The Runaway Papoose/Chapter 2

When she got down off the back of the horse Nah-tee felt very trembly and queer. Her legs did not want to stand up, and she sat down quickly on a big rock. The two boys looked at her, but they did not laugh and she was glad of that. She did not think it was a laugh thing to be lost and to have chaky legs. But very quickly she had other things to think about, for the new boy—Moyo said he was called Tashi—was talking to Moyo in a voice that showed he was greatly excited, and the words that he said stumbled over one another so that Nah-tee had to listen very carefully to understand—but she ​did listen, for she thought it might be about her people that he spoke.

“A man came,” he said to Moyo, “while you were gone a man came. He rode on a burro with many bundles on top, and he was fat, and he asked for a drink of goat’s milk. Then he spoke of the man from the white teaching place—where they teach Indians to be like white people.”

“I know,” said Moyo, and he made his mouth tight. “I know that place.”

“He said,” went on the other, “he said the white man is looking for Indian children—all the Indian children there are, and he will take them to the place away from their own people—oh, very far away—and when they come back, in many years, maybe, they will look like white people and talk like white people, and this white man says he can make them all to go.”

“Me he cannot make to go!” cried Nah-tee. “I do not want to be like white people—then my father and my mother would not know it was me!”

Moyo looked at her quickly, but his eyes did not see her, he was looking far away with thought in his eyes.

“I want to be Indian always,” he said slowly. “I ​want to be like my father—he is very good, and he is Indian.”

“But what can we do!” asked Tashi. “The white man will come—this man says that he will come very soon—and always the Indian must do what the white man says.”

““There are very many places we can go,” answered Moyo. “Near here are hills and cañons and cave places—the white men do not know about those places—we will go there.”

“There is to be a big dance on the high mesa,” spoke Tashi again in a very different voice. “All the Indians everywhere are going to that dance—the man on the burro was going—it will last for many days, and there will be good things to eat. I think, maybe, all the Indians in the world will be there.”

Nah-tee forgot the trembly feeling in her legs and jumped up from the rock where she had been sitting.

“Maybe it is there that my people have gone,” she cried. “Maybe they have traveled all this time to be at that dance. Will you take me to that place, Moyo? Will you take me now?”

Moyo looked at her doubtfully.

“Maybe that is true,” he said, but he spoke very ​slowly, “but that big mesa is a very far place—never have I been there, and I cannot leave the sheep for so great a time.”

The face of Nah-tee turned very sad again, and she looked down at the ground not to show the tears that had come suddenly to her eyes, but the other boy spoke quickly.

“I will put my sheep with yours,” he said to Moyo, “and there are goats and dogs to keep the coyotes away. I will stay with the sheep and you can go—it is not well for a little papoose to be so great a time away from her mother.”

“Oh,” cried Nah-tee, “how you are nice. And now—will you go, Moyo—will you take me to that big mesa?”

“But yet it is far,” answered Moyo, “and the way is strange to me, but maybe we can find it. Never have I seen a dance big like that dance will be.”

“Then we will go now!” cried Nah-tee, and she jumped up and down in excitement. “Now I will find my own people, and we will ride again on that pony!”

“Yes,” said Moyo, “we will go now, and we will ride on that pony, but we must have food to eat and a blanket for you to sleep on—it is a very ​great way to that mesa—I think you do not know how it is far.”

But the far part did not worry Nah-tee, not even a little bit, for a very long time she had traveled over the desert, and it was a thing she knew well; and all the fear thoughts had gone now, for she felt very sure that she would find the home people on that high mesa, and there was all the excitement of long rides on that pony before her and of new things to see, and the dance with the many exciting things at the end of the journey. Her eyes sparkled at the thought of it, and then a new thought came.

“Do you think that white man will be there?” she asked suddenly. “Did he ride to the mesa, Tashi?” But Tashi shook his head very positively.

“No, the fat one said that he went to the Trading Post—I think he will not go to the mesa this time—he was going the other way. I think this time you will not see him if you go to the mesa.”

“That is good,” said Moyo, and he breathed with relief. “Look, I have here food—goat’s meat and piki bread, and we will take water in a bottle. Now I am ready. See, I have tied the blanket about my pony. It will be more soft for you to ride that way, and you will have it for the night. Come, Nah-tee,” ​and then he swung her high in the air as before—he was very strong—and again they were flying over the desert, and it seemed to Nah-tee that the little hoofs of the pony hardly touched the ground. They flew past the sheep in no time at all, and left Tashi, grinning, far behind in a flash. And then it seemed that in all that great desert only they were alive—nothing else moved—except the high trail of dust that danced behind them and the little sticks and stones that flicked from the pony’s feet. But it was not the sort of loneliness that mattered—it was not the sort that Nah-tee had felt when she was high in her tree in the night—this was a jolly loneliness—it was a sparkly daytime loneliness, and there wasn’t a single fear thought hiding away anywhere. Somehow, there was a smile in everything. The little leaves and cones on the trees seemed to wave to Nah-tee as she passed, and she could catch glimpses, every once in a while, of the white stumpy tail of a little hare as it dodged under the sage, and the air was very good with a smell of pine and sage in it that blew down from the far-away hills. And always in the ears of Nah-tee was the whisper of good things to come—exciting things.

She bounced up and down on the pony—not yet ​had she learned to ride very well—but Moyo turned and smiled at her when she bounced, and he told her how to hold tight to the strong jacket that he wore, and not once did she fear that she would fall.

When they had ridden for a little way with no noise but the thud of the pony’s feet on the hard earth, another sound came to them from the trail ahead, and Moyo laughed as he heard it.

“WHACK!” came that sound from ahead, and then it was followed by words in a high shrill voice: “Ai—ee, but thou art lazy! On, on—or never will we reach that place!” and then, “WHACK!” came the sound again, and it did not need more words to tell to Moyo and Nah-tee that the fat man who had stopped at their camp place was very close ahead. And over a little rise they came upon him riding very slowly in a cloud of dust, and the look on his face was not a happy look. He was a very fat man, and looked to be much larger than the very small, very fuzzy burro on which he was riding, and besides himself there were bundles of wood and sacks of things piled high on the back of the little animal. Nah-tee made a little pity sound with her mouth when she saw him, and Moyo said, very low so that only she could hear:

​“It is not a strange thing that the burro will not go—I, myself, would not carry so great a load. And look how fat and lazy is the man. Maybe he would not be so fat if he could be that burro for a little while.” When they came close to him the man called out to Moyo:

“How is it that you can make your pony to go with two that ride him and this lazy creature will not go with only one on his back?”

Moyo made his pony to stand still and looked for a moment at the man, and Nah-tee could not understand the look that was in his eyes—he did not smile, but there was a twinkle somewhere that Nah-tee could feel, and she watched very closely to see what he would do.

“I can make that burro to go,” he said then, very slowly, to the man, “I have a secret way that will make him to go—if you would like.”

“What is that?” asked the man quickly, and he looked up at Moyo with eyes very wide and round. “Surely I would like him to go—tell me that secret way.”

Moyo jumped down from his pony and walked over to the man.

“You must get down and hold the rope while I ​speak to him,” he said. The man dropped his mouth open when Moyo said that, and almost it seemed as if his eyes would pop out of their places in his head.

“You would speak,” he said, and the words would not come easily. “You would speak to him—to that burro?”

Moyo only nodded to that, and Nah-tee was almost as surprised as was the man, but Moyo only waited a little impatiently for the man to get down, which he did in a moment, but as if he moved in a dream, and not once did he take his eyes from the eyes of Moyo. The burro stood on three legs now, as if he were going to sleep. His head and his ears drooped toward the ground, and his eyes were half-closed, but Moyo walked to him and lifted one ear very carefully and whispered to him words that the others could not hear, but like magic came the change in that burro. Up came his head with a quick jerk that almost pulled the rope out of the hand of his master, and his eyes opened very wide with a look of surprise and alarm and one ear shot up and the other one down, and then—in stiff-legged, quick jumps he was off down the road—jerking the fat man almost off his feet at the very start, but making him take queer, long steps that finally broke into a fast, ​jumpy run to keep up at all. He was too out of breath, that fat man, right away, to say anything at all but, “HI—HI—!” and he could not let go of the rope, he was going too fast—so fast that if he did let go he would fall flat in the dust—but to hold on he had to run faster and faster to keep up with that burro, who was now going like a wild thing over the dusty trail. Nah-tee could hardly believe the thing that she saw, and she called out to Moyo:

“He will fall—that man. Look, how he cannot run like that.”

“He will not fall,” answered Moyo with a wide grin on his face, “and it is very good for him to run fast, he will not be so fat.”

“But how did you make that burro to go like that?” and Nah-tee looked at Moyo as if she saw him now for the first time. “It is a magic—a thing like that.”

Moyo pushed a little stick with the toe of his shoe and did not look up at Nah-tee.

“It is not magic,” he answered, but he did not say more than that. And the burro and the fat man were altogether out of sight now, but back on the trail very faintly came that voice raised high in protest:

​“HI—HI—ai—ee!”

“Why did he go, if it was not a magic thing?” asked Nah-tee, and Moyo looked up at her with the twinkle very plain now in his eyes.

“Maybe it is magic,” he said this time, “but it was only a little bur that I put in his ear.”

“Oh,” cried Nah-tee, “it will hurt him.”

“No,” answered Moyo, “it will not hurt him at all, it will only tickle him. Right now I think he is laughing in burro talk, and he is very glad to have that fat man off his back. The bur will come out easily when he stops and rubs his ear against a tree, and the fat man will feel good for the run. He will reach the place where he is going more quickly, and he will not be so lazy, maybe, another time.”

A little smile came into the eyes of Nah-tee then as she thought of the look she had seen on the face of that fat man when the burro pulled him, jumping, down the trail.

“Look, how everything is running,” she cried suddenly to Moyo as some little rabbits dodged into the sage not very far away. And Moyo just as suddenly grew very grave.

“I saw a coyote, too, a little while ago,” he said, and looked up at the sky with a little troubled frown ​on his face. “The wind is very strange,” he said. “And look at those queer clouds—we must get somewhere that is safe. There will be a storm soon, and a very bad storm. I have been taught the ways of the desert, and see how all the desert animals are running for shelter.”

The wind was coming in queer, short puffs now—a warm puff and then one that was cold as ice—and far away a sort of sighing sound seemed to come from the very sky, and sand blew in their faces with a sharp stinging feeling. Moyo climbed up on the pony and turned his head away from the wind.

“We will find a place to stay,” he cried above the noise of the wind, “until the storm is gone—over there.” And he pointed to high, rocky walls far to one side of the way they had been going. “We will find cave places that will be safe and dry.” And he made the pony go very fast again. Just back of them the raindrops began to fall, and the sky grew very dark with a yellow color. The wind was steadily cold now, and did not blow in puffs, and the sound of thunder came from far away but was growing steadily nearer.

“We will go fast,” cried Moyo again, and he had to shout very loud to make his voice heard above ​the howling of the wind, “and maybe we can keep away from the storm.” And he kicked the pony with his heels and called to him and they went so fast that Nah-tee closed her eyes tight to keep from growing dizzy. But it was very exciting. The rain was falling in a steady sheet now just behind them, but always they kept a little way ahead of it and they were yet completely dry.

“Hi—yi!” cried Moyo as they flew along. “Now we do not belong to the ground—look how we are a part of the storm. We are the little brothers of the wind, and we can go just as fast as he can.” And a great boom of thunder almost drowned his words. Dust and leaves swirled about them, and tumbleweeds flew past in great round balls only to pile up in big heaps when they came to rocks or trees they could not pass. On—on they flew—just ahead of the storm—and now the walls of rock they had seen in the distance were growing ever nearer.

“We did not pass that fat man,” shouted Nah-tee to Moyo. “Where do you think he has gone?”

“We do not go the trail that he has gone,” said Moyo. “We do not go that trail now—now we go to find a cave place that will keep us from the wet of the storm. When that is gone we will find the trail

​again that leads to the big mesa.” And just then the first drops of rain caught up with them. Moyo shouted more loudly to the pony and slapped him with his hands, but he could not go more quickly than he was going, and with a louder howl than any that had gone before, the storm swirled around them, and they felt now very truly that they were a part of it. The noise was loud, and they could hardly see at all for the dark and the water that was dashed into their eyes, and the thunder crashed and boomed so loudly that it seemed the very skies were falling. Soon Nah-tee could just barely see great walls of blacker dark about them, and she knew that they were riding into a cañon. Moyo held his hand to his eyes to keep the rain out and looked carefully for a place of shelter, but not yet did they come to one. Many times they came right up to places that seemed to be the end of the cañon, great walls of rock, but always there was an open place through which they could go, and another big cañon, just like the one through which they had come, stretched out ahead. The brave little pony did not falter once, but pushed on as fast as he could go and answered to every guiding touch from Moyo. It seemed to Nah-tee that for a very long time they rode blindly without seeing ​where they were going, and she was growing cold as ice and very wet and uncomfortable when Moyo gave a shout that showed he had seen something, and he turned the pony and led him up to one of the stone walls and called to Nah-tee to climb down.

“It is very easy to get to that place,” he cried to her. “See, there is a big cave place up there.” And Nah-tee saw, opening deep into the rock, a cave place that looked very black and big in this dim light. It was not hard to climb up, there was a long, rough slant of rock that led right to the open side of the cave; and when they had hobbled the pony under a slanting wall of rock where he was protected from the storm, they climbed quickly up. But they were breathless and not quite so cold when they reached the top. It seemed to be a large cave that went back into the rocky wall of the cañon itself, and below it was a ledge of rock like a little shelf where a sentinel could stand. They could not see how far back into the rock the cave went, for it was dark as the blackest night in there, but they quickly did see things out on the shelf of rock; and just in the opening, where it was not dark, it looked as if other people ​shape. And it was dry on the inside of this place, and the cold wind did not come in; and better than all of these things, there were many dry sticks lying on the rocky floor.

“OOH! How I am cold!” cried Nah-tee. “Now we can have a fire and get warm and dry.”

Moyo leaned over and picked up one of the sticks quickly, and then he did a very queer thing. He did not make a great pile of them, as Nah-tee thought he would, but he looked very carefully at the stick and picked up another and looked at that in the same strange way. Then he called in a low voice to Nah-tee:

“Do not move—wait for a moment in that place”; and then he leaned down and took a step forward and looked for a long time—it seemed a great while to Nah-tee—into the black dark of the back of the cave. Then he threw one of the sticks as far back into the shadows as he could and looked and seemed to be listening—but nothing at all happened, and he drew a deep breath and stood up.

“What is it?” cried Nah-tee. “What have you seen?”

“Nothing,” answered Moyo, but he did not look at Nah-tee. “There is nothing in the cave, and we will build a fire quickly.” He found many pieces of ​wood that were dry, and he took a very short time to pile them into a neat heap; and then he made a fire with the fire stick that he carried always in a fold of the cloth at his waist. To Nah-tee it was always a magic thing to see the whirling fire stick and the first little sparks that seemed to come from nowhere at all. And very quickly the flames were crackling and leaping in the very way they did in the camp fire at the home place, and Nah-tee held her little cold hands to the cheery blaze and watched the warm light creep farther and farther back into the strange corners of the cave—and Moyo, too, watched those shadows creeping back into the darkest parts of the cave, and he looked very often over the edge of the little rocky shelf down into the cañon below.

“We must gather more wood for the fire,” he said in a little while, “and we must make pieces for torches. But now we will have supper. We are very safe while the fire burns high.”

“Oh, yes,” laughed Nah-tee, for the fire had made a happy feeling come into her heart, and now she was getting dry again. “Oh, yes, the fire will keep us safe and warm from all the storm.” Moyo looked at her a little strangely, but he did not speak then. ​And happier and happier grew that feeling in the heart of Nah-tee, especially when Moyo put some of the goat meat on a sharp stick and frizzled it over the fire and they ate a supper that tasted all the better for the howling of the storm outside.

And then, even more suddenly than it had begun, the wind died down and the rain stopped and the sky began to grow lighter, until the sun sent shining streamers that touched with red gold the rocks high on the cañon wall; for it was late in the day, and very soon the gold went away and only the pink of the afterglow remained, and that, too, faded quickly, and almost before they knew it, night had come. Nah-tee folded her arms over her knees and watched the fire with a great content.

“I am glad we have come,” she said. “This is a nice camp place for this night, and when day comes we will go to the big mesa.”

“We will start to go to the big mesa when day comes,” answered Moyo, “but not for very long will we get there—I told you how it is far.”

A sharp sound came from down in the cañon, a clatter as of hoofs on rock.

“It is the pony,” cried Moyo, and jumped to his feet in an instant, snatching a blazing piece of tree ​branch from the fire. A cold feeling ran down the back of Nah-tee, and she, too, jumped to her feet and stood listening, uncertain just what to do.

“Stay here,” said Moyo quickly. “Do not move from this fire—I will come back”; and he ran quickly down the slant of rock that led to the cañon floor waving high in the air the blazing torch that he carried. Nah-tee held her breath and listened, and quickly she heard the voice of Moyo speaking words of quiet to the pony, and then in a little he came back up the rocky way leading the pony by a rope—it did not take long to get him up.

“He will be better here,” said Moyo, and tied the rope of the pony around a large rock so that he could not get away. Nah-tee watched him with big eyes.

“What is it, Moyo?” she asked then, and she was almost breathless, as if she had been running.

“It is nothing,” answered Moyo in a voice that he tried to make sound as it usually did, but a very little it trembled, and Nah-tee could hear the tremble. “I think maybe there are coyotes down there, but the fire will frighten them away,” he said, and a great relief came to Nah-tee when he raid that, for she had no fear of coyotes—but it was ​not coyotes that Moyo feared were in the cañon. When first he had come to the cave place he had seen the things that Nah-tee thought were little sticks—but he knew they were not little sticks—they were pieces of bone that some animal had left, and they were not very old, some of them—and coyotes did not live in caves like this—it was mountain lions that Moyo listened for. He knew they often lived in cañons just like this one, and any moment he expected to see their green eyes glaring at him from the dark or to hear the quiet night made fearful by their cry. But Nah-tee must not know this—girls did not have to know such things when others stronger than themselves were there to protect them. And, besides, mountain lions were great cowards and would not come near to the light of a fire. So Moyo gathered many sticks in a pile on the rocky shelf and was very glad that some strong wind had blown them down into the cañon from the trees that grew above. And Nah-tee watched him with a little troubled doubt in her eyes, but already the fire and the supper had made her drowsy, and it was not long before she lay down on the blanket, now warm and dry, and went fast asleep. But Moyo did not sleep—not for a very long time—and not then did he ​think he slept! But after a while the fire seemed, somehow, to be the flicker of his own fire at home, and the crackly sound of the blaze faded into the rhythmic sound of his mother grinding corn—and Moyo was dreaming—and only the fire kept watch.