After you bin to the Ranch a spell you won't be advertising to your old man, nor nobody else, where you be. They's other girls there as good as you be, an' they ain't none of 'em sendin' out invites to their folks to come an' see 'em. You- Hell ! Look! Injuns!"

Over the western rim ,of Pimos Canyon a dozen yelling Apaches were charging down the steep hillside.

"Geronimo!" screamed Cheetim and, dropping the lead rope, wheeled about and bolted down the canyon as fast as spur and quirt and horse flesh could carry him.

The four remaining men opened fire on the Apaches, and in the first exchange of shots two had their horses shot from under them. Hicks' horse, grazed by a bullet, became unmanageable and started off down the canyon after Cheetim's animal, pitching and squealing, while a third man, realizing the futility of resistance and unhampered by sentiments of chivalry, put spur and followed.

One of the dismounted men ran to the side of Wichita's horse, seized her arm and dragged her from the saddle before she realized the thing that was in his mind; then, vaulting to the horse's back, he started after his fellows while the girl ran to the shelter of a bowlder behind which the sole remaining white man had taken up a position from which he might momentarily, at least, wage a hopeless defense against the enemy.

Shoz-Dijiji and Gian-nah-tah, racing toward the girl, saw her dragged from her horse, saw her take refuge behind the bowlder, and the latter, knowing that the girl was safe, raced after the white man who had stolen her horse and left her, as he thought, to the merciless attentions of a savage enemy.

Shoz-Dijiji, calling his warriors together, circled away from the bowlder behind which the two were crouching. The white man looked from behind the bowlder. Slowly he raised his rifle to take aim. The girl raised her eyes above the level of the bowlder's top. She saw the Apache warriors gathered a hundred yards away, she saw the rifle of the white man leveled upon them, and then she recognized Shoz- Dijiji.

"Don't shoot!" she cried to her companion. "Wait!"

"Wait, hell!" scoffed the man. "We ain't got no more chanct than a snowball in Hell. Why should I wait?"

"One of those Indians is friendly," replied the girl. "I don't think he'll hurt us or let the others hurt us when he knows I'm here."

Gian-nah-tah, riding fast, had pulled alongside his quarry. With clubbed rifle he knocked the white man from the saddle and in a dozen more strides had seized the bridle rein of the riderless horse.

The man behind the bowlder drew a fine sight on the buck who appeared to be the leader of the renegades. It was Shoz-Dijiji. Wichita Billings snatched the white man's six- shooter from its holster and shoved the muzzle against his side.

"Drop that gun!" she cautioned; "or I'll bore you."

The man lowered his rifle to the accompaniment of lurid profanity.

"Shut up," admonished Wichita, "and look there!"

Shoz-Dijiji had tied a white rag to the muzzle of his rifle and was waving it to and fro above his head. Wichita stood up and waved a hand above her head. "Stand up!" she commanded, addressing the white man behind the bowlder. The fel- low did as he was bid and, again at her command, , accompanied her as she advanced to meet Shoz-Dijiji, who was walking toward them alone. As they met, the Black Bear seized the white man's rifle and wrenched it from his grasp. "Now I kill him," he announced.

"No! Oh, no!" cried Wichita, stepping between them.

Why not?" demanded Shoz-Dijiji. "He steal you, eh?"

"Yes, but you mustn't kill him," replied the girl. "He came forward under the protection of your white flag."

"White flag for you--not for dirty coyote," the Black Bear assured her. "I give him his rifle, then. Him go back. Then I get him."

"No, Shoz-Dijiji, you must let him go: He doesn't deserve it, I'll admit; but it would only bring trouble to you and your people. The troops are already out after Geronimo. If there is a killing here there is no telling what it will lead to."

"No sabe white-eyed men," said Shoz-Dijiji disgustedly. "Kill good Indian, yes; kill bad white-eye, no." He shrugged. "Well, you say no kill, no kill." He turned to the white man. "Get out, pronto! You sabe?Get out San Carlos.