So tired was she that, in spite of her alarms, sleep took her almost as
soon as her head touched the pillow. When she awakened the sun was shining
in at her window above the curtain strung across its lower half.
Some one was knocking at the door. When she asked who was there, in a
voice which could not conceal its tremors, the answer came in feminine
tones: "'Tis I--Rosario Chaves."
The Mexican woman was not communicative, nor did she appear to be
sympathetic. The plight of this girl might have moved even an unresponsive
heart, but Rosario showed a stolid face to her distress. What had to be
said, she said. For the rest, she declined conversation absolutely.
Breakfast was served Melissy in her room, after which Rosario led her
outdoors. The woman gave her to understand that she might walk about the
cleared space, but must not pass into the woods beyond. To point the need
of obedience, Rosario seated herself on the porch, and began doing some
drawn work upon which she was engaged.
Melissy walked toward the corral, but did not reach it. An old hag was
seated in a chair beside one of the log cabins. From the color of her skin
the girl judged her to be an Indian squaw. She wore moccasins, a dirty and
shapeless one-piece dress, and a big sunbonnet, in which her head was
buried.
Sitting on the floor of the porch, about fifteen feet from her, was a
hard-faced customer, with stony eyes like those of a snake. He was sewing
on a bridle that had given way. Melissy noticed that from the pocket of
his chaps the butt of a revolver peeped. She judged it to be the custom in
Dead Man's Cache to go garnished with weapons.
Her curiosity led her to deflect toward the old woman. But she had not
taken three steps toward the cabin before the man with the jade eyes
stopped her.
"That'll be near enough, ma'am," he said, civilly enough. "This old crone
has a crazy spell whenever a stranger comes nigh. She's nutty. It ain't
safe to come nearer--is it, old Sit-in-the-Sun?"
The squaw grunted. Simultaneously, she looked up, and Miss Lee thought
that she had never seen more piercing eyes.
"Is Sit-in-the-Sun her name?" asked the girl curiously.
"That's the English of it. The Navajo word is a jawbreaker."
"Doesn't she understand English?"
"No more'n you do Choctaw, miss."
A quick step crunched the gravel behind Melissy. She did not need to look
around to know that here was Black MacQueen.