The Runaway Papoose/Chapter 15

There had been many dances up on the mesa top, but now was to come the biggest time of all—the surprise time that Lampayo had spoken about—and there was a fresh wave of excitement plainly to be felt and seen. Little children who had been laughing until the tears came to their eyes at the things done by the clowns, crept close to their mothers and waited. The drums in the kiva began to beat to a new rhythm, and the place of dancers in the square was empty. There were people everywhere. It seemed as if the housetops were alive with dots of color, and the mother of Chi-weé shaded her eyes with her hand and looked 1n every place for Chi-weé, but she did not come back—that Chi-weé—not ​yet. And the mother of Loki came panting up the trail.

“Not all this day and not all last night have I seen him,” she said breathlessly. “Always Loki comes back and does many things that help me, but this time he has not come, and I have worry thoughts for him.”

“Ah,” said the mother of Chi-weé, “if Loki is gone, too, then I think my Chi-weé is with him and they are both safe. Maybe they both look for the little runaway papoose—that is what Chi-weé said.” And then she spoke in a lower voice to the mother of Loki. “The white agent man is here on the mesa top, and I think he does not come to see a dance. He walked past with eyes that saw no one and a frown on his face—I do not like that.” And others did not like it, and spoke in low voices with their eyes turned toward the place where he had gone.

And then a man walked out into the open place of the dancers, and his face was very red and angry. It was Su-hú-bi, and the people held their breath to see him. It was not pleasant to see Su-hú-bi, and he did not look to have pleasant things to say.

He held up his hand; there was a silence immediately, and he began to speak.

“Lampayo is your chief,” he said, and his voice ​was hard like his face, “and a next-to-chief does not say words against the chief one, but Lampayo has done things that are not right. Very soon you will know what he has done and you will not like it. I, Su-hú-bi, do not like the thing that he has done—and your children will not like it. I have tried very hard to make him do a different thing, and he will tell you evil against me for that, but I have not done wrong, and some day you will know it. If you were strong in your hearts you would not let Lampayo do this thing, but I think you are not strong. The white man has made you weak, and like a willow in his hands you bend, or like a feather in the air you go the way he blows.” There was a murmur of voices when Su-hú-bi said that, but he did not stop to listen to what they said. “Your little children go to school and come back with white-man ways, and you say, “It is good,” but it is not good. I, Su-hú-bi, tell you that it is not good! And I tell you, do not listen to the words of the white man—the one who is here. He says he comes for one thing, but always you cannot believe his words. He will take the children away, and when they come back they will not be your children—they will be like white men and will not listen to your words.”

​“Much that he says is true,” spoke a voice.

“It has the sound of truth,” said the mother of Loki, but she did not speak very loud. “It is like the money that will not buy things—the look is good, but the heart of it is false. I will hear, first, what the white man has to say before I will believe Su-hú-bi.”

“It is Lampayo we would hear!” cried a voice then. “We came to hear Lampayo. See how the hour is late. If you have words to say we will hear them when Lampayo has spoken.” And not again would they listen to Su-hú-bi. They made much noise and called and laughed to one another, and pretended that they did not know that he tried to speak again—and then he went angrily away. And far down the trail others heard that noise of many voices and cried to one another.

“Go fast! See how the surprise of Lampayo is already here and we have not seen it!” And they went faster up the trail until their faces were red with the hurry, and the fat woman could not get her breath at all.

“Ai!” she cried. “If we go that fast I will drop on the trail before we get to the top!” and Nah-tee and Chi-weé stopped a little to help her, but their

​hearts were beating hard with the excitement of what was on the top of the mesa.

And then Lampayo walked out into the little square place, and his face was as if sunshine were on the inside of it, and the people shouted when they saw him and stood on their feet on the housetops, and even the little children cried aloud in joy, and it made him glad to hear their welcome, and when he held up his hand for silence there was a little tremble in his voice as he began to speak.

“My people,” he said, “my men and women and little children—I give you thanks that you are here. And always you have come when I have called. For a long time—for many moons—I have thought of this thing which I shall tell you now. And I have fasted and gone out into the desert to the high shrine places to hear, in the long silence, the voice of Him who speaks in wisdom—and I have heard and have obeyed His counsel. So the thing that I have done is not mine but has come from the Great Spirit who does not make mistakes.”

And when he said that, everyone leaned forward to hear the better. What was this thing that they were to hear? And in the silence, before Lampayo spoke again, there was the rattle of little stones ​on the trail and the fast breathing of those who ran.

“It is known to you, my people,” went on Lampayo, “how in the very long ago—in the beginning of things—our fathers lived yonder in the cañon—in the place of cliffs. And how in those days there was a division in our people, and some went north and some went south, each with a chief who was brother to the other and equal in power. And also it is known to you that the one who is ruler since that time to this very day has been a son always of our father Hukuman, both in the town of Tawamana, to the south, and in our own pueblo of the north. And never has there failed a son to the house of those who rule—never, until now,” and a sad note came into the voice of Lampayo. “There is no son to Lampayo, and he who comes next in power is not of the house of Hukuman.”

“Su-hú-bi is next,” came a murmur of voices, “and Su-hú-bi will be chief when Lampayo is gone.”

Lampayo lifted high his head at those words and looked around at the faces of the people.

“Is it your wish that Su-hú-bi should be chief?” he asked, and his voice rang loud in that quiet place. There were puzzled looks then, and men turned ​to each other with question in their eyes. Why ask a thing when there could be only one answer?

“That is why I am here this day,” said Lampayo, “to know what is your wish. For it may be that Su-hú-bi will not be chief when I am gone. I have said how I have thought of this for many moons, and I have done more than that. I have gone great distances and talked to those I shall have words of in a little while. A son has not come to Lampayo, but to our brother of the south—to Tawamana—there is still a son of Hukuman who rules. It is to him I have gone. This is the surprise I have brought to you, my people; this is the thing that has made glad the heart of Lampayo—that our brother of the south will come to the mesa—that now he is here—and, after me, his sons will rule! Do not speak quickly. Do not tell me that you will not have a stranger here, for he is not a stranger—in a moment you shall see—and it will not be good for you, my people, that Su-hú-bi rule when I am gone. For in the heart Su-hú-bi is not wise. When he had heard the thing that was in my heart to do, and I had sent messengers to show the way to my brothers of the south who came across the desert, Su-hú-bi took men ​and drove back our friends who came, and gave them false messages from me. It was an evil thing to do. But they only chose another road and came more slowly, and that is why their coming was so little known—they were men of peace and had fear that Su-hú-bi would make other evil plans. And now I will tell you of Su-hú-bi and why the agent man is here on our mesa. I have asked, and the White Father in Washington has granted that it be so, that Su-hú-bi be put in another place—a pueblo far from here. He will be more happy so, and we will be more free. For that the agent has come—to tell him this and to see that he goes in peace. One other thing I have to say—and this is sad—our brother of the south is sad, he and all his house—because a little one is lost. When they were in the desert, when Su-hú-bi came, this little one ran away from fear of those who fought, and the desert sand has swallowed even the trail of her; and so, my people, we will be sorry with him. And now—this is my brother, he has come to you.” And he waved his hand, and out of his house walked those who had come for many days across the desert, and in their faces were smiles that asked if they would be welcome.

And when the people saw Pah-tō-qua they gave a ​great cry of surprise—over all the place could be heard that sound—for he was as like Lampayo as his own son could be, and he smiled with the smile of Lampayo—and when Lampayo saw the look in the faces about him he smiled more deeply than before.

“Did I not say, my people, that no stranger was here?” And the people nodded and pushed forward eagerly to see Pah-tō-qua and those who came with him. But louder than all the noise of the people was a cry that came from a little girl who stumbled up the last steps of the trail and ran forward with a look in her eyes that was so bright it almost hurt the hearts of those who saw it.

“MY MOTHER!” she cried. “My very own mother!” and Nah-tee threw herself into those arms that closed so eagerly about her, and into the eyes of Pah-tō-qua and those who stood near came stinging drops that they did not shame to show. And Nah-tee, for it was Nah-tee, was hugged and petted as she had never been before, and so many questions were asked that she grew dizzy with the answering of them. And when, after a little, the breath came back to her, a memory came, too, and she made a little grab for the place under her dress where still hung ​the buckskin bag that had been given her by the old man of the stone houses. And she told Lampayo all that had happened in that place and the things that the old man had said, and those who stood near listened to her words with eyes that grew ever bigger. And Lampayo, when he had seen what was in the little bag, was the most astonished of all.

“See how we are rich, Brother!” he cried. “Always I have wished for more money to get for my people those many things that they need—and now it shall be done.”

“Yes, we are rich,” answered Pah-tō-qua, but the look in his eyes was all for Nah-tee, and he put his arms close about her and squeezed her tight. “Yes, we are rich—for see how my little runaway Papoose has run back to me.”

And Nah-tee felt very rich, for, besides her mother and her father and her friends that she had found, something else made a warm, happy feeling come into her heart every time she thought of it, for on the trail, as they ran to the top, Chi-weé had said:

“I know now why I found that little baby burro—it is for you, Nah-tee. Already I have a pony and a goat, and you will like a baby burro—this baby burro—he has eyes that you will like.” And Nah-tee ​could not find words to thank her, but she knew very well that she would like the baby burro, and she liked Chi-weé and Loki, too, and the pueblo, and the big wide desert she could see from this high place. And Moyo had said that he would come back, sometime, when there were no sheep to keep; and the fat woman put her hands on her sides and laughed as she said:

“If you had not found your very own mother, I would have taken you to my own hogan. But now I think you have very many mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers, and you cannot run away again, for now the whole world is your home place.”

“Oh,” answered Nah-tee, and her eyes opened wide at the thought, “how that is a funny thing. One time there was a home place for me in the little hills—over there. And then the camp place in the desert was where my home was—and now—I think”—she spoke very slowly—“I think a little piece of my home is in everything that I like. Even in that baby burro—and in you,” she smiled at the fat woman, and then a twinkle came to her eyes, for far down the trail she could hear the “whack” of the fat man as eagerly he drove forward that lazy burro. “And in him, too,” she cried. “I think, like ​you say, that all the world is a home place, so how can I run away any more?” And she gave a little dancing step of joy.

“Yes,” said Chi-weé, “I know that, too—it is because—like me—you have a smile place inside. If you have that everywhere is home.”

Lampayo nodded, with a deep look in his eyes at the things they said.

“Always little heads are wiser than big ones,” he said, “and things like that the white man does not teach in schools. And now”—he threw back his head and pretended to sniff the air—“where are all those good things to eat that I can smell?”

And the answer to that was not in words at all!