In the other room Wichita Billings, listening, heard every word that Cheetim spoke, and her soul was seared by shame and vain regret for the wrong she had done the friendless red man. She reproached herself for not listening to the counsel and the urging of her heart, for she knew—she had always known—that she had battled against her love for Shoz-Dijiji, had trampled it beneath her feet, that she might encourage her belief in his perfidy. If she could only see him once more, if she could only tell him that she knew and ask his forgiveness; but now it was too late. She heard Cheetim speaking again. “You fellers finish rustlin’ the grub,” he said. “I’m goin’ in an’ visit my wife.” This sally was applauded with much laughter. “An’ I don’t want to be disturbed,” he concluded. “Savvy?” * * * * * A pinto stallion, racing like the wind, bore its rider toward the Crazy B ranch house following the shots that had attracted the attention of the Apache. Fences intervened, but though there were gates in them Shoz-Dijiji had no time to waste on gates. Straight for them he rode Nejeunee; and the pinto took them in his stride, soaring over them like a bird on the wing. Chung, kneeling beside Luke in the ranch yard, voiced a startled cry as he saw a pinto stallion, bearing a feared Apache warrior, rise over the bars of the corral; but Chung did not flee. He stood his post, though scarce knowing what to do. Luke’s six-shooter was close beside his hand; but Chung was too surprised to think of it, and a second later the warrior had reined in beside them, his pony sliding upon its haunches for a dozen feet. Throwing himself to the ground Shoz-Dijiji knelt beside Luke. “What has happened?” he demanded. “Where is Chita?” Luke looked up. “Oh, it’s you, Shoz-Dijiji? Thank God for that. A bunch of skunks jest rid off into the south hills with her. I ain’t hurted bad, but I caint ride. You go!” “Sure I go!” As he arose Shoz-Dijiji stripped his clothing from him in an instant, and when he leaped to Nejeunee’s back again he wore only moccasins, his G-string, and a head band. “I get her!” he cried, reassuringly, waving his rifle above his head, and an instant later he was racing for the gate. Down the road from the west thundered Kreff and Jake and Sam just as Shoz-Dijiji swept through the gate. “There’s the Siwash killed the Boss!” shouted Sam, who was in the lead, and the words were scarce out of his mouth before he had drawn his gun and opened fire on the Indian. Jake joined in the fusillade of shots; and Shoz-Dijiji, turning upon the back of his war pony, sent a half dozen bullets among them before he vanished into the hills. It was only the rapidity with which their mounts had been moving that prevented any casualties.