"Long before I was born," began Running Deer, "the warriors of our tribe
wove bits of red cloth into the manes and tails of their ponies. Each
warrior, decked in brightest blankets and with war-bonnets of eagle
feathers that bound their heads, fell over their shoulders, then trailed
almost to the ground, rode rapidly across the prairie with their quivers
full of sharply pointed arrows.
"White-faced men had come on the land of the Comanches and were taking
possession of our hunting grounds. So word was brought to camp for our
fighting men to go out and protect the game that belonged to the
Indians. The Great Spirit put the game on the prairies that the
Comanches and other Indians might use it for food.
"Like leaves swept by fierce winds the warriors rushed onward. Peta
Nocona, the old chief's young son, rode my mother at the head of the
Quahadas. He was almost a child in years, but a man in daring, and
often the chief gave him the honour of leading the warriors. All at once
in the distance a few specks caught his keen eyes, and he drew my
mother's reins, while all the Comanches halted to talk. Then each
warrior leaned down against the shoulder of his pony, and they raced
until they had formed a large circle around the moving spots. Gradually
closing about them, Peta Nocona led his men.
"My mother said that those in the centre greeted them. It was
Pa-ha-u-ka's band, and with them were a boy and a girl with white skins,
who looked at the Comanches in fear. The girl's hair was long and gold
like the arrows of the sun, her eyes were like the summer sky, her skin
like untrodden snow.
"The son of our chief rode to her side, and when she shrank back in
fear, he smiled and told her that no harm should come to her. She did
not understand his words, for she spoke in a strange tongue, but she did
understand his kindly eyes and voice and smile. So she made no struggle
when he lifted her from the arms of the warrior who was holding her.
Placing her before him on my mother's back, he held her carefully until
they reached our camp."
"Did the white boy come, too?" asked Star as Running Deer paused to take
a bite of grass.
"My mother said that the boy did not come into our camp and she did not
know where he went. Part of the Comanches, who belonged to Pa-ha-u-ka's
band, followed another trail and were gone a long time. But the little
white girl was not unhappy, for she had our chief's son as her
companion. We called her Preloch. All the care that would have been
given to the daughter of our chief was given to her until she reached
womanhood. Then she and the chief's son, Peta Nocona, were married with
great feasting and dancing that lasted many days, and everyone was very
happy for they all loved her and the chief's young son.
"When the old chief, worn with the weight of many winters, slept with
his forefathers, the young chief ruled in his place. There was much
rejoicing when a son was born to Peta Nocona and his golden-haired
squaw, Preloch. They called him Quannah, which, as you know, means
'Fragrant.' Later a little daughter came to them, and her name was
Prairie Flower, for she was so pale and delicate that it seemed as
though a rough hand could crush her, or a strong wind carry her away on
its breast. The warriors honoured and obeyed Peta Nocona, who became a
great War Chief, and the women, children, and ponies loved his white
squaw, Preloch, for her gentle ways. Wherever he went, she rode at his
side, her baby daughter clasped in her arms, while little Quannah
followed closely behind on his pony, often shooting arrows as he rode.
"The young chief had given my mother, Blackbird, to Preloch, and I was a
colt, past two years old, when white men found our camp. I do not know
just what happened, for in the darkness of night Gray Beard, Big Wolf,
and Spotted Leopard led me into a strange place among great trees, and
there we found Quannah waiting us. They spoke earnestly to him, then he
leaped to my back and we dashed away.
"For many days we were alone, except when a warrior came and sat talking
gravely. I heard Karolo, the Medicine Man, tell Quannah one day, that
the white men had taken Preloch and Prairie Flower away with them. Then
he told that his mother had sent a message, bidding her son remain with
his father's people and rule them wisely and justly. She did not want to
leave her son and the Comanche people whom she loved so much, but she
had been made a prisoner by the white men and they were taking her and
her baby away to their own homes."
"Why?" asked Star, wonderingly.
"I do not know," answered Running Deer. "I am telling the story as it
all happened. How could an Indian pony understand the white man's ways,
when the wise men of the tribe did not understand? My mother told me the
story of the little white girl, and I heard what the old warriors said
to Quannah while we hid in the mountains; but I do know that neither
Preloch nor Prairie Flower ever came back to us again, and Quannah never
saw them again.
"That is all I know. Quannah rode me back to camp and when you were born
he gave you to Songbird. You must serve her as faithfully as I have
served him, and as my mother, before me, served his father, Peta Nocona.
The big chiefs also told Quannah that his father, Peta Nocona, had been
killed by the white men as he stood, wounded, against a tree, singing
the Death Song of the Quahada Comanches. So Quannah, his son, became our
chief."
Star thought about the story as he lay beside his mother, and he felt
very sure that he would not make any error in telling it when he had
grown old. The sun peeped over the edge of the world and shot a golden
arrow of light into the pony's eyes, to warn him and the other ponies
that it was time to roll and get up.
It was not an easy thing to roll over. Star had tried it many times, for
his mother had told him that when a pony could roll completely over the
first thing in the morning, it was the sign he was very strong. So now
he stiffened his muscles and tried it, but only got partly over. Again
he tried and failed. But the third time he turned completely over, and
full of pride, leaped to his feet. Then he leaned down and nipped his
mother, who blinked up at him.
"I did it!" he bragged, tossing his head so that the thick black mane
waved like a flag. "Mother, I rolled all the way over, this morning."
"I knew you would do it," she answered proudly as she scrambled up
hastily. "Now you can carry a man."
The two ponies saw the flap of Quannah's tepee lifted, and their ears
cocked sharply. A little girl, about six years old, with large dark
eyes, long glossy braids hanging to her waist, and clothed in a garment
of buckskin, with moccasins of buckskin on her feet, stood in the
opening of the tepee.
"Star!" she called softly yet clearly.
The pony answered with a low nicker of delight, tossed his shaggy mane,
kicked his hind heels and galloped to her side, where he bent his head
that she might pet his nose and pull his ears gently, while his eyes
told her how much he loved her.