As Star travelled contentedly beside his mother in the days that
followed, other Indian tribes crossed the trail of the Comanches, some
of whom came from the far north. They had seen the white men, whom they
called soldiers. Sometimes there had been fighting.
Kiowa riders often rode strange ponies into Quannah's camp and rested
for a few days. While the Indians talked with Quannah and his braves,
the ponies of the strangers told the Comanche ponies about the big bands
of white men, all dressed alike, riding very large horses, many of which
were almost twice as big as a small pony.
"These men do not carry bows and arrows like the Indians, but have
shining sticks that roar like angry buffaloes and which spit fire that
kills any Indian or pony it touches," explained a pony from the Kiowa
Indians' camp.
Running Deer shivered and looked at Star, as she said, "My mother saw
such men. She called them soldiers, and she, too, spoke of the sticks of
fire that slew our braves and our ponies, though they were so far away
that arrows could not reach them."
The ponies stopped talking as they saw Quannah and a Kiowa messenger
reach the herd. Star cocked his ears so that he might hear all that was
said. Running Deer touched her big colt with her nose, to remind him
that he must keep perfectly quiet, for Quannah's hand rested on Star's
mane and the chief looked at him with serious eyes while the Kiowa
Indian talked in a low voice. At first Star could not understand what
they said, but in a short time he heard more distinctly.
The Kiowa brave was speaking. "Our Medicine Man, who is so wise and good
that the Great Spirit talks to him, has told our Big Chief that we must
drive these white people from our land, so that none of them shall ever
come back. Then the antelope and buffalo will belong to us, our ponies
will roam where the grass grows most thickly, and our people will be
happy and thrive."
"I wish to live peacefully with the white people. My mother was of their
race," answered Quannah slowly.
"The white men will not dwell peacefully with the Indians. Many times
our fathers' fathers moved to avoid conflict, but the white men have
always followed and whenever they found us they have warred with us,"
the Kiowa interrupted angrily. "Even now they are gathering in great
bands, and making ready to sweep upon us from all four sides of the
earth at once, hoping to scatter us like dry leaves before a windstorm.
Soon we shall be driven to the edge of the earth. Then only the cold
ashes of our camp fires will be left to tell the places where our
children once dwelt."
"Yes, that is true," the Chief of the Quahadas spoke, and his head sank
so that his chin rested on his breast, while his eyes were fixed on the
ground. "My mother, Preloch, bade me rule the Quahadas wisely. If I war
on the white men, they will come in still greater numbers, and my tribe
will suffer. But the white men killed my father and took my mother and
sister away. My mother did not want to leave us, and she sent word to me
by old Moko, the Picture-maker, that she would try to escape from the
white men and come back to me. Maybe she is dead now. When the sun
shines on the winter snow, no one can bring it back. But the moisture
sinks into the heart of the earth where the flowers are born. So though
my mother has never come back to me, the memory of her words lives in my
heart. I wish to rule my people wisely and help them. Maybe it would be
best not to fight. I will ask my warriors. What they say, that will I
do!"
When the Quahadas had gathered about their chief and the Kiowa
messenger, the Kiowa spoke quickly.
"My chief sent me to ask whether Quannah, Chief of the Quahadas, will
join us and lead your tribe to help us save our people from the white
men who will kill the Comanches and Kiowas, take our children and squaws
captives, and laugh at our humiliation. Shall I go back and say to my
chief that Quannah, Chief of the Quahada Comanches, is a squaw because
his white blood is afraid to fight his mother's people who stole her?"
Quannah's eyes flashed angrily, and he flung out his hand while he
replied, "Tell your chief that I and my warriors will fight against the
white men because we must save the game and grass and protect our women
and children. That is all. Go!"
Star and Running Deer watched the Kiowa messenger leap on the strange
pony's back. Then, with a shrill call, the rider was lost in a cloud of
dust that arose from the swiftly running pony, while Quannah, surrounded
by his warriors, looked after the vanishing Indian.
"Why should the white men drive us from our camps?" asked Star as he
turned to his mother. "We do not drive the Kiowas from their camps, and
the Comanche ponies graze beside the ponies of other tribes, for there
is grass enough for us all."
"White men are different from ponies," answered Running Deer. "That is
all I know. Maybe the white men war among themselves and destroy each
other's camps, and carry away the women and children as prisoners."
During that evening, when the shadows grew longer and darker, and the
huge campfire sent shafts of light like golden arrows between the trees,
the warriors gathered in consultation.
Their faces were very stern as they seated themselves on the ground in a
half circle, while Quannah and the Medicine Man faced them. The Medicine
Man was very old. The face he lifted toward the stars was wrinkled, his
raised hands trembled, and the words he spoke to the Great Spirit asked
that help might be given the warriors so that the grass and game might
be saved for the tribe.
While he was speaking, coyotes yelped from the darkness beyond the light
of the camp fire, and Star, standing very closely against his mother,
twitched nervously and kept looking backward to see how near the coyotes
might be. All the ponies understood that a band of coyotes would chase
any pony if it were alone, and if they overtook it, they would tear it
to pieces. So when a bunch of coyotes came near the pony herd, the mares
surrounded the colts in the very centre of the group, keeping their
noses closely against the colts, and the mothers would lash out their
heels and protect them. But fear of a band of coyotes never died as the
colts grew older.
"The warriors are holding a War Council now," Running Deer told Star.
"Our wise old Medicine Man will tell them what the Great Spirit tells
him. Then he will bless them that the strength of the Great Spirit may
enter their hearts and help them conquer their enemies and save the game
and the grass."
Through the night the fire burned brightly, while the Comanches sat in a
large circle talking together. Star, waking many times, lifted his head
that he might watch the warriors who faced the Medicine Man and Quannah.
Once the pony half rose to his feet, but Running Deer kicked at him as
she lay beside him.
"Lie down and be quiet," she whispered angrily. "It is not dawn yet. You
will waken the other ponies and they are weary. What is the matter with
you to-night?"
"I want to go back to Songbird, Mother," he answered. "If the white men
find the camp they may take her away as they took Quannah's mother and
sister, and she may never come back again!"
"Quannah would follow them and get her back. He loves her more than
anything else," Running Deer said.
"But all the Comanche ponies are here with us," Star went on anxiously.
"If I go back to her, she could ride swiftly from the white men, if
they try to capture her."
"Stop talking so foolishly," snorted Running Deer. "Quannah is wiser
than you are. He will guard her from harm. Go to sleep at once, for we
have many miles to travel yet."