“Hands off!” cried Colina in a voice so sudden and peremptory that the old women, though the words meant nothing to them, obeyed.

Nesis, lithe and swift as a lynx, wriggled out of their grasp, sprang to her feet, and darted outside, all in a single movement, it seemed.

The two girls faced each other, Nesis panting and trembling.  The same look of bitter curiosity was in each pair of eyes.  Each acknowledged the other’s beauty with a jealous twinge.  But in the red girl’s sad eyes there was no hope of rivalry.  She soon cast down her lids.

Colina thought her eyes the saddest she had ever seen in a human face.  She saw that there was little resemblance between her and her Kakisa sisters.

Nesis was as slender as a young aspen and her cheeks showed a clear olive pallor.  Her lips were like the petals of a Jacqueminot rose.  Colina, remembering that Ambrose had kissed them, turned a little hard.

“You are Nesis?” she asked, though she knew it well.

The girl nodded without looking up.

“You know Ambrose Doane?”

Again the mute nod.

“Will you come with me to testify for him?”

Nesis looked up blankly.

“I mean,” explained Colina, “will you come and tell his judges that he did not lead the Kakisas into trouble?”

Nesis, by vivid signs, informed Colina that Ambrose had been a prisoner among the Indians.

It occurred to Colina as strange, since she could understand English, that she should use signs.  “I know he was a prisoner,” she said.  “Will you come with me and tell the police that?”

Nesis turned and with a despairing gesture called Colina’s attention to the gathering Indians who would prevent her.  Not a sound issued from her lips.

“Never mind them,” said Colina scornfully.  “Are you willing to come?”

Nesis lifted her eyes to Colina’s—­eyes luminous with eagerness and emotion—­and quickly nodded again.

“Why doesn’t she speak!” thought Colina.  Aloud she said:  “All right.  Tell them I am going to take you.  Tell them anybody that interferes does so at his peril.”  She pointed to her rifle.

To Colina’s astonishment, the girl lowered her head and flung an arm up over her face.

“What’s the matter?” she cried.  “I’ll take care of you.”  She drew the arm down.  “Speak to them!” she said again.

Nesis slowly raised her head.  Her eyes crept to Colina’s, humble and unspeakably mournful.  She opened her mouth and pointed within.

Colina looked—­and sickened.  A little cry of utter horror was forced from her, and she fell back a step, She saw why Nesis did not speak.  The disclosure was too sudden and dreadful.

For the first and last time during that hazardous enterprise her strong spirit failed.  She became as pale as snow and her hands flew to her breast.  Cora, watching her, slipped out of the saddle and glided to her aid.