THE LEGEND OF THE THUNDER BIRD
Immediately after lunch Mr. Phipps hastened off and the boys returned to
the veranda to form their patrol. Herb Phipps was acclaimed chairman and
the meeting was on.
"First thing's nomination of officers," announced the chair. "Shoot in
some names, yuh guys!"
"The patrol leader's got to be a first-class scout," grinned Gray.
"Stand up, Windy! I move the nom'nations be closed!"
"Here, hold on!" Fred sprang up at once. "I'll only be here a few weeks,
kids. What's the use? One of you had better--"
"Aw, beat it." "Sit down!" "Cut it out!" came from the others. Dunk
gained the floor.
"Second the nomination, Mr. Chairman! Let's make Windy leader while he's
here, anyhow."
"All in favor?"
"Aye." And Fred was elected. Carlito was then put up against Gray for
assistant, but the New Yorker promptly withdrew and the young Apache got
the honor. The boys were then sworn by Fred and Gray together, and the
patrol was a fact.
"What we goin' to call her?" asked Fly. Various titles were proposed and
voted down but finally Carl came across with "The Thunder Bird Patrol."
This was greeted with a yell of delight, and was chosen without delay.
"Oh, Windy!" called Jerry from a swing at the other end of the veranda.
"Chase out to the kitchen and tell Hop Sing to give you the rattler
lariat, will you? This swing needs tying up."
Fred promptly rose and vanished, suspecting nothing. At Fort Bayard the
men had a standing joke on all tenderfeet. They sent them all over the
fort asking for the "rattler lariat"--which is slang for whiskey--and as
whiskey is a thing forbidden at the fort, the unhappy tenderfoot usually
ended up under arrest. The crowd on the porch expected that Hop Sing
would catch the joke as he had done before, and send Fred out to the
bunkhouse or corral to some of the men who would send him on farther.
"Thought mebbe it'd be good for him," grinned Jerry in expectation.
"Windy's pretty solid, but he's liable to get the notion that being from
the East he knows 'bout everythin' that's--Wow!"
The speech ended in a startled yell. Jerry and Fly had been sitting in
the vine-shaded swing at the end of the porch, and from the vines beside
them came an unmistakable rattle. Jerry took one flying leap, lost his
balance, and crashed into Dunk's chair. Fly followed him so closely that
he tripped and all three rolled headfirst into Carlito. At the same
instant there was a rustle among the vines and Herb jumped to the wall,
where a revolver was hanging.
"Don't shoot!" came the laughing voice of Fred. As he poked his head
through the vines a shout went up and Fred came around the corner of the
veranda. "Pretty slick," he laughed, as Jerry scrambled up. "Hop Sing
put me wise, though!"
"Say, did you make that blamed rattle?" inquired Fly uneasily.
"Sure," grinned Windy, holding up a string of rattles. "Hop gave me
these and showed me how to use 'em."
"Oh, what I'll do to that Chink!" groaned Jerry as the crowd shouted
with laughter. But just then Hop Sing appeared with a platter of
doughnuts as propitiation, and peace was made.
During the afternoon Fred and Gray measured the others for their
uniforms. These would consist of the breeches, puttees and coat, the
latter being only necessary for trips up into the mountains where it was
chilly. A complete list of everything that was wanted was made out and
given to Herb, who would hand it over to his father to be ordered at
once.
"Ever see a cliff dwelling, Windy?" asked Dunk, after they had been
measured.
"No," answered Fred. "Any 'round here?"
"Sure," cried Fly eagerly. "Feller over at Silver City has a tame
one--built it himself! Collects two bits each from tourists to see it."
"Shut up!" laughed Dunk, and fired a pillow at Fly. "There's a mighty
good bunch of 'em over north of the post, Windy. Five or six real old
Mojaves there too. Make baskets and stuff to sell. S'pose we ride over
there to-morrow, fellows."
This proved agreeable to all save Fly, who was to help his father with
some work. So it was arranged that Herb and Gray should come over early
for the others and all would take a trip who could do so.
"Tell your dad," said Jerry to Herb, "that we'll start work Monday. This
is Tuesday. If our uniforms ain't here it won't matter."
"Monday night, then," replied Herb. "I can't see what there is to do
'cept just sit around and keep an eye on the sheep all night. We'll
prob'ly scatter all over the range."
The party returned to the garrison in time for dinner. All were in high
feather at having actually formed a patrol. When the news spread around
the fort that evening it met with general approval.
"Good for Phipps!" exclaimed Captain Crawford, at dinner. "Guess we can
spare you chaps some service revolvers if you want 'em. How about it,
Gerald?"
"Fine!" cried Jerry delightedly. "Sure we want 'em."
"We won't really need them, I s'pose?" asked Fred.
"You may," returned the captain. "Especially if you're going up against
that sheep-destroyer of Phipps'. Looks to me like it was some cattle men
from the ranges over beyond the Circle B. P. If it is you'll have to
pass it up. If it's some animal or other, go to it!"
Herb and Gray arrived before the sunrise gun boomed next morning, and
after a hasty breakfast the party rode to the northwest. They soon found
themselves among the hills that bordered the river, and about ten
o'clock Carlito halted them.
"See that cliff yonder?" Jerry pointed to a steep ascent that rose above
the low water across the river. Halfway up could be seen a crumbling
ruin from which rose a trail of smoke. "There's a cliff dwellin', Windy.
Looks like old Tommy's home too."
"Tommy's the only Mojave there who can talk any English," explained Dunk
as they splashed through the river. "We'll leave the horses down here
an' hike up."
Leaving the ponies to graze along the river bank the boys began the
ascent of a well-worn path. It had been hollowed out in places and made
easier for visitors, so that they had no difficulty in reaching the
cliff dwellings on the ledge. As they did so, Fred, who had followed
Carlito closely, saw two wrinkled and blanket-clad Indians with a couple
of fat squaws, seated over a small fire. One of the chiefs was hideously
tattooed on the forehead and chin, and the women were heavily ornamented
with strings of many-colored beads and gaudy pendants. Two of them wore
large brass earrings. All had a miscellaneous supply of brass buttons
distributed over their blankets.
"Hello, Tommy!" called Jerry cheerfully as he gained the ledge. "Better
bring over some more stuff! We've got some new people at the post. Sell
some baskets easy."
The eldest Mojave shook his head without looking up. "No tadavia," he
returned. "No got. Nex' week, mebbe. All gone."
"You fellows show Windy over the place," said Carl. "I'm going to talk
to Tommy." Squatting down beside the other Indians, he broke into a
flood of Mexican.
"Come on, Windy," laughed Dunk. "Carl ain't got no use for us now."
At first Fred was somewhat disappointed in the cliff dwellings, or what
was left of them. Only part of the walls were standing in many cases,
the roofs having caved in, the remainder of the buildings being
surrounded by fallen rocks and mortar.
"I suppose these are a good many hundred years old," he said as he
stepped into one of the better preserved caves which the Indians had
taken possession of. There was a rounded hole in the center of the stone
floor where the inhabitants had ground their corn, and this was still in
use by Tommy and his friends. All the arrow heads and broken pottery had
been taken away by previous visitors, but the walls were inscribed with
strange characters, the sign language of the vanished race. Queer
animals of all sorts drawn in crude fashion, mingled with figures of
dogs, snakes and mysterious marks of their own, were among the rough
drawings.
Very little light came in through the narrow door and single small
window, and when Fred emerged and stood at the edge of the terrace the
bright sunshine made him blink his eyes, and the fresh beauties of
nature were a strange contrast to the dark, dusty interior of the cliff
house. They were now far above the river, which could be heard below.
Opposite was a low hill or two and beyond the hills the blistering
yellow and red of the desert. They were facing the garrison, which was
hidden by the hills. Behind them lay the mountains, and to the west a
far-off snowy peak was just visible around the corner of the ledge.
"She's fifty miles away," said Herb, as he pointed to the latter. "Looks
about ten, eh? Seems like yuh could toss a stone into them hills
yonder."
Fred had not yet become used to judging distances in this country, where
the atmosphere was wonderfully clear. It seemed almost incredible to him
that the mountain was so far away. He would have liked more time to
explore other of the cliff dwellings, for the strange sights held his
interest, but the other boys, who had been over the ground many times,
seemed to be growing impatient, and they all returned to where Carl was
still talking to Tommy. They stood behind the silently working Indians,
whose faces were as expressionless and inhospitable as their bent backs.
"Just see 'em weave," exclaimed Fred, as the large but deft fingers
wound in and out through many colors of straw.
"And listen to Carl and that Indian jabber," he continued. "I didn't
know they could talk so fast."
"Oh, the Indians around here are partly civilized," said Jerry, who had
been watching with them. "As long as they can get good trade for their
baskets and beadwork, and do some swapping now and then, they seem
satisfied."
Carl finally ended his conversation with Tommy, and springing to his
feet, in true Indian fashion, he joined the other boys and sat down to
eat the lunch which they had brought with them. After Fred had induced
Tommy to part with a beaded buckskin knife sheath for a dollar, all
returned down the winding path to the river.
"Well, I've got some red-hot news for you," announced Carlito, as they
left the river behind and headed back through the low hills toward the
fort.
"Yuh must 'a' got it from Tommy, then," returned Herb. "Yuh ain't done
nothin' but jabber Greaser to him and old Alche-say. What's on your
mind?"
"Why, Tommy's the oldest buck anywhere around here," replied Carlito. "I
thought maybe he'd give me some dope on the Thunder Bird. I don't know
anything but what I heard when I was a little kid, but I got him to
loosen up. Want to hear it?"
"Sure," cried Dunk, and drew back his pony beside Carl. "Come on back
here, Windy! Slow down, Jerry. Now we're fixed."
"What I told you before," began Carlito when all were riding in a bunch
around him, "was true enough. Deputies from the tribes met twice a year,
spring and fall. This was all long before the white men ever showed up.
Tommy says--and he ought to know if anyone does--that somewhere up in
the mountains north of here was the shrine of the Thunder Bird. It seems
that there were three medicine men who kept an altar for offering
sacrifices to the Thunder Bird three times a year, and there were great
festivities in which the people took part. One year there was a big
scrap on between the Navajos and some of my own people. While the
deputies were worshipping at the altar that fall, somebody said
something, and the Apache delegates pulled out hidden knives and killed
a Navajo. It was a rule that no weapons were allowed on the sacred
place, and no sooner had the blood been shed than the Thunder Bird came
down in a big-storm and killed the whole bunch with his lightning
arrows."
"And that's the kind of a monster we have to fight!" exclaimed Fred.
"Oh, well, that's the way Tommy told it. I suppose they really got
struck by lightning. Anyhow, everyone was killed, even the medicine men,
except one brave who crawled away with the news and died. It was a
sacred law that no one could visit the shrine in the daytime except
during the sacrifices. Everybody was scared to go after the bodies until
next spring. Then some medicine men tried it. They got about halfway
when the Thunder Bird flew down in the dark and beat them off the path.
After that it was said that the Thunder Bird was angry; so the sacred
spot was left alone and gradually forgotten. Each tribe of Indians
worshipped him at home, and the old custom was passed up. Tommy says
that nobody knows now even where the sacred spot is. When he was a boy
an old man told him it was on a high peak in the mountains, but hidden
by some rocks and boulders so nobody could find it. It's all a legend
now."
"That's funny," exclaimed Jerry, as Carlito paused. "How did the Thunder
Bird knock those chaps around that way?"
"Search me," responded the Apache. "He says the Thunder Bird was angry
at having his shrine profaned with blood and wouldn't let it be used
again."
"Sounds a whole lot like the Thunder Bird was after them sheep, Herb,"
laughed Dunk. "Better get us medicine men's outfits, Carl! We may need
'em!"
"I think we'll need six-guns more," replied the Apache gravely.
"Gee, it's goin' to be a real adventure," exclaimed Fred, his bright
eyes snapping. "But how are we goin' to start?"
"Well, if the Thunder Bird lives up in the mountains, why not try and
find out where he roosts?" suggested Herb.
"Anyhow, while we're waiting for our uniforms, we might take Fred on a
little hunting an' fishing trip up in the mountains, and mebbe do some
investigating on the side," added Jerry.
"And talk over how we're goin' to get at the sheep stealer," went on
Fred.
So it was decided that on Monday the boys would go for a hunt and map
out their plans. But they did not know what was to happen in the
meantime to help solve the problem for them.