Before he had gone far he heard voices, one voice Bernritter’s, and the other unmistakably that of an Indian.
The Piute had no love for the Apaches, and a thrill shot through him as he realized that this redskin with whom the superintendent was talking must be one of the hated people.
Then Cayuse had another thought: Why was Bernritter talking with an Apache--holding with him a pow-wow that had already lasted several minutes?
Little Cayuse crawled closer, slipping through the loose stones like a snake.
When he paused again, he was as near the two men as he dared to go. One was an Apache, and the boy was not slow to realize that his danger was greater than if he had been lying in the vicinity of two white men.
From his last position Cayuse was able to see the dark form of the horse, and the upright figures of the men. While he watched, Bernritter turned to his horse and thrust his foot into the stirrup.
“You _sabe_, eh?” Cayuse heard Bernritter ask the Apache. “Round up the warriors and wait for word from Bascomb. You’ll hear from him in two, three hour, mebbyso.”
Bernritter, without speaking further, rode on up the gully. The Apache, whisking up the gully-bank like an antelope, vanished over the rim.
Little Cayuse returned to his waiting pinto, kicked the pony with his heels, and rode on after Bernritter.
When he caught the tinkling sound of the hoofs ahead, he slowed his pace with a grunt of satisfaction.
Then, from the beaded medicine-pouch that swung from his belt, he took some yellow pigment, dabbed one of his fingers into it, and ran a wavering line up and down either side of his face.
This was Cayuse’s war-paint. He put it on, now that he knew he was to take the war-path against foes of his own color.
White men like Bernritter and Jacobs were not worth the trouble of dipping into his medicine-bag. Besides, Cayuse’s grievance against them was not yet well defined.
Pa-e-has-ka had set him on Bernritter’s trail, but that was all. Recent developments had given a fresh twist to the course of events. Who was Bascomb? And why was the Apache to round up more warriors?
As he followed along after Bernritter, he became suddenly aware that the hoofs in the lead were being drowned out by a steadily increasing roar.