Songbird was not the only one who was lonesome. Star, too, had been left
in camp, where only a few ponies, whose knees were too stiff, or whose
backs were weak from age, kept him company. Although he was no longer a
colt, he hated to be away from his mother and friends. Even the Big Gray
Horse and the Old White Horse had been taken with Quannah.
Star had heard Quannah say to Songbird, "He is your pony. I have enough
without him, for I will take the Big Gray Horse to ride if Running Deer
grows tired. So I will leave Star with you."
Three weeks after the warriors had left the village, Star wandered up to
the big tepee and poked at the entrance with his nose. Songbird lifted
the flap and stroked his nose, for she had heard him coming. Then she
dropped the flap again, as she did not want any one to see what she was
doing.
First she took pieces of dry buffalo meat and tied them together in a
bunch, then she laid them carefully in a large square of buckskin. With
them she placed some of the little cakes made of pounded meat and nuts,
and as she glanced around she saw a prayer-stick, which she laid on the
other things. The four corners of the buckskin were then drawn together
and bound securely by a twisted thong.
After these preparations she took her doll and tucked it into the belt
that held her robe at the waist. It was now almost dark.
She went out of the tepee and mingled with the other children, until
they scattered for the night. Then Songbird returned to the tepee and
sat alone, her arms about her knees, and her eyes staring steadily
beyond the raised flap at the dim outline of the hill over which her
father had ridden.
Satisfied, at last, that no one would notice her, she slipped cautiously
from the tepee and made her way to where Star was stretched out among
the old ponies. A hobble was on his front ankles, so that he would not
stray during the night.
Songbird unfastened the hobble and thrust it into the bundle she was
carrying, and Star rose to his feet. His head bent for the bridle in her
hand. She did not mount the pony, but led him away from camp without
arousing any one. Then clutching the bundle which she had prepared in
the tepee, she climbed to Star's back and turned his head in the
direction in which her father had led the warriors.
She had no fear that she would not be able to find them, for she knew
their ponies would make a plain trail, and though she could not see it
herself, Star would know and follow it. The Great Spirit taught ponies
how to do that.
It was the memory of Preloch, who had ridden beside Peta Nocona when he
had gone to fight the white men, that made Songbird determine that she
would find her father and ride with him. She could shoot arrows as well
as any large boy, and she could ride much better than most of them.
If her father told her that she could not stay and fight, she would
remind him that the little boys who had frightened the white horses had
not been any older than she was now. So she had brought her bow and all
the arrows that she had been saving for a long time, and when she found
her father she would show him that she was not a baby. She had her bow,
her arrows, food to eat, and Star, who could out-run any other Quahada
pony except Running Deer.
So she rode while it was dark, trusting Star to keep the trail. When the
sun rose, the hoof prints of unshod ponies could be seen distinctly,
though in some places the wind had stirred dry sand over them.
As a slight rise in the ground gave her a chance to look back, Songbird
saw nothing moving, and felt quite sure that no one in the village had
yet discovered her absence. Knowing that only slow old horses remained
in the camp with the squaws, she hastened on her way, determined to lose
no time in putting as many miles as possible between herself and any who
might try to follow her.
It was only when the sun was low in the sky that Star and his little
rider halted beside a shallow pool that had once been a deep water-hole
in a swiftly running stream.
While Songbird lay on her face and drank her fill, Star, a short
distance away, thrust his hot nose into the water and gulped greedily.
Then he turned his attention to some green grass that had grown about
the edge of the pool, in spite of the drought, while Songbird, sitting
beside the water-hole, munched a piece of dry buffalo meat and one of
the little cakes made of pounded corn and nuts that she had packed for
her journey.
As the sun sank beyond the edge of the land, Songbird, weary but not
afraid, lay down on the ground to sleep. Star, hobbled carefully to
prevent his straying far, stretched near her. He did not sleep.
At the least sound he lifted his head and pricked up his ears, while he
peered with bright eyes into the night. He knew that coyotes might be
prowling close, and he was ready to leap to his feet and fight them with
his strong teeth and nimble heels if they came where his little mistress
slept so soundly. Once in the night she woke. He heard her move, then
suddenly she called in a half-frightened voice:
"Star!"
His soft nicker answered that he had not left her, and he rose to go
close to her. When he settled down again, Songbird's hand rested on his
shoulder and her head was pillowed on his neck. Her other hand held her
doll.
Thus the sun saw them when it peeped over the opposite edge of the
world the next morning. Then it shot golden arrows silently, and
Songbird's eyes opened. For a few minutes she wondered where she was,
but as Star twitched a little she raised her head quickly and sat up,
rubbing her eyes sleepily.
Star lost no time in getting on his feet. He had kept very still so that
he might not disturb her, and it felt good to move about. Songbird
reached down and unfastened the hobbles that held his front feet so that
he could take only short steps of about eight inches, or hop with both
front feet at the same time. As soon as he was free he lay down and
rolled over three times without stopping, kicking his heels in the air.
It was easy to roll over now that he was so strong and fully grown.
It did not take long for the two wanderers to finish breakfast. A drink
of water from the pool, and food such as they had eaten for dinner the
previous night, satisfied them both. After that, Songbird slipped the
rawhide bridle on Star, picked up her doll and carefully brushed the
dust from it, then tucked it safely into her belt. Mounting her pony,
she started again on her way to find her father.
But the trail became more faint, and a hot, dry wind blew dust into her
eyes. As the sun rose higher the wind became stronger, and at last
nothing but a haze of yellow dust could be seen. Star plodded on, but at
intervals he whinnied shrilly, hoping to hear an answer through the dust
storm. Only the sound of the wind and the hiss of blowing sand came back
to him.
All day they travelled in the sandstorm, and Songbird dropped the rein
on her pony's neck, not knowing which way to guide him. The wind died
down at sunset, but when the haze of dust lifted, Songbird faced a
stretch of desert, where only tiny clumps of dry weeds showed here and
there, half-buried by the heaped up sand that formed small mounds about
each weed.
She knew then that she was lost on the Great Desert of the Staked
Plains, where no white man could venture and come out safely, and where
even the best trailers of the Quahadas travelled only when the warriors
had no other way of outwitting their pursuers.
As she sat on Star, looking at the endless sand, all the stories she had
heard the older people tell about the suffering from thirst on the
Staked Plains came back to her. They had spoken of lost trails where
the sand had shifted and buried all traces even in one hour. There had
been a Quahada runner, who, lost for five days without water, had found
his way back to camp but had died before he could swallow the water that
the Indians held to his lips.
Songbird knew that there was no water on this desert except when the
rain fell heavily, and then it gathered only for a short time in a
hollow, for the hot sun and the dry sand soon made it disappear. This
summer there had been no rain.
Since leaving the pool that morning, Songbird and Star had found no
other water, but she had hoped that the trail of her father would lead
to some. He knew all the country and just where to find water each night
for his warriors and ponies. But the terrible dust storm had blinded her
and the wind had blown the loose sand over the Quahada trail.
Her eyes grew big with fear, and her shoulders, which had been held so
bravely when the sand storm beat upon her, now drooped as though a heavy
weight were placed on her neck.
Miles and miles of silence and loneliness threatened her on every side.
Her head sank forward until it rested on Star's shaggy mane, and her
arms clung tightly about his neck. There was no one to remind her that
she was the daughter of a chief. Only Star and the Great Spirit heard
the sobs of a frightened, lonely little child.
But at last she raised her head, and sat thinking intently. Then she
turned Star's head in the opposite direction. That morning when she had
wakened, she remembered now, the sun had shone in her eyes, and she had
travelled toward it until it was straight above her head.
Songbird knew that the village must lie in the same direction as the
sunset. If Star could take her to the water pool once more, she could
find her way to the Quahada camp. She understood now the risk of trying
to follow her father, and that made her decide that she would try to
return to the camp and stay there until he should come back.
The tracks made earlier in the day by Star's feet were already
indistinct, as the loose sand did not hold an impression very long, and
the faintest wind hid it completely. Beyond the desert a trail remained
distinct for a long time.
It was growing dark. Songbird was so tired that she wanted to cry again,
but she blinked her eyes fiercely, reminding herself that her father
was a chief. As they travelled toward the place where the sun set, she
took a piece of the dry meat from her bundle and started to chew it. But
she was so thirsty that it choked her. So she put it back uneaten.
Hopefully she looked about for a sign of a mesquite bush, knowing that
she could quench her thirst by chewing the beans that grew in pods from
the branches. But lack of rain had kept any beans from forming, and she
remembered that the mesquite bushes near the camp had yielded no crop.
Only a bit of shrivelled desert brush, half buried in the sand, met her
eyes as she rode.
A terrible fear conquered her, and she struck Star's sides sharply with
her moccasined heels. At once he swung into an easy, swift lope, his
ears cocked and his eyes fixed straight ahead of him. Songbird did not
try to guide him now, but allowed the rein to lie loosely on his neck,
while she balanced herself to his movements.
At times the pony slowed down to a walk, but he did not stop, and
Songbird did not have to urge him to resume his quicker gait. Where she
had guided him earlier in the day, he now went of his own free will.
Some instinct beyond that of any human being told Star which way to go.
More than once Songbird, too sleepy to sit erect, laid her head on
Star's neck, where the thick mane made a soft pillow. Then the pony
walked very slowly and very carefully while Songbird slept. Once she
slipped from his back to the soft sand. Though it wakened her at once,
the fall did not hurt her, and as she lay on her back, staring up, she
saw Star standing beside her. Patiently he was waiting for her to climb
on his back. Then Songbird knew that her pony would not desert her, even
though it were dark and he wore no hobbles.
So through the long night Star carried her safely. With the first gray
light of dawn, the pony gave a soft nicker of pleasure, and broke into
his swiftest run. Songbird leaned down and patted his black neck. Ahead
of them loomed a group of trees, and she knew, as well as Star, that the
trees grew beside the water-hole.
When they reached it, both pony and child drank as though they would
never stop. Songbird bathed her face and held her arms in the water,
while Star walked out to the deepest part of the pool and stood there
heaving great sighs of content.
Afterward, still standing knee deep in the pool, he stretched his neck
so that he could nibble the grass growing on its edges while Songbird
ate the dry meat that no longer choked her.
Then, side by side, Star and Songbird lay down to sleep.
Only the buckskin Indian doll guarded them, but its painted eyes glared
so fiercely that it would have taken a very brave person to have
ventured near!