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said.
    "We would not go far," I said. "We are lost without her."
    "The Spaniards will find us here," Running Bird said.
    The sound of a blue jay fluttering into a tree made me jump. The stream sounded like men's voices speaking. Then I saw five figures on the hill beyond the pine grove. They were deer coming down to drink at the stream, but I shouted anyway. At my cry Nehana jumped to her feet. She looked in the direction I pointed.
    "Deer," she said scornfully.
    But she did not lie down again. She got on her horse and we followed her. The stream had a sandy bottom and we rode along between its banks.
    "They will follow our tracks to the stream," Nehana said. "They will decide that we rode north, for that is the shortest way."
    We rode until midmorning, never leaving the stream. The current washed away all signs of our passage. We came to a wide meadow and Nehana led us across it, and, doubling back, we climbed a high ridge. Near the crest where a few trees grew she stopped and got off her horse, motioning us to follow. We crawled through the brush and rocks until we came to the highest part of the ridge.
    Below us lay the country we had traveled that morning—the stream winding northward, the clump of budding cottonwoods where we had watered the horses and Nehana had gone to sleep. Near noon, as we crouched among the trees, three horsemen rode down the hill where I had seen the deer.
    The sun glinted on their silver bridles. They rode back and got down from their horses and stood around for a while under the cottonwoods. Then they jumped into their saddles and started off at a quick trot, two on one side of the stream and one on the other, not in the direction Nehana had said they would ride but down the stream, toward us.
    "We go," Nehana said. "We go fast and for our lives."
    We crawled back to our horses. Keeping below the crest of the ridge, we rode its length through heavy brush. We rode down into a wide canyon and headed north, back in the direction of the cottonwood grove. We rode fast. We knew that the Spaniards would find our tracks where we had left the stream and crossed the meadow and climbed the ridge.

11
    N IGHT WAS FALLING as we again readied the stream and the grove of budding cottonwoods. We had seen no sign of the Spaniards during the afternoon, but they were not far behind us.
    Our horses had begun to stumble, so we watered them and went a short way and rode into a draw that was hidden from the stream.
    'We will rest here until the moon rises," Nehana said. "It is too dark now for the Spaniards to see our
tracks. Lie down and sleep. I will keep watch."
    Running Bird and I bathed our faces in the stream and ate some of the tortillas she had brought. Then we went back where the horses were tied and laid down. I slept for a while and had a bad dream and awoke to the sound of my black dog barking.
    He was standing beside me in the grass, faced toward the stream. Running Bird was already on her feet trying to quiet him. I reached out and put my hand over his muzzle, but he squirmed away and kept barking. I ran toward the horses, which Nehana had untied.
    "He may be barking at a wild animal," I said.
    "It is time to go," Nehana said.
    The moon was rising over the hill behind us. But it was dark night in the draw where we were hidden. There was no other way out of the draw save the narrow way we had come. We started toward the stream where the moonlight glittered on the water and the cottonwoods. My black dog was still barking.
    Nehana said, "I would rather die than be captured again."
    I felt the same as Nehana did. I followed her closely and Running Bird followed me. The three of us rode out of the draw, gripping the horses' reins. We were ready to flee at the first sight of the Spaniards.
    Before we reached the stream, two horsemen came out of the trees into the moonlight. Something about them—the size of their horses and the way they rode—made me think they were Indians. We were not more than a