The Runaway Papoose/Chapter 5

It was the wind that made that sound,” said Moyo. “It must have been the wind, for there is nothing else.”

“But do you think it was the wind that made that meat stew?” laughed Nah-tee. “There is a somebody in this cañon, and they do not want us to see them, or they would come out, but it is a good somebody to bring a good-to-eat stew like that.”

“Maybe it is a witch-woman and she is trying to make us into friends,” said Moyo. “A witch can fly on the wind, and this one flies to some place. But we must get down quickly to that cave place or we cannot see at all. The black dark is very nearly here.”

It was not an easy thing to scramble down the ​side of that rocky cliff in the deep shadows, and many times Moyo felt that they would fall, one or both of them, down into that stream that they could not now see. But they managed somehow to get down at last into the place that he had found. There was no wood in this cave place, it was little more than a hole hollowed out in the rocks by the wind, and the wind blew into it now with strange sounds as of whispering voices, and there was not a great deal of room, but it was better than being night out in the open on the side of the wall—“like spiders’’—as Nah-tee had said, and the two little children sat very close together and tried to keep each other warm.

“Oo—ooh!” said Nah-tee, and she shivered a little as she said it. “I did not know how it was warm with that blanket, and how good would the feel of it be now. I hope it is warm on that pony.”

“It is strange,” said Moyo, “that I also thought of the pony this very minute. He is a good pony, and I hope that he is safe.”

“I know how he is safe,” said Nah-tee. “Something tells me that he is safe, and we, too, are safe. Look how always when we have thought that only bad things could happen good ones have come. It is be​cause always the Great Spirit watches, and He watches now.”

“Do you think it is with the stars that He sees?” asked Moyo. Nah-tee leaned forward and looked up to the dark sky that was now so thick with stars that not anywhere could you put your finger in a place where there was not one. She did not answer immediately, but seemed to be thinking, and when she spoke it was very slowly, as if each word she spoke was a thought in itself.

“I think,” she said, “maybe it is with the stars that He sees, but they are the far-away eyes that He has for the ones who live in that far-away place. But there are other see places, very close ones, all around us in this place. He saw with those see places and brought us the stew, and now He sees and will help us in other help ways.”

“There are stars in the water down there,” said Moyo suddenly, “but they do not stay still like the sky stars—and look at that!” He stopped excitedly. They both had seen the flash of red light in the water that was larger than any star. But when they leaned as far out of the little cave as possible and looked back up the cañon wall they could see nothing there. And still there in the water it stayed—that dancing ​spot of red—not much more than a good stone’s throw from the place where they were. Nah-tee watched Moyo with a puzzled look on her face; she could not think what it meant—that dancing red light in the water—and she waited for the explanation from him.

“It is a camp fire,” he said at length quietly. “Somewhere up in that cañon wall there is another cave place, maybe like this one, and someone is there and has built a fire.”

“I wish very much we could go to that place,” said Nah-tee. “Always I grow more cold. Do you think that we could find it?” Moyo did not wait for her to say anything more than that. He, too, was cold and did not like the thought of staying all night in this windy place. So he stepped cautiously out of the little cave and began to feel his way across toward a spot that would be over the stream where the red, shiny place was. Nah-tee watched as closely as she could and leaned eagerly from the little cave ready to follow Moyo if he called to her. And in a little he did call.

“I can see the fire,” he called, but he tried to keep his voice low so that the sound would not go up to that other place. “I can see the fire, and it is a cave ​place, and I think we can reach it. Can you come the way that I have come?” Nah-tee already had started and joined him quickly where he stood clinging to the rock. From there the climb up to the glow of the fire was not difficult, and they found, as Moyo had thought, another little cave place. But this one was larger than the one they had left, and the front of it was away from the wind. A very cosy fire was snapping and sending up tiny sparks in this place, and two warm blankets were folded on the floor in its rosy glow, but there was no living one in that place. Moyo looked very blank when he realized that the place was empty except for themselves.

“And look at this,” cried Nah-tee. “See, I told you how that Great Spirit is watching,” and she held up a jar filled with some more of the very same meat stew they had already found so good, and there was more piki bread near it, and a black bottle filled with water.

“But where has he gone!” asked Moyo, and Nah-tee laughed at the look that was in his face.

“Maybe it is that he has gone to his own place,” she laughed. “I think this is a place that is fixed just for you and me—see, how there are two blankets.”

​“It is very strange,” said Moyo. “I do not see the reason why he does not stay until we give him thanks.”

“When the sun comes again,” said Nah-tee, “maybe we will see why—and surely when that time comes the water in the stream will go down.”

But the water had not gone down when the sun came again, and they did not yet see any living thing in the cañon.

“But he must be here,” said Moyo, “and not very far away, and I shall go that I may find him.” He felt very brave and strong after a comfortable night wrapped warm in a blanket and after a breakfast of meat and piki bread, and Nah-tee smiled at him and felt glad that he was brave.

“You must wait in this place until I make call for you,” said Moyo. “If the way is right so that you can come I will call, but if it is steep I will come back and tell you how it is so.” And there was something in him that felt very good to act this way as a man would act, and Nah-tee liked it, too, and tried to smile at him as she thought her mother would smile, and she waited again in the cave place until he should call to her. By this time it seemed that always she was waiting. She shook the blankets ​very carefully as soon as Moyo was gone, and folded them and took a little piece of brush that she found, and swept out the cave place and made it clean and neat about the fire, that was very low now. It was fun to pretend that this was a home place and that Moyo was a hunter who went out to find food. It was true that he had gone to find the one who brought the food, and that was even more exciting, for that seemed almost like a magic thing.

It was a very wonderful, sparkly day; the air was clear and cool and brought the smell of sage from the desert. It was the kind of a day when things happen, and Nah-tee felt the happy tingle of it come into her heart. She looked down at the water on the floor of the cañon, and very plainly it was lower, and sand was beginning to show again In spots—in big spots. Soon, very soon, they would be able to go out of this place, and then—so many things would happen then! It did not matter very greatly that they did not have a horse, thought Nah-tee, for surely they could not be far from that big mesa, and they were strong and could walk fast. And then her thoughts stopped suddenly, for echoing through the cañon came a call.

“OO—o—ee, Nah-tee!” came that call, and she ​stretched her neck out of the cave place to see where Moyo could be, but she could not see him at all. “Naaah-teeee!” came the call again, and she put one little foot out of the cave and found a place on the rock where she could stand, and then she began to find her way across, very cautiously, to where that voice came from.

Moyo was very greatly excited.

“It is a wonderful place that I have found,” he cried when she came near to where his voice called. “Look for the holes in the rock to put your hands and feet in and then climb up to here—now—they are in the place where you are now!” and Nah-tee looked and saw that there were deep holes in the rock made to give a safe hold for hands and feet, and she climbed up quickly and felt the hands of Moyo help her over the edge of a place, and then she blinked and felt that surely this must be a dream thing, for never had she seen a place like this. There was a very wide shelf of rock, flat and smooth, with over it a great, overhanging, slanting wall that made her dizzy to look at it, it was so high and big. And between the wall and the shelf was the thing that made her feel as if she must be dreaming—a whole pueblo built out of stone! Many houses were there,

​of many sizes and shapes, and in one place a great tower of white stone, tall and round. Everywhere were grinding stones, and the flat places for fire and cooking, and ovens and storage places—and it did not look like a place of dead people, it had the look of being swept clean; and Nah-tee felt that surely women were grinding somewhere in those white stone houses—but great clouds of black bats flew overhead and made the only sound that could be heard in that silent place.

“Maybe it is not good to come in a place like this,” said Nah-tee in a voice that was almost a whisper, for there was something here that would not let her talk loud.

“There is no one here,” said Moyo, and his voice, too, was strange as hers. “And there is nothing to fear—but come here and see this,” and he led her to a small round place where an opening showed that corn was stored—purple and red and yellow and blue ears—and in another place were some dried melons and squashes, and strings of chili peppers and pieces of meat hung up together—but not anywhere could they see any other sign that a living creature had been there for a very long time.

“Where do you think they have gone, those ones ​who built these places and who lived here one time?” asked Nah-tee.

“Even the old men do not know that,” answered Moyo. “The wise men say one place and then say another, but it is a thing from the very long ago, and no one can say for true.”

“I think,” said Nah-tee, ““maybe it is not a place at all—maybe if we shut our eyes and open them again quick, it will be gone.” But it did not go, even though they shut their eyes many times and opened them very quickly and felt very foolish when they did it.

“But it is better than the cave,” said Moyo in a little, “and we can stay here until the water goes away.”

“I think, maybe, the one who came with that stew stays in this place,” said Nah-tee suddenly. “Maybe if we call he will answer.” But he did not answer when they called—only the echoes came back from far across the canon, and the bats flew out—many more of them than before.

“We can look in the houses and see if anyone lives here,” said Moyo. “There will be blankets if they do.”

There were many houses all built together and ​facing toward the outside edge of the shelf of rock. Some were built on the very rock itself, and others on top of these, making two, and in some places three, stories, much like the houses Moyo had seen built in pueblos where he had gone with his father and mother. The houses were all made of stone laid very carefully and skillfully, and showed, in some places, where less skillful fingers had attempted to restore falling walls. There were one or two ladders still leading to upper stories, and Moyo climbed one of these very cautiously and looked with big eyes into an empty house, but he did not see any blankets or clothing in there, and he climbed down slowly again, looking closely at the ladder as he reached the bottom.

“That is a very old ladder,” he said. “I think if anyone went on it who was more heavy than I am it would break in pieces,” but Nah-tee was not listening. At the very back of the shelf of rock, under the overhanging wall, there was a place different from the other places—it was round and stones led up to the top of it like steps, and in the very top was a large round hole with the ends of a ladder sticking out of it. At one time—a very great while ago it seemed to Nah-tee—she had stood on the ​top of a kiva in her home place and she had looked down into that strange place (for little girls are never allowed to go into a kiva, it is a place of ceremony and of prayer), and had seen what looked like painted dolls and queer figures and pictures on the floor, and inside of her had come a desire, almost bigger than her very self, to go down into that place and see closely those wonderful things; but her mother had come and sent her home with scolding words, and never had she been allowed to go again that close to the kiva. And now here was a kiva—she felt very sure it was a kiva—and maybe down there were things such as she had dreamed were in the kiva place at home. And no one now to tell her not to go—even Moyo could not do that, for she would not wait until he could see where she went—and so with burning cheeks of excitement Nah-tee climbed to the top of that place and put her foot on the ladder. Moyo saw her just as her head went down out of sight, and at that very moment she gave a little startled cry, and Moyo came so quickly to the place that it seemed as if he had made one jump across all that place of houses. He sprang to the ladder, and before he knew what had happened had dropped down into a black hole that seemed to have ​no bottom and had stopped on something soft and springy.

“Ou—ow!” said a very small, smothered voice that seemed to be under him. “What is it that has happened?”

“I do not know,” answered Moyo, in a dazed voice. “Is there any hurt on you, Nah-tee?”

“I cannot find any hurt place,” answered Nah-tee, ‘‘but I cannot see—can you see, Moyo?”

“It is black—as—as the underside of the wing of a crow,” answered Moyo. He had picked himself up now and was feeling about in the darkness. He found Nah-tee, and she caught hold of his hand eagerly.

“Stand very still,” he said, “until I find what is in this place. There may be places to fall, if you move,” and he moved very cautiously himself and felt to see if there was a way out. After a little he knew that they were in a round room with a floor of stone, and there did not seem to be anything in the room at all but some brush that had fallen in from the opening above them.

“Why did you cry out!” he asked Nah-tee when he had come back to her again.

“I felt that the ladder was falling,” she said, ​“and when you came it fell into pieces—I have one piece in my hand.”

“Yes,” said Moyo, “I know well that it fell into pieces, and each piece too small for any use—I have tried them—and now we must think of a way to get out of this place. Ugh!” he shivered, “I do not like to be in a place where it is dark. I cannot think many things when it is dark.”

“I think it could be light,” said Nah-tee eagerly. “Did you forget, Moyo, that always you have your fire stick in the thong at your belt?”

Moyo felt that in the dark a flush came to his cheek, for he had forgotten that fire stick.

“We will clear a place on the floor,” he said then, in a voice that he tried to make sound very careless, “and I will take a little of this old wood, made very fine, and if you will hold another piece, Nah-tee, very soon we will have a torch.” And it was made very quickly—always Moyo made fire quickly with his fire stick—but to Nah-tee it was a very wonderful thing that he did, and when the bright flame blazed up it gave them a very different feeling, and they looked eagerly about the room in the light that it gave them. But they saw only what Moyo had already discovered in the darkness—bare, plain walls ​that slanted up to the circular opening at the top and gave no littlest hope of any chance for climbing out. Moyo looked up at that round hole overhead, and his eyes grew black with thought. If no one came, they were caught like two animals in a trap, and his heart thumped hard at the thought. It gave him a very bad feeling not to be able to do something, even if it were a foolish thing, but what could he do now? Nah-tee watched him. Always she thought, Moyo would think of a way. Not yet had fear come into her thought—she had very great faith in Moyo and also in the Great Spirit who always had helped. Moyo did not stand looking at that opening for long. He gave the torch into the hand of Nah-tee and started to make a pile of the brush on which they had fallen.

“I think,” he said, “when it is dark I will build a fire under that opening and we will feed it with the brush, and if anyone is in the cañon they will see it and come.”

“That one will come who brought the stew,” said Nah-tee eagerly. “What is that that you have found, Moyo!” For Moyo was sitting back on his heels looking with a puzzled expression at the place in the floor from where he had taken the brush.

​“Look!” he said. “There is a place in the floor that has not the look of the other part—it is wood!” he added, rapping it with his fingers.

“Oh,” cried Nah-tee, “maybe it is another kind of a door place—maybe we can get out that way!” Moyo leaned over and examined the place very carefully, and his heart began to beat quickly.

“I think that is what it is,” he said. “There is a place that looks as if it would come up, if we could push with something.”

“With a stick!” cried Nah-tee; “with a part of that ladder”; and even before she said it Moyo was prying at the edge of the wooden place with a stick from the broken ladder. But it would not move—it seemed to be a part of the very stone itself. “If you will hold this,” cried Nah-tee, and put the torch into his hand, “I will help, too.” And with both of her hands she pushed, and Moyo threw all his strength into the arm that did not hold the torch, and then, without any warning, the wooden place suddenly came up, and Moyo and Nah-tee went sprawling on the floor. It was very lucky that the torch fell where there was no brush, and Moyo snatched it up and looked with eager eyes at the place where the wooden part of the floor had been. It had lifted like a lid, and the two ​children looked down into a hole that was even blacker than the room in which they now were, and a ladder rested against a stone wall immediately below them in that hole.

“This time,” cried Moyo, “I will try the ladder very carefully before we step on it, and we will go one at a time, and I will go first.”

“Oh, go fast!” cried Nah-tee, and she was dancing in excitement on the edge of that hole. “I cannot wait to see where that place goes.”

“If it does not go to the outside,” said Moyo, “it will not help us much.”

“It will go somewhere,” said Nah-tee, “and that is better than waiting here.” Moyo had felt the rungs of the ladder very cautiously first with one foot and then with both and now he tried putting all his weight on it, and it seemed as strong as any ladder could be. He leaned forward with the torch and looked down as far as possible before he climbed down himself.

“What is it?” cried Nah-tee. “What do you see—does it go to the outside?”

Moyo was silent for a moment while he gave a quick look around, and then he held the torch up so that she could see to come down, too.

​“Come carefully,” he said. “To me it looks only like another room, but there are things here.”

Nah-tee came eagerly down the ladder, and then they both stood motionless, looking at the things they could see in the bright light of the torch.

“It is a kiva,” said Nah-tee, drawing a long breath—and there was a shrine place such as she had heard described many times, with painted figures and the little plumed prayer sticks, and the bowls of sacred meal and pollen on the altar; and there were blue, shining stones—sky stones—many of them, gleaming softly on the altar. They gave back the light of the torch like bits of the sky outside. Moyo reached down and touched a bright prayer feather, and strangely enough it went into a puff of dust at his touch. Nah-tee opened her eyes very wide and leaned down and touched another one, and like a dream thing it vanished.

“Why do they do that?” she asked in a whisper of Moyo, and she stepped forward and touched a small ceremonial scarf that lay on the very altar itself—and as she touched it only little piles of dust were left where her fingers had gone. She drew back quickly and stood close to Moyo.

​“It is magic in this place,” she said. “Let us find away to go out.”

But they could not find a way that led out. This room was much smaller than the one above, and there was no wooden place in the floor.

“I do not know why a shrine place should be so far down,” said Moyo, “but I cannot find any way that goes out.” He walked carefully all around the room, touching the wall in many places, and even back of the altar he felt with his hand, but no stones were loose, as he had hoped they might be, and it was clear now that the only way out of this place was back up the ladder the way they had come. And always, as they thought of it, it seemed more strange that everything that was touched turned to dust, everything but the pottery bowls and the blue sky stones on the altar. At first Moyo did not touch those stones, but something in a little while made him take some of them in his hand, and they glowed there softly and seemed almost alive in that place of dust and dead things.

“Look how they are blue, like the sky,” he said to Nah-tee, and held them out in his hand for her to see. “My people say they are very fine, stones like ​these, and the trader will give many things for them.”

“Put them back,” said Nah-tee quickly. “Put them back, Moyo—it is very bad to touch things in a shrine place.”

“But maybe no one will ever come to this place,” said Moyo, and as he said it a queer look came to his face. “If no one comes, I could not take them away, for I could not get away myself—and if someone does come maybe they would not like it if I took them,” and he put them very carefully back in the place where he had found them. “There is no new way to get out of this place,” he said then. “Come—we will go back, and maybe someone will come.” And they went slowly back up the ladder, but as they reached the top a sudden thought came to Moyo and he gave a shout of delight.

“Hi!” he cried. “Take this!” and again he thrust the torch into the hand of Nah-tee—though now they could see a little bit in this upper room—it seemed almost a light place after the other one. “Watch, now, what I will do!” and he reached down and, with very much hard work, for it was heavy, pulled up the ladder from below; and after he had put the wooden place again in the floor, he held up ​the ladder below the round opening in the roof. But it did not reach up to that opening—it did not reach near it at all. Nah-tee had watched him eagerly.

“If you will hold it,” she cried, “I will climb up and reach that place.” But that did not help either. Moyo could hold it while she climbed part of the way up, but when she got near the top he could not hold it, and very nearly she fell. Twice they tried it, and both times it was the same.

“It is no use,” said Moyo, and there was a weariness in his voice. “If someone comes we will call and they will let us out—and if no one comes—we will not get out.”

“If we could see the little star brothers,” said Nah-tee, in a little while, “I think that would help.”

“It is not yet night,” said Moyo, “and besides—you have said—they are very far away.” Nah-tee came close to him and put her cheek against his arm.

“I am glad how you are brave, Moyo,” she said, and looked up into his face. “Never have I seen a boy brave like you.” And Moyo looked hard for a little while at that round hole in the roof, and then he squared his shoulders again and put fire to a fresh torch.

​“It is not a bad thing to wait,” he said in a very different voice. “We will make a little fire and wait, and someone will see the glow of it and come.” And Nah-tee looked at him with a shine in her eyes. And for a long time there was the sound only of the crackling of the little fire. And after a while—after a very long while—there was a sound outside—like the soft shuffle made by the feet of one who climbed on rock.