Perhaps the sickness helped to make Shoz-Dijiji unhappy, but there were other causes, too. One of them was the attitude of the young warriors toward Ish-kay-nay, and that of some of the old warriors, as well. Never before had Shoz-Dijiji realized how wonderful and how desirable was Ish-kay-nay, and he saw that other youths and men thought that she was desirable. Once, shortly after the great feast, he saw ten ponies tied before her tepee, and among them was the war pony of Juh, the chief of the Ned-ni. For four days he watched them standing there, as their owners watched them; but Ish-kay-nay did not come forth and feed any one of them or lead one to water, and at the end of the fourth day, disgruntled, the disappointed swains came and took away their ponies. After that Shoz-Dijiji was happier and when it was dark, that very night, he found Ish-kay-nay and sat down beside her and held her hand and heard her say over again that she would wait for him—forever. CHAPTER VII RAIDED ONE day as Shoz-Dijiji squatted beside Geronimo listening to the great chief’s tales of the war trail a runner came and stopped before them. “Geronimo,” he said, “I am sent by the officers of the white soldiers. They want you to come to their camp. They have sent a runner to Victorio also, and he is coming.” “What do the chiefs of the white soldiers want of Geronimo and Victorio?” demanded the chief. “I do not know,” replied the runner. “Perhaps they are calling a council,” suggested Geronimo. “Perhaps,” replied the runner, an Apache scout in the service of the government. “Tell them Geronimo will come,” said the chief, and the scout turned and trotted away, disappearing among the trees below the camp. “Fetch my pony, Shoz-Dijiji,” said Geronimo. “And mine?” asked the youth. Geronimo smiled and grunted an affirmative and the lad was gone after the two ponies. When he returned Geronimo was ready and together they rode down the mountainside in the direction of the little town near which the soldiers were camped. Early the following morning they saw a small band of Indians moving in the same direction as were they, and evidently toward the camp of the white soldiers which lay beside the village of Hot Springs which they could already see in the distance. “Victorio,” grunted Geronimo, nodding his head. Shoz-Dijiji nodded. However the two approached the other party, as their trails converged, with careful wariness, and it was not until they had actually recognized individual members of the band and been recognized in turn that they finally joined them.