I stayed at the village that night, and the next morning the three of us started out to gather huckleberries.
After we were on the ground and were busying ourselves gathering berries, Nawasa said:
"If you will go on that little hill"--pointing to a hill near by-- "at noon to-morrow, I will bring the white girl here to this tree, and you can see her for yourself."
She made me promise her not to go any nearer the Apache camp at this time, for, said she, "If they suspect anything wrong, the white girl will be traded off to the Indians in Mexico for a slave."
After making arrangements to meet the next day, Nawasa rode off toward the Apache town, and her brother and I rode back to the Pima village.
The following day I rode back in company with my young Indian friend to within two or three miles of the berry-patch, where we separated, and I rode out to the ridge that Nawasa had pointed out to me the day previous.
I saw them standing by the tree, as she had said. I put my glass to my eyes and saw sure enough that it was a white girl with Nawasa, and that she looked very sad.
I then rode back to the Pima village. That same night the two young Indians both came home, but they would not say a word while at camp. It seemed that they would not under any consideration have let any of the other Indians know what they were up to, so the next morning when I started home they took their horses and rode with me about two miles.
After we had got away from the village some distance, I asked Nawasa if the white girl still wanted to leave the
