When Kah-go-mish set out upon his war-path, he went by ways which no white man's foot had ever trod. His family and followers began to perform the same feat in another direction.

Tah-nu-nu very nearly spoiled a name which was beginning to grow upon her brother. It was too long for common use, and it meant: "The-boy-whose-ear-pushed-away-a-piece-of-lead." Wah-wah-o-be, every now and then, strung all the syllables together, and the whole was like one of those mountain-passes, wider here and narrower there, but rugged all the way. Tah-nu-nu cut it short and called him Ping.

Wah-wah-o-be's tongue and the use she made of it helped such a trail as that amazingly. She had endless tales to tell concerning what her husband had done and was yet to do, and of the great deeds of her nation, and of the evil deeds and purposes of all pale-faces.

The questions asked by Ping and Tah-nu-nu were also endless. His proved that he knew some things already and that he had learned a part of them while the band had been upon the Reservation. Those of the little Apache girl proved for her as much and more. She must have thinking and imagining, and her eyes frequently took on a soft and dreamy look which did not come at all in those of her mother or her brother.

There were not many safer places in all the Sierras than was the little valley in which the band of Kah-go-mish encamped, an hour or so before the shadows became darkness among the chasms and gorges.

Ping ate a hearty supper, but he was in trouble. Other boys and girls, and some of the squaws, had taken a notion of turning their heads on one side and saying "Ping" when they met him, just as if they believed that he had winced from the touch of the bullet. He knew that he had not done so, but the taunt stirred up within him a very hot desire to do something heroic, like standing still to be shot at. He felt that it was an awful injustice to ridicule him for the very ear he was so proud of. The sting to his vanity kept him in motion after supper, and he strolled all over the valley. No lodges had been pitched, and the horses were scattered around, feeding, under the watchful care of several braves whose turn it was to serve as "dog-soldiers," or camp police.

The moonlight was brilliant, but Ping had no idea whether or not the mountain scenery it lighted up was grand. He did know that it was just the night for his father to do great deeds in, or for any wild animal to prowl around after its prey. The cries of several had been heard during the afternoon march and since the band halted.

Wah-wah-o-be had told him and Tah-nu-nu that these Mexican mountains fairly swarmed with Manitous and magicians, most of whom were favorable to the Apaches, but that all of them were more or less to be feared. For all that Ping knew, some of these unseen beings might be wandering up and down in that moonshine within arrow-shot of him. He felt safe in the camp, but nothing would have induced him to venture out among them. He knew very well that any Indian who got himself killed in the dark did not go to the Happy Hunting-Grounds, but had an awful time of it somewhere. As for the wild animals, he had a settled determination to kill a grizzly bear, some day, and to have his claws for a collar of honor to wear upon great occasions. He proposed to become a mighty hunter and warrior, but just now he felt sleepy, and he went back and lay down at the foot of a pine-tree, not far from the rest of his family.

Ping's eyes closed, but another pair did not. Tah-nu-nu's remained open in spite of her. She had heard more stories than Ping had, and while each tale had kept its old shape in his mind it had turned into twenty new forms in her own.

That is one difficulty about having an imagination, and Tah-nu-nu's had been getting more and more excited ever since the Mexican bullet tore her beautiful red dress. She kept thinking, too, of her heroic father and of the great things he would have to tell when he should get back from his war-path.

Tah-nu-nu lacked only a few years of being a grown-up squaw, and Wah-wah-o-be often braided her hair for her, like that of a young pale-face lady at the Reservation headquarters. Some day a great brave was to come and pay many ponies for her, and she would then rule his lodge for him and scold eloquently, like her mother. She had, therefore, a long list of matters to dream about as she lay awake among the bushes where Wah-wah-o-be and several other squaws had spread their blankets. It was at some distance from the fires which the "dog-soldiers" kept slowly burning. Not far away, on the left, were the tall pines under one of which Ping had curled down, while outside of all was a bare ledge of rock, littered with bowlders and fragments.

There were streaks and patches of shining white quartz here and there. Tah-nu-nu had never heard of such a thing as beauty, any more than Ping, but she felt its power as he did not. She arose and stole softly out to look at the marvellous picture made by that ledge in the moonlight. She looked and looked, but she had no Apache word for what she saw. It was all utterly still during many minutes, and then Tah-nu-nu was sure she saw something moving around at the farther border of the ledge. Her first impulse was to go out and see what it was, but her next thought was of her bow and arrows and of Ping.

"Ugh!" said Ping, as she shook his arm, and he sprang to his feet.

"Hist!" she said. "Come! Look!"

He strung his bow and fastened his quiver of arrows to his belt, while she whispered an exclamation. Then he went to where the family packs had been thrown down and brought back a weapon at which Tah-nu-nu nodded approval.

Days before that a careless pony had stepped upon and broken one of the best lances of Kah-go-mish. The blade was as keen as ever, and there were six feet of shaft remaining, below the crosspiece, so that it made a pretty dangerous-looking pike, although it was no longer a lance.

Ping followed Tah-nu-nu, and not a word was uttered until they were out upon the ledge. Some prowling wolf might be there, attracted by the odor of cooked meat and fish, or even some more important animal, for bears also have noses. Ping would not have given a useless alarm for anything. That would have brought upon him sharper ridicule than had the scratch on his ear. He had no idea that any human enemy could be near that lonely camp, and wild animals, he knew, were sure to keep at a distance from camp-fires. That was true, but then Wah-wah-o-be and her friends were not camp-fires, and were not near to any. They were asleep away out on that side of the camp, and it was so safe that it had no sentry, and the eyes of Tah-nu-nu had been of so much the greater value.

She and Ping were stealing out upon the broken ledge, and he had an arrow upon the string, but she had not, as yet.

"Ugh!" he said, as he crouched low and drew his arrow to the head.

Tah-nu-nu uttered a sharp cry. It was the Apache word for "cougar!"

Ping's bowstring twanged, and then he bounded to the right as if he were dodging something. So he was, for the whole camp heard the snarling roar with which a great "mountain lion" came rushing through the air and crashed down a bush close to the children of Kah-go-mish and Wah-wah-o-be.

Ping's arrow had been well aimed, for it was buried in the breast of the cougar. Another went into his side, as he came down, and that was from the hand of a girl-archer. Tah-nu-nu had worked like a flash, and her arrow operated as a sting, for the wounded beast made yet another tremendous bound.

All the squaws were on their feet, and Wah-wah-o-be could not have told why she picked up her blanket as she arose. She was worthy to be the wife of a chief, however, for when the cougar alighted almost in front of her, she promptly threw the blanket over him. Another and another blanket followed, while he rolled upon the ground, mad with pain and rage, tearing the unexpected bedclothes and snarling ferociously.

There had come into the dull mind of The-boy-whose-ear-pushed-away-a-piece-of-lead a great memory of a story he had heard of a warrior who faced a cougar single-handed. With it came another, of a chief standing alone upon a rock while a hundred enemies fired at him.

"I am the son of Kah-go-mish!" he shouted, exultingly, and before the fierce wild beast could free himself, there was Ping in front of him, spear in hand.

Any experienced cougar-hunter would have been inclined to say, "Good-bye, Ping," but the Apache boy was not thinking of the risk he was running. He knew what to do, and he put all the strength of his tough young body into the thrust with which he sent his weapon, low down, inside the animal's shoulder. The sharp blade went in, up to the crosspiece, just as the bow of Tah-nu-nu twanged again, and there were piercing shrieks on all sides. The loudest came from Wah-wah-o-be, as the cougar made a convulsive effort to reach his rash assailant, for over and over went Ping in spite of all his bracing.

He would have fared worse if the butt of the spear-shaft had not caught a better brace against the ground, so that the cougar did not fall upon him.

The blade had done its work. There were two or three more long rips made in Wah-wah-o-be's woollen treasure and then the cougar lay still.

Ping was beyond all ridicule now, for he had proved himself a young brave. Wah-wah-o-be was so proud of him that she had not a word of grief to utter over the mess of woollen ribbons which was all that remained of her best Reservation blanket.