The Runaway Papoose/Chapter 11

When they had eaten all the rabbit stew and piki bread and little seed cakes that they felt they could eat, the sun was very low in the sky, and already one big star hung like a lantern over the mesa. This had been a very long day, and many things had happened, but the strangest thing of all was yet to happen before the moon came up; but Nah-tee did not know that. She felt very comfortable with the rabbit stew inside, and the warm glow of the fire outside, and the woman looking at her with a friendly smile in her eyes and singing a little song under her breath. It was much like a home place, this camp fire, and the little children who belonged ​there looked happy, too. But Moyo did not look so comfortable. He had a worry look in his eyes in spite of the stew and the friendly woman, and in a little he leaned over to Loki and spoke in a low voice, but Nah-tee and the woman, too, heard the words that he said, and the woman did not sing any more.

“You have said how the man who will be chief when Lampayo is gone has very little eyes,” said Moyo. “A man with little eyes has been looking at us for a long time. He watches everything that we do—over there he stands,” and Moyo made a motion with his lips toward a man who stood in the shadow of a big rock not far from the camp fire where they sat.

“Yes,” nodded the woman, “that is Su-hú-bi—I have seen how he is there. Always he watches like that when there is a thing he does not understand. Like a snake he is—like a snake who hides in the sage. Ugh! It makes a shiver feeling come in me to see him.”

“Is he an evil one?” asked Nah-tee, and she gave a little shiver, too, as the woman had done; she did not know why, but she could not help it.

“Not ever have I seen evil that he has done,” said the woman, “and no one knows that he has ​truly done bad things; but evil things happen, and something says that Su-hú-bi has done them. He will not be a good one to have for chief. I have a hope that Lampayo will live for many suns.”

“But why do they make him chief if the people do not like him and he is evil?” asked Nah-tee wonderingly.

“That is a thing you will not understand,” said the woman. “Not even do I understand very well. But there is no son for Lampayo, and no brother, and when he is gone Su-hú-bi is the one who is the highest in the pueblo. What the people like does not matter, it is a law, and the law is stronger than the people.”

“Hush!” said Loki quickly. ““See how he comes over here.” And they silently watched the man as he came close to their camp fire.

Nah-tee did not like the look of him at the very first. There was no kindness in his face, and it was true that his eyes were very small and close together. She watched how those eyes looked quickly at each one of them before he spoke—little they were, but very sharp like the eyes of a snake, as the woman had said. He stood near to them and crossed his arms, and for a little he did not speak. It looked to Nah-tee ​as if he wanted them to see who he was and to feel that he was very powerful. Then he spoke.

“I am Su-hú-bi,” he said, and waited another minute before his next words. “When Lampayo is not here I am chief—and now Lampayo is not here—he is in kiva. All who come to this pueblo with words for Lampayo must come now to Su-hú-bi. I have been told that you have words for Lampayo. Tell them now to me.”

Nah-tee felt that for a little her tongue would not move to make words, but Loki spoke quickly in her stead.

“The words that we have are for Lampayo,” he said, “and we will wait until he can come.”

“You will not wait,” answered Su-hú-bi, in a very even voice, but there was a hard sound under the evenness. “You will tell me now—and it is not you who will speak.” He frowned darkly at Loki and then looked keenly at Nah-tee. “Why have you come to this mesa, girl?”

Nah-tee got quickly to her feet and stood in front of him on her blanket and looked squarely into his eyes. She was not afraid now—not one single bit—and a strange feeling of excitement brought the blood burning to her cheeks. She could think of no reason

​at all why she should not tell this man what she had told to others. No evil could come of that surely, and maybe good would come—maybe he would know things that the others did not know, if he was next to chief. And so she told him all the same story that she had told to Mah-pee-ti and to the woman at the fire, but about the little bag that was under her dress she did not tell him, and about things that the old man of the cliff had told to her—those things were for Lampayo and for no one else. And Su-hú-bi watched her as she talked; strange looks came into his face, and one time his eyes were like little points of light—green and queer-looking—but he did not say one word until she had told him all the tale, and then for a while he stood silent, still looking into her face with those eyes that seemed to see everything and yet did not meet her own. It was plain that what she had told him had made him think deeply, and the look in his face told that the thoughts were not pleasant ones.

“Your words have not told me,” he said then, “they have not made plain to me why you have come to this mesa. Why did you think to find your father and mother and your people at this place? Did they tell you that they would come here?”

​“No—o,” said Nah-tee slowly. “They did not tell me that, and I do not know why I came—only—all other people came here—I thought maybe they, too, would come because of that.”

Su-hú-bi frowned.

“Why do you think they have not gone back to the place they have come from? I think that is what they have done.”

“Oh, no,” said Loki suddenly. “I do not think that. Over there, this very morning, there was a camp of people at the foot of the mesa, and I think they were the people of Nah-tee.” Su-hú-bi frowned more deeply than before, and the look in his eyes was very ugly to see as he turned to Loki.

“Always you speak when I do not ask you,” he said. “If people were in that camp, where have they gone now? I am the one who am told such things. Not to you, a child, are they told. And your words are not true—I know how they are not true. Have you told to others all these things that you have told to me?” He asked this of Nah-tee, and his face was very different when he turned to her, and the hard sound was not in his voice, but his eyes were the same.

“To some others I have told them,” said Nah-tee. “To Mah-pee-ti and to this woman who is kind.” ​“Ah,” he said, “to Mah-pee-ti,” and his eyes were so little now that they were hardly a thing to see at all. Then—“Wait here,” he said, “I will come back and I will have a thing to show you,” then quickly he had turned and was gone. So quickly that even the woman stood with open mouth and rubbed her eyes to see if they were not telling her things that were not true.

“Now, that is strange,” she said, and turned to Nah-tee. “Did you hear how he said to wait? Maybe it is that he knows more than we know.”

“I do not like that man,” said Nah-tee, “and I do not like the things that he tells.”

“I do not believe his words,” said Loki. “There is evil in his face. Maybe he has reason for what he says—I do not know what the reason can be, but I think he does not tell true things. But we will wait here and see what he will show.”

Nah-tee shivered a little.

“It is growing cold,” she said, “but I am glad the night is so close. Something tells me that to-morrow good things will come.”

Loki nodded.

“Chi-weé has that inside voice like that,” he said, “and always it tells true. I am glad, too, that to-​morrow is so near. I have not forgotten how the dance is to come, and after that the good things—you do not know how there are more good things than ever you have seen—and I know how your own people will be there when it is the time for the dance.”

“Su-hú-bi says for you to come,” said a voice very suddenly, close at hand—and all of them jumped, it came so unexpectedly. “Su-hú-bi says for the three little ones to come—not the woman,” said the voice again, and the man who spoke stood very tall and looked at the woman who had made a move to come with them.

“I would like to come, too,” said the woman. “I will have a care of those children.”

“Su-hú-bi says, ‘Bring three children and no woman,’” said the man again, and he did not move from her path when she tried to pass him.

“Then do not go!” she cried to Nah-tee. “Do not go with this man. It will be better if you will stay with me.” Nah-tee stood uncertainly—she did not know just what to do. What was this thing that Su-hú-bi would show? She was curious about that—very curious and excited—and surely he could not wish to do harm to the two boys or to herself.

“Su-hú-bi will show you how your mother is ​come,” said the man then, when he saw her uncertainty. “He said you will be glad to see the thing he will show—and the two boys—they, too, will be glad. There is no harm to come—this woman is foolish. Su-hú-bi will have anger if you do not come quickly.”

“I think it would be good to go,” said Moyo. “Maybe he will take us to Lampayo.”

The woman gave a shrug to her shoulders, then:

“If you will go, you will go,” she said, “but I do not like it.”

Nah-tee threw her arms about the woman’s neck.

“You have been good,” she said, “and we give you thanks, but we will come back and show you how we are safe, and my mother, too, will give you thanks. There is no harm that can come—you will see how we are very safe.”

The woman did not answer, but there was a worry look in her face as the three followed the tall man away from her camp fire and into the shadows that were deep now about the foot of the mesa.

The man did not follow the trail that led up the side of the mesa, as Nah-tee had thought that he would, but took an indistinct path through rocks and brush that led around the mesa and over low hills ​a little way out into the desert. After they had walked for what seemed a very long while Loki stopped suddenly and asked:

“Why do we go away out in this place?”

The man did not stop but spoke over his shoulder:

“Su-hú-bi say—strange people from camp out here in hogan—people of little girl, maybe. Very close now. Su-hú-bi say—big hogan on this trail—you shall see.”

The heart of Nah-tee beat high in her breast at his words. Could it be true? Would she truly see her mother now—in just one little moment? And why was there such mystery about it? Why did her people always move as if it were a secret thing that they did? These were very troublesome thoughts and very big. She walked close to Loki.

“Do you think he tells a true thing?” she asked in a low voice so that the man could not hear. But that was a thing Loki could not answer.

“We can only wait and see,” he said. “I do not very much like this thing, but I do not think that they would do us any harm—there is no reason, and it would give nothing to Su-hú-bi.”

“No,” said Moyo, walking close to the other two. “And we are three—I think anyone would fear to do ​us harm.” And just then they all three at the same moment saw the big hogan by the side of the trail. Smoke was coming out of the top, and Nah-tee gave a little jump as she saw it.

“Quick!” she cried. “Maybe it is true! Maybe my mother is there.” And she ran a little toward the hogan. It was black dark now, and they were very far from any of the camps at the foot of the mesa, and not anyone was near to this place. Not anyone but the man who had come with them, and he stopped now at one side of the doorway of the hogan and waited for them to enter.

Loki saw all this quickly, and he felt that something was not right.

“Wait!” he cried to Nah-tee. “Do not go in. We will look first and see if your mother is here!” But Nah-tee had not heard him. Already she had gone past the blanket that was hanging in the inner doorway, and as Loki and Moyo hesitated for one moment another man came from behind the hogan—Loki could not be sure, but it looked to be Su-hú-bi—and together they pushed the boys roughly through the entrance and closed a heavy door of logs behind them. It did not help that Loki kicked and fought as the men pushed him in, they were very strong ​and only laughed at what he did; and he heard them put other logs against the door to make it strong.

“What is it?” cried Nah-tee, and her eyes were big with fright as she turned to face the two boys. “There is no one here—why do they bring us to this place?”

“Maybe sometime we will know,” said Loki bitterly. “Now we do not know—but one thing I know—this very minute I remember it. That man, the one who fought with your father in the desert—I could not remember then who he was. Now I know—it was Su-hú-bi!” and he kicked angrily at a little piece of wood on the floor to think that he had not known this thing before.