CHAPTER I
INDIAN LOVERS
A moon just past its first quarter was shining on the Indian pueblo ofSantiago, so that one side of the main street (it only boasted four) wasin deep shadow, while on the other the mud-built houses were made almostbeautiful by the silver light. The walls on the bright side werecuriously barred with the slanting shadows cast by low, broad ladders,which led from storey to storey of the terrace-like buildings, and bythe projecting ends of the beams which supported their flat roofs.Outside each house, clear away from the wall, stood a great clay oven,in shape exactly like a gigantic beehive as tall as a man. In thedeepest shadow on the dark side of the street, between one of theseovens and the wall, something was crouching. The street was deserted,for the Indians, who practise the precept "early to bed and early torise," had long ago lain down to sleep on their sheepskins. But ifanyone had gone up to the crouching something, he would have found ayoung Indian, with a striped blanket drawn completely over and aroundhim so as to conceal everything except the keen eyes that peeredwatchfully out of the folds. There was no one to disturb him, however,and the bright moon of New Mexican skies sank lower and lower in thewest, and yet he remained there motionless, except when now and againthe night air, growing colder, caused the blanket to be gathered moreclosely to the body it was protecting.
Just as the moon dipped behind the western hills, the figure sprang upand darted forward. The long, untiring watch was over at last. From ahole in the opposite wall, a good deal higher than a man's head from theground, a little hand and wrist were seen waving.
In a moment the boy--he was hardly more--was underneath. He threw backthe blanket from his head, and it fell down to his waist, where it wassupported by a belt, leaving his body and arms free. His answering handcrept up the cold, rough surface of the wall till at its utmost stretchhe felt a smooth, warm skin rub against his finger-tips, and instantlythe two hands interlocked.
"Is that you, Felipe?" breathed a low voice from inside.
"Yes, my love, it is," came back a whisper as low from the Indian boywho had waited so long and so patiently for his sweetheart's signal."Why did you look so sad," he continued, "when you gave me the signalto-day? Is there anything new?"
"Oh, Felipe, yes," she sighed. "I do not know how to tell you. My fatherspoke to me this morning and said it should be in three days. He hassent for the padre to come. In three days, Felipe! What shall I do? Ishall die!"
The young Indian groaned under his breath. "In three days!" he said."Ah, that is too cruel! Is it really true?"
"Oh yes," came the whispered answer. "My father said he would beat me todeath if I did not consent. I should not so much mind being beaten,Felipe--it would be for you; but he would kill me, I believe. I amfrightened."
Felipe felt the shiver that ran through the finger-tips clasped in his."Do not be so afraid, Josefa," he said, trying to keep up her courage."Can you not tell the padre that you hate old Ignacio and that you willnot marry him?"
"Yes," replied she, "but he will say, 'Oh, nonsense, nonsense; girls arealways afraid like that.' As long as my father is cacique the padre isbound to please him to make sure of getting his dues. He'll do what myfather wants. He will not mind me."
"There is only one thing for us to do," said the boy; "we must run awaytogether."
"But where?" said she, "and how? They will catch us, and they will beatus, and they will marry me all the same to that ugly old Ignacio. I hatehim from the bottom of my heart; and if ever he dares to try to masterme, I'll do him a mischief."
"Ah, but he is going to bribe your father with three cows," said herlover disconsolately. "He can do it, too, easy enough. He is the veryrichest man of all the Eagles, and I suppose the Eagles are thestrongest family in the pueblo next to the Snakes. Anyway the caciquealways favours them, so he has a double reason for wanting to hand youover to that old miser. Alas! I have no cows to give him, not even onelittle calf. We Turquoises are so few and so poor! The cacique wouldnever hear of your marrying one of us. He is so proud of having marrieda Snake himself, that he thinks nobody good enough for his daughter whoisn't able----" He was silenced by the girl.
"Hush!" said she quickly in a smothered tone, "I hear him moving aboutin the farther room"; and the Indian lad listened, motionless as astatue, with all the wary concentration of his race in the moment ofdanger.
The red Indian has often been represented as apathetic. He is not. Hisloves and his hatreds are intense, only, both by birth and bringing up,he is endowed with extraordinary power of controlling their expression.Underneath their outward self-restraint these simple folk of Santiagowere capable enough of feeling all the emotions of humanity pulsingthrough their veins and plucking at their heart-strings. Felipe andJosefa, exchanging hand-clasps and vows of fidelity through a hole in anadobe wall, were as passionate and as miserable as if the little dramawhich meant so much to them was being played on the wider stage of thegreat world outside. When the girl whispered "hush" to her lover, bothheld their breath and listened, each conscious of the pulse thatthrobbed in the other's hand. It was a noise from inside the house thathad startled the girl. She could hear that someone in a farther room hadgot up and was throwing a stick of wood on the fire. With a gentlepressure her finger-tips were withdrawn from her lover's, and her handdisappeared back through the hole. Felipe sank down into the crouchingposition he had been in till she came, drawing the blanket over him forconcealment and warmth as before. For nearly half an hour he remainedperfectly still. Then a slight rubbing on the inner side of the wallbecame audible, and presently looking up he saw not a hand only, but awhole arm reaching down to him from the opening. Up he sprang, andstretching himself on tiptoe against the wall he succeeded in bringinghis lips up to the little hand, which he kissed silently again andagain.
"It was my father," said she. "He must be asleep again now; he lay downagain quite soon. They put a new stone," she continued, "in thehand-mill to-day, for I have quite worn out the old one with grindingcorn on it for my step-mother. But they have brought the old one intothe storeroom here, and I have taken it to stand on, so that I can seeyou now if I take my hand in and put my head to the hole. But, Felipe,let us settle what to do."
"I've been thinking," said Felipe, "we must run; we must. Of course itis no use for us to go to our padre. He is on their side, just as yousay, so we will not go to him. We will try another padre, who hasnothing to do with the pueblo and won't care for your father. I'll tellyou. Let us go to Padre Trujillo at Ensenada. They say he is good andkind to his Indians. He will marry us. I have the money to pay his fee.When we are once married, my joy, we are safe. They cannot separate uswhen the padre has joined us for ever. They cannot do anything to usthen; our own padre himself would forbid it."
"We would be safe then, indeed," sighed Josefa. "Oh, if we could onlymanage it! What shall we do for a horse? the horse herd is away in thesierra, and they will not bring it down till Sunday."
"Sunday will be too late for us," said Felipe sadly. "We want a horsenow, at once; I could go out to the horse herd and get my father's horseif he would give me leave to get him. But you know this new captain ofthe horse herd is that bullying Rufino of the Eagles. He and hishelpers have the herd now on the other side of the Cerro de las Viboras,the Mountain of the Snakes. I'm sure they'd never let me have the horseunless my father gave them the order or came to fetch him himself. Buthe won't do that, I know; the horse is thin after the cold winter, andhe wants him to eat green grass now and grow fat. It won't do."
"Ask El Americano, then," suggested the girl quickly, as if a suddenthought had struck her. "Yes, why don't you ask him? Ask Don Estevan tolend you a horse or a mule; you work for him, and he seems so friendlywith you, perhaps he'll let you have one of his."
"What!" exclaimed the young Indian, "ask him! Ask Turquoise-eyes to lenda horse! Ask Sooshiuamo to do that! That's no sort of use." He spokehopelessly, as if surprised at her even thinking of such a thing.
El Americano, as the girl had first ca
lled him, otherwise known as DonEstevan or Sooshiuamo, was a solitary white man, a prospector who hadobtained permission to spend the past winter in the village of theIndians of Santiago, and by them was often referred to as El Americano,the American _par excellence_, because he was the only one within fiftymiles.
"You might just ask him once, though," she persisted, in spite ofFelipe's attitude. "Oh yes, Felipe, go and ask him. Do try. Go now. Itcan't do any harm even if he won't."
"But I know he won't," returned the boy, unconvinced; "and I shall haveto tell him what it's for, and if I go and tell Sooshiuamo our secret,what's to prevent him telling the chiefs? He's very friendly with themall."
"Oh, but of course you mustn't tell him our plan," she answered; "wemust keep that dark. But he's very kind to all our folk. Perhaps he'd doit for us out of kindness. It's all out of kindness, isn't it, that he'sgoing to make the rocks fly away out of the acequia to-morrow? They sayhe's going to do a miracle for the pueblo. I heard my father talkingabout it."
"Yes, I know that," said Felipe; "I know he told me himself he wouldmake the rocks jump out of the ditch, and that then we should have twiceas much water as ever we had before. I know he's a good friend to us.But I know, too, he hates ever to lend any of his animals to any of us.He thinks we would ride them to death if he did. I will try him, though,anyway. I will beg very hard. Don't be afraid, dear heart; I will getone somehow, if you will really come--yes, if I have to take one of theMexicans' horses."
"Oh no, not that!" cried she. "They will shoot you or hang you if youtouch their horses. Don't do it. I will not go if you take a horse ofthe Mexicans. I would rather go afoot."
"No, dear heart, you couldn't. It isn't possible. It is ten leagues toEnsenada from here, and we must do it between moonset and daylight, orthey will catch us. Do not talk of going afoot. Trust me, I will get ahorse. But you will really come, Josefa _mia_? Do you really mean it?What other woman would be so brave?"
"I do mean it, indeed," she answered. "Oh, how I wish we could bemarried here in our own church by the padre! but my father wouldn't hearof it. He wouldn't even let me speak to you, you know, or let me go outwithout being watched."
"Yes, I wish we could," said the young Indian wistfully. "I spoke to myfather to ask for you for me, but he only said, 'We are too poor. It isno use. We have only one horse and two cows. Ignacio has several horsesand thirty cows.' As if that was a reason, when I want you so much!" headded indignantly. "If I had the whole world I would give it toSalvador, and he might be cacique of it all, if he would only let mehave you." He drew himself up to the wall again and kissed the littlewarm hand eagerly. "My sweetheart!" he exclaimed, "I shall die if I donot get you! Oh, if I could only tear down this hateful wall! How can Italk to you properly when I cannot see you? May not I get in by theterrace roof? Let me try."
"Hush, Felipe," she said. "Don't be foolish, you silly boy. You would besure to be heard, and then everything will be ruined. You must bepatient." Here she gave his hand a little squeeze, which of course hadjust the contrary effect to her advice, for he kissed the fingers withredoubled ardour. Then he broke in--
"But if I can't get in without disturbing them, how will you be able toget out?"
"Oh, I can manage that," said the girl. "I will slip into this storeroomwhen they are asleep, as I always do, and from here I can get throughthe trap-door into the room above, and so out on to the terrace. Thereis an old ladder I can get up by."
The villages of the Pueblo Indians are built in terraces, eachhouse-storey standing back from the one below it like a flight ofgigantic steps. From terrace to terrace people ascend by ladders, andmany of the lower rooms are without any door but a trap-door in theceiling. The system is a relic of the times when their villages werecastles for defence against their deadly enemies, the marauding Navajosand Apaches.
"How brave you are, Josefita _mia_!" he cried. "Will you really dare torun away from them, and come with me? How sweet it will be! we shall betogether for the first time--think of it! Oh, I will make you happy, Iwill indeed!"
"If they rob me of you, I shall die," said the girl in a low, sad voice."One thing, Felipe, I promise you, I will not be Ignacio's wife. Never!You need not fear that."
"Oh, my darling," he sighed, "how can I be content with that? I want youfor my very own. In my eyes you are more beautiful than the saints inthe church, and they are not more wise and good than you. Why are thingsmade so hard for us?"
"I do not know," she said softly; "nobody seems to be so unhappy as weare. But we can comfort each other ever so much. My step-mother willmake me work like a slave all to-morrow, I know, but I shall have thethought of you to comfort me."
"My sweetheart!" said he. "You have a thousand times more to bear than Ihave. But I will try to think for you. You must take some rest. I knowhow they treat you." He ground his teeth. "We must part now, but I willcome to-morrow night. I will bring a horse if I can get one. If not, wehave one day left still, and we will settle what to do."
"Till to-morrow night, then," said she.
"To-morrow night at moonset," said Felipe; and with many final pressuresof hands, each one intended to be the very last, the lovers parted.
Silently the moccasined feet of the boy stole up the wide street, as heran homeward under the clear starlight. He lifted the latch of hismother's door and entered. The fire was low, and he put on another stickof cedar wood, and lying down on the sheepskins spread upon the floor,covered himself with his blanket and lay still. His father, oldAtanacio, woke up when he came in, but said nothing to him; and soonsleep reigned again supreme in the Indian house. The Indians are earlyrisers as well as light sleepers, and before daylight they were up andstirring. After their breakfast of bread and dried mutton, Atanaciosaid, "When you have taken care of the horses of the Americano, Felipe,you had better weed the wheat patch by the meadow. Tomas and I are goingto the patch up by the orchard."
"I wanted," said Felipe, somewhat timidly, "to go to the herd and getthe horse."
"Bad luck take the boy!" snarled the old Indian. "What does he want withthe horse? Does he think we keep a horse for him to wear him to askeleton flying round the country on him? Let him be. Let him get fat onthe green grass."
"But I shall want him if I go with Sooshiuamo," answered Felipediplomatically. "The Americano told me that he was going off to thesierra for a hunt to get meat as soon as he had made the rocks jump outof the acequia for us as he has promised. He said when he went on a hunthe wanted me to go along and help him to pack the meat down. His riflenever misses, and then when he kills a wild bull he will give memeat--fresh meat--father."
"Bad luck take the Americano, too," growled the old man, as crossly asever. "Whose cattle are they that he wants to kill? The wild cattle inthe mountain are the children of ours, though they have no brands. Whyshould he come and kill them?"
"The cacique gave him leave, father."
"Well, I suppose he says so," was the ungracious response. "But if hewants to take you, he can give you a beast to ride. He has two mulesbesides the mare, and they do nothing, and eat maize all the time. Theyought to be fat."
"But if he kills a bull he will want them to carry the meat," saidFelipe. "One mule can't carry it all."
"Very well, then, you can ride one of his up and walk back," snapped thestern parent. "Want to ride the horse indeed! Lazy young rascal! Goafoot."
Felipe felt rebellious. He was getting to be a man now, and his fatherstill wanted to treat him with as little consideration as a child.Instead of showing increasing respect to his tall son, the old man grewcrosser and crosser every day. But Felipe had never rebelled against theparental yoke, though he had said to himself a hundred times that hewould not stand it any longer. Yet in plotting to elope with Josefa hewas plotting a rebellion far more venturesome against the code of thecommunity of which he was a member.
"There isn't much hope there," said he to himself as he left the house,"but I knew that before. Now for Don Estevan." It was no use to try toborrow f
rom any of the other Indians, for every man of them had hishorse out at the herd--except, indeed, the cacique himself--and the herdwas a day's journey away. With an anxious heart the boy wended his wayto the next street of the village, which was the one where the Americanlodged.