Kagigegabo sat in front of the wigwam watching the fire slowly die out.
Her heart was full of bitterness. For days she had watched the Braves get
ready for the long chase. They had painted their faces; they had given
their war cries; they had fasted and prayed.
And now they had gone and the camp seemed very still. Oh! how she had
wanted to go! Why was she born a girl when she did want to be a Brave!
Girls could never do brave things--they had to stay at home, and tend the
fires, and hoe the garden. Everything a girl had to do, she hated.
Everything a boy had to do, she liked. Her name was Kagigegabo, which
meant "One who stands forever." That would be a great name for a Brave,
but she could never do anything that was worth while. She was only a
girl.
Slowly she rose to bring the corn and grind it. There was little needed,
for the Braves of the wigwam had all gone--even Guka, her brother, had
gone. Before this she had watched the others go and then had had him to
cheer her. Oh, dear! Why was she a girl?
Hearing a step behind her, she rose to find Wicostu, the oldest squaw of
the tribe, waiting to speak with her.
"I have heard your thought," she said. "You think that to be a girl is to
be less than a Brave. It is not so. It is not so. To be a squaw one must
be very brave. We cannot go to hunt and to kill, but it takes no less of
courage to stay here and guard the tepees. It takes courage to bear
pain--it takes courage to be tired and not complain. You can be brave,
Kagigegabo, even though you must grow into a Mahala and sit by the fire.
The courage is not in the war paint and feathers--the courage is all in
the heart."
Kagigegabo sat very still after Wicostu had left her. Over and over she
said to herself those last words of the old squaw--"The courage is all in
the heart." Perhaps after all she could be a Brave, such as Guka was
trying to be.
Down toward the spring she ran to get the water for the meal when,
suddenly, a hand reached out of the bushes, and she was drawn into them.
When she tried to scream, a heavy band was placed over her mouth, and then
her hands were tied, her eyes were bandaged and she felt herself being
thrown on a pony. Oh! how fast they went!--like the wind it seemed.
Who had taken her? Where was she going? What did they want? Frightened as
she was, she still was trying to think.
Then, like a flash, there came to her something that she had heard the old
chief say when she had been trying to get closer to the council fire the
last night.
"We shall go by the hill trail, for Eagle's Claw will surely have spies
about the camp. We cannot get through the valley alive."
Perhaps she had been taken by the spies and was on her way to the enemy
camp of Eagle's Claw. Oh! What did they want? If only she were a Brave,
perhaps she would know what to do. Then there came to her the words of
Wicostu:
"You can be brave. The courage is all in the heart." But to be brave when
one did not know what was going to happen--oh! that was hard.
When the bandage was taken from her eyes, she was in the center of a
circle of old Braves. Very fierce they looked as she glanced about the
circle. Her knees shook till it seemed she must fall. Then she made a low
bow to the chief and pointed to her feet--a sign that she was ready to be
his slave.
"Do you see that knife?" he screamed at her. "You shall die unless you
tell us by what path and to what place your Braves went to-day. Speak!"
What should she do? If she told, the men would die. If she kept silence,
she must die. Her hands trembled. Then she remembered again the words of
Wicostu, "Courage is all in the heart," and smiling at the chief she
said:
"Kagigegabo will lead you. She knows not the name, but the way."
For a long time they counseled. Should they go? At last five of the Braves
were ready. They mounted her on a pony. Then they came to her with a great
bow and some poisoned arrows and said:
"If you try to escape, these are for you. If you lead us wrong, these are
for you. If you lead us right, you shall have this young Brave," and they
led forth one of the strong, young Braves of the tribe. "Go."
Out of the encampment went the six horses. Where should she go? She must
lead in the way of the hill. But how could she? Once she climbed a tree to
get a look out and so gained a little time. Once she led them where the
rock dropped sheer and bare, and again she gained time. But nearer and
nearer to the meeting place she came.
Suddenly low at her feet she saw a tiny, white flower. It was the one used
by her mother to make the sweet drink that would make one sleep, and
sleep, and sleep. But if too much was taken, it meant death. A daring plan
came to her mind. Dare she do it? Dare she eat of it? Mother brewed
it--she must eat it as it was. They were still several hours from where
she knew her father was to be found. If her plan succeeded, she could
save him.
Reaching down, she dug her feet into the sides of the little pony.
Immediately his heels went high in the air and she lay flat on the
ground.
Quickly she gathered much of the little white flower and pushed it into
her dress. Then when the men came, she was lying with broken ankle on the
ground. The pain was intense, but the happiness that they must stop was
sweet to the girl. Over and over and over she said to herself, "Courage is
all in the heart. I can be a Brave."
She took some of the little white flower and began to eat of it.
"What is it?" said the men. "What do you eat?"
"I eat the sweet flower of this little plant. If you eat of this, you
shall not thirst," said the girl.
Now they had ridden far and hard and the day was very warm, so when the
men heard this, they bent and gathered bits of the plant. It was sweet and
pleasing to the taste, so they ate more and more of it. And the Indian
girl watched them and smiled when none could see.
It was decided to get the evening meal while the oldest chief bound the
ankle of the girl. So they hurriedly cooked it. But before it was ready,
the leader leaned against the old tree and he was asleep. Then another and
another slept. Stronger than opium had been the flower that they had
eaten.
* * * * *
Kagigegabo watched them while her own eyes began to droop. She must not go
to sleep. Oh! what could she do? She must ride when they were asleep. What
could she do? She turned and twisted the broken ankle. That helped a bit,
for the pain was intense. She pulled great locks of her hair and tied them
about her fingers so that the blood would have to force its way about. And
after what seemed to her to be hours, she was still awake and the five
men were all sleeping.
Slowly, very slowly, she pulled herself away from the fire out into the
bush where her pony was tied. Her feet seemed determined not to move and
she wanted so much to lie down and sleep. But she kept on till she had led
the pony away from the group. Then she mounted and started on her ride.
But it was no use. She could not stay awake. Now what was she to do? They
were on the direct road to the valley. For a moment she hesitated. Then
quickly she tore her dress in strips. Taking a sharp stone, she cut her
arm and with the blood she made two pictures on a piece of wood--the one
showed five Indians asleep--the other showed an Indian girl by the road.
Taking the strips from her dress, she fastened the bit of wood to the
saddle.
She took from her arm the circle of brass which would tell her father from
whom the message had come, and fastened it to the saddle. Then a cut of
the whip across the legs sent the pony flying down the path.
After he had gone, the girl sat in a dazed way near the path. She was so
tired. If only they would hurry, then she could tell them which way to
go--but sleep came before the pony had gone even one mile.
Five days later, Kagigegabo opened her eyes slowly and looked about. She
was lying on the skins in the wigwam of her mother. Her ankle was tightly
bound and she felt very stiff and sore. Across her wrist there was an ugly
cut. No one was about so she lay there trying to remember what had
happened. How long had she been there and where was her mother?
A step sounded outside and an old war chief--her father--looked anxiously
into the tent. When he saw her eyes open, he came slowly in and gazed
long at the Indian girl on the bed and then went as slowly out again.
When he came back, there were with him five other chiefs. Around the bed
they stood in a silent circle and Kagigegabo wondered what they were going
to do with her. Had she done wrong? Was she to be punished?
But the old chief spoke:
"Kagigegabo, you have saved the tribe from ruin, and because of your help,
we have captured the enemy, for whom we were searching. They have told us
of your bravery and of your wisdom. You were more full of courage than any
squaw we have ever known. You shall no longer be called Kagigegabo, but
you shall be called Aotonaka, the daring one."
Then upon the arm of the girl who had wished she could be a Brave they
bound a red band--the red band of courage.