The Wild Girl by FERGUS Jim

Author:FERGUS, Jim [FERGUS, Jim]
Language: fra
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Hyperion
Published: 2005-04-06T05:00:00+00:00

4 JUNE, 1932

Today we came upon our first sign of the Apaches. We rode into a clearing on the crest of a hillside, and there we found several crude rock pillars, built of stones stacked on top of one another, three feet or so high and spaced about twenty yards apart. Joseph dismounted and knelt by one of them, examining it. He spoke to the girl.

“What are those?” I asked Albert.

“We are in Apache country,” he said.

“You mean they’re some kind of boundary markers?”

“Apaches do not make boundaries,” he said. “White Eyes make boundaries. These are used for another purpose.”

We have camped for the night in the clearing not far from these stone monuments. There is a distinct chill in the high mountain air, and a certain sense of foreboding among us, as if the markers themselves have the power to create climate and mood. And perhaps this, then, is their purpose, to warn off intruders. There was even some discussion about whether or not we should avoid making a fire tonight for fear of giving away our location, until it was pointed out that we are trying to make contact with the Apaches, not avoid it. In any case, Joseph now tells us that he has seen signs of the Apaches for the past two days, and that they have known of our presence for at least that long, that they know exactly how many we are and that we are traveling with the girl.

“How do you know all this, Joseph?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“The signs were there for you to see,” he said.

This information put us even more on edge, and that night around the campfire we decided that we should begin posting a guard at night.

“And what will you White Eyes do,” Albert asked, “if a wild Apache sneaks into our camp while you’re on guard duty?”

“I don’t know, Albert,” I admitted. “I’d probably ask him to pose for a photograph.”

“Yeah, and I’d want to interview him for my thesis,” Margaret said.

“What about you, Mr. Browning?” Albert asked.

“I am not a violent man by nature, sir,” Mr. Browning said. “I would probably try diplomacy. Perhaps I’d offer him a spot of tea. When I was in Kenya with my former master, Lord Crowley, I found that a cup of tea provided a wonderful icebreaker with the natives.”

“We’re a dangerous bunch, all right,” Margaret said. “What would you do, Tolley? Try to have a peek under his breechcloth?”

“Very funny, darling,” Tolley said. “As a matter of fact, I would raise my hand in the sign of peace to show the fellow that we are here in a spirit of goodwill. And I would say”—Tolley drew himself up—“Chuu ilts’ee’a.”

Margaret started giggling, and even Albert laughed. “He would either kill you where you stood, Tolley,” Albert said, “or he would roll on the ground in laughter.”

“I’m hoping for the latter,” Tolley said. “Because it’s the only thing I know how to say in Apache. I made

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