By this time the boys had arisen, hastily made their toilets, eaten a
"snatched" breakfast, and were coming forth to witness the ceremonies.
It was interesting to watch the crowd gathering from all directions.
Some who had come to witness the ceremonies had traveled many hundred
miles. There were many Mexicans, not a few cowboys, Indians from various
tribes, ranchers and sports, travelers and women.
While mass was going on in the little white chapel, the Pueblos, for
whose benefit it was said, were busy elsewhere with preparations for the
religious ceremony, in which they have the fullest belief.
The men were in the subterranean _estufas_, dressing their bodies and
performing those secret rites which no white man is ever permitted to
witness.
The women were in the labyrinths of the great pyramids, decking
themselves out in their finest apparel for the celebration, for the
Pueblos had Sunday clothes, and not a few of the garments were rich and
handsome.
Mass was over at last, and then came the procession of the saints.
In the chapel were several images. These were taken up in mysterious awe
by the women present and carried to the door.
Outside the chapel a piece of sheeting was raised aloft on poles by four
Indians to form a canopy to protect the images from the heat of the sun.
The procession moved off toward a little bower of green limbs near the
bigger pyramid.
At the head of the company marched the idiot drummer, beating away with
might and main on his snareless drum.
Close behind him followed two Pueblos, who fired guns as rapidly as they
could load them, presumably to frighten away evil spirits.
Then came the women with the images.
The figures were placed in the little bower, so they might overlook the
field where the races and sports were to take place.
Not far away on a pole at least forty feet high were suspended a sheep,
pieces of bread known as tortillas, and little sacks that were filled
with various kinds of grain.
These were the fruits of the field, and were thus hung as a thank
offering to the Sun Father, by whose grace it was possible to raise
enough to supply the community.
At length the male Pueblos were seen emerging from holes in the ground,
entrances to their subterranean council chambers.
Women and children, bedecked in their handsomest garments, appeared on
the terraces. They wore bright robes and sheepskin leggins, the latter
being white as paper.
Ordinarily these Indians wore clothes in which they could have passed
muster in any civilized community, but now all who were to take part in
the ceremonies appeared stripped to the breechclout, some of which were
fancifully decorated and adorned.
Some of the men had worked red ribbons and skeins of yellow yarn into
their long black hair, and all were painted, although, unlike Northern
Indians, the Pueblos try to please in their appearance, instead of
making themselves as horrible as possible.
Some were half white and some half blue, while others were marked with
geometrical figures. Some were of one solid color from crown to toe.
Not a few of them were adorned with handsome white eagle feathers, and
some had their heads almost entirely covered with downy feathers.
Among the Pueblos the feather is a symbol of prayer. They say the eagle
soars toward the sun at will, and his soft white feathers float upward
on the breeze, like thoughts.
When the eagles are breeding the Pueblos go into the mountains and
capture the young, which are kept in captivity for Saint Geronimo Day.
And so it is that when the Indian decorates himself on this great
occasion with fluttering feathers each feather is equivalent to a prayer
that is constantly ascending to the Sun Father.
To say the least, the idea is poetical.
By the time the sun dance was ready to begin more than fifteen hundred
witnesses had assembled, and more were coming.
Inza and Miss Abigail intrusted themselves to the care of the boys, who
found for them a fine position to witness the celebration.
"Where is Merriwell?" asked the spinster, looking around. "I heard him
talking to you in front of the tent, Inza, but I have not seen him this
morning."
"I believe he is trying to make some arrangements so that the boys may
take part in the sports of the day," answered the girl, quietly.
"Gracious!" exclaimed Miss Abigail. "What a crazy notion! I don't
understand how he can want to have anything at all to do with them
horrid Indians! If the Indians were beaten at any of their games, they
might get angry and kill us all."
"Nefer you been afrait mit dot," said Hans, who had been egged on by
Barney and Ephraim to make one more attempt to win the good will of Miss
Abigail. "Uf they tried dot mit you they vos sure to get left alretty
queek. I vos here, und I don'd let yourself be scalped. Yaw!"
The spinster gave him a look that nearly froze him on the spot.
"You!" she exclaimed. "You would fall all over yourself trying to get
out of the way if you thought there was any danger."
"You don'd pelief me!" cried Hans. "I vos a corker to fight. Somedime
ven dere vos some dangers meppy I peen aple to shown you der sort uf a
heroes vot you don'd know I peen."
This was very amusing to Barney and Ephraim, who were chuckling with
satisfaction.
Frank appeared.
"It's all right, fellows!" he exclaimed, his face glowing with
satisfaction. "I have arranged it."
"Good stuff!" exclaimed Harry. "But what are we going to do?"
"Take part in everything but the religious performances."
"What else occurs?"
"A ball game, races, wrestling match, and so forth!"
"Hurro!" cried Barney Mulloy, in delight. "It's shport we'll be afther
havin' wid th' spalpanes!"
"By gum!" grinned Ephraim Gallup. "It's goin' to be a sight better'n a
circus!"
"I shouldn't have been able to fix it if it hadn't been for John
Swiftwing," confessed Frank. "He did all the business for me."
"Is he going to take part in any of the sports?" asked Diamond.
"Yes."
"Well, he is a dandy. He can run like a deer, and he has the strength of
a grizzly bear."
"Don't I know it?" laughed Frank. "Didn't I find it out when Yale played
Carlisle. He was a perfect wonder among the Indians, and their entire
eleven were bulldog fighters. They were not at all scientific in their
play, but they gave Yale the hottest kind of a fight, and came near
battering a road to victory several times."
Inza did not seem to hear Merriwell's words, and she was giving him no
attention. She had called Hodge to her side, and was speaking to Bart.
As Frank turned toward the girl he heard her say:
"It's a disgrace to civilization that the American Indian is treated in
such a shameful manner! The Indians have been robbed, and deceived, and
butchered, and lied to, till they have no confidence in white men; and
now, because once in a while an Indian imitates a white man and gets
drunk, it is said all Indians are bad! It makes my blood boil to think
of it. John Swiftwing is a specimen of the educated Indian, and he shows
what the government might do with these unfortunates if it tried. I
think the United States ought to be ashamed of itself! I am ashamed of
it, so there!"
Hodge laughed.
"You have grown very enthusiastic over this subject of late," he said.
"It seems to me that all your enthusiasm has been aroused since you
first saw John Swiftwing."
Inza echoed his laugh, but added color came to her cheeks.
"Perhaps you are right," she admitted. "I confess I did not know there
were any Indians like Mr. Swiftwing. He was a revelation to me."
"There are a few like him, but he is not just what he seems, you may be
sure of that, Inza."
"Now stop right there, Bart Hodge! Don't tell me that he is still a
savage at heart. I know better! You can't make me believe that after
seeing all the fine things there are in the East and learning how much
superior the method of living among white men is to the way the Indians
live that a highly intelligent fellow like John Swiftwing could desire
to come back here and live as his people live."
"I shall not try to make you believe it, Inza," smiled Bart, "for I have
learned that it is not an easy thing to change your mind once you have
it set on anything."
"That's so! When I am sure of a thing I'll stick to it."
Frank bit his lip.
"That's right," he thought. "She is the most obstinate girl in the
world. She is jealous, quick-tempered, obstinate and intractable, but
still there is an irresistible charm about her. I should dislike any
other girl of her temperament and disposition, but it is most marvelous
that the more hateful she is the greater is her attraction for me. Who
can explain that? I am sure I can't."
He spoke to Inza, but she did not deign to give him much attention,
continuing her conversation with Hodge, whose eyes twinkled as he saw
there was some sort of a misunderstanding between her and Frank.
"They seem to be quarreling or making up all the time," Bart mentally
observed.
Boomp-boomp! boomp-er-boomp! boomp-er-boomp!
The sun dance had begun, and the drummer was beating out the time with a
curious and ponderous drumstick.
The drum was a big rawhide affair, as large as a barrel, and was carried
by two men.
The men of the two large community buildings had formed in separate
groups, shoulder to shoulder, and, on an open space before the bower
occupied by the images, they began the dance.
This dance was a curious lifting of the feet with a sharp, jerky motion,
and they sang a Pueblo anthem, which sounded like this:
"Hi yo to hoo he yo yah hay yo,
He yah hi yo ye har ye he ho."
This was a song of praise and thanksgiving to the Sun Father, and a
supplication for the continuance of his favor. It was not the hoarse and
discordant yelping of the Northern Indian, but arose and fell in
rhythmical cadences and with an exactness of time that was surprising.
The spectators watched the dance with a curious feeling of interest and
fascination.