Chapter 4
Then he turned his attention back to the Indian child. �Where are you from, little one?� he asked, backing his words with signs. �Your home, where is it?� The Indian pointed to the nearby mountain range. As Diego looked more attentively in that direction, he noticed an opening at the base of the mountain barely wide enough for one horse to pass.
He walked up to the child, bringing el Diablo with him. The Indian tried to get up, but collapsed with a slight groan. Diego lifted him up gently, setting him onto el Diablo�s back. As he swung himself onto the horse�s back behind the Indian, young de la Vega felt a dull pain in his side that with all the excitement he did not notice until now. His shirt was torn slightly in that place, and Diego tore it even more to reveal a large bruise. He winced, as his fingers touched the bruised area, and shook his head, thinking about how upset his father would probably be when he sees this. He steered el Diablo toward the opening in the mountain, carefully supporting the little boy in front of him.
***
The opening turned out to be a long narrow passage that wove its way through the mountain core. As they emerged on the other side, the Indian pointed to the winding path that led to the thick woods ahead of them. El Diablo trotted forward in that direction, and the woods soon swallowed them up, muffling the already distant sounds of the river.
Moments later the woods parted once again, revealing the most amazing sight that Diego has ever seen. The glade that they rode onto was filled with triangular shaped houses covered with animal skins � an Indian settlement. He had never seen one like it. A group of Indian children was playing at the entrance to one of the houses, but they scattered screaming the minute they saw Diego. Their screams gathered a crowd of Indians around el Diablo who shied nervously at the sight of them. Diego squeezed the reins and patted the animal, trying to calm it down � somehow he did not feel like being thrown off its back at that moment.
He dismounted carefully and helped the little boy down. A few angry shouts rang above Diego�s ear, and he swallowed hard � his throat suddenly becoming so dry that it began to hurt. He often heard stories of Indians killing the white men, and he wondered what they would do to him now. One of their group, a tall grave-looking man, walked up to the two newcomers and said something to the little kid. The latter responded, somewhat frantically, pointing to Diego who was still supporting him by the arm. The tall Indian nodded and shifted his gaze onto the older boy, �You may let go of him, white boy,� he said in broken Spanish.
The young de la Vega was so utterly astounded to hear Spanish speech that he froze on the spot, looking bewilderedly at the tall Indian, while his hand released the little boy�s arm almost as if obeying some kind of a reflex. The Indian smiled, holding out his arm to catch the child who started to fall as he stepped away from Diego.
�I am Lone Wolf,� the tall man said, gathering the child up into his arms. �You?�
�Diego de la Vega,� the boy answered, shaking off his numbness.
Lone Wolf nodded approvingly, �You saved life of Little Cub. You are welcome in our home.� He turned to the others, apparently relating to them what he just told Diego. The crowd�s response was seemingly rather cheerful, and the Indian nodded again, turning back to the young Californiano. �Shooting Star will give cure to Little Cub. Do you wish to have cure also?� he pointed to Diego�s bruised side.
�Shooting Star?�
�My wife,� the Indian nodded at the woman who stood by his side.
Diego bowed slightly, remembering his manners. �Gracias, but no. I must return. My father will be worried.� He turned to el Diablo, preparing to mount.
Lone Wolf put his hand on the boy�s shoulder, holding him back. �I ride with you. Woods are dark now. Easy to lose way.�
�Gracias. But I live too far from here, in a hacienda. Far beyond the river.�
Lone Wolf smiled, �I think I can find it.�