Juanita [pp. 350-357]

87UANTA 34.
saying, simply, "I have the rosary no
more!" Then Screetah knew that all
hope was lost, and she pleaded no more,
but broke the beautiful, sun-baked pottery, tore the matting from the floor, and
crouched by the threshold from noon to
night, and night till morning, waiting
quietly for the silent guest that she
knew would some day, soon, enter there
with Juanita.
One day, she came slowly down from
the hill and entered the dark adobe,
where Screetah sat silent by the door.
"A little cloud of dust is rising on the
horizon," she said to the old Indian,
"and I must prepare;" and Screetah
only wailed the death-song of her race.
Though Juanita had returned on foot,
she had ridden away on the pony the
day before, and the soldiers started out
to look for the animal, thinking it had
escaped from her, or had been stolen by
some marauding Indian. But they found
the carcass not far from camp -with
Juanita's dagger in the animal's heart.
The next day she went to the top of the
hill again, and when night came, she
said, "The cloud grows bigger." On
the third day, when Juanita lay stretched on the hard, uncomfortable bed, denuded of all its gay robes and blankets,
a sudden excitement arose outside, such
as the signs of any thing approaching
camp always create. A hundred different opinions were expressed as to what
and who it could be. Nearer and near
er came the cloud of dust, and a cry of
surprise went up; as the horse fell from
fatigue on the edge of the camp, and
the rider took his way to old Screetah's
hut.
What passed within those dark, low
walls- what passionate appeals for forgiveness, what frantic remorse and bitter self-accusations they echoed- only
Screetah and the dying girl knew. The
old Indian was touched, and tried to
plead for him; but Juanita seemed to
heed neither the man's presence nor the
woman's entreaties. She died "with
her face to the wall," and the words of
forgiveness, which he had staked life
and honor to hear, were never uttered
by those firmly closed lips.
With the day of Juanita's death commenced the old Indian woman's search
for the rosary, and she tore her hair in
desperation when they laid the girl in
her narrow cell before she had found it.
Day after day, the search was continued.
Was it not the peace of Juanita's soul
she was seeking to restore? After awhile
the camp was broken up, by orders from
District Head - quarters, and a foragestation established. Our friend, whose
term of service had expired, was made
station-keeper, and, one by one, the people from the settlement followed the military, till, at last, only he and old Screetah were left of all the little band that
had once filled the dreary spot with the
busy hum of life.
0
1872.]
357