Now the glance of Sidney and George at each other was quick, their eyes
lighting.
"I'll take it down on the typewriter," Sidney said. "Think of it! Now
we'll know."
He led Huk to the table set in front of the tent, where he brought out a
portable typewriter and opened and set it up. He sat on one chair, and
Huk, gingerly holding his aspergill before him as though to protect
himself, sat on the other.
Good Fox, Moon Water and the other Indians crowded about, curious to see
the machine that came alive under Sidney's fingers as Huk began to
relate his story. Soon their interest wandered in favor of other things
about the two men with white skin. They wanted to know about the machine
with four legs.
George opened up the hood of the station wagon and showed them the
engine. He sat in the car and started the motor. At the noise the
Indians jumped back, alarmed, and reaching for their atlatls. Moon Water
approached the rear end of the car. Her pretty nose wrinkled at the
fumes coming from it and she choked, drawing back in disgust. "It is
trying to kill me," she said.
Clearly, she did not approve of an automobile.
George cut off its engine.
Over Good Fox's shoulder hung a small clay water jug hung in a plaited
yucca net. George asked for a drink from it and when he tasted it and
found it fresh it was wondrous to him that its water was hundreds of
years old. He brought out a thermos, showing the Indians the modern
version of carrying water. They tasted of its contents and exclaimed at
its coolness. Good Fox held the thermos, admiring it.
"Would you like to have it?" asked George.
"You would give it to me?" the handsome young Indian asked.
"It's yours."
"Then I give you mine." He gave George his clay water jug and could not
know how much more valuable it was than the thermos.
George then took them to the portable television set and turned it on.
When faces, music, and words appeared the Indians jerked back, then
jabbered and gathered closer to watch. A girl singer, clad in a gown
that came up to her neck, caused Moon Water to inquire, "Why does she
hide herself? Is she ashamed?"
The standards of modesty, George reflected as he glanced at the lovely
nude form of the prehistoric Indian girl, change with the ages.
Of the people and noises on the TV screen Good Fox wanted to know quite
solemnly, "Are these crazy people? Is it the way you treat your people
who go crazy?"