CHAPTER XVIII

AN INDIAN’S ADVICE

He felt that the Indian was playing some kind of a game--a game which the red man seemed rather to enjoy but which left the white man very much in the dark.

Less than a mile up the cañon creek Hugh Edwards stopped. It was useless, he told himself, to go farther. He would wait there until night, when, under cover of the darkness, he could return to his cabin and secure food and the small store of gold he had accumulated. Seating himself on a rock in the shade of a sycamore, where he could watch and listen for any one attempting to follow his tracks, he gave himself up to troubled thoughts.

True, the sheriff had not come for him this time, but the officers might, while in the neighborhood, learn of his presence in the Cañon of Gold and return to investigate. Suppose, for instance, they should meet and talk with the Lizard. His supply of gold would not take him far, but he must go as far as he could; as for his dream and Marta--what a fool he had been to think that he could ever find gold enough to----

A hand touched his shoulder. With a cry he leaped to his feet, and like a wild animal caught in a trap whirled to fight.

Natachee made the peace sign. The Indian was smiling as he had smiled that night when Marta was in his cabin.

The white man’s nerves were on edge. He glared at the Indian angrily.

“What do you mean sneaking up on a man like that?” he demanded. “You’ll get yourself killed for that trick some day.”

Natachee laughed, and there was a touch of scorn in his voice as he returned:

“Not by you, Hugh Edwards.”

“And why not by me?” demanded the other, goaded by the Indian’s tone and by the slight emphasis which the red man placed on his name.

“Because,” said Natachee coolly, “you are not the killing kind, and because if you should, in a moment of wild madness, attempt such a thing, I--“ he paused, then with an abrupt change in his tone and manner said: “I am sorry that I startled you. It was unpardonably rude, I’ll admit, and you have every reason for being angry. I did not stop to think.”

“It is nothing,” returned Edwards. “I was a fool to fly up over such a thing. I--I’m a bit upset just now, that’s all. Forget it.”

He resumed his seat on the rock. The Indian seated himself on the ground near-by.

Edwards was thinking: Marta had said that Natachee had come to the house while the officers were there. How much of the sheriff’s talk had the Indian heard? How much had he guessed? What was he doing here?

Almost as if to answer the white man’s thoughts the Indian said casually:

“I happened in at the Pardners’ place a while ago and found Sheriff Burks and two deputies there. I am going to Tucson to-morrow and dropped in to see if I could do any errand for them or for Miss Hillgrove. Then I called at your place to offer a like service but you were not at home. I happened to see you sitting on the rock here as I came up the cañon.”

The Indian did not explain how, before the officers were out of sight, he had made his way with the noiseless speed of a fox to a point where from behind rocks and bushes he had witnessed the close of the interview between Marta and Edwards; and how, after the girl had returned to her home, he had trailed the white man. Neither did he explain that he had had no thought of going to Tucson when, from the mountain side, he saw Sheriff Burks and his men ride up to the Pardners’ place.

“Thank you,” said Edwards, “there is nothing you can do for me in Tucson.”

Natachee waited several moments before he spoke again, and the uncomfortable thought flashed into Edwards’ mind that the Indian seemed particularly pleased that he, the white man, had nothing to say. Edwards, in an agony of suspense, wondering, fearing, perplexed, baffled, dared not speak.

At last the Indian said softly:

“The sheriff and his men have gone away. They are satisfied that the man they are looking for is not here. I assured them that there was no stranger in the Cañada del Oro.”

“They are gone?” said Edwards doubtfully, as if he feared the Indian were playing him some cruel trick.

“For this time,” Natachee said gravely.

“You--you--think they will come again?”

The Indian looked away and answered with odd deliberation:

“Who can say? There is always that possibility. Any day--any hour they may come. But if, in spite of what I told Sheriff Burks, the man wanted by him is in the Cañada del Oro, my advice to that man would be that he stay right where he is.”

Hugh Edwards hesitated. He felt that the Indian was playing some kind of a game--a game which the red man seemed rather to enjoy but which left the white man very much in the dark.

“You don’t think then that he--that the man could get away, out of this part of the country, I mean?” he said at last.

“The sheriff and his deputies will be watching every place but the Cañada del Oro,” returned the Indian. “Because they are just now satisfied that their man is not here, this is the one safe place for him. And if they should by any chance return----“

“What,” cried Edwards eagerly, “what if the officers _should_ return?”

Still without looking at his companion Natachee answered:

“There are places in the Cañada del Oro where a man, if he knew these mountains as I know them, could hide from all the sheriffs in Arizona.”

Haltingly, but with trembling eagerness, Hugh Edwards asked the inevitable question.

“And would you, Natachee, help such a man under such circumstances?”

“I might.”

At this noncommittal answer Hugh Edwards moved uneasily.

“Do you know,” he said at last, “I have fancied sometimes that you, being an Indian, hated all white people bitterly.”

Natachee made no reply.

Edwards continued, as one feeling his way over dangerous ground:

“And yet you seem to enjoy the company of Saint Jimmy.”

The Indian rose to his feet and stood looking down upon the white man and something in his face--a shadow of a cruel smile, a gleam of savage light in his dark eyes--something--made Edwards rise and draw back a step.

“I do enjoy the company of Doctor Burton,” said the red man. “He is suffering. He is dying slowly. He is in torment. I am Natachee the Indian, why should I not enjoy the company of any white man who is like your Saint Jimmy or who can be made to suffer in any way?” For a moment he paused, then in a voice that made his words almost a command, he added: “I will return from Tucson in three days. In the meantime if it should be necessary for you to go into the upper part of this cañon, find my hut if you can and make yourself at home. You will be very welcome. If you should not find my place--if you should get yourself lost, for instance, have no fear, I will find you. But if I were you I would not leave my cabin and my friends down yonder unless it were absolutely necessary.”

Without waiting for a reply the Indian turned, and climbing the steep bank of the creek with amazing ease and quickness, disappeared.

Hugh Edwards went slowly back to his cabin.

Marta, who was watching, saw him coming and ran joyously to meet him.