“Shoz-Dijiji and Geronimo are not like the God of the white-eyed men—they cannot be here, there, and everywhere at the same time.” Wichita Billings smiled. “But perhaps He guides them to the right place at the right time,” she suggested. “Are you not here now, Shoz-Dijiji, instead of a Cho-kon-en or a Ned-ni?” “You have strong medicine, white girl; but so did the great izze-nantan, Nakay-do-klunni. He made strong medicine that turned away the bullets of the white-eyed soldiers, but at Cibicu Creek they killed him. The best medicine is to stay out of danger.” “Well, to tell you the truth, Shoz-Dijiji,” admitted the girl, “I did not dream that there was a renegade within a hundred miles of here.” “When the Shis-Inday are on the war-trail they are like your God—they are here, there, and everywhere.” “Are there others with you, Shoz-Dijiji?” “No, I am alone.” “What are you doing here? Were you—were you coming to the ranch, Shoz-Dijiji?” she asked, hesitatingly. “Were you coming to see me?” There was potential gladness in her voice. “Shoz-Dijiji has been scouting,” replied the Apache. “He is returning to the camp of Geronimo.” “But you were going to stop and see me, Shoz-Dijiji,” she insisted. “No. It would have made trouble. Your father does not like Shoz-Dijiji, and he would like to kill a renegade. Shoz-Dijiji does not wish to be killed. Therefore there would be trouble.” “My father is sorry for the things he said to you, Shoz-Dijiji. Come to the ranch, and he will tell you so. He was angry because he was very fond of Mason; and you know that they had just found Mason murdered—and scalped.” “Shoz-Dijiji knows. He knows more about that than your father. Shoz-Dijiji knows that it was not an Apache that killed Mason.” “How do you know? Do you know who did kill him? He was scalped.” “Are the white-eyed men such fools that they think that only an Apache can scalp? If they were not such fools they would know that it is only occasionally that Apaches do take the scalps of their enemies. They do know this, but they do not want to admit it. They know that whenever a white-eyed man wishes to kill an enemy he need only scalp him to convince everyone that Apaches did it, because everyone wishes to believe that every murder is done by Apaches. “Yes, I know who killed Mason and why. He was robbed in Cheetim’s Hog Ranch, and he had sworn to get Cheetim. He was looking for him with a gun. Cheetim hired a man to ride out with Mason and shoot him in the back. That is all. “Now come. Shoz-Dijiji ride back with you until you are near the ranch. You must not ride alone again even if you are not afraid of the Apaches, for there are bad men among the white-eyes—men who would harm you even more surely than an Apache.” He motioned her to precede him up the steep canyon side; and when the two ponies had scrambled to the summit he rode at her side, where the ground permitted, as they walked their ponies in the direction of the Billings ranch.