Star Part 14

Star loped lightly up the hill and stopped on the very top. Where Quannah had halted Running Deer and looked down on the village, Songbird now looked down. Then she gave a startled cry.

All signs of the village had vanished. Where she had left many tepees, she now saw empty s.p.a.ce. Where children had shouted at play, silence greeted her. Where camp fires had blazed, cold ashes stirred in the light breeze.

Scarcely believing her own eyes, she urged Star on a run down the hill, as though hoping the village might be there when she reached the very spot where the camp had once been. But it was more lonely than even the desert had been. For out there she had believed that she had a home and now she had nothing.

Almost frantic, she jumped from her pony and ran to the spot where her father's tepee had been, calling his name over and over again, and begging him to come back to her. Nothing familiar met her eyes except the fire pit and the poles on which she had many times hung her father's moccasins to dry.

In a frenzy of grief and fear, she flung herself beside the fire pit, and Star, knowing that something was very wrong, called as loudly as he could. But no pony answered, and no Quahada woman or child came to comfort his little mistress who lay sobbing on the ground. So Star could do nothing but wait patiently.

Songbird's sobs finally stopped, and she raised herself slowly until she was sitting with her knees drawn up, her elbows propped upon them and her chin resting in her palms. For some time she sat staring at the top of the hill, while Star, only a few paces away, nibbling dry roots, paused frequently to look at her.

"My father came back while I was gone," she said to Star, at last. "He is angry with me and has moved the camp so that I cannot find him. But I will look for him until I find him and tell him I am sorry I did not obey him. I know he will not send me away from him, even though he is very angry. If he will not let me come into his tepee, I will wait at the entrance, and maybe some day he will forgive me."

Comforted by this thought, she ate rather sparingly of her food supply.

Then she curled beside the fire pit where her father's tepee had once stood, and slept until morning, for she was very, very tired.

So soundly she slept that she did not know the coyotes, sneaking about the deserted camp site, had more than once tumbled over one another to avoid a sudden dash of an angry pony. Then, when they had sought safety from his teeth and heels, Star returned to his vigil over his little mistress.

The sun had not yet peeped over the rim of the world when Songbird and Star started on their search for the vanished Quahadas. Both of them watched for signs along the trail, and had no difficulty in finding where the lodge poles of the tepees had dragged on the ground.

Star also noticed something that puzzled him. No unshod hoof prints mingled with the Quahada trail, but there were many distinct marks of shod horses. He remembered that the Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse, when they had first come to live among the Quahada ponies, wore strange metal things on the bottom of their hoofs, and they had told Star and the other ponies that all the white men's horses wore these things, which they called shoes.

The Quahada ponies had thought it very strange that the white men's horses could not travel on sharp rocks with bare feet, as the Indian ponies always did.

Star had not forgotten this, nor how the two cavalry horses had limped at first, after the metal shoes had worn thin and finally fallen off in pieces. However, in a little time the Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse had been able to scramble over rough places just as well as the Quahada ponies could do.

Songbird did not notice all these things as Star did. While they travelled she kept her eyes on the marks made by the trailing lodge poles. That was all she cared to know. For wherever the lodge poles led, she knew that she would find the Quahadas, and that her father would be with them.

For three days Songbird and Star followed, not resting until the light was too dim to see the trail. Then they lay down together on the ground till morning. Wherever water could be found, the pony and the child drank, but as they had no way to carry water with them, both suffered from thirst many times. Only dry mud had been left in many water holes, because of the long drought.

Star's sides shrank until his ribs showed and his hips stood out in sharp points. Spa.r.s.e clumps of dry gra.s.s const.i.tuted his only feed, and even that had been cropped to its roots by the big band of horses on the trail that Songbird was following.

Her own supply of food was almost gone. The third night when she opened her bundle and saw only enough for the next morning, her lips quivered as she wondered where she could find anything more to eat. Yet the next morning, after dividing what was left of her food, so as to make two meals of it, she rose courageously and resumed her journey, always keeping her eyes on the marks of the trailing lodge poles.

It was late in the afternoon of the third day when Star, looking ahead from a high bit of ground, saw an object that made his ears c.o.c.k sharply and his nostrils distend, as he sniffed the air. Far away something fluttered at the tip of a white lodge pole. Then he remembered what the Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse had said about the flag which protected Indians who were not fighting the white men. Songbird had been so intent upon the track of the lodge poles that she did not see what Star had noticed, and when the pony gave a loud squeal and broke into a wild run, she did not know what to make of his actions.

Down the slight slope he rushed. Then Songbird saw a tall white lodge pole with something striped in red and white fluttering at its tip. She did not know what it meant, but she clung tightly to Star's mane as he ran directly toward a hollow square surrounded with strange buildings, which were different from anything she had ever seen in her life.

Fast as Star ran, Songbird was able to catch a glimpse of men near these buildings, and the men had white faces. But Star did not stop until he stood directly at the foot of the big lodge pole. There, with Songbird on his back, the pony lifted his head very high and called again and again, as loudly as he could.

Songbird, bewildered, saw men running toward her from all sides, shouting to one another. And knowing these were the terrible white men who had carried Preloch away, and Prairie Flower, too, she bowed her head, believing that they were coming to kill her.

But as they reached her side, she saw kindly faces, and heard voices that were not harsh or threatening. One man spoke to the others, who listened respectfully. Then another man led Star between a row of buildings, which Songbird stared at, half frightened, half curious.

Back of these long buildings, which were made with places where men looked out at her, she saw a great line of the familiar Quahada tepees, and in front of the very largest one stood her father, who started toward her, calling her name.

Like a flash, Songbird jumped from Star's back, past the men who watched her, and then she was in her father's arms. She knew that he was not angry with her, and nothing else mattered now. She had heard his voice and had seen his joy, which this time he had not tried to hide, even though he was the chief of the Quahada Comanches.

Chapter XX

The days that followed were the happiest of Songbird's life. Not only was she with her father and the rest of her people once more, but she knew that there would be no more fighting between the Quahadas and the white men. Quannah had given his pledge of peace, and now the white people were his friends.

Little white children, dressed in clothes that seemed strange to Songbird, came to the Quahada camp and brought things that were very nice to eat. It did not take long for the Quahada children to rush eagerly and greet these visitors, though of course not one Quahada child could understand what the white children were saying. But that made no difference.

Sometimes the white mothers came, too. They brought clothing like the things the white children wore, and the Quahada squaws were much pleased when they saw their own youngsters dressed in the new finery, with shoes and stockings on their feet.

While the young Comanches walked awkwardly in their new things, or talked among themselves about the toys that had been given them, Songbird sat apart, silent but happy. A wonderful doll with real yellow hair, and blue eyes that closed in sleep sat primly beside her, but a dirty buckskin Indian doll was more often hugged to Songbird's breast.

Then one great day Songbird was taken to play with two children in the home of an officer. They brought toys and games, and she watched each thing they did, trying to act in the same way. Her father had told her to watch and learn to be like the white children, now.

After a little while she stopped playing and listened to the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. Then she rose to her feet and moved softly toward the room from which the music came.

Standing by the door she stared at one of the ladies who was seated before a big box that had a great many teeth, and as her fingers touched these white, s.h.i.+ning teeth, the Spirit in the Box sang sweetly.

Wide-eyed with wonder, Songbird listened without moving. She heard in the music the wind blowing through trees, the noise of the stream, the song of wild birds and the cry of the Thunder Bird.

The music stopped, and the lady, turning suddenly, saw the child in the doorway. Smiling, she beckoned Songbird, who came forward shyly. The little brown hand was lifted by the white, ringed hand of the lady.

Songbird's fingers were pressed on the teeth of the box that sang, and as it spoke to her, Songbird's big, black eyes sparkled with joy, while her solemn little face lighted with a smile.

Then the lady motioned her to a chair, and for a long time Songbird sat listening to the singing of the Spirit in the Box. All this she told her father when she went back to his tepee. Each day after that when she went to play with the children, the mother of the children first took Songbird to the room where the Spirit in the Box sang for her.

And each day her father talked to her, telling her that she should learn everything that the white people knew, even how to make the Spirit in the Box sing when her fingers touched it.

There were many councils between Quannah and his head chiefs with the big white chiefs. But there was no more talk of war among the Quahadas.

And one day Quannah told Songbird that they were free to go and build their camp again. Songbird did not tell him that she did not want to part from her new friends, but he understood her wistful face.

"I will come back many times to see them," he said, "and you shall come with me. Our new camp will not be far away from here."

So she was happy again. And the next day the Quahadas set busily to work taking down all the tepees and preparing to move to their own camping grounds. Songbird and Quannah did not spend these last hours with the Indians, for they were in the home of an officer.

After they had all eaten lunch together, the officer led the way to the front porch. There, before the house, stood a soldier holding the Big Gray Horse by its bridle, and on its back was a cavalry saddle.

"The horse and bridle and saddle are gifts to you from General Mackenzie," the officer said to Quannah, and an interpreter, who knew how to speak both the white men's language and that of the Comanches, repeated it to the chief.

The officer spoke again. This time he looked at Songbird and smiled, while the interpreter said, "The officers give Quannah's daughter the black pony which carried her into Fort Sill."

Then Quannah and Songbird noticed a soldier leading Star to the gate.

Star's little mistress ran down the porch steps and did not stop until her arms were about the pony's neck.

When she was on Star's back, and Quannah had mounted the Big Gray Horse, Songbird saw her father hold out his hand to the officers who had gathered about them. Very gravely she did the same thing. None of the officers smiled as they took her small, brown hand, for she was a daughter of a great chief who had won their respect as a soldier and as a man.

Side by side Quannah and Songbird went slowly along the gravel road in front of the officers' homes; but when they had reached a point directly opposite the tall white lodge pole where the flag fluttered gracefully, Quannah reined the Big Gray Horse, so that it faced the lodge pole.

Songbird did the same.

Her father lifted his hand, as she had seen the men and officers do many times. Without understanding, and without hesitation, Songbird, too, raised her hand and saluted the flag.