"No. Not a word."

"Nor the tongue of the Mexican pony men?"

"No. All it says is in the tongue of the blue-coated white men of the
North."

"Ugh!"

Even Ni-ha-be's pretty face could express the hatred felt by her people
for the only race of men they were at all afraid of.

There were many braves in her father's band who had learned to talk
Mexican-Spanish. She herself could do so very well, but neither she
nor any of her friends or relatives could speak more than a few words
of broken English, and she had never heard Rita use one.

"There are many pictures."

"Ugh! yes. That's a mountain, like those up yonder. There are lodges,
too, in the valley. But nobody ever made lodges in such a shape as
that."

"Yes, or nobody could have painted a talking picture of them."

"It tells a lie, Rita! And nobody ever saw a bear like that."

"It isn't a bear, Ni-ha-be. The talking leaf says it's a lion."

"What's that? A white man's bear?"

Rita knew no more about lions than did her adopted sister, but by the
time they had turned over a few more pages their curiosity was aroused
to a high degree. Even Ni-ha-be wanted to hear all that the "talking
leaves" might have to say in explanation of those wonderful pictures.

It was too bad of Rita to have been "born white" and not to be able to
explain the work of her own people at sight.

"What shall we do with them, Ni-ha-be?"

"Show them to father."

"Why not ask Red Wolf?"

"He would take them away and burn them. He hates the pale-faces more
and more every day."

"I don't believe he hates me."

"Of course not. You're an Apache now. Just as much as Mother Dolores,
and she's forgotten that she was ever white."

"She isn't very white, Ni-ha-be. She's darker than almost any other
woman in the tribe."

"We won't show her the talking leaves till father says we may keep
them. Then she'll be afraid to touch them. She hates me."

"No, she doesn't. She likes me best, that's all."

"She'd better not hate me, Rita. I'll have her beaten if she isn't
good to me. I'm an Apache!"

The black-eyed daughter of the great chief had plenty of self-will and
temper. There could be no doubt of that. She sprang upon her mustang
with a quick, impatient bound, and Rita followed, clinging to her
prizes, wondering what would be the decision of Many Bears and his
councillors as to the ownership of them.

A few minutes of swift riding brought the two girls to the bord