Little Rabbit was a young Pueblo brave who lived a very happy and
carefree life. There was nothing very special about Little Rabbit unless
you were to say that his spirits were never dampened by a sad turn of
events. When something went wrong and people were unhappy, Little Rabbit
usually found his way to their side, and would offer words of
encouragement.
The village in which Little Rabbit was born was like all the Pueblo
adobe villages of centuries before him. Little Rabbit had to climb a
ladder in order to enter his home, because all ground floor rooms had
only a roof entrance. By pulling up the ladder at night, families made
their homes hard to enter.
Little Rabbit had once watched several families make an adobe building,
several levels high. The walls were made of a mixture of yellowish clay
and sand, called adobe; the roofs were made of a heavy layer of the same
adobe laid over a strong frame of log beams, crisscrossed with poles,
willow branches, sticks, grass, and desert brush. The Spaniards had
taught the Pueblos how to mold the adobe into bricks. Small holes were
made for windows and doorways. Each family had one large room, and the
ground floor room (without windows or a doorway) was used by all the
families for storage, initiation of the boys into secret societies, and
for religious ceremonies.
Because each floor was set back the depth of the room below, each level
had a porch which was used by the Pueblo women for making corn bread,
pottery, and baskets, and by the men to weave rugs and blankets. When
religious ceremonies, dances, and games were taking place, these porches
gave the whole family the best possible point from which to watch.
Such was the village in which Little Rabbit had grown to the age of
twelve, a strong and tall young brave.
One day he had just finished playing some running games with his friends
and was returning to his home when one of his friends called to him,
“Come, Little Rabbit, we are going to walk the ledges.”
Now walking the ledges was a very difficult game and, most of the time,
was forbidden by the parents. But occasionally some of the more daring
young braves, willing to chance their necks, would organize a game of
ledge walking. The idea was something like “Follow the Leader,” but far
more dangerous. The boys would walk right on the edge of the roofs—along
the first floor and, if successful and daring enough, along the second,
and then along the third floor roof. As the boys went higher, fewer and
fewer would take part; a fall from any one of the roofs would be bad,
but a fall from the second or third could cause great injury or even
death.
Now Little Rabbit was not a coward, but he hesitated to play the game
because his father had told him that he was not to go without his
father’s permission, and Little Rabbit knew that this was one game his
father would not permit him to play. So with sadness in his heart he
shouted back to the other boys that he had work to do, and continued on
his way home.
Several days passed, and each day a few of the older boys would gather
to walk ledges, and each day they would ask Little Rabbit to take part,
and each day Little Rabbit would say no. Finally it got to be too much
for even Little Rabbit. The next time he was asked he answered yes, and
soon was playing the very dangerous game.
The boys had all completed the first ledge of the round floor and were
starting for the second. Just as Little Rabbit reached the second ledge,
a voice called out, “Little Rabbit, my son, what are you doing?”
The rest of the braves scattered, but the surprise at hearing his
father’s angry voice near by frightened Little Rabbit for a moment, and
he lost his balance. He tried to straighten up, but went tumbling down
the side of the dwelling. He managed to break his fall by grasping at
the ladder but was not able to hold on. When he landed, his leg was
doubled under him and a sharp pain shot through his body, and then he
fainted.
When Little Rabbit awoke, he found he was stretched on his own bed, and
his father and mother were standing over him.
“I am sorry, my son,” his father said softly. “I did not mean to startle
you so. But I was afraid for you, and the fear in my heart gave
harshness and anger to my voice. If I had waited until you were safely
over the edge and then called to you, this terrible thing might not have
happened.”
“Do not blame yourself,” said Little Rabbit. “It is I who made the
mistake. I disobeyed my father. I am truly sorry for that. If I had not
been doing something wrong, I would not have been startled when you
called. It was a foolish thing for me to do. I let the other boys tease
me into playing. It would have been braver for me to tell them no. Truly
I am ashamed, my father.”
“You must rest, my son. Your leg has been badly injured. When you have
rested we shall talk of this.” With that, Little Rabbit’s father left
the house to continue his work.
For many days Little Rabbit lay in pain from his hurt leg; but more than
his leg, his heart and mind were hurt from the unhappiness he had
brought to his father by disobeying. He tried to talk with his mother
about how he felt but all his mother would say was, “Do not worry so,
Little Rabbit. Your father has forgiven you.”
But this was not what concerned Little Rabbit. His father now had to
carry on the work of farming the corn and brans and cotton all alone for
the family. This made Little Rabbit feel very unhappy. He wanted to do
his share of the work, and he liked to see crops grow.
His leg began to heal, and soon Little Rabbit was able to hobble around
with the aid of a stout staff. He began to help around the house as much
as he could. Before long, he was able to limp out to the garden after
his father and work a little there, too.
Many moons passed and his leg healed and became strong. But it was
twisted so that when Little Rabbit walked or ran he would limp rather
badly. The other young braves felt sorry for Little Rabbit. Even though
he could move about rather easily with his twisted leg, he really could
not keep up with the other young braves in the many games they played.
Soon he found that he was not being asked so often to play the really
exciting games.
One day as Little Rabbit was seated in front of his home, his father was
returning from the garden. As he came to where Little Rabbit was seated,
he stopped and spoke gently.
“Why do you sit here so sad and forlorn, my son? Always you have been
gay and happy, but lately you have become quiet and sad. Tell your
father what it is that troubles you.”
And so Little Rabbit explained that because he could not keep up with
them in the games of speed and skill, the other boys no longer invited
him to play.
“My son, if you are going to sit here and let your life pass you by
because your leg will not obey every command it is given, you will soon
become very unhappy and bitter. You will be of no use to anyone, even
yourself. You must turn your thoughts to other things. If you cannot run
fast, you must practice. If you cannot jump, you must practice.”
“I have tried, my father, but it seems to do no good. My leg is strong,
but the way it is twisted causes me to limp. If I try to run my leg
bends under me. I have tried day after day but it is of no use.”
“You cannot sit here and think of the world as a sad, unhappy place.
Such thoughts will make your leg feel even more twisted than it really
is. You must be thankful for your opportunity to raise yourself to be
more than just an ordinary Indian brave. You have a battle inside
yourself now that calls for great courage and wisdom. How you will
overcome it I do not know, but you must try, my son.”
That night Little Rabbit could not go to sleep because he was thinking
about what his father had said. Maybe he had not been working hard
enough to make his leg do what he commanded. Tomorrow he would try
harder.
And so every day Little Rabbit practiced very hard. For many hours each
week, he would exercise his leg. Finally one day he awoke feeling strong
and fit. After breakfast he went forth from his home to find his friends
for a game. When he located them, they were beginning a foot race which
would take them around the village. Without waiting to be asked, Little
Rabbit trotted into line just as the race started. The other boys were
off to a big lead, but that didn’t worry Little Rabbit. He remembered
what his father had said and, with each running step, he repeated the
words, “I must try.”
The race was going strong. Soon, to his own surprise, Little Rabbit
began to pass the other boys one after another. What he had lost in
ability, he made up in stamina—the strength to go on and on. His many
days of practice were now proving valuable. As the other boys began to
tire and drop back, Little Rabbit passed the leading young brave. Then
he began to widen the gap between himself and the next runner until
nearly one hundred paces separated him from the second place runner when
he crossed the finish line.
When all the runners had come panting to the finish line, they gathered
around Little Rabbit, slapping his shoulders and congratulating him upon
his victory. Finally, one of the young braves asked, “How did you manage
to stay so fresh to the very end?”
“Well, you see,” said Little Rabbit quietly, “when I fell from the ledge
that day and broke my leg, I was sure that I was being punished for
disobeying my father’s wishes. After my leg healed and I began to play
again, I found that I could not keep up with you in your games. Once
again I thought that I was still being punished. But my father told me I
must try harder. This brought me courage. Once again I began practicing
every day to learn to run and jump even though my leg was twisted. I do
not have the skill that I used to have, but I now have endurance which
may stand me in very good stead later on as it has here today.”