The Runaway Papoose/Chapter 7

I will tell of a thing that happened out there in the desert,” began the old man, “that was before the days when I knew of this cañon place. Out there the spaces are wide and the trails do not go up and down on cañon walls but away out to the edge of the sky and beyond. But the very first part of it began in that pueblo built high on the rocky mesa—that pueblo where you go, maybe to-morrow (INah-tee wriggled when he said that). It is a very old pueblo that has looked out over the desert of many colors for ages and more ages. This day that I shall tell about, the sunshine danced down on that pueblo as it did for most of the days of the year, and made yellow places where it was warm for the children to play in, and blue patches of shade for the lazy little ​dogs to dream in—always there are dogs where there is a pueblo! Chili peppers, red and good to eat, hung by the doorways of the stone houses, and women knelt on the flat roofs spreading the bright-colored corn and fruit to dry, and from the inside you could hear (Ai-ee, but I can hear it now!) rising and falling the high song of those who ground corn for piki bread.”

“My mother does that,” said Nah-tee eagerly, and the old man nodded with a smile.

“Always they grind corn, those mothers, for piki bread. And in the streets are always the laughing and cries of children at play. Away up at one end of the town was a house that stood by itself, apart from the others, the house of the medicine man. He was a good old man, that medicine man, with bright, dark eyes and snow-white hair, and a face all brown and wrinkled like the shell of a walnut—and like mine,” smiled the old man. “Many people came to this old man for advice and for the words of wisdom that he gave—and he was also the keeper of the sacred eagle. I think, maybe, you know about that thing—that many tribes have a sacred eagle. He carries prayers to the gods who live in the Up-above coun​try, the other side of the clouds, and he is trained to fly away to great distances and sometimes stays all day, but always he comes back to the place that is prepared for him on the roof of the house of the medicine man.

“There was a boy who lived in this mesa town—I will not tell you by what name he was called—I will let that be a guess thing—but a very big head of black hair had this boy, and two black eyes as round as the smoke hole in the kiva. And always he was getting into mischief and out again, but it is a true thing that always there was a smile for him on every face, and his mother loved him very much.” The old man stopped for a moment and a smile came to his lips as he looked into the fire. “We will say”—and he gave a sudden chuckle—“we will say that his name was called—Moyo!” and Moyo felt a tingle of red come to his ears, but he did not speak. “Ah, well,” went on the old man, “Moyo was a very good friend of this old medicine man and also he was a friend of the eagle—ever since he had been a very small eaglet he had come and petted the sacred eagle and brought to him choice bits of food, and when he flew over the desert Moyo had a peculiar little cry ​he would call to him, and the eagle would hear it and make great circles in the air and then drop down at his feet for the good thing to eat Moyo always gave to him when he called. The old medicine man smiled at this friendship between the boy and the eagle, and he would pat the head of Moyo and say:

“‘The messenger to the gods is own messenger to our Moyo, it is little wonder that he is a very happy little boy—maybe the gods send to him messages that we others do not get.’ And Moyo did not understand in the very least what he meant, but it did give him a very great happiness to have the eagle for a friend. And now we come to the time when a strange thing happened to Moyo. When he waked up in the morning it had been just like other days. There was the sun, shining and sparkling as it always did, and outside the children laughing at the things that sparkled in the rays of yellow sunlight, and his mother grinding corn, softly, as almost always she ground it, and all the other sounds that were of every day; but this was not like every day—you shall see! After a while, when he had finished the little tasks that even a boy must do every morning, Moyo took his bow and arrows and ran down to the foot of the mesa—down the long trail at the side of the

​big rock—down to the very edge of the desert itself—the desert that was always so full of interesting things to see and to do. Always Moyo loved to go down to the foot of the mesa trail, because he could look out into the desert from there and plan things. There were animals to trail in the desert—little rabbits and coyotes and horned toads—and there were always new things to see and new smells coming in on the wind—smells that told of sage and mesquite and distant camp fires. And there were dreams to dream—of that day when he would be a great warrior or a hunter or, maybe, a medicine man who knew of great magic. And then, too, there were friends in the desert who came sometimes to play—and one was Kee-gi, who lived always in the desert and cared for the sheep of his father. Kee-gi was there at the foot of the mesa trail this day, and Moyo saw him before he got all the way down—and that told him that this was not like other days, for not often could Kee-gi come, and Moyo shouted with joy when he saw him.

“‘I have no sheep to-day!’ shouted Kee-gi, as soon as Moyo was near enough to hear him. ‘My sheep have been sold, and all day I can do what I like—maybe hunt rabbits or do the thing that you would like.’

​“‘I know what that would be,’ cried Moyo, and his eyes flashed in great excitement. ‘For a long time I have thought how it would be good to do that—and see if you do not think so, too. It is a big thing that I would like to do—a real hunter thing,’ and he pointed to where across the desert, misty blue, a butte rose from the dusty sage and was outlined sharply against the sky. ‘Look, that place—I would like to go there.’

“Kee-gi frowned a little as he looked, and he shook his head. Kee-gi was a little older than Moyo, and he liked to pretend to be very wise.

“‘That is a very far place,’ he said slowly, ‘and they say there is no way to get up to the top.’

“‘Yes, there is a way,’ cried Moyo quickly. ‘Cholo has said there is a way—and not very big hunters, like us, can very easily get up; and there are things on the top—maybe deer and other things.’

“‘Cholo!’ said Kee-gi. ‘Cholo does not know things—he is not very old—and besides, do you know the name of that place? It is called the place of the witch. That is very bad.’

“‘I have no fear of a name,’ said Moyo, and a little red came into his cheeks now. ‘Witches are not a thing that hunters are afraid of. I do not think there is a thing like witches at all. Always I have ​wanted to go to that place and see if there are deer there, and if there is a witch—look how I have this bow and arrows. Have you fear to go, Kee-gi?’

“A little red came now into the face of Kee-gi when Moyo said that, but he shook his head quickly.

“‘Not ever have I fear of witches,’ he said a little angrily, ‘but we will need food for a trip like that, and maybe your mother will say no.’ Already Moyo had started back up the trail.

“‘I will get food,’ he cried. ‘You wait in this place and I will come back quickly. I will say to my mother only that we go to play a little way in the desert.’ For Moyo knew well that his mother would not let him go to that far-away place. Not yet was he very big, and always she made him give promise to stay near the home place and to come back to her before the night. But this time—just this one time—he would not do that. ‘If I tell her she will not let me go,’ he said in his heart, ‘and it is good for me to learn how to be a hunter.’ But he did not feel right when he thought that. He had been taught always to mind, and he knew that bad things come almost always to those who do not mind. Maybe the day would have been a very different one if he had minded, but this one time he did not—and ​he made a little bundle of food to eat—piki bread and dried apricots and pinyon nuts—and he knew that Kee-gi would bring a little bottle of water with a loop of thong to hold it by. ‘I will be back before the black dark,’ he said to his mother when she smiled at him over her grinding, and that was all he said, and the feeling inside him was more uncomfortable than before, and he went very fast down the trail and did not look back once.

“Kee-gi had brought two ponies: his, that was kept in a corral near the foot of the mesa, and Kee-gi’s own that he had brought with him, and he was holding them by two ropes at the foot of the trail, and when he saw them Moyo forgot every feeling but just the ones of joy and excitement for the good time that was here, and by the time they had climbed to the backs of the ponies and were flying over the desert Kee-gi, too, was shouting with happiness, and his eyes were like stars.

“Hi! How they flew through the sage and the sand! Sending scurrying the little hares and the lizards and making the stones click under the feet of the ponies. How the dust flew into clouds as they passed, and the pinyon trees rattled their cones in the wind of their going! How the heart of Moyo beat ​in time to the pounding of hoofs and the red in his cheeks grew to be brighter than that of the chili peppers drying at home!

“Kee-gi could not keep quiet on a ride like this, but shouted and laughed as his pony ran.

“‘Are you glad now, Kee-gi,’ cried Moyo, ‘are you glad now, we are going to that place?’

“‘I think I could go all the way to the moon,’ he shouted back to Moyo. ‘Anywhere I could go like this—and when I reached that anywhere place I would not stop!’ Moyo laughed, for he felt just as Kee-gi felt. And on and on they went over the shining desert. Down sandy washes and up again, over hilly places where the ground was rough and rocky—and around sharp rocks that rose in their path. There was no trail where they rode, but that did not matter in a country where there were no rivers, for there was never anything that could turn them for long from the ‘see’ trail that was theirs, for there was that strange-looking butte always ahead of them. And for a very long time it did not seem to grow any nearer at all; and then, almost suddenly, it was close at hand, and they could see other sharp rocks standing out near it and almost reaching to its top.

“‘Oo—oh!’ shouted Moyo as they drew near, and ​he shivered a very little bit, ‘but it is big—and maybe those queer things that are on the top are bears, not deer!’

“‘Ah—ha!’ cried Kee-gi, and he was grinning now with a shiny look in his eyes. ‘Now, have you those fear thoughts, when we come close and see how it is big?’ Moyo gave a quick little sound in his throat.

“‘Not ever have I fear thoughts,’ he answered bravely, but his eyes grew big as he looked at the great rock with its flat top ’way up there near the sky. They tied the ponies to a big mesquite and then began to walk slowly around the rock searching for a way to get up. The more they looked the more the face of Kee-gi grew grave.

“‘I think it is a too big place for a boy not as big as me to climb up,’ he said at last. ‘Big boys can climb big rocks, but little boys get hurt places.’

“‘I will go up this place if you go,’ said Moyo at the words of Kee-gi, and he said it in a voice that Kee-gi knew well—it was a voice that showed he felt anger, and when he spoke like that Kee-gi did not try ever to change what he said. ‘I am not a little boy—and I can fight you if you like—I am not little at all.’ And Moyo did not show that he felt a smile ​come inside him—he looked up at the top of the rock again, and then he shook his head slowly.

“‘Then I will not go up,’ he said. ‘We will not either one go. Look how there is a little cañon near here where it is cool—we will eat here and look for berries, and then we will ride back to the mesa.’

“But then, at that very moment, Moyo, who had forgotten that he had been angry, called out to Kee-gi and pointed with his finger.

“‘Look, Kee-gi—there is a way that goes up, and see how it is easy to climb.’ Kee-gi looked, and there did seem to be a trail that led to the top. So they both forgot very quickly any thought of going back and began to pick their way up over rocks that led up through what seemed to be a great crack in the big rock itself. For a while they climbed without speaking at all, and there was only the scratching noise that their moccasins made on the rocks, and the little panting sound of their breathing, for the way was very steep, and they were soon out of breath. But when they were about half the way up Kee-gi called out suddenly and threw out his arm to Moyo.

“‘Jump! he cried. ‘Jump up quickly and catch ​hold of that bush up there—the rock under my feet is moving!’ As quickly as he said the words Moyo jumped, and Kee-gi also sprang forward, catching hold of the bush he had seen and pushing Moyo up to a place that was safe. And as they jumped the rock that had been under their feet moved and dropped down, and with a noise like thunder crashed down the trail the way they had come with a shower of smaller stones and dust following after it. The face of Kee-gi was very pale as Moyo looked at him, and he was shaking all over.

“‘Quick! he said to Moyo again in a strange voice. ‘Get to the top very quickly. Other rocks might fall like that one.’ And like two little animals they scrambled to the top of the rock and lay there for a moment to get their breath. Moyo was the first to look around.

“‘Oh,’ he cried, ‘Cholo was not right. I think there is nothing else in this place that is alive but us. There is only a stone house,’ and it was with great disappointment that he said it. ‘And if there were deer I could not get them—my bow and arrows went down on that place in the trail when it fell.’ But Kee-gi did not look up with any interest when Moyo spoke; there was still that strange look in his ​eyes that had come when the rock on the trail crashed away from where it had been, and Moyo saw it.

“‘What is it, Kee-gi, why do you look that way?’ he cried, and then he took hold of Kee-gi’s arm and gave him a little shake. ‘Have you a hurt place, Kee-gi?’ he asked him then. ‘Why do you not make answer?’

“‘It is only,’ said Kee-gi slowly, and he did not look into the eyes of Moyo, ‘I do not know of a place where we can go down from here.’

“‘We will go down the trail,’ said Moyo with surprise in his voice. ‘We will go down the very same way that we came up, and if the rocks slip it will not matter, for we will want to go down where they go.’

“‘You did not look back,’ said Kee-gi with a half-smile on his face. ‘You did not look back when that rock fell down—I looked back and I saw the place where it had been—we cannot go down that way.’

“‘Then we will find another way,’ cried Moyo. ‘Come, let us look!’ And Kee-gi jumped up, and they went to every part of the top of the rock. It was not very big on the top, and in a short while they had been over every bit of it, and now they knew very ​certainly that there was not any way down at all, and the eyes of Moyo grew big and dark with the same look that was in the eyes of Kee-gi. The big rock in the trail had taken many others with it, and it was very plain to see that no one at all could go down that place without ropes, and they had not even a thong except the small loop on the water bottle that Kee-gi had brought. And now Moyo did feel that he was not a big boy, and he wished very hard that he had not come to this place where he knew well his mother would not want him to be.

“‘Nobody knows the place where we are,’ he said to Kee-gi. ‘Not anybody at all—and this is not on a trail way where people come often, so they will not find even the ponies down there.’

“‘That is why I have not happy thoughts,’ said Kee-gi. ‘It was a very wrong thing for me to come to this place and to bring you.’

“‘You did not bring me,’ said Moyo quickly, ‘and always there is a way for the right thing to happen. We will think now—be very quiet and we will think!’ And they sat very still, the two of them, and looked out over that great, beautiful desert—away to the home mesa that they could see, softly blue, in the distance. And they thought—and ​thought—and thought! After a while Moyo gave a little sigh.

“‘I cannot think one thing,’ he said, ‘and how I wish that we could fly and had wings like that bird,’ and he pointed with his lips to a bird that flew toward them from the great distance and came nearer and nearer.

“‘It is an eagle,’ said Kee-gi quietly. ‘He has a nest in some of the great rocks near here—maybe in this rock,’ he said as the bird came nearer and nearer. ‘Only eagles could live now in a place like this.’

“‘Yes,’ answered Moyo. ‘Maybe he has a nest in this place. But I would not shoot him even if I had my bow and arrows—I have a friend that is an eagle. Oh, look!’ he cried eagerly; then, ‘This is my friend—this is the sacred eagle. It is Pah-Low—see the red thong on his leg!’ and he jumped up from the place where he had been sitting and watched the eagle with great excitement. ‘Give to me a piece of piki bread,’ he called to Kee-gi, ‘and see how I will make him to come.’ And when the eagle came very close he called to him the little call that he had given many times back on the home mesa. At first the eagle did not seem to hear, but after a little he began to ​make the great circles in the air that Moyo knew so well. Smaller and smaller grew those circles, and then—with a great thump—he landed on the rock very close to Moyo and looked at him first with one eye and then with the other, with a very queer look that seemed to ask:

“‘How does it come that you are in this place—so far from the home mesa?’ Moyo gave him a piece of the piki bread, and then he cried to Kee-gi:

“‘He will go back! If only he could talk he could tell them that we are in this place!’ Kee-gi jumped up when Moyo said that, and a light came into his eyes.

“‘We will send a thing,’ he said in great excitement. ‘We will send a thing that will make talk without words!’ Quick as thought Moyo pulled off the little buckskin shoe that was on his foot, and with a piece of thong from the water bottle run through a hole in the shoe he tied it carefully about the neck of the eagle. He bounded away when Kee-gi tried to come near, and if Moyo had not called to him again in a soft voice he would have gone; but he let Moyo come very near, and Moyo fed him more piki bread as he tied the thong. The eagle was impatient to be gone and spread his great wings as quickly as Moyo stepped away and shot out over the desert again—​away—and away! Moyo and Kee-gi watched him fly farther and farther into the distance, until he was like a tiny speck, and then he faded altogether out of sight. They. sat quietly after that for a long time without speaking; only the shine in their eyes showed the excitement that was in their hearts.

“‘Do you think,’ then asked Moyo in a very small voice, ‘do you think, Kee-gi, they will know the shoe is my shoe—and do you think they will know where to come?’

“Kee-gi made a little pile of stones with his hand and pushed them down again before he answered, and then he spoke very slowly:

“‘I think yes, they will know, maybe, that the shoe is your shoe—but that other thing—how can I know that? Look how the sun is going down in the sky. If you will come close, Moyo, maybe we can keep each other warm, for soon it will be cold.’ And sitting very close together they watched the night creep over the wide desert—and the light in the west turn from red to gold—and then rose and then pale green, and one great star came out and blinked at them in a friendly way—but still below them it was quiet and dark except for the cries of distant coyotes—and no one came.

​“Back on the home mesa the sacred eagle had come back to his place on the house of the medicine man, and very soon, when it came the supper hour, the strange lump thing on his neck was seen.

“‘But what is this?’ said the medicine man, and for a time he shook his head and was greatly puzzled to understand why the little buckskin moccasin had been tied in that place. He told to others how the sacred eagle had brought home tied to his neck the moccasin of a little child, and many thought it strange and puzzled over it for a little while. But when the hour was very late the mother of Moyo came running to him and asked to see that shoe.

“‘My Moyo has not come back,’ she cried. ‘He is still little, and out there, somewhere in the desert, he is lost. Let me see that shoe—it may be that it is the shoe of my Moyo.’ And when she saw it she grew more excited still and cried to them, ‘It is the moccasin of Moyo—we must find him—quick!—we must go and find him!’

“‘But where will we go?’ cried one of the men. ‘The desert is very large, and we cannot search all of it. Let the wise ones think on this and tell us the place to go and look.’

“‘If they will think quickly!’ said the mother of ​Moyo, and there was a look in her eyes that made them move very quickly. And they got together, those wisest ones, and looked at the moccasin and then out into the desert black with night—and one spoke at last:

“‘Where does he fly to—this sacred eagle—when he goes out into the desert? And did anyone see him go this day—and was it long that he was gone?’ The medicine man thought for a little and then he answered:

“‘He goes to the high places where eagles build their nests—always he flies very high—and this day he flew toward the place where the sun goes down.’ The other nodded.

“‘When it is light we will go that way across the desert. It would not be wise to go in the darkness—we might pass the one we seek.’ And the mother of Moyo had to be content with that. But all night long she sat with a very sad face, and when the first gray light of dawn came she called to the men and made them hurry, and when they rode into the desert she was with them on a pony. They took with them long ropes of rawhide, very strong.

“‘For if the eagle flies only to high places,’ said one man, ‘it is in a high place that we will find the child, ​and it may very well be that he cannot get down.’ And so they rode out over the desert, and as they rode always they called—and they frightened all the little animals of the sage and kicked up a very great dust. But just as they were starting out the medicine man went to the place of the sacred eagle, and he opened up the door of the cage place, and he said to the eagle words that were secret—and then he waved with his arms to the desert, and the eagle ran out over the roof and with a great beating of his wings soared out over the desert—away and away—until he was a tiny speck in the sky; and the medicine man watched him with his hand to his eyes, and then he came down from the house with a little smile on his face and got on a small horse and rode down the trail and caught up with the others who were searching the sage.

“‘We will save very much time if we will ride fast to the big rock yonder,’ he said, and he waved his arm toward the great rock that now stood blue and plain against the pale dawn sky. And the others asked no questions at all but struck their horses with their hands and rode very fast through the sage and over rocks and washes toward the big rock—and always ​the mother of Moyo rode two jumps ahead of the others, and her eyes saw everything that they passed.

“And Moyo and Kee-gi, watching, saw them coming from a great way off and laughed and shouted as they drew near. It did not take a great while for the men to fasten ropes to the stout bush that grew just above the broken place in the trail, and very soon Moyo and Kee-gi were standing at the foot of the rock, and the mother of Moyo had shining drops in her eyes, though a smile was on her lips—a very trembly smile. But the bad feeling that had been in the heart of Moyo changed quickly into a lumpy feeling in his throat.

“‘Always I will tell you,’ he almost sobbed in the arms of his mother, ‘after this, always I will tell you the place where I go.’

“‘Yes,’ smiled his mother through the shining drops. ‘Not always is there an eagle to come—that is a thing that does not happen all the time.’ And it was such a true thing that she said that no one answered with one word’’; and, all at once, the old man stopped speaking and smiled into the fire.

“That is a good tale,” said Nah-tee and Moyo ​almost in the same breath. “And after that,” asked Nah-tee, “did you—did that little boy—mind the words of his mother?”

“Ai-ee, but you have said a true thing,” nodded the old man. “After that he was very careful to mind the words of his mother—and now has come the time when you must mind the words of an old man. Look how it is the time for little ones to sleep.”

“But how can I sleep,” asked Nah-tee, “when there are things—and things—and things to think about—and so soon now we go to that mesa,” but her eyes were like owl’s eyes already with trying to hold them wide awake.

“We shall see,” said the old man, getting to his feet. “We shall see if you cannot sleep.” And he took a blanket and made it into a bed place near the fire, with a soft fold for the head and a piece to go over the top. “Now,” he said, when it was ready, and Nah-tee curled down inside like a little silkworm into its cocoon, and the old man tucked her in as carefully and as tenderly as ever her mother had done, and then he sat down near her and began to croon in a high, thin voice:

And the old man stopped then and turned softly to smile at Moyo, but on that other blanket was another little warm bundle—very still—and the old man’s smile deepened as he saw that he had been singing a sleeping song for two.