Chapter X
Star had no trouble following the dim trail of the Comanche ponies backtoward their camp. Though he had travelled it only once he did notforget it, and what was still more strange, he, like other ponies raisedon the prairies and in the mountains, was able to go over dangerousplaces in the dark.
The only thing that really bothered him was that the coyotes were nearhim at night when he could not see them. But he slept in the daytime,taking short naps, or just rested with his eyes wide open; then whendarkness fell, he rose and went steadily on.
Of course, he worried about his mother, wondering where she was and whathad happened to Quannah and the warriors and all the Comanche ponies. IfStar had not seen his mother's fright and had not heard the fire-stickstalking so angrily, he would have thought it a great lark to be alone,with no one to control him.
More than once he was tempted to go back to his mother, but when hehesitated he remembered that she probably was no longer in the place hehad left her; besides, he dared not risk her anger by disobeying her.Her teeth were sharp and her jaws strong, and his back still hurt whereshe had bitten him. She had often pinched him, but never before hadRunning Deer hurt her colt. It was not actually the bite that hurt most,but what she had said when she thought he was a coward. So Star decidedhe had better go on, and he trotted or loped toward the camp whereSongbird had remained with the women and children.
The coyotes, though following, kept a respectful distance from his teethand heels. Several times they tumbled over each other in their haste tododge him when, with a squeal of fury, he raced after them. He knew thatthey could not catch him as long as he was awake and could see them, andhis hearing was so keen that even the crackling of a dry twig awoke himand brought him with a bound to his feet ready to meet his foes.
There were many little streams of clear water and plenty of good feed,and Star would have been quite happy had he not been anxious about hismother, Quannah, and the Comanche pony herd. Songbird, he believed quitesafe in the camp with the women, papooses, and old men who had been tooaged or feeble to join the warriors in the fight.
It took a week for Star to reach the top of a gentle slope from which helooked down upon the camp. Smoke was rising lazily from fires in thetepees, children were playing in front of their homes, and the squawswere moving about attending to their everyday work. But as the ponylooked, it seemed strange not to see even one animal of the immenseComanche pony herd.
"Suppose I should never see them again!" he thought for the first time."Maybe the white men will take my mother away, too!"
Unable to resist his feeling of loneliness and fear, Star lifted hishead and called loudly, though he knew perfectly well that all theponies were with Quannah, and that it had taken a journey of one week toget to this camp. Of course he did not expect an answer, but he gavecall after call. Even the sound of his own voice made it seem lesslonesome just now.
A squaw, carrying a bundle of dry faggots on her bent back, was thefirst to hear him, and after the first glance her cry of surprisebrought other women from the tepees. Someone called to Songbird, and asthe child ran out of her father's big tepee, Star gave a shrill nickerand raced pell-mell down the slope until he gained her side. Songbird'sarms wound around his neck, and his head bent low, while he listened tothe loving words of his little mistress and felt her soft hands caresshim.
The other children gathered, while the squaws talked among themselves,each one trying to understand how Star had come alone to the camp. Manyof them were certain that Quannah and his warriors were returning, andthat Star had just galloped ahead to find Songbird.
They hastened to assure the child that this was the only solution to thepuzzle, and so they left Songbird and Star and hastened to makepreparations for the returning warriors, who would be very hungry andtired after so long a journey.
Star followed Songbird when she climbed the hill, where they watchedtogether while below them the other children and all the women rushedabout preparing a great feast. But the hours passed, and when it wastoo dark to see anything except the flickering fires and the shadowyfigures near the light, Songbird and Star moved slowly down thehillside. The pony's head drooped, for he was very tired, and Songbird'scheeks were streaked where she had wiped away tears that she must notallow any one except Star to see, for she was the daughter of the chief.Moko gave a sharp glance at Songbird, then spoke in a low voice.
"Quannah will come, and I shall paint a robe for him, and it will showhow he conquered the white men, and I shall paint Songbird, the daughterof Quannah, and Star, the colt of Running Deer, waiting for the returnof Quannah and his warriors."
Songbird looked soberly at Moko. "What will you paint if my father doesnot come back again, Moko?"
"I will paint a chief's daughter who did not cry," the old womananswered. "Men fight with spears and arrows or knives, and they winhonour and praise, but women fight alone and no one knows when theyfight. Brave women do not weep. You are the daughter of the chief. Hismother rode beside his father when the fire-sticks screamed at them,and she was not afraid. You will not cry even though Quannah does notreturn to us."
"No"--the voice that answered Moko was very low and trembling--"I willnot cry, Moko."
The old Picture-Maker, clutching a lock of Star's mane in her wrinkledhand, looked after the little figure that walked proudly away anddisappeared into the chief's tent. Moko shook her white head sadly asshe gave some dried corn to Star, then tethered him with a long ropemade from plaited strips of buffalo hide. In the big tepee Songbird layacross the bed of furs, choking back sobs that must not be heard.
During the following week the squaws and children watched, whileSongbird and Star went daily to the highest point overlooking the camp,hoping for some sign of the returning warriors. As the two were about tostart up the hill on the morning of the eighth day, a Comanche warrior,mounted on a black pony, appeared on the point above the camp. Star wasthe first to see him. Star knew that black pony had sharp teeth and verystrong jaws. Running Deer answered her colt's welcoming call, then Startore madly toward his mother, who, with Quannah on her back, scrambledhastily to meet her colt.
As the ponies met, Songbird held out her arms, and her father lifted herfrom Star's back. Holding her before him, the chief rode down into thecamp, while Songbird's eyes glowed with pride and joy. Star, keepingclosely beside his mother, kicked his heels, shook his head, and nippedhis mother's neck.
Over the crest of the hill behind Quannah, rode the cavalcade ofComanche warriors. Their war-bonnets trailed over their shoulders andfell almost to the ground, their shields were held aloft, and the silvertrinkets on each pony jingled loudly. One by one the Comanches dashedfuriously into the camp, formed in single files and raced in and outbetween the tepees, uttering shrill cries of triumph, while the womenand even tiny children joined in the song of victory.
Songbird had been dropped lightly to the ground, and now, among theother children, she watched her father as he sat on Running Deertowering above all the other warriors. Her little heart seemed ready toburst with pride. Never had there been such a Comanche Chief, shethought.
The war-bonnet of eagle feathers which encircled his forehead swept downhis back, and over Running Deer's glossy black flank to the mare'sfetlocks. Large hoops of brass were in the chief's ears, and a necklaceof bear's claws hung about his neck. Quannah had killed those bears, andeach one had been big and very fierce. Only a brave warrior could havekilled them alone. Tight trousers of buckskin, fringed at the outerseams, and moccasins trimmed with bits of red cloth, finished the bestclothes of a Comanche chief. Songbird thought it a beautiful way ofdressing.
His hair, braided with otter fur and tied with strips of red material,formed a long scalp-lock. It was a disgrace for a warrior to have noscalp-lock. In battle his enemies always tried to capture it as a trophyof victory and proof of bravery.
Many of the ponies were striped with different colours. The stripes wereused on buckskin, white, gray, or sorrel ponies to prevent d
etection byfoes, but the darker ponies, such as blacks or bays, did not need suchprecautions. Running Deer, being coal-black like Star, had not beenpainted. The mare's bridle was heavy with silver ornaments which hadbeen hammered firmly on reins and headstall, while her long tail andthick mane were braided with the same kind of red cloth that tiedQuannah's scalp-lock.
An hour after the return of the men, the ponies had been unsaddled andturned loose to rest and graze, while their owners scattered in thevillage to prepare for the feast that awaited them, and to relate to theeager squaws and papooses how their chief had outwitted and evaded thewhite men who had hoped to capture the Comanches. For Quannah had luredthem over misleading trails, up and down steep canyons, out on the borderof the sandy desert called the Staked Plains, where white men, unable tofind water or food, lay down to die, but where the Comanche Indianstravelled without disaster.
The boys who had sneaked into the picket-lines of the soldiers and hadthen stampeded the white horses were praised and feasted by the squaws,envied by all the other boys, and smiled at by the girls who watched thelittle heroes admiringly.
The next day the camp was bustling with activity before the sun peeredcuriously over the hill tops. That night the warriors were to celebratethe Pipe Dance, and when the full moon rose over the distant mountainsall of the Quahadas gathered for the ceremony.
Songbird was dressed in her new buckskin robe, her hair was smoothlybraided and fell in two long plaits. She walked proudly, for no otherchild was to have the honour of standing with the squaws in the Dance.Already a ring was forming. In the very centre were the women, whomSongbird joined, and with the women stood a few of the very old men.Beyond them was a still larger circle composed of the warriors,including Gray Beard, Big Wolf, and Spotted Leopard.
Karolo, the Medicine Man, stood beside Quannah, who held a lighted pipemade of red sandstone. At a signal the warriors began dancing slowlyabout their chief, all moving in the same direction, like a revolvingwheel. As each man came opposite Quannah, the chief held out the smokingpipe and the warrior who received it took a whiff or two; then, handingit back to Quannah, the man kept on dancing, all the while the otherswent on with their weird chant.
Star and Running Deer stood together on the outer edge watching thedancers, who finished with great whoops of excitement. Then men, women,and children squatted near the big camp fire where a feast had been set.The light of the moon made each face as distinct as though it were beingseen in early morning. Beyond the edge of the camp, coyotes gathered,sniffing the air and yelping because they dared not come nearer the foodthat smelled so good.
It was a night to be long remembered by the Quahada Comanches, but atlast the men, women, and sleepy children rose and went to their homes,where, with a few parting words to one another, they lifted the flaps oftheir tepees and slipped through the entrances. In a short time eventheir murmuring voices were silent.
The moon continued slowly on its journey through the sky, and the ponyherd huddled together for the rest of the night. Among the sleepinganimals was the old white troop horse, and Star, with Running Deer,stretched closely beside him. They had all been very glad to meet again.
Star had noticed another strange horse not far away. He was a big, grayanimal. Just now he was moving nervously and lifting his head, lookedabout him. Star's eyes met those of the stranger.
For a second the two horses stared curiously at each other. Then thegray horse let his head fall slowly to the ground. Star, too sleepy tothink of anything but rest, closed his eyes and pillowed his headcomfortably on his mother's neck. She blinked at him, but the bite shegave his neck did not hurt this time. Then they all slept.
None of them ever stirred when the Comanche on guard over the pony herd,seeing a coyote sneaking too near, seized a burning brand from thesmouldering camp fire and tossed it at the shadowy, skulking form.Countless little sparks scattered as the burning stick hit the ground,and the cry of the coyote pack grew fainter and fainter, until it diedin the distance.