Dawn came while they were still following the little, brush-choked ravine with
its faint pathway up the middle of it, made by cattle or sheep or goats,
perhaps all three. Luis hurried along, stopping now and then and holding up a
hand for silence so that he might listen. Fast as he went, Annie-Many-Ponies
kept within two long steps of his heels, her plaid shawl drawn smoothly over
her black head and folded together under her chin. Her mouth was set in a
straight line, and her chin had the square firmness of the Indian. Luis,
looking back at her curiously, could not even guess at her thoughts, but he
thought her too calm and cold for his effervescent nature--though he would
have liked to tell her that she was beautiful. He did not, because he was
afraid of Ramon.
"Poco tiempo, come to his camp, Ramon," he said when the sun was peering over
the high shoulder of a ridge; and he spoke in a hushed tone, as if he feared
that someone might overhear him.
"You 'fraid Wagalexa Conka, he come?" Annie-Many-Ponies asked abruptly,
looking at him full.
Luis did not understand her, so he lifted his shoulders in the Mexican gesture
which may mean much or nothing.
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