as a fair specimen of Apache household government.

If the poor, tired-out little mule who had served as an "omnibus" for
Too Many Toes and her family happened to see the use made of that
lariat, perhaps it comforted him too, for she had beaten him
unmercifully all the way, and he was not her mule.

At all events, the discovery of the ford made that a safer place for a
camp. Orders were given not to put up any lodges or unpack any baggage
until morning, and the whole band prepared for a night in the open air.

It was a complete "bivouac" but there was no hardship in it. The air
was dry and warm. There was very little wind. The grass on which they
could spread their blankets and buffalo-skins was deep and soft.
Besides all that, and more important than anything else, they were all
used to it, and would have laughed at anybody who imagined it a
hardship.

Even Rita and Ni-ha-be never thought of such a thing, but after they
lay down together it seemed more than usually difficult to get to sleep.

Nowhere in the world is the air more pure, and there were no clouds,
nor was there yet any moon. The sky was all one blaze of stars, and
the two girls could hardly help gazing at them.

"They're so bright," said Rita.

"I've seen them all before. Just as bright as they are now.

"So many of them, too."

"No more than there always is in good weather. When it rains hard it
puts them out and they have to be lighted again."

"There is something about them in the talking leaves."

"What do they say?"

"I could not hear it all, but I understood some of it. The wise
pale-faces look at the stars and know all their names. All the tribes
of them and families."

"Tribes and families! I don't believe it. They're all one tribe, and
they all shine for the Apaches." There was no denying that, and Rita
had not read or understood enough to say much more.

Long after Ni-ha-be was sound asleep, however, her adopted sister was
lying wide-awake, and staring at all that glory overhead.

"I remember now. It was my father told me about the stars. That's why
I knew what the talking leaves meant. He was very good to me. I can
see him plainer and plainer all the while."

It was a matter of course that one memory should bring back another,
but they were all pretty cloudy as yet. Not bright and clear like the
great stars, but misty and dim like those white streaks in the sky.

Rita gazed and gazed and thought and thought,