When Songbird awoke the next morning, Star had already eaten his
breakfast, so she lost no time in satisfying her own hunger with a bit
of the dried meat and pounded maize, finishing off her meal with a drink
of water from the pool.
Then carefully tying up her bundle and tucking her doll into her belt,
Songbird mounted her pony and started back to the village. She had no
trouble following the trail now, for the ground was not so sandy or
soft. Besides, Star knew his way without any guidance.
When they had left the Quahada village it had been dark, so they had
travelled more slowly. It was late in the afternoon when at last they
neared the hill which overlooked the camp. Songbird knew that all the
women and children would be preparing the evening meal.
She felt very happy knowing that she would be with them safely in a few
minutes, and she knew they would all be glad that Star had brought her
out of the terrible desert. But she was now rather ashamed of herself at
having run away without telling any one of her plans. Then she hoped
that her father had not returned and found her missing, for his anger at
the women would have been terrible, yet they were not to blame at all.
Star loped lightly up the hill and stopped on the very top. Where
Quannah had halted Running Deer and looked down on the village, Songbird
now looked down. Then she gave a startled cry.
All signs of the village had vanished. Where she had left many tepees,
she now saw empty space. Where children had shouted at play, silence
greeted her. Where camp fires had blazed, cold ashes stirred in the
light breeze.
Scarcely believing her own eyes, she urged Star on a run down the hill,
as though hoping the village might be there when she reached the very
spot where the camp had once been. But it was more lonely than even the
desert had been. For out there she had believed that she had a home and
now she had nothing.
Almost frantic, she jumped from her pony and ran to the spot where her
father's tepee had been, calling his name over and over again, and
begging him to come back to her. Nothing familiar met her eyes except
the fire pit and the poles on which she had many times hung her father's
moccasins to dry.
In a frenzy of grief and fear, she flung herself beside the fire pit,
and Star, knowing that something was very wrong, called as loudly as he
could. But no pony answered, and no Quahada woman or child came to
comfort his little mistress who lay sobbing on the ground. So Star could
do nothing but wait patiently.
Songbird's sobs finally stopped, and she raised herself slowly until she
was sitting with her knees drawn up, her elbows propped upon them and
her chin resting in her palms. For some time she sat staring at the top
of the hill, while Star, only a few paces away, nibbling dry roots,
paused frequently to look at her.
"My father came back while I was gone," she said to Star, at last. "He
is angry with me and has moved the camp so that I cannot find him. But I
will look for him until I find him and tell him I am sorry I did not
obey him. I know he will not send me away from him, even though he is
very angry. If he will not let me come into his tepee, I will wait at
the entrance, and maybe some day he will forgive me."
Comforted by this thought, she ate rather sparingly of her food supply.
Then she curled beside the fire pit where her father's tepee had once
stood, and slept until morning, for she was very, very tired.
So soundly she slept that she did not know the coyotes, sneaking about
the deserted camp site, had more than once tumbled over one another to
avoid a sudden dash of an angry pony. Then, when they had sought safety
from his teeth and heels, Star returned to his vigil over his little
mistress.
The sun had not yet peeped over the rim of the world when Songbird and
Star started on their search for the vanished Quahadas. Both of them
watched for signs along the trail, and had no difficulty in finding
where the lodge poles of the tepees had dragged on the ground.
Star also noticed something that puzzled him. No unshod hoof prints
mingled with the Quahada trail, but there were many distinct marks of
shod horses. He remembered that the Big Gray Horse and the Old White
Horse, when they had first come to live among the Quahada ponies, wore
strange metal things on the bottom of their hoofs, and they had told
Star and the other ponies that all the white men's horses wore these
things, which they called shoes.
The Quahada ponies had thought it very strange that the white men's
horses could not travel on sharp rocks with bare feet, as the Indian
ponies always did.
Star had not forgotten this, nor how the two cavalry horses had limped
at first, after the metal shoes had worn thin and finally fallen off in
pieces. However, in a little time the Big Gray Horse and the Old White
Horse had been able to scramble over rough places just as well as the
Quahada ponies could do.
Songbird did not notice all these things as Star did. While they
travelled she kept her eyes on the marks made by the trailing lodge
poles. That was all she cared to know. For wherever the lodge poles led,
she knew that she would find the Quahadas, and that her father would be
with them.
For three days Songbird and Star followed, not resting until the light
was too dim to see the trail. Then they lay down together on the ground
till morning. Wherever water could be found, the pony and the child
drank, but as they had no way to carry water with them, both suffered
from thirst many times. Only dry mud had been left in many water holes,
because of the long drought.
Star's sides shrank until his ribs showed and his hips stood out in
sharp points. Sparse clumps of dry grass constituted his only feed, and
even that had been cropped to its roots by the big band of horses on the
trail that Songbird was following.
Her own supply of food was almost gone. The third night when she opened
her bundle and saw only enough for the next morning, her lips quivered
as she wondered where she could find anything more to eat. Yet the next
morning, after dividing what was left of her food, so as to make two
meals of it, she rose courageously and resumed her journey, always
keeping her eyes on the marks of the trailing lodge poles.
It was late in the afternoon of the third day when Star, looking ahead
from a high bit of ground, saw an object that made his ears cock sharply
and his nostrils distend, as he sniffed the air. Far away something
fluttered at the tip of a white lodge pole. Then he remembered what the
Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse had said about the flag which
protected Indians who were not fighting the white men. Songbird had been
so intent upon the track of the lodge poles that she did not see what
Star had noticed, and when the pony gave a loud squeal and broke into a
wild run, she did not know what to make of his actions.
Down the slight slope he rushed. Then Songbird saw a tall white lodge
pole with something striped in red and white fluttering at its tip. She
did not know what it meant, but she clung tightly to Star's mane as he
ran directly toward a hollow square surrounded with strange buildings,
which were different from anything she had ever seen in her life.
Fast as Star ran, Songbird was able to catch a glimpse of men near these
buildings, and the men had white faces. But Star did not stop until he
stood directly at the foot of the big lodge pole. There, with Songbird
on his back, the pony lifted his head very high and called again and
again, as loudly as he could.
Songbird, bewildered, saw men running toward her from all sides,
shouting to one another. And knowing these were the terrible white men
who had carried Preloch away, and Prairie Flower, too, she bowed her
head, believing that they were coming to kill her.
But as they reached her side, she saw kindly faces, and heard voices
that were not harsh or threatening. One man spoke to the others, who
listened respectfully. Then another man led Star between a row of
buildings, which Songbird stared at, half frightened, half curious.
Back of these long buildings, which were made with places where men
looked out at her, she saw a great line of the familiar Quahada tepees,
and in front of the very largest one stood her father, who started
toward her, calling her name.
Like a flash, Songbird jumped from Star's back, past the men who watched
her, and then she was in her father's arms. She knew that he was not
angry with her, and nothing else mattered now. She had heard his voice
and had seen his joy, which this time he had not tried to hide, even
though he was the chief of the Quahada Comanches.