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hands before her face. “Nhikas,” he said quietly. The language lesson! Nhikas, the word for fingernails. Maria swallowed hard, and after studying the food carefully couldn’t fight any more.
    “Nhikas,” she said sullenly.
    “Kewaapami,” he said clearly, again showing her that the word meant hands.
    “Kewaapami” Maria repeated.
    “Nkitenenc,” he said for fingers.
    She repeated the word and learned the rest of the words he wanted her to. The lesson went on and on, and for the words she learned, she was tested and retested. Satisfied with her progress, he at last indicated that she could eat, and while she did so, he never took his eyes from her face.
    She ate everything that he had given her. When she finished, he signaled that water was nearby by cupping his hand, putting it to his mouth, and pointing to a meadow a short distance from them.
    She got up and left him, and he made no move to follow her. At the spring she drank thirstily. All of the Indians remained at their camp, giving her privacy, and in spite of the miserable morning, she bathed herself. When she returned to the Indians, her captor was riding away with two of them. Two were left to guard her and one of them indicated a crude bed that had been made for her. She lay upon it, falling to sleep almost immediately. When she awakened finally, it was later, much later. It was now raining hard and water was dripping down upon her face from the thick branches overhead. But it was not the rain that had awakened her, and remembering what it was, she gathered the robe around her, and got up with wild hope racing in her heart. She had heard the firing of a rifle.

Chapter Four
     
    These Indians didn’t have guns; even the Snakes hadn’t had guns. The firing of a rifle could only mean that a white man, or several white men were near! “Dear God, let it be! Let it be!” Maria prayed wildly. White men were close enough for her to hear the firing of their rifles! Clutching the robe to her, she raced to the bay.
    “Hai-yah!” one of the Indians shouted, but she ran on anyway. He came after her, caught her, and when she screamed he gagged her with his palm. She struggled against him desperately, hampered by the clumsiness of her robe, as it slipped away from her shoulders.
    “Ah-meeteh!” a voice said low and savagely. Maria looked up into the enraged eyes of her captor who still sat upon his horse. His knife was drawn and upon it beads of water collected and fell off like colorless drops of blood. Rain was streaming upon Maria’s hair and naked breasts, and she drew the robe hastily around her. His face was wild. She looked up at him, dumb with fear and blinking through the driving rain.
    Her assailant started to speak, but his leader leaped upon him, driving him helplessly down upon his back. Immediately, the other Indian who had stayed with Maria intervened, talking rapidly to Maria’s captor and holding back his knife hand. In time, that awful hand stilled its struggle, the rage and savagery left the awful face, and Maria’s captor released the Indian he had held helpless beneath him. Not one word did he say. Instead, his black eyes swung to Maria and she was overwhelmed with fresh terror of him. How could she have fought him in anything? How had she defied a beast so hungry for the letting of blood, so quick with a knife, so eager to kill even one of his own kind?
    Fearfully, she went to her bed, and hid her head under her robe, listening to the rain beating against the skins and her own heart beating in terror. She felt his presence, felt him lie beside her in their bed and take a part of the robe that covered her nakedness to cover himself. She was facing away from him, cringing and desperately trying to keep from shaking. He did not touch her. He was quiet and seemed to sleep, and at last she relaxed, and stretched out her cramped legs. He suddenly turned her upon her back, and taking the robe from both of their heads, studied her face. She