The Delight Makers Part 21

There was no possibility of misunderstanding the smile and the motions, although the words, of course, were beyond Shotaye's comprehension. In return she pointed to the west again, made the conventional sign for night and sleep, and began to count her fingers. As she bent the eighth digit the Tehua stopped her, held up every finger of the right hand and three of the left, described, as if in confirmation eight times, an arch from east to west, and concluded by pointing to the north, exclaiming very emphatically,--

"Puye!" He looked at her and laughed aloud, as the Indian does when he feels delighted, pressed both hands against his chest, and uttered proudly,--

"Cayamo."

"Shotaye," she eagerly replied.

The black-painted hero burst out in immoderate laughter.

"Shotaye, Shotaye," he repeated, caught hold of one of her hands, caressed his chest with it, and danced about merrily, exclaiming,--

"Cuindae, Cayamo, cuindae, Shotaye, cuinda!" He counted the number eight several times, and then suddenly bent down. One of his sandals had become loose.

These sandals consisted, as mentioned before, of wooden hoops covered by strips of rabbit-skin and tied to the naked foot with bands of the same material. The wearer stood on them as on wheels lying flat on the ground; he was able to walk and even to run at a moderate speed, and the prints which he made, being circular, gave a pursuing enemy no clew to the direction of his going or coming.

While the man was stooping and fastening the leather thongs, Shotaye scanned his appearance thoroughly. She perceived on his back, aside from a bow and the usual quiver filled with war-arrows, a shield. The painting on that shield she examined with particular care. The target was painted white, with a black rim; and in the centre was a green crescent, with four red crosses. Such figures have no heraldic signification; they are but the creation of fancy or taste, and recall the designs of the ancient Teutons which Tacitus describes, "Scuta tantum lectissimis coloribus distinguunt."

Shotaye evidently took an interest in the stranger. He, on the other hand, looked up to her from time to time with a terrific grin that was intended for a sweet smile. As often as he turned his face toward her she sought to decipher his real features, which the war-paint rendered utterly unrecognizable.

At last the sandal was fastened again, and the Tehua stood erect. He waved his hand to the west and north, repeated the words, "Cayamo, cuinda," and placed a finger on his lips. She nodded, raised eight fingers, softly uttered "raua, raua, Shotaye," and pointed to the north also. Thereupon he moved away stealthily; but before disappearing in the timber, he turned around once more and waved his hand northward. The woman replied with affirmative nods, and after his form had disappeared she also turned to go. Her eyes sparkled; a gleam of intense satisfaction illumined her features, as with head erect and heedless of the plants she had come to gather, she penetrated deeper into the forest. She now went due east, in a direction opposite to the one the Tehua had taken.

This had been a very remarkable meeting indeed. More than ever, Shotaye believed that she was invulnerable. The Queres of the Rito and the Tehuas, living north of them on the other side of savage mountain-fastnesses, and more than a day's journey distant, were not always on the best of terms. There was no regular intercourse between the tribes, for the speech of one differed from that of the other.

Barter and traffic took place at long intervals; but as not a soul at the Tyuonyi spoke Tehua, and no one at the Puye understood Queres, such attempts at commercial intercourse usually terminated in a fracas, in bloodshed even, and the party offended sought to make things even afterward by waylaying and murdering such of the other side as might chance to wander in the neighbourhood of their abodes. Actual warfare had taken place between the tribes within the time of Shotaye's recollection, and engagements were fought; one party got worsted and ran home, the other went home, too, and that settled the matter for the time being. It was, therefore, not at all safe for an Indian from the Rito to meet one from the Puye, and _vice versa_. Women made an exception, inasmuch as they were exposed only to capture and adoption in the tribe to which their captors belonged. Such compulsory adoption was rendered very easy by the fact that nearly the same clans existed among all the Pueblos. But the Eagle clan, for instance, which the Queres called Tyame hanutsh in their dialect, bore in the Tehua language the name of Tzedoa.

As soon as Shotaye saw into whose hands she had fallen, she felt completely rea.s.sured. Even if she were carried off a prisoner, it was no misfortune. When, moreover, she discovered that the stranger had not even such an object in view, but was after the scalp of some Navajo, she experienced a feeling of delight. When at last the Indian readily understood her suggestions, and went so far as to indicate a day when she should come to him at the Puye, her gladness knew no bounds. In the accidental meeting, all her hopes for relief had been realized. She was now able to save herself by flight to the other tribe, but enough time was left her to provide for the safety of her companion in peril.

She had no hope or thought of becoming the wife of her new acquaintance.

He was probably married; but marriage, as we have seen, was no obstacle to temporary outside friendships. She could take refuge at the Puye without hesitation, and claim the protection of her warrior. In case she afterward felt like tying herself to one man only, there was no doubt in her mind that a domestic animal of the _genus_ husband could easily be found. How often could she have been married at the Rito, had the men not looked upon her as a witch!

The friend whom she had now secured among the Tehuas called himself Cayamo. Thus much she had guessed, and guessed rightly. But would she be able to recognize him after his face was washed and the military undress exchanged for that of civil life? Never mind, she had noted the paintings on his shield, and that was enough. There are no two shields alike in one village; and by uttering the name Cayamo and describing the white escutcheon with a green crescent and four red crosses--a thing easy for Indian sign-language--she could not fail to identify him. That Cayamo would recognize her and acknowledge her acquaintance she did not doubt for a moment. She even hoped to meet him half way on the trail to the village of his tribe, provided the Navajos did not kill the hero.

While she sincerely hoped that he would return safe and in possession of many scalps, there was still a possibility of his own scalp being taken by the enemy. The Navajos were very cunning, and their arrows were tipped with very sharp flint. With all her feelings for her knight, and the reliance she placed on his broad shoulders, heavy neck, strong arms, and well-turned legs, accidents remained possible. In case Cayamo should never return to his native village, what then? Well, he was not the only man among the Tehuas, and that consoled her.

There seemed to be but one dark point in the otherwise bright outlook.

Would she have time to put her plans in execution? Would the Koshare, would Tyope, leave her sufficient respite? Things might have taken place during and after the dance that changed the face of matters and precipitated them beyond remedy. In case, for instance, that the Delight Makers had overturned Say's household as they were wont to overturn others, and had discovered the feathers, was not all hope gone? Shotaye suddenly recollected how Okoya had greeted her that morning,--how surly his glance, how gruff and unfriendly his call. Was that significant?

Still, if the secret had been disclosed, there would surely have been some noise about it the night before. On the other hand, it might be that the council had the case in hand and preferred not to make anything public for the present. What if the council were in deliberation at the very moment, discussing her fate and that of her accomplice? Would it not be safer, instead of returning to the Rito, to follow the tracks of her new friend, Cayamo, and join him on his dangerous errand?

Yes, it would have been safer, provided Cayamo would have tolerated the companionship of a woman. But this he was not allowed to enjoy, and furthermore, what would then become of that accomplice of hers? The latter thought staggered her.

Shotaye was a very strange woman. She was heartless, cold-blooded, merciless, remorseless, in everything that concerned her relations to others. One person only she excepted in her selfish calculations, and that was her accomplice and victim, Say Koitza. Happen what might, she could not forsake Say. She must at all hazards go back to the Tyuonyi, call at her house, and find out from her whether or not anything had occurred that might jeopardize her plans and designs. In case matters were unchanged, she intended to tell her friend the occurrence of the day, giving her at the same time directions for the future.

Shotaye quickened her step, for the road was long. It was not advisable to return by the trail she had taken in coming, for she needed a pretext for running into the abode of Say Koitza as if by chance. At last she noticed the change in the weather and the approaching shower, and thought it a good plan to regulate her gait so as to reach the valley and the big house when the storm broke. She might then seek shelter under her friend's roof and avoid suspicion.

Crashing thunder roared in the high Sierra, and as Shotaye looked around she saw the rain-streaks that swept down on the mesas in advance of the shower. The Sierra de la Jara had vanished in the clouds, and gray fleeces whirled about the flanks of the Sierra de San Miguel. She stood on the brink above the eastern end of the Rito, and began to descend over boulders and crags, and through bushes. Only a part of the valley was visible; in the corn-fields not a living soul appeared. Faster and faster Shotaye ran, regardless of rocks and shrubbery. The western mountains were completely shrouded, lightning tore the clouds, thunder bellowed nearer and stronger. At last she reached the bottom and turned toward the houses, panting, perspiring, but untired. As she pa.s.sed the new house of the Corn clan, the first angry blast of the storm met her, and she had to stop. It filled her with lively satisfaction, however, to see how accurately she had regulated her movements. She might get into the big house almost unnoticed, for the rain began to fall.

At the moment when Hayoue and Okoya found shelter in the caves of the Water clan, Shotaye dashed through the gangway of the building. A tremendous shower was falling, and as soon as she entered the court she was drenched from head to foot, to the great delight of those who, well protected themselves, were standing in the doorways of their quarters.

One single voice called to her to come in, but she took no notice of it.

Blinded by the torrents of falling water, she groped her way along the walls, and finally stumbled into the open door of Say Koitza's home. Not a single thread of her scanty clothing was dry; her hair, soaked and dripping, clung to her forehead and cheeks as if glued to the skin; water filled her eyes, nostrils, and ears. She removed the hair from her brow, shook herself, coughed, sneezed, and looked around. The room was empty, but in the inner cell a fire crackled on the hearth; and Say came out. At the sight of her friend she burst into a hearty laugh, and asked,--

"Where do you come from?"

"Tziro kauash." Shotaye coughed, then in a whisper she inquired,--

"Are you alone?"

Say's brow clouded, and a deadly pang seized her. What meant this query, this call so unusual, so mysterious? In a low, hollow tone she replied,--

"We are alone," and turned back into the kitchen. Her friend's question sounded like a prelude to dismal tidings.

Both women squatted close to the fire. Not a word was spoken. The new-comer was busy drying herself, and the mistress of the house was struck by her rather cheerful looks. Possibly her sad presentiment was wrong. It was almost impossible to talk, except in a very loud tone; for the rain fairly roared, peals of thunder followed each other in quick succession, flashes of yellow lightning quivered outside of the little port-hole. The room itself was very dark.

How often had the two women sat here years ago in anxious doubt, but hopeful at last! How often had Say Koitza complained to her friend on this very spot,--complained of her illness, of the sad outlook before her; and when she began to recuperate how often she told Shotaye about her plans for the future. Now that future had come, and in what shape!

The roaring outside diminished gradually, the thunder sounded more remote. Through the roof of mud and brush rivulets of water began to burst, forming little puddles on the mud floor and dripping on the heads of the two women. Shotaye took no notice of it, but Say moved to avoid the moisture. The roof seemed a sieve, the floor became a lagune.

Shotaye inquired,--

"Have the Koshare been here?"

"They have," the other said, "and they turned everything upside down, but found nothing."

Shotaye drew a long breath, exclaiming,--

"Then everything is right, all right; and you are safe!"

But the wife of Zashue Tihua shook her head mournfully. "No, sa tao,"

she replied, "it cannot save me. I am lost, lost beyond hope."

"Rest easy, sister. Believe me," the medicine-woman a.s.sured her, "you are saved; they can do you no harm."

It rained softly in the court-yard; inside of the room it went on, pat, pat, pat, pat, dripping through the ceiling.

Shotaye resumed the conversation.

"Speak, sa tao," she said; "speak, and tell me what you think. Why is it that you still believe that bad men will be able to do you harm? Don't you know, sister, that you are safe from them now, and that they cannot injure you any more?"

Say Koitza shook her head gloomily and replied, pointing to her ear and eye,--

"Sanaya, what the ear hears and the eye sees, the heart must fain believe."

"Then speak to me; tell me, sa uishe, what it is that your ear has heard, your eye has seen, that makes your heart so sad." The woman spoke softly, entreatingly, as if she was soothing a sick child. But the object of her sympathy sighed, and continued, in the same tone of utter despondency,--

"Sister, had you been present at the ayash tyucotz, when all the people danced and sang, your eyes would have seen what the heart could not approve. I saw my son Okoya Tihua, the child of Tanyi hanutsh, dancing beside Mitsha Koitza, the girl from Tyame; and she is the daughter of our base enemy."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Type of old Indian woman]

"Is that all that causes you trouble, koya?" Shotaye very placidly asked. "Listen to me further, yaya," Say entreated. "This morning I took the boy to task for it, and then I found out that Mitsha is near to him,--nearer than his own mother. I discovered that he goes to see her, and thus gets to the house of the woman of whom they say that she is Tyope's ear and eye, tongue and mouth. What do you say to that, sa tao?"

Shotaye smiled. "Have you ever spoken to Mitsha?"