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THE DOCTOR AND CECILIE COME TO THE AID OF SHOOTING STAR
Shooting Star, in a very terrible voice, "never shall an Apache mate with a Pueblo till the eagle and snake shall wed!"
One wild cry from the desolate lovers, and the girl, weeping, was led away to sob her wild grief dumb upon the gay, mockingly gay blanket in her teepee. And for many a day the crumbling streets of the town knew no Apache, and Mon-a-tu strode like a restless spirit homesick beneath the sun of mortals.
And then, laden with pelts and spoils of his arrows, Shooting Star strode, scornful of the walls and shutin air, to the trading station to exchange his wealth for the wealth of the white man. The Pueblo braves, watching him afar, noted how dusky was his face, how strangely hazed his eye. Suddenly he swayed, and his hand, so fierce to slay, so strong to strike, so cruel on the bow-string, went to his forehead like a wounded thing. And, creeping, shod with curiosity, closer, they saw dread red welts along his cheeks, like angry wounds. Then, with fierce cries, thev
bent to the stones of the street and began to fling them upon the stricken man. For, my brothers, the coward carrion crows are. braggarts upon a corpse. As Shooting Star, muttering and swaying, flew from the hail of missiles down the ragged streets, the doctor and his wife came upon him and noted his sore need. And even as his daughter had come back from the barren places of death to see her loved face above her, so the warrior, hardened by hail and storm, by sun and wind, by danger and daring, awoke from his deep swoon to see Cecilie stooping graciously over him. The weeks of his sickness were many, yet the patience of the white woman was as boundless as the mercy of the Great Spirit. Shooting Star looked upon her, at first worshiping; then, as strength crept to his sinews, with desire. At length, healed and departing, he turned to the doctor and spoke his simple plan.
"How much for your squaw?" "How much?" the doctor roared with laughter — "why, fifty ponies, man!"
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