starter. She saw the machine slide out of the group and away in a wide circle
to regain the trail. She saw the group break and start off in various
directions as duty or a passing interest led. But Wagalexa Conka never once
seemed to remember that she was not there. Never once did he speak her name.

Instead, just as Rosemary was leading the way into the house, this slim young
woman they called Jean glanced around inquiringly. "I thought you had a squaw
working for you," she said in that soft, humorous voice of hers. "The one who
did the Indian girl in The Phantom Herd. Isn't she here any more?"

"Oh, yes!" Luck stopped with one foot on the porch. "Sure! Where is Annie?
Anybody know?"

"She was around here just before you came," said Rosemary carelessly. "I don't
know where she went."

"Hid out, I reckon," Luck commented. "Injuns are heap shy of meeting
strangers. She'll show up after a little."

Annie-Many-Ponies stooped and slid safely past the window that might betray
her, and then slipped away behind the house. She waited, and she listened; for
though the adobe walls were thick, there were open windows and her hearing was
keen. Within was animated babel and much laughter. But not once again did
Annie-Many-Ponies hear her name spoken. Not once again did Wagalexa Conka
remember her. Save when she, that slim woman who bad come to play his leads,
asked to see her, she had been wholly forgotten. Even then she had been named
a squaw. It was as though they had been speaking of a horse. They did not
count her worthy of a place in their company, they did not miss her voice and
her smile.