Just as our rear was passing them we noticed a solitary warrior advance and show a white cloth.

“That is Elarnagan,” said Manuel.  “He wants to speak with you.”

Accompanied by the Mexican boy to act as interpreter, I advanced to the chief.  He took my hand with dignity, and said he accepted the loss of his pale-faced captives as the fortune of war, but he demanded the return of Sapoya.  He said that in a fight with the Utes, ten years before, his people had captured a Cherokee chief, who was visiting that tribe with his wife and child.  The chief and his wife had died, and he, Elarnagan, had brought up the child as his own.  He asked that Sapoya be restored to him.

I called the Indian lad to me and, repeating the words of the chief, said, “You may answer for yourself.”

“Sapoya says to the bravest warrior of the Navajos, that he is grateful for all the favors that he has received, and that he thinks he has returned by hard service ample payment for all.  He brought parents, three horses, and ample clothing to the Navajos; he takes nothing away but the pony he rode.  He has shared his blanket and food with his brother, Manuel, for these many moons, undergoing fatigue and exposure with him, until his heart beats as one with his comrade’s, and he desires to go with him to his home and become one of his people.”

The chief said nothing in reply, but advancing gave his hand in amity to both boys, and rode back to his people.

“He is a good chief and a brave one,” said Manuel, as we rejoined the command, “but I should cherish kindlier memories of him if he had given us some clothing and an extra blanket.”

Later, as we were riding slowly out of the bed of Lithodendron, Frank said, “I do not see how the Indians came to spare Vic.”

“One of them did attempt to kill her, but I threw my arms about her and the chief patted her head and gave orders that she should not be hurt.  I think if her collar had not been taken off at Laguna she would have been killed in a scramble to possess it.  Even Elarnagan would have considered her life worthless compared with the possession of such a beautiful trinket.”

“The chief seems to have taken quite a liking to Corporal Henry,” I remarked.

“Not enough to allow him to retain his clothing,” said Manuel; “but he would not permit him to be deprived of his pony.  Perhaps you saw him, when you were on the butte, dash round the herd with Henry on his shoulder?”

“Frank and I saw it,” I answered.

“He said, when he placed Henry back upon Chiquita, ’He will make a brave chief.’”

Camp was reached a little after dark, and the boys plunged into the river to remove the yeso, and then dressed themselves in civilized garments, Henry drawing on his reserve, and the others from the quartermaster’s stores.

Had not Victoriana been a modest doggie, the amount of praise and attention she received from the four boys would have turned her head; and the boys themselves had no reason to complain of the kindly congratulations they received from the infantry company.