"I ain't got no time now!" he said. "You come round tomorrow--maybe so I fix you up then, eh?"

The Apache nodded. "Mebbe so, mebbe not," he replied, enigmatically; but Cheetim, who had already started for the corral, failed to note any hidden meaning in the words of the Indian. Perhaps none had been intended. One seldom knows what may be in the mind of an Apache.

As the five men saddled and prepared to ride after Wichita Billings the Indian started back toward the reservation. He had not understood every word that the white men had spoken; but he had understood enough, coupled with his knowledge of the sort of men they were, to fully realize their purpose and the grave danger that threatened the white girl.

In the heart of Gian-nah-tah was no love for her. In the breast of Gian-nah-tah burned sullen resentment and anger against Shoz-Dijiji. When Cheetim's purpose with the girl had first dawned upon him it had not occurred to him that he might interfere. The girl had spurned Shoz-Dijiji. Perhaps it would be better if she were out of the way. But he knew that Shoz-Dijiji loved her and that even though she did not love the war chief of the Be-don-ko-he he would protect her from injury if he could.

He recalled how Shoz-Dijiji had struck the whiskey from his hand the previous day; he felt the blows upon his face as Shoz-Dijiji slapped him; he burned at recollection of the indignities that had been: put upon him before the eyes of the white-eyed man; but he kept on in the direction of the Be-don-ko-he camp.

They say that an Apache is never moved by chivalry or loyalty- only by self-interest; but this day Gian-nah-tah gave the lie to the author of this calumny.

As Wichita Billings was about to pass the mouth of Pimos Canyon she heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind her. In effete society it is not considered proper for a young lady to turn and scrutinize chance wayfarers upon the same road; but the society of Arizona in the '80's was young and virile- so young and so virile that it behooved one to investigate it before it arrived within shooting distance.

Impelled, therefore, by a deep regard for Nature's first law Wichita turned in her saddle and examined the approaching horsemen. Instantly she saw that they were five and white. It occurred to her that perhaps they had seen her pass and were coming to warn her that Geronimo was out, for she knew that word of it would have passed quickly throughout the country.

As the riders neared she thought that she recognized something vaguely familiar in the figure and carriage of one of them, for in a country where people go much upon horseback individual idiosyncrasies of seat and form are quickly and easily observable and often serve to identify a rider at considerable distances.

Cheetim rode with an awkward forward hunch and his right elbow higher than his left. It was by these that Wichita recognized him even before she saw his face; though she was naturally inclined to doubt her own judgment, since she had believed "Dirty" Cheetim dead for several years.

An instant later she discerned his whiskered face. While she did not know that these men were pursuing her, she was quite confident that there would be trouble the instant that Cheetim recognized her; and so she spurred on at a faster gait, intending to keep ahead of the five without actually seeming to be fleeing them.

But that was to be more easily planned than executed, for the instant that she increased her speed they spurred after her at a run, shouting to her to stop. She heard them call that Geronimo was out, but she was more afraid of Cheetim than she was of Geronimo.

So insistent were they upon overtaking her that presently her horse was extended at full speed, but as it is seldom that a horse that excels in one gait is proportionally swift at others it was soon apparent that she would be .overhauled.

Leaning forward along her horse's neck, she touched him again with her spurs and spoke encouraging words in his back-laid ears. The incentiveof spur and spoken word, the lesser wind resistance of her new position, had their effects with the result that for a short time she drew away from her pursuers; but presently the young cow-puncher, plying long rowels, wielding pliant, rawhide quirt that fell with stinging blows alternately upon either flank of his wiry mount, edged closer.

"Hold on, Miss!" he called to her. "You gotta come back -- Geronimo's out!"

"You go back and tell 'Dirty' Cheetim to lay off," she shouted back over her shoulder. "If I've g.ot to choose between him and Geronimo, I'll take the Apache."

"You better stop and talk to him," he urged. "He ain't goin' to hurt you none."

"You're damn tootin' cow-boy," she yelled at him; "he sure ain't if I know it."

The young puncher urged his horse to greater speed. Wichita's mount was weakening. The man drew closer. In a moment he would be able to reach out and seize her bridle rein. The two had far outdistanced the others trailing in the dust behind.

Wichita drew her six-shooter. "Be careful, cow-boy!" she warned. "I aint got nothin' agin you, but I'll shore bore you if you lay ary hand on this bridle."

Easily Wichita lapsed into th~ vernacular she had spent three years trying to forget, as she always and unconsciously did under stress of excitement.

"Then I'll run that cayuse o' yourn ragged," threatened the man. "He's just about all in how."

"Yours is!" snapped Wichita, levelling her six-shooter at the horse of her pursuer and pulling the trigger.

The man uttered an oath and tried to rein in to avoid the shot. Wichita's hammer fell with a futile click. She pulled the trigger again and again with the same result.