The days that followed were the happiest of Songbird's life. Not only
was she with her father and the rest of her people once more, but she
knew that there would be no more fighting between the Quahadas and the
white men. Quannah had given his pledge of peace, and now the white
people were his friends.
Little white children, dressed in clothes that seemed strange to
Songbird, came to the Quahada camp and brought things that were very
nice to eat. It did not take long for the Quahada children to rush
eagerly and greet these visitors, though of course not one Quahada child
could understand what the white children were saying. But that made no
difference.
Sometimes the white mothers came, too. They brought clothing like the
things the white children wore, and the Quahada squaws were much pleased
when they saw their own youngsters dressed in the new finery, with shoes
and stockings on their feet.
While the young Comanches walked awkwardly in their new things, or
talked among themselves about the toys that had been given them,
Songbird sat apart, silent but happy. A wonderful doll with real yellow
hair, and blue eyes that closed in sleep sat primly beside her, but a
dirty buckskin Indian doll was more often hugged to Songbird's breast.
Then one great day Songbird was taken to play with two children in the
home of an officer. They brought toys and games, and she watched each
thing they did, trying to act in the same way. Her father had told her
to watch and learn to be like the white children, now.
After a little while she stopped playing and listened to the most
beautiful sounds she had ever heard. Then she rose to her feet and moved
softly toward the room from which the music came.
Standing by the door she stared at one of the ladies who was seated
before a big box that had a great many teeth, and as her fingers touched
these white, shining teeth, the Spirit in the Box sang sweetly.
Wide-eyed with wonder, Songbird listened without moving. She heard in
the music the wind blowing through trees, the noise of the stream, the
song of wild birds and the cry of the Thunder Bird.
The music stopped, and the lady, turning suddenly, saw the child in the
doorway. Smiling, she beckoned Songbird, who came forward shyly. The
little brown hand was lifted by the white, ringed hand of the lady.
Songbird's fingers were pressed on the teeth of the box that sang, and
as it spoke to her, Songbird's big, black eyes sparkled with joy, while
her solemn little face lighted with a smile.
Then the lady motioned her to a chair, and for a long time Songbird sat
listening to the singing of the Spirit in the Box. All this she told her
father when she went back to his tepee. Each day after that when she
went to play with the children, the mother of the children first took
Songbird to the room where the Spirit in the Box sang for her.
And each day her father talked to her, telling her that she should learn
everything that the white people knew, even how to make the Spirit in
the Box sing when her fingers touched it.
There were many councils between Quannah and his head chiefs with the
big white chiefs. But there was no more talk of war among the Quahadas.
And one day Quannah told Songbird that they were free to go and build
their camp again. Songbird did not tell him that she did not want to
part from her new friends, but he understood her wistful face.
"I will come back many times to see them," he said, "and you shall come
with me. Our new camp will not be far away from here."
So she was happy again. And the next day the Quahadas set busily to work
taking down all the tepees and preparing to move to their own camping
grounds. Songbird and Quannah did not spend these last hours with the
Indians, for they were in the home of an officer.
After they had all eaten lunch together, the officer led the way to the
front porch. There, before the house, stood a soldier holding the Big
Gray Horse by its bridle, and on its back was a cavalry saddle.
"The horse and bridle and saddle are gifts to you from General
Mackenzie," the officer said to Quannah, and an interpreter, who knew
how to speak both the white men's language and that of the Comanches,
repeated it to the chief.
The officer spoke again. This time he looked at Songbird and smiled,
while the interpreter said, "The officers give Quannah's daughter the
black pony which carried her into Fort Sill."
Then Quannah and Songbird noticed a soldier leading Star to the gate.
Star's little mistress ran down the porch steps and did not stop until
her arms were about the pony's neck.
When she was on Star's back, and Quannah had mounted the Big Gray Horse,
Songbird saw her father hold out his hand to the officers who had
gathered about them. Very gravely she did the same thing. None of the
officers smiled as they took her small, brown hand, for she was a
daughter of a great chief who had won their respect as a soldier and as
a man.
Side by side Quannah and Songbird went slowly along the gravel road in
front of the officers' homes; but when they had reached a point directly
opposite the tall white lodge pole where the flag fluttered gracefully,
Quannah reined the Big Gray Horse, so that it faced the lodge pole.
Songbird did the same.
Her father lifted his hand, as she had seen the men and officers do many
times. Without understanding, and without hesitation, Songbird, too,
raised her hand and saluted the flag.
Her father smiled approval, then he said: "That is the flag of the
Great Father, and we are his children now. It is as my mother, Preloch,
would wish; and it is best for me, for you, and for all the Quahadas.
The white men are our brothers. Together we shall dwell in peace."
So they rode to the place where their new camp was to be built, not far
away from the garrison. Quannah explained, as they rode, that the
buffalo hunters could not come there to fight the Quahadas, and that
there would be food enough for the Indians, and that now the white
soldiers would be their friends. He told her how he planned to make his
people understand the white men's ways, their children to learn the
things that white children were taught, and then, some day, maybe, he
could bring back Preloch and Prairie Flower. For the officers had told
him, through the interpreter, that his mother and sister were both dead.
Little Prairie Flower had lived only a short time after reaching the
home of the white people, and Preloch, grieving constantly for her son,
had died a year later, so the mother and the baby had been buried among
the white people.
The officers who had told him this had shown their sympathy in their
faces, and when Quannah asked if they thought that some day he might
bring his mother and sister back to sleep among their own people, the
officers had all been sure that the Great Father would think it was just
and right.
Then Quannah and Songbird reached a little knoll where they had a view
of a wide sweep of prairie land, broken by the outline of trees along
the banks of a stream. Sitting silently on their horses, father and
child gazed at the place where a new era was to dawn for their people.
Star's nose rubbed the neck of the Big Gray Horse, but his friend paid
no attention to him. He was too busy watching a distant object which
Star had not seen. Then, he, too, saw a slowly moving black pony. Its
head hung dejectedly and it stumbled wearily as it approached them.
Star's loud, shrill call caused the black pony to stop suddenly and
fling its head high, while it gave answer. Neither Quannah nor Songbird
tried to check the swift pace of the Big Gray Horse and Star, as, side
by side, they raced joyously to meet Running Deer.
When they met, Star pawed the ground in his delight, and his mother kept
nipping his shoulder with her teeth to tell how glad she was to find
him. Later, as she trotted beside him, when Quannah and Songbird again
rode forward, Running Deer told her colt how she, returning to camp with
Quannah, had found that Star and Songbird both were missing.
After the white soldiers had captured and taken Quannah and all the
braves and women and children to the garrison, Running Deer, assured now
that her master would not need her for some time, stole quietly from the
garrison one night to search for Star and Songbird; for Star was very
dear to her, and she had noticed, too, how Quannah, when alone, grieved
for his beloved daughter who was lost. She had come back to the Quahada
camp and waited there several days, feeling sure that Star and Songbird
would return. When they did not, she continued on her way to find them,
and finally came to the Great Desert of the Staked Plains. With
sorrowing heart she had reluctantly turned her steps back to the
garrison, for now she knew not where to search for them on the vast,
trackless sand plains; and she herself was weak and lean from thirst and
hunger. Imagine, then, her joy upon finding Star and his little mistress
safe and happy. But neither Star nor Running Deer knew that they alone
were left of the once great Quahada pony herd. All the others were dead.
As the sun went down that evening, Quannah and Songbird, with the Big
Gray Horse, Running Deer, and Star, reached the place where the new
village was to be built. Back of them, on the road, the Quahadas toiled,
but the eyes that watched the setting sun were hopeful. They knew that
it would rise again to-morrow.