She gave a scream of joy.

"Oh, you dear, good fellow!" she cried, once more like a girl. "I could hug you for that!"

"Don't do it!" warned John Swiftwing, hoa.r.s.ely. "I might change my mind!"

She waved her handkerchief, and the black speck on the plain fluttered something white. The black speck was moving, and dust arose in a tiny cloud behind it.

"He has seen us," said the Indian. "Come on; we will go down."

He led her to the horse and lifted her upon the animal's back. Then he led the horse down the mountain to meet the trailer.

The sun was low when they met. Frank Merriwell had a rifle in his hands, and it was aimed straight at the Indian's heart.

"Up with your hands, Swiftwing!" he ordered, sternly. "Don't try anything crooked, for a hundred armed men are coming behind me, and they have sworn to hunt you down like a dog."

The redskin smiled scornfully.

"If they were a thousand it would make no difference," he said. "They could not find me. I will not put up my hands, Merriwell, so shoot if you wish!"

"Don't shoot, Frank!" screamed Inza. "He saw you coming, and he brought me to meet you!"

"Brought you to meet me?" repeated Frank, doubtingly. "Why should he do that?"

"He is going to give me up-going to let me go back with you."

"Is that right, Swiftwing?"

The Indian bowed.

"The White Dove speaks straight," he said, quietly.

"But-but I do not understand! They said the only way to save her was to kill you-that you were like all Indians, and--"

Swiftwing seemed to cringe a bit, and the black look on his face deepened.

"They were wrong," he said. "To-day I am not an Indian-I am a fool! Tell them I was a fool, and I brought the White Dove to meet you! Do you know what I have done, Merriwell? I will tell you. By giving the White Dove up after taking her away as I did, I shall win the contempt of my people. They will look on me as a coward! They will spit on me with scorn! They will say I have the heart of a chicken! With them I shall be an outcast and a thing of contempt. Is it nothing? I have done this for you-and for the White Dove. I thought she loved me; she says she does not. Take her-take her away. Never shall I look on her again! Farewell, Merriwell!"

"Your hand, John Swiftwing!" cried Frank. "Your heart is all right, after all! Old fellow, I'll see you this fall, when we play Carlisle again!"

With a sad smile, the Indian youth shook his head.

"I shall not be there," he said.

"No? Why, how is that? I do not understand!"

"I shall not go back to the white man's school."

"You won't? What is the meaning of that? Why won't you go back?"

"Because it is useless. They are right when they say the Indian can never become like the white man. I shall try no more."

"But-but you are different! Think what you have done this day! By Jove!

you have shown yourself all right! Think what a hero you would be at school if they knew the story! You are the lion of the football team anyhow. They can't get along without you."

"They must, for they will have me no more. You say I am different from the Indians. Perhaps I am to-day; but to-morrow and ever after that I shall be an Indian in everything! I shall forget that I was at the white man's school. I shall forget that I can read and write and make the white man's figures. I shall go back to be the same as I was before I learned such things, and my people will despise me, for they will say I am neither a white man nor an Indian."

Frank used all his eloquence to influence the Indian to change his mind, but it was useless. Then Inza tried, but with no better success.

"Farewell," said John again. "Take the horse to the Pueblo. It is owned there. Farewell forever!"

Inza's eyes were full of tears.

"It's too bad!" she sobbed. "I am so sorry!"

John Swiftwing said not another word, but, turning his face toward the mountains, walked swiftly away. Not once did he turn about and look back.

Frank and Inza rode to meet the white men, who were seen in the distance, coming madly along the trail. When they had traveled for a time they turned to look for John Swiftwing.

He was near the foot of the mountains, and, as they looked, he was swallowed from view by the deep shadows at the base of the Taos Range.

"Oh, Frank, it was n.o.ble of him, after all," said Inza, half tearfully.

"But-but I hope we don't meet again."

"It is not likely," returned Frank.

"And, Frank--"

"Well?"

"Can you forgive me?"

"Willingly," he cried, and gave her a gentle hug that meant a great deal.

When they reached the other hors.e.m.e.n Frank sprang a surprise on them.

"It was only a bit of fun," he said. "But Swiftwing thought best not to come back for fear there would be trouble."

But in secret he told his companions the truth, and it was decided to leave the Pueblo of Taos early the next morning.

"Sure, an' it was great sport, that contist," said Barney.

"We'll never see anything galf as hood-no, half as good," came from Harry.

"Don't be too sure of that," put in Diamond. "We are not home yet by a jugful. Lots may happen before we get there."

CHAPTER XXVI-MORNING AT RODNEY'S RANCH