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It wasn’t long before there were children in the trees everywhere, shaking the branches, throwing the fruit down to the grassy ground, where their fathers and mothers sat laughing and wondering at everything. To the children it was all like a fairy tale. There were dances and games and every kind of jollity under the stately old trees, and it took some skill to get the people to their places when the feast was ready.,

Mr. Whitney knew that something was wrong, but he did not know what. Bob’s confidence in his Chief was great but he feared that no matter how strong and capable Mr. Whitney might be, he would be powerless to avert the calamity that seemed on the way, unless he had some definite notice that it was approaching.,

The place was in great confusion. The shooting, first of the Indians and then of the soldiers, had thoroughly waked up the town. The center of the activity seemed to be around the Mexican camp and when they reached the outskirts of the crowd that was jostling together in the street, they realized that the Mexicans were trapped, that if they had been unwise enough to start something they were outnumbered three to one. Here and there were Feather-in-the-Wind’s braves, ready for any emergency.,

Among the holy sisters, Julia distinguished one, the singular fervor of whose devotion, and the pensive air of whose countenance, softened by the languor of illness, attracted her curiosity, and excited a strong degree of pity. The nun, by a sort of sympathy, seemed particularly inclined towards Julia, which she discovered by innumerable acts of kindness, such as the heart can quickly understand and acknowledge, although description can never reach them. In conversation with her, Julia endeavoured, as far as delicacy would permit, to prompt an explanation of that more than common dejection which shaded those features, where beauty, touched by resignation and sublimed by religion, shone forth with mild and lambent lustre.

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Feather-in-the-Wind! Perhaps the Indian would miss him and sound the alarm? Besides, Bob had asked him to look out for trouble with the Mexicans and perhaps, just perhaps, he might tell Mr. Whitney.,

Here his steps lingered a little, but he walked on nevertheless.,

“That’s great! I sure hope he does. I’ll be back all right—that is, if you’ll have a place for me,” Bob finished, speaking to Mr. Whitney who had come up to the group.,

“Boss Whitney not here,” stated the Indian. “Boss Taylor good man but not like Chief. You wait for him. Now I go send one, two my young men trail Miguel. Perhaps they catch him—Jenkins, he never catch him. He tired. Not much good trail nohow.”