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_From_ where _had these attacking Indians come? Out of a long
forgotten and dim past? Had their medicine man seen the one supreme
vision?_
the
hohokam
dig
_by ... Theodore Pratt_
At first they thought the attack was a
joke. And then they realized the truth!
At first the two scientists thought the Indian attack on them was a joke
perpetrated by some of their friends. After all, modern Indians did not
attack white men any more.
Except that these did.
George Arthbut and Sidney Hunt were both out of New York, on the staff
of the Natural History Museum. George was an ethnologist who specialized
in what could be reconstructed about the prehistoric Indians of North
America, with emphasis on those of the Southwest. He was a tall, lean,
gracious bald man in his early sixties.
Sidney was an archeologist who was fascinated by the ruins of the same
kind of ancient Indians. Medium-sized, with black hair that belied his
sixty-five years, he and George made an excellent team, being the
leaders in their field.
They had come west on a particular bit of business this spring, trying
to solve the largest question that remained about the old cliff dwellers
and the prehistoric desert Indians, both of whom had deserted their
villages and gone elsewhere for reasons that remained a mystery.
One theory was that drought had driven them both away. Another theory
ran to the effect that enemies wiped them out or made off with them as
captives. Still another supposition, at least for the Hohokam desert
people, the builders of Casa Grande whose impressive ruins still stood
near Coolidge, had to do with their land giving out so they could no
longer grow crops, forcing them to go elsewhere to find better soil.
No one really knew. It was all pure guesswork.
* * * * *
The two scientists meant to spend the entire summer trying to solve this
riddle for all time, concentrating on it to the exclusion of everything
else. They drove west in a station wagon stuffed with equipment and
tracking a U-Haul-It packed with more.
George drove, on a road that was only two sand tracks across the wild
empty desert between Casa Grande Monument and Tonto National Monument
where cliff dwellers had lived. It was here, not far ahead, in new ruins
that were being excavated, that they hoped to solve the secret of the
exodus of the prehistoric Indians. The place was known as the Hohokam
Dig.
They topped a rise of ground and came to the site of the dig. Here the
sand tracks ended right in the middle of long trenches dug out to reveal
thick adobe walls. In the partially bared ruins the outline of a small
village could be seen; the detailed excavation would be done this summer
by workmen who would arrive from Phoenix and Tucson.
George stopped their caravan and the two men got out, stretching their
legs. They looked about, both more interested in the dig, now they were
back at it, than setting up camp. They walked around, examining various
parts of it, and the excitement of the promise of things to be
discovered in the earth came to them. "This summer we'll learn the
answer," Sidney predicted.
With skeptical hope George replied, "Maybe."
It was early afternoon when they set up camp, getting out their tent
from the U-Haul-It. They took out most of their gear, even setting up a
portable TV set run on batteries brought along. They worked efficiently
and rapidly, having done this many times before and having their
equipment well organized from long experience. By the middle of the
afternoon all was ready and they rested, sitting on folding chairs at a
small table just outside the opening of their tent.
Looking around at the dig Sidney remarked, "Wouldn't it be easy if we
could talk to some of the people who once lived here?"
"There's a few questions I'd like to ask them," said George. "I
certainly wish we had some to talk with."
He had no more than uttered this casual wish than there sounded, from
all sides of where they sat, screeching whoops. The naked brown men who
suddenly appeared seemed to materialize from right out of the
excavations. As they yelled they raised their weapons. The air was
filled, for an instant, with what looked like long arrows. Most of them
whistled harmlessly past the two scientists, but one hit the side of the
station wagon, making a resounding thump and leaving a deep dent, while
two buried themselves in the wood of the U-Haul-It and remained there,
quivering.
George and Sidney, after the shock of their first surprise at this
attack, leaped to their feet.
"The car!" cried Sidney. "Let's get out of here!"
They both started to move. Then George stopped and grabbed Sidney's arm.
"Wait!"
"Wait?" Sidney demanded. "They'll kill us!"
"Look," advised George, indicating the red men who surrounded them; they
now made no further move of attack.
George gazed about. "Oh," he said, "you think somebody's playing a joke
on us?"
"Could be," said George. He ran one hand over his bald head.
"Some dear friends," Sidney went on, resenting the scare that had been
thrown into them, "hired some Indians to pretend to attack us?"
"Maybe Pimas," said George. He peered at the Indians, who now were
jabbering among themselves and making lamenting sounds as they glanced
about at the ruins of the ancient village. There were eighteen of them.
They were clad in nothing more than a curious cloth of some kind run
between their legs and up and over a cord about their waists, to form a
short apron, front and back.
"Or Zunis," said Sidney.
"Maybe Maricopas," said George.
"Except," Sidney observed, "none of them look like those kind of
Indians. And those arrows they shot." He stared at the two sticking in
the U-Haul-It. "Those aren't arrows, George--they're atlatl lances!"
"Yes," said George.