" So
take him they did, and at sight of his swarthy face the girl had given
a low cry of sudden, eager joy; then, as though reading warning in his
glance, turned her face away and would not talk. It was the play of
almost every Apache to understand no English whatever, yet Truman
could have sworn she understood when he asked her if she could guess
where Angela was in hiding. The Indian lad had shaken his head and
declared he knew nothing. The girl was dumb. Mrs. Bridger happened in
a moment later, coming down with Mrs. Sanders to see how the strange
patient was progressing. They stood in silence a moment, listening to
Truman's murmured words. Then Mrs. Bridger suddenly spoke. "Ask her if
she knows Natzie's cave," said she. "Natzie's cave," she repeated,
with emphasis, and the Indian girl guilelessly shook her head, and
then turned and covered her face with her hands.
CHAPTER XXIII
AN APACHE QUEEN
In the slant of the evening sunshine a young girl, an Indian, was
crouching among the bare rocks at the edge of a steep and rugged
descent. One tawny little hand, shapely in spite of scratches, was
uplifted to her brows, shading her keen and restless eyes against the
glare. In the other hand, the right, she held a little, circular
pocket-mirror, cased in brass, and held it well down in the shade.
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