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      In this text, some place and personal names were printed
      with a macron over a vowel or vowels. These are shown
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THE FLUTE OF THE GODS

by

MARAH ELLIS RYAN

Author of "Told in the Hills," "Indian Love Letters," "The Soul of
Rafael," etc., etc.

Illustrated by Edward S. Curtis







[Illustration: "BY THE ARROW I HAVE SAID IT!" _Page 120_]



New York
Frederick A. Stokes Company
Publishers

Copyright, 1909
By Frederick A. Stokes Company
All rights reserved
September, 1909




THE FLUTE OF THE GODS




PREFACE


In romances of the aborigines of the so-called New World there is
usually presented savage man or woman modified as may be by the
influence of European mythologies in various authorized forms. But,
certain people of this New World possessed at least a semi-civilization
centuries before the coming of white conquerors.

When man ceases to be nomadic, builds houses of stone and mortar,
terrace upon terrace,--walled and fortressed against the enemy,--when
he has fields of growing grain, textile fabrics, decorated pottery, a
government that is a republic, a priesthood trained in complex ritual,
a well stocked pantheon, a certain understanding of astronomy and
psychic phenomena, he may withal be called barbarian, even as was
Abraham on Moriah barbaric when the altar of his god called for
sacrifice of his only son. But a people of such culture could not with
truth be called savage.

The tale told here has to do with these same historic barbarians. That
there is more of depth to the background of American Indian life than
is usually suggested by historians has been made clear of two tribes
by Dr. Le Plongeon in his _Sacred Mysteries of the Mayas and Quiches
11500 Years Ago_. Similar mysteries and secret orders exist to-day in
the tribes of the Mexicos and Arizona. In certain instances the names
and meanings of offices identical with those of Yucatan survive, to
prove an ancient intercourse between the Mayan tribes and those who
now dwell in the valley of the Rio Grande. The Abbe Clavigero left
account of a thousand years of the history of one tribe as transcribed
by him from their own hieroglyphic records. Lord Kingsborough may have
been far astray with his theory that the people of America were the
Lost Tribes of Israel, but the researches embodied in his remarkable
_Antiquities of Mexico_, demonstrated the fact that they were not a
people of yesterday.

As to historic notes used in this tale of the more northern Sun
worshipers: Cabeza de Vaca, the first European to cross the land from
the Mississippi to Mexico (1528-1536), left record in Spanish archives
of Don Teo the Greek. Casteñada, historian for the Coronado expedition
(1540-1542), left reluctant testimony of the worse than weird night in
one Indian town of the Rio Grande, when impress was left on the native
mind that the strong god of the white conquerors demanded much of
human sacrifice. In that journal is record also of the devoted Fray
Luis, of whose end only the Indians know. In _Soldiers of the Cross_
by Archbishop Salpointe, there is an account of a god-offering made in
1680 (after almost a century of European influences), warranting the
chapter describing a similar sacrifice on the same shrine when the
pagan mind was yet supreme and the call of the primitive gods a vital
thing.

It is yet so vital that neither imported government nor imported
creeds have quite stamped it out. Only the death of the elders and the
breaking up of the clans can eradicate it. When that is done, the
Latin and the Anglo-Saxon will have swept from the heart of the land,
primitive, conservative cults ancient as the Druids.

With thanks to the Indian friends who have helped me, I desire
especially to express my obligation to Edward S. Curtis, whose
wonderful volumes of _The North American Indian_ have been an
inspiration, and whose Indian pictures for this book of mine possess a
solid value in art and ethnology far beyond the mere illustration of
text.

                                                              M. E. R.




CONTENTS

      I. THE WOMAN FROM THE SOUTH                                    1
     II. THE DAY OF THE SIGN                                        11
    III. OF THE JOURNEY OF TAHN-TÉ                                  18
     IV. WHITE SEEKERS OF TREASURE                                  29
      V. TAHN-TÉ AMONG STRANGERS                                    42
     VI. TAHN-TÉ--THE RULER                                         56
    VII. THE SILKEN SCARF                                           63
   VIII. THE STORY BY THE DESERT WELL                               74
     IX. YAHN, THE APACHE                                          103
      X. SHRINES OF THE SACRED PLACES                              111
     XI. THE MAID OF DREAMS                                        124
    XII. COMING OF THE CASTILIANS                                  137
   XIII. A PAGAN PRIEST IN COUNCIL                                 167
    XIV. THE COURIER AND THE MAID                                  201
     XV. THE GIVING OF THE SUN SYMBOL                              221
    XVI. THE TRUE VISION                                           244
   XVII. THINGS REVEALED ON THE HEIGHTS                            252
  XVIII. THE BATTLE ON THE MESA                                    262
    XIX. THE APACHE DEATH TRAP                                     271
     XX. THE CHOICE OF YAHN TSYN-DEH                               289
    XXI. THE CALL OF THE ANCIENT STAR                              298
   XXII. "AT THE TRAIL'S END!"                                     306
  XXIII. THE PROPHECY OF TAHN-TÉ                                   319
   XXIV. THE BLUEBIRD'S CALL                                       329




ILLUSTRATIONS

  "BY THE ARROW I HAVE SAID IT!"                        _Frontispiece_
                                                           FACING PAGE
  THE ONE TOWN OF WÁLPI                                              3
  THE PRAYER TOKEN                                                  15
  BLOOD-RED STARS IN THE GREEN OF HIS CROWN                         19
  TO DON RUY, A MESSAGE IN THE MOONLIGHT                            65
  THE PLACE OF THE PALMS                                            95
  THE PRAYER OF YAHN TSYN-DEH                                      109
  YAHN AT THE GRINDING STONE                                       113
  KA-YEMO                                                          119
  THE SIGNAL FIRE TO THE MOUNTAIN GOD                              125
  AND REACHED HIS HANDS TO HIS BROTHERS--THE STARS                 129
  THE MAID OF DREAMS                                               131
  STRAIGHT TO HIM DRIFTED THE BLUEBIRD'S WING                      135
  A LONELY FIGURE DESPITE HER TROPHIES                             139
  TAHN-TÉ STEPPED FORWARD                                          179
  THE PAGE                                                         199
  INTO THE KIVA OF COUNCIL THEY DESCENDED                          207
  ONE GIRL WAITED AT THE PORTAL                                    245
  IN CASTILIAN WAR DRESS HE STOOD                                  257
  SHE LED HIM UP THE ANCIENT STAIRWAY                              283
  ONLY A WITCH LED TO DEATH                                        311
  "BACK! THING OF THE EVIL ONE!"                                   325
  TAHN-TÉ; THE OUTCAST                                             327
  ONLY A TRAIL ACROSS THE DESERT SANDS                             333




THE FLUTE OF THE GODS
CHAPTER I

THE WOMAN FROM THE SOUTH


Aliksai! In Tusayan the people were living! It was the year after the
year when the great star with the belt of fire reached across the sky.
(1528.)

The desert land of the Hopi people stretched yellow and brown and dead
from mesa to mesa. The sage was the color of the dust, and the brazen
sky was as a shield made hard and dry by the will of the angry gods.
The Spirit People of the elements could not find their way past that
shield, and could not bear blessings to Earth children.

The rain did not walk on the earth in those days, and the corn stood
still, and old men of the mesa towns knew that the starving time was
close. In the kivas fasted the Hopi priests, the youth planted prayer
plumes by the shrines of the dying wells, and the woman danced dances
at sunrise, and all sang the prayers to the gods:--and each day the
store of corn was lower, and the seed in the ground could not grow.

In the one town of Wálpi there were those who regretted the seed
wasted in the planting,--it were better to have given it to the
children, and even yet they might find some of it if the sand was
searched carefully.

"Peace!" said old Ho-tiwa, the Ancient of the village, and the chief
of Things of the Spirit. "It is not yet so bad as when I was a boy. In
that starving time, the robes of rabbit skins were eaten when the corn
was gone. Yet you see we did live and have grown old! The good seed is
in the ground, and when the rain comes--"

"When it comes!" sighed one skeptic--"We wait one year now,--how many
more until we die?"

"If it is that you die--the rain or the no rain makes no change--you
die!" reminded the old man. "The reader of the stars and of the moon
says a change is to come. Tell the herald to call it from the
housetops. This night the moon is at the big circle--it may bring with
it the smile of the glad god again. Tell the people!"

And as the herald proclaimed at the sunset the hopeful words of the
priests who prayed in the kivas, old Ho-tiwa walked away from the
spirit of discontent, and down the trail to the ruins of Sik-yat-ki.
All the wells but that one of the ancient city were useless, green,
stagnant water now. And each day it was watched lest it also go back
into the sands, and at the shrine beside it many prayers were
planted.

So that was the place where he went for prayer when his heart was
heavy with the woe of his people. And that was how he found that which
was waiting there to be found.

It was a girl, and she looked dead as she lay by the stones of the old
well. As he bent over to see if she lived, the round moon came like a
second sun into the soft glow of the twilight, and as it touched the
face of the girl, the old man felt the wind of the south pass over
them. Always to the day he died did he tell of how that south wind
came as if from swift wings!

[Illustration: THE ONE TOWN OF WÁLPI _Page 1_]

He called to some men who were going home from rabbit hunting in the
dusk, and they came and looked at the girl and at each other, and drew
away.

"We have our own women who may die soon," they said: "Why take in a
stranger? Whence comes she?"

No one had seen her come, but her trail was from the south. She wore
the dress of a pueblo girl, but she was not of their people. Her hair
was not cut, yet on her forehead she carried the mark of a soon-to-be
maternity--the sacred sign of the piñon gum seen by Ho-tiwa when he
went as a boy for the seed corn to the distant Te-hua people by the
river of the east.

"I come here with prayer thoughts to the water," said the old man
noting their reluctance,--"and I find a work put by my feet. The
reader of the skies tells that a change is to come with the moon. It
is as the moon comes that I find her. The gods may not be glad with us
if our hearts are not good at this time."

"But the corn--"

"The corn I would eat can go to this girl for four days. I am old, but
for so long I will fast,--and maybe then the gods will send the
change."

So the girl was carried to his house, and the women shrank away, and
were afraid--for the clouds followed the wind swiftly from the south,
and the face of the moon was covered, and at the turn of the night was
heard the voice of a man child--new born of the strange girl found by
the well in the moonlight. Ho-tiwa in the outer room of the dwelling
heard the voice--and more than the child voice, for on the breath of
the wind across the desert the good rain came walking in beauty to the
fields, and the glad laughter of the people went up from the mesa, and
there was much patter of bare feet on the wet stone floor of the
heights--and glad calls of joy that the desert was to live again!

And within the room of the new birth the women stared in affright at
the child and at each other, for it was most wonderfully fair--not
like any child ever seen. This child had hair like the night, eyes
like the blue of the sky, and face like the dawn.

One man among them was very old, and in his youth had known the Te-hua
words. When the girl spoke he listened, and told the thing she said,
and the women shrank from her when it was told.

"She must be a medicine-woman, for she knows these things," she said,
"and these things are sacred to her people. She says that the blade of
a sacrifice must mark her child, for the boy will not be a child as
other children." And at the mention of the knife the people stared at
each other.

"There is such a knife," said Ho-tiwa. "It belongs to the Ancient
Days, and only the gods, and two men know it. It shall be as she says.
The god of the sky has brought the woman and has brought the child,
and on the face of the child is set the light of the moon that the
Hopi people will never again doubt that the gods can do these
things."

And there was a council at which all the old men talked through the
night and the day. And while they talked, the rain poured in a flood
from the gray sky, until men said this might be magic, for the woman
might have brought witchcraft.

But the old chief said no evil craft could have brought the good
rain:--The wind and the rain had come from the south as the girl had
come from the south, and the light on the face of the child was a
symbol that it was sacred.

Then one man, who had been an Apache prisoner, and found his way back,
told of a strange thing;--that forty days to the south where the birds
of the green feathers were, a new people had come out of the Eastern
sea, and were white. The great kings made sacrifices for them, and
planted prayer plumes before them--for they were called the new gods
of the water and the sunrise.

And the girl had come from the south!

Yet another reminded the council that the words of the girl were
Te-hua words, and the Te-hua people lived East of Ci-bo-la and
Ah-ko--the farthest east of the stone house building people.

"Since these are her only words, the child shall be named in the way
of that people," said Ho-tiwa. "The sacred fire was lit at the birth,
and on the fourth morning my woman will give the name in the Te-hua
way, and throw the fire to burn all evil from his path, and the sacred
corn will guard his sleep. Some of you younger men never have heard of
the great Te-hau god. Tell it to them, Atoki, then they will know why
a Te-hua never sends away a poor stranger who comes to them."

The man who knew Te-hua words, and had seen the wonderful Te-hua
valley in his youth, sent smoke from his ceremonial pipe to the four
ways of the gods, and then to the upper and nether worlds, and spoke:

"_Aliksai!_ I will tell of the Te-hua god as it was told to me by the
old man of Kah-po in the time of starving when I went with the men for
the sacred corn of the seed planting:

"The thing I tell is the true thing!

"It was time for a god to walk on the earth, and one was born of the
piñon tree and a virgin who rested under the shadow of its arms. The
girl was very poor, and her people were very poor; when the piñon nut
fell in her bosom, and the winds told her a son was sent to her to
rest beneath her heart, she was very sad, for there was no food.

"But wonderful things happened. The Spirits of the Mountain brought to
her home new and strange food, and seeds to plant for harvest:--new
seeds of the melon, and big seed of the corn:--before that time the
seeds of the corn were little seeds. When the child was born, strange
things happened, and the eagles fly high above till the sky was alive
with wings. The boy was very poor, and so much a boy of dreams that he
was the one to be laughed at for the visions. But great wise thoughts
grew out of his mountain dreams, and he was so great a wizard that the
old men chose him for Po-Ahtun-ho, which means Ruler of Things from
the Beginning. And the dreamer who had been born of the maid and the
piñon tree was the Ruler. He governed even the boiling water from the
heart of the hills, and taught the people that the sickness was washed
away by it. His wisdom was beyond earth wisdom, and his visions were
true. The land of that people became a great land, and they had many
blue stones and shells. Then it was that they became proud. One day
the god came as a stranger to their village:--a poor stranger, and
they were not kind to him! The proud hearts had grown to be hard
hearts, and only fine strangers would they talk with. He went away
from that people then. He said hard words to them and went away. He
went to the South to live in a great home in the sea. When he comes
back they do not know, but some day he comes back,--or some night! He
said he would come back to the land when the stars mark the time when
they repent, and one night in seven the fire is lit on the hills by
the villages, that the earth-born god, Po-se-yemo, may see it if he
should come, and may see that his people are faithful and are waiting
for him to come.

"Because of the day when the god came, and they turned him away for
that his robe was poor, and his feet were bare;--because of that day,
no poor person is turned hungry from the door of that people. And the
old men say this is because the god may come any day from the South,
and may come again as a poor man.

"And this was told to us by the Te-hua men when we went for seed corn
in that starving time, and were not sent away empty. _Aliksai!_"

The men drew long breaths of awe and approval when the story was
ended. The old man who had found the girl knew that the girl had found
friends.

But the mysterious coincidence of her coming as the rain came--and
from the south--and the fair child!

Again the man who had been a prisoner with the Apaches was asked to
tell of the coming of the white gods in the south where the Mexic
people lived. He knew but little. No Apache had seen them, but Indian
traders of feathers had said it was so.

The men smoked in silence and then one said:--"Even if it be so, could
the girl come alone so far through the country of the hostile
people?"

"There is High Magic to help sometimes," reminded the old chief. "When
magic has been used only for sacred things it can do all things! We
can ask if she has known a white god such as the trader told of to our
enemies."

And the two oldest men went to the house of Ho-tiwa's wife, and stood
by the couch of the girl, and they sprinkled sacred meal, and sat in
prayer before they spoke.

And the girl said, "My name is Mo-wa-thé (Flash Of Light) and the name
of my son is Tahn-té (Sunlight). We may stay while these seeds grow
into grain, and into trees, and bear harvest. But not always may we be
with you, for a God of the Sky may claim his son."

And she took three seeds from the fold of the girdle she had worn.
They were strange seeds of another land.

The old men looked at each other, and remembered that to the mother of
the Te-hua god, strange seeds had been given, and they trembled, and
the man of the Te-hau words spoke:

"You come from the south where strange things may happen. On the trail
of that south, heard you or saw you--the white god?"

And she drew the child close, and looked in its face, and said,
"Yes--a white god!--the God of the Great Star."

And the old men sprinkled the sacred meal to the six points, and told
the council, and no one was allowed to question Mo-wa-thé ever again.

The seeds were planted near the well of Sik-yat-ki, and grew there.
One was the tree of the peach, another of the yellow pear, and the
grain was a grain of the wheat. The pear tree and the wheat could not
grow well in the sands of the desert, only enough to bring seed again,
but the peach grew in the shadow of the mesa, and the people had great
joy in it, and only the men of the council knew they came from the
gods.

And so it was in the beginning.




CHAPTER II

THE DAY OF THE SIGN


Mo-wa-thé,--the mother of Tahn-té, drew with her brush of yucca fibre
the hair-like lines of black on the ceremonial bowl she was
decorating. Tahn-té, slender, and nude, watched closely the deft
manipulations of the crude tools;--the medicine bowls for the sacred
rites were things of special interest to him--for never in the
domestic arrangement of the homes of the terraces did he see them
used. He thought the serrated edges better to look at than the smooth
lines of the home dishes.

"Why can I not know what is that put into them?" he demanded.

"Only the Ancient Ruler and the medicine-men know the sacred thing for
'Those Above.'"

He wriggled like a beautiful bronze snake to the door and lay there,
his chin propped on his hands, staring out across the plain--six
hundred feet below their door--only a narrow ledge--scarcely the
length of the boy's body:--divided the wall of their home from the
edge of the rock mesa.

Mo-wa-thé glanced at him from time to time.

"What thoughts do you think that you lie still like a kiva snake with
your eyes open?" she said at last.

"Yes, I think," he acknowledged with the gravity of a ceremonial
statement, "These days I am thinking thoughts--and on a day I will
tell them."

"When a boy has but few summers his thoughts are not yet his own,"
reminded Mo-wa-thé.

"They are here--and here!" his slender brown hand touched his head,
and heart,--"How does any other take them out--with a knife? Are they
not me?"

"Boy! The old men shall take you to the kiva where all the youth of
the clan must be taught how to grow straight and think straight."

"Will they teach me there whose son I am?" he demanded.

Her head bent lower over the sacred bowl, but she made no lines. He
saw it, and crept closer.

"Am I an arrow to you?" he asked--"sometimes your face goes strange
like that, and I feel like an arrow,--I would rather be a bird with
only prayer feathers for you!"

She smiled wistfully and shook her head.

"You are a prayer;--one prayer all alone," she said at last. "I cannot
tell you that prayer, I only live for it."

"Is it a white god prayer?" he asked softly.

She put down the bowl and stared at him as at a witch or a sorcerer;--one
who made her afraid.

"I found at the shrine by the trail the head you made of the white
god," he whispered. "No one knows who made it but me. I saw you. I am
telling not any one. I am thinking all days of that god."

"That?"----

"Is it the great god Po-se-yemo, who went south?" he whispered. "Do
you make the prayer likeness that he may come back?"

"Yes, that he may come back!"

"My mother;--you make him white!"

She nodded her head.

"I am whiter than the other boys;--than all the boys!"

She picked up the bowl again and tried to draw lines on it with her
unsteady fingers.

"And you talk more than all the boys," she observed.

"Did the moon give me to you?" he persisted. "Old Mowa says I am white
because the moon brought me."

"It is ill luck to talk with that woman--she has the witch charm."

"When I am Ruler, the witches must live in the old dead cities if you
do not like them."

Mo-wa-thé smiled at that.

"Yes, when you are Ruler. How will you make that happen?"

"All these days I have been thinking the thoughts how. If the moon
brought me to you, that means that my father was not like others;--not
like mesa men."

"No--not like mesa men!" she breathed softly.

Mo-wa-thé was very pretty and very slender. Tahn-té was always sure no
other mother was so pretty,--and as she spoke now her dark eyes were
beautified by some memory,--and the boy saw that he was momentarily
forgotten in some dream of her own.

"No one but me shall gather the wood for the night fire to light
Po-se-yemo back from the south lands," he said as he rose to his feet
and stood straight and decided before his mother. "The moon will help
me, and your white god will help me, and when he sees the blaze and
comes back, you will tell him it was his son who kept the fire!"

He took from his girdle the downy feather of an eagle, stepped
outside to the edge of the mesa and with a breath sent it beyond him
into space. A current of air caught it and whirled it upwards in token
that the prayer was accepted by Those Above.

And inside the doorway, Mo-wa-thé, watching, let fall the medicine
bowl at this added evidence that an enchanted day had come to the life
of her son. Not anything he wanted to see could be hidden from him
this day! Powerless, she knelt with bent head over the fragments of
the sacred vessel--powerless against the gods who veil things--and who
unveil things!

It was the next morning that Mo-wa-thé stood at the door of Ho-tiwa
the Ancient one;--the spiritual head of the village.

"Come within," he said, and she passed his daughters who were grinding
corn between the stones, and singing the grinding song of the sunrise
hour. They smiled at her as she passed, but with the smile was a
deference they did not show the ordinary neighbor of the mesas in Hopi
land.

The old man motioned her to a seat, and in silence they were in the
prayer which belongs to Those Above when human things need counsel.

Through the prayer thoughts echoed the last thrilling notes of the
grinding songs at the triumph of the sun over the clouds of the dusk
and the night.

Mo-wa-thé smiled at the meaning of it. It was well that the prayer had
the music of gladness.

"Yes, I come early," she said. "I come to see you. The time is here."

"The time?"

"The time when I go. Always we have known it would be some day. The
day is near. I take my son and go to his people."

"My daughter:--his people he does not know."

"My father:--no one but the winds have told him--yet he knows much! He
has said to me the things by which I feel that he knows unseen things.
I told him long ago that the stars as they touch the far mesa in the
night are like the fires our people build to light our god back from
the south. Yesterday he tells me he wants to be the builder of that
fire and serve that god. My father in this strange land:--my son
belongs to the clan whose duty it is to guard that fire! I never told
him. Those Above have told him. I have waited for a sign. The gods
have sent it to me through my son--we are to go across the desert and
find our people."

"It is a thing for council," decided her host. "The way is far to the
big river,--it is not good that you go alone. Men of Ah-ko will come
when they hear us stamp the foot for the time of the gathering of the
snakes. When they come, we will make a talk. If it is good that you
go, you will find brothers who will show the trail."

"That is well;" and Mo-wa-thé arose, and stood before him. "You have
been my brother, and you have been my father, and my son shall stay
and see once more the rain ceremony of the Blue Flute people, and of
the Snake people, and when he goes to his own land, he can tell them
of the great rain magic of the Hopi Priests."

"He can do more than that," said the Ancient. "In council it has been
spoken. Your son can be one of us, and the men of the Snake Order will
be as brothers to him if ever he comes back to the mesa where the Sun
Father and the Moon Mother first looked on his face. In the days of
the Lost Others, all the people had Snake Power, as they had power of
silent speech with all the birds, and the four-foot brothers of the
forests. Only a few have not lost it, and the Trues send all their
Spirit People to work with that few. Your son may take back to your
people the faith they knew in the ancient days."

[Illustration: THE PRAYER TOKEN _Page 13_]

So it was that the boy watched the drama of the Flute people from the
mesa edge for the last time. The circle of praying priests at the
sacred well; virgins in white garments facing the path of the cloud
symbols that the rain might come;--weird notes of the flute as the
chanters knelt facing the medicine bowl and the sacred corn; then the
coming of the racers from the far fields with the great green stalks
of corn on their shoulders, and the gold of the sunflowers in the
twist of reeds circling their brows. He did not know what the new land
of his mother's tribe would bring him, but he thought not any prayer
could be more beautiful than this glad prayer to the gods. Of that
prayer he talked to Mo-wa-thé.

Then eight suns from that day, he went from his mother's home to the
kiva of the Snake Priests, and he heard other prayers, and different
prayers, and when the sun was at the right height, for four days they
left the kiva in silence, and went to the desert for the creeping
brothers of the sands. To the four ways they went, with prayers, and
with digging-sticks. He had wondered in the other days why the men
never spoke as they left the kiva, and as they came back with their
serpent messengers for the gods. After the first snake was caught, and
held aloft for the blessing of the sun, he did not wonder.

He had shrunk, and thought it great magic when the brief public
ceremony of the Snake Order was given before the awe-struck
people:--It had been a matter of amaze when he saw the men he knew as
gentle, kind men, holding the coiling snake of the rattles to their
hearts and dance with the flat heads pressed against their painted
cheeks.

But the eight days and nights in the kiva with these nude, fasting,
praying men, had taught him much, and he learned that the most
wonderful thing in the taming of the serpents was not the thing to
which the people of the dance circle in the open were witness. He was
only a boy, yet he comprehended enough to be awed by the strong magic
of it.

And of that prayer of the serpents he talked not at all to Mo-wa-thé.

And the Ancient knew it, and said. "It is well! May he be a great
man--and strong!"

From a sheath of painted serpent skin the Ruler drew a flute brown and
smooth with age.

"Lé-lang-ûh, the God of the Flute sent me the vision of this when I
was a youth in prayer," he said gently. "I found it as you see it long
after I had become a man. On an ancient shrine uncovered by the Four
Winds in a wilderness I found it. I have no son and I am old. I give
it to you. Strange white gods are coming to the earth in these days,
and in the south they have grown strong to master the people. I will
be with the Lost Others when you are a man, but my words here you will
not forget;--the magic of the sacred flute has been for ages the music
of the growing things in the Desert. The God of the Flute is a god old
as the planting of fields, and a strong god of the desert places. It
may be that he is strong to lead you here once more to your brothers
on some day or some night--and we will be glad that you come again.
For this I give the flute of the vision to you. I have spoken.
Lo-lo-mi!"




CHAPTER III

OF THE JOURNEY OF TAHN-TÉ


The journey of Tahn-té to his mother's land of the East was the wonder
journey of the world! There were medicine-men of Ah-ko for their
guides, and the people were many who went along, so no one was afraid
of the Navahu of the hill land.

And a new name was given to his mother. Ho-tiwa gave her the name, and
put on her head the water of the pagan baptism to wash away that which
had been. The new name was S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah and it meant the "Woman
who has come out from the mists of a Shadow or Twilight Land." And
they all called her by that name, and the men of Ah-ko regarded her
with awe and with respect, and listened in silence when she spoke.

For the first time the boy saw beyond the sands of the desert, and in
the high lands touched the running water of living springs, and
scattered meal on it with his prayers, and bathed in the stream where
green stems of rushes grew, and braided for himself a wreath of the
tasselled pine.

"_Ai-ai!_" said his mother softly,--"to the people of my land the pine
is known as the first tree to come from the Mother Earth at the edge
of the ice robe on her bosom. So say the ancients, and for that reason
is it sacred to the gods--and to the sacrifices of gods. Have you, my
son, woven a crown of sacrifice?"

But Tahn-té laughed, and thrust in it the scarlet star blossom growing
in the timber lands of the Navahu.

"If I am made sacrifice I will have a blood strong, living reason," he
said, with the gay insolence of a young god walking on the earth.

But the older men did not smile at the bright picture he made with the
blood-red stars in the green of his crown. They knew that even untried
youth may speak prophet words, and they made prayers that the wise
woman of the twilight land might not see the day when her son became
that which he had spoken.

He carried with him a strange burden:--an urn or jar of ancient days
dug from one of the buried cities of the Hopi deserts. On it was the
circle of the plumed serpent, and the cross of red and of white. It
was borne on his back by a netted band of the yucca fibre around his
brow, and in it were young peach trees, and pear trees--the growing
things of the mystic seeds given to the medicine-men of the Hopi the
day of the boy's birth.

Seeds also were being carried, but it was the wish of the mother that
her son carry the growing things into the great valley of the river
P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé.

Even into the great rift of the earth called Tzé-ye did he carry it,
where the cliff homes of the Ancient Others lined the sides of the
cañon and the medicine-men of Ah-ko spoke in hushed tones because of
the echoing walls, and of the strong gods who had dwelt there in the
days before men lived and died.

"The dead of the Ancient ones are hidden in many hollow places of the
stone," explained one of the men who spoke the language of Te-hua
people. "And it is good medicine for the man who can walk between
these walls where the Divine Ones of old made themselves strong. You
do not fear?"

[Illustration: BLOOD-RED STARS IN THE GREEN OF HIS CROWN _Page 18_]

"I do not fear," said S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah, the woman of the twilight,
"and my son does not fear. Before he was born to the light of the Sun
Father, I made the trail from the level land of the west where the
snow is, to the deep heart of the world where the plants have blossoms
in winter time, and the birds sing for summer. Beside it this deep
step down from the world above is like the thickness of your finger
against the height of a tall man."

The men stared at her in wonder, and Tahn-té listened, but could not
speak when the older men were silent.

"There is such a place," said the oldest of the men. "It is to the
sunset. The water comes strong there, and it is a place of the gods,
as this place is. And you have seen it with your eyes?"

"I have seen it, and the water that is so strong looks from the top
like this reed of this ancient dwelling place," said S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah,
and she pointed to the waving slender lattice grass of the cañon.

"I have heard of it, but our people do not cross it in these days,"
said the old man. "Our friends the Te-huas cross it--and cross a
desert beyond when they go to the Love Dance of the Chinig-Chinik who
live by the sunset sea. In my youth I thought to go, but old age is
here and I have not yet seen it." Then after an interval of thoughtful
silence he said:--"You have crossed that river in the heart of the
world--I did not know that women went to the Love Dance."

"I can not tell you. I also do not know," said S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah
quietly, and the boy saw that the eyes of all the men were directed
strangely to his mother. "I do not belong to the Order from which the
people are sent to the Dance of Love or the Dance of Death. My eyes
have not seen the waters of the sunset sea."

"Then you did not go beyond the river in the heart of the rocks?"
asked the old man. "You did not cross over?"

"I did cross over. I have seen the sands of that far desert of which
you speak. I have seen the trees of which one leaf will cover a man
from the sun, and more leaves will make a cover for a dwelling. I have
seen the water run there at the roots of those trees as this water
runs in the shadow of this rock, and--ai!--ai-ah! I have seen it sink
in the sands when it was needed most--and have heard it gurgle its
ghost laugh beneath the hot trail where the desert lost one
wandered."

Her head bent forward and her hands covered her eyes. The boy wanted
to ask where this place was of which he was hearing so much for the
first time. What was there in the wonderful journey of the wise woman
to make the tears come and her voice tremble? But the old Shaman of
Ah-ko reached out his hand and touched her bent head.

"It is true, my daughter of the Te-hua, that the Snake priest of the
Hópitû told in council that high medicine was yours. Yet all he could
not tell me. You have lived much, oh woman! Yet your heart is not
hard, and your thoughts run clear as the snow water of the high hills.
It is well that you have come with us, and that you have talked with
us. When the hidden water mocks with laughter so far beneath the
desert sand that no man lives to reach it:--then it is that men die
beside the place their bleeding hands dig deep. You have heard that
laughter, and have lived, and have brought back your child out of the
sands of death. It has given you the medicine for your son that is
strong medicine. You have lived to walk with us and that is well."

"Yes, thanks this day, it is well," said the other men.

At Ah-ko, "the city of the white rock," the silent, shy Medicine-Woman
of the Twilight and her son were feasted like visiting rulers of a
land.

To his wonder they sang songs of thanks that the gods had let her come
to them once again, and they asked that she make prayers with them.

The woman with whom the rain and the sweet fruit had come to the far
desert was a woman to be feasted and propitiated--all the more that
she disclaimed aught of the divine for herself; but when they spoke of
her son she was silent. His life was his own in which to prove what he
might be.

Here he saw no girls with the head bands for their burden of water
bottles as in Tusayan. He saw instead the beautifully poised vases on
the heads of the women while they paced evenly over the rock of the
mesa or the treacherous sand hills, and the great walled reservoir of
shining green water was a constant source of delight to him. Eight
times the height of a man was the depth of it, and at the very bottom
in an unseen crevice was the living spring pulsing out its heart for
the long line of women who brought their decorated jars to be filled.

The evening of their arrival he found his mother there in the shadow
of the high rock walls.

"Are you sad, my mother, that you walk alone and sit in the shadow?"
he asked, but she shook her head.

"I come because this place of the deep water is precious to me," she
said. "Make your prayer here, my son, make your prayer for the people
who thirst in the desert of this earth life. There are many deserts to
cross, and the enchanted hills and the enchanted wells of content are
but few on the trail."

He made the prayer, and scattered the sacred pollen of the corn to the
four ways, and again took up his query.

"The enchanted mesa Kat-zi-mo I have seen and already the men have
told me its story," he said. "But of this well there is no story
except that in the ages ago the water was brought high with the wall,
and when the Apache enemies came, the people could not starve for
water even while the fighters fought a long time. That is all the
story--there is no magic in that."

"There is always magic in the waters of the desert," and the Woman of
the Twilight. "One other time I drank of the water of this well. It
was enchanted that time, for every moving light and shadow on its face
have I remembered all the days and all the nights. Give me to drink of
it now with your own hands, and it will be then precious for two
reasons."

He did as she said, and wanted to ask of that other time and could
not.

"Thanks this day, thanks for my son," she said and sprinkled water to
the four ways and drank. "Not again shall I see you--oh joy place in
the desert! Give your magic to my son that he may carry it to the free
running water of his own land!"

In Tusayan his mother had been to him Mo-wa-thé, the pottery maker who
made the finest of all vessels, but on the wonder trail in the new
lands he found that she was strangely learned. And when she spoke of
the place of the well on the high mesa and said it was precious for
magic there, he walked silent and awed beside her, for the magic world
held the Great Mystery, and only through prayer must it be spoken.

He knew that his lot was more fortunate than that of any other boy
alive, an the long trail where each night around the camp fire the men
told tales of the Ancient days when gods walked on the earth and
taught wisdom to the people. Each tribe had its own sacred truths
given by its own gods, and he was learning of many. In the great cañon
of Tzé-ye--the abiding place of the Navahu Divine Ones, he had heard
with awe of the warrior boy gods who were born of the Sun and of the
Goddess Estsan-atlehi and set out to slay the terrific giants of evil
in the world. But the medicine-men of Ah-ko were quite sure that the
Ancient Ones of their own race had proof that the Supreme Power is a
master mind in a woman's form. It is the thing which thinks and
creates, and her twin sister is the other mind which only remembers.
Prayers must not be said to the goddess who only remembers--but many
prayers belong to the goddess who creates. And the most belovéd of all
is the goddess E-yet-e-ko (Mother Earth) who nourishes them all their
days. He learned that they planted their corn and their cotton by the
stars and the plum blossoms, in the way his mother said they did by
the river of her land, also that the great bear of the stars was
called by them the great animal of cold weather, and that the Sun had
eight children, or wandering stars in the sky.

He heard many more things, but the wisdom of it was too deep for a boy
to know, and the words of the symbols were new, and not for his
understanding. How big--how very big the world of the Tusayan desert
had seemed to him as he stood on the mesa of Wálpi and looked to the
south where old Awatabi (the high place of the Bow) stood in its
pride, and rugged Mishongnavi with her younger sister Shupaulevi
against the sky, so beautiful, that the sacred mountain Dok-os-lid of
the far away, looks sometimes like a cloud back of those villages, and
sometimes like the shell of the big water from which its name was
taken.

But all those wonderful Hopi mesas with their fortresses on each, were
within the running time of a morning, and not in any of them were
there forests or living streams, or strange new things. Only the
clouds and the shadow of the clouds on the sand,--or the sun and the
glory of the sun on the world, made the heart leap with the beauty of
the land of the Hopi people. But here were new things each day.

When the boys of Ah-ko in friendly rivalry ran races and leaped great
spaces, and shot arrows into a melon with him--and then ate the
melon!--they asked how many years he had lived and he laughed and did
not know.

"I had so many," he said holding up the fingers of both hands and
pointing to his eyes,--"When I followed your men down the trail from
Wálpi in Hopi land. But I have seen so much, and lived so much that I
must be very old now!"

This the boys thought a great jest, and said since he was old he could
not run races, or see straight to shoot, and he must let himself be
beaten. But the boys who tried to beat him were laughed at by the old
men who watched, and he was given a very fine bow to take on his
journey, and never any boy crossed those lands so joyously as he who
carried all the way the growing sprouts of the new trees.

And at Ah-ko a little tree from the urn, and some of the seeds were
given, but the winter to come was a hard winter, and the ice killed
them, so the fruit from the strange far-off trails was not for Ah-ko.

They had rested, and were about to depart, when Tahn-té, watching with
other boys the war between two eagles poised high above the enchanted
mesa, saw on the plain far below the figure of an Indian runner, his
body a dark moving line against the yellow bloom spread like a great
blanket of flowers from Mount Spin-eh down and across the land.

He only watched because the man ran well--almost as well as a
Hopi--and did not see in the glistening bronze body the herald of a
new day in the land.

At the edge of the cliff they watched to see him appear and disappear
in the length of the great stairway of the fortress. Some day each boy
among them would also be a runner in his turn for ceremonial reasons,
and it is well to note how the trusted men make the finish.

It is not easy to run up the two hundred foot wall of Ah-ko at the end
of a long trail, but this man, conscious of watchers, leaped the last
few steps and stood among them. Only an instant he halted, in surprise
face to face with the boy Tahn-té who stood nude and fair beside dark
companions.

Tahn-té was accustomed to the curious regard of strangers who visited
the country of Tusayan. He had heard so often that he was a child of
the sky that this explanation of his fairer skin seemed to him a very
clear and logical explanation of the case.

But after the runner had been listened to by the governor and fed, and
a herald from the terraced housetop had called aloud the startling
message brought by him to the people of Ah-ko, the boy went away from
the other boys, and wrinkled his brows in boyish thought, and stared
across to the ancient crater of Se-po-chineh until his mother sought
him, and found him.

"You are weary, my son, that you come alone from the others?"

"The others only talk yet tell nothing," he said gloomily, "and of
that which the runner tells I wish to hear much. You hear what he says
of white men like gods who come from the south searching for the blue
stones and the stone of the sun fire, and taming strange beasts to
carry them on their way?"

"Yes, it is true, I hear," she said.

"And you think it is magic? Is it that they are gods--or demons--or
men like these men?"

"If they were gods would they not know where the stones of the
sunlight are hidden in the earth?"

"Are they children of the moon or the sun, or the stars that they are
white?" he demanded.

"It may be so," she said very lowly, conscious that his gloomy eyes
were trying to make her see what he felt, but she must not see, and
she spoke with averted head.

Then he rose and stood erect and stretched out his arms their widest
and surveyed himself with measuring gaze and a certain pride, but the
other thought came back with its gloom and he laughed shortly with
disdain of himself.

"I have felt stronger than all the boys--always! Do you know why that
has been? I know now why--it was because I stood alone,--I was the
only child of the light and I dreamed things of that. Now a man tells
us there are many such people, and their magic is great, and my
strength goes because of the many!"

His mother stroked his hand reassuringly. "Na-vin (my own)," she said
steadily. "I have felt your dreams, and I also dream them. Fear no one
born of the light or of the darkness, and when you are a man you will
have all your strength--and more than your own strength."

"You say that, my mother?"

She held her head erect now and looked straight and steadily into the
eyes of her son.

"I say it!"

And he remembered that it was more than his mother who spoke, it was
the Medicine Woman of the Twilight and of the strange places, and the
far off thoughts.

He lifted her hand and breathed on it. "I am again Tahn-té," he said,
and smiled. "You make me find myself!"




CHAPTER IV

WHITE SEEKERS OF TREASURE


When Alvarado marched his band of adventurers into the pueblo Ua-lano
to the sound of tom-toms and flutes of welcome, an Indian woman with a
slender boy stood by the gate and watched the welcome of the
strangers.

An exceedingly reckless, rakish lot they were--this flower of the
Mexican forces who the Viceroy was only too willing should explore all
lands, and seas, so they kept themselves away from the capitol.

The women and the children shrank back as the horses clattered in.
Some laughed to cover their fear, others threw prayer meal, and their
fright made the commander notice the blanketed figure of the woman
whose eyes alone shone above the draperies held close, and who stared
so keenly into each white face as they passed.

"Who is the dame in the mask of the blanket?" he asked of his host
Chief Bigotes--the courteous barbarian who had crossed seventy leagues
of the desert to ask that his village be honored by the god-like ones
from the south.

Bigotes looked at her, did not know, but after inquiring came back and
spoke.

"It is a strange thing but it is true," said the interpreter, "she is
called the One from the Twilight Land. She went as a girl from Te-hua
to Ah-ko for study with the medicine people of one order there. One
night it was as if she go into the earth, or up in the sky. No one
ever see her any more. It was the year of the fire of the star across
the sky. Now she comes from the west and so great a medicine woman is
she that leading men are sent to guard her on the trail to the Te-hua
people--and to guard her son."

"Faith! Your strangers are a handsome pair. The boy would make a fine
page in a civilized land. He is the fairest Indian I've seen."

The boy knew that his mother and himself were objects of query, and
stood stolid, erect and disdainful,--the stranger should see that all
their clanking iron, their dominating swagger, and their trained
animals could not make him move an eyelash of wonder.

But to his mother he said:

"They have much that we will need if we ever fight them; their
clanking clothes and shields can break many arrows."

"Why do you talk of fighting?"

"I do not know why. It is all I thought of as I looked at them."

One thing interested him more than all else, and that was a man in a
grey robe who carried a book, and turned the pages in absorbed
meditation; sometimes his reading was half aloud, and Tahn-té slipped
near each time he could, for to him it looked as if the man talked to
the strange white paper.--He thought it must be some sort of high
magic, and of all he saw in the new comers, he coveted most of the
contents of those pages,--it was more wonderful than the clanging
metal of their equipment.

A tiny elf-like girl followed Tahn-té as a lost puppy would, until he
asked her name, and was told it was Yahn--that she lived in Povi-whah
by the big river and that her mother was visiting some society of
which she was a member,--that she was in the kiva and could not be
seen for four days and nights, and in the coming of the beasts and the
strangers, her caretaker had lost her, and the home where she had
stayed last night she did not know.

She knew only she was lost, and some boys had told her that the new
kind of beasts ate little girls. She did not weep or call, but she
tried to keep her little nude body out of sight behind Tahn-té if a
horse or a mule turned its head in the direction she was.

So glad she was to be protected that she told him all her woes in the
strange town. The greatest was that a dog had taken from her hand the
roasted ear of corn she had been eating, and she wished Ka-yemo was
there, he would have maybe killed the dog.

Inquiry disclosed the fact that Ka-yemo was not her brother; he lived
in Provi-whah. Her own name was Yahn. No:--it was not a Te-hua name.
It was Apache, for her mother was Apache--and the Te-hua men had
caught her when they were hunting, and always her mother had told Yahn
to stay close to the houses, for hunting enemies might bear her away
into slavery--and Yahn was not certain but these men on the beasts
might be hunters.

She was very tiny, and she spoke imperfectly, but shyness was not a
part of her small personality, and she insisted on making herself
understood. To Tahn-té she seemed like a boy rather than a girl, and
he called her Pa-ah-dé which is the Te-hna word for "brother"--and
later he gave her to his mother to keep her out of the way of the
horses and the strange men.

And thus it was that Tahn-té, and Apache Yahn saw together the strange
visitors from the south, and Yahn, though but a baby, thought they
might be hunters whom it would be as well to hide from, and Tahn-té
thought much of the coats of mail, and how lances could be made to
pierce the joints.

He heard the name of the man with the black robe and the magic thing
of white leaves from which he talked--or which talked to him!--it was
"Padre"--there was also another name and it was "Luis." It meant the
same as "Father Ho-tiwa" or "Brother Tahn-té."

To the man from whom the rakish Spanish soldiers bent the knee and
removed the covering from the head, Tahn-té felt no antagonism as he
did for the men who carried the arquebus and swords. The man who is
called "Father" or the woman who is called "Mother" with the Indian
people, is a person to whom respect is due, and through Bigote he had
heard--by keeping quiet as a desert snake against a wall--that the man
of the grey robe who was called "Father" was the great medicine-man of
the white tribe. Through him the god of the white man spoke. In the
leaves of the white book were recorded this god's laws, and even these
white men who were half gods, and had conquered worlds beyond the big
water of the South, and of the East, bent their knees when the man of
the robe spoke of the sacred things.

Of these things he spoke to his mother, and was amazed to learn that
she knew of the white man's gods, and the white men's goddess. Never
had she talked to him of this, and she did not talk to him much now.
She only told him that all she knew would belong to him when the time
came, and that the time seemed coming fast--but it was not yet. When
he was older he could know.

When he talked to her of the many white pages in which the white god
had written, she told him that much wisdom--and strong magic must be
there. The white men had no doubt stolen for their earth-born god the
birth story of Po-se-yemo, the god of her own people. But his magic
had been great in that land across the seas and that people had
written words of the earth-born god as had certain tribes of Mexico,
and all that the god said and did had been written plainly as had been
written the records of Quetzel-coatle of the South, and it was not
good that their own tribe had not the written records of their gods.

"It may be that the time has come to make such records," said Tahn-té,
"our people should not be behind the other people."

"We have no written words,"--said his mother;--"our head men who
govern have only the deerskin writings of Ki-pah the wise, who lived
long ago and did much for the people of Kah-po and Oj-ke, and the
people of the river."

"Of him I have not heard," said Tahn-té--"was he a god?"

"No--no god, but he lived and worked as a god. He came to this land
before the day of my grandfathers. When the time is come, the men of
my father's people will tell you the work he did in our valley, and
what he said. So will tell you the old men of Provi-whah and the old
men of Kah-po. He came to a land, not to one people, and on the
deerskin he painted things never seen but by the wise men who know how
to read it."

The boy stared moodily into the sun swept court of Ua-lano. There were
so many things in the world of which no one had ever told him!

"If I am very good, and say very many prayers, and wait on the gods
very carefully, will the wise men of the medicine orders tell me of
the deerskin records some day?" he demanded.

"Some day--it may be so," she conceded.

"Good! I will think of that each day as the sun comes up!" he stated.
"And the magic of the white man's writings I will learn for myself. It
is a thing which is not kept for sacred places, and no prayers are
needed for that!"

The woman of mystery regarded him strangely, yet spoke no word. The
magic of the white conquerors was wonderful magic to her, yet she
could not ask her son why he only spoke of them as ever beyond some
wall which they must not cross,--and of their knowledge as strong
knowledge, yet not sacred knowledge.

Between the woman and her son there was often a wall of silence. Even
her love could not cross it. There were always spoken or unspoken
questions which she left without answers. He was only learning this in
the wonderful journey of the desert lands, and he asked fewer
questions,--but looked at her more. And:--she knew that also!

The man of the talking white leaves, and the grey gown set in the
center of the court a white cross, and all the soldiers knelt, and in
front of the dwellings the brown people knelt also--which the
Christians deemed a special dispensation that so many heathen had been
brought so quickly to their knees at the mere sight of the holy
symbol. And in the morning Father Luis decided he would baptize all of
them, and have a high mass for the salvation of their souls. The boy
who watched the book so closely, was, he felt sure, a convert at mere
sight of the white leaves, and the heathen mother would no doubt
clamor also for sanctification.

But in the early dusk of the morning the boy and his mother were on
the trail for the home valley of the river P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé of which he
had dreamed. With them were people of Kah-po, and people of Provi-whah
and the Apache woman and her child Yahn. Yahn made some one carry her
most of the hard trails, and talked much, and asked many things of the
little growing trees in the old urn of ancient Tusayan.

And when they came in sight of the sacred mesa, Tuyo, a runner was
sent ahead to tell the governor and the head men of the strange new
people of the clanking iron at Ua-lano, and the wonderful and belated
home-coming of the lost woman of many years' mystery.

Because of this they were met at the edge of the mesa by many, and the
Woman of the Twilight knelt and touched the feet of the governor and
asked that the gate of the valley be open to her and to her son. And
Tahn-té knelt also and offered the growing things.

"These are sacred things of which the Ruler must speak," said the
governor. "I am but for one short summer and winter, but the Ruler is
for always. Of the new things to bear fruit we still speak in
council,--also of the new people trading a new white god for blue
stones, and painted robes."

But Tahn-té knew that a welcome was theirs, for the governor would not
have come outside the walls except it had been so, and the old man
watched keenly the delight of the boy as the river of that land came
clear before him spread at the foot of the wide table land, and the
great plain below. Trees grew there, and between them the running
water shone in the sun. The Black Mesa Tuyo, Mesa of the Hearts,
arose from the water edge,--a great dark monument of mystic rites,
and wondrous records of the time when it had been a breathing place
for the Powers in the heart of the earth. The rocks were burned so red
it always seemed that the fire was still under them. And south was the
God-Maid mesa:--its outline as the face of a maid upturned to the
sky.

Beyond the river stretched the yellow corn fields--the higher land
like a rugged red skeleton from which the soil had been washed,--and
beyond that was the great uplift of the pine-clad mountains where the
springs never failed, and the deer were many.

Wild fowl fluttered and dove in the waters of the river, grey pigeons
flew in little groups from the trail; as they walked, two men in
canoes caught fish where a little stream joined the big water of
P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé--in every direction the boy was conscious of a richer,
fuller life than any he had yet seen. His mother was right--her people
were a strong people! and their villages were many in the valleys of
the river.

In Povi-whah the clan of the Arrow Stone people welcomed the Twilight
Woman as their own, and the men and women who had journeyed with her
from Ua-lano looked glad to have journeyed with her,--they had to
answer many questions.

Tahn-té also had much practise in the Te-hua words when he tried to
tell them what the peach was like, and what the pear was like, and the
youth were skeptical as to peaches big as six plums.

A boy larger than he flipped with a willow wand at the urn with the
little trees, and told him that in Provi-whah a boy was whipped if he
lied too often!

"How many times may a boy lie and not be whipped?" asked Tahn-té, and
the other boys laughed, and one stripling gave him a fillet of otter
skin in approval, and said his name was Po-tzah, and that their clan
was the same.

But the tiny Yahn who looked from face to face, and saw the anger in
the face of the boy of the willow wand, caught the switch and brought
it down with all the force of her two chubby arms on the nurslings
brought from Hopi land.

Tahn-té caught her and lifted her beyond reach of the urn.

"I should have let the strange beasts of the iron men eat you," he
said. "You shall go hungry for peaches if you kill the trees!"

The others laughed as she wriggled clear--and lisped threats even
while keeping out of range of his strong hands.

"Always she is a little cat of the hills to fight for Ka-yemo," said
Po-tzah. "Little Ka-yemo will some day grow enough to fight alone!"

Ka-yemo scowled at them, and muttered things, and sauntered away. He
was the largest of all of them, but one boy does not fight six!

Yahn was in such a silent rage that she twitched and bent the willow
until it was no longer any thing but a limp wreck:--she would break
something!

"That is the Apache!" said Po-tzah. "I think that baby does not forget
to fight even when she sleeps."

The little animal flung an epithet at him and ran after the sulky
Ka-yemo:--evidently her hero and idol.

The mother of Tahn-té was called in council for things of which
Tahn-té was not to know. But he learned that she was of the society of
the Rulers:--that from which the spiritual head was selected when the
Po-Ahtun-ho or Ruler no longer walked on the earth.

After the council sacred meal was sprinkled on the trees in the urn,
and the priests of the order of Po-Ahtun divided them between the
Winter people, and the Summer people, that it be proven which the care
of the new fruit would belong to for prayers, and each planted them by
their several signs in the sky. His mother spoke to him when alone and
told him he was now to do a boy's work in the village, and his
training must begin for the ceremonies of high orders into which the
council wished him to enter.

"To serve our people?"

"Yes:--it will be so--to serve our people."

"Since it is to be like that, may I also speak?"--he asked. "May I not
speak to the men who decide? I have thought of this each day since
Ua-lano. At some time I must speak:--is not this the time?"

"It may be the time," she assented. "We will go to the old men of the
orders. It may be they will listen."

All night they listened, and all night they talked, and the old men
looked at the mother strangely that the son should speak the words of
a man in council.

"Thanks that you let me speak," he said. "Thanks! It is true what you
hear of the white gold-hunter's magic. It is strong. It is good that
we find out how it is strong. My mother tells you how the Snake
priests of Tusayan make me of their order, so that I can know that
magic for the rain ceremony. In my hands also was given the Flute of
Prayer to the desert gods, and to know Hopi prayers does not hurt me
for a Te-hua:--it is Te-hua prayers my mother teaches me always! So it
will not hurt me to learn the magic of the men of iron. They are
strong and they will be hard to fight. The grey robe man is the man
who teaches of their gods. He teaches it from magic white leaves in
his hand, on the leaves there are words--other iron men can talk from
them, but only the grey robe is the priest and teaches. He would teach
me if I would serve him--then I could have their magic with our own."

"It may be evil magic," said one.

"It tames the strange beasts as the Hopi prayers tame the snakes,"
replied the boy--"and every day the beasts do work for these people."

The old men nodded assent--it certainly must be strong magic to do
that!

But a man of the Tain-tsain clan arose.

"This woman has been gone many moons on a strange trail," he said.
"The son she brings back to her clan speaks not as a youth speaks. It
is as if he has been very old and grows young again. It may be
magic--and again it may be that he is half lost in his mind and dreams
the dreams of a man. It is a new thing that men listen to a child in
council."

Then K[=a]-ye-fah the aged Po-Ahtun-ho made a sign for silence, and
sat with closed eyes, and it was very quiet in the council until he
spoke.

"You have brought a big thought out of the world of the Spirit People,
Phen-tza," he said. "It has been given to you to say, and that is
well! It has been given to me to see--and I see with prayer. When the
God-thought is sent to earth people is it not true that the child of
dreams, or the man of dreams, is the first to hear or to feel that
thought? Was not the earth-born god, Po-se-yemo, called a youth that
was foolish? Was he not laughed at by the clans until he wept? Was he
not made ashamed until out of his pain there grew a wisdom greater
than earth-wisdom? Let us think of these things, and let us hear the
words of the child who dreams."

"It is well," said another, "even when half the mind is gone, it may
be gone only a little while on the twilight trail to the Great
Mystery."

"The life music comes in many ways," said K[=a]-ye-fah, the Ruler.
"Many reeds grow under the summer sun, but not in all of them do we
hear the call of the spirit people when the wild reed is fashioned for
the flute. The gods themselves grow the flutes of High Mystery. This
youth is only a reed by the river to-day--yet through such reed the
gods may send speech for our ears."

"We will listen," said the others. "Let us hear more of the men whose
blankets are made of the hard substance." And at this Tahn-té again
took courage and spoke.

"These iron men say they are only on a hunting trail--they say they
will not trouble the people--that is what their men say who speak for
them! But if one boy, or one man, could talk as they talk, you men of
Povi-whah would know better if they speak straight. My mother has
found the trail to her people on the right day, and has brought me
here. I want to be the boy who learns that talk of the hunters of the
blue stones and sacred sun metal of the earth, and then I can come
back and tell it to the wise men of my mother's people."

"But you may not come back."

"I will ask all the Powers that I will come back. My mother will pray
also, and her prayers are strong."

"I will pray also," said S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah.

The men smoked, and the boy watched them and waited until K[=a]-ye-fah
spoke.

"That which the son of this wise woman says is to be well thought
of;--it may be precious to us in days not yet born of the sun. You who
listen know that we are living now in a day that was told of by Ki-pah
in the years of our Lost Others, and Ki-pah spoke as the god
Po-se-yemo spoke:--he was given great magic to see the years ahead of
the years he lived."

"It is true," assented the governor--"It was when the people yet lived
in the caves, and the water went into the sands in that highland--that
is when he came to our Lost Others--Ki-pah--the great wisdom. He came
from the south, and taught them to come down from the caves and build
houses by the great river, and to turn the water to the fields here.
All things worked with him--and Kah-po--and Oj-ke and P[=o]-ho-gé were
built and stand to this day where he said they must be built. He knew
all speech, and could tell magic things from a bowl of clear water. It
was in the water he saw men who were white, and who would cover the
land if we were not strong. These men are the men he saw in the water.
I think it is so, and that this is the time to be strong."




CHAPTER V

TAHN-TÉ AMONG STRANGERS


The one thing to which the boy gave awed attention was that when the
time came for the villages to fight--a leader would be born to
them--if the people of the valley were true to their gods they would
be strong always, Ki-pah the prophet told them to remember always the
war star in the sky--the star Po-se-yemo had told them of, when it
moved, the time to make war would be here.

And when the time came to fight, a leader would come to them, as he,
Ki-pah had come! Because of this thought was the heart of the boy
thrilled that he had been called a reed by the river--a reed through
which music of the desert gods might speak.

He was filled with wild fancies of mystic things born of these
prophecies. And the old men said that perhaps this was the time of
which Po-se-yemo, the god, and Ki-pah, the prophet, had told!

The vote of a Te-hua council has to be the agreement of every man, and
the star of the morning brought dawn to the valley before the last
reluctant decided it was well to send a messenger to learn of the
strange gods.

But as the sun rose Tahn-té bathed in the running water of the river,
and his prayer was of joy:--for he was to go!

In joy, and with the light of exaltation in his face he said farewell
to boy thoughts, and walked lightly over the highlands and the valleys
to Ua-lano, and thence followed the adventurers to Ci-cu-yé and bent
the knee to Father Luis, and kissed the cross, and let water be
sprinkled over him, and did all the things shown him with so glad a
heart that the devoted priest gave praise for such a convert from the
pagan people. So pleased was he with the eagerness of Tahn-té to
learn, that he made him his own assistant at the ceremonies of the
Holy Faith.

And after each one, the boy washed his hands in running water, and
scattered prayer meal to the gods of the elements, and to the Sun
Father God, and knew that in Provi-whah his mother was praying also
that he be not harmed by the god of the gold hunters--and that he come
back strong with the white man's magic.

The boy Ka-yemo of the Tain-tsain clan was also sent--but neither boy
was told of the quest of the other. The old men decided it was better
so. Without pay they went with the Spanish adventurers, one serving
the men of arms and learning the ways of the strange animals, and the
other serving the priests and learning the symbols of the strangers'
creed of the one goddess, and two gods, and many Go-h[=e]-yahs, called
saints by the men of the iron clothes.

They both saw many strange things in Ci-cu-yé, and they saw the
strange Indian slave, whom the old men of Ci-cu-yé instructed to lead
the men of iron from their land with the romance of Quivera. And the
slave did it, and told the strangers of the mythic land of gold and
gems, and lost his life in the end by doing so, but the life of the
romance was more enduring than any other thing, and the spirit of that
treasure search still broods over the deserts and the mountains of
that land.

But the stay of Ka-yemo was not even the length of the first winter
with the strangers. For in Tiguex where the great captain (Coronado)
wintered, and made his comfort by turning the natives out of their
houses, there was a season of grievous strife ere the Spring came, and
the two boys of Te-hua saw things unspeakable as two hundred Indians
of the valley, captured under truce, were burned at the stake by the
soldiers of the cross.

One of the reasons for the crusade to the north as written in the
chronicles of Christian Mexico was to save the souls of the heathen
for the one god,--and his advocates were sending the said souls for
judgement as quickly as might be!

Tahn-té stood, pale and tense in the house where the chapel of Fray
Juan Padilla had been established,--once it had been the house of the
governor of the village who might even now be among the victims of the
broken trust.

On the altar was a crucifix in gold on ebony, and the eyes of the boy
were not kindly as he regarded it.

"They lie when they say you are a god of peace like our god
Po-se-yemo," he said. "They lie when they say you are the god of the
red man--you are the white god of the white people--and you will let
the red men hold not anything that your white children want!"

He heard himself speak the words aloud there alone where the new altar
was--he seemed to hear himself saying it over and over as if by the
sound of his own voice he could kill the sound of the tortured red men
in the court.

A blanketed figure ran in at the open door, halted at the sound of
Tahn-té's voice--and then flung himself forward. It was Ka-yemo and
his teeth were chattering at the thought of the inferno without.

"It may be they will not look for us here," he said as he saw who it
was in the chapel--"Perhaps--if one keeps near--to their strong god:
and you are close also--and--"

"I stay close because it is my work,"--said Tahn-té. "Some of the men
tied to the stakes out there bent before their strong god and said
prayers there.--Did it save them?"

"They will kill us--we will never see our people--they will kill us!"
muttered Ka-yemo shaken with fear.

"I do not think they want to kill us:--they still need us for many
things. We are only boys, we have not wives that we refuse to give to
the white men--if we had it might be different, who knows?"

"Is that the cause?"

"The white men will give a different one--but that is the cause!
The men of this valley think it is enough if they give their
houses, and their corn, and their woven blankets to their fine white
brothers:--the red men are foolish men,--so they burn at the stake
out there!"

Ka-yemo stared at him, and crouched in his blanket.

"You say strange things," he muttered. "I think when they get crazy
with the spirit to kill that they will kill us all. I do not stay to
be killed--I go!"

Tahn-té staring at the emblems of holiness on the altar scarcely heard
him.

"I go, Tahn-té,--I go if I have to swim the river with the ice.--Do
you stay here to be killed?"

"I am here to learn many things--I learn but little yet, I cannot
go."

"But--if you die?"

"I think it is not yet that I die," said Tahn-té--"There is much to
do."

"And--if I live to see--our people?"

"Tell my mother I am strong--and I feel her prayers when the sun comes
up. Tell the governor I stay to learn what the white god does for the
red men; when I have things to tell the people I will come back to
Povi-whah."

But the ice of that winter melted, and the summer bore its fruit, and
the second spring time had come to the land before Tahn-té crossed the
mesas and stood at his mother's door.

"Thanks--that you have come," she said, and wept, and he held her hand
and did not know the things to say, only:--"Thanks that our gods have
brought me back."

"And the magic of the white man?"

"It is here," and he opened a bag made of buffalo skin, and in it were
books and papers covered with written words. She looked on them with
awe. Her son was only a boy but he had won that which was precious,
and earned honors from the men of her tribe and her clan.

"Not to me must you tell it first," she said--"The Ruler will hear
you, and the governor,--they will decide if it is to be known, or if
it is to be secret."

The old men sprinkled prayer meal--and smoked medicine smoke over the
books to lift any lingering curses from the white men's god, and then
the boy opened the pages and made clear how the marks stood for words,
and the words put all together stood for the talk of the white god. It
was a thing of wonder to the council.

"And it is a strong god?" asked the Ruler.

"It is strong for war:--not for peace," said the boy.

"Ka-yemo brought back the words of the medicine-man of the grey
blanket who talked of their god. All his talk was of peace and of love
in the heart. Is that true?"

"It is true. He was a good man. It may be that some men are born so
good that even the gods of the men of iron cannot make them evil. And
Padre Luis was born into the world like that."

"We listen to you to hear of the moons and the suns since you went
away."

The boy told of the fruitless search to the east for the wonderful
land of the slave's romance, where the natives used golden bowls
instead of earthen vessels for food, where each soldier was so sure of
gaining riches that the weight of provisions carried was small lest
the animals be not strong enough to carry all the gold and the food
also.

The old men laughed much at this search for the symbol of the Sun
Father along the waters of the Mischipi, and commended the wise men of
Ci-cu-yé who had the foresight to plan the romance, and to send the
slave to lead the adventurers to the land of false dreams.

It was bad, however, that the strangers had not lost themselves in the
prairies, or were not killed by the fierce tribes of the north:--it
was bad that they came back to the villages of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé
river.

Then the boy told of the final despair of the conquerors, and their
disheartened retreat to the land of the south. For two years they had
terrorized the people of the land--worse enemies than the Navahu or
the Comanche or the Apache fighter, then when they had made ruins
where towns and gardens had been, they said it was all of no use since
the yellow metal was not found in the ground.

"Did the wise men of iron not know that where the yellow metal is in
the earth, that there is ever the symbol of the Sun Father, and that
it must be a thing sacred and a hidden place for prayer?"

"They did not know that:--no man told them."

K[=a]-ye-fah, the ancient Ruler blew smoke from his pipe to the four
ways, and spoke.

"Yet among the men they burned to ashes in the village square were
many who could have told them that, and three who could have told them
where such prayer places were hidden! It is well, my children, that
they did die, and not tell that which the Sun Father has hidden for
his own people:--it is well!"

"It is well!" echoed the others of the council.

"We all die when the day or the night comes,"--continued the old man.
"It is well that we die in bravery for the sake of the others who have
to live and walk the earth path. It is well that we have strong hearts
to think about. One day I shall go in the ground with my fathers; I am
old, and the trail has been long, and in my old days the sunlight has
been covered for me."

Tahn-té did not know what he meant, but the other men bent their heads
in sympathy.

"It is twice four moons since my child K[=a]-ye-povi was carried away
in the darkness when we fought the Navahu in the hunting grounds to
the west,"--he continued. "No one has found her--no trader has brought
her back. When a woman, she will not know her own people, or our own
speech. I think of that, and grow weak. Our people have never been
slaves--yet she will be a slave for our enemy the Navahu! So it is
that I grow old more quick, and the time may come soon to sleep on our
Mother--the Earth."

"We wish that it comes not soon," said the governor, and the others
signified their assent.

"Thanks, thanks that you wish it. I do not speak of it to give sad
hearts. I speak because of the days when I may be gone, and another
than me will hold the knowledge of a sacred place where the Sun Father
hides his symbol. It is good that I hear of the men who let themselves
go into ashes, and when if they had said once:--'I know where it
is--the metal of the Sun!' all might have gone free and lived long
days. My children:--it may be that some day one of you will hold a
secret of the sacred place where strong magic lives! If it be so, let
that man among you think in his heart of the twenty times ten men who
let themselves be burned into ashes by the white men of iron! Guard
you the sacred places--and let your ashes go into the sands, or be
blown by the winds to the four ways. But from the sacred things of the
gods, lift not the cover for the enemy!"

The old man trembled with the intensity of the thought and the dread
of what the unborn years might bring.

After a moment of silence the governor spoke:

"It may be that you live the longest of all! No one knows who will
guard the things not to be told. But no Te-hua can uncover that which
belongs to the Sun Father, and the Earth Mother."

"It is true:--thanks that it is true!"--said the other men, and
Tahn-té knew he was listening to things not told to boys.

"Thanks that you speak so," said the Ruler. "Now we have all spoken of
this matter. It is done. But the magic of the white hunters of gold,
we have not yet heard spoken. How is it, boy, that you have brought
all these signs of it:--what made blind their eyes?"

"Not anything," said Tahn-té. "It was a long time I was with them.
Some men had one book, or two, other men had papers that came in great
canoes from their land in Spain. Some had writings from their fathers
or their friends. These I heard read and talked of around the camp
fire. When they went away some things were thrown aside or given to
the padres who were to stay and talk of their gods. All I found I hid
in the earth. The people of Ci-bo-la killed Padre Juan, and I traded a
broken sword for his books and his papers. The sword I also had
buried. They were afraid of the books, I had learned to read them, and
I was not afraid."

"And you came from Ci-bo-la alone?" asked the governor,--"it is a long
trail to carry a load."

"All was not carried from there. I came back to Ci-cu-yé to learn more
from Padre Luis who meant to live there. He did not live so long, but
while he lived he taught me."

"The men of Ci-cu-yé killed him too?"

"They made him die when they said I must not take beans or meal to him
where he lived in a cave, and where he made prayers for their shadow
spirits."

"You wanted that he should have food?" asked the Ruler.

"I wanted that he should live to teach me all the books before the end
came," said the boy simply. "It is not all to be learned in two
winters and one summer."

"That is true," said K[=a]-ya-fah the Ruler. "All of a man's life is
needed to learn certain things of magic. It is time now that you come
back and begin the work of the Orders. You have earned the highest
right a boy has yet earned, and no doors will be closed for you on the
sacred things given to people."

"We think that is so," said the governor--"no doors will be closed for
the son of S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah, the Woman of the Twilight."

This was the hour he had dreamed of through the months which had
seemed horrible as the white man's hell. One needs only to read the
several accounts of Coronado's quest for the golden land of the Gran
Quivera in 1540-42 to picture what the life of a little native page
must have been with the dissatisfied adventurers, by whom all
"Indians" were considered as slaves should their service be required.

Men had died beside him on the trail--and there had been times when he
felt he too would die but for the thought of this hour when he could
come back, and the council could say--"It is well!"

"I thank you, and my mother will thank you," he said with his eyes on
the stones of the kiva lest the men see that his eyes were wet. "My
mother said prayers with me always, and that helped me to come back."

"The prayers of the Shadow Woman are high medicine," assented one of
the men. "She brought back my son to live when the breath was gone
away."

"As a little child she had a wisdom not to be taught," affirmed the
Ruler--"and now it is her son who brings us the magic of the iron men.
Tell us how you left the people of Ci-cu-yé."

"They were having glad dances that the Christians were gone, and that
the padres were dead as other men die. So long as they let me I
carried food and water to Padre Luis. Then they guarded me in the
kiva, and laughed at me, and when they let me go I knew it was
because he was no longer alive. No:--they did not harm me. They were
too pleased that I could tell them of where their slave whom they
called the 'Turk'--led the gold hunters searching for the Quivera of
yellow metal and blue stones. They had much delight to hear of the
woeful time of the white men. I could stay all my days at Ci-cu-yé and
be precious to them, if I would talk of the trouble trail to Quivera,
but when I had seen that the Padre was indeed gone to the Lost Others,
my work was no more at Ci-cu-yé. I took his books also for my own--and
all these things I have brought back at Povi-whah to make good my
promise when I went away. Some things in the books, I know, and that I
can tell you. Of the rest I will work until I do know, and then I can
tell you that."

"That is good," said K[=a]-ye-fah the Ruler. "You shall be as my son
and in the long nights of the winter moons we will listen. The time
told of in the prophecies of Ki-pah is coming to us. He said also that
in each danger time would be born one to mark the way for the people
to follow--in each danger time so long as the Te-hua people were true
to the gods!"

Tahn-té breathed on the hand of the old men, and went up from the kiva
into the cool night of the early summer.

It was too wonderful a night for aught but to reach up in thought to
the height of the warm stars. They came so close he could feel their
radiance in his heart.

Twice had his name in council been linked to the prophecies of the
wise and mysterious prophet of the ancient days! Always he had known
that the Woman of the Twilight and he were not to live the life of the
others. He had not known why they were set apart for unusual
experiences, but to-night he dared to think. With the words of the
wise men still in his ears--the rulers who could make and unmake--he
knew that no other boy had ever heard the praise and promise he had
heard. He knew they thought they were giving words to one who would be
a leader in the years to come--and this first night under the peace of
the stars, he was filled with a triumph and an exaltation for which
there were no words.

He would be a leader--not of war--not of government for the daily
duties of village life, but of the Things of the Spirit which seemed
calling within him to highest endeavor. He knew as yet nothing of
Te-hua ceremonies--he had all to learn, yet he felt inspired to invent
some expression for the joy which was his.

The new moon seemed to rest on the very edge of the mesa above
him:--the uplifted horn looked like a white flame rising from purple
shadows.

A white flame!--a _white_ flame!

To the Indian mind all signs are symbolic,--and the flame was exactly
above the point where the light was set ceremonially and regularly to
light the Indian god back to his own people!

A point of white flame above that shrine of centuries!

No eyes but his saw it at exactly that angle--of course it was not
meant for other eyes. It was meant that it should be seen by him alone
on his first night with the people he meant to work for! With the
memory of the prophecies in his ears had he seen it. It could mean
only that the god himself set it there as a proof that the devotion of
Tahn-té was acceptable--and that he had been born of his mother that
the prophecies might be fulfilled at the right time--and that the
light of the moon on his face had meant----

His thought came so quickly that all the air of the night appeared
alive with the unseen--and the unseen murmured in his ears, and his
memories--and in his heart!

Suddenly he stretched his open hands high to the stars, and then ran
across the level to the foot of the bluff. It was high and very steep,
but wings seemed his--his heart was on the summit, and his body must
follow--must get there before the white flame sank into the west--must
send his greeting to answer the greeting of the god!

In the pouch at his girdle was the fire flint, and a wisp of the silky
wild flax of tinder. Two sticks of dead scrub piñon was there; he
broke them in equal lengths and laid them in the cross which is the
symbol of the four ways, and of the four winds from which the sacred
breath is drawn for all that lives--the symbol also of union by which
all human life is perpetuated. All fires of sacrifices,--or of magic
power, must commemorate these things which are sacred things, and
Tahn-té placed them and breathed upon them, and touched them with the
spark from the white flint, and then arose in joy and faced the moon
yet visible, knowing that the god had seen his answering flame on the
shrine--and that it meant a dedication to the Things of the Spirit.

And as he stood there on the mesa's edge, exalted at the wonder of the
night, he did not speak, yet he heard the echo of words in his own
voice:--"_No one but Tahn-té shall gather the woods for the fire to
light Po-se-yemo back;--and when he sees the blaze, and comes back,
you will tell him it was his son who kept the fire!_"

Like a flash came the memory of that other time at the edge of that
other mesa in Hopi-land! He had said those words to his mother--and
had forgotten them. He could never forget them again, for the god had
sent them back to him to remember. And Tahn-té trembled at the
wondrous signs given him this night, and sprinkled meal to the four
ways, and held prayer thoughts of exaltation in his heart.

And this was the last day of the boy years of Tahn-té.

He began then the years of the work for which his Other Self told him
he had been born on earth.




CHAPTER VI

TAHN-TÉ--THE RULER


Summers of the Sun, and winters when the stars danced for the snow,
had passed over the valley of Povi-whah. New people had been born into
the world, and old people had died, but the oldest man in the council,
K[=a]-ye-fah--the Ruler of Things from the Beginning, had lived many
years after the time when he thought the shadow life must come to him.
And to the Woman of the Twilight he had said that it was her son who
kept him living--her son to whom he taught the ancient things of his
own youth. In the keen enthusiasms he had found such a son as he had
longed for. The lost daughter, K[=a]-ye-povi, he had never found--and
never forgotten. To Tahn-té he had talked of her until she almost
lived in their lives. The face of the god-maid on the south mesa had
for K[=a]-ye-fah the outline of chin and backward sweep of hair
strangely akin to the face of the lost child. He liked to think the
god-maid belonged more to his clan of Towa Toan--the High Mesa
clan--than to another.

"If she had not gone into the shadow land, her face would have looked
that way," he said.

"And we could gather bright flowers for her hair,"--said the
boy--"they would be sweeter than the cold, far brightness of the stars
where the god-maid waits," and he pointed to where Antares gleamed
from the heart of the Scorpion above the dusk profile,--"I think of
K[=a]-ye-povi as the dream maid. She will be my always young
sweetheart--my only one."

"That is good," said K[=a]-ye-fah--"very good for the work of the
unborn years."

For the youth was to carry on the tribal prayers to the gods when
K[=a]-ye-fah no longer walked on earth. And his teaching must be
greater than all other teaching, for the Ruler was planning for the
work of the days to come.

And in a day of the early spring the work was made ready, for to
S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah he said:--"A week ago So-hoah-tza went under the
waters of the river and never breathed again. To him was given the
guard of the sacred place of the Sun Father. I have not yet made any
other the guardian. You are the woman of the order of the Po-Ahtun--I
give you the guard to keep. Call the governor--but call your son
first. You shall be guard as So-hoah-tza was guard, but Tahn-té shall
be guard as I have been! Lean lower, and let your ear listen and your
heart keep sacred the word. I go to our Lost Others--but I leave you
to guard."

The governor came, and all were sad, but no one thought that the life
was over. K[=a]-ye-fah talked and smiled as one who goes to a feast.

But Tahn-té, standing tall and still by the couch said:--"It will be
over! This morning he wakened and said he would go with the sun
to-day. He has no other thought, and he will go!"

And the women wept, and made ready the things of burial for the high
priest of the highest order. If Tahn-té said he would go into the
shadows at that time--the women knew that it would be so. Tahn-té, as
they knew him, joyous in the dances of the seasons,--was never in
their minds apart from Tahn-té the prophet whose dreams even as a boy,
had been beyond the dreams of the others who sought visions.

And as the sun touched the black line of the pines on the western
mountain, the aged Ruler asked for his wand of office, and the
governor gave it to him, and with his own hand he gave it to Tahn-té,
that even when his own form was covered with the soil, his vote would
be on record in the minds of those who listened--and that vote gave
to his pupil in magic, the wand of power--The youngest qualified
member of the Order of Spiritual things was thus acclaimed as the
Po-Ahtun-ho, a Ruler of Things from the Beginning.

Twenty-four years he had lived--but the time of life with the white
men had counted more than double. In magic of many kinds he was more
wise than the men of years, and the heart of his mother was glad with
the almost perfect gladness when Tahn-té stood in the place of the
Ancient Wisdom and listened as the ear of the god listens to the
recitation of many tribal prayers.

The Po-Ahtun-ho also listens at times to the individual appeals of the
things of every day life--as a father listens to a child who seeks
advice. To the more ancient Rulers the younger people were often
afraid to go--various "uncles" of the village were appealed to
instead. But the youth of Tahn-té made all things different--even the
love of a man for a maid, was not so small a thing that the new Ruler
made the suppliant feel how little it was.

And one of the first who came to him thus--who knelt and offered a
prayer to him, the prayer of a love, was the little Apache tigress who
had been first of his own village to greet him in Ua-lano--Yahn
Tsyn-deh, who had grown so pretty that the men of the other villages
talked of her, and her mother had asked great gifts for her. But the
mother had died with the winter, and Yahn refused to be subject to the
Tain-tsain clan of her father, and there had been much trouble until
she threatened to go back to her mother's tribe, and many thought it
might come to that after all--for she was very strong of will.

But before Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho she crouched, and sobs shook her,
and her hair covered her face as a veil.

"If it is of the clan, Yahn, it is to the governor you should
speak:--" said Tahn-té--"from him it may come to me if he thinks best.
There are rules we must not break. Because I carried you, when little,
on my shoulder, is no reason to walk past the door of the governor and
bring his duties to me."

He spoke kindly, for his heart was kind towards the little fighter of
boyhood's days. Her alien blood was ever prompting her to reckless
daring beyond the customs of Te-hua maidens. In a different way, he
himself was an alien and it helped him to understand her. But this day
he saw another Yahn--one he had not known could hide under the
reckless exterior.

She tossed back her hair and faced him.

"How should I speak with Phen-tza the governor--he is the uncle of
Ka-yemo! It is he who has helped do this thing--he would make me a
slave or have me whipped! How should I speak with him? Ka-yemo knows
that the governor his uncle, will--"

"Ka-yemo! What has Ka-yemo done? What trouble does he make?"

"Oh--no trouble!" her words were bitter words,--"Only the governor his
uncle, has talked with the family of Tsa-fah and the marriage is made
with his daughter Koh-pé of the beads, and you--know, Tahn-té--you
know!"

Tahn-té did know, he regarded her in silence.

"Speak!"--she pleaded. "You are more than governor--you are the
Highest! Magic is yours to make and to unmake. Unmake this thing! With
your magic send him back to me--to me!"

"Magic is not for that:--it is for Those Above!"

Again she flung herself at his feet and wept. The sobs hurt him, yet
he must not lift her. She begged for a charm--for a spell--for black
magic to strike dead the wearer of the red bears and the blue beads,
for all wild things a wild passion could suggest.

"If you could see into the other years you would be content to have it
as it is," he said gently--"the years ahead may--"

"I care nothing for the years ahead! I want the _now_!--I want--"

"Listen!" he said, and she fell silent with covered face. "That which
you feel for Ka-yemo is not the love of marriage. A man takes a wife
for love of a wife and a home and children in the home. A man does not
chain himself to a tigress whose bite and whose blows he has felt. A
man would wish to be master:--what man has been born who could be
master in your home?"

"You do not know. You have lived a different sort of life! I could be
more than another wife--than any other wife! I shall kill some one!--"
and she rose to her feet--"unless the magic comes I kill some one!"

"And then?"

"Then Phen-tza the governor will have me strangled, and they will
take me to my grave with ropes of raw hide and there will not any
where be a sad heart for Yahn Tsyn-deh."

"You see how it is--he is precious to you--as he always has been. But
your love is too great a love for happy days. Always it will bring you
the ache in the heart. No thing of earth should be given the love like
that:--it is a fire to burn a whole forest in the days of its summer,
and in the winter snows there will be only ashes."

"Good!--then I, Yahn, will rather burn to the ashes in such summer
days, and be dead under the snows in the winter of the year!"

"And after that?"

"After that will not the Po-Ahtun-ho be Ruler always? Will he not
remember his friends who are precious in the Beyond as he remembers
this one to-day?" she asked mockingly. "K[=a]-ye-fah told the council
that you have lived a life no other man lives, and that no woman is
precious to you:--when you find the woman who is yet to come, may a
viper poison her blood--may a cat of the hills tear her flesh! May you
love until madness comes--and may the woman find only death in your
arms--and find it quickly!"

When the Woman of the Twilight came in from the field with yellow corn
pollen for the sacred ceremonies, the lattice of reeds at the outer
door was yet shaking as from touch of a ruthless hand, or a strong
wind.

"Who was it that cried here?" she asked. "Who has left you sad?"

"Perhaps a prophetess, my mother," answered Tahn-té, and sat
thoughtful where Yahn had left him. And after a long time he arose
and sought the governor.

But it was fated that the governor and the new Ruler were not to talk
of the love of a maid or the marriage of a man that day.

A runner had been sent to Povi-whah from Kat-yi-ti. He gave his
message, and stayed to eat while other runners took the trail, and
before the sun had moved the width of a hand across the sky, the
villages of Kah-po and Tsa-mah and Oj-ke were starting other runners
to Ui-la-ua and far Te-gat-ha and at Kah-po the head men gathered to
talk in great council over the word brought from the south.

For the word was that the men of the iron and the beards and the white
skins were again coming to the land of the People of the Sun. They
came in peace, and searched for the lost padres. A man of the gown was
with them for prayers, and a Te-hua man who had been caught by the
Navahu long winters ago and traded to the land of green birds. The
Te-hua man said the white people were good people, and he was guiding
them to the villages by the big river, P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé.




CHAPTER VII

THE SILKEN SCARF


Of the many godly enterprises set afoot for exploration and conquest
in New Spain of the sixteenth century, not all have chronicles
important enough for the historian to make much of. But there were
goings and comings of which no written record reached the archives.
Things forbidden did happen even under the iron heel of Castilian
rule, and one of the hidden enterprises grew to be a part of the life
of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé valley for a time.

Not that it was unchronicled, but there was a good reason why the
records were not published for the Spanish court.

It was a pretty romantic reason also--and the usual one, if we may
trust the world's judgment of the foundation of all trouble. But a
maid tossing a blossom from a Mexic balcony could not know that the
stranger from Seville to whom it was thrown was the son of an
Eminence, instead of the simple gentleman named Don Ruy Sandoval in a
royal letter to the Viceroy. With him travelled his tutor whose
tutelage was past, and the position a difficult one for even the
Viceroy to comprehend.

Since the youth rebelled at the habit of a monk--he had been given a
space for adventure under godly surveillance. The godly surveillance
limped a trifle at times. And because of this did Don Ruy walk again
in the moonlight under the balcony and this time more than a blossom
came to him--about the stem of a scarlet lily was a flutter of white!
The warm light of the Mexic moon helped him to decipher it--a page
from Ariosto--the romance of Doña Bradamante--and the mark of a pen
under words uttered by the warrior-maid herself--words to warm a
cooler youth than this one from over seas:--"_Why seek I one who flies
from me?--Why implore one who deigns not to send me reply?_"

Whereupon there was no further delay as to reply--there was found an
open gate to a garden where only stars gave light, where little hands
were held for a moment in his--soft whispers had answered his own--and
he was held in thrall by a lace wrapped señorita whose face he had not
even looked on in the light. All of Castile could give one no better
start in a week than he had found for himself in three days in the new
world of promise.

For there were promises--and they were sweet. They had to do with a
tryst two nights away--then the lady, whom he called "Doña Bradamante"
because of the page torn from that romance, would enlighten him as to
her pressing need of the aid of a gentleman, and courage would be hers
to tell him why a marked line and a scarlet lily had been let fall in
his path--and why she had trusted his face at first sight--though he
had not yet seen her own--and why--

It was the usual thing--the page of a poem and a silken scarf as a
guerdon of her trust.

He found the place of the tryst with ease for a stranger in the Mexic
streets, but a glimmer of white robe was all he saw of his unknown
"Doña Bradamante." Others were at the tryst, and their staves and arms
lacked no strength. He heard a woman scream, then he heard her try
again to scream and fail because of a hand on her throat, and beyond
that he knew little for a night or two, and there was not much of day
between.

Monkly robes were the next thing in his range of vision--one face in
particular, sallow and still with eyes glancing sideways, seeing all
things;--divining much! soft steps, and bandages, and out of silence
the excited shrillness of Don Diego Maria Francisco Brancadori the
tutor:--the shepherd who had lost track of his one rather ruffled
lamb.

Pious ejaculation--thanks to all the saints he could think of--horror
that the son of an Eminence should be thus abused--prophecies of the
wrath to come when the duchess, his mother--At this Don Ruy groped for
a sword, and found a boot, and flung it, with an unsanctified word or
two, in the direction of the lamentation.

"You wail worse than a dog of a Lutheran under the yoke," he said in
as good a voice as he could muster with a cut in his lip. "What matter
how much Eminence it took to make a father for me--or how many
duchesses to make a mother? I am labelled as plain Ruy Sandoval and
shipped till called for. If you are to instruct my youth in the path
it should tread--why not start in with a lesson on discretion?"

At this hopeful sign of life from the bundle of bandages on the monk's
bed, Maestro Diego approached and looked over his illustrious charge
with a careful eye.

"Discretion has limped far behind--enterprise, else your highness
would cut a different figure by now--and--"

[Illustration: TO DON RUY, A MESSAGE IN THE MOONLIGHT _Page 63_]

"Choke back your infernal highnesses!" growled the younger man. "I
know well what your task is to be here in this new land:--it is to
send back reports of duty each time I break a rule or get a broken
head. Now by the Blood, and the Cross, if you smother not your titles,
and let me range free, I tell you the thing I will do:--I will send
back a complaint against you to Seville--and to make sure that it
goes, no hand shall carry it but your own. Ere they can find another
nurse maid for my morals, I'll build me a ship and go sailing the
South seas for adventure--and your court tricksters will have a weary
time in the chase! I like you better than many another godly spy who
might have been sent, and I promise myself much joy in the journal of
strange travels it is in your mind to write. But once for all,
remember, we never were born into the world until a week ago!"

"But your Excellency--

"By the Great Duke of Hell! Will you not bridle your tongue when the
damned monks are three deep at the key hole?"

By which it will be seen that the travels of the pious Don Diego were
not all on paths of roses.

A little later the still faced priest of the stealthy glances came in,
and Don Ruy sat on the side of the bed, and looked him over.

"You are the one who picked me up--eh? And the gentlemen of the
streets had tossed me into a corner after discreetly starting my soul
on its travels! Warm trysts your dames give to a stranger in this
land--when you next confess the darlings, whisper their ears to be
less bloodthirsty towards youth innocence!"

The man in the robe smiled.

"That unwise maid will make no more trysts," he said quietly,--"not
if she be one important enough to cause an assault on your Highness."

"Did they--?"

"No--no--harm would not be done to her, but her destiny is without
doubt a convent. The men who spoiled your tryst earn no purses as
guard for girls of the street,--sacred walls will save them that
trouble for a time--whether maid or wife I dare promise you that! It
is as well you know. Time is wasted seeking adventure placed beyond
mortal reach."

"Convent--eh? Do your holy retreats teach the little tricks the lady
knew? And do they furnish their vestals with poems of romance and
silks and spices of Kathay?"

He drew from an inner pocket a little scarf of apple green with
knotted fringes, and butterflies, various colored in dainty broidery.
As the folds fell apart an odor of sweetness stole into the shadowy
room of the monastery, and the priest was surprised into an
ejaculation at sight of such costly evidence, but he smothered it
hastily in a muttered prayer.

After that he listened to few of the stranger's gibes and quips, but
with a book of prayers on his knee he looked the youth over carefully,
recalled the outburst of Don Diego as to origin, and the adventurer's
own threat to build a ship and sail where chance pointed. Plainly,
this seeker of trysts, or any other thing promising adventure, had
more of resource than one might expect from a battered stranger lifted
out of the gutter for the last rites.

The priest--who looked a good soldier and who was called Padre Vicente
"de los Chichimecos" (of the wild tribes) read further in his book of
hours, and then spoke the thing in his mind.

"For a matter of many years in this land of the Indies I have waited
for a man of discreet determination for a certain work. The virgin
herself led me to the gutter where you groaned in the dark, and I here
vow to build her a chapel if this thought of mine bears fruit."

"Hump! My thanks to our Lady,--and I myself will see to the building
of the chapel. But tell me of the tree you would plant, and we'll then
have a guess at the fruit. It may prove sour to the taste! Monkly
messes appealed to me little on the other side of the seas. I've yet
to test their flavor on this shore of adventure."

Padre Vicente ignored the none too respectful comment--and took from
his pocket a bit of virgin gold strung on a thread of deer sinew.

"Your name is Don Ruy Sandoval," he said. "You are in this land for
adventure. You content yourself with the latticed window and the
strife of the streets--why not look for the greater things? You have
wealth and power at your call--why not search for an empire
of--this?"

Then he showed the virgin gold worn smooth by much wearing.

Don Ruy blinked under the bandage and swore by Bradamante of the
adventure that he would search for it gladly if but the way was
shown.

"Where do we find this golden mistress of yours?" he demanded, "and
why have you waited long for a comrade?"

"The gold is in the north where none dare openly seek treasure, or
even souls, since Coronado came back broken and disgraced. I have
waited for the man of wealth who dared risk it, and--at whose going
the Viceroy could wink."

"Why wink at me--rather than another?"

"That is a secret knotted in the fringes of the silken scarf there--"
said Padre Vicente with a grim smile. "Cannot a way be found to clear
either a convent or a palace of a trouble breeder, when the church
itself lends a hand? You were plainly a breeder of trouble, else had
you escaped the present need of bandages. For the first time I see a
way where Church and the government of the Indies can go with clasped
hands to this work. In gold and converts the work may prove mighty.
How mighty depends whether you come to the Indies to kill time until
the day you are recalled--or improve that time by success where
Coronado failed."

"And if we echo his failure?"

"None will be the wiser even then! You plan for a season of hunting in
the hills. I plan for a mission visit by the Sea of Cortez. Mine will
be the task to see how and where our helpers join each other and all
the provisioning of man and beast. Mine also to make it clear to the
Viceroy that you repent your--"

"Hollo!"--Don Ruy interrupted with a grimace. "You are about to say I
repent of folly--or the enticing of a virgin--or that I fell victim to
the blandishments of some tricky dame--I know all that cant by
rote!--a man always repents until his broken head is mended, but all
that is apart from the real thing--which is this:--In what way does my
moment with a lady in the dark affect the Viceroy of the Indies? Why
should his Excellency trouble himself that Ruy Sandoval has a broken
head--and a silken scarf?"

Padre Vicente stared--then smiled. Ruy Sandoval had not his wits
smothered by the cotton wool of exalted pamperings.

"I will be frank with you," he said at last. "The Viceroy I have not
yet addressed on this matter. But such silken scarfs are few--that one
would not be a heavy task to trace to its owner."

"Ah!--I suspected your eminence had been a gallant in your time,"
remarked Don Ruy, amicably--"It is not easy to get out of the habit of
noticing alluring things:--that is why I refused to do penance for my
birth by turning monk, and shrouding myself in the gown! Now
come--tell me! You seem a good fellow--tell me of the 'Doña
Bradamante' of the silks and the spices."

"The destiny of that person is probably already decided," stated the
priest of the wild tribes, "she is, if I mistake not, too close to the
charge of the Viceroy himself for that destiny to be questioned. The
mother, it is said, died insane, and the time has come when the
daughter also is watched with all care lest she harm herself--or her
attendants. So I hear--the maid I do not know, but the scarf I can
trace. Briefly--the evident place for such a wanton spitfire is the
convent. You can easily see the turmoil a woman like that can make as
each ship brings adventurers--and she seeks a lover out of every
group."

"Jesus!--and hell to come! Then I was only one of a sort--all is fish
to the net of the love lorn lady! Maestro Diego would have had the
romance and the lily if he had walked ahead instead of behind me!--and
he could have had the broken head as well!" Then he sniffed again at
the bit of silk, and regarded the monk quizzically.

"You have a good story, and you tell it well, holy father," he said at
last,--"and I am troubled in my mind to know how little of it may be
truth, and how much a godly lie. But the gold at least is true gold,
and whatever the trick of the lady may be, you say it will serve to
win for me the privilege to seek the mines without blare of trumpets.
Hum!--it is a great favor for an unknown adventurer."

"Unknown you may be to the people of the streets, and to your ship
mates," agreed the Padre. "But be sure the Viceroy has more than a
hint that you are not of the rabble. The broils you may draw to
yourself may serve to disquiet him much--yet he would scarce send you
to the stocks, or the service of the roads. Be sure he would rather
than all else bid you god speed on a hunting journey."

"But that you are so given to frankness I should look also for a knife
in the back to be included in his excellency's favors," commented Don
Ruy. "Name of the Devil!--what have I done since I entered the town,
but hold hands with one woman in the dark--and be made to look as if I
had been laid across a butcher block on a busy day! Hell take such a
city to itself! I've no fancy for halting over long in a pit where a
gentleman's amusements are so little understood. If the Doña of the
scarf were aught but an amiable maniac the thing would be different. I
would stay--and I would find her and together we would weave a new
romance for a new world poet! But as it is, gather your cut throats
and name the day, and we'll go scouring the land for heathen souls and
yellow clinkers."

Padre Vicente de Bernaldez was known by his wonderful mission-work to
be an ecclesiastic of most adventurous disposition. Into wild lands
and beyond the Sea of Cortez had he gone alone to the wild tribes--so
far had he gone that silence closed over his trail like a grave at
times--but out of the Unknown had he come in safety!

His fame had reached beyond his order--and Ruy Sandoval knew that it
was no common man who spoke to him of the Indian gold.

"Francisco de Coronado," stated this padre of the wilderness, "came
back empty handed from the north land of the civilized Indians for the
reason that he knew not where to search. The gold is there. This is
witness. It came to me from a man who--is dead! It was given him by a
woman of a certain tribe of sun worshippers. To her it was merely some
symbol of their pagan faith--some priestly circle dedicated to the
sun."

"It sounds well," agreed Don Ruy--"but the trail? Who makes the way?
And what force is needed?"

For a guide the Padre Vicente had a slave of that land, a man of
Te-hua baptized José, for five years the padre had studied the words
and the plans. The man would gladly go to his own land,--he and his
wife. All that was required was a general with wealth for the
conquest. There were pagan souls to be saved, and there was wealth for
the more worldly minds. The padre asked only a tenth for godly
reasons.

Thus between church and state was the expedition of his Excellency Don
Ruy Sandoval ignored except as a hunting journey to the North coast of
the Cortez Sea--if he ranged farther afield, his own be the peril, for
no troops of state were sent as companions. The good father had
selected the men--most of them he had confessed at odd times and knew
their metal. All engaged as under special duty to the cross:--it was
to be akin to a holy pilgrimage, and absolution for strange things was
granted to the men who would bear arms and hold the quest as secret.

Most of them thought the patron was to be Mother Church, and regarded
it as a certain entrance to Paradise. Don Ruy himself meekly accepted
a role of the least significance:--a mere seeker of pleasure
adventures in the provinces! It would not be well that word of risk or
danger be sent across seas--and the Viceroy could of course only say
"god speed you" to a gentleman going for a ride with his servants and
his major domo.

And thus:--between a hair brained adventurer and a most extolled
priest, began the third attempt to reach the people called by New
Spain, the Pueblos:--the strangely learned barbarians who dwelt in
walled towns--cultivating field by irrigation, and worshipping their
gods of the sun, or the moon, or the stars through rituals strange as
those of Pagan Egypt.

Word had reached Mexico of the martyrdom of Fray Juan Padilla at
Ci-bo-la, but in the far valley of the Rio Grande del Norte--called by
the tribes the river P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé,--Fray Luis de Escalona might be
yet alive carrying on the work of salvation of souls.

The young Spanish adventurer listened with special interest as the
devotion and sacrifices of Fray Luis were extolled in the recitals.

"If he lives we will find that man," he determined. "He was nobly
born, and of the province of my mother. I've heard the romance for
which he cloaked himself in the gray robe. He should be a prince of
the church instead of a wandering lay brother--we will have a human
thing to search for in the world beyond the desert--ours will be a
crusade to rescue him from the infidel lands."




CHAPTER VIII

THE STORY BY THE DESERT WELL


Don Diego marvelled much at the briskness of the plans for a season of
hunting ere his troublesome charge was well able to see out of both
eyes. But on being told that the range might be wide, he laid in a
goodly stock of quills and parchment, for every league of the land
would bring new things to his knowledge.

These records were to be entitled "Relaciones of the New and Wondrous
Land of the Indian's Island" and in those Relaciones the accounts of
Padre Vicente were to loom large. Among the pagan people his war
against the false gods had been ruthless. Maestro Diego was destined
to hear more of the padre's method than he dared hope in the earlier
days.

José, the Indian of the North whose Te-hua name was Khen-zah, went
with them--also his wife--the only woman, for without her the man
would not go in willingness. Two only were the members added by Don
Ruy to the cavalcade--one a stalwart fellow of many scars named Juan
Gonzalvo who had known service with Pizarro in the land of gold--had
lost all his coin in an unlucky game, and challenged the young
stranger from Seville for the loan of a stake to gamble with and win
back his losses. He looked good for three men in a fight. Instead of
helping him in a game, Don Ruy invited him on the hunting trip!

The other addition was as different as might be from the toughened,
gambling conquistador--a mere lad, who brought a letter from the hand
of the Viceroy as a testimonial that the lad was a good scribe if it
so happened that his sanctity the padre--or his Excellency Don Ruy,
should need such an addition in the new lands where their hunting
camps were to be. The boy was poor but for the learning given him by
the priests,--his knowledge was of little save the knowledge of books.
But his willingness to learn was great, and he would prove of use as a
clerk or page as might be.

Padre Vicente was not present, and the cavalcade was already two days
on the trail, but Don Ruy read the letter, and looked the lad over.

"Your name is--"

"Manuel Lenares--and called 'Chico' because I am not yet so tall as I
may be."

"It should be Manuella because you look not yet so manlike as you may
be," declared Ruy Sandoval,--and laughed as the angry color swept the
face of the lad. "By our Lady, I've known many a dame of high degree
would trade several of her virtues for such eyes and lips! Tush--boy!
Have no shame to possess them since they will wear out in their own
time! I can think of no service you could be to me--yet--I have
another gentleman of the court with me holding a like office--Name of
the Devil:--it would be a fine jest to bestow upon him a helper for
the ponderous 'Relaciones'!" and Don Ruy chuckled at the thought,
while the lad stood in sulky embarrassment--willing to work, but not
to be laughed at.

He was dressed as might be in the discarded garments of magnificence,
well worn and visibly made over to fit his young figure. His cloak of
old scarlet, too large for him, covered a patched shirt and jacket,
and reached to his sandal straps of russet leather:--scarce the garb
of a page of the Viceregal court, yet above that of the native
servant.

"You are--Spanish?"

Again the face of the youth flushed, and he shrugged his shoulders and
replaced his velvet cap with its pert cock's feather.

"I have more than enough Spanish blood to send me to the Christian
rack or stake if they caught me worshipping the pagan gods of my
grandmother," he stated briefly, and plainly had so little hope of
winning service that he was about to make his bow and depart in search
of the Padre.

But the retort caught Don Ruy, and he held the lad by the shoulder and
laughed.

"Of all good things the saints could send, you are the best," he
decided--"and by that swagger I'll be safe to swear your grandsire was
of the conquistadores--I thought so! Well Chico:--you are engaged for
the service of secretary to Maestro Diego Maria Francisco Brancadori.
You work is seven days in the week except when your protector marks a
saint's day in red ink. On that day you will have only prayers to
record, on the other days you will assist at many duties concerning a
wondrous account of the adventures Don Diego hopes for in the heathen
land."

"Hopes for:--your Excellency?"

"Hopes for so ardently that our comfort may rest in seeing that he
meets with little of disappointment on the trail."

For one instant the big black eyes of the lad flashed a shy
appreciation of Don Ruy's sober words and merry smile.

"For it is plain to be seen," continued that gentleman--"that if Don
Diego finds nothing to make record of, your own wage will be a sad
trial and expense."

"I understand, your Excellency."

"You will receive the perquisites of a secretary if you have indeed
understanding," continued Don Ruy, "but if there are no records to
chronicle you will get but the pay of a page and no gifts to look for.
Does it please you?"

"It is more than a poor lad who owns not even a bedding blanket could
have hoped for, señor, and I shall earn the wage of a secretary. That
of a page I could earn without leaving the streets and comfort."

"Oho!" And again the eyes of Don Ruy wandered over the ill garbed
figure and tried to fit it to the bit of swagger and confidence.--"I
guessed at your grandfather--now I'll have a turn at you:--Is it a
runaway whom I am venturing to enroll in this respectable company of
sober citizens?"

"Your Excellency!" the lad hung his head yet watched the excellency
out of the corner of his eye, and took heart at the smile he saw--"it
is indeed true there are some people I did not call upon to say
farewell ere offering my services to you, but it is plain to see I
carried away not any one's wealth in goods and chattals."

"That is easily to be perceived," said Don Ruy and this time he did
not laugh, for with all his light heart he was too true a gentleman to
make sport of poverty such as may come to the best of men. "By our
Lady, I've a feeling of kinship for you in that you are a runaway
indeed--this note mentions the teaching of the priests--I'll warrant
they meant to make a monk of you."

"If such hopes are with them, they must wait until I am born again,"
decided the lad, and again Don Ruy laughed:--the lad was plainly no
putty for the moulding, and there was chance of sport ahead with such
a helper to Maestro Diego.

"It will be my charge to see that you are not over much troubled with
questions," said his employer, and handed back the letter of
commendation. "None need know when you were engaged for this very
important work. José over there speaks Spanish as does Ysobel his
wife. Tell them you are to have a bed of good quality if it be in the
camp--and to take a blanket of my own outfit if other provisions fall
short."

A muttered word of thanks was the only reply, and Don Ruy surmised
that the boy was made dumb by kindness when he had braced himself for
quips and cuffs--knowing as he must--that he was light of build for
the road of rough adventure.

"Ho!--Lad of mine!" he called when the youth had gone a few paces--"I
trust you understand that you travel with a company of selected
virtues?--and that you are a lucky dog to be attached to the most
pious and godly tutor ever found for a boy in Spain."

"It is to be called neighbor of these same virtues that I have come
begging a bed on the sand when I might have slept at home on a quilt
of feathers:"--the lad's tongue had found its use again when there was
chance for jest.

"And--"

"Yes:--your Excellency?"

"As to that pagan grandmother of whom you made mention:--her
relationship need not be widely tooted through a horn on the
journey--yet of all things vital to the honorable Maestro Diego and
his 'Relaciones,' I stand surety that not any one thing will be given
so much good room on paper as the things he learns of the heathen
worship of the false gods."

"A nod is as good as a wink to a mule that is blind!" called back the
lad in high glee. "Happy am I to have your excellency's permission to
hold discourse with him concerning the church accursed lore of our
ancestral idols!"

Then he joined José and Ysobel as instructed, and gave the message as
to bed and quarters. José said no word in reply, but proceeded to
secure blankets, one from the camp of Don Ruy. Ysobel--a Mexican
Indian--who had been made Christian by the padre ere she could be
included in the company, was building a fire for the evening meal.
Seeing that it burned indifferently the new page thrust under the
twigs the fine sheet of paper containing the signature of the
Viceroy.

Ysobel made an exclamation of protest--but it was too late--it had
started the blaze in brave order.

"Your letter--if you should need it--perhaps for the padre!" she
said.

"Rest you easy, Nurse," said the lad and stretched himself to watch
the supper cooked. "I have no further needs in life but supper and a
bed,--see to it that José makes it near you own! I am in the employ of
Don Ruy Sandoval for a period indefinite. And he has promised--laugh
not out loud Ysobel!--that he will see to it I am not questioned as to
whence or why I came to seek service under his banner!--even the holy
father is set aside by that promise--I tell you that laughter is not
to be allowed! If you let him see that you laugh, I will beat you when
we are alone, Ysobel--I will though you have found a dozen husbands to
guard you!"

Don Ruy did see the laughter of the woman, and was well pleased that
the lad could win smiles from all classes,--such a one would lighten
weary journeys.

He felt that he had done well by Maestro Diego. Plainly the quick wit
of the lad betokened good blood, let him prate ever so surely on his
heathen grandmother!

Don Diego felt much flattered at the consideration shown by Don Ruy
for the "Relaciones"--in fact he had so pleased an interest in the
really clever young pen-man that the Padre took little heed of the
boy--he was of as much account as a pet puppy in the expedition--but
if the would-be historian needed a secretary--or fancied he did,--the
lad would be less trouble than an older man if circumstances should
arise to make trouble of any sort.

So it chanced that Juan Gonzalvo and Manuel Lenares, called Chico,
were the only two included in the company who had not been confessed
and enrolled by Padre Vicente himself.

It was the magic time of the year, when new leaves open to the sun,
and the moon, even in the bare desert stretches of the land, brought
dreams of Castile to more than one of the adventurers.

"Good Father," said Don Ruy with feigned complaint, "Think you not
that your rigid rules for the journey might have stopped short of
hopeless celibacy for all of us?--Why a moon like that and Venus
ascendent unless to make love by?"

"The brightness of that same moon saved you nothing of a cracked pate
the hour of fortune when we first met," observed Padre Vicente
drily.--"Maids or matrons on the journey would have caused broken
heads in the desert as handily as in the city streets."

"By the faith--your words are of wisdom and much to be valued by his
highness," agreed Don Diego. "Make note of that thought for the
Relaciones Chico, my son. This pious quest may be a discipline of most
high import to all of us. Wifeless should we ride as rode the
crusaders of an older day."

"Tum-a-tum-tum!" Don Ruy trolled a fragment of love melody, and
laughed:--"I have no fancy for your penances. Must we all go without
sweethearts because you two have elected to be bachelors for the
saving of souls? Think you the Indian maids will clamor for such
salvation? I lay you a wager, good father, that I win as many converts
with love songs and a strip of moonlight, as do you both with bell and
book!"

Around the camp fires of the nights strange tales were told--and
strange traits of character unconsciously given to the light, and to
all the far seeing Padre gave note;--in emergencies it is ever well to
know one's resources.

José the Te-hua slave--caught first by the Navahu--traded to the
Apaches--thence to neighbors of the south--after years of exile, was
the one who had but few words. All the queries of the adventurers as
to gold in the north gained little from him--only he remembered that
fine yellow grains were in some streams, and it was said that other
yellow metal was in secret places, but he did not profess to be a
knower of High Things--and it was half a life time since his eyes had
rested on his own people.

He was a silent man whose words were in the main for his Ysobel and
the boy secretary. But the gold nugget worn smooth in the pocket of
Padre Vicente was as a charm to find its parent stock in all good
time! Men were with them who knew minerals in other lands!--It would
go hard but that it should be found!

He willingly let the nugget pass from hand to hand:--it was restful as
sleep to make the trail seem short. To Don Ruy he had told somewhat of
its finding, and the story in full was promised some day to the
cavalcade.

And at Ah-ko where they rested--they had not halted at hostile
Ci-bo-la!--At Ah-ko where the great pool on the high mesa made glad
their eyes, and the chiefs came to pay ceremonial visits, and the men
felt they were nearing the end;--there, at the urging of Don Ruy who
deemed it worthy of the "Relaciones"--there was told the story of the
bit of gold, the Symbol of the Sun, as it had been told to Padre
Vicente years before.

"Yes--I did mean to tell you of the finding of it," he announced
amiably. "I have listened to all your discourses and romances on the
journey--and good ones there were among them! But mine would not have
been good to tell when seeking recruits, it might have lessened their
ardor--for a reason you will shortly perceive!"

"I plainly perceive already that the good father has saved us thus far
from a fright!" decided Don Ruy.

"Since a man lived through it you can perhaps endure the telling of
it--even here in the half darkness," said the priest, and noted that
Don Diego was sharpening a pen, and Chico taking an ink horn from his
pocket. The journal of the good gentleman had grown to be one of the
joyful things of the journey, and the more gay adventurers gave him
some wondrous tales to include.

"It is not a pretty tale, but it may teach you somewhat of these brown
people of the stone houses--and some of the meaning back of their soft
smiles! It is not a new tale of to-day:--it goes back to the time when
the vessels of Narvaez went to the bottom and a few men found their
way westward to Mexico."

"De Vaca and his men?" said Don Diego. But the priest shook his head.

"Earlier than that."

"Earlier? Holy Father:--how could that be when no others--"

"Pardon me:--you are about to say no others escaped, are you not? Have
you forgotten De Vaca's own statement as to two other men who went
ashore before the sinking of the vessels, and who were never heard of
again?"

"I have heard of it with great special interest," announced Don
Ruy--"heard it in the monastery on the island of Rhodes where the
white man you speak of (for one of the lost ones was a negro) had as a
boy been trained in godly ways by the Knights of St. John. There the
good fathers also educated me as might be and tried with all zeal to
make a monk of me! Ever before my mind was held the evil end of the
other youth who fled from the consecrated robe,--for he had made a
scandal for a pretty nun ere he became a free lance and joined hands
with Solyman the Magnificent against Christendom,--oh--many and long
were the discourses I had to listen to of that heretic adventurer! He
was a Greek of a devout and exalted Christian family, and his name was
Don Teodore."

Juan Gonzalvo--called Capitan Gonzalvo in favor of his wide experience
and wise management of camp, had been resting idly on the sands, but
sat up, alert at that name.

"Holy name of God:--" and his words were low and keen as though bitten
off between his teeth--"is he then alive? Good Father--was it he? and
is he still alive?"

While one might count ten, Padre Vicente looked in silence at the
tense, eager face of his questioner, and the others stared also, and
felt that a spark had touched powder there.

"Yes:--it is true. It was that man," said the priest at last. "But why
do you, my son, wake up at the name? May it be that the Greek was dear
to you?"

"He should be dear should I find him, or any of his blood!" But the
voice of the careless adventurer was changed and was not nice to hear.
"All the gold the new land could give me would I barter but to look on
the face of Don Teo, the renegade Greek!"

"But not in friendship?"

Juan Gonzalvo laughed, and Don Diego crossed himself at that
laugh,--it had the mockery of hell in it, and the priest turned and
gave the heretofore careless fellow a keener attention than had
previously occurred to him. By so little a thing as a laugh had the
adventurer lifted himself from the level where he had been idly
assigned.

"You will not look on his face in this world, my son," said the
priest, "and enmities should cease at the grave. The man is dead. You
could have been but a child when he left Spain, what evil could have
given him your hate?"

"My father was one of the Christian slaves chained by him to the oars
of Solyman the infidel Turk! Long days and horrible nights was he
witness to the lives of Solyman the magnificent, and Don Teodore the
fortunate. When the end came,--when the magnificent patron began to
set spies on his favorite lady of the harem, the tricky Greek escaped
one dark night, and brought up in Barcelona as an escaped slave of the
Turk, pretending he had eluded the swords of the oppressor after
dreadful days of bondage."

"I remember that time," said Don Diego. "He was entertained by the
nobles, and plied with questions, and was offered a good office in the
next crusade against the unsanctified infidels."

"So it was told to me," said Juan Gonzalvo--"told by a man whose every
scar spoke of the Greek wolf! I was told of them as other children are
told the stories of the blessed saints. My first toy sword was
dedicated to the cutting down of that thrice accursed infidel and all
his blood. God:--God:--how mad I was when I was told the savages of
the new world had done me wrong by sending him to hell before I could
even spell his name for curses!"

"My son! You are doing murder in your heart!" and Padre Vicente held
up the crucifix with trembling hand.

"That I am!" agreed Gonzalvo and laughed, and laid himself down again
to rest on his saddle.--"Does it call for penance to kill a venomous
thing?"

"A human soul!" admonished the priest.

"Then he came by such soul later in life than his record shows trace
of!" declared Juan Gonzalvo, and this time the priest was silent.

"In truth, report does stand by our friend in that," agreed Don Diego.
"He lived as a Turk among the Turkish pirates, and was never so much a
Christian as are those who serve as devils, in the flames of the pit.
To slay the infidel is not to slay a soul, good father,--or--if you
are of that mind," he added with an attempt at lightness which sat ill
on him--so stiff it was as he eyed the still priest warily,--"if you
are of that mind, we can never grow dull for argument in the desert
marches. In the Holy Office godly men of the Faith work daily and
nightly on that question even now in Christian Spain."

The priest shuddered, and fingered his beads. Well they knew in those
days the "question" and "Holy office" in Christian Spain. The rack
loomed large enough to cast its shadow even to the new found shores at
the other side of the world!

And plainly he read also that two otherwise genial gentlemen of the
cavalcade were equipped well for all fanatic labor where Holy Cross or
personal hates were to be defended. It is well to know one's comrades,
and the subject of the Greek had opened doors of strange revelation to
him.

"The mind which is of God and of the Holy Mother Church is the mind
for the judgments of souls," said Padre Vicente after a silence. "We
may thank the saints that we are not called on to condemn utterly any
of God's children."

"But what of the Devil's?" asked Don Diego plainly not satisfied with
the evasive reply where he had least expected it. "What of the
children of the darkness and the Evil One?"

Padre Vicente, of the wild tribes, looked around the group and smiled.
Scarce a man of them without at least one lost life to his record--and
more than one with murders enough on his list to have won him
sainthood if all had been done for the Faith:--which they were not!
Back of them crouched dusky Indians of the village, watching with
eager yet apparently kindly interest, this after supper talk of the
strange white men of the iron and the beasts, who had come again to
their land. The priest made a cigarro--then another one, lit both and
passed the first made to the oldest chief--the Ruler of the Indian
group. The Indian accepted it with a breath of prayer on the hand of
the reverend father, and the latter sent out smoke in a white cloud
ere speaking.

"Every brown skin here is a worshipper of false gods, and is therefore
a son of Beelzebub--yet to slaughter them for that won no favors for
the last Capitan-General who led an army across this land," he
remarked, "and mine must not be the task to judge of their infidelity
to the Saints or to Christ the Son who has not yet spoken to them!"
The words were uttered with an air of finality. Plainly he did not
mean to encourage blood lust unless necessary to the work in hand. Don
Diego sulkily made the sign of the cross at the Name, and Don Ruy
noted that the good father was good on the parry--and if he could use
a blade as he did words, he would be a rare fencer for sport. One
could clang steel all day and no one be the bearer of a scratch!

"Since the illustrious and much sought for Greek is without doubt
serving his master as a flame in hell, it would add sweetness to a
fair night if you would tell us how he fared at the hands of his brown
brothers," suggested Don Ruy--"and how the Devil found his own at
last. These others will be much entertained to hear what share he had
in the finding of the gold. Strange it is that I never thought to ask
the name of the man--or you to tell it!"

The priest hesitated ever so slightly. Was he of two minds how much
to tell these over eager adventurers? Especially that one of the
curses! But the truth, as he had told Don Ruy in part, was an easier
thing to maintain, and keep memory of, than a fiction dressed up for
the new man. And the man was watching him with compelling eyes, and
the boy Chico, with eyes agog, was also alert for his endless notes.

"Yes, he had to do with the gold--much!" he said at last. "He was the
only white man who had been told the secret of it."

"Ah-la-la!" murmured Don Ruy, plainly suggesting that such evidence
would be the better for a trusty witness.--Padre Vicente heard him,
and puffed his cigarro, and half closed his eyes in his strange
patient, pale smile.

"But it is true for all that!" he insisted. "And of all places we have
crossed since Culiacan was left behind us, none seems more fitting
than this for the telling of his story."

His eyes glanced over the men circled above the great pool. The stars
were making little points of light in the rock bound water. Far below
in the desert a coyote called to his intimates. Indians loitered at
the edge of the circle. And at the rim of of the mesa, and high places
of the natural fortress, armed sentinels paced;--dusk figures against
the far sky. It was truly a place made for tales of adventure.

"Whatever evil your much hated Greek was guilty of, there is one
question to ask:--in monk's cell, or in the battles for the
wrong--left he the record of a coward?"

"No," acknowledged Don Diego--"but his zeal was damnable in all
things."

"I ask because various things which he endured could scarcely be
understood if you put him in the list of the weak or the incapable."

"Often the strength of the Evil One is a stupendous force for his
chosen people," agreed Don Diego. "That is widely known in Europe
to-day when Paracelsus with infernal magic of the mind makes cures
which belong by every right to the saints alone!"

"And the people are truly cured of their ills--truly healed?"

"Their bodies are truly healed for the life that is temporal, but each
soul is doomed for the life that is eternal. No Christian doubts that
the mental magic of the physician is donated by Beelzebub whose tool
he is."

"He was a student of exceeding depth,"--agreed Padre Vicente--"and it
may be he has found magic forbidden to man. But the Greek laid claim
to no such power as that, however much it is said that the devil loved
him! He had only a strong body, and the dislike to see it cut to
pieces for a heathen holiday."

"De Soto, it is said, found a dirk of his when he crossed the land of
Apalache years later, seeking empire. But the tribes could or would
tell nothing of the lost Greek and the negro slave. The latter was
killed by the people called Natchez, and the Greek, who had been among
many things:--a sailor, escaped by the water, leaving no trail--not
even the trail made by a white skin in a land of dusk people.

"From the Turks he had learned a trick of using stain of barks and
herbs. His hair was of brown, but the eyebrows and lashes were heavy
and dark. After using such concoction, a mirror of clear water showed
him no trace of himself except the eyes--they were blue beyond hope,
but the heavy lashes were a help and a shadow.

"With stolen arms of bow, hatchet, and a flint knife, the man went
north--wading the river edge at night, and hiding by day until the
land of the Natchez was left behind. A strong river came from the
west--and an old canoe gave him hope of finding New Spain by the water
course. That journey was a tedious thing of night prowlings, hidings,
and, sometimes starvings. Then the end of solitude came, and he was
captured by heathen rangers.

"They were a large company and were travelling west. Later he learned
they were a war company and in a fight his master and most of the
others were killed. At the rejoicing of the victors, he sang louder,
and danced more wildly than all the others, so they did not kill him.
He was traded to other Indians further west for a painted robe and
some clay pots. This last move brought him to the villages of the
stream, named later by Coronado the Rio Grande, but called by the
Indians another name, the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé."

"The very villages where we are to go?" demanded Don Ruy.

"Possibly some of the same," said the priest. "How many of you
remember the great comet of 1528?"

Several did, and all remembered the dread and horror it spread in
Western Europe.

"Think you then what that same threat in the sky must have been to
these wild people who seek magic ever from the stars and even the
clouds. It was a threat and it called for some sacrifice propitiating
the angry gods."

"Sacrifice? Do these infidels then practise such abominations?" asked
Don Diego.

"To look at the mild eyes and hear their soft voices of these our
guests it is not easy to think it," agreed Padre Vicente, "but these
people are but the northern cousins of the men Cortez conquered--their
customs differ only in degree. To both Venus and Mars were human
god-offerings made--that day of sacrifice is not so long past, and in
that day it was done here."

"And?"

"And your lucky Greek was the one to be chosen! He was fed well as one
would fatten an ox for the knife. He had some knowledge of simple
remedies, and in brewing herbs for their sick he had also stolen the
opportunity for the further addition to his coat of color. He was to
them an Indian of an unknown tribe, yet, since he was to be offered to
the gods, he was made the very center of ceremonial dances, and
infernal heathenish customs.

"Both men and women enter into certain sacred--or infernal orders,
whose ceremonies are only known to those initiate. An inter-tribal
connection is kept up in such societies between villages speaking a
totally different language,--even though the tribes be at war, there
is always a truce for these wild creatures who dance together for some
magic, or some prayer to their false gods."

"And the truce is kept?"

"It would not be possible for a tribe to break truce of their
diabolical things of their spirits. At the ceremonies for the
sacrifice to the comet god was a girl of another tribe, and when the
Greek noted that her desire was not to see him destroyed, he had the
first glimpse of hope,--the only other he had was to remove the stain
in some way, and convince them that their gods had made a miracle to
save him."

The priest made a gesture towards the great sand drifts at every side
of rock wall and column.

"To which of you would it occur, if hiding meant chance of life--to
which of you would it occur to go under that sand for days so close to
the trail that the women with the water jars would pass you scores of
times in a day carrying water from this pool?"

"This pool?--this--"--the eyes of Don Ruy lightened--"this is then
that place of the great danger?"

"A man could not hide in the sand like that--nor deceive these wild
trailers of animals," decided Don Diego--"and of a certainty it could
not be close to the trail!"

"So we would naturally think," decided Padre Vicente. "But the Indian
girl was wiser than our wisdom, Señor, for she did aid his escape, and
she did hide him there. To get breath, his face was touching a great
wall of rock against which another was carelessly laid. The place had
been chosen with a knowledge that seemed inspired--for only close to
the trail where the sand was like to be disturbed by naked romping
children,--only there in all these deserts could he have been hidden
from their hunters."

"Here?--in this place?" again said Don Ruy. "Holy father it is a good
story--yet sounds a romance fantastic to fit this weird place of the
pool and the star shine of the night?"

"By the name of these people, the Queres, and the name of the village
Ah-ko, this should be the place of the sacrificial intentions," said
the priest. "By the careful account given, this is the pool to which
the trail led, and it may even be that the ancient Cacique to whom,
but now, I gave the cigarro, was chief priest of the sacrifice in that
day."

"A truly delectable neighbor for a help to pleasant fancy," said Don
Ruy and laughed. "If the amiable devil should be moved to sacrifice
now, I would be the nearest to his hand--think you he would make ill
use of my youth and tenderness?"

"His Sanctity, the padre was indeed wise that no word of this was
breathed in the viceregal ears of Mexico," said Don Diego with a
testiness not yet subdued over the question of utter damnation for the
souls unregenerate. "Piety would carry me far--but no warrant is mine
to follow even the Highest where cannibals do wait for unholy
sustenance!" and he arose and bowed to Don Ruy.

"Oh--Name of the Devil!" said his noble ward, and laughed and
stretched his legs. "I may not be so unholy as your words would
suggest. Give not a dog a bad name in the days of his youth!"

And at this the scandalized and pious dignitary multiplied words to
make clear how far from such meaning were his devoted intentions. But
if wild tribes must be fed ere their souls could be reached,--victims
could be found other than the heir of a duchess!

At which outburst Don Ruy suggested that he save his pious breath and
devote it to prayers, and to take some of his own medicine by
remembrance that soul of king and soul of peasant weighed the same
before high God.

"After which devout exhortation from your servant, good father, we
again give ear to the tale of that devil's disciple--the Greek Teo,"
he said, "Did they find him in the sand? And did the merciful dame
hide in the sand also?--if so the prison might not be without hope.
Holy Saint Damien!--to think that the man walked these same stony
heights--and drank from that pool!"

"They never found him in the sand." The priest ignored the other
frivolous comment. "They never found him anywhere, and a slave from
the Navahu people was made a sacrifice in his stead. The strange girl
was a Te-hua medicine maid or magic learner of things from the wise
men of Ah-ko. Her prayers were very many, and very long, and she made
a shrine for prayer on the sand beside the stone wall where he was
hidden. Their men set watch on her, she knew it, but not anything did
they find but a girl who made her prayers, and gave no heed to their
shadowings.

"When were ended her days of devotion to the false gods--then she ate,
and drank, and took the way to her own people; with moderate pace she
took that trail north, but when night came, she ran like the wild
thing she was, again to the south, crept unseen again into this
fortress, and led the rescued man as far to the west as might be until
the dawn came. With the coming of the sun, came also a sand storm of
great stress, and all trace of their steps were covered, and the
medicine maid saw in that a mystic meaning.

"To Turk and Spaniard the refugee might be only Teo the Greek, a
fugitive from all high courts. But to the Indian he was a lost God of
the Great Star for whom even the desert winds did duty. When with
moistened yucca root he rubbed his hands that the white skin showed,
she bent her head to the sand, and was his slave until ... the end!"

"It moves well, and beautifully smooth:--this tale of the outlaw,"
agreed Don Ruy--"but it is that end we are eager for--and the how it
was compassed--that she turned slave--or mistress--or both in one, as
alas!--has chanced to men ere our day!--was the doom expected from the
earliest mention of the pitiful and most devout lady--devout to her
devils! But of the end--the end?"

"The end came to him long after they parted, and for one winter and
one summer were their wanderings to the west. Of the Firebrand river
deep between rock walls he had heard, and of the ocean far beyond, and
of Mexico to the south. To reach the river they crossed dry leagues of
desert and lived as other wild things lived. But the river was not a
thing for boats or journeys, and they went on beyond it seeking the
sea. Strange things and strange lives they passed on the way. His skin
had been stained many times and his beard was plucked out as it grew.
Enough of Indian words he learned to echo her own tale to the brown
savages, and the tale was, that they were medicine people of Te-hua in
the land of P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé, and that they travelled to the shores of
the sea for dances and prayers to the gods there. And sometimes food
was given them--and some times prayers were sent in their keeping.
Thus was their journey, until in the south, in the heart of a desert
they found the place of the palms where the fruit was ripe, and the
water comes from warm springs, and looks a paradise--but is as a hell
when the sand storms come:--and human devils live to the South and by
the Sea of Cortez.

"They knew nothing of that, it was a place for rest, and a place of
food, and they rested there because of that, and gathered food for the
further journey.

[Illustration: THE PLACE OF THE PALMS _Page 94_]

"All medicine people of the tribes carry on their neck or in a pouch
at the belt, some sacred things of their magic practices, and under
the palms, when other amusement was not to be found, it pleased him to
see what his brown girl carried hidden even from her master. It took
much persuasions, for she felt that evil would happen if it was shown
except it be a matter of ceremony. Then she at last took from the
pouch, salt from a sacred lake, feather and claw and beak of a yellow
bird, a blade of sharpest flint, and--this!"

He again held the piece of gold that they might see it. Even the
Indians leaned forward and looked at it and then eyed the white men
and each other in silence. To them it was "medicine" as the priest
told the adventurers it had been to the Te-hua girl.

"Your Greek pirate of the good luck went close to madness at the
certain fact that for months he had been walking steadily away from
the place where this was found. To the girl it was a sacred thing
hidden in the earth of her land by the sun--and only to be used for
ceremonies. The place where it grew was a special hidden place of
prayer offering."

"Faith!--we all must learn prayers enough to get our share!--if prayer
will do the work!" said Don Ruy.--"Chico, it means that you get an
Indian primer,--and that you find for me a brown enchantress. His
reverence will grant us all a special indulgence for hours of the
schooling!"

Señor Don Brancadori sat up very straight and shook his head at the
priest:--so well assured was he that enough liberties would be taken
without the indulgences of holy church. Moreover it was not well to
put the deviltries of camp in the mind of so good a lad as Chico.

"And the girl gave to him the gold and told him its hiding place?" he
asked.

"We may say she gave it--thought in truth she declared it could not be
given--it could only be made a barter of for other medicine, but it
must be strong medicine. The blade of flint was to guard her magic
symbols if need be, and the man, her master, saw in that moment that
the mind he had to deal with in this matter was an Indian mind, in
which there is not reason. And to find a 'medicine' potent for charms
was a task set for a man in the place of the palms."

"Then a forgotten thing came into his mind. It had been a vow made to
an enticing creature of San Lucar. She was also devout as a young nun.
The vow was of a return--and no doubt of other meetings. The end of it
was that she gave him a rosary--(his first captors coveted that and
took care of it). But also they ate together of fruit, and as both
ladies and gallants do strange things at strange times, the lady
divided the seeds, and counted them seeking a lucky number or some
such freakish quest. And by the rosary, and by his mother, she made
him swear that when he had found fortune and a plantation in the new
world, he would plant with his own hands the seeds there, and send for
the lady to come by ship as chatelaine! Failing the plantation, he was
to return, and her own relatives would find on land or sea an office
fit for his talents:--only he was to faithfully guard the seed of the
fruit eaten in a happy hour, and her prayers would meet his own across
the waters.

"It may be that women with prayers for him had not been
plentiful--whatever the vow was it was made and sealed with the prayer
of the lady. When the savages took her rosary they gave no heed to
some brown seeds in a leather pouch--no more of them than you could
count on your fingers! A man alone for long in a wilderness gives
meaning to things he would not remember at happier times. And the
training of the Holy Church returns to even the most gardened men in
their hours of stress! So it was that the prayer of the willing dame
kept him company, as he looked on the seeds. They had become his
rosary--and were the last evidence of the nightly prayers promised by
the lady.

"Thus:--because of their smallness had they been unnoted of his
several captors. Having slipped between the lining and the cover of
the pouch he had ceased to remember them after the Indian maid
lessened his loneliness. But he went searching for them now--even one
peach seed was still with them--and some grains of the bearded
wheat--that by a special grace had fallen into a pocket on ship board
while handling grains, and as a jest on himself he had added it to the
others for the plantation to be made for the waiting dame.

"He could truly say they were 'medicine' given with prayers. But with
forgetfulness of truth, he also added much as to their divine
origin--and the wondrous power they held.

"Gladly the Indian girl let go the gold for the unknown seeds! She
further signified that now she could know always that he was a God,
for the gift of the seeds fitted some myth of her own land--some thing
of one of their false gods who brought seeds and fruits and great good
to the people.

"In that way was made the exchange of medicine for medicine beside
some pool by the palms, and well it was it was made that day, else
never would we have this golden guide! For:--it fell out that a day
later as he was hunting to the south, he was surrounded and taken
prisoner by the savages who range by the inland sea of California. The
gold had a hole as you see, he pulled hair from his head, tied the
nugget in the braid, and thus hid it for the next two years of his
life. The girl he never again heard of. She would die of a certainty
alone in the desert.

"A missionary of our order found the man in the wilderness. They were
exiles, the two for the length of a winter, and the Greek listened to
the tales of the lost fleet on which Don Teo sought the new world, and
also of the royal order for his arrest following on the next ship. For
a prisoner of Solyman the Magnificent had escaped from the galleys of
the Turk, and wild tales were told of princes of the North who gave
aid to the traffic in Christian slaves. Don Teo was by all means to be
taken back to Spain that the Holy Office learn through him the names
and numbers of the offenders!"

"Good it is to hear that the varlet was not let sleep sound all the
night!" decided Don Ruy.

"It appears there were many nights when sleep kept from him--to judge
by his confessions!" said the priest. But to go into deeper hell while
he was yet alive did not march with his wishes, and while he half
inclined to the desert again, that he might die quietly there as any
other starved wild thing does die:--a thing came which he had not
thought:--the padre died of a serpent's sting, and he, Teo the Greek,
was alone, and apart from the world again!

"It was the gown for which the savages had reverence--and he took the
consecrated robe from the dead padre and wore it--he had been driven
by misfortune back to Holy Church!

"He lived under the name of the padre as a priest in holy orders. His
reports to his superior were well counterfeited as the writing of the
man he had buried. He held that mission as the extreme outpost for
three years. He died there of a fever, but not until I had found him,
and confessed him. The gold and the tale of his wanderings he gave to
me. Much of it he told me more than once, for when men are exiles as
he was for those several years, the things of the old life loom up big
with significance. He felt that he was the _finder_ of _the way_, and
that mayhaps, Mother Church, so long forgotten by him, would be the
richer that he had lived. Masses were said for the girl dead in the
desert. She had saved him, and for a little while of life--he had
given her love!"

"He may have made a most righteous end--since it was no longer in his
power to do evil!" commented Don Ruy--"But your pirate priest would
never have let go the nugget for masses if the breath of life had kept
him company."

"Who knows!--the high God does not give us to see in the heart of the
other man," said Padre Vicente--"In the years of his trial he was made
to feel his sins against Holy Church--and when the girl died in the
desert, another life died with her. Even men of sin do give thought to
such matters."

But Juan Gonzalvo who hated him, swore at the ill luck of his escape
by death, and no one felt any pity for that first white pilgrim across
the Indian lands. All of them however gave speech of praise to the
priest's telling of the story. Don Ruy gave him leave to tell romances
in future rather than preach sermons.

The men were vastly interested to learn at last the exact region of
their destination--and that the province where the yellow metal had
been hidden by the sun was but a matter now of a few days more of
journeying--since the people of Ah-ko had brother Queres in
settlements adjoining the settlements of the Te-huas.

So, seeing that the guard was good, and that each arquebus was near,
and in readiness if need be for dusky visitors, the company fell
asleep well content. Only Don Ruy strolled over the path through the
sand and tried to fancy how the girl and the Greek had managed the
hiding there. A little of the story had been told him in the monastery
when the great plan had been made, but no names were given, and the
telling of it this night had been a very different matter--he had so
lately crossed the desert where those two refugees had wandered, that
the story had now a life unknown before. Even the sand billows and the
rock walls of the mesa spoke as with tongues. The mate to this
wonderful Ah-ko could not, he thought, be in the world any where, and
the romance of the young priestess and the Greek adventurer fitted the
place well and he felt that the priest of the wild places had chosen
rightly in keeping the story until they had climbed to this place
where the story of the gold had its beginning.

As he retraced his steps, they took him past the sleeping place of
José and his wife of Mexico. Beside them was spread the blankets of
Chico, but the lad was not there,--he was standing apart, at the edge
of the sheer cliff, looking out over the desert reaches where the sand
was blue grey in the star light.

"Hollo!"--said Don Ruy and halted in surprise, "do you select sentry
duty when you might sleep soft on the sand? Must I send you another
blanket to woo you to a bed?"

"Your Excellency has been most generous in the matter of the
blanket--one has been enough to keep record of your kindly heart."

"Then why not enjoy your sleep as a hearty lad should? Has this place
of wonder bewitched you--or has the story of the Greek and the gold
stirred you into ambitions beyond repose?"

The lad might have retorted by reminding Don Ruy that he also was
abroad while his company slept,--usually a glib pertness would have
answered his employer, but the answer came not readily, and when it
did,--his excellency saw in a surprised moment that the boy was not
such a child as the careless company fancied him.

"I have thought nothing of the Greek--and little of the gold," he
said. "But the woman who followed the love and the man across the
deserts--and who died alone somewhere in the sands like a starved
dog--of her I was thinking! All the magic she had learned could not
save her from hell when that one man came in her path!"

"But--you are only a lad and may not understand these things,"--said
Don Ruy--"The girl may have died like that, it is true, but the hell
in the life she perhaps never got glimpse of,--since she loved the
man!"

"But if the dead do know, would not a sort of hell be hers when she
learned she had given the magic medicine of her God for the idle
gift--bestowed by another mistress?"

Then the lad marched to his blankets and wrapped himself in them,
leaving Don Ruy the question to ponder.




CHAPTER IX

YAHN, THE APACHE


               "Brothers:--you of the life
               --Of also the fire divine!
               You of the mountains
               Of also the Mother Mist!
               Out of the mist is a voice.
               It is not the voice afraid!
               Out of the shadows,
               Out of the forests,
               Out of the deserts
               It is born!
               In a good hour it is born.
               The wind of the Sun sends it breath!
               Brothers:--the Dawn drives the Darkness
               And in the mountain strong
               No one sings fear!
               Out from far worlds it comes,
               With the strong Dawn it comes
               Brothers:--be mountain strong
               Sing not of fear!"

The rising sun tipped the terraces with gold and rose, and the nude
brown men, and the men children, faced the east with hands lifted to
greet the coming of the Great Power. This was as it had been since the
time of most ancient days.

But the song chanted from the terrace by the Woman of the Twilight was
a new song, and the men made their prayers, and wondered at the singer
singing thus on the roof of her dwelling.

The dew of the hills was on her clothing and on her hair. She had
dreamed a dream and walked in the night until the words of the dream
had come to her lips, and when they came she sang them aloud and the
people listened, and the men went from their prayers and thought about
it.

Many were conscious of secret thoughts of dread at the coming of the
strangers. The priestess had spoken of the thing no one had given
voice to.

From the day when her son had been honored as Po-Ahtun-ho, the strife
of existence seemed ended for S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah. The thing she had
lived to see was now accomplished. Her days were now the gray days of
rest and of mystery. She made many prayers alone in the hills, and
forgot to eat.

She was not old, yet to Tahn-té she said, "It is over:--The time is
come when you stand alone to be strong. Your work is now the work of
the strong man, and I go to make prayers in the hills."

When she stayed over long, he sought her out lest ill should come to
her, and more than once he had walked into the village with his mother
in his arms as other people carried the little children. It was the
Woman of the Twilight, and no one laughed. At any other woman they
would have laughed to see her carried in the arms of a man.

And so, when she stood on her terrace and spoke of the voice of the
Dawn and the Mountain Mists, all listened. The men talked of it in the
kivas of each clan, and the women talked all together, and were glad.
They did not know quite what their fear had been, but it was no longer
with them since the woman of the God Thoughts said the voices sang no
fear.

Only Yahn Tsyn-deh on the terrace opposite, strung together claws of
birds for a necklace, and scoffed warily.

"Only if you are mountain strong need you have no fear," she said.
"The promise that her son is maybe the Voice and the Dawn is a good
promise--but the wise woman of the hill caves is double wise! Her song
has double thoughts. Be you all mountain strong, as gods are strong,
and no fear will come! But if the mountain strength waits not at your
door--what then happens?"

No one knew, and the women looked at each other in question. The peace
of the wise woman's words was killed by the bitter laugh of Apache
Yahn.

When the bitter mood touched the girl, the Te-hua people remembered
that her mother was of that wild Apache people--enemy to all. At times
she could be a maid like other maids--with charm and laughter--a very
bewitching Yahn who made herself a beauty barbaric with strings of gay
berries of the rose, or flat girdles of feathers dyed like the
rainbow. Her bare arms had bracelets of little shells. Into the
weaving of her garments she had put threads of crimson in strange
patterns--they were often the symbols of the Apache gods or spirit
people, and when she chose she made the other women feel fear with
them. Her own mother who told her of them, would not have worn them
thus--but Yahn was more Apache than her mother.

One woman shelling corn for the meal, suggested that if the Te-hua
people had not mountain strength it might mean war as the people to
the South had endured that other time--when the men at Tiguex were
burned to ashes by the strangers.

"Oh, wise Säh-pah!" and Yahn laughed at the late thought,--"Has the
thing at last come to the mind of one of you?"

"I thought of it also," said one of the other women sulkily.

"Ai:--you all thought--but none of you dared say words while the new
Ruler and the wise governor kept silent to the people!" she taunted
them. "Of all the women I only can speak in the speech of the
strangers."

"Think you we will see them?" asked one girl doubtfully--"will we not
all be sent to the hills the days when they come?"

"In other villages they did so in that long ago day--some men never
let their women be seen of the white men who wore the iron."

"I will not be sent to the hills," decided Yahn. "From Ke-yemo and
from Tahn-té I know their words. I will talk for the strangers. I will
learn many things!"

"When was it you learn so much?" asked Säh-pah jealously.

"A little--little at a time all these years!" declared Yahn in
triumph. "Tahn-té wanted not to forget it--so he said to me the
words--now they are mine."

The women regarded her with a wonder that was almost awe,--there might
be something infernal and unlucky in talking two ways.

"If it be war, think you Ka-yemo will be the war chief as he has been
made?" queried Säh-pah. "He will be made second if there is
fighting,--think you not so?"

Yahn apparently did not think, but she did listen.

"We know how it was with his father Awh-we--" said one. "In that day
of trial he failed that once in the battle with the Yutah. The old
men let him pull weeds in the corn when the next war came."

The strong fingers of Yahn broke the bird's claw, and she tossed it
from the terrace edge, and selected another.

"But the new young wife Koh-pé may make the son of his father brave
for all that," and Säh-pah who was not young and not winsome, watched
Yahn, and felt content when she saw the Apache eyes grow narrow and
the teeth set. "A wife with many robes and many strings of shells and
blue stones, makes a man strong to fight for them. Ka-yemo will be a
strong man now."

"He is of my clan--Ka-yemo!" said Yahn panting with pent up fury, "he
can fight,--all of our blood can fight!--if the war is here we can
show you of the Panyoo clan how the Tain-tsain clan can fight with the
new enemy!"

They all knew that Yahn Tsyn-deh could indeed fight, she wore eagle
feathers and had a right to wear them since a season of the hunt on
the Navahu border when a young warrior had stolen her for his lodge,
and with his own club set with flint blades, had she let his spirit go
on the shadow trail, and to her own village had she brought the scalp
and the club, also his robe and beads of blue and of green stone--and
she made the other women remember it at times.

"Ho!--and will it be you who bears a spear and a shield and a club on
that day?" asked Säh-pah the skeptic.

"I fight that day--or any day, as strong as the fight any man of yours
can ever make!" This retort of Yahn was met with half frightened
giggles by the other women. Säh-pah had been unlucky in the matter of
men. Yet, her list of favorites had not been limited, and the sarcasm
of Yahn was understood.

"It is good there is some one brave to meet the strangers!" and the
smile of Säh-pah was not nice. "Maybe you go to ask for a man--maybe
it is why you learn their words--maybe the Tain-tsain clan will ask
for a white man for you!"

"When _I_ ask--I will not be made a laugh, and sent home with a
gift,"--and the other women squealed with shrill laughter and had
great joy over the quarrel. The eyes of Säh-pah blazed. She tried to
speak but her fury gave voice only in throaty growls, and an older
woman than all of them stepped between them in protest.

"To your own houses--all you who would fight!" she decided--"go fight
your own men if they send you away with gifts, but by my door I do not
want panthers who scream!"

Säh-pah sulkily obeyed, and Yahn laughed and continued her work.

"It is not good to laugh when the bad fortune comes to any one," said
the old woman, but Yahn refused to be subdued.

"It is true, mother--" she insisted--(all elderly women are mothers or
aunts to village folk)--"it is true. When the dance of the corn was
here and the women made choice of their favorites--it is well known
that Säh-pah did follow Phen-tza a long ways. He laughed at her." Yahn
herself laughed as she told it,--"he laughed and he asked why she
comes so far alone--and he gives her his blanket and goes away! That
is how he takes her for favorite that day!--he only laughs and let go
his blanket to Säh-pah!"

The old woman put up her hand that her laugh be not heard. The
humor of primitive people is not a delicate thing, and that the
blandishments of Säh-pah had been of no use--as was witness the
blanket!--had made many laugh around the night fires. Yet the old
"mother" thought it not good that quarrels should grow out of it.

"Is your heart so bright with happiness that you understand nothing of
the shame another woman may know, Yahn Tsyn-deh?"--she asked
seriously. "Säh-pah is of the free woman--and we are not of her clan
to make judgement."

"Speak no words to me of a bright heart!" said Yahn, and arose, and
went away. Across the roofs she went to the stairway of her dwelling,
where she had lived alone since the death of her mother. It was a good
room she entered, very white on the walls, and the floor white also,
with the works of her own fingers on the smoothness of it. In a niche
of the thick wall stood a bronze god, and a medicine bowl with
serrated edges, and a serpent winged and crowned painted in fine lines
to encircle it. On the wall was a deerskin of intricate ornamentation,
good and soft in the dressing, it was painted in many symbols of the
Apache gods and the prayer thoughts. From her mother Yahn had learned
them and had painted them in ceremonial colors. The great goddess of
the white shell things--and white flowers--and white clouds--was
there, and the sun god was also there, and the curve of the moon with
the germ of life in its heart. The morning star was there--and also
the symbol of the messengers from the gods. Circling all these sacred
things was the blue zig-zag of the sky lightening by which Those Above
send their decrees to earth children who know the signs, and at each
corner the symbols of the Spirit People were on guard.

[Illustration: THE PRAYER OF YAHN TSYN-DEH _Page 109_]

Säh-pah had said once that they might be devil things, and not god
things, and Yahn had watched her chance, and emptied a jar of dirty
water on her head for that, and no more women said things of the walls
of Yahn Tsyn-deh's house. But whether she deemed them holy or not
holy, she hung the necklace of birds' claws under the symbol of the
Goddess Stenaht-lihan, and then prostrated herself and lay in
silence.

After a long time she spoke.

"All this that the Apache blood be not lost in the flood of a shame!
All this that no Te-hua woman ever again sees that my heart has been
sick--all this that a double curse of--"

But in the midst of her words of whispered prayer speech failed
her--and tears choked her until she sobbed for breath. With all her
will she wished to curse some one whom all her woman's heart forbade
her harm!




CHAPTER X

SHRINES OF THE SACRED PLACES


When new things cast shadows across the Indian mind, every cloud
touching the moon is watched at its birth and at its first hours of
the circle, also the stars. And for those other worlds,--the
planets--is it their brotherhood to the earth that is sealed by a
living sacrifice as they come and as they pass again from the visible
path in the sky?

The Reader of the Stars lives often above the mists of the earth dews.
The door of the high priest Po-Ahtun-ho faces the way of the South
that the shadows of the moon and the shadows also of the sun, make
reckonings for him of that which must be noted. So it has been since
ancient days.

But for the Reader of the Stars there is a door not like another door;
even to the stranger who runs as in a race, the house of the stars is
seen and noted, and known as the sacred place for high prayer, and the
record of the God things.

In Pu-yé the Ancient--and the deserted through centuries, the
dwellings of high priests are marked beyond shadow of doubt, and each
Te-hua man knows as well the dwelling of the Ruler of five centuries
ago in Pu-yé, as he knows the door of his own brother across the court
of the village. And the door of the stars is still beautiful there in
Pu-yé.

Day time or night time the lines of ancient dwellings look ghost-like
in their whiteness. Only medicine men with prayer rites ever sit
alone in the deserted rooms. The men from the river villages on the
way for the pine of the hills used in their sacred dances, do halt to
scatter prayer meal at sacred places where the water once ran:--there
is ever the hope that if prayers enough are thought, the springs in
the Mother Mountain may make fertile again the fields of the high
levels,--for in the days of the carving of Pu-yé from the white cliffs
there were certainly many streams and wide harvests in the land that
is called now the desert lands.

And to the west is Tse-c[=o]me-u-piñ, the sacred mountain where the
lightning plays, and westward also, but not so far, is the Cave of the
Hunters where prayers are made to the Trues--the guardian spirits of
the Sacred Ways, and the wild things of the forest, symbolizing sacred
ways and sacred colors. These places of prayer and of sacrifices are
here to-day--and the way to them is marked by the symbols of stars and
of planets--many eyes see them--but the readers of them are not so
many to-day. A Te-hua man will tell you they are the forgotten records
of the Lost Others--and will sprinkle prayer meal craftily to make
amends for the truth which is half a lie. The unspoken pagan gods of
the Lost Others have endless life, and eternal youth, in the land.

All is as it was in the ancient day, except that the dwellings have
changed from the ancient places, and the priests go over more ground
to reach the high places of prayer.

In the valley of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé many vigils were kept through the
nights of the Springtime, as messages from the south brought word of
the steady, and thus far, harmless advance of the white strangers. The
treachery at Tiguex in the day of Coronado was a keen memory. It
would take much wisdom to avoid war with the iron men of the white
god, yet keep their own wives and daughters for their own tribe.

Many arrows were made--also spears and shields. Men went hunting and
women dried the meat, pounding it into shreds for the war trail if
need be. From earliest dawn were heard the grinding songs as the
corn of yellow and blue and red and white was ground by the maidens
keeping time to the ancient carols--and ever above the head of the
worker was hung the sacred and unhusked ear, which, when resting,
she contemplated, kneeling, and the thought in her heart must be
the sacredness of the life-giving grain, and the prayer of thanks
that it was given by the gods to the people.

Tahn-té, going from the river bath of the dawn, crossed the terrace of
Yahn Tsyn-deh, and caught brief glance of her face thus lifted above
the grinding stone. The steadiness of the quiet prayer was contrast
decided, compared with the last wild prayer she had come to make at
his feet:--begging for magic of any nature since the laws of the clans
forbade that she be wife to her cousin to whom she had given love.

Almost he halted, moved in his mind to speak to the girl who had
been more of comrade than had any other woman. But he remembered the
evil prayer she had spoken that day, and this was not a time to
give to thought of her anger. It was bad to have the evil wish of a
woman, but to the other man must go the cares of the village loves and
hates. All things had worked together to make him the wearer of the
white robe--to place him outside the lines of village joys or
sorrows,--his every demand was for vision of the strongly felt, yet
unseen powers. Was he the son of a god?--as in the heart of him he
still thought:--then to him belonged the fasting and the prayer of
tribal penance, and the loves and the hates of the children of
Te-hua were luxuries not for him. He was enemy to no man--and he
could be lover to no woman!

[Illustration: YAHN AT THE GRINDING STONE _Page 112_]

The old men of his own orders had taught him much of the strength of
magic which comes only to the priest who seeks no earthly mate. But
the ten years of study of the white man's magic as spoken in their
books of their gods, had taught him more. He had been witness that
their gods were strong for war, and for worldly power. His people had
need of all that power if the strangers came again and again like this
into the country of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé.

The picture of Yahn, kneeling by the fireplace on the terrace, her
eyes lifted to the sacred corn, brought quickly to him the memory of a
more childish Yahn who was not unhappy even in her wars.

And now--through the madness, which he was warned came to all men--now
she was a woman through that madness:--and a forsaken woman whom all
Te-hua watched for the revenge she would take.

They knew Ka-yemo could not marry with the daughter of his uncle, but
they knew also that he could not be driven into taking the daughter of
another man as wife,--and Yahn knew this also. Many robes, and blue
jewels had weighed down the love of a boyhood!

Tahn-té thought of this, and of the girl, as he passed through the
village to his own dwelling. Other maids greeted him, and followed him
with kindly eyes. By all women Tahn-té was told in many ways that the
wearer of the white robe need not live in a lonely house!

Yet he was not lonely, and when the marvels of the inviting eyes
turned towards him, he was always conscious of an ideal presence as if
the god-maid of the mesa had stepped between, and made harmless the
sorcery of the village daughters by which he might otherwise have been
enveloped.

Once, when he had confessed as much to the ancient Ruler who had been
his guide and guardian, the old man had voiced approval and
interpreted clearly for him the dream presence which was as a gift of
the gods, and clearly marked him for other loves than that of an earth
maid.

"But--if the dreams came like a maid also--but a maid so fine that it
was as a star--or a flower--or a prayer made human--then--"

"It is like that?" asked the old man, and the boy answered:

"Sometimes it seems like that--but not when I awake. Only in my sleep
does she come close, yet that dream has kept guard for me many days
until the others laugh and say I have no eyes to see a woman, I do
see--but--"

"That is well--it is best of all!" said K[=a]-ye-fah, the Ruler. "If
my own child had come back to me I might not have said it is well. My
heart would have wanted to see your children and the children of
K[=a]-ye-povi--I dreamed of that through many harvests--but it is over
now. She did not live. The trader of robes from the Yutah brought that
word, and it is better that way. I was dying because my daughter would
be slave to Navahu men--and when word comes that she died as a little
child, then the sun is shining for me again, and I live again. But
always when I think that the little child could be a woman, then it is
good to think that your children could be her children. Since it is
so--so let it be! The dream maid of the spirit flower, and of the
star, can be my K[=a]-ye-povi, and you will have the mate no other
earth eyes can ever see, and your nights and your days will not be
lonely. Also it will be that your prayers be double strong."

From that day of talk, the dream maid of Tahn-té had been a more
tangible presence--never a woman--never quite that, but in the smile
of certain children he caught swift glimpse of her face and then music
rang in the rustle of the corn or the rush of the river. When the
dream vision was beyond all measure sweet, he was certain of the
wisdom of the Ancient--for the dream and the thoughts of prayer were
double strong.

They were double strong that morning as he came from the river bath,
and the face of Yahn--and the thought of her love--brought strangely
that dream face to him in which there was no madness such as the
Apache had shown him when at his feet in prayer.

The tombé sounded softly from a far terrace where special prayer was
being made for the growing things, gray doves fluttered home with food
to their young, and little brown children--not so much clothed as the
birds!--climbed ladders to look in the dove cotes on his roof, and see
the nurslings there lift clamoring mouths for worms or other
treasure.

A woman weaving a blanket of twisted skins of rabbits worked in the
open with her primitive loom in an arbor before her door, beside her a
man whirled a distaff and spun the coarse hemp of which the warp was
made. Maids and mothers with water jars on their heads walked in
stately file from a spring near the river's edge--and above all the
serene accustomed life of that Indian village, could be heard the
drone of the grinding songs--in the valley of P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé there
was ever corn for the grinding, and the time of hunger had come not
often to Povi-whah.

Tahn-té felt a certain consciousness of the great content to which the
grinding songs and the steady beat of the prayer drum made music. He
knew better than the others, the worth of that peace, and quiet
plenty, for to the south he had seen hunger stalk in the trail of the
white conquerors, and no woman weaving a robe could be sure that it
would ever keep her children from the cold. The men of iron had
entered doors as they chose and carried thence all manner of things
pleasing to their fancy.

But the life of Povi-whah was a different life, and Tahn-té was glad
often to know that it was his land. The great medicine Mesa of the
Hearts stood like a guardian straight to the east and at morning its
shadow touched the terraces.

Strange mystic rites belonged to that place where the Ancient Others
had made high sacrifice. Great medicine was there for the healing of
all the nations--and the secret of it was with the gods. He was glad
as he looked at it that it was so close to his own people--if a day of
need should come they would have the sacred place more close than any
other people.

As he breathed a prayer and walked to his own door he met Po-tzah who
was the Feeder of the Wind that fanned the Wheat. He was the first boy
friend of Tahn-té in the valley and always their regard had been
kind.

"This is a time of much striving and I am glad to see you, and see
you here at my door," said Tahn-té the Ruler. "You come from the
ceremonial bath after a night of prayer. I go from the bath for the
making of many days and many nights of prayer. If my mother should
return before I come down from the mountains--"

"She will be in the house of my wife, and she will be as our mother,"
said Po-tzah his friend and clansman.

"Thanks that it is so in your heart," and Tahn-té took the hand of his
friend and breathed upon it. "My mother must not hear much talk of any
trouble to come. If she thought there was danger she would not go from
me, and in council it is decided that when the men of iron come into
the valley, the young wives and the little maids must live for a
season in the ruins of the wide fields of old, and my mother--the
'Woman of the Twilight' is to be the keeper of them there, and they
must not be seen of the strangers."

"They take many wives--if they find them--and are strongest?" asked
Po-tzah thinking of his own wife of a year, and the little brown babe
in its cradle of willow wands swung from the ceiling of their home.
Tahn-té smiled mockingly.

"Their priest will tell you they take but one. But their book where
their god speaks, gives to all his favorites many wives, and helps his
favorites to get them with fighting and much cunning, and in the days
when I was with the christian men who said prayers to that god, I saw
them always live as the book said--and not as Padre Luis said. That
man was a good man--a better man than his book--He was good enough to
be Indian--for that is what the Castilians call us--and all our
brother tribes."

"They call us the same as the Apache or the Hopi people?" asked
Po-tzah in wonder. "Why do they that?"

"The Ancient Father in the Sky has not wished them to know who we are.
He has darkened their minds when they tried to see. They are very
proud--that people! All they saw that was good in the villages, they
argued long about. They are sure that some of their tribe in some
older day did find our fathers and teach our people,--in what other
way could we know to spin and weave, and live in good houses!"

The Priest of the prayers to the mighty Wind of the Four Ways laughed
at the very curious ideas of the white strangers.

"Perhaps they taught our fathers also to eat when they were hungered
and take wives when the time came!" he scoffed.

While they spoke, Ka-yemo crossed a terrace and halted to look at
them, and Po-tzah commented on the fine beads now worn by Ka-yemo
since he had taken a wife--but Po-tzah thought the wife very ugly and
very stupid, and he would rather see his own wife even if her father
had been a cripple and a poor man,--and the girl have never a garment
but a poor one of her own making.

"Ka-yemo is the most beautiful man in the village," said Tahn-té,--"He
has fine looks plenty for one house."

"Tahn-té"--and his friend came more close and spoke softly, "you are
Po-Ahtun-ho, and you know wise things and many things. Do you know
enough to care nothing that Ka-yemo and his friends are not your
friends?"

[Illustration: KA-YEMO _Page 118_]

"Why is it that you think in such a way?" asked Tahn-té quietly.

"He knows the white strangers will deal with one man of the tribe if
they come,--and that will be honor for that man. He knows the words of
the strangers. If you were not the most wise he would be chosen to
make all talks, and he would be a great man. Not much has he
said;--but his friends say things! Already they ask what magic touched
the old men when you were made ruler. They say the Po-Ahtun-ho for all
time was born in the place where he says prayers."

"And I was not born in this place," said Tahn-té, as he looked at the
river valley, and remembered the desert sands of Tusayan, and the
island of rock on which he had lived and been happy once. "It is true,
Po-tzah. But the people forget when they say no other Ruler was born
apart from his people. Po-se-yemo came from a cave in the cliff. He
came down from the mountain to the people. He taught them to listen to
mountain thoughts. I come from a rock in the desert, and the old men
say I brought the Sign that the god made my way. We are yet young,
Po-tzah, when we are older we will know whether the way of the gods is
the way for this people. I know the words of Ka-yemo--but they are not
to be talked of. Alone I go to face the Ancient Father--Sinde-hési. I
go to the mountain of the Stone Face--I go to dance the dance for
ancient wisdom. The old men know that the time has come for that."

"Alone? No one in our day has danced alone before the faces! No one
has danced in that place since the time of the fire across the sky,
and that dancer did not live. You can dance there--Tahn-té?"

"I can dance there--By the arrow I have said it."

His friend looked at him with a strange new regard. Each knew what it
meant to be chosen for that dance of the ancient days.

There are two things a man may not do and have breath to live. The
sacred arrow is held aloft when an oath is made. If the thing which he
has told is a false thing the Sun Father gives lightening to the
arrow, and the man of the oath speaks no more, and lives no more. He
dies there in that place. All Te-hua men can tell you that is how it
is. No one asks another to make an oath.

Also no one asks a medicine man to dance before the ancient picture of
the stone in the hills. Only the unmated can dance there. It is the
dance to the Supreme Father who is named not often. He is that One who
gives earth creatures to the world without earth matings. Thus
Po-se-yemo, the mountain god, was given to a maid as her child, and
only the eagles and the shadow of the piñon tree knew. He also gave
the two sons of wonder to the Apache goddess who slept on the mountain
alone under the shadow of a rock reaching out. Water dripped from that
rock and brought the birth dream, and the dream came true there in
Apache land. Those two sons became the divine warriors. You can see
to-day the giants who were demons and who were slain by those two sons
who worked together for good on earth. The blood of the giants flowed
through long valleys and turned to stone, and the heads of the giants
are also stone now, and lie where they were severed from their bodies
in the land of Navahu. Thus it has always been when the Ancient Father
has sent the God-Thought to the earth. Only the Wind, or the Sun, or
the Mist of the Cloud has been mate to the mother. Yet the sons have
been strong for magic and works of wonder.

Thus there has been through the ages, one sacred place where men may
go for highest medicine--if they go before it is not too late!

Not since these two men were born had a man danced there, and the last
man who did so had danced without the truth or the faith in his heart.
No one ever knew if he found great medicine dreams, for he died there.
After many days they went--and they found him dead.

"Yes:--it is so," said Tahn-té the Ruler as he met the eyes of his
friend. "All may know that I go to the fast, and the dance, and that I
dance for them. It will be told from the house tops to-night, but when
it is told I will have reached the hills."

"I may not dance, but I also will fast, and I will work with you,"
said Po-tzah. "Others will work with you when they know. Speak for our
children to the god!"

Then he breathed on the hand of Tahn-té who was to do high work and
high penance for the tribe, and Tahn-té felt glad music in his heart
because of the words of his friend, and when he laid aside his white
robe and left his house, he spoke to no other man, but went silent to
the shrine on the mesa where the Arrow-Stone clan build the signal
fire to the mountain god in the night time. There he said the prayers
which were long prayers, and the people who had noted him as he passed
(nude but for the girdle and the downy breath feathers of the eagle)
halted at their work among the corn and the melon vines and watched
him at the shrine. From the terraced roofs also the women turned from
their weaving, or the shaping of pottery, and looked after the tall
bronze figure girded, and white plumed. They could see his
wide-stretched hands scatter the sacred meal of prayer, and then they
saw only a brown runner on the mesa outlined against the western sky.
He had entered the ceremonial run in which there is no moment of rest
from the mesa of the river to the mountains of the pine.




CHAPTER XI

THE MAID OF DREAMS


Indian prayer is not the placid acceptance of thoughts comforting. The
complete man is both mind and body--and all of him must work when the
gods are called upon for work, and by fasting and exhaustion must the
spirit path be made clear for dreams.

The first day Tahn-té had sat in meditation before the sacred wall of
the stone face, chanting the songs to the clouds and the yellow birds
of the sun color, watching the pictured rock until the lines moved
when his body swayed to the chant, and a living thing seemed before
him--the accumulated faiths of all the devotees in that place since
the god was born!

As the sun went behind the mountain he knew the village herald was
telling the people, and the leaders of Povi-whah would fast that night
and send their thoughts to him. Po-tzah would fast although Po-tzah
was not called upon by his position to do so.

And Po-tzah had said, "Speak for our children to the god."

He seemed to hear Po-tzah's voice, and the words repeat themselves in
the dusk, and--stranger still--another voice back of Po-tzah's! it
also spoke of children--through the chanted prayer he heard
it--baffling yet insistent.

Then he knew it!

He knew it as the first shadow of the visions which the prayer was
bringing:--it was the voice of the Ruler whose office he now held--the
aged man who had once worn the white robe and said--"If she had not
died--her children would be your children!"

The picture of Po-tzah's small brown babe came between him and the
sacred figure on the rock,--a strange thing for the voice to suggest!
A little child--in the dusk--and--sheltering arms around it!

                    "Oh You!
                    Oh--Indwelling God!
                    Come to me!
                    Grey ghost--white ghost
                    Why is the false enchantment?
                    Grey ghost of darkness--
                    White ghost of high hills
                    Make way for sacred magic,
                    Sink far your darkened spells!
                    O You!
                    O Indwelling God
                    Come to me!"

In the dusk a shadow--or it might have been a drooping bough of the
piñon tree--gave outline of a bent head above the outline of the
babe--only a strange trick of carving on the gray stone, and swaying
branches outlining a head--then the shoulders--then an arm about the
babe! To the mind of the mystic it was the visible temptation of a
black enchantment in the very presence of the god!--The strongest the
opposing powers could send to man under vows of prayer and search for
the spirit medicine of the highest thought.

[Illustration: THE SIGNAL FIRE TO THE MOUNTAIN GOD _Page 129_]

                 "Oh You!
                 Goddess of the stars
                 You--who gives the life!
                 Why is there for me false magic?
                 Mother mine of the starry skirt
                 Why for me the darkened star?
                 I, Master of spells, call to you!
                 Ho:--there! It is I!
                 Green and black spirit of power
                 Seek elsewhere your victims!
                 I seek the light--I find the light!
                 Mother mine of the starry skirt
                 I find the light!
                 I--Master of spells!"

He was no longer merely a singer of prayers now. The dance before the
Ancient gods had begun as the first stars glimmered in the blue.

After many hours of the dance all the world drifts far. There is
nothing real left but the circle where the prayer is, and the space
where the feet touch in the dull pad-pad on the trail to the swoons
where visions come.

A lone figure chanting breathless things:--not aloud now! The
utterance is only broken whispers--only a god could read the meaning
of them!

But he did not feel alone. All the Lost Others were back of him
looking on from the dusk of the piñon boughs, and there to the right,
ever in shadow, was a Presence! It stood close to the rock wall. The
arms were folded, the line of the body strong and erect. The face was
a hidden face, but if he--Tahn-té, faltered in the lines of the
prayers,--or sank in the dance before the time--then he felt that the
phantom there would become real, and the face would be seen, and that
strong Thing would come forward--it would dance for jealous ghosts the
dance of triumph--it would wipe out in mockery the unfinished homage
to the gods!

The dawn came, and Tahn-té danced the stars of morning into the glow
of the sun. The prayers had been all said, and the Watcher no longer
stood by the rock!

Tahn-té saw nothing now but the glare of the sun on the rock wall--a
spot of light in the circle of black piñon.

He no longer even whispered. His moving arms seemed no longer a
part of him--it was as if numbness was there. His feet moved
mechanically--not able to lift themselves more quickly--neither
able to cease by his own will.

The Trues were watching him now, waiting to help. There was the white
bear of the North and the mountain lion of the East. There was the
wildcat of the West, and the serpent of the South. There was the eagle
of the upper world, and the mystic creature of the earth home which
tells the weather wizards of the number of winter days.

They were all there--so the prayer had been a good prayer.

From some of them would come the medicine dreams!

The sun stood straight above,--then little by little reached towards
the mountain. It made shadows, and as the shadow of the sacred rock
touched the blinded dancer, he sank to the earth.

As he fell he strove to echo the prayer thought:--

                        "I find the light
                        I--master of spells!"

But he did not speak it. Only the eagle of his dream repeated it over
and over as it lifted him from the place where he had fallen, and bore
him swiftly to the highest point of the mountain of Tse-c[=o]me-u-piñ.
It has been the Sacred Mountain since men first spoke words in the
land. When a man has climbed to the shrine of the summit there, it is
as if all the world is very far below.

And that makes it lonely for the dweller there.

                  *       *       *       *       *

The stars were again alight in the heavens when the devotee awoke from
his sleep of exhaustion. To his entranced senses the stars were as the
eyes of the gods who watched the shrine where few men had ever danced
and lived. The wind touched the pines--and he thought their whispered
movement was the rustle of the wings of the eagle who had come in his
vision.

For the eagle was now his medicine, and the place where the eagle had
carried him in the dream was the best of all good places for medicine
that was strong.

In the starlight he again faced the ancient diety of the Lost
Others:--those Others who had carved the stone lions of Kat-yi-ti at
their entrance to the Under world, and had set the white stone bear of
the North on guard in the western hills. They did fine things--those
people who had perhaps first named the stars above. And this one
ancient cave god of the stone face was a link--so the wise old Ruler
had told him--with strange Mexic Brothers of the far south--who gave
worship--and gave human sacrifice, to a solitary mountain shrine,
called the shrine of the Sleeping Woman, where few men could dance--or
even learn the prayers of that dance.

No awesome Presence now faced him in the shadow of the rock as he
chanted his prayer of farewell under the stars. He had danced all
adverse spirits out of the charméd circle. His way was clearly marked
now to follow the way of the eagle,--there on the shrine of
Tse-c[=o]me-u-piñ he must say the final prayer. All of harmony and
all of hope was about him. Three days and three nights had he ran or
chanted prayers, or danced fasting, yet weariness was not with him as
he ended the ceremony which no man since his birth had made in this
place.

Somewhere, he would perhaps fall on the trail, and the men of Kah-po
or of Povi-whah would find him, as fainting medicine men had been
found ere this--but that must be after he had reached the shrine, and
gave prayers at the place of the eagle dream.

Past Pu-yé he went--scarce seeing the ghost walls of the older day; in
sight of Shufinne, the little island of forgotten dwellings on the
north mesa--through the pines to the cañon of Po-et-se where rocks of
weird shapes stood like gray and white giants to bar his way. He
thought at times voices sounded from the stone pillars, but it might
be the echo of his own.--He knew evil spirits did lurk along his
trail--no mortal could escape their shadows. Even the god who had
lived in the sun had been hurled to earth by them when the earth was
new, and the first trees--the pines, had begun to grow at the edges of
the ice. Since that time the Sun God only lived in the sky one half
the time. In the night he went to the Underworld, and the strands of
his dark hair covered his face. He must not let himself think that the
adverse spirits were less than men in strength--for man needed all the
medicine of the gods to war against evil!

Thus he thought--and muttered and stumbled blindly towards the north.
Into the stream of Po-eh-hin-cha he crept and drank,--then up--up to
Po-pe-kan-eh--the Place where the Water is Born, and from there to the
shrine of the Sacred Mountain, though his hands reached for help from
every tree and rock past which he staggered or crept.

[Illustration: AND REACHED HIS HANDS TO HIS BROTHERS--THE STARS _Page
129_]

Only water and the smoke of the medicine pipe had been his portion.
One may not eat the food of man, yet commune with Those Above.

The first stars were above the hills as he fell, bleeding from many
hurts--and breathless--at the shrine.

Far above one lone eagle soared, and the weariness was forgotten in
the joy of Tahn-té. The sacred spark came quickly to the twigs crossed
ceremonially for the fire on the shrine, and into the blue above, the
slender trail of smoke led undeviatingly up where the great bird
drifted as if awaiting to witness his offering of fire. Had any other
found medicine like that? He knew now that his magic was to be strong
magic, for his faith had been great--and he had followed the faith,
and found the bird of the strong gods waiting his coming!

Time was lost to him in the trance of that which he had lived through.
The day was gone, and he stood alone on the heights and reached his
hands in ecstasy to his brothers the stars. He felt the exultant
strength of the mortal with whom the gods have worked!

And when the last mountain prayer had been whispered, a reeling,
staggering, nude figure walked, and sometimes ran and often fell down
the steep sides of Tse-c[=o]me-u-piñ, and when the great dark pines
and the slender aspens were reached, he used his hands as well as his
feet in making his way, reeling from tree to tree, but holding with
instinctive steadiness to the trail of the Navahu--the ancient way of
the enemy, where ambush and slaughter was often known. Many captives
had been driven between the high rock walls. Youths and maidens swept
from Te-hua corn fields, and Navahu captives as well, caught by Te-hua
hunters in the hunting grounds to the West,--all came through the one
great pass--and the way of the trail was so narrow that to guard it
was not a hard thing in time of battle.

The rush of the swift water was always near as he went on and on in
the darkness. It had a lulling effect. The whispers of the pines also
spoke of rest. This was the fourth day of the fasting. He, Tahn-té,
had been strong as few men are strong, but suddenly in the night,
earth and sky seemed to meet, and putting out his hands he groped
through a thicket of the young pines, and fell there quite close to
the dancing water--and all the life of earth drifted far. He, Tahn-té,
the devotee of the Trues--the weaver of spells, and dancer of the
Ancient Dance to the God of the Stone, lay at last in the stupor
beyond dreams, helpless in the path of an enemy if any should trail
him for battle.

His sleep was dreamless, and the length of it until the dawn seemed
but a hand's breadth on the path of the stars across the sky.

But with the dawn a vision came, and he knew it again as the actual
form of that which had been so often the vague dream-maid of charméd
moments.

There was the flash of water in the pool--a something distinct from
the steady murmur of its ripples--that was the sign by which he was
wakened quite suddenly, without movement or even a breath that was
loud. Under the little pines at the very edge of the stream he was
veiled in still green shadows, and there before him was The Maid of
Dreams. Those Above had let her come to him that for once his eyes
should see and his heart keep her in the medicine visions of this
fasting time of prayer.

[Illustration: THE MAID OF DREAMS _Page 130_]

Not once did she turn her eyes towards him as she stood, dripping with
the water of the bath. Her slender figure was in shadow, and her
movements were shy and alert and quick.

To the dry sand she stepped, and lifted thence a white deerskin robe.
Two bluebird wings were in the white banda about her loosened hair,
very blue was the color of the wings as the light touched them, and he
thought of the wonderful Navahu Goddess Estsan-atlehi who was created
from an earth jewel--the turquoise, and who is the belovéd of the Sun.
If a maid could be moulded from any jewel of earth, Tahn-té thought
she would look like this spirit of the forest stream. Even while held
by the wonder and the beauty of the vision, he thought of this, and
recalled the bluebird feathers in the prayer plumes of Tusayan:--next
to the eagle they were sacred feathers:--the gods were sending him
strong thoughts for magic!

Suddenly the maid stood tense and erect as though listening--or was
it only the nearness of a mortal by which she was thrilled to
movement?--for she clasped the trailing white skin to her breast, and
stepped into the deeper shadow where grew the fragrant thickets of
the young pine under the arms of the great pine mothers.

Without sound she moved. His eyes watched in strained eagerness for
the one turn of the head, or one look of the eyes towards him, but
that was not to be. To mortal all the joys cannot be given at one
time--else all would be as gods!

He stared at the shadows into which she had blended herself, and he
stared at the pool from which she had arisen. It was again a mirror
reflecting only the coming day. Yet his heart leaped as he saw a sign
left there for him!

Drifting idly there in a circle was a bit of blue too vivid for the
echo of the sky of dawn--it was the wing of a bluebird, and even as he
looked, it was caught in an eddy more swift, and moved on the surface
of the water straight to the edge of the bank nearest his place of
rest.

Staggering to his feet, he went to meet it. It was not an empty vision
as the maid had been, and it did not fade as he grasped it. The
visions of the night had been strong visions, but with the dawn had
come to Tahn-té the added medicine of the second gift of the Spirits
of the Air. Above the clouds must his thoughts be in their height. The
medicine of the eagle had made that plain to him, and the feathers of
prayer lay in his hand as a sign such as had come to no other man!

The Brothers of the Air were plainly to be his kindred!

This was the dawning of the fifth day on the prayer trail. A little
way he walked, and the world reeled about him,--to escape from the
cloud of weakness he ran the way of the brook towards the far
river--and then as a brook falls into the shadows of a cavern place,
Tahn-té fell and lay where he fell. In the darkness closing over him
he heard the rustle of wings--though another might have heard only the
whisper of the pines.

When the sun stood straight above, and the bush of the sage brooded
over its own shadow, it was then Po-tzah and the brothers of Po-tzah
found him. They wondered at the wing of the bluebird in his hand, but
carried him on a robe of the buffalo until they brought him to his
own home. Then the people of his order brought to him the foods and
the drinks allowed after the fasting time to the men who make many
prayers.

When the strength had come back he spoke in secret council of the
vision of the eagle and the vision of the maid born from the waters of
the sacred mountain of prayer.

The old men debated wisely as to the visions and the meaning of the
visions. The dance was a great dance and plainly had the favor of
Sinde-hési since Tahn-té had come out of it alive;--the Summer People
would hold a long feast to mark the time, and the boys who were taught
by the old men, would be told in the kivas of the ways in which a man
might grow strong in body and strong in spirit to face the god who
lives on high in the hills.

Of the visions of the eagles they were glad--for in his dream Tahn-té
had been carried by the eagle to the shrine of power, and that was
very great medicine. It was well he had kept strength to follow the
trail and meet the eagle there.

Of the maid-vision there was long talk. To dream of a maid was the
natural dream thought of a young man, and the wing of the bird could
be only the symbol for thoughts that fly very high.

The clan of his mother--the Arrow Stone People, thought the vision by
the pool meant that the time to choose a wife had come to Tahn-té. He
had proven himself for magic. It was now time that he think of strong
sons.

The elders agreed that it was so, and talked of likely maids, and that
was when the name of Yahn the Beautiful was spoken. But Tahn-té heard
part of the talk, and stopped it. He had read the books of the white
god, and out of them all he had found one strong thought. The white
god, and the prophets of that god, were strong for magic because they
did not take wives of the tribes about them. Because of that they had
been strong to conquer their world. He, Tahn-té, meant to work for the
red gods as the priests of the dark robe worked for the white gods. He
would work alone unless other men worked with him. It was not magic in
which a woman could help. But alone he fastened four feathers of a
bluebird to the Prayer Flute of the far desert, and in the dusks under
Venus and the young moon he breathed through it softly to bring back
the vision of the Maid of Dreams.

Not all this talk was spoken of outside the kiva:--only the name of
Yahn had been said--and that Tahn-té would have no wife even when
urged by the old men. But Koh-pé, the wife of Ka-yemo did hear of
it--also some other wives, and Yahn Tsyn-deh heard their laughter, and
carried a bitter heart in the days to follow. She had no love for
Tahn-té, yet--to wed with the Highest--would be victory over a false
lover!

For the feast made for Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho, she would gather no
flowers and bake no bread, and when the dance in honor of Tahn-té was
danced, she put on her dress of a savage, brown deer skin fringed and
trimmed with tails of the ermine of the north. About her brows she
fastened a band on which were white shells and many beads in the
pattern of the lightening path--and on it was also the white of the
ermine--and the warrior feathers of the eagle which she wore not
often--but this day she wore them!

[Illustration: STRAIGHT TO HIM DRIFTED THE BLUEBIRD'S WING _Page 132_]

Also she took from an earthen jar the strands of beads of the Navahu.
With head held high she walked through the village and knew well that
she looked finer than all the dancers. Thus proudly she walked to the
sands by the river's edge, and held the beads against her brow and
bosom--and twisted them about her round arms as she gazed at her
reflection in the water. But the pride and the defiance died out of
her face when there were no jealous eyes to watch, and a tear fell on
the still water, breaking the picture.

For a space she stood--a lonely figure despite her trophies--and the
music of the dance came to her on the wind, and filled her with sullen
rage. A canoe was on the shore above; she pushed it into the water and
stepped in lifting the paddle of split ash wood and sending the craft
darting downwards--anywhere to be away from the voices of people.

And Koh-pé, of the red beads, laughed at a safe distance, and told her
comrades of the terraces that the Apache had gone fishing without a
net--she would come home empty!




CHAPTER XII

COMING OF THE CASTILIANS


Because a runner from Kat-yi-ti had been killed on the trail by a
mountain lion, and because the village of Povi-whah had forgotten the
strangers from the south in the excitement of Tahn-té's return (for
many there were who thought never to see him again!)--because of these
things it was that the men of iron rode unseen by the river, and the
alarm was called from sentry to sentry on the mesa where the workers
in flint shaped the arrow-points, and were guards as well for the
village below.

There was no mistaking the glint of sunlight on steel and helmet, and
the beasts with strange strappings. The men of the beards were indeed
at the very edge of their planted fields!

And they saw more than that, for they saw a girl who ran from the
shore to meet them. So fleet was her running that her hair swept like
a dusk cloud behind her, and the soldier Gonzalvo stared at her with
open mouth.

"By the true cross, that looks better to me than the thimble full of
gold!" he announced, and Don Ruy laughed and put his horse on the
other side of Don Diego as though to protect him from temptation.

"You, and his reverence the padre, have the records and the prayers to
your share," he suggested,--"but eyes bright as those--and lips as
tempting--"

"The heathen wench does look like the seven deadly sins for
enticement," agreed Don Diego and made the sign of the cross.

"A shameless wench, indeed," agreed Padre Vicente--"with her bosom
bare, and little but her hair as a cloak!--What is it she calls?--Holy
God!--did you hear?"

All had halted now. Pretty women and girls had been hidden in the
villages of their trail. Even if they chanced to glimpse one it was by
chance--and among the wall-housed barbarians no dames bold as this one
had been seen:--neither had one been seen so alluring.

Again her voice reached them and this time the tones were clear and
the words certain.

"Greetings to you--Lords--Castilians!"

A shout went up from the men. At last a land had been reached where an
interpreter was not needed for the woman. It put a different
complexion on the day. Tired men straightened in their saddles and Ruy
Sandoval laughed at the amaze on the face of Gonzalvo--that hardy
soldier of many lands stared as if by a witch enthralled.

"How call you yourself, mistress?" inquired the priest coldly, "and is
it the custom of the men of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé to send their wives to
greet men who travel?"

"Yahn Tsyn-deh I am,"--she said--"and not wife."

"Humph!" the grunt of Maestro Diego was not polite. Even the desert
might not be a safe place to bring youth if damsels of this like grew
in the sage clumps. "It is said to be a good luck sign when a man
comes first over the threshold on a New Year's day and on a
Monday,--it starts the year and the week aright--and how read you
this of a female crossing first for us the line of welcome in the new
land of treasure?--read you good fortune here in all that would be ill
fortune at home?"

"Save your croaking since she is beautiful to a marvel!" said Don Ruy
lightly. "If they tell us truly that the world is round, who knows
that we may not be nicely balanced on an opposite to Seville, and all
things of life and portent to be reversed? There's a thought for your
'Relaciones!'--treasure it, señor!--treasure it!

"I am not yet of a mind that the unsanctified globe theory is to be
accepted by true believers!" announced Don Diego with decision--"that
you well know!--and also you know that my scriptural evidence--"

"Is as good as that of any man!" agreed his charge who was more his
master and tormentor. "But if we halt here while you make the maps of
Cosmo in the sand, we will miss the rest of the maids, for all my
looking shows me no others on the run to us."

Yahn was, meanwhile, with great unconcern, making braids of her hair,
and breathing with more ease, and using her eyes well the while. The
piercing look of the padre was the only one she faltered under, and
that of Gonzalvo she met in elusive coquetry.

"I am alone," she said to Don Ruy. "The others feast this day. I know
your words. I come alone; maybe you want that I talk for you."

"It is true that we all want much talk from you--and perhaps some
smiles--eh? But give not another to Juan Gonzalvo--he looks like a
mooing calf from the last one he got,--and I warn you that such
special happiness--"

[Illustration: A LONELY FIGURE DESPITE HER TROPHIES _Page 135_]

"Peace!" said the padre with impatient authority. "The girl has
understanding, and it is best to move warily when the ground is new.
Are you the only one who speaks Castilian?"

"No--two more. Ka-yemo the chief of war--He is of my clan. He learn it
with Capitan Coronado."

The men closed around listening--this was the man they had heard of at
Ah-ko and at Kat-yi-ti.

"He is the shaman who learned with Fray Luis," said the padre. "We
have heard of him, and of his unsanctified devotion to the false gods.
We have come to save such souls for the true faith. And he is now
Capitan--eh?"

"Ka-yemo is Capitan--not shaman. He speaks your words--"

"And the other one?"

"Other one!"--The face of Yahn darkened, her lips grew straight in a
hard line--her bosom heaved. Tahn-té had seen and known her
abasement--also her name had been among those put aside--always she
would hate Tahn-té,--"The other one is the man of the feast. He has
danced where other men fall dead in the dance. He does not fall
dead--not anything makes him dead! He holds snakes like other men hold
rabbits." (She was watching warily the faces of her listeners and saw
them shrink in distaste)--her own face grew keen and bright with
cunning. "It is true--like this he takes the snake"--she held a wand
of willow about her neck, and then held it in both hands above her
head--"like this--and calls it 'brother of the sands.' He calls eagles
down from the clouds to him--other birds, too"--and her eyes took on a
look of fear--"and in dark nights--no--I can not say more words! It
is bad medicine to say words of witches while witches are yet alive."

"He was taught by the padres to be Christian:--yet turns back to the
false gods, and--is a sorcerer?" demanded Maestro Diego. "You have
your work plainly cut out for you, Eminence!" and he turned to Padre
Vicente--"A leader who has been granted the light, yet seeks darkness,
is but a burning brand for the pit!"

"But"--suggested the lad Chico--who spoke but rarely in the face of
the company, "is there not white magic as well as the magic of the
darkness? Did not the saints of the church deal openly in the white
magic of their god? This pretty woman plainly has only hate--or
fear--of the sorcerer. Does the dame strike any of you as being so
saintly as to be above guile?"

The men laughed at that, and Don Ruy clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well reasoned, Chico--and frankly said! We will see the sorcerer at
his work before we pass judgement. But the lady will love you
little!"

"The less ill luck to me for that!"--retorted the lad. "Her eyes are
all for Juan Gonzalvo--and for your Excellency!"

"I am sworn for my soul's sake to the troth of a silken scarf and a
mad woman somewhere in Mexico," decided Don Ruy whimsically. "If I am
to live a celibate,--as our good padre imposes, it is well to cheat
myself with a lady love across the border,--even though she gave me no
favors beyond a poet's verse and a battered head."

"A lady--beat you?" queried Chico in amazement looking at the strong
figure of Don Ruy--"and though mad, you give to her--faithfulness?"

"A faithfulness enforced, lad!" and his patron chuckled at the
amaze in the eyes of the youth. "Since this crusade allows us no
dames for company it is an ill one among us cannot cheat himself into
the thought that a gracious doña awaits his return! It is the only
protection against such sirens as this one of the loosened braids.
To be sure, my goddess of Mexico--(so says the padre)--was only a
mad woman--and her servants gave me a scratched skull. Yet, as I
am weak and need protection, I carry the scarf of the wench, and call
her a goddess and my 'Doña Bradamante'--in my dreams--that does no
harm to any one, and enables me to leave the ladies of the road to
Gonzalvo--and the others! Oh--a dream woman is a great rest to the
mind, lad,--especially is she so when she affects a wondrous perfume
for her silks!"

He drew the scarf from his pocket and sniffed at it, content to make
the lad laugh at the idle fancy, and while he jested thus, Padre
Vicente and Gonzalvo gathered much information from Yahn Tsyn-deh.
There was a feast, she told them, and all the village was merry, and
the time of the visit was a good time.

From the terraces of Kah-po and Povi-whah many eyes watched the coming
of the men of iron. But the women who watched were few,--all the maids
and even the young wives, had started at once for the sanctuary of the
ancient dwellings of the place of Old Fields. There the Woman of the
Twilight was awaiting them--much corn and dried meat and beans had
been stored there in the hills in waiting for this time. If fighting
was to be done, it should not be a quarrel for wives--as had happened
with Coronado's soldiers in Tiguex.

But the white adventurers gave every evidence of the desire to be
modest in their demands. They did not even enter the village--nor seek
to do so until the place of the camp had been decided upon. Even José
was not allowed to precede the others in search of kindred. He and his
wife Ysobel watched the terraces, and the courage of the latter grew
weak unto tears at the trials possibly behind the silent walls.

The boy Chico reassured her with jestings and occasional whisperings
until the woman smiled, though her eyes were wet.

"I shall risk my own precious soul and body beside you," he
stated,--"since my master Don Diego makes me a proxy while we learn if
it is safe enough inside those walls for his own sacred bones. He will
say the prayers for us until our faces are shown to him again!"

Then he threw himself on the green sward and laughed, and told Ysobel
what a fine thing it was to be carefree of a spouse and able to kick
up one's heels:--"If it had not been for love and a wedding day you
would be happily planting beans in the garden of the nuns instead of
following a foreign husband to his own people!"

Don Ruy sauntered near enough to hear the fillip and see the woman dry
her eyes.

"Why is it, Dame Ysobel, that you allow this lad to make sport of
serious things?" he asked austerely. "He is woefully light minded for
so portentous an expedition."

Ysobel stammered, and glanced at the lad, and dug her toe in the soil,
and was dumb.

"You overwhelm her with your high and mighty notice, Excellency," said
the lad coming to her aid. "I will tell you truly--Ysobel has had
patience with me since I had the height of your knee--and it is now a
custom with her. She lived once in the house of my--relatives. We were
both younger--and she had no dreams of wedding a wild Indian--nor I of
seeking adventure among savages. She is afraid now that her husband
may be blamed--or sacrificed for bringing strangers here--the story of
the padre at the well of Ah-ko is not forgotten by her."

Whereupon Don Ruy told her there should be no harm to José--if he was
treated without welcome by the Te-huas he should go back in safety to
Mexico to follow his own will in freedom.

The woman murmured thanks and was content, and his excellency surveyed
the secretary in silence a bit, until warm color crept into the face
of the boy to his own confusion.

"So!--Your independence was because you had a friend at court?"--he
observed. "It is fool luck that you, with your girl's mouth, and
velvet cheeks, should get nearest the only woman in camp--and have a
secret with her! It is high time you went to confession!"

Upon which he walked away, and left the two together, and Chico lay on
the grass and laughed until called to make records of all that might
occur between visiting Castilian and the Children of the Sun in their
terraced village.

Then, while the men set about the preparations for a resting place,
and supper Padre Vicente, with Don Ruy, Chico, Gonzalvo and the two
Indians walked quietly to the gate in the great wall.

Many eyes were watching them as they were well aware, and ere they
reached the gate, it opened, and the old governor Phen-tza, the war
capitan and several of the older men stood there with courteous
greeting of hand clasps and invitation.

For the first time since his marriage, Ka-yemo came face to face with
Yahn Tsyn-deh, and quick anger flamed in his eyes as he saw her walk
close to the side of Juan Gonzalvo who whispered to her--and her
answer was a smile from provocative, half closed eyes.

"Yahn!"--the voice of Ka-yemo was not loud, but hard and full of angry
meaning. "The other women of your clan have gone to the hills!"

"Let them go," said the girl insolently--"I do not go! For these
strangers I make the talks to the old men, I am the one woman needful
in the valley of P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé!"

It was the hour of her triumph, and Padre Vicente looked at the two
keenly. Here was a clash of two savage minds--potent for good or ill.

"To the council I will talk--I am of the people of your father--I am
the nearest man--I tell you I forbid you!"

His words fell over each other in anger, and his uncle, the governor,
looked at him in reproach--this was not a moment for private quarrel.

"Are you so!--the nearest?" and Yahn showed her teeth. "I do not see
it so. I stand near two other men, and am well content!"

She stood between Gonzalvo and Chico, and smiled on the latter, who
frankly smiled a response--at that moment Yahn was happy in her
defiance. Ka-yemo need not think her forsaken! She had caught fish
without a net! To the governor José was speaking; at once there were
signs of delight among the listeners. One of the old men was of his
clan--other of his people were alive--and all had thought never to
look on him again, it was a good day at Povi-whah!

José showed them his wife, who was greeted with joy, and all proceeded
to the court of the village, where, at the house of the governor, they
were given cooked corn of the feast, then rolls of bread, and stew of
deer meat.

José told of his days as a slave until he was traded into the land of
Padre Vicente, and of the great desire of Padre Vicente to bring him
back in some lucky year to his people, and also to see with his own
eyes the fine land of the Te-huas. He added also that the padre had
been very kind, and that he was near to the white god of the men of
iron, and strong in medicine of the spirit world.

"We already know that the medicine of the men of iron is strong
medicine--and that their gods listen," said the governor.

"Also Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho makes it seen that the mountain god of
this land, and the young god of the Castilian land, were maybe
brothers,"--said Po-tzah watching closely the faces of the strangers.
"Only your god made talking leaves--and our god gave us only the
sunshine to see things for ourselves."

"Where is this man who tells you that books are made and that false
gods are brothers to the true?" inquired Padre Vicente.

"It is the Po-Ahtun-ho," said José before Yahn could speak. "In
Castilian he would be called Cacique. The word in Maya for that ruler
is the same word as in Te-hua. It is a very old word. It is the head
of the highest order of the Spirit Things. It is what you call maybe
Pope. There are many priests, and many medicine men in each village.
There is only one Cacique at one time."

"Which of these men may it be?" inquired Padre Vicente. Yahn it was
who answered.

"The Cacique of Povi-whah is not seen by every stranger who walks by
the river," she said, and smiled scornfully. "He has come out of the
mountain from the dance to the greatest of gods, and after that dance
it is not easy to talk to earth people!"

"But--when people come from the far lands of a strange king--"

"That is the business of the governor and of the war capitan," stated
Yahn. "He who is named Cacique in this land has not to do with
strangers in the valley. His mind is with the Spirit Things. These are
the heads of the village of Povi-whah--here also is the governor of
Kah-po. They will listen, and learn from your words, and answer you."

"I know words," stated Ka-yemo looking at Don Ruy and the priest. "I
can say words--I teach it her,"--and he motioned to Yahn, who had
dwarfed them all with quick wit and glib speech. "Woman not need in
council. I--captain of war can make talk."

"Is not the damsel enlisted as official interpreter for one of us?"
queried Don Ruy. "I hold it best that the bond be understood lest the
beauty be sent beyond reach--and some of our best men squander time on
her trail! Since you, good father, have José,--I will lay claim to
this Cleopatra who calls herself by another name,--a fire brand should
be kept within vision. Your pardon, Eminence--and you to the head of
the council in all else!"

The padre directed his conversation to Ka-yemo, while the secretary
set down the claiming of Yahn as the first official act in council of
His Excellency Don Ruy de Sandoval.

At the scratching of the quill, his excellency looked over the
shoulder of the lad, and read the words, and smiled with his eyes,
while his lips muttered dire threats--even to discharging him from
office if the records were kept in a manner detrimental.

"Detrimental to whom, my lord?" asked the lad, who saw well the
restrained smile. "Your 'Doña Bradamante' of the scarf is not to set
eyes on these serious pages,--and the Don Diego will certainly exact
that I keep record of how near our company falls in the wake of the
Capitan Coronado's--their troubles began about a wife--thus it is well
to keep count of fair favorites--and this one who tells you plainly
she is no wife, looks promising. Helena of Trois might have had no
more charms to her discredit!"

Don Ruy said no more, for he saw that Yahn was straining her ears to
catch at their meaning, and they were all losing the words of council.
It appeared plain that all the chief men were quite willing that the
Po-Ahtun-ho should meet the men of iron as was the padre's wish--but
that no one could command it.

"Through what power is one man more supreme than others?--Yet you say
you have no king!"

"No--no king. The Governor is made so each year by the men in
council--only one year--then another man--the Governor gets no corn in
trade for his time,--and no other thing, but honor, if he is good!
Tahn-té has talked to us in council of kings,--thus we know what a
king does. We have no king."

"But while a man is the governor does he not rule all the people?"

"No--it is not so. He works for the people. He has a right hand man,
and a left hand man to talk with of all things. But when it is a big
thing of trouble or of need, at that time the council is called, and
each man speaks, and in the end each man put a black bean or a white
bean in a jar to say for him 'yes' or to say for him 'no.' That is how
the law is made in all the villages of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé valley.
There is no king!"

"We are of a surety in a new world if rulers work only for honor--and
get not any of that unless they are good!" decided Don Ruy. "Make
record of that novelty, Chico--our worthy Maestro Diego will find no
equal of that rule in all Europe!"

"It is well for civilization that it is so!" decided Juan Gonzalvo.
"Who is to advance the arts and knightly orders except there be Courts
of Pontiff and of Royalty?"

"And the royalty would be a weak stomached lot if they gained not even
extra corn for all their sceptre waving, and royal nods;--eh? But what
of this Po-Ahtun-ho--this man who is not king--yet who is supreme?"

This query was interpreted by José, and after talk and deliberation
one of the oldest men made answer.

"The Po-Ahtun is an order very ancient. When the earth was yet soft,
and the rocks wet, and the first people were taught words by the
mocking bird,--in that time of our Ancient Fathers, gods spoke to
men--and in that time the order of Po-Ahtun was made. It was made that
men could work together on earth for spirit good. When the Mountain
God, Po-se-yemo, lived as a man on the earth,--he was the chief priest
of the Po-Ahtun order. Po-Ahtun means 'The Ruler of Things from the
Beginning.' Many men belong to the Po-Ahtun, and learn the prayers,
and the songs of the prayers. When the Po-Ahtun-ho walks no more on
the earth--and his spirit goes on the twilight trail to Those Above,
at that time the brothers of the order name the man who is to be
Ruler--and he rules also until he dies.

"Then it seems your Cacique is really a king. You but call him by a
different name."

"No--it is not so. Tahn-té has told the men of Povi-whah what a king
is. We have no king. A king fights with knife, and with spear, and he,
in his own village, punishes the one who does evil, and orders what
men work on the water canal for the fields:--and what men make new a
broken wall, or what men clean the court which is the property of all.
The king and his men say how all these things then must be done. With
the people of Povi-whah the governor does these works and orders them
done, and has the man whipped if the work he does is bad work. The
chief of war does work as do other men, until the Navahu and the
Yutahs have to be driven away;--then it is his work to fight them--he
is a warrior, but he does king work in war. These are the men who do
king work. But we have no king."

"By our Lady!--'tis a nice distinction," said Don Ruy as the old man
ceased, and the men of Te-hua nodded their appreciation of the old
man's statement. "Save your quill scratching, Chico--until you are in
camp. Their eyes show little favor for the work."

The secretary obediently thrust in his pouch ink horn and quill, and
clearly Don Ruy was right, for the bronze faces brightened, and their
eyes regarded the young man with approval--the magic of that black
water might prove potent and forbidding--never before had it been seen
in council.

Padre Vicente had given a cigarro to each man, and while the ancient
speaker rested, and José interpreted, all smoked the wonderful smoke
from the south, and Chico took occasion to say low to Don Ruy:

"Of all this there is little to make record that is new. Tribes of
Mexico have such rules of life. The legends of our people say they
came ages ago out of the far North. These are maybe but the children
of their brothers who the records say stopped on the way to plant
corn, or to hunt, or to rest from travel."

"Records?--Where are such records?" asked Don Ruy derisively,--"in the
royal archives of some mud hut?"

The eyes of Chico flashed fire for one instant; the amazed Spaniard
was scarce certain of the anger in the secretary's face when it
changed, and the boy shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarro.

"It is true, Excellency, that if any Tescucan manuscripts are yet
entire, it can be only because some pagan Indian his risked death and
torture to hide them in mud hut or cave in the hills. The first holy
archbishop of Mexico made bonfires of Indian books because the beauty
of them showed plainly they were the work of Satan. Without doubt the
act earned the bishop an extra jewel for his heavenly crown!"

"Chico! If you pursue such fancies with determination you may end by
being a logician and going to hell!" remarked Don Ruy. "I fear you
lack a true Christian spirit, my son. But the records?"

"Only stone carved ones are still visible in the land of Anhuac,"
returned the boy. "The good padres say that they deal with the studies
of the stars and planets, and other such speculation invented by
Satanic power. When I wanted to know about them I was told that my
soul was in danger of the pit."

"And that frightened you?"

"Very much, Excellency:--hence my running away."

Don Ruy was put to it to know whether or not the boy spoke truth. But
his odd freaks of thought had many times the effect of an April
sunlight on a day of storm. There was no way of calculating what the
next moment would bring--but the unexpected was at least a diversion.

The smoking of the men was half over before Padre Vicente again asked
José to state that the way of life of the Te-hua people was a thing of
interest to the great king whom the Castilians served, and it would
please him much to hear more of the Te-hua ruler who was Cacique.

But the old man was silent. He had talked much, he said.

"He thinks--" said Yahn with quick divination,--"that he would like to
know of the strangers who are made welcome here:--and why they come
far into a country not their own."

"We come because we have heard fair things of these people," was the
reply. "Our god tells us all men are brothers on the earth--we come to
find new brothers."

"And if the Navahu come in the night--or the Yutah come many and
strong for the corn--whose brother would your god tell you to be at
that time?" asked the governor of Kah-po, a tall shrewd faced old man
who had not spoken heretofore. Chico showed his teeth in a quickly
suppressed smile.

"Our god would tell us," said Padre Vicente with slowness and duly
impressive speech--"that our brothers must be the men who are friends
with us."

"That is good," agreed the man from Kah-po, and the others said also
it was good. Brothers who wore iron coats would be good brothers to
have in the time of a war.

"It is as Tahn-té told us of the priests of the white god--they are
wise in their thoughts," said the old man who had insisted there was
no king in Povi-whah, or any Te-hua village--"all Tahn-té has told us
were true words."

"He told us also," said the man from Kah-po--"that the men of iron
were not friends to trust."

"They were other men of iron, not these. These men Tahn-té has not yet
seen."

The Padre gave no hint that he knew enough of Te-hua words to catch
the meaning of their discourse. So long as might be, he would keep
that secret,--much might depend upon it.

The name Tahn-té met him at every turn--this was the mysterious
Ruler--the hidden Cacique or Po-Ahtun-ho--the one chief who gave them
no greeting.

"Ask for me what the name means--the name Tahn-té," he said.

José pointed to a ray of sunlight streaming through the shelter of the
vine trellis.

"It means that."

"And for what cause is a man called Light of the Sun?"

José did not know, but when asked, the ancient man spoke.

"For many reasons, Those Above put the thought of the Sun in the heart
of the mother of Tahn-té. Sunlight he was to Povi-whah--you shall
see!"

A little boy was carrying on his head a flat basket or tray of reeds,
and on it were rolls of bread, and small melons for the feast; at a
few words he set down the tray, and darted around a corner--it was a
day big in history for him. He was doing the work of his sister who
had been sent to the hills--but for this day the work of a girl was
great work--it took him so close to the men of iron that his hand
could have touched one of them--if his courage had not failed!

He came back with a jar of shining black pottery, and placed it beside
the old man, who thrust his hand within and drew out a handful of
peaches, dried in the summer sun of a year before.

"This fruit is gathered with prayer each year from the first tree
planted by the Summer People in this land," he said. "To Tahn-té was
given by the gods, the trees, and the seeds of the trees. Since the
time when Po-se-yemo walked on earth, and brought seeds, no new seeds
have been born from blossoms here in the land of Te-hua people. When
the gods send a man, they also send a Sign. The sign of Tahn-té was
the Flute of the Gods, the trees of this fruit, and another
fruit;--also a grain of which food is made. It is a good grain. For
all of this we make prayers each year when the fruit is gathered, and
when the grain is planted, and for all of this we see why the name of
the Sun has been given to Tahn-té. The old men of the Hopi desert say
he was born of the falling rain and the light of the moon. We do not
know, but his mother knew, and she is wise--and she named him as a
child of the Sky would be named."

The Castilians listened with little enough belief in the god-given
Cacique. The peaches and the grain had, without doubt, been brought by
Coronado. Juan Gonzalvo said as much, and Yahn told it eagerly to the
council, but the old men shook their heads.

The trees were a year old from the seed when Tahn-té carried them on
his back from the heart of the desert, and Capitan Coronado had not
yet seen the villages of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé, called by him the Rio
Grande.

"Then:--" said Padre Vicente--"it is because he found new seeds that
he is above the cares of the daily life? I can bring many strange
seeds from the gardens of Europe or Africa. For that would I be a son
of the moon and the stars?"

"May be so,--" said the old man,--"and maybe so the gods would not
need a son on that day." He inhaled the fragrant smoke and went on to
make clear to these people of outlands some little gleam of the
mysteries circling holy things,--"You must be born in a good year--and
a good time in that year--the trail of the visitors of the sky must be
climbing up--up!"

"The trail of the visitors in the sky?" The Padre looked with
quickness into the bronze faces.

"He means the planets--the wandering stars," said Chico. "The Mexican
tribes also watch them when a child is born. A god lives in each
one--so they think!"

"Necromantic fancies devised by the Evil one!" stated the priest and
crossed himself to ostracise such powers of the demon from the circle.
The rest devoutedly imitated him, and the Te-hua men watched with
interest the men of iron making their "medicine" against the celestial
bodies on the descending trail.--That slight automatic gesture in
unison proved even a sort of bond between them and the dusky old
orator;--he could plainly see that the signs in the heavens were
earnestly regarded by the white strangers. That showed they were wise
to read the true things; for that he could tell them more.

"The maid who was mother to Tahn-té is named The Woman of the
Twilight. When little, the spirit of her broke in two--and she went
into the Land of Twilight. Her parents could not believe that she
would no more walk on the earth. They went to the Po-Ahtun--they
sealed her to that order--so it was, and the medicine prayer of the
Po-Ahtun brought back the breath to her. But when a spirit goes to the
Land of the Twilight, it does not come back at once--not all at once!
The gods are strong and can do things. When they want to take her
again and teach her hidden things--they take her! One Star visitor in
the sky took her when she became woman, and hid her behind all the
hills until her child moved,--then, in the far desert where the Sun
Father is the great god, there in that place she was laid on the sands
beside a well that the child be earth child like other men. That is
how it was, and she knows why the earth child was called the child of
the Great Star, and of the Sky."

Yahn listened eagerly--and with sulky frown--Neither she or Ka-yemo
had ever before heard this account of the Woman of the Twilight and
her son. The magic of it made her feel sullenly helpless. This then
was the reason why no face smiled in scorn when Tahn-té would come
sometimes from mesa, or cañon, bearing his mother in his arms as one
would bear a little child:--all the elders knew she had been seeking
the trail to the Land of Twilight where long ago she had found a god,
and lost herself.

"And this woman tells to wise men a fable like this--and is given
their faith?" asked Padre Vicente, while Juan Gonzalvo muttered that
the savages had stolen the truth of the Mother of God, and should be
made pay dear in good time, for the sacrilege!

"The mouth of the woman was sealed," stated the narrator. "But the
wise men of the desert sent men to tell the Te-hua people of the magic
of the woman. And the years and the work of her son made good the
stories of the Hopi men."

"We have here no mere juggling pretender," remarked Padre Vicente--"a
Cacique whose mother establishes family connection with the stars in
the sky, could in truth have papal power among these heathen! With all
their wise looks, and careful speech, these old men are not the
influence we have to win for progress in this land:--this man who
would place the false gods above the true God is the man to be won."

"Or to be conquered!" said Juan Gonzalvo whose wonder was that the
priest had patience with their maudlin tales of village officers, or
brats born of magic and the moon,--"If I might speak--Eminence?"

"Speak--my son."

"These people have sent their women away, and have told your reverence
only of their own things of pride. Of their real king they give us no
sight. In the New Spain of the South these under-men would be given
few presents of value, and not so much of your gracious time."

He spoke rapidly with a wary eye on the interpreters,--only José could
follow the swifter speech.

"Capitan Gonzalvo gives the word of a soldier, Padre," remarked Don
Ruy, "and it may be a true word. Why not give the gifts, and let us
see somewhat of the feast from which we have won these dignitaries?"

Padre Vicente was agreed, and spoke a few words to José who departed
with his wife for the camp. The priest gave tobacco, and while the old
men smoked the new medicine, he talked to Ka-yemo of the one religion,
and the one God, and that the great new god gave the command to his
priests to go into the far lands and carry the light of the faith to
his children who live in darkness.

Ka-yemo interpreted, and the old men nodded their heads as if to say
that was all good--but it was not told for the first time, and Don Ruy
could have sworn he saw the governor of Kah-po smile at another
man--as one who would question whether they should be considered as
children. Don Ruy did not know that one man of Kah-po had been among
the two hundred human torches making the night bright at Tiguex by
order of advocates of that same new and holy god.

The summers and winters since that time had not made it all forgotten
in the land of the great river. To the Indian mind in general, it was
plain to be seen that the strong god of the men of iron required that
many victims be made sacrifice at one time. The gods of the Te-hua
people asked but one sacrifice at one time, and the knife of flint was
very sharp, and found quickly the heart, and the spirit self was sent
quickly and with prayers over the trail of the dusk to the Light
beyond the light.

Ka-yemo alone seemed enchained by the words of the priest, as he heard
again the words and phrases belonging to that time of which he still
dreamed in the night, and awoke startled and alert.

Yahn watched him with a little frown. She did not know that the
strongest power ever impressed on his boyish mind, had been the power
of the white conquerors. He had through the years grown away from its
influence, but at sight of the robe, and the cord, and the shiny black
beads, it all came back. He felt the honor of the fact that the priest
of that strong god was looking at, and talking only to him:--Ka-yemo!

His pride made his eyes kindle and he was very handsome. Don Ruy
wondered why Yahn, his own official interpreter, looked at him
sideways with disapproval.

José returned with his hands full of the gifts for which he had been
sent. There was one for each of the men in the group, and the people
of the village pressed close around the door to see them given away.

Then Padre Vicente stood up and offered to the governor of Povi-whah a
rosary like his own, but of brown beads.

"They tell me that to you requests are made as prayers are made, and
that from you they are given again to the Cacique for decision. We
present our request and our gift. Tell him the gift is one kings have
been graciously pleased to wear, and that our request is that he meet
us at an early hour, that we may speak in kindness of many things."

"Tahn-té--you call Cacique--is not yet speaking with people out of his
order," said Phen-tza, the governor. "But this can go, and the message
can go, and on another day Tahn-té may ask you to go in his door."

Then there were clasping of hands, and friendly smiles and the
visitors were free to go or wander about the village, and watch the
greetings of José and the comrades of his boyhood. His wife Ysobel was
caressed and admired by the ancient women of the tribe, and a garland
of flowers placed on her head. At sun rise in the morning she was to
present herself at the door of her new relatives for the baptism of
adoption, and then she would be given also a Te-hua name.

Padre Vicente and the Castilians were offered an empty abode outside
the wall. Despite the scowls of the Ka-yemo Yahn delighted to linger
close as might be to Juan Gonzalvo while they all walked to inspect
it. Then the Castilian camp with its wondrous animals was to be
visited by the governor and other Te-hua men, and great good feeling
prevailed. The wise ecclesiastical head of the cavalcade had asked
nothing but gracious thoughts, and the gifts he brought had been good
gifts.

Don Ruy with the secretary, let who might judge of the new camp, while
he wandered in some surprise past the door ways decked with feast day
garlands--and above certain ones were pendent bits of turquoise as if
for ceremonial marking of some order or some clan, and instead of the
blanket or arras there were long reeds strung, and at the end of each
string a beaten twist of copper twinkling like bells when stirred by
any one entering or leaving the dwelling.

The dwelling of the dove cotes had a tiny inside verandah, and one of
the curious robes woven of twisted rabbit skins was laid over a beam.
Great meal jars stood along the wall, and beside them were four
melons, four full grained heads of the bearded wheat, also four
peaches and four pears. They were arranged on a great tray of woven
reeds, and placed without the doorway to the right. The careful
arrangement gave all significance of an offering of the first fruits
on an alter. All the other homes had feasting and laughter and the
sound of gaity and much life; at every other door many smiling faces
of old women and children met them, and the rolls of feast bread were
offered, or bowls of cooked corn. But here all was silence, only the
doves fluttering above gave life to the place. The reeds at the
entrance hung straight and still. This entrance faced the south, but
there was another towards the east and the river. The mysterious
island of stone called the Mesa of the Hearts, loomed dark across the
water and a beaten path led from that east door to the water's edge.
Don Ruy could see from the bank that a canoe was there made from a log
hollowed by careful burnings.

The silent corner where the doves fluttered, held his attention and he
returned to it. Chico it was who stepped close to the rabbit skin
robe, and saw beside the melons, the ears of wheat, and the yet green,
unripe fruit of the pears and the peaches.

The dried peaches in the jar shown them by the old Te-hua man had not
given either of them a second thought, but the two fruits grown from
trees, and the bearded wheat of the Mediterranean arranged in the
basket with the care given a sacred offering, was a different matter.
Don Ruy noted the staring eyes and parted lips of the boy, and
silently stepped nearer at a gesture.

Then they stared in each others eyes as men who look on death
unexpected, or witchcraft--or some of the experiences of this life for
which there are no words, and Don Ruy laid his hand on the shoulder of
the lad, and drew him in silence out of the shadow of the roofed
entrance.

"It is good to be where the bright sun shows things as they are," he
decided. "The shadows and silence of that place tied the tongue. How
feel you now, Lad, as to the story of Don Teo the Greek and the seeds
that were given to the maid as sacred medicine?"

"But--the man died--so says the padre--and the woman--"

Then they fell silent and each was thinking back over the trails of
the desert, and their company of thirty men--and the care needed to
find the way alive with all the help of provisions and of beasts.

"The woman had a greater journey and a more troublous one,"--said Don
Ruy. "These are clearly the fruits of Spanish gardens, but in some
other way have they reached this land. It was made plain that the
place of the palms where he left her was unknown leagues towards the
western sea, and that the maid could only die in the desert."

"He crossed this river in his travels before he saw the Indian maid of
medicine charms," reminded the secretary. "Do you not recall the
journeys with the war people? He may have bestowed upon others the
seeds of other lands."

Don Ruy drew a long breath, and then laughed.

"By our Lady!--You bring joy with that thought!" he said heartily.--"I
made sure the Devil was alive and was working ahead on our trail when
my eyes were startled by the offering of fruit and grain! You looked
as if it might be your own hair was rising to stand alone! We are but
children in the dark, Chico, and there come times when we have fear.
But your thought is the right thought, lad. Of a certainty he crossed
this country; that there is no record is not so strange a thing--he
was only another brown savage among many!"

They spoke together of the strangeness of their findings in the
village--and its exceeding good arrangement with ladders to draw above
in case of attack, and only one house--that of the doves and the
fruit--into which one could walk from the court. All the others were
as in the other villages--terraces, and the first terrace had doors
only in the roof so that a blank adobe wall faced the court and the
curious. Each great house with rooms by the score, and its height from
two to five stories, was the home of many, and a fort in case of
need.

While they commented on these things, two men came running swiftly
through the gate from the Castilian camp. One was José, and it was
Po-tzah who ran beside him. They went straight to the house of the
dove cote, and José waited without while, after a few eager hurried
words, the other slipped behind the twinkling arras of river reeds and
shells.

"What now?" asked Don Ruy coming up, and José showed fear at first and
then spoke.

"It is your own horse to which it has happened, Excellency," he said.
"The padre say it is not the fault of any one, for the bush is high
there, and who could see through them? But it is the snake--the one
you say has the castanets in the tail, and it has put the poison in
the foot of your horse!"

Don Ruy swore an oath that was half a prayer, and the pert secretary
did the first thing that was familiar since he was seen with the
company--he laid his hand on Don Ruy's shoulder and felt that the
horse lost was as a brother lost, and Chico had a fancy of his own to
caress it, and even burnish the silver of his bridle.

"And--why come you here to this house?"

"Here is the one man who knows the ways of the snake--if he is not in
prayer they think he may come--but not any man can know what the
Po-Ahtun-ho may do--and the horse beautiful may die on our first day
in Povi-whah!"

But the reeds with their copper and shell tassels tinkled, and Don Ruy
looked to see the old medicine man of spells and charms come forth.

He saw a man young as himself and more tall. Almost naked he was, with
only the white banda in which was a blue bird's feather--the girdle
and moccasins. One glance he gave Don Ruy and his companion, bent his
head ever so little in acknowledgement of their presence, and then ran
beside his friend Po-tzah with the easy stride of the trained runner.
Whatever his knowledge of the snake might be, he waited for no words,
but moved quickly.

Many men were about the animal and Don Diego had bound tightly a cord
of rawhide about the knee, and water was being poured on the foot. But
Te-hua and Castilian alike stood aside as the swift nude figure came
among them--and without word or question went straight to the hurt
animal.

The other natives had approached the four-footed creatures with a
certain curiosity--if not awe, and there had been more than a little
scattering of prayer meal when the mules were hobbled. The braying of
one of them had caused terror in the hearts of the older men.

But this man took no heed of the groups of men or of animals. He led
the injured steed out of the pool of water, and with a knife of the
black flint cut the bandage--to the extreme distaste of Don Diego, who
had been chief surgeon.

Then, still without words to the people, he did a strange thing, for
he knelt there on the ground and leaned his shoulder against the leg
of the horse, and slipped slowly, slowly down until his cheek touched
the pastern, and his strong slender hands slid downward again and
again over the leg of the animal while his lips moved as though in
whispered speech to the ground itself.

No man spoke for a long time, but some of the elder men cast prayer
meal that it fell on the kneeling savage and on the horse, and the
animal reached down and rubbed its nose on his shoulder as if he had
been its well known and long belovéd master.

Curious were all the Castilians, but Juan Gonzalvo, who had spent time
in speech with Yahn Tsyn-deh, was more than curious. Like a tiger cat
above its prey he stood frowning at the silent "medicine" of the naked
worker in devilish arts.

Then the kneeling man arose and spoke in Castilian.

"It is good," he said. "It is done," but he did not lift his eyes from
the ground. The task of some prayer was yet unfinished--and he turned
again towards his home and walked swiftly and the horse followed him
until Juan Gonzalvo caught it and gave careful heed to the stricken
foot, and could see no sign where the swelling should be.

"It is big medicine," said the Te-hua men. "Now our brothers, the
strangers have seen that our god is strong and our men to work are
strong."

"It is sorcery of the devil," said Juan Gonzalvo. "Some medicine he
had in his hands--some medicine we could not see. No physician in all
Europe has skill to cure by such magic. Is it like that a naked savage
should know more than the learned professors?"

"No:--it is not to be believed," assented Don Ruy--"but thanks to the
Saints it is true for all that!--and that silent youth is after all
Tahn-té the Cacique!"

"No--" said Padre Vicente with decision--"the sooner that office is no
longer his the sooner do we arrive at that which brought us here. That
is Tahn-té the worker in accursed red magic--Tahn-té the sorcerer!"




CHAPTER XIII

A PAGAN PRIEST IN COUNCIL


Little else was spoken of in the camp of the Castilians, but the
witchcraft of the noble steed. The more pious picketed their own
animals at a respectful distance from the one healed by sorcery.

Don Diego took the healing as a sign that the Evil One walked openly
between the rows of the adobe dwellings, and that the field camp was a
safer haven than a house whose every corner was, without doubt, a
matter of unsanctified prayer in the building.

Others there were who had grown weary of drenchings of summer rains,
and Yahn, hearing their arguments, warned them that old Khen-yah the
rain priest was making medicine for more corn rains--they could easily
hear his tombé if they but hearkened.

"That we can easily do without any strain to our ears," agreed Don
Ruy--"but what of that? Is a piece of hide tied around a hollow log to
serve as thunder from which the rain must come, whether or no?"

The girl did not grasp his raillery and liked it little. When Don Ruy
spoke to her--or spoke of her, she felt she was being laughed at. Only
her determination to be in some way a power through these strange
people, kept her from betraying her anger.

"The rain comes," she stated coldly. "The drum of Khen-yah never rests
in quiet until it does come. One night and one day he has made
medicine--soon it must come."

"Then I cast my vote for the cover of a solid roof, gentlemen,"
decided Don Ruy. "I've had one taste of their red magic--it was speedy
and effectual. If the old magician should decide to send us a flood,
the sorcery would not be so much to my liking."

After some further discourse all agreed to accept the offered
dwelling, though Don Diego warned Don Ruy it was unwise to speak in so
light a manner of the power of the Evil One when it was rampant in the
land. Already he had taken up the valiant battle for converts. His
success was gratifying in that one woman had without understanding,
yet with pleasurable smiles listened to the credo, and had accepted
with equal gratification a string of blue beads of glass, and a
rosary.--It was Säh-pah. She had found courage to slip alone into the
camp while Yahn talked in the village. After the little matter of the
beads she at once became as a shadow to Don Diego, who had great
confidence of leading her away from her false gods. When he stated his
pious hope to the official interpreter of Don Ruy, that damsel seemed
little gifted with the devout apprehension or sisterly affection so
much to be desired in females. She was angry because of the blue
beads, and later, when the sulkiness had departed enough that her
tongue found again its right usage, she stated that the pious Don
Diego would find little trouble in leading Säh-pah to any place he
chose--nor would any other man who wanted a convert!

Whereupon the eager and pious gentleman gave thanks--let the others
discuss civil or ecclesiastical rule among the savage people--or even
risk their souls in dealings with sorcerers, but he had made the only
convert on this first day, and thus it was recorded by the secretary
on the first page of the "Relaciones" pertaining to the chapters of
Povi-whah, in that part of the "Province of New Spain in the Indian
Island which is refreshed by the majestical stream called in the
savage language P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé, but the same called by the Castilians
the Rio Bravo and the Rio Grande del Norte."

Yahn Tsyn-deh took with all seriousness her office as an adjunct of
the Castilian camp, and Ka-yemo who also gave help in the tradings for
corn, and for wood, and the various needs of the camp, found her there
always except when she slept, and he went back and forth like a
tethered beast, and dared not command her. He had not thought about
her except to laugh in anger ever since a dawn when he had walked out
of her dwelling because of her witch's temper and her tongue of a
fiend:--and that day he had gone straight as the ravens fly, to the
house of his oldest relative, and told him he wished to be married as
early as might be to Koh-pé, the daughter of Tsa-fah. Then to the
wilderness he had gone hunting, leaving all of trouble behind him
while the two clans made the marriage.--When he came back again to his
people all was decided--and he laughed loud in the face of Yahn--and
passed her by, and carried fresh killed rabbits to the door of
Koh-pé.

That was how it had ended between them. Not once afterwards had he
spoken to her until he met her as she walked triumphant and very proud
beside the Castilians at the gateway. Triumphant and very proud did
she continue to walk, and insolent were her eyes when she let them
rest on the husband of Koh-pé. In vain he talked to the governor that
she might be banished with the other women who were young. Ka-yemo
found himself laughed at by the Te-hua men;--was he angry because the
Castilian capitan of war could give the girl beads of red shell and
bracelets of white metal--while he--Ka-yemo--had not given her even
meat from the hunt all those summers and winters when she had been his
love?

So the men laughed--and told him each new gift given to the one woman
who knew Castilian words--and he laughed also as one does who cares
little, but in his heart was growing rage such as he had never known
could be in him. The man who was sentinel of Povi-whah while the stars
shone was visited in the night by Ka-yemo the chief of war, and the
governor Phen-tsa was well pleased when he heard it. To be married
had, he thought, made a stronger man of Ka-yemo, for never before had
he watched with the sentinel through the night, except the nights of
the young moon when it was part of his work to watch, and to make
reports of the things in the sky to the Po-Ahtun-ho.

And no one guessed that while his visit to the sentinel on the highest
terrace had been brief--his walks past the dwelling of Yahn Tsyn-deh
had been many, and first and last had he halted and lay flat on the
roof and put his soul into his ears to know that she slept soundly,
and--alone!

Then, angry in his heart with everybody--he went to the kiva of his
clan where all the boys and the men slept--and the sun was high and
even the youngest boy had gone out to eat before he wakened and looked
on the world. When he did so he found that many visitors were abroad.
From Po-ho-gé--and Oj-ke--and Na-im-be and even far Ui-la-ua were men
sent by council as if to a feast. The presence of all these men meant
that they burned to know why the men of iron had come to the North.

They all spoke first with the governor, as was courtesy, and then on
his good report of their good intent--they all approached the door of
the Castilians, where smiles and greetings were exchanged, and those
who breathed on the hand of the adventurers were asked also to kiss
the silver figure on the cross of the padre, which they did with all
courtesy since their hosts required it, and then with smoke to the
pagan gods of the four ways, they all entered into converse of great
intent, though the meanings at times were not so clearly understood
each by the other, for all the help of José and of Yahn.

To tell an Indian that the Sacred Four Ways means not anything to the
greatest of all gods, is a thing of confusion, more especially so when
told that a sacred three is the real combination by which entrance to
the paradise of an after life is made beyond all question a thing of
certainty.

To the adventurer of the 16th century dire mishaps were to be expected
if the Faith was not thus clearly borne, and set plainly before the
heathen. Let him reject it if he choose, and die the absolute death of
body and soul for such rejection,--let the search for gold or jewel be
postponed as may be, but the first duty under authority civil or
ecclesiastic must be the duty to the faith in the One God and Him
crucified:--it opened the portal in a god-fearing, orthodox manner to
any traffic deemed of advantage to the adventurers who bore the faith,
and the cross;--on the hilts of swords!

The visitors listened with ceremonial courtesy to the words of the
padre--and heard of the glories of the great Castilian king, the
chosen of God--the pure and undefiled, and, of the still greater
monarch above the skies, served by this king and by all righteous
people to all ends of the earth.

In reply to which godly disquisition, the spokesman of Na-im-be and
Te-tzo-ge invited the followers of the True God to a feast where only
strong men could come. The women of the dance in that feast were
strong and were young. Four days would the dance and the feast last.
The padre who spoke for the high god could choose which of his men
could enter the dance for that time.

The padre heard without special wonder, he had known many primitive
people; but Don Diego was lost in amaze as the details were spelled
clearly for his understanding.

"It is worship of Pan driven out of Greek temples to find lodging in
this wilderness!" and he crossed himself with persistence and energy,
and marvelled at the quiet of Padre Vicente. Or, "it is the ancient
devils of Babylon to which these heathen give worship--Saint Dominec
hear them! They would instruct their very gods in creation!--Blasphemy
most damnable!--Blasphemy against the Ghost!"

Whereupon he went in search of his secretary to make record of the
abomination, and found that youth witnessing the pagan baptism by
which Ysobel was made a daughter of her husband's clan--each way he
turned he found primitive rites bewildering and endless! All work done
was done in prayer to their false gods. From the blessing of the seed
corn laid away in the husk, until the time when it was put in the
earth,--and the first ear ready for the roasting fire--at each and
every stage he was told of special ceremonies required,--and as with
the corn, so with the human plant--at each distinctive stage in the
growth of a man or woman child, open ceremonial thanks was given to
their deities whose names were too depraved for any Christian man to
remember.

Where the pious Señor Brancedori had expected a virgin field for a
wondrous mission, he found an ancient province with ceremonies
complicated as any of ancient Hebrew or Greek tradition. Each little
toddler of the clan put forth a baby hand to touch the head of Ysobel
in sign of welcome, and one woman came whose brow was marked with
piñon gum--and he was told that the sign was that of maternity;--all
who were to be mothers must wear a prayer symbol to the Maiden Mother
of the god who was born of a dream in the shadow of the piñon tree!

"Do I myself dream while wide awake, or do I hear this thing?" he
demanded of José, in sore distress to divide the false from the true,
and impress the last on those well satisfied minds. "Is it miracles as
well as sorcery their misled magicians make jugglery of? When did this
thing happen of which the shameless wenches parade the symbol?"

Yahn asked of an aged Te-hua man the question, and the man squatted in
the sun and began ceremoniously:

"_Han-na-di Set-en-dah-nh!_ It was in the ancient day when the people
yet abode in the cliff dwellings of the high land. It was the time of
the year when the stars danced for the snow, and as the time of the
Maid-Mother came close, the sun hid his face a little more each day,
and the longest night of all the nights in the year was the time of
that birth of the god Po-se-yemo. The sun went away on the south trail
and would not look on the earth until the god-child was born, for the
Maid-Mother was much troubled, and the sun was sad because of her
trouble. That is how it was, and each year the people remember that
time, and make ready for the twilight trail if the god in the sun
should not come again from the south,--but each time the sun god
listens to the prayers and comes back and all are very glad.
_Han-na-di Set-en-dah-nh!_"

Maestro Diego seated himself in a disconsolate mood at this artifice
of Satan thus to engraft heathen rubbish on the childish minds of the
natives:--for that they did lean on that faith the mark of the piñon
symbol was a witness before his eyes! It was a thing to dishearten
even a true believer, and he feared much that Padre Vicente passed
over many signs of the devil worship each hour--not realizing that it
must be dug out, root and branch, ere the planting of the cross would
mean aught but the Ways of the Four Winds to these brown builders of
stone and mortar, and weavers of many clothes!

Juan Gonzalvo found him there disconsolate.

"Not any wondrous thing of the Blessed Twelve can you recite to the
animals and win even a surprise," he lamented to this pious comrade in
the cause.--"To tell them that the eye of their creator watches them
from the skies is to bring only a retort that the great god has as
many eyes as the stars--and sees through all of them at once! Their
deceitful visions are such that even the miracles make naught of
wonder in their darkened souls. They are not of doubting minds like to
Thomas the tardy!--they accept all the records of the Faith as they
would accept a good dinner--and then tell you that the fair victuals
in the pot had been cooked by themselves time out of mind in a
different, and more seasonable way! Everything but Satan himself do
they believe, him they deny previous acquaintance with until told by
me of his reality!--but in secret there is not any doubt that they do
give him worship since he of course inspires their devilish heresies.
Padre Vicente has the work of a saint facing him in this place, since
only a miracle can make them Christian men!"

Gonzalvo was of the opinion that the good padre was disturbed over
temporal things requiring prayer and thought. Between their visitors
of the morning, discourse had been made of the fruitless quest of
Capitan Coronado for the smile of the sun which became yellow metal in
the earth. It was secret speech, for neither of the interpreters had
disclosed it. The quick ear of Padre Vicente had caught the meaning.
Also the visitors from other villages were plainly here to see what
action the Po-Ahtun-ho of Povi-whah was to take, and there were some
who deemed him too youthful to be a leader--which the padre gave
agreement to. Also it was clear to his reverence that the youthful
magician was the guardian of the gold, and must in some way be bought
or mastered.

While they talked, and weighed as might be the complications to be
met, a messenger from the governor came to them, and touched them with
a slender wand of office that they follow him. As they did so, José
came to them, and said that at last it was plain the Cacique meant to
see both red and white visitors in the kiva of the Po-Ahtun. No secret
things could be spoken to him,--all must hear the talk with the
strangers! José was to go, and Ka-yemo the war chief, every one who
knew both Te-hua and Castilian words--every one was to go but the
damsel Yahn Tsyn-deh.

The governor and the Ka-yemo appeared dressed in their most gorgeous
robes of fur, feathers, and painted skins. Also Ka-yemo wore much of
the wealth of his wife in shell beads about his neck.

Taking a timely hint, Don Ruy appeared in unusual magnificence. He
carried the standard of Spain and walked beside the padre who bore the
cross. Behind them came Chico the secretary bearing the embroidered
vest and cap of Don Diego with which they made him grand when they
discovered him on the way.

Half the Castilians marched in order in the rear and formed for guard
at a respectful distance under Capitan Gonzalvo. Seeing that all was
well, he mounted the steps to the roof, and was the last to descend
into the sanctuary.

One Te-hua sentinel stood on guard for his people at the place of
council, and the serene life of the village went on as if no mail clad
men were within its walls, only the children who were small, and the
boys who were curious, loitered close and wondered of what the men of
the beards wove their armor, for the water bottles woven of reeds and
plastered with gum of the piñon had that same glazed surface. Strange
things must grow where these men grew!

In the circle of the council home it was an impressive line of men who
faced each other in silence. Chico half in earnest, announced in a
whisper to Don Ruy that the ladder of the entrance would be his choice
of a seat;--so as to be nearest the outside world in case of trouble.

Shadowy it was in the great room where only the way of the sky gave
light, and the only seat was that built around the wall--and to Don
Ruy was like to pictures of the old Roman ruins. The walls were white,
and there were lines and strange symbols in pale green, and in
yellow:--the colors of the Summer People. An altar of stone was
directly under the ladder, and the light from above fell on the
terraced back of it--typifying the world of valley, and mesa, and
highest level. A ceremonial bowl of red ware echoed this form on its
four terraced sides. It held white and yellow pollen, and the sacred
corn of four colors formed a cross with the bowl as a center;--all
this was placed before the statue of a seated god carved from red
stone. The arms were folded and the pose was serene--waiting! But as
fragrant bark was tossed on the sacred fire below him,--and a flame
awoke for a moment, the eyes reflected the light in a startling
way--as though alive! Then the strangers saw that the eyes were of
iridescent shell set in the carven stone,--and more strange than all
was the fact that the god of the altar was a weeping god, and the tear
under each eye was also of the strange shell mosaic. It was the
Earth-Born God who had been driven out by the proud hearts of the Lost
Others. Weeping, he waited the Sign in the Sky by which he was to
return. His name meant Dew of Heaven--and the Dew and the Sun must
work together for the best life of growing things, and of human
things.

Among all the swart elderly faces it was an easy matter to pick the
man who had given back to him the steed. The eyes of Don Ruy sought
him eagerly, and more than ever wondered at the youth of him, and the
countenance fairer than many a Castilian of their land. The other
glimpses of him had been brief, and when kneeling by the horse, his
face had been all but hidden.

He wore no ceremonial festive garb as did the others. The white robe
of deerskin was folded about him, and he gave no heed to the
different visitors who entered. His eyes were on the floor as though
in meditation, and in silence he accepted the sacred smoke, and then
glanced towards the place where the governor sat always when in
council. After that one little look there was no longer silence. The
padre, watching the impassive young face, observed that one glance was
all that was required of command. And the governor of Povi-whah arose
and spoke.

He told to the brothers and neighbors of the coming, and the kindly
coming, of the Castilians to bring back in safety one Te-hua man who
had been carried far south as a slave. The man of the grey robe was
the priest of the Castilian god, and that god had sent him to say that
all men must be brothers, with the god in the sky for a father. These
new brothers brought good gifts and tokens from their king. The king
said his children would also help fight the wild Apache and Navahu and
Yutah in the day when they came to kill and take captives.

Smiles went over many faces in the circle. Nods of approval gave good
hope for the Castilian cause.

Then the governor of Kah-po arose.

This coming of the strange brothers was good, he agreed. It was much
for nothing. How many fields for corn would the Castilian brothers ask
for such help in battle?

The padre lifted the cross, and stood up, and the Castilians knelt on
the stone floor with heads low bowed.

"Of fields of mortal man we ask no more than the corn we eat--" he
said--"but the great god decreed that each soul for salvation must be
written by the priest in the great record. Baptism must they
accept,--and new prayers to the true god must they learn. Out of the
far land had the true god made the trail that the faith be carried to
the Te-hua people. Under the cross he wished to give the sacrament of
baptism."

The kneeling Castilians impressed the pagan men more than might have
been hoped. They were strong--yet they were as bidden children under
that Symbol. It was big medicine! Ka-yemo found his own head bowed
lower and lower--the spell of the older days was working!--when he
lifted his eyes, it was to see the brief glance of Tahn-té rest on
him. He sat erect again as though a spoken command was in that look.
All this saw Don Ruy, and all this saw the padre, and his teeth locked
close under his beard.

Many were the exchange of thought over faiths old and faiths new in
the land, also of the ancient republics, the Pueblos, and the interest
of the majestic ruler who was king of Spain and the Indies was made
manifest by his subjects. Of many things did they speak until all the
old men had spoken, and it was plain to be seen that the Castilians
were not unwelcome. The winning courtesy of Don Ruy made many friends,
and the wise brain of the padre made no mistakes. Yet of the one
central cause of the quest not any one had spoken, and the silent
Cacique had only designated by a glance or a motion of the hand who
was to be the next spokesman. He was the youngest of all, and he
waited to listen.

Then, when the smoke had been long, and silence had been long, Tahn-té
the wearer of the white robe arose. For a space he stood with folded
arms wrapped in the mantle of high office, and quietly let his gaze
rest on one after another of those in the circle, halting last at
Ka-yemo whose glance fell under his own--and whose head bent as under
accusation.

[Illustration: TAHN-TÉ STEPPED FORWARD _Page 179_]

Tahn-té smiled, but it was not a glad smile--he had seen that the old
magic of the gray robe was holding the war chief in thrall to the
strangers.

Then Tahn-té stepped forward from the seat of council--and threw aside
the white robe, and slender and nude as the Indian gods are nude but
for the girdle, and the medicine pouch, he stood erect, looking for
the first time direct and steadily into the eyes of Padre Vicente. The
circle of the council room might have been an arena and only those two
facing each other and measuring each other.

While one might count ten he stood thus silent, and Don Ruy could hear
his own heart beat, and Chico clutched at the embroidered doublet of
Don Diego, and wished for the sound of any man's voice.

Then Tahn-té smiled as the eyes of Padre Vicente wavered, as Ka-yemo's
had wavered--the boy who had tamed serpents felt the strength of the
hills with him. Always he felt strong when he stood alone!

From the medicine pouch he took the gift of the rosary, and held it
aloft that all might see, and the silver Christ on it caught the light
from the opening in the roof, and swung and circled like a thing
alive.

"Señores"--he said in Spanish though slowly, as one little used to the
speech--"one of those among you has done me the honor to send me a
gift and a message. I was making prayers at that time,--I have not
been free to return thanks until now in the council. I do so, and I
speak in Spain's words as this is not a Te-hua matter. It is a gift
from a Christian to a Pagan, and the message told me a king would be
proud to wear this strand of carven beads. Señores:--I am no king,
kings give royal bounties to each giver of a gift. I stand naked that
you see with your own eyes how little I can accept,--since in return
I can give not anything! Take back your kingly gift, Señor Priest:--I
cannot exchange for it even--a soul!"

He stepped lightly as a panther of the hills across the open space and
let fall the beads into the hands of Padre Vicente.

"That you may save it for the king, Señor!" he said gently, and bowing
with more of grace than a courtier who does homage, he returned to his
place.

Padre Vicente turned gray white under the tan. Don Diego crossed
himself and muttered a prayer. Juan Gonzalvo uttered an expletive and
half smothered it in a gasp as the face of Tahn-té caught the light
for one instant.

"Blood of Christ!"--he whispered--"look at his eyes--his eyes!"

Don Ruy caught the arm of the man and pressed it for warning to
silence. When he turned a more composed face to the circle, the
secretary was looking at him and there was something like terror in
the face of the lad. Each knew the thought of the other--each
remembered the words of Juan Gonzalvo at Ah-ko,--also the basket of
the sacred first fruit at the portal under the dove cote--also the
blue eyes of the Greek--blue with lashes so long and so heavy that
black might be their color. The pagan priest would need all the help
of his gods if Juan Gonzalvo caught this thought of theirs!

Padre Vicente recovered himself, kissed the crucifix and slipped it
within his robe.

"The words of this man are the words Satan is clever in coining when
the false gods speak and reject the true," he stated quietly. "My
children, we must not hold this against the weak human brother.
The devils of necromancy and sorcery are stubborn--but ere this
the stubbornness has been broken, and the saints have rejoiced! It
is plain that devilish arts could not prosper where the Image
remained--hence it has been given back! Make no mistake my children,
where the word of God, and the Image rest,--there the pagan powers
must ever grow weak. Thanks be that this is so! Remember it--all of
you when you pray!"

Don Diego started his prayers at once, while Juan Gonzalvo leaned
forward and stared at the pagan sorcerer like a hound held in leash.

The Te-hua men had heard only gentle tones from Tahn-té and thought
little of the strange change in the faces of the Castilians.--Tahn-té
many times said surprising things--that was all!

But Tahn-té, listening closely to the priestly admonition as Padre
Vicente grasped all the meaning of it. He was being branded as a
worker of evil magic--a _sorcerer_--the most difficult accusation of
all to fight down in an Indian mind!

He looked from face to face of the strangers--halted at the secretary,
but seeing there either fear or sympathy--his eyes sought further, and
rested on Don Ruy.

Then he drew from his medicine pouch a second rosary, a beautifully
wrought thing of ebony and gold.

"Señor" he said,--"if I mistake not, it was your animal I helped but
yesterday. Is it not so?"

"It was in truth--and much am I in your debt for that help!" said Ruy
Sandoval with heartiness--"it is no fault of mine that I am late in
rendering thanks. You deny that you are king--yet I have known majesty
easier to approach!"

"And the animal is now well, and shows no marks of the Christian's
Satan?"

"Sound:--every inch of him!"

"Thanks that you say so, and that you do not fear to say so," said
Tahn-té. "Since it is so, it makes clear that the printed word, or the
graven image is no weight to True Magic, even when taught us by pagan
gods! For ten years I have read, day time and night time, all there is
to read in the books of your church left by Padre Luis--also all the
other books left by the men of Señor Coronado's company, and by Padre
Juan Padilla who died at Ci-bo-la. Side by side I have studied the
wisdom of these books, and the wisdom of our ancient people of the
Te-hua, as told to me by the old men. One has never held me from
seeing clear that which I read in the other, and the graven image has
only the Meaning and the Power which each man gives to it! It was with
me when I took away the sting of the Brother Snake. Padre Luis was a
man who would have been a good man in any religion--that is why I kept
this symbol of him--not for the crucified god on it! But for the sake
of the god, is it sacred to you because your heart tells you to think
that way. It is right to be what a man's heart tells him to be. I give
you the prayer beads. I give it to you because your horse helped me to
show your people that the pagan gods are strong, if the heart of the
man is strong!"

In the "Relaciones" Don Diego wrote that--"The horrification of that
moment was a time men might live through but could not write of.--For
myself I know well that only the invisible army of the angels kept the
beams of the roof from crushing us, as well as the poor pagans, who
sat themselves still in a circle with pleasant countenances!"

Ruy Sandoval knew courage of any kind when he saw it, and he met
Tahn-té midway of the council and accepted the rosary of beauty from
his hand.

"My thanks to you, Señor Cacique," he said--"the more so for the
care given this relic. The Fray Luis de Escalona was known of my
mother--also was known the lady from whom this went to his hand.
A goldsmith of note fashioned it, and its history began in a
palace;--strange that its end should be found here in the desert
of the Indies."

"The end has perhaps not yet been found, Señor,"--said the
Indian,--"thanks that you accept it."

Then he spoke in Te-hua to the people as if every personal incident
with the Castilians was forever closed.

"You have listened to fair words from these men--and to sweet words of
brother and brother. I have waited until all of you spoke that I might
know your hearts. You are proud that they come over all the deserts
and seek you for friends. Have you asked them why it is so?"

No one had asked why all the other tribes were left behind, and why
the strangers had come to camp at the Rio Grande del Norte.

"We are good people," stated one man, and the others thought that was
so, and a fair enough reason.

Tahn-té listened, and then spoke to the Castilians.

"You have come far, Señores, and my people have not yet heard the true
reason of the honor you pay them. The priest always goes--and the tale
told is that it is for souls--(Father Luis truly did believe it was
for souls!) But your books tell plainly one thing, and the Christian
men I knew taught by their lives the same thing, and it was this:--For
gold, for precious stones,--or for women--are the real things which
your kings send out companies of men in search of. Women you could
find without crossing the desert. This Te-hua man who was first
captive, and then slave, would have come in gladness to his people if
let go free, yet for five summers and winters did the Castilian priest
hold him servant and at last comes with him to his home. Is this
because of love? His reverence, the padre, is wise in much with
men,--but great love is not his; I cannot see him starving in a cave,
and blessing his tormentors as did Fray Luis. So, Señores, the reason
must be made more clear. Señor Coronado sought gold--and full freedom
was given him to find gold--if he could! Why is your desire to fight
for us against the Apache and the Yutah--and what is the thing you ask
in exchange? Not yet have we had any plain word as from your king."

Don Ruy smiled at his logic. Here was no untutored savage such as they
had hoped to buy with glass beads--or perhaps a mule the worse for the
journey! However it ended, he was getting more of adventure than if he
had built a ship to sail the coasts!

"Games have been won by Truth ere now even though Truth be not
popular," he said to the padre.

"It is not fitting that his Reverence should make reply,"--put in Don
Diego with much anger. "Holy Church is insulted in his person. If this
were but Madrid--"

"To wish for Paradise takes no more of breath,"--suggested Don Ruy,
"and if it is beneath the dignity of any else, perhaps I could
speak--or Chico here."

But the latter silently disclaimed gift of logic or oratory,--in fact
the turn of things was not toward gaity. Don Diego was shocked at
everything said. Gonzalvo and the padre were plainly furious, yet
bound to silence. Only Don Ruy could still smile. To him it was a game
good as a bull fight--and much more novel.

"I shall speak, though it be a task I elsewhere evade," he said, and
looked at the Cacique--a solitary nude bronze body amidst all the gay
trappings of the assembly. "Señor, it is not women we seek--though a
few of us might make room for a pretty one! It is true that the men in
armor would help guard your fields, for they have heard that you are
the Children of the Sun as were certain people of the south. In the
south the sun sent a sign to his children--it was gold set in the
ledges of the rock, or the gravel of the stream. If these people of
the Rio Grande del Norte can show these signs that they be given as
proof to our king--then men in armor of steel will come many as bees
on the blossom and guard your land that your corn and your women be
ever safe from the wild Indians who make devastation."

Tahn-té repeated this to the Te-hua men without comment of his own,
and the dark faces were watched by the Castilians. They could see
no eagerness--only a little wonder--and from some a shrug or
smile,--but--not from any of them anger or fierce looks!

The padre drew a quiet breath of content and leaned back--the game was
at least even. The Navahu had been bad for two years--very bad! The
appeal of Don Ruy might prove the right thing, and the simple thing.
It would take time, for the Indian mind was slow;--the quickness of
the naked sorcerer proved nothing otherwise, for every god-fearing
man could see that he was more than mortal in satanic strength.
Against this one man alone must the battle for the Trinity be fought!

Together did the Te-hua men of council speak much--and to Ka-yemo they
turned more than once and asked of the Tiguex days of the other
Christian men. But between the devil of the padre and his symbols and
the deep sea of the eyes of Tahn-té, not much was to be remembered by
a man, and he could only say that his stay in the south was not
long--that he was only a boy, and without the understanding of things
done and seen.

"I have spoken,"--said Tahn-té when the older men turned to him for
council as to the wisdom of throwing away so powerful a friend as the
men of iron. Some were concerned lest they should turn away and offer
help to their enemies!

In the land of the Yutah the yellow stones were found in the
stream--also in the heart of the Navahu desert. No people used these
stones because they were sacred to the sun, and strong for prayer,
but--it was well to think what would happen if the men of iron were
brothers to the Navahu!

"Never more could we sleep under our own roof--or plant corn in our
own fields," said the man from Te-tzo-ge,--"our daughters would be
wives to the Navahu and mothers of Navahu, and the grass would grow
over the walls we have builded."

They smoked in silence over this thought, for it was a dark
thought--and it could come true!

"We could kill these few, and then sleep sound for a long time with no
trouble thoughts," suggested one, a patriarch from Ui-la-ua.

"That is true," said Tahn-té--"but if we do that way we would be no
better than these men of iron. Their god talks two ways for killing,
and their men live two ways. Our god when he taught our fathers, gave
them but one law for killing, it was this:--'Go not to battle. A time
will come for you to fight, and the stars in the sky will mark that
time. When the star of the ice land moves--then the battle time will
be here! Until then live as brothers and make houses--use the spear
only when the enemy comes to break your walls.' That is the world of
the Great Ruler. To kill these men only holds the matter for your sons
to decide some other year."

"What then is to do?" demanded a man of Naim-be--"they do not break
the walls, but they are beside the gates."

"When the Yutah and the Navahu traders come with skin robes, what is
it you do?" asked Tahn-té.

"We trade them our corn and our melons and we get the robes."

"And,"--added Tahn-té--"the governor of each village gives them room
outside the walls when the night comes, and the chief of war sees that
the gate is closed, and that a guard never goes down from the roof! If
these men are precious to you, make of them brothers, and send prayer
thoughts on their trail, but never forget that they are traders, and
never forget that the watchers must be on the roof so long as they
stay in your land! They come for that which they can carry away, and
once they have it you will be in their hearts only as the grass of
last year on the hills--a forgotten thing over which they ride to new
harvests!"

"You talk as one who has eaten always from the same bowl with the
strangers," spoke one man from Oj-ke--"yet you are young, and some of
these men are not young."

"Because--"--said Tahn-té catching the implied criticism of his youth
and his prominence--"because in the talking paper which their god
made, there is records of all their men since ancient days. They have
never changed. Their gods tell them to go out and kill and take all
that which the enemy will not give,--to take also the maids for
slaves,--that is their book of laws from the Beginning. Since I was a
boy I have studied all these laws. It was my work. By the god a man
has in his heart we can know the man! Their god is a good god for
traders, and a strong god for war. But the watchers of the night must
never leave the gate unguarded when they camp under the walls."

All this Padre Vicente heard, all this and much of it was comprehended
by him. Plainly it was not well to seek converts when the pernicious
tongue of the Cacique could speak in their ears.

"It may be that we abide many days beside you," he said gently and
with manner politic--"also it may be that we visit the wise men of the
other villages, and take to them the good will of our king. The things
said to-day we will think of kindly until that time. And in the end
you will all learn of the true god, and will know that we have come to
be your brothers if you are the children of the true god."

Upon which he held up the cross, and bent his head as in prayer, and
went first up the ladder into the light. He was pale and the sweat
stood on his face. It had been a hard hour.

The others followed in due order, but Don Diego eyed the wizard
Cacique with a curiosity great as was his horror.

"Alone he has studied books without a tutor--sacred books--since his
boyhood!" he said to Don Ruy--"think of that, and of the grief we
had to persuade you to the reading of even the saintly lives!
There is devilish art in this--the angels guard us from further
sorcery--without a tutor! A savage magician to study strange
tongues without a tutor! It is nothing short of infernal!"

But despite all opinion, Don Ruy waited and approached the man of the
white robe and the cruel logic.

"You have been my friend,"--he said--"will you not eat with me and
talk in quiet of these matters?"

"You do not fear then to be marked as the comrade of a sorcerer?"
asked Tahn-té. "You must be a man of strength in your own land,
Excellency, to dare offend your priest by such offer. Is the Holy
Office no longer supreme in Spain?"

"How do you--an Indian--know of the office, of the duties of the
workers there?"

"Two years of my life I lived in the camp of Coronado. To listen was
part of my work. Strange and true tales were told in the long nights.
They are still with me."

"But--you will come?"

Tahn-té looked at him and smiled--but the smile held no gladness.

"My thanks to you, Señor. To you I give the prayer beads--it is good
to give them to you. More than that is not for me to do. My work takes
me from where the feast songs are sung."

Then he wrapped about him the white robe made of deer skins, and it
was as if he had enshrouded himself in silence not to be broken.

With reluctance Don Ruy went up the ladder and left him there. The
sweetness of the outer air was good after the reek of many smokes in
the kiva--and the adventurer stood on the terrace and drew great
breaths and gazed across the tree fringed water, and thought it all a
goodly sight well worth the jealousy of the pagan guardian.

Don Diego had accompanied the padre to their own quarters, but Juan
Gonzalvo was across the court speaking quietly to Yahn Tsyn-deh whose
vanity required some soothing that she had been shut out by Tahn-té
from council and her coveted official tasks.

At the wall of the terrace waited the secretary in some hesitation,
yet striving for boyish courage to speak the things outside the duty
of his office.

"Your pardon, Excellency," he said lowly. "It is not for me to advise,
but I heard some words of the two over there--may I speak?"

"Yes, my lad, and quickly as may be. Their two heads are over close
together for discretion. I fear I shall have the task and expense of
providing a duenna for my beauteous interpreter."

"Little enough of love there is with that dame!" commented the
other,--"it is hate--your Excellency--and for you to say whether their
private hates may not be a breeder of woe for all of us."

"You mean--?"--and Don Ruy motioned with his head towards the kiva.

"Yes:--it is the Cacique. The woman for some cause is bitter with hate
against him.--Juan Gonzalvo is eager to listen--he is restless as
quicksilver already with suspicion of strange things. In the far
south he and his comrades made little odds of riding rough shod over
the natives--here he would do the same at a word from the padre."

"And that word we can ill afford when we are but a handful!" decided
Don Ruy,--"Hum!--for instant annihilation of the proud pagan we can
depend on Gonzalvo, the padre, and Maestro Diego, if it came to a
showing of hands. There must be no showing:--Capitan Gonzalvo!"

"Yes, Excellency."

Gonzalvo crossed quickly to him, while Yahn stood sulkily watching the
three with lazy, half closed eyes.

"You forget none of the pagan Cacique's words--or his defiance of Holy
Church?"

"His defiance of Holy God!--Excellency," answered Gonzalvo hotly,--"and
that is not all--I have heard things--I am putting them together--You
saw his eyes--scarcely Indian eyes! You heard his accursed logic of
heresy--not all Indian--that! Indians may think like that in their
accursed hearts, but they do not find the quick words to argue with
their superiors as does this insolent dog! Listen, Don Ruy, for I have
found the clue--and he belongs to me--that man!"

"To you--Capitan?"

"To me! You have listened to mad things of his birth and of his
clan--the girl of the twilight and the seed bearer--well, what I tell
you seems even more mad, but it will be true if ever we get to the end
of it--that story of the thrice accursed Teo the Greek--you recall
it?--he did without doubt cross this river and saw the Pueblos,--this
sorcerer is of his spawn--he and his medicine mother come back in good
time with their Star God story, and the seeds--the identical seeds of
the padre's story! See you not what it all leads to? He has the blood
of the Greek in him:--in any Christian land he has enough of it to be
broken on the wheel for his damnable heresies!"

"But--since we are not in a Christian land, and doubtless shall never
see him in a Christian land?"

"That narrows it down to man and man, Excellency! His father made a
slave of mine--my earliest oath on the Cross and on the Faith, was
vengeance against the Greek and all his blood! God of Heaven!--to
think that of all the priests of Mexico you chose the one who knew
that story!--and that of all the Indian tribes, we have come to the
one where the half Greek sorcerer rules like a Turk! Don Ruy--you have
led me north to vengeance--my sword and my arm are forever to your
cause."

"Many thanks to you, Capitan, but in this case it is not your sword I
shall command--except to remain in its scabbard!--but your speech I
must silence while we give this matter of the Cacique a season of
prayer and due consideration."

"Excellency--I do not understand--"

"You understand at least all that a soldier need, Capitan," said Don
Ruy with smiling ease. "Your commission comes from me,--and I did not
bestow it for the furtherance of private quarrels. Until I give the
word, your speech must not again mention the thing you suspect--"

"But--the padre--"

"Least of all must the padre or Señor Brancedori hear even a whisper
of it! Neither private vengeance, nor religious war must be pursued
while the company is on our present quest."

"You would have me break my oath on the cross--save a heretic alive
who belongs in the deepest pit?--Excellency!"

Gonzalvo's voice had much of pleading. He felt himself a man cheated
of his righteous dues.

"Your holy vengeance will keep until our quest is over--and the more
time to prepare your soul," suggested Don Ruy. "Then--if the gold is
found, and all goes well, you two can have open fight before we take
the road to the south. But until that lucky hour, the first and the
last word for you is--silence!"

Gonzalvo stood, staring in baffled rage. It was to the padre he should
have gone first. He had played the wrong card in the game. Was Don Ruy
bewitched as well as his horse?

"At least I shall have a double debt to pay when my time does come,
Excellency"--he said at last. "His pagan discourse warrants him a
Christian knife, and will insure him a corner of hell when I send him
there!"

At a respectful distance the secretary had seated himself, and rested
with brow on fists.

"How now?"--asked Don Ruy. "You seem little heartened by all this
brave talk of righteousness. Think you the monk's life of cloister and
garden looks fair after all?"

"In truth, Señor, if you have the desire to despatch a lackey to your
lady love across the sands, you may choose me if you like!" agreed the
lad. "I have neither heart nor stomach for this contest of souls or no
souls--the pagan blood for my far away grandmother unfits me for
judgement--this heretic of the white robe is fighting the same fight
of my own people--but he fights it like one inspired by the nahual of
a god. Yet--there is only one finish to it! Bulls-hide shields and
arrows stand not long before steel coats and leaden bullets--I would
be elsewhere when the finish comes, Señor."

"The nahual of a god!" repeated Don Ruy, "now what may that mean in
Christian speech?"

"In Christian speech it does not exist--the church has spilled much
blood that it be washed from the pagan mind," said the lad. "But the
nahual is the guardian angel or guardian devil born to earth with each
man--it is like his shadow, yet unseen, it is part of the Great
Mystery from the other side of the dawn and the other side of the
dark. Once open worship was given to the Nahual, and their priests
were strong. Now if the worshippers do meet, it is in secret. This man
has truly drawn to himself a strong nahual and it should give him much
of the magic which the good padre tells us is accursed."

"For a boy you have a fund of strange lore!" commented Don Ruy,--"too
much for good company in the night time,--small wonder that you range
abroad and dream under the stars! The monks never taught you all of
it. Come:--tell me truly of your escapade--what sent you to our
ranks?"

The lad flushed, then shrugged his shoulders and regarded the toes of
his sandals.

"Excellency--if you require that I tell you--I am most certain never
to get the commission to carry message to lady of yours!" he said so
whimsically that the excellency laughed and promised him constant
employment on such embassies if fortune found him ladies.

"Then:--I must speak myself a failure! A damsel did trust me with some
such message to her cavalier and seeing that the love was all on one
side--and that side her own--I dared not go back and face her--not
even her guerdon could I by any means steal from him; brief:--I saved
my neck by following you and leaving the land!"

"Was she so high in power?"

"Yes:--and--no, Excellency. She was, with all her estates, so close
under the guard of the Viceroy that she could win all favors
but--freedom!"

"How?" queried Don Ruy with wrinkled brow--his thoughts travelling
fast to the converse of the gentle maniac as told him by the padre.
"Has the Viceroy then a collection of pretty birds in cages--and must
they sing only for the viceregal ear?"

"I cannot tell as to other cages, Señor, but this one was meant to
sing only for a viceregal relative:--if she proved heretic, then the
convent waited and her lands were otherwise disposed of."

"Hum! Then even in the provinces such rulings work as swiftly as at
court! Well, what outer charge was there?"

"The strongest possible charge, Excellency. The mother of the girl had
Indian blood, and, despite the wealth and Christian teaching of her
husband--returned to Indian worship at his death. For that she was
called mad, and ended her days in a Convent. The daughter of course
will also be mad if she refuses to be guided by the good friends who
select her husband--that husband was her only gate to freedom, knowing
which the maid did certainly do some mad things:--to strangers she
tried to speak--from her duenna she slipped out in the night time--oh
there is no doubt that all the evidence will show plainly in court
that she is more mad than her mother--"

"Chico!"--The hand of Don Ruy rested on the shoulder of the lad--"You
are telling me the hidden part of a story to which I have listened
from other lips--and your eyes have tears in them!--Tush!--be not
ashamed lad. You yourself have heart for the lady?"

"Not in a way unseemly," retorted the lad, dashing the water from his
eyes,--"to think of the mother dead like that behind the bars is not a
cheery thing! As for the daughter--I dare call myself her foster
brother, and I dare pray for her that she finds the chance to die in
the open!"

"What a little world it is!" said the adventurer. "Do you mean that
you did come with a message--and that your heart failed you as to
consequences? You failed the lady--my unknown lady of the tryst?"

"Excellency:--the maid thought you a person of adventure, and she
dared hope to buy your services--then--you two know best what you
whispered in the dark!--but she no longer thought of purchase money in
exchange for helping her escape to a ship;--God knows what she thought
of, for you must not forget that she is called mad, Señor! But with
all her madness she would not have approached your highness with the
same freedom had she dreamed that your rank was high as the camp
whispered to me the day I came for speech with you! That rank told me
a story I could not go back and tell her, Señor--so--I used my forged
letter written on viceregal paper, and secured service with a man
instead of a maid."

"And left her waiting?"

"I could do her no help by going back--she is no worse off than if I
had not come."

"She sent you for the silken broidery?"

"She said if you could come to her service, the scarf or a certain
page of a certain book would serve as a sign:--letters are difficult
things--boys who carry them are tripped up at times and learn the
might of a lash. To send a jewelled bauble and ask for the silken
scarf was a less harmful thing for the messengers."

"You imp of an Indian devil! a souvenir was sent me--and a message--and
I am hearing no word of it until now in this pagan land!"

"Excellency:--the message is of little moment now--it was only a
matter of a tryst--and you were too far on the journey! But the ardor
of the Capitan Gonzalvo may bring us all strange moments,--and it may
be some graves! If mine should be among them, and you should live to
go back, you can take from my neck the bauble trusted to me by the
lady. It is one of the records of her madness. But you will not quite
laugh at it, Señor--and you will forgive me that I could not give it
to you as she had dreamed in her madness that I could easily do."

"Mad? By our Lady!--there has been no madness from first to last but
my own when I was tricked away from her by lies pious and politic!
Oh--oh!--our padre was in it deep, and I have served their purpose!
And you--you girl-faced little devil--what share is yours in all this?
Whose tool have you been from first to last?"

"Whose?"--the lad had regained his careless mien--"surely not that of
Dame Venus or her son, Master Cupid! It is well for me to find employ
in the wilderness--never again dare I seek service with lord or
lady!"

"Your lady lost her wits ere she made you ambassador on a love
quest!"

"Without doubt you speak truth, Excellency. I might add--(had I not
been whipped into politeness to my superiors!) that the deluded maid
had lost her wits ere she fell into love with a face seen from a
balcony--or with a voice whispering to her in the darkness of a rose
bower!"

Don Ruy looked at him without much of sweetness in the glance.

"I've two minds regarding you," he stated,--"and one of them is to
thresh you for faithlessness and a forward tongue!"

"Then I beg that you choose the other mind!" said the secretary, on
his feet, alert, and ready to make a run if need be. "Don Diego could
not well spare me in the midst of his struggles with the heathen, and
his desire that honest things be set down in the 'Relaciones.'
Moreover--Excellency, it would take many words to convince that pious
gentleman that I had been faithless in aught--to you!"

There was a pitiful little quaver in the last words by which Don Ruy
was made ashamed of his threat, for despite his anger that the lad was
over close in the confidence of the unknown Mexican maid, yet the
stripling had been a source of joy as they rode side by side over the
desert reaches, and he knew that only for him had those Indian
thoughts been given that were heresy most rank for any other ears. In
ways numberless had the devotion of the lad been manifest.

[Illustration: THE PAGE _Page 198_]

But Don Ruy had little heart to discuss the matter, he was still
flushed with the annoying thought that the young cub had been let know
every whisper of the moment under the roses. He walked away without
more words.

And Yahn who was watching the two, was very glad in her heart. She
could plainly see that those two who had laughed at her sometimes,
were having a quarrel that was a trouble to each, for Don Ruy walked
away with an angry frown, and the page stood by the terrace steps a
long time, and looked across the river with no smile on his face.




CHAPTER XIV

THE COURIER AND THE MAID


Ere the morning star saw its face in the sacred lake of the Na-im-be
mountains, Tahn-té, the Po-Ahtun-ho, had done a thing not of
custom:--he was leaving the governor to hear the prayers of Povi-whah,
while he, for reasons politic, made the run to the most northern of
pueblos.

Much in the council of the strangers had shown him their power over
the old men whose minds were divided between dread of the savage
tribes, and wonder if the youth of Tahn-té gave him warrant for all
the knowledge expressed by him.

The governor of Te-gat-ha had sent no men to the council of Povi-whah.
From that fact had Tahn-té reasoned that Te-gat-ha meant to show no
favors to the white strangers. Te-gat-ha was of itself, very strong,
else it could not have held its walls against the Yutah and the wild
tribes of the north. Therefore would Te-gat-ha be a good comrade.

Twenty leagues it lay across the river and the mountain, but Tahn-té
had ere the dawn taken the bath in the living stream of the river:--it
runs and never tires, and its virtues are borrowed by the bather who
lets it have its way with him while he whispers the prayers of the
stars of the morning.

He knew that this was the moon and the time of the moon, when the
summer ceremonies were made in Te-gat-ha to the God of Creations, and
because of a wonderful visitor in the sky, he knew that special
ceremonies would be held. The Ancient Star was near the zenith--never
must it depart without a life to strengthen it on the downward trail!

The Po-Ahtun-ho in his ceremonial person never leaves the region of
the sanctuary, any more than the pope across the seas dare go
adventuring. It was as Tahn-té the courier, that he carried the
message of the Po-Athun to the man of Te-gat-ha that no shadow of
doubt be left in his mind as to where they stood in the Pueblo
brotherhood.

The mountain forest of Te-gat-ha, and the rose thickets close to the
brown walls make it a place of beauty. Through the open court between
the century old buildings, runs the mountain stream with its message
from the heights to the hidden river cutting deep down in the green
plain to the west.

The valley of Povi-whah was beautiful in itself as a garden is good to
look on when the spirits of the Growing Things have worked well with
the man who covers the seed, but Te-gat-ha brought thoughts of a
different beauty--even as did the memory of Wálpi in Tusayan.

Wálpi breathed the spirit of a tragic life, the last fortress of a
mysterious people. Te-gat-ha sat enthroned facing the setting sun.
Ancient, beautiful and insolent--with the insolence which refused to
grow old though she had been mistress of many centuries.

Tahn-té the dreamer,--the student of mystic things, was subtly
conscious of that almost personal--almost feminine appeal of
Te-gat-ha. Strong in its beauty as in its battles--it yet retained a
sensuous atmosphere that was as the mingling of rose bloom and wild
plum blossom, of crushed mint grown in the shadows of the moist
places, and clinging feathery clematis, binding by its tendrils green
thickets into walls impregnable.

He could hear the beating of the tombé while yet out of sight of the
sentinel on the western wall of the terrace. Medicine was being made,
or dances were being danced.

While he ran through the forest his thoughts had drifted again and
again to the vision of the bluebird maid. Was she the earth form of
the God-Maid on the south mesa where the great star hung low? Was she
the Goddess Estsan-atlehi who wore for him the color of the blue earth
jewel sacred to her?--was she the shadow of the dream-maid of all his
boy days--the K[=a]-ye-povi who had gone from earth to the Light
beyond the light? All the wild places spoke of her, each stream he
crossed made him see the young limbs pictured in the pool--each bird
song made him remember the symbol sent to him by the vision--the world
was a sweeter place because of the vision.

It came even against his will between himself and the priest of the
robe who had called him "Sorcerer"--and who was the real general he
would have to do battle with in the near days. The others he scarcely
thought of, but that one of the wise tactful speech he must think of
much.

Then while he told himself that the thought of the men of iron must
never be forgotten for even the sweetest of forest dreams;--in that
same moment the rustling of the wind in the piñons made him thrill
with the closeness of the remembered vision as no sight of living maid
had ever made him thrill:--might it be magic from Those Above to try
his strength? Might the memory of the maid and the pool, be akin to
that temptation of the babe and the arms of the mother outlined on the
shadows of the ancient graven stone?

That had plainly been false enchantment--and he had danced it away in
the prayer dance to the Ancient Father. It had not returned even in
his dreams. But the maid of the bluebird had not ever gone quite away.
So close she seemed at times that if he turned his head quickly in the
places of shadows he felt that he might see her again before the
Spirit People hid the body of beauty.

And then--as he ran, and turned where the trail circled a rugged
column of stone at the edge of the piñon woods,--there a shadow
flitted as a bird past the great gray barrier. He turned from the
trail almost without volition of his own, and followed the flitting
shadow, and--the maid of the bluebird wing was again before him!

Not merging into the shadows as before. Against the grey wall of rock
she stood as a wild hunted thing at bay--breathless, panting--but with
head thrown back to look death in the face.

But death was not what she saw in his eyes--only a wonder great as her
own--and with the wonder fear,--and something else than fear.

Plainly she had been bound by thongs of rawhide, for one yet hung from
her wrist. Much of her body was bare, her greatest garment was a
deerskin robe held in her hand as she ran.

Because of this, could he see that her body and her arms were
decorated with ceremonial symbols in the sacred colors, and the
painting of them was not complete. It was evident she had been chosen
for the forest dance of the maidens who were young. It was plain also
that she had resisted, and had in some way broken from the people.

At the something other than fear in his eyes, she gained courage, and
at the bluebird's wing in his head band, she stared and touched the
one in her own braids, and then touched her own breast.

"Doli (Blue Bird)--me!" she said appealingly. "Navahu"--then she held
her hand out as though measuring the height of a child.--"Te-hua--me!"

"Te-hua!"--he caught her hand and knew that she was not a vision,
though he had first known of her in a vision. She was a living maid,
and twice on wilderness trails had she come to him!

"Te-hua--you?" he half whispered, but in Te-hua words she could not
answer him--only begged rapidly in Navahu for protection--and motioned
with fear towards the villages where the tombé was sounding.

To give help to an escaped captive of Te-gat-ha while on the trail to
ask friendship of Te-gat-ha, was an act not known in Indian
ethics--but as when he had been wakened by her in the cañon of the
high walls--so it was now--the outer world drifted far, and the
eyes of the girl--pleading--were the only real things. In his hours
on the trail through the forest he had thought the ever-present
picture of her in his heart might be strange new magic for his
undoing, but to hear her tremulous girl voice:--and to see the broken
thong, and the symbols of the most primitive of tribal dances,
drove into forgetfulness the thought of all magic that was false
magic. The gods had sent the vision of her in the dawn of the
sacred mountain, that he--Tahn-té--might know her for his own when she
crossed his trail for help. The Navahu goddess of the earth jewel
had surely sent her--else why the pair of blue wings between them?
The symbolism of it was conclusive to the Indian mind, and he
reached out his hand.

"Come!" he said gently. "Little sister,--come you with me!"

                  *       *       *       *       *

When the sentinel on the wall of Te-gat-ha sighted a strange runner
who ran to them, and ran with swiftness, the word went to the
governor, and he sent his man of the right hand to the gate of the
wall.

In times of feasts these two had met before the days when the prayers
were listened to by Tahn-té, and the greeting given to the visitors
was a greeting to a friend.

As they crossed the court, Tahn-té could see that confusion and alarm
was there. A woman who had been chidden was weeping, and the governor
of war had his scouts at the place in the wall where the water ran
under the bridge of the great logs--that was the only place where one
could creep through without passing the gates, where the sentinel
could always see.

"She is a witch!" wailed the woman who was in tears--"The painting was
being done on her,--she would have been complete--and then it was the
pot boiled over in the ashes:--they blinded my eyes, and the child was
in the ashes also, and the body of him was burned. Could I see the
witch when my eyes were blind? Could I hear the witch when my child
screamed? Could I know she would cover herself with a deer skin and go
into the ground, or into the clouds? On no trail of earth can you find
her. She is a witch who brings bad luck to my house!"

But the men, heeding not her words, went over the ground in ways
towards the mountains, and looked with keenness on all the tracks of
women's feet.

Beyond the words of the women, Tahn-té heard nothing more of the
person who was painted almost to completeness ere she went into the
clouds, or into the ground. It was not etiquette to make questions.
The wise old governor gave greeting to the visitor as if no thing had
happened more unusual than the rising or setting of the sun.

Tahn-té had been many times to Te-gat-ha when the Sun races were made
in the Moon of Yellow leaves. At that time the Sun Father grows weak,
and the races are made that he may look down and see the earth
children as they show strength, and the prayer of the race is that the
Sun Father goes not far away, but seeks strength also, and grows warm
again after a season.

Thus Tahn-té knew kindly the people, and the chief men were called to
hear why a runner had been sent at this time to the brothers of the
North.

The head men wrapped themselves in the robes of ceremony, the younger
priests painted their bodies with the white, and into the kiva of
council they descended with their visitor of high office.

On the shrine there, Tahn-té placed a fragment of the sun symbol taken
from the pouch at his girdle. Before a white statue of the weeping god
he placed it, and the Keeper of the Sacred Fire there, breathed on his
hand, and threw fragrant dried herbs of magic on the live coals, that
all evil and all discord be driven out by the fumes, and when the
smoke drifted upwards and out by the way of the sky, the talk was
made.

With briefness Tahn-té stated all heard in the council of Povi-whah
concerning the wishes of the strangers from the South.

[Illustration: INTO THE KIVA OF COUNCIL THEY DESCENDED _Page 206_]

The men smoked the sacred smoke of council and listened, and when all
was said, they nodded to each other.

"That which you say is that which the tribes have always talked about
when the wild people came for war. In old days of our fathers, we
people of the houses and the fields did make compact with each other
as brothers. But always it has been broken, often it had to be broken.
We are far apart. When the Yutah comes from the north, and the Pawnee
from the east--and the Apache and the Navahu from every place, the men
of each village must look to their own women. He cannot go to his
brother to learn if he also is having war."

"That is true," said Tahn-té. "But the wild people fight and go away
again. If these strangers find the symbol of the sun in our land, they
will never go away--more will come--and then more always! I have seen
the talking leaves of their people. If they get room for their feet,
they then ask the field; if the way of the door is opened to them,
they then take the house. They and their animals will ride us down as
the buffalo tramp under foot the grass on the wide lands."

"That other year the white strangers came. They staid not long. This
time not so many come--next time not any ever come--maybe so!"

"Maybe so!" echoed Tahn-té, but shook his head in sadness. Like the
men of his own village, these men had the hopefulness of children that
all would be made well.

"If their god is so strong a god--and they come with good gifts, is it
not well to make treaty and have them as brothers?" asked the old
governor. "With the thunder and the lightning given to them instead
of arrows, they could do good warrior work for those who were precious
to them."

"That is so," agreed Tahn-té--"but the men of dark skins will never be
precious to the white men of the beards--except they make slaves who
obey,--who carry the water, and bring wood for the fire."

"Men carry the water?"

"They are not men when they become slaves--they are not people any
more!"

"We did not hear that," said the governor. "Do these men tell it that
way?"

"No--not in that way. But talking leaves of their god tells them that
dark men of other gods than theirs must be ever as slaves to the white
men of iron and all of their kind. It has been like that always. The
talking leaves tell them how to make slaves--and how to make war on
all people who refuse to say that their god must be the only god."

"And that white god sends talking leaves of a spirit tree?"

"It is so," said Tahn-té:--"Many leaves! The spirit of that tree was
once a strong spirit, but the white people caught it with magic and
shut it in a book, and the spirit grows weak in the book--the heart of
the Most Mysterious cannot be shut in a thing like that. They have
magic, but the heart does not sing to that magic--only the eyes see
it."

"Yet these strangers are wise," ventured one of the council, "such
leaves might be good to instruct quickly the youth of the clans."

"It is so," agreed Tahn-té again. "But when the gods are caught in the
leaves of a book, is when they no longer speak in silence to the
hearts of men. On a day when we walk no more on the Earth Trail, the
names of our gods may also be written on the leaves of a spirit tree
that is dead. Think of this and warn your sons to think of this! The
youths of Povi-whah and of Kah-po hearken with joy to the trumpets of
the men of iron, but the music for the desert gods is the music of the
flute--let it not be silenced by trumpets of brass made by white men
who conquer!"

Some of the men of the council looked at each other, and wondered in
their hearts if the youth of Tahn-té did not make him dream false
things and think them true. It was scarcely to be believed that one
people would fight because another people found the Great Mystery--and
prayed to It for strength to live well--and to live long--but called
It by another Prayer Name!

They knew that in things of sacred magic Tahn-té was more wise than
any other;--other youth were trained only in their own societies--but
the son of the Woman of the Twilight reached out for the Thought back
of the outer thought in all orders, and in different tribes.

Yet--they doubted him now and for the first time! They did not think
that Tahn-té spoke with a crooked tongue, but some one had lied to him
in the days when he crossed the land with the man Coronado;--or maybe
the talking leaves had lied on some dark night of magic!

But however that might be, the Great Mystery had never sent the word
to kill a people because of their prayers. The men of the council knew
that could not be. But they were respectful to the young Po-Ahtun-ho,
and they did not say so. That he had put aside his dignity of office,
and come himself to Tegat-ha for council, was a great honor for
Te-gat-ha.

And they smoked in silence, and did not say the thing they thought.

But Tahn-té the Ruler, read their hearts in their silence, and for the
first time his own heart grew sick. In Povi-whah there was the
jealousy of the war chief--and of the governor as well, and that, he
thought, made them blind to much. But these men had only honor in
their hearts for him and no jealousy. Yet to make them see motives of
the strangers, as he saw them, was not possible; and to tell them that
the men of iron gave worship to a jealous god was to brand himself for
always as foolish in their eyes! They had thought him wise--but not
again could they think him wise as to the foreign men, or the reading
of their books!

The early stars were alight in the sky when the men came up from the
council. In the house of the governor the evening meal was long
ready.

From the place of the dance in the forest, men and maids were
coming:--under the branches of the great trees they were coming, but
among them was not the maid of the thong and the unfinished paintings.
Tahn-té, seeing that it was so, ate with his hosts the rolls of
paper-like bread, and the roasted meat of the deer.

It was a silent meal, for it was his first day of failure. All other
things he had won--but to win his brothers to brotherhood against the
strongest enemy they or their fathers had ever met--was a thing beyond
his strength.

They had chosen to be blind, and for the blind, no one can see!

Standing on the terrace, the governor spoke alone to Tahn-té of the
thing which the men of iron sought--it was the same thing Alvarado
had asked of when he had come north from Coronado's camp. It was
strange that the sign of the Sun Father was a thing the white men
sought ever to carry from the land. It must be strong medicine and
very precious to them!

It was not possible for Tahn-té to make clear that the virtue of the
yellow metal was not a sacred thing--only a thing of barter as shell
beads or robes might be.

"Is it as they say,"--said his host after a smoke of silence--"is it
as they say that the Order of the Snake is again made strong by you in
Povi-whah?"

"It is true," said Tahn-té. "The help I have is not much. The Great
Snake they all revere for the sacred reasons, but only the very old
men know that with the Ancients the medicine of the wild brother
snakes was strong medicine for the hearts of men. Maybe I can live
long enough to teach the young men that the strong medicine is yet
ours, and that the wild brother snake can always help us prove to the
gods that it is ours."

"It is true that it is ours," assented the old man,--"and it is good
when the visions come to show us how it is ours,"--then after a
little, he added:--"For the sleep you will stay with my clan?" but
Tahn-té, standing on the terrace, shook his head and pointed to the
south.

"Thanks that you wish me," he said,--"but the work is there and the
watching is there. When the smoke is over--I ask for your prayers
and--I go!"

Steadily he ran on the trail past the thickets of the rose, and the
great rock by the trail--steadily under the stars a long way. Then out
of the many small night sounds of the wilderness he heard behind him
the long call of a night bird in flight. Only a little ways did he go
when again that little song of three descending notes came to him. It
was very close this time, but he neither halted nor made more haste.
For all the heed given it he might not have hearkened to it more than
to the cricket in the grass.

Yet it spoke clearly to his ears. He knew that sentinels had been
placed along his trail, and as he ran steadily, and alone, past each,
he knew that the watchers were keen of eye and ear, and that the last
two sent each other the signal "All is well,"--also he knew that the
signal would be echoed back along the trail until each watcher would
know that their visitor was on the trail alone, and all was well, and
each could go back to Te-gat-ha and report to the war chief, and find
sleep.

The watchfulness told him also that the maid they sought was one of
importance. The visitor in the sky, called by his people the Ancient
Star,--and called by Fray Luis the planet Venus, gave special meaning
to a captive from the tribe of an enemy. It saved some clan from
devoting a son or a daughter to sacrifice.

He did not halt at once even after the last call was sent back into
the night, and he was far on the south trail ere he turned and more
slowly retraced his steps. No lingering watcher must be overtaken by
him on the trail.

So it was that Arcturus (the watcher of the night when the sun is
away) was high overhead when he came again to the place of the great
rock where as youths, he and his comrades climbed on each others'
shoulders--and even then only the most agile and daring had scaled the
smooth wall, and lay hidden there in a water worn depression. Many
scouts might pass it without thought that a maid could be hidden
there!

But the mere whisper of a whistle like the bluebird call brought her
head over the edge, and their eyes met in the starlight.

Half the day, and half the night, had she lain there waiting for his
call, hearing more than once the pad of the feet, or the panting
breath of scouts:--she had even heard words of the sentinels sent from
Te-gat-ha ahead of Tahn-té--eager as wolves they were in search of the
maid--for it was evil medicine most potent to lose a captive after the
symbols of ceremony had been drawn on the body!

But all her fear of them gave her no fear of Tahn-té. His first look
into her eyes had been the look which said strange things, and sweet
things--it was as if he had spoken thanks that he had found her on the
trail.

And when he held up his arm to her in the night, she wrapped closely
the deerskin robe about her, and slipped downward into his embrace.

The wall was so high he had himself gone ahead and dragged her up by
help of the skin robe. And, strong though he was, the weight of her as
she slipped downward against him staggered him, and his arms went
tightly around her slender girl's body to save her, and to save
himself.

And in that moment one of the magical things came to pass in the
starlight, her young breasts were bare and held close to his own body.
Her heart beats were felt by him as she lay limp for a space in his
arms, and Tahn-té knew that for all other things in his life words
could be found--but for the thrill of the touch of her body there were
no words. It was as if a star had slipped out of the sky and given
its glow and radiance to his life--the music of existence had touched
him--and the magic of it held him dumb and still.

And he knew that the magic of the maid was born of the Great Mystery,
and that a new life for him was born as each heard the heart beats of
the other.

It was as truly a new marking for the Life Trail as had been the
prayer made as a boy at the mesa shrine to answer the young moon
message of the God of the Wilderness.

The maid stirred in his clasp and drew herself shyly away from him. At
her first little movement, his arms grew tense about her, then they
fell away, and he watched her, while with head averted from him, she
arranged as well as might be her scant garb. There could be no words
between them, but his touch was tender as he took her hand and led her
out to the trail. He felt that she must know all he felt--and all the
dreams into which the white shadow of her had entered--the sacred
fourth shadow cast not by the body, but by the spirit, and linking
itself with kindred spirit even while the human body breathed and
moved and cast the black first shadow that all people may see.

The black first shadow all can see as a man moves or as he stands
still, and the two gray shadows many can see after a man is on the
death trail or when the breath has gone away. These remain with a man
because they are of his body, but the white shadow is the shadow of
the breath of the Great Mystery--it is as the perfume of the flower,
the song of the bird, and the love of the man.

Fear lent the girl fleetness as she ran beside him in the night, and
he marvelled at her.--No pueblo girl could have kept that pace. It was
plain that she had lived with the rovers of the desert. All the long
hours had she been without food or drink, yet she ran like a boy, and
with the swiftness of a boy.

When the dawn broke, and the morning star showed each the face of the
other, they had reached the trail by the river. From the west came
black wind-swept clouds to meet the sun, and in the south the angered
God of Thunder spoke. Tahn-té looked at the girl whose eyes showed the
weariness of the long strain--his thoughts dwelt on the woes she must
have lived through ere he found her:--plainly she could not run unfed
to the hills of his people, and plainly since the storm was meeting
them, the wise time to halt must be ere it swept the valley.

From the well known trail he had departed before the dawn, and the way
they went was a hard way across the heights where earth's heart-fires
had split the land and left great jagged monuments of stone;--and red
ash as if even now scarcely free from the heat of flame.

Into one of the great crevices,--wide, and roofed by rock--he led the
strange maid. Water came from a break in the great grey wall, and sand
had drifted there on the wind, and the girl with a moan that was of
weariness sank down there where the sand was. Tahn-té felt himself
strangely hurt by that moan and wondered that it should be so.

She was only a maid after all, and the little woeful cry made him
think of a hurt child he would have lifted in his arms and carried
home to its mother. But the maid of the bluebird wing was far from
mother and from her people;--no words had they exchanged in the long
trail of the night, he knew not anything but that she spoke Navahu,
and would have him think she wished to be Te-hua.

When she lay so very still that he could not see even the sign of life
in her face, he went close and touched her--and then he saw that the
spirit of her had truly gone on the trail of the twilight--she was no
longer alive as other people are alive.

He lifted her to where the water ran, and with prayer let the cool
drops of the living spring touch her face until the life came back,
and her eyes opened wide with terror at sight of him bending above
her, but he whispered as to a child--"Na-vin (my own)" and then
"K[=a]-ye-povi"--which was to call her the Blossom of the Spirit, the
name had been always with him in the Love-maiden Dream;--and this maid
was the dream come true!

He drew her back from that strange border land of life where the strong
gods of shadow wait;--and then the whisper of the blossom name took the
fear from her dazed eyes--she clung to his hands and in a sort of
breathless joy repeated the name "K[=a]-ye-povi--K[=a]-ye-povi!"--Me!
"K[=a]-ye-povi!"

"You!--Doli--Navahu!"

She nodded assent. "Yes--it is so--now," she said--"but once when
little,"--she made the sign for the height of a child--"Te-hua, not
Navahu--then K[=a]-ye-povi!"

Thus it was Tahn-té found K[=a]-ye-povi after the many years, and knew
that the Great Mystery had set his foot on the trail to Te-gat-ha that
he, and not another, should find her!

From traders, and from an occasional Navahu prisoner, Tahn-té had
learned Navahu words, and Navahu god thoughts, and now he strove with
eagerness to speak their language, even though haltingly, and question
of her coming to him--to him!

To a new master she had been sold by the old people who had owned her
long, and many of the Navahu had gone north for deer--and perhaps for
buffalo, and she had been taken with them. So far had they travelled
that Tse-c[=o]me-u-piñ, the sacred, had been pointed out to her--and
as a bird will seek its own place of nesting, had she sought the
Te-hua land by fleeing to the sacred mountain. In the night time she
had fled from her new master,--from a tall pine where she had climbed,
had she seen them search the trail for her. In vain they had searched,
and alone she had wandered many days. Almost had she reached the
Te-hua towns of the river when some traders of Te-gat-ha had found her
in the forest. To their own town they had taken her and had traded her
for shell beads and for corn--the rest Tahn-té knew!

He strung his bow while he listened,--and while the thunder shook the
earth he slipped through the crevices of the rock and lay hidden at
the edge of a mountain morass where the reeds grew tall, and wild
things fed--ahead of the storm small animals might cross the open
there to reach the shelter of the rock walls--and K[=a]-ye-povi must
not go unfed.

A rabbit he killed and covered each track of his feet from the place
where he picked it up. When he took it to her it had been cleaned and
washed in a little cascade below the shelter he had found for her.
With him he took also dry twigs and dry piñon boughs, that the fire
made might not carry the odor of green wood.

The sheets of rain were flowing steadily towards them from the west,
the earth trembled as the God of Thunder spoke, and the lances of fire
were flung from the far sky and splintered on the rocks of the
mountain.

The maid lay, wide eyed and still, where he had left her. That she
feared was plain to be seen, and at his coming tears of gladness shone
in her eyes.

To see that light in her face as he came back to her brought to him a
joy that was new and sweet. He did not speak to her. He made the fire
in silence, but at every crash of the storm he smiled at her, and made
prayers, and threw sacred white pollen to the four ways, and the
feeling that he was as guardian to the maid whose very name had been a
part of his boy dreams, was a sweet thought.

It was a wonderful thing that out of the dreams she had grown real,
and had covered the trails until she had reached him! It was sweet
that his hand had touched her and told him that the maid was a real
maid of pulsing heart and tremulous breath.

But with all the sweetness of it, there was a strange thought
fluttering over his mind like a moth or a butterfly. It did not find
lodgment there, but it did not go quite away, and ere he offered to
her the meat roasted in the red coals of the piñon wood, he scattered
prayer pollen between them as on a shrine.

The line of the white between them was as the threshold of a door over
which a man may not step. No man crosses threshold of another if the
wife of that man is alone there,--and no brother goes into the house
where his sister is without other companion. This was the law from the
time of the ancient days, and belongs to many tribes.

To the Navahu it did not belong, and the maid knew only that the white
pollen meant prayer, and that she was circled by sacred things, and by
thought so sweet that her eyes rested on the sands when he gazed at
her.

So sweet did the thought grow that they no longer tried to speak as
at first, and compare words Navahu, and words Te-hua;--her own
forgotten tongue.

To whisper "K[=a]-ye-povi" was sweet, but to think "Doli" was
sweeter--for it had been the vision of the goddess of the blue he had
first seen in the pool of the hills;--and to him had come her symbol
dancing on the ripples. He wore it in the banda about his head;--and
he knew now that the image of her would never grow faint in his heart.
Out of the hand of the Great Mystery had she come to him that the last
and best gift of life should be known, and that the prayers to the
gods be double strong because of that knowing.

Without daring to look at her he sat in silence and thought these
things, and he felt that she must know what the thoughts were. The war
of the elements was as a background for strange harmonies, and the low
roaring clouds of darkness were but a blanket of mist under which the
fire glow of two hearts be felt to shine near and clear, and send to
each its signal.

Then--like a monster let loose, there were broken all bonds of the
tornado on the river hills. A blackness as of night covered the earth
with wide spread wings. With the voice of thunder it came;--and with
the strength of a god it came.

Earth and stone were hurled on the wind as if a rain of arrows or
spears had been hurled by some spirit of annihilation.

Even breath had to be fought for there,--and the maid in terror
reached out her hands to the man across the sacred barrier and moaned
pitifully, and in the darkness the man drew her close until her head
rested on his breast, and his own bent head, and his body, sheltered
her.




CHAPTER XV

THE GIVING OF THE SUN SYMBOL


Two nights had passed over the world, and the day star was shining
over the mountains of the east when the people of Povi-whah saw again
Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho.

It was the sentinel on the terrace who saw him, and he was at the
ancient shrine at the mesa edge, and a flame was there to show that
prayers were being made to greet the god of the new day.

And when he came down from the mesa, and looked at the corn of the
fields torn and beaten low by the great storm, his face showed that he
carried a sad heart, and that he had gone from Te-gat-ha somewhere
into the hills for prayer.

And to his house went the old men, and they listened to that which had
been decided by the council of Te-gat-ha. A man had already arrived
from Te-gat-ha to tell them that same thing, and to tell them that an
evil spirit of the forest who spoke as a Navahu maid, had brought woe
on the valley.

Some said it was the Ancient Star calling on the voice of the wind for
sacrifice, and others said the tornado had come because the maid had
been let go with the sacred symbols of ceremony painted on her body,
and the gods of that ceremony called for her on the wind. But
whichever way was the true way, the maid was linked to spirits of
evil, and the corn of that year would be less than half of a full
year, and the Te-gat-ha men asked that any Te-hua man who found the
evil maid would send a runner to tell of it. Robes and blue beads
would be given for her:--she belonged to the god of the star, or the
god of the mad winds, and on the altar with prayers must she be given
to them, that they be not angry.

Tahn-té listened--and when they said the anger of the sky had come
from the west, as the maid had come, he was silent.

His first day of failure in council had been the day when he shielded
the Dream Maid on the trail.--The woman who had wept in Te-gat-ha had
said she was evil and a witch, and now the men pointed to the killed
corn as the work of her magic!

No word of his could undo these things or wipe them from the Indian
mind. In his own mind he knew that a weakness had come upon him. To
live alone for the gods had been an easy thing to think of in the
other days, but now it was not easy, and his heart trembled like a
snared bird at each plan made by the men for the undoing of the
witchmaid if she should be found.

The runner from Te-gat-ha looked strangely at Tahn-té as he walked
across the court, and to Ka-yemo, he said:

"You men of Povi-whah are good runners always, and your Ruler of the
Spirit Things has left you all behind always in the race. Yet this
time, to come from Te-gat-ha, he stays two sleeps, and follows a trail
no man sees!"

"In the hills he has been for prayers--so the old men say," replied
Ka-zemo. But Yahn, whose ears were ever open, gave stew of rabbit to
the Te-gat-ha runner and asked many things, and learned that the storm
had washed away all tracks of feet, but that the witch maid had
certainly run to the south--every other way was under the eyes of the
sentinel on the wall. By a little stream to the south had her tracks
been seen but not in any other place.

"Tahn-té crossed over the trail," said Yahn and laughed. "The priest
of the men of iron say that Tahn-té is a sorcerer,--who knows that he
did not bury owl-feathers or raven-feathers on the way to hide her
trail? If the witch maid was a maid of beauty, is he not already a
man?"

The man laughed with her, but he had heard of the dance of Tahn-té to
the ancient stone god of the hills! The man who danced there was not
the man for the cat scratches of Yahn the Apache, and though he
laughed with her because she was pretty and a woman, he was not blind
to her malice, and the meaning of her words went by him on the wind.

But the thought once planted in the mind of Yahn did not die. The face
of Tahn-té held a trouble new and strange. He walked apart, and the
old men said he made many prayers that the Great Mystery send a sign
for the going of the white strangers.

In her heart Yahn thought as Tahn-té thought. The eyes of the man of
the priest gown went like arrows through her at times--he looked like
a man who knew all things. To Ka-yemo he talked until she was wild
with desire to know the things said between them. It angered her that
Ka-yemo was flattered by such attention. Padre Vicente she hated for
his keen eyes and his plain speech of her. Don Ruy and the boyish
secretary had too many moments of laughter when her name was spoken of
to Juan Gonzalvo--as it often was! Their gifts she took with both
hands, and did the talking for them as agreed, but she sulked at times
even under their compliments, and Don Diego instructed Säh-pah to
strive that the unruly beauty be brought within the Christian fold.

The success was not great, for Säh-pah was brave in a new gift of
silver spurs--worn on rawhide about her neck, for it was the time of
the Summer dance when the women choose companions, and love is very
free. If the man prefers not to share the love of the dame who makes
choice of him--he makes her a gift--or she chooses one.

The pious Don Diego had the secretary give many lines in the
"Relaciones" of this strange custom where the fair fond ones offered
marriage--or accepted a gift as memento. He even strutted a bit that
the poor heatheness offered to him what best she could afford in
exchange for the divine grace of a good sprinkling of holy water. But
Yahn said things of the baptism not good for ears polite, or for the
"Relaciones," and Säh-pah scuttled back in fear to her new master, and
told him,--and told Juan Gonzalvo, that the veins of Yahn Tsyn-deh
must be cut open to let out the Apache blood, before they could hope
she might be one of the heaven birds in their angel flock!

But Säh-pah did not tell them that the thing of torment awaking Yahn
to wrath had been the knowledge that Ka-yemo was somewhere across the
mesa, and the old people laughed that he could not stay longer from
the new wife, but had gone to seek her in the place of the old ruins.

After that, divine grace had not shielded Säh-pah from vituperation,
and when Juan Gonzalvo came wooing, Yahn told him that across the
hills was a woman waiting for a man, and dressed in fine skins and
many beads:--when he or his men had won Koh-pé the daughter of
Tsa-fah, to come back and tell her. She did not mean to be won easier
than the other, and without a price!

Which was also a novel statement for the truthful record of the
adventurers, and the secretary, on a terrace above, heard it, and
rolled on the flat roof in laughter, and wrote it down most
conscientiously. By such light matters was the dreariness of waiting
days lessened.

For plainly the days were to be of waiting. All the good will of
gift-bought friends helped the strangers not at all to the finding of
the trail of gold. In the sands of the streams some fragments no
larger than seeds of the grass were found, and in the cañon of
Po-et-se some of the adventurers dug weary hours in the strange soil
where the traces are yet plain of black ashes, and charred cinders far
beneath the sagebrush growth of to-day.

But while the Te-hua men gave good will for their digging, yet more
than that they could not give, for the reason that no more than two
persons could hold in trust that secret of the Sun Father's
symbol--and only certain members of the Po-Ahtun order knew even the
names of those two people.

After much patient delving had Ka-yemo learned that this was so, for
the thing was not a tribal matter, but a thing of high medicine in the
Po-Ahtun order. Not even the governor knew who held the secret. When
the time came for certain religious ceremonies, some of the yellow
stone was placed on the shrine of the weeping god with other prayers,
but it was a sacred thing, as was the pollen of the corn, and no man
asked from whence it came. To be told meant that the person told was
made guardian until the death blankets wrapped him. It was a great
honor. No man could ask for it. A brother might not know that his
brother was the keeper of the trust. Only the head men of the secret
order of Spirit Things could know.

In vain Juan Gonzalvo swore, and Padre Vicente used diplomacy and made
wondrous fine impression as the ambassador for the king of all Spain
and the Indian Island!

Don Ruy took the secretary and Yahn Tsyn-deh, and went to the governor
of Kah-po where his reception was kindly, but the information given
him was slight.

That dignitary told him that his men of Mexico might dig great caves
if they chose in search for the yellow metal of the sun symbol, but
that to Povi-whah had been given the secret of the gold at the time
when Señor Coronado had burned the two hundred men at the stake in
Tiguex. All the old men knew that gold was the one thing the men of
iron searched for. Before that time all villages had men who knew
where it was hidden by the Sun Father. But a council of head men had
been called. It had been a great council and long. At the end of it,
one village was chosen, one order of that village, and two members of
that order, and in the ears of those two alone was whispered the
hiding place. No man could know who the two keepers of the secret
might be, for it had to do with sacred things and with strong magic,
and in that way did the villages decide to guard the secret of the
High Sun.

"No chance here for whispers of courtiers and king's counselors to get
abroad in the land," decided Don Ruy as they mounted their horses for
the home ride and Yahn lingered to gossip with neighbors. "In the
south the conquerors could fight for gold and win it--but in this land
of silence with whom is one to fight?"

"Need you the gold so much that you must come between these poor
people and their god in the sky?" asked the secretary doubtfully, for
the attitude of the two had been of extreme politeness and not so much
of comradeship since that morning of confession when the lad had owned
himself a deficient page in the bearing of love messages,--"Is the
finding of the gold a matter of life or of death?"

"It pays for most good things," stated Don Ruy. "How know you that I
do not beggar myself on this expedition? And to go back with empty
hands would win little of favor for me from even the well-guarded Doña
of the Mexic tryst."

"You forget, Excellency," said the lad and smiled, "she is called mad
you know--and to a mad maid you might return in a cloak of woven
grasses, or of shredded bark, and lack nothing of welcome."

"Humph! Only to a mad maid dare I return coatless, and find an open
gate? And suppose it be another than the gentle maniac whom I seek?--a
cloak of grasses would be a sorry equipment to cover my failure."

"There is one right good blanket at your disposal," said the lad
looking straight out across the river, yet feeling the color mount to
his hair as Don Ruy regarded him keenly and then clapped him on the
shoulder.

"I'll claim half of the blanket when the day comes!" he declared--"and
in truth I'd not be so sorry to see the maid of your discourse whether
mad or of sanity. That ever restless Cacique who strives to bar us
out, shows me that more than one Indian may have gone mad in the same
struggle. Think you he must know the keepers of the secret of gold?"

"It would not be strange, since he is the head of the magicians and
the worker of spirit things."

"God send that Juan Gonzalvo gets not that idea strongly in his
mind--it would be the cap sheaf to the stack of his grievances."

"And it would be the one to weigh most heavily with his reverence the
padre"--added Chico. "His soul is set on treasure for the Holy
Brotherhood--and to win in secret where Coronado and the church failed
with all the blare of trumpets, means that no man in the Indies would
have a name written above that of the patient and devout Padre
Vicente."

"You say things, lad, with a serious face;--but with a mocking voice,"
commented Don Ruy. "Tell me truly if the life of a page in the palace
of the Viceroy teaches you so much of politics and holy orders that
you combine the two and grow skeptic to each?"

"A page sees more than he understands--" returned the lad, "it was the
teaching of your mad Doña of the silken scarf who saw things as the
priests told her they were not to be seen,--she it was who taught me
to laugh instead of doing penance."

"And she it was also no doubt who taught you of magic Mexic things in
keeping with the fairy Melissa of Charlemagne's day, and Merlin the
magian of Britain?"

"Heigh-ho! It is precious magic those old romancers did tell of!"
agreed the lad. "Think how fine it would be if we had those enchanted
steeds and lances,--and the fair daughter of the Khan of Kathay for
company through the wilderness!"

"She was too fickle, and too much the weeping fair," decided Don Ruy.
"Bradamante the warrior maid is more to the fancy--she would fight
for the lover she loved--or against him as the case might be, yet give
love to him all the time! She was the very pole-star of those old
romances--but they make no such maids except in books!"

"Not so much pity for that," commented the secretary. "Since she was
too easily won for the hearth stone of a plain man. It is clearly set
down that she spoke with her pagan lover but once, and fell
straightway so deep in love that she would fight either Christian or
Moor to find the way to him. A maid like that looks well afar off, but
it would take a valiant man to house with her!"

"How know you aught of how many times eyes must meet--or words be said
ere love comes?" demanded Don Ruy--"Bantam that you are!--Must a man
and a maid see summer and winter together ere the priest has work to
do?"

"Alas--and saints guard us!--we need not to live long to see denial of
that!" said the secretary and shrugged and smiled. "But since a maid
close to my own house throws lilies to strange cavaliers, it is not
for me to make discourse of ladies light-of-love!"

"Light-of-love!--Jack-a-napes! You know not so much after all if you
get that thought cross wise in your skull! My 'Doña Bradamante' (for
as yet neither you or the padre have given a name to her!) the 'Doña
Bradamante' spoke no word the most rigid duenna could have frowned
down! If you are her foster brother you might have gathered that much
of wisdom to yourself!"

"But--your Excellency--she has never scattered wisdom broadcast on any
one of us! An elfish maid who needed guard of both duenna and
confessor:--how was a mere friend to know that a love of a mad moment
would have made her a wonder of wisdom and discretion?"

Whereupon Don Ruy suggested that he go to the devil and learn sense,
and added that if the famous magic steed, or ring of invisibility were
to be found in the desert regions of these Indian provinces, he would
use them for a peep into the palace of the Viceroy, or the nunnery of
the Doña of the Lily. No ambassador would he trust. For himself he
would see how much or how little of madness was back of the message of
the blossom, or the guerdon of the silken scarf.

"If I were indeed a worthy page I would make a song of your
enchanted--or demented Doña, and pipe it to you to the tombé of the
medicine workers on the roofs," declared the lad in high glee that Don
Ruy again spoke with frankness to him.

But his excellency put aside the offer, content to make his own songs
when there was a maid to listen.

"Dame Yahn Tsyn-deh might listen--and even make herself beautiful for
you."

"The Dame Yahn is like enough to make trouble without the singing of
songs! Whether it is the Indian war capitan, or our own, I know not as
to the favorite. But some game she is playing, and I doubt if it is
for Juan Gonzalvo, despite his gifts."

Padre Vicente and José were walking apart under a group of the white
limbed cottonwoods, as the two riders drew near the village. Their
discourse was earnest, and the voice of the padre was heard in
decision.

"That is how it must be, José--" he said. "You have found the
way,--the gold is as good as ours!"

"By the faith!"--said Don Ruy swinging from the saddle to join them;
"if this be true let us fill wallets and break camp for Mexico!--there
is a gentle maniac over there with whom I would fain hold hands once
more--this womanless paradise pleases me little!"

The padre regarded him with tolerance, and never a blink of the eye to
denote remembrance of any gentle maniac in particular. Since the dame
had served a worthy purpose, forgotten was all the episode!

"It is well you know the good tidings of José," he said--"though there
is no hint that the gold is piled in bars waiting for the lading.
Speak, José."

"It is a man of Ni-am-be," said José. "He has been outcast for a
reason. He lives alone, and the fear of the alone is growing in him,
for he is old! He was one of the men who made medicine to forget where
the sign of the Sun Father hides in the earth. But the medicine was
not good medicine."

"He does not forget?"

"He made a vow to the sky to forget, but the sky did not listen and
take the vow. He does not forget."

"And he will show the place?"

"It may be he will show the place. He asks me if it is a good life to
live with your people, also if you would take him away when you go."

"Oh--ho!--he fears what would happen if he was left behind after
telling--he fears they would kill him?"

"Not so much of the to kill is he afraid. He was a medicine man. He
knows what the other medicine men could do. He would wish for the to
die many times and they would not let death come near to his cave in
the rock."

"By their magic?" asked Don Ruy.

"By their magic, Excellency. Of all the head men is he afraid, but of
Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho who has the sight of the dark is he much
afraid."

"The sight of the dark?"

"It is so, some men are born into the world with it. They know the
thought of the other man,--they see the hidden things. Tahn-té has the
strong medicine and the eyes to see. He is much afraid of Tahn-té the
Ruler."

"You see the power of these necromancers with their satanic arts?"
said Padre Vicente. "We must make it plain to these people that such
fear is to be driven out only by the true church and the power of its
saints."

"If we wait for the gold until we teach them all that, the profit of
this journey will be to our heirs and not to ourselves," decided Don
Ruy. "Pay the renegade for the secret he should have forgotten, take
him along with us, and convert him at your leisure. In all good time,
and with a larger guard of men, you can come for the further
conversion of the tribe."

"There is wisdom in what you say," replied the padre, "for converts
here will mean a waiting game. But once let us take to Mexico the
golden proof of the wealth in this province and there will be eager
troops and churchmen in plenty to cross the deserts and defend the
faith. But for that devil-possessed Po-Ahtun-ho the road to success
would be shorter."

"It is not good luck to say things against the man of strong magic,"
stated José. "Ka-yemo, the war capitan would like if Tahn-té had
never come from the land of the Hópitû--but Ka-yemo says no evil words
of Tahn-té--he knows that Tahn-té has ears to hear far off, and eyes
to see in the dark."

"Do you forget you are a Christian soul?" demanded the padre. "The
holy saints can kill the evil powers even in the sons of Satan! Let me
hear no more of the 'eyes of the dark;'--pagan trickery!"

José said no more, but it was easy to see that the veneer of foreign
ritual had made little impression on the Indian mind. He feared all
the devils of the Christian hell, and most of the gods of the pagan
pantheon. A policy of propitiation towards all the unseen powers is
the wise and instinctive attitude of the primitive mind. He slipped
his prayer beads through his fingers as taught for prayer, but to be
quite certain that evil be bribed to keep its distance, he stealthily
scattered prayer meal as he walked behind the others, and Yahn who was
coming behind them, saw him, and laughed. She was glad of heart to see
that the Te-hua, after years of the white man's religion, was still at
heart, a devotee of the Sun.

"He says that Tahn-té the Ruler has not the strong magic," he said
lowly to Yahn--"but no one else says so in this land."

Yahn did not care to discuss the power of Tahn-té--it was a bitter
thing in her days.

And as the little group went on through the fragrant sage and the
yellow bloom, Tahn-té himself stood almost on their trail, but a
little to one side where a knoll was.

Still as a thing of stone he stood there. His hand shaded his eyes
while he gazed across the sage levels--across the water of the river
and to the yellow and red sands beyond.

Even at their footsteps near, and their voices, he made no sign and
wavered not in his gaze. Don Ruy glancing at him saw that his
expression was keen, yet incredulous. So strange was it that Don Ruy
instinctively turned in his saddle to see the thing at which Tahn-té
looked and frowned.

At first he could see only the wavering lines of heat across the
level--and then he saw the thing, and with a word halted the others
and pointed.

Out of the red and yellow sand and soft green patches of the desert
growth a group of men were outlined against the low hills. Indians
with lances and with shields.

"That is a curious thing," said Don Ruy. "They walk this way yet their
steps bring them not closer! Is it a war party?"

Yahn gave one look, drew her breath sharply, and turned speechless to
Tahn-té. José after a long look crossed himself many times and gripped
the sleeve of the padre.

"Navahu!"--he muttered, the terror of his ancient first captors coming
over him. "Navahu to battle!"

But Tahn-té made a little gesture to reassure the startled interpreter.

"You do not see men alive there," he said,--"these are not men, but
the shadows of men who will come."

"Shadows?"--the tones of the padre were contemptuous.

"Spirit people of the shadows--these things do come to some eyes, some
days, in our land," stated Tahn-té quietly. "This time you have also
been given to see that these things are."

Even as he spoke the mirage of the armed men faded in a whirl of sand
caught up by a wandering wind, and while the others still stared at
the place where it had been, Tahn-té passed them and ran with easy
stride across the levels to Povi-whah.

The Spanish crossed themselves, and even Yahn Tsyn-deh trembled.
Tahn-té had chosen to show the men of iron that his medicine was
strong to bring visions, and what was most wonderful--to bring them
before the eyes of other men!

José was shaking with fear.

"All things he hears," he muttered--"all things! Under the trees we
spoke words--far off they reached his ears! He waited to show us that
his eyes were for the dark or the day--or--the _dead_! The spirit men
were Navahu. Holy Father, he can bring all the men who ever died to
tramp us into the sand! Holy Father, my heart is very sick!"

The others were silent. All were awed, and Padre Vicente was thinking
what was most wise to say. There were enough in the group for strong
witness that Tahn-té had shown them a thing which did not exist;--only
a sorcerer could call up men out of the earth and send them away on
the wind!

"In the sorcery we had no part, my children," he said at last. "The
man who raised those demons fled, as you see, at the sign of the
cross! To-morrow morning we have a mass. It is well to walk in prayer,
when Satan works with his chosen helpers."

Don Ruy looked at him sharply--for the mirage could not be a thing of
wonder for so travelled a man. But his was not the task to correct
eminence as to natural or infernal agencies, and the effect on the
minds of the two interpreters might prove a thing of grace!

Therefore he bent his head, and rode onward, and smiled at the
secretary, who was careful to ride close, and showed none too much of
courage at this glimpse of the magic of the barbarian who clasped
hands with the gods--or the demons!

"What dare be written in the 'Relaciones' of a thing like that?" he
queried.--"You smile, Excellency, as if you carried a magic shield, or
enchanted sword lifted from pages of old romance, but what think you
Señor Brancadori will say to this thing of wonder? It does not belong
to the living world we know."

"Let it not get into your dreams," suggested Don Ruy--"or if you do,
content yourself with the fancy that I indeed bear a magic shield and
am ever near enough for you to hide behind it."

"I am not so much a coward!" retorted the lad,--"to die for a good
cause in any human way is not a thing to fear--but these magical
works--"

"Without doubt they do belong to the sorcery of Satan," said Don Ruy
soberly, yet with an eye on the padre--"and yon supple racer is of
course one of his heirs. Stay you close to me, lad, and forget not
your orisons."

When they reached the camp, a herald was calling to the people from
the terraces. He was calling for all the men to prepare for battle. In
a vision of the bright day had Tahn-té seen the coming of the Navahu.
The medicine of Tahn-té was strong. Not at home would they wait for
battle. To steal women had the enemy taken the trail to the dwellings
of the Ancient ruins in the hills, and there must the warriors prepare
to meet them on the trail.

The names of men were called as scouts, and the response was quick, as
one after another ran to the kiva for orders, and then started on the
run towards mesa and forest.

Don Ruy looked after them with eyes perplexed.

"Does the Cacique regard the mirage with earnestness?" he said to the
padre who also watched and listened. "The man has a quick, good brain
and marvellous understandings,--but to prepare for battle because of a
sun picture in the sand is scarce what I looked for in him."

Padre Vicente smiled with his lips, and stroked his beard.

"You have yet to learn that the Indian magic workers let no tricks go
by to prove their greatness,"--he said. "That wench and José were
witness to the thing--thus he must claim it as his own! When the
scouts find no Navahu warriors, be sure it will be for the reason that
the magic of the sorcerer caused them to turn back in weakness on the
trail!"

"That will but strengthen his power, if it be so," agreed the younger
man,--"and how will you surmount that fear of him, and win the
renegade of Ni-am-be to give the word we need?"

"Protection and a life of ease away from the Indian magicians is a
good bribe for an outcast,--and it may be that fortune plays into our
hands. I could wish that the Cacique would follow the scouts with his
mummeries and incantations. You see how they have taught even José the
fear of him!"

"Yes--I do see, and but for the story that in this one village is held
the gold secret, I should say to move camp to some province where
bookish caciques hold no sway. How account you for the keen brain of
this wonder-worker? We have pampered and tutored numbskulls in
Seville who know not even their own creed so well as it is known by
this heretic barbarian."

"Without doubt it is the power of the Prince of Darkness," and Padre
Vicente gave the opinion with all due force--having in remembrance
that scene of the gift of the rosary in the kiva, and seeing clearly
that the Spanish adventurer had more than a little of admiration for
the unexpected daring of the pagan.--"Witchcraft and sorcery are of
the Devil, and both white men and savages do trade their souls for
evil knowledge. To strip him of his ill-gotten power would be a work
of grace for the Faith--and it is a thing for which each Christian
should gladly say many prayers!"

Don Ruy well knew that these ardent words were directed at his own
luke-warmness in regard to the young Ruler. Maestro Diego and Juan
Gonzalvo had distanced him in setting a good example to the men of the
guard!

A messenger from the kiva approached and spoke to Yahn, and she came
to the Spaniards with a message.

A council was in the kiva. It was about war if war came. The
Po-Ahtun-ho thought it was good that one of the white visitors be
asked to sit and listen; Don Ruy was invited to be that one. The man
José was to interpret.

Don Ruy speculated as to the cause of this courtesy. The Ruler
certainly did not desire the help of the white men--the message did
not even say as much. But it was plain that there were two parties on
that question, and Tahn-té meant to show no fear of his opponents.
They would see he gave them fair chances.

So he went, and José followed, and Yahn watched them--to her great,
yet silent rage.

Ka-yemo only reached the village as the last scout was started for the
trail of the Po-et-se cañon. Ka-yemo was the official for the war
orders, yet the orders had been given without speech with him! Over
his head had it been done, and his protest to the governor, and to the
old men in council brought him little of pride or of comfort.

"On the trail to see your wife you might have died," said one of the
old men,--"or on the way coming home. How could we know? If you die
and we have to fight--we have to fight without you. Before you were
born we fought without you."

"I was not to see a wife!" protested Ka-yemo. "I can stay away like
other men. Some one has talked crooked! I was on the mesa talking with
the guardians who make the arrow heads. To the far away ones I talked.
The women send word to them that they are afraid. A ghost is at Pu-yé.
All the women but the Twilight Woman are much frightened. They want
men."

"Good!" said the governor. "The scouts are already on the trail. If
men are needed, each man is ready and each spear is waiting. To the
Po-Ahtun-ho has been shown a vision of the enemy--it was not a time to
wait for council."

Ka-yemo's handsome face was still sulky. The vision of Tahn-té might
have waited. He had come down with a fine new story of a ghost seen in
the ruins of Pu-yé, and it was ignored because Tahn-té the Po-Athun-ho
had found a vision!

Tahn-té entered not at all into the discussion of the confiscated
rights of Ka-yemo. Even of the ghost frightening the women he asked no
question. Many things of war were talked of if the Navahu should come
to steal women or corn, and the dusk of the twilight crept after the
vanished sun when Tahn-té turned at last to the war chief.

"Ka-yemo, with the men of iron you have spoken much and often," he
said quietly. "Do you know who told them first that in Povi-whah was
held the secret of the yellow metal for which they search?"

The tongue of Ka-yemo became stiff as all sat silent waiting for his
answer.

"The padre asked me,"--he said at last,--"the padre always makes
people speak--I told the padre that which I had heard."

There was a slight stir among the men, but Tahn-té quieted them with a
glance.

"The priest of the iron men has also been told one other thing," he
continued--"and it is well for you all, brothers, that you hear this
thing. Oh-we-tahnh, the outcast of Ni-am-be, was a strong medicine
man. He used magic in a dark way for evil. His power was taken from
him. He was told by the council to forget the secret of the sun
symbol. Brothers, he has not forgotten! He has come to the camp of the
men of iron. He eats their food:--last night he slept by their
walls."

"Our brothers of Ni-am-be will not be glad with us if we let this be,"
stated one man. "The evil magic must be outcast always."

"Send some one and find the man," said Tahn-té. "When the sun of
to-morrow comes, all who listen here may be on the war trail. It is
not good to leave a coyote loose to do harm when no one watches."

In a little while the outcast was brought into the circle. He cringed
with fear, and his eyes were restless as those of a trapped wolf. The
governor questioned him as to his presence there, reminding him that
the council of Ni-am-be had granted him life only if he take that life
out of sight of his kind. Why then did he come to Povi-whah and stay
in the camp of the strangers?

His only reply was that he would go now, and he would go quickly.

"No--not quickly," said Tahn-té. "You will not go quickly any where
ever again. I am looking at you! I say so!"

The man stared at Tahn-té like a bird that was under a charm. All the
others saw the steady gaze of Tahn-té, and saw also that the outcast
began to tremble.

"Hold out your hand," said Tahn-té, and when it was done, Tahn-té took
from his medicine pouch some pieces of yellow gold. They were heavy,
he passed them around until all might see, then he put the gold in the
hand of the outcast.

"Your clan was a proud clan and good, and you made them ashamed," said
Tahn-té. "You had strong medicine and you used it for evil until your
name must not be spoken by your brothers. To these men of iron you
would trade that which is not yours: Without speech of council you
would do this--and to do it would be traitor! Because your heart
wishes to give the sun symbol to these strangers, I send you to them
with what your hand can hold. To the priest of the white god give it!
Tell him I, the Po-Ahtun-ho, send it, and no more than that will he
ever see here in Povi-whah. Tell him that the weight of it makes your
hand shake and your body shake. Tell him that the sickness is now in
your blood, and when the day comes again your tongue cannot make words
to tell him things. Tell him if his men put you in the saddle, or
carry you to the hidden place of the Sun Father, that the light of
your eyes will go out on the trail! I am looking at you!--and you, who
once had a name, and were a worker of magic, know that I look on you
with Power, and that it will be as I say."

He stooped and drew in the ashes of the place of fire, the figure of a
man with hand stretched out, then, with a breath, he sent the ashes in
a little cloud and each line was obliterated.

"To destroy you would not be good,"--he continued. "It is better that
the boys and the young men see the fate given to a traitor. My
brothers,--is this well?"

"It is well!" said the men, but the voice of the war chief was not
loud, and his hands shook until he clasped them together and held them
steady.

Tahn-té looked around the circle as though undecided, and then rested
on Ka-yemo.

"You speak the words of the Castilian man, and like to speak them," he
said quietly, "so it will be well for you to make the words for this
man who carries to their priest the gift of the sun symbol. Forget no
thought of it--for all the words have meaning."

And this speech to Ka-yemo was in Castilian, and was plainly said, and
Ruy Sandoval knew then why the courtesy of the council had been
extended to him.

And the outcast, holding the nuggets in his trembling outstretched
hand shook so that he could not go alone up the ladder to the world
above.

Ka-yemo, with a still, strange face of fear, put out his hand to help
the outcast, who looked as if Great King Death had called his name.

No more words were spoken, and the men in silence followed after.
They had seen a thing of strong medicine, and the Great Mystery had
sent power quickly. That palsy by which the man had been touched had
come with the swiftness of the wind when it whirls the leaves of the
cottonwood. They all knew that the tongue would be dumb, and the eyes
would be blind in the given time if need be.

And Don Ruy like the others, was touched with awe of the man who had
wrought the thing. As he went up the ladder he looked back at the
Ruler who sat still--gazing into the ashes of the place of sacred
fire.




CHAPTER XIV

THE TRUE VISION


The sentinels on the terrace who watched the night in Povi-whah knew
these were nights when they did not watch alone. The Po-Ahtun-ho
was abroad in the night for prayer, and when they made reports in
the morning, they knew that he had not waited for such reports ere
being wise as to each shining path of a bright spirit sent earthward
by the Great Mystery,--or each shadow passing over the Mother of the
Starry Skirt, or the nearness of the visiting Ancient Star to the
constellations on its trail to the twilight land of many days.

They knew he was watching the world overhead. With the Piñ-pe-yé, that
mystic compass of the Milky Way, was he balancing the fate of things
as written in the light of the Sky Mother whose starry skirt was a
garment to which departed souls cling. So many are the souls of earth
people that their trail makes luminous the white way of the sky, and
all the world, and all the people, can of course be seen from that
height of the sky, and when a dart of heat lightning sped earthward to
the west, the sentinels cast prayer meals and knew that Those Above
were sending messages to Tahn-té who prayed as no other prayed.

And on the heights were his prayers, for ever it was to the mesa and
beyond that his trail led since the mighty wrath of the wind by which
the corn was broken to earth. The darkness was often running from the
dawn ere he came downward from the hills into the valley.

A scout, speeding eastward from the mountains in the dawn saw him
coming down from the ancient place of the Reader of the Stars in
Pu-yé--the sacred place where no other reader of the Sky Things goes
in the night. The Lost Others are known to abide there, and mourn the
barren field of the older day.

At times strange magic circles the ancient dwellings of the cliff.
Before a storm, light flickers like fiery butterflies above the fallen
walls on the summit.

For this reason was it deemed holy, and for this reason were the women
of Shufinne much afraid when the ghost of a woman was seen plainly
there between the edge of the cliff, and the silver disk of the moon.

The scout carried this word, and Tahn-té who had been seen coming from
prayers there, listened, but gave little heed;--the women had seen
shadows, and the older men said they were only weary that the men were
so far across the mesas. Fire out of the sky, or out of the earth, had
often danced on those heights, but no woman had been there in a ghost
form ever in the memory of men.

Much more were they intent to know of any trace of warriors on the
hills, but only smoke had been seen far beyond the place of the
boiling water of the hill springs, and the smoke could easily be of
Ua-lano hunters. Other scouts were yet to come. They had made longer
runs. This man had been told to return at dawn of the day.

[Illustration: ONE GIRL WAITED AT THE PORTAL _Page 288_]

So the word went abroad, and in the Castilian camp, Don Diego gave
fervent thanks. He was none too well pleased that to secure records
for the "Relaciones" it might be necessary to carry a spear against
the heathen. It had been plainly understood in far off Mexico that the
people to be visited were not a hostile people. They were to be found
waiting for salvation, and with good gold to pay for it!

The offer of the padre to give aid in battle to their Indian brethren,
had been but a courteous pleasantry when uttered. It was a different
matter when scouts were sent abroad by the pagan Ruler to seek trouble
and bring it home to all of them!

Trouble enough was he brewing by that gift to the padre of the sacred
sun symbol. The pariah who brought it was under the curse medicine of
Tahn-té. Before their eyes he sat dumb, and the Castilians crossed
themselves with dread as they looked on him. He was the visible
warning of a doom awaiting any other who dared speak!

Not alone could he lift water to his own lips. The trembling of his
hand was now the trembling of his entire body. By order of Tahn-té he
was to be taken to one of the little cliff dwellings at the foot of
the mesa. Each seven suns, an old man and a group of boys were to have
the task of carrying to him food and water, and each visit the boys
were to be told by the Ancient why the medicine had been put upon the
outcast. Thus all youth would know that the Great Mystery sent power
against traitors.

In vain Padre Vicente tried to scoff at the reality of it, or the
continuance of it. The men pointed to the palsied man, and prayers
were remembered by many who were not pious. Indian witchcraft was not
to their liking!

"Paracelsus with his necromancy has done nothing worse!" declared Don
Diego. "This barbarian priest lacks bowels in his devilish art! Had he
not sent the gift of gold, the aggravation would have been less
pointed. That insult from the heretic is not to be endured."

"Yet the saints do give us strength for the endurance, Señor," replied
the secretary, "and Don Ruy paces apart, and keeps key on his thoughts
since that council. Think you he fears magic of the Po-Ahtun-ho?"

"A good thing were it true!" decided Don Diego--"overmuch is he
inclined to countenance their pagan practices, and find likeness in
their mummeries to the mysteries of the Greek--and even the Egyptian
of ancient days! The sorcerer has snared him with that ungodly
learning of books. But while we see it, and know it, Chico my son, it
is as well that the thought enters not into the 'Relaciones.' Don Ruy
in the desert is a good comrade, but his Excellency in Madrid could
nip any book in the bud--even the most stupendous."

"He is so great in power?"

"He is--but it is enough to know that he is the darling of princes,
and has not yet been ignored by their sisters! That which he wants in
Madrid comes easily to his hand,--and this wild adventuring is
unprofitable madness."

"Not unprofitable shall it remain," decided Padre Vicente, who had
walked near enough to hear their converse, and whose interest was ever
alert to further knowledge of their patron.--"Let the heathen sorcerer
send what insolent message he will, it does not change the fact the
gold has been put into our hands. It is clear proof that the story of
the Indian mine was a story of truth."

"Strange it is that the abhorred Teo the Greek should have been the
one to carry word of it out to the world"--mused Don Diego. "Write
down in the 'Relaciones,' Chico, that the ways of the saints are
often wondrous peculiar in the selection of evil instruments for pious
works."

"Yes, Señor, and shall I write down also that the piety has not, up to
this date, made so much progress as devout minds could have hoped?"

"You may do so," conceded Don Diego--"but fail not to give the true
reason. Had these poor stubborn barbarians not sent their women away,
the padre would have won many souls for the faith ere this. Women are
the instruments through which religion reaches men. Not until the
women have been frightened back to their homes can we hope for a
comforting harvest of souls."

"There is one soul waiting to be gathered with the harvest," said the
lad, pointing to the outcast. "If Christian prayers could lift from
his shaking hands the pagan doom, it would not do more to make
converts here than wordy argument."

"The governor and the head men approve of his sentence because the man
made camp here without the word of council," stated Padre Vicente. "It
is not well to meddle with their Pueblo laws."

Yahn, who listened, saw the smile on Chico's face, and wondered why
the lad should be humorous because the priest did not venture to
measure saintly prayers with heathen medicine!

Glad enough she was that it was so, and eager she was that some one
should tell to Ka-yemo that his new friends had a weaker god than the
god of the Te-hua people,--even the medicine of Tahn-té--the medicine
of one man--made them respectful!

But her own lips were sealed between anger and jealousy. Like a sullen
figure of fate she had brooded during the days of strange changes.
Sullen also she listened to speech of sorcery, and speech of war if
war came.

To go to battle was the one way by which Ka-yemo could dominate and
make the men of iron see there was another than Tahn-té in Povi-whah.
This thing she thought of by day, and dreamed of in the night.

She heard his name on the lips of the old women and of Säh-pah, again
they talked of the day when the father had been left behind by the
warriors to pull weeds in the corn!

Like a chained tigress she walked the terraces and heard their
laughter, but no word did she say. If once their laughing words had
been said to her, she felt she would kill Säh-pah!

And Ka-yemo gazed at her with burning eyes afar off--yet looked the
other way if by chance they passed each other in the court of the
village. It was true he started over the mesa to Shufinne where the
new wife waited with the other young women and the girl children, but
midway on the trail the thought of Yahn and Juan Gonzalvo had come to
him--and he had turned in his tracks, and the new wife of the many
robes, and wealth of shell beads, was not seen by him.

Phen-tza the governor said hard words to him that his actions made
laughter,--and that he went about as in an angry dream, and that the
warriors asked who was to lead if the day vision of Tahn-té proved a
true vision!

"I did not see the vision of Tahn-té," retorted Ka-yemo--"the people
to whom he made it clear of sight, say it was across the river to the
sunrise--why then does Tahn-té ask for scouts running to the sunset
hills? That is new medicine."

"The council asked that thing while you were yet on the mesa," said
the governor patiently. "The people who saw the vision of Tahn-té saw
only the spirit form of Navahu warriors," and the governor puffed
smoke from his pipe to the four ways to propitiate the gods for the
mention of those who belonged in the spirit land. "But before the
vision was carried away by magic of the wind, Tahn-té saw more than
the others, he saw a dream mountain behind them--and cliffs and a
mountain pass that is known to his eyes. Through that pass they were
coming, and the pass is beyond the sacred mountain to the land of the
hunting ground of the sunset. By that trail he knows they come--or
they will come!"

"You think the vision of Tahn-té is clear, and his medicine good!"
said Ka-yemo--"But the men of iron are wise also. They call
him--sorcerer."

"It is not yet the time to say it aloud," warned the governor. "This
is a time of strange things, and our eyes saw that which came to the
outcast who carried the sun symbol to the men of iron. The medicine of
the white men is strong, and they could be good brothers in
battle,--but not yet has their man of sacred medicine shown magic like
that," and he pointed to the outcast waiting and shaking in the
sunshine against the wall of the village.

Ka-yemo knew by these words that even his own clan watched him
closely--Tahn-té had made the jealous hearts afraid.

Yahn saw him go alone to the river's edge, and sit long alone; his
handsome head was bent in thought and to no one could the thought be
told. From the terrace Yahn watched. It was a time when the war chief
should call men and see that bows were strong, and lances ready. It
was not a time to walk apart and be unseen of the warriors. One man,
who fastened a scalp to his lance for good medicine, talked with
Säh-pah, and the woman laughed and asked who would pull weeds in the
corn if all men went seeking the Navahu!

When Yahn Tysn-deh heard that, she went down from the terrace into her
own dwelling, and made prayers to her own gods of her Apache people.
With a blade of obsidian she made scars until the blood dripped from
her braceletted arms. To the divinely created Woman Without Parents,
she chanted a song of prayer, and to the Twin Gods who slew enemies,
she let her blood drop by drop fall on the sacred meal of the medicine
bowl:--all this that one man be given power--and all this that a
Te-hua clan be not ashamed in the sight of gods!

Through the words of her prayer she heard the hurry of feet, and the
shrill of voices, and past her dwelling tramped men of iron clanging
the metal of their arms, and the voice of Chico was heard calling her
name at the door, telling her the scouts had found the Navahu
camp:--to come quickly to Don Diego. Tahn-té had read aright the magic
of the vision of the sand and the sun!

And Yahn Tsyn-deh slipped shell ornaments over the wounds on her arms,
and went out to make words for the Christians.




CHAPTER XVII

THINGS REVEALED ON THE HEIGHTS


All the Castilians but Padre Vicente and Don Diego went with the
warriors to the western heights. For reasons of his own, the padre
preferred the pueblo when freed of the influence of Tahn-té, and Don
Diego preferred to bear him company,--a secretary could well look
after the records of warfare, if it came to warfare, though for his
own part he believed not any of the heathen prophecy of the coming of
warriors, and wondered much that his eminence, the padre, showed
patience with their pagan mummeries. He assured the padre that it
would be a wrong against Holy Church to grant the sacraments to the
pagan Cacique until that doom of the outcast had been revoked;--To
take the power of high God for the managing of pueblo matters was not
a thing to grant absolution for! And Padre Vicente, to quiet his
anxiety on that score, agreed that when the pagan Cacique came for
absolution, he should be reminded of his iniquity.

And while they settled this weighty matter, the young Ruler who had
prophesied, moved contrary to custom, with the leaders across the high
mesa, and was followed by the Castilian horsemen, in their shining
coats of mail, and on a mule led by Gonzalvo rode Yahn, unafraid, and
with proud looks.

And ever her eyes rested on Ka-yemo who held his place of chief, and
chanted a war song, and was so handsome a barbarian that Don Ruy made
mention of it, and told the secretary that he was worth an entire
page of the "Relaciones," even though not a thing of war came in their
trail.

The great white cliff of a thousand homes of the past, filled the
Castilian mind with wonder. Generations had lived and died since the
ghost city of the other days had throbbed with life, still the stucco
of the walls was yet ivory white, and creamy yellow, and it looked
from the pine woods like a far reaching castle of dreams.

It was nearing the sunset, and a windless heat brooded over the
heights where usually the pines made whisperings, clouds of flame
color hung above the dark summits of the mountain, and the reflected
light turned the ghostly dwellings to a place of blood-tinged mystery.
More than one of the adventurers crossed themselves. Don Ruy said it
looked, in the lurid glow, like a place of enchantment.

"But there are beautiful enchantments," said Chico--"and this may be
one of them! Think you we might find walls pictured by Merlin the
magian if we but climb the steep? Magic that is beautiful should not
be hedged around by a mere ocean or two!"

"This is the place of the ghost woman," stated Yahn,--"and Shufinne,
where the women are afraid, is beyond."

Within sight was Shufinne, and there the Castilians had expected to
camp. But among the older Indians there had been talk--and who can
gauge the heathen mind?

"Two camps will we make," they decided. "Here is most water for the
animals and here our white brothers can wait; at Shufinne will the
Te-hua guard be awake all the night, and give warning if the enemy
comes,--other guards will watch the trail of the cañon. Thus we cover
much ground,--no one can pass to the villages of the river;--and
quickly can all camps help the one where the enemy comes."

"Not so bad is the generalship in spreading their net," said Don Ruy.

"Nor in excluding the stranger from the hiding place of their pretty
maids," added Chico with amusement. "Ysobel--ride you close to me.
This is the place where they herd their women, and guard them,--and
you are not so ill favored in many ways as some I have seen."

Ysobel whimpered that it was not to follow war she had left Mexico and
her own people, and like Don Diego she could see no good reason to
search for trouble in the hills.

"Then why not stay behind safe walls with the padre?" asked Don Ruy,
and Ysobel went dumb and looked at Chico--and the lad shrugged and
smiled.

"Has she not married a man?" he queried, "and does not the boy Cupid
make women do things most wondrous strange in every land? José would
fare as well without her watchful eye, but no power could make her
think it,--so come she would on a lop-eared mule despite all my fine
logic!"

"You--yourself--would come!" retorted Ysobel, "so what--"

But Chico prodded the mule so that it went frisky and sent its heels
in the air, and but for Don Ruy the beast might have left the woman on
the ground.

"What imp possesses you to do mischief to the dame?" he demanded--"and
why laugh that she follows her husband? When you have more years you
may perhaps learn what devotion may mean!"

"Never do I intend to strive for more knowledge of it than I possess
at this moment!" declared Chico--"see to what straits it has led that
poor girl, who, but for this matter of a man, would have been good and
safe working in a convent garden. Small profit this marriage business
is!"

"A selfish Jack-a-napes might you be called," remarked Don Ruy, "and
much I wonder that the woman bears patiently your quips. Give us ten
more years, and we'll see you mated and well paid for them!"

"Ten years!"--and the lad whistled,--"let me wait ten of my years and
I can wait the rest of them!"

"Name of the devil!" laughed Don Ruy--"if you grow impatient for a
mate, we'll charge yon citadel and capture one for you!"

"Oh, my patience can keep step with your own will, Excellency,"
retorted the lad. "I've no fancy for halting the expedition, or of
making a winning through another man's arms."

"Your conceit of yourself is quite up to your inches," observed his
patron. "When you've had a few floutings you'll be glad to send
signals for help."

"One flouting would be enough to my fancy--I'd straightway borrow
myself a monk's robe."

"We all think that with the first love affair--or even the second--"
volunteered Don Ruy--"but after that, philosophy grows apace, and we
are willing to eat, drink--and remain mortal."

Ysobel giggled most unseemly, and Chico stared disapproval at her.

"Why laugh since you know not anything of such philosophy, Dame
Ysobel?" he asked. "It is not given many to gather experience, and
philosophies such as come easily to the call of his Excellency."

The woman hung her head at the reproof, and his Excellency lifted
brows and smiled.

"You have betimes a fine lordling's air with you," he observed. "Why
chide a woman for a smile when women are none too plentiful?"

But they had reached the place of the camp, and the secretary swung
from the saddle in silence. Don Ruy watching him, decided that the
Castilian grandfather must have been of rank, and the Indian
grandmother at least a princess. Even in a servant who was a friend
would the lad brook nothing of the familiar.

Tahn-té stood apart from the Spanish troop while camp was being made,
and a well dug deeper in a ravine where once the water had rippled
clear above the sand. The choice of camp had not been his. The old men
and the warriors had held up hands, and the men of iron were not to
see the women at Shufinne,--so it had been voted.

The lurid glow of the sky was overcast and haste was needed ere the
night and perhaps the storm, came. Since it was voted that Pu-yé be
the shelter, Tahn-té exacted that only the north dwellings be
used--the more sacred places were not to be peered into by strange
eyes!

A Te-hua guard was stationed at the ancient dwelling of the Po-Ahtun.
Near there alien feet must not pass. Where the ruins of ancient walls
reached from edge to edge of the mesa's summit, there Te-hua guards
would watch through the night, and signal fires on Shufinne mesa would
carry the word quickly if help was needed.

A Navahu captive from Kah-po came with men of Kah-po, and was left at
Pu-yé. Juan Gonzalvo stationed his own guards, having no fancy for
sleep with only painted savages between his troop and danger. Ka-yemo
for no stated reason lingered near, and watched the Castilians, and
watched Yahn Tsyn-deh;--so sullen and strong had grown his jealousy
that here in the hills--apart from the padre, he dared think what
could be made happen to the little cluster of white men if the Kah-po
men would join Povi-whah for battle,--and if--

Under the eyes of Padre Vicente no such thought would have dared come
to him,--but he had brief wild desires to win by some stroke, a power
such as Tahn-té held without question. Let the Castilian whisper
"sorcerer" ever so loudly, yet the old men of Te-hua would give no
heed without proofs--and who could make proofs against Tahn-té?

The words of the governor had cut deep--and Yahn who was of the
Tain-tsain clan, would rage if the clan gained not credit by the war
chief,--and Gonzalvo the man of iron,--would then take her to
himself--and--He walked apart in rage. From the ancient dwelling of
the Po-Ahtun he could hear the chanting of a war song. Tahn-té was
invoking the spirits of battle--Tahn-té it was who had seen the vision
of warriors and started scouts to the hills;--on every side was he
reminded that Tahn-té the priest--was looked upon as Tahn-té the
warrior heart!

The Castilians would go back to their own land with that word to their
people, and to their king;--and he, Ka-yemo,--would have no mention
unless it should be of the weeds pulled in the corn!

His heart was so sick and so angry that he could almost hear the
laughter if he returned without honors:--but one man should not
laugh!--He did not know how it would happen that he could have the
Capitan Gonzalvo killed--but that man should not laugh with Yahn
Tsyn-deh!

[Illustration: IN CASTILIAN WAR DRESS HE STOOD _Page 293_]

In his sick rage he had brooded and walked far. Along the summit of
the mesa among the ruins had he walked to the east. The weird dead
city of the Ancient Days was made more weird by the strange brooding
heat of the dusk. No cool air of the twilight followed the setting sun
this night. Sounds carried far. No fires were lit in the camp
below--yet movements of the animals told him where the Castilians
tethered their wonderful comrades of the trail.

At any other time he would not have walked alone on the heights where
mystery touched each broken wall, and wrapped the mesa as in a strange
medicine blanket. But in his impotent rage he felt spirit forces of
destruction working against him, and the dread of them dulled his
senses as to the place where he wandered.

And then his heart jumped with a new fear as the form of a woman arose
from a crevice in the stone wall--did the ghost of the ruin wait for
him there?

The figure halted uncertainly and then ran toward him with outreaching
hand.

It was Yahn Tsyn-deh, and she was half laughing and half sobbing, and
the barrier of anger was brushed aside as if it had never been.

"Ka-yemo!--Ka-yemo!" she whispered--"You dare be highest now;--and
Tahn-té will be under your feet, Ka-yemo!"

She clasped her arms about him as she stumbled, breathless, at his
feet, and his hands clutched her in fierceness.

"Is this a trick?"--he asked. "Have I trapped you with a lover, and
you run to me with a new game?"

"Oh--fool, you!" she breathed--"There was but one lover, and he went
blind, and walked away from me at a daybreak!"

She would have said more, but he caught her up and held her too close
for speech, and she felt in triumph the trembling of his body.

"The man Gonzalvo,"--he muttered--"I was walking to find the way I
could kill him alone because you wear his gifts."

"Fool!" she whispered again. "Shall I then go to a woman at Shufinne
and kill her because her gifts are with you? I let her live to see
that the gifts she brings are little beside my own! I bring you
victory over Tahn-té the sorcerer of Povi-whah! I bring you the trail
to his witch maid of the hills. With her he comes to make prayers in
the night time! For this he guards the dwellings of the star where she
is hidden. Tahn-té the sorcerer shall be under your feet! Ka-yemo--I
bring this to you!"

And while they clung to each other, scarce daring to think that union
and triumph was again their own, Tahn-té the Ruler of magic sat within
the ancient dwelling where the symbols of the Po-Ahtun are marked on
the walls even in this day.

In a shadowed corner a tiny fire glimmered, and by its light he
studied the clear crystal of the sacred fire-stone. With prayer he
studied it long, and the things speaking in the milky depths held him
close, and the breath stopped in his body many times while he looked,
and the prayers said through the Flute of the Gods were prayers to the
Trues to which he sent all his spirit.

Then from his medicine pouch he took the seeds of the sacred by-otle
into which the dreams of the gods have ever grown as the blossom
grows.

Darklings were these, gathered when the moon was at rest, and no
wandering stars swam high in the night sky. The dreams in these shut
out day knowledge, and the knowledge of earth life. For medicine
dreams they shut out all of a man but that which is Spirit, and the
body becomes as a dead body knowing not anything but dreams--feeling
neither heat nor cold.

Of all medicine left on earth by the gods who once walked here, not
any medicine is so strong to lift the soul to the Giver of Life even
while the feet walk here over trails of thorns, or the whipping thongs
cut bare to the bone the dancing flesh of penitents.

When Tahn-té had listened to Padre Luis, and had read of the grievous
pain of that one Roman crucifixion of the founder of the church of
Padre Luis, the boy had not been impressed as the good priest had
hoped. Even then he had heard of the medicine drugs of different
tribes, and the Medicine Spirit granted to some, and as a man he knew
that the man to whom the gods give medicine gifts can make for himself
joy out of that which looks like pain. He knew well that the earth
born who drew to themselves God-power, do not die, and the man on the
Roman cross could not die if his medicine Power of the Spirit was
strong. He knew that he had only gone away as all the god-men and
god-women have gone away at times from earth places.

He knew that strong magic of the spirit could always do this for a man
if his heart was pure and steady, but not to another could he give the
spirit power, or the heart of knowledge.

He counted over the seeds of the By-otle and knew that there were
enough to make even a strong man dream of joy while under torture.

After that he dared look more closely into the shifting lights of the
sacred fire stone, and the Castilians in the camp below, and the
guards on the level above, and the plotting woman, and her regained
slave and master heard the call of the Flute, and intonings of sacred
songs from the century old dwelling of the Po-Ahtun.

              "_The battle is here!
              The battle of gods is here!
              The flowers of shields have bloom,
              The death flowers grow!
              Among that bloom shall homes be made,
              Among the bloom shall we build fair homes.
              Brothers:--drink deep of warrior wine,
              For our enemies we build homes!
              Eat:--eat while there is bread.
              Drink--drink while there is water.
              A day comes when the air darkens,
              When a cloud shall darken the air,
              When a mountain shall be lifted up,
              When eyes shall be closed in death,
              Eat--eat while there is bread,
              Drink--drink of warrior wine!_"[A]

  [A] Book of Chilan Balam.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE BATTLE ON THE MESA


The stars had marked the middle of the night, and the Castilian camp
slept, save for the guards who paced quietly through the pine groves,
and the Te-hua sentinels on the summit above, who rested in silence at
the places where footholds carved by pre-historic Lost Others in the
face of the rock wall, afforded a trail for the enemy if the enemy
could find it.

Between the Castilians in the pine below, and the Te-hua sentinels on
the rock mesa of the ruins above, there stretched the line of cave
dwellings high in the rock wall. These needed no guard--for there the
Te-hua warriors slept, and Tahn-té read the fate of things in the
crystal, and made prayers.

But to the east where he had forbidden wandering feet, a man and woman
did crouch in a crevice, and watch while the shining ones overhead
travelled to the center of the sky and then towards the mountains in
the trail of the sun.

For Tahn-té they watched--and the watching was so long that the man
slept at intervals in the arms of the woman--but the woman did not
sleep! Victory was too near--and triumph beat in her blood, and like a
panther of the hills waiting for prey did she listen for the steps of
the man who had known her humiliation.

But when the steps did come, they came not from the Po-Ahtun-ho, nor
were they the steps of a man.

A woman crept lightly as a mountain squirrel from one to another of
the boulders on the eastern hill, and at last climbed to the dwellings
of the Ancient Ones, and reached the portal of the sacred place of the
star.

This was the place where the wise men of old watched the coming of the
gods as they gazed upon earth through the mask of the glimmering
stars. It was not a place for women, for no woman had been Reader of
the Stars within known records of the Te-hua people. Yet it surely was
a woman who crept upwards in the night to the place where women feared
to go.

Yahn Tsyn-deh slipped like a snake from the crevice and watched from
the shadow of a rock, and was richly repaid. It was the Woman of the
Twilight who came to the place where Tahn-té had forbidden the
Castilians and warriors to walk, and against the sky Yahn could see
the outline of a water jar borne on her back by the head-band of woven
hemp. She halted for breath, and leaned, a frail, breathless ghost of
a woman, against the wall.

Then with a pebble she tapped on the portal of the star, four times
she made the signal ere another met her in the dusk, and took from her
the burden, and clung to her hand in dread.

In the dusk of the starlight they sat and whispered, for no fire dare
be lit within, and the girl of the bluebird wing ate the bread and
drank water, and breathed her gratitude while she strove to understand
the words of the mother of Tahn-té.

That there was danger she knew for she had seen the many men. Like
things enchanted had she seen them--the men who looked like part of
the animals they rode! In dread and fear had she waited for Tahn-té
while she watched the Ancient Star glowing like an eye of wrath in
the western heavens. It was looking back with an evil look because no
gift had been made to it on the altars of the valley people. Tahn-té
had told her that so long as it shone must she remain hidden. She did
not need to ask why. When with the Navahu savages she had been taunted
at times because the altars of her people knew well the blood of human
sacrifice which they offered with elaborate ceremony to propitiate the
gods of the stars in the sky.

"Tahn-té?" she whispered to the mother, but the mother shook her head.
Apart from all woman-kind must a priest live when times of stress
come. Tahn-té was fasting and making prayers. A girl hidden in the
caves must not go hungry, but the thought of her must not mingle with
thoughts of penance for the tribe. All heads of the spiritual orders
do penance and make prayers for clear vision when the evil days come.

"And they are here?" questioned the girl.

"They are here. The land was smiling, the corn was good, all was good.
Then the Great Star came--and the men of iron came--the corn was laid
low by the God of the Winds. The Most Mysterious has sent signs to his
people, and the signs are evil and come quickly. My son, the
Po-Ahtun-ho, has seen these signs, and the gods have talked with
him."

The maid knew that a mere stray creature could not find room in the
thoughts of so great a man--at so great a time; and she sat silent,
but she reached out and held the hand of his mother. Since he could
not speak with her he had sent to her the woman most high and most
dear. He could not come, but he had not forgotten!

"He will come again?" she murmured, and some memory in the heart of
the Twilight Woman made her speech very gentle.

"He will come again when the battle is over, and the days of the
purification are over. It is the work of the Po-Ahtun-ho to see that
the stranger is ever fed and covered with a shelter. So has he brought
you here, and so has he brought the lion skin robe to you here. When
the young moon has grown to the great circle, and the strangers have
gone again to the camp by the river, then will the Po-Ahtun-ho come to
you here in this place. He will come as the circle moon rises over
Na-im-be hills. Many prayers will be made ere that night time, and he
will come with wisdom to say the thing to be done. Until then the
strangers must not see you, and the young foolish men of our tribe
must not see you."

Not much of this was understood by the bewildered maid who must be
kept hidden in secret even in the land of her own people.

But Yahn Tsyn-deh, crouching in the sand outside the portal, heard and
understood, and her heart was glad with happiness, for a vengeance
would fall double strong on Tahn-té if it touched also the medicine
god woman, his mother!

From the broken, whispered sentences--half Navahu--half Te-hua--did
Yahn know that the hidden woman was indeed the Navahu witch maid by
whom evil spirits had been led from the west into the great valley.

It had been a wonder night in the life of Yahn Tsyn-deh. The love of
her wild heart had been given back to her--and vengeance against his
rival had been put within reach of her hands! The heights of Pu-yé
were enchanted--and the Ancient Star had shone on her with kindness.
It was a good time in her life and she must work in quickness ere the
change came, for the watchful gods of the sky do not stand still when
the signs are good signs.

And she crept back to the arms of her lover, and they watched together
the medicine shadow woman creep downward until the dark hid her.

Yahn counseled that at once they go to the governor and tell that
which they heard, but Ka-yema said "no," for if the Navahu enemy did
come, the power of Tahn-té was needed by the Te-hua warriors--it was
not the time to kill the witch woman or kill the prayer thoughts.

"You are strong to fight without Tahn-té," whispered the girl who made
herself as a vine in her clinging clasp of him.

"But not to fight against Tahn-té and his secret powers of the sky,"
answered Ka-yemo. "The old men know he is strong in visions. When the
time comes that he fall low in their sight, there will be many days
that their hearts will be sick. We must not make these days come when
we have enemies to fight."

"Do you fear?" demanded the temptress petulantly. It irked her that
his first thought was of caution--while hers was of annihilation for
the man who loomed so large that no other man could be seen in the
land.

"If you think I fear would you find me here in this witch place with
you?" he asked. "It has been forbidden that any one comes here--yet
have I come!"

Plainly he felt brave that he had defied the Po-Ahtun-ho in so much as
he had walked to the forbidden sacred places, and Yahn felt a storm of
rage sweep over her at the knowledge. But it had been a storm of rage
like that by which he had once been driven away from her! And she
smothered all the words she would have spoken, and clung to him, and
whispered of his greatness,--and the pride he could bring to the clan
when Tahn-té, the lover of witches, no longer made laws in the land.

In her own heart she was making prayers that the alarm of the Navahu
warriors prove a false thing, and the vision of Tahn-té be laughed at
by the clans. To hear him laughed at would help much!

But that was not to be, for ere the dawn broke, came shouts from
Shufinne--and signal fires, and the Te-hua men of Pu-yé ran swiftly to
guide their Castilian brothers in arms, and the savages who had hoped
to steal women in the darkness, found that thunder and lightning and
death fought for the Te-hua people--and the men of iron rode them down
with the charméd animals and strange battle cries.

When the daylight came there were dead Navahu on the field south of
Shufinne--the flower of the shields had bloom! Two dead Te-hua men
were also there, and a wounded Navahu had been taken captive by Juan
Gonzalvo. Ka-yemo carried two fresh scalps, and Don Ruy lay huddled in
a little arroyo, where a lance thrust had struck him reeling from the
saddle, and Tahn-té had leaped forward to grapple with the Navahu who,
hidden on the edge of the steep bank, waited the coming of the
horseman and lunged at him as head and shoulders came above the
level.

Where the breastplate ends at the throat he struck, and the blade of
volcanic glass cut through the flesh. At the savage yell of triumph
the horse swerved--stumbled, and with a clatter of metals rolled down
the embankment.

As the Navahu rushed downward with lifted axe and eager scalping
knife, an arrow from the bow of Tahn-té pierced the temple of the
savage, and with a grunt he whirled and fell dead beside the
Castilian.

The horse had quickly regained his feet, but the rider lay still, the
blood pulsing from his throat and staining the yellow sand. With
dextrous fingers Tahn-té removed the helmet and breastplate that the
position of the body might be eased. With sinew of deer from his
pouch, and a bone awl of needle-like sharpness, he drew together the
edges of the wound, then turning to where the Navahu lay prone on his
face in the sand, he deftly cut a strip of the brown skin a finger's
width across, and in length from shoulder to girdle; this he took from
the yet warm body as he would take the bark from a willow tree, and
bound it about the throat with the flesh side to the wound.

"Take my horse and follow," whispered Don Ruy, who had recovered
breath and speech,--"I am not yet so dead that I need the grave
digger--you can ride--take my horse and follow."

Tahn-té had leaped to the saddle, when a cry at the edge of the arroyo
caused him to halt, it was so pitiful a cry, and tumbling down through
the sand and gravel came Master Chico with staring eyes of fear, and
lips that were pale and quivering. The flayed back of the savage had
he caught sight of, and the white face of Don Ruy who looked dead
enough for masses despite his own assertion to the contrary, and the
lad flung himself on his excellency with a wail that was far from that
of a warrior, and then slipped silently into unconsciousness.

With the thought that a death wound had struck the lad who had come
to die with his master, Tahn-té turned the face back until the head
rested on the arm of the Castilian, lightly he ran his hands over the
body, and then halted, his eyes on the face of Don Ruy, who gazed
strangely at the white face on his arm. The cap was gone, the eyes
were closed, and the open lips showed the white teeth. In every way
the face was more childish than it had ever appeared to him--childish
and something more--something--

Then Tahn-té, who held the wrist of Chico, laid it gently on the hand
of Don Ruy.

"Only into the twilight land has she gone, Señor," he said softly--"even
now the heart beats on the trail to come back--to you!"

Don Ruy stared incredulously into the eyes of the Indian, and a flush
crept over his own pale face as he remembered many things.

"Doña Bradamante!" he murmured, and nodded to Tahn-té, who leaped on
the horse and rode where the yells of the victors sounded in the
piñons towards the hills. Beyond all the other horsemen he rode, and
saw far above in the scrubby growth, the enemy seeking footholds where
the four-footed animals could not follow. Then, when Ka-yemo had
called the names of the trailers who were to follow the enemy beyond
the summit, Tahn-té the Po-Athun-ho turned back and chanted the prayer
of a prophet to whom the god had sent true dreams.

The Castilians watched him as he came; so proudly did he carry himself
that the men swore an army of such horsemen would win half the battle
by merely showing themselves, and the old men of Te-hua knew as they
looked on him, and as they counted the slain and wounded, that Tahn-té
had indeed been given the gift of the god-sight to save the women of
the valley.

Juan Gonzalvo swore ugly oaths at sight of the horse of Don Ruy. Since
the pagan had taken it as his own, it was plain to be seen that some
woeful thing had chanced to his excellency.

But to their many questions Tahn-té led them to the arroyo where Don
Ruy was indeed wounded, and where a pale secretary was carrying water
in his hat to bathe his excellency's head, and his excellency let it
be done, and exchanged a long look of silence with Tahn-té, who
understood.

The ankle of Don Ruy had a twist making it of no use to stand upon.
The Po-Ahtun-ho made a gesture to Chico to hold the horse while he,
with a soldier to help, put it straight with a dextrous wrench, and
the secretary several paces away, turned white at the pain of it.

Then was his excellency helped again to his saddle, and the men from
Mexico marvelled at the surgery of the pagan priest who killed and
flayed one man to mend another with.




CHAPTER XIX

THE APACHE DEATH TRAP


When the runners carried the word to the river that the vision of
Tahn-té had been a true vision, the padre and Don Diego stared at each
other incredulous. It was a thing not to be believed by a Christian.
Yet the runners said that many Navahu scalps and two dead Te-hua men
witnessed the truth of it, and the men of iron had proven indeed
brothers in the time of battle. The governor made thanks to Don Ruy,
who was wounded, and his Excellency had sent the secretary back to
camp with Ysobel since there was not anything new to record. The
Te-hua men would dance the scalp dance when they came to the village,
and two clans mourned for men left dead on the mesa meadows.

The padre regretted that he had not gone with the troop. Since they
had won honor and thanks, it was the good time to work for the one
favor of the gold in return.

And Don Diego regretted the Te-hua men who had died without
absolution.

The secretary stated that the clans of the dead men were clamoring for
the Navahu captive taken by Gonzalvo, and there was much talk about
it. Also that the Navahu said it was one maid they came searching
for--a Navahu maid who wore bluebird wings--they had not thought to
harm Te-hua women! Of course the Te-hua men thought that was a lie,
for the Navahu always wanted more women.

But the old men of the village to whom it was told looked at each
other with meaning.

It was a strange thing that the men of Te-gat-ha to the north, and the
men of Navahu from the west, took the trail to search for that one
maid of mystery. The ground over which she passed had reached far, and
the evil wrought by her had been great. The wise men of Te-gat-ha knew
that the tornado followed her trail, and the Navahu men who searched
for her, had found death and defeat. Prayers must be made against the
evil of her if her feet should cross the land of the Te-hua people.

And all through the long beautiful twilight the tombé sounded from the
terraces, and the mourners for the dead on the high mesas knew that
prayers were being made against new evil--and that the medicine men
would in an early day demand penance and sacrifice of many if the
cloud of dread was not lifted from their hearts.

Four days of purification must be observed by the warriors ere
entering again their home village after a battle to the death. And
Yahn could not by any means approach Ka-yemo during that time, which
did not prevent her speech with other men. To Juan Gonzalvo she
talked, and Gonzalvo chafed under the restrictions of Don Ruy.
Steadily in his mind had grown that thought of the parentage of
Tahn-té. He was unwilling to think that the native mind could have the
keenness and the logic of this barbarian whose eyes were the color of
the darkest blue violets, and whose diabolic power made even the
Castilians awe-struck, and sent them to prayers more swiftly than did
the sermons of the padre. If he only dared hint it to the padre--if
by some god-given power he, the insolent Cacique, could be delivered
into their hands--if as the son of Teo the Greek, he could come within
the law of the Inquisition for his devilish heresies--the all too
lenient Inquisition demanded white blood in its victims--what a
triumph it would be for the Faith to add the sorcerer to the list! For
such a triumph would Gonzalvo have been willing to tread with bared
feet all the sands of the trail to Mexico.

With such pious intent did he question much of Yahn, who knew
little--and was indeed afraid when the medicine god woman was asked
of. She had seen that which had come to the outcast of Na-im-be who
would have told tribal things, and she had no wish to grow dumb, or
blind, or a trembling wreck in the time of one sun across the sky.

But she did go with him to the place of the well in the sand at
Shufinne at the time when the Twilight Woman went for water. He waited
there and drew for her the water, and watched closely her face as he
spoke a Castilian word of greeting. If he had hope that she had ever
before heard such words his hopes were fruitless. She was so
indifferent to his presence that not even once did she lift her eyes
from the water jar or look in his face, and the fragile figure turned
from him and walked away as if Castilian warriors were seen daily on
the path to that well.

Yahn knew that all the other women wished greatly to be let go down to
the village that they might see and be spoken to by the great
strangers, and she hid in the brush to watch the medicine god woman
and even won courage to ask of her who had filled the water jar so
quickly.

"Was it not then the stranger who is your lover, Yahn Tsyn-deh?" asked
the other, not as one who cares, but as one who states a fact--"the
man whom you give love to in these new days."

"Who says I give love?" demanded Yahn. "Säh-pah the liar, or Koh-pé,
who knows not anything!"

"You walk together alone as lovers walk. The other women do not think
they lie."

"They are fools--the other women!" stated Yahn--"also they are liars.
They are glad if a man of the beard looks the way they are,--they
would make a trail to follow if the men of iron whistled them,--they
would be proud to make their own men ashamed--they!"

For the first time the older woman looked in the face of the girl with
intentness, as though suddenly aroused to interest in the human drama
about her, and the actors in it.

"Then you would not follow, Yahn Tsyn-deh?" she asked. "The others say
you laugh at the men of the tribe and give love to the strangers--they
say you pass Ka-yemo on the trail and your eyes never see him any more
because of the men of iron who give you gifts!"

"A jealous woman says that!" stormed Yahn Tsyn-deh,--"a woman who
maybe lies to him when he will listen! You see this:"--and she picked
up a black water worn pebble with a vein of white through the heart of
it--"Sometime when the Earth Mother was beginning with the work, these
two were maybe not together like this. They were apart--maybe it was
before the ice went from around our world and the mountains sent fire
to split the rocks. Look you now--you are wise, but maybe you do not
know how this is, for you go into shadow lands, and men and women, and
the stones over which your feet walk, are all the same to you--also
the love of a man and a woman are not anything to your thoughts!"

The other looked at her, and beyond her, and said nothing. The words
of Yahn were words of angry insistence on the thought she had never
yet been able to express--and to say it to even the god medicine woman
who sheltered a witch, was to speak it aloud, and have it forgotten!

"You are wise in medicine craft but do you know how this grew?"--she
demanded--"I know--I feel that _I know_!--the mountain fire or the sky
fire broke it that the white stone of fire could be shot like an arrow
into the heart of it. To keep some count it was made like that by the
Most Mysterious;--and in the hand of the Mystery it was held--and the
hand was closed over it while the mountains came down to the rivers,
and the rivers made trails through rock walls. When the hand was
opened and the sun looked on it, it was grown into one;--can you with
all high medicine put them apart?--can you break the black and leave
the white not broke? Can you make two colors of the powder you would
grind from it between grinding stones?--Yet the two colors are there!
Like the two colors are Ka-yemo and Yahn Tsyn-deh. One they were made
by some magic of the Great Mystery, and no woman and no man, and no
lies of women, can break them apart! When you hear them lie another
time, you can look at this stone, and know that I said it!"

She had worked herself into such a passion that the long smothered
rage against the women who spoke her name lightly in the village spent
itself on the one woman of all who lived most apart from such speech.
But aloud had Yahn Tsyn-deh said once for all that her life was as the
life of Ka-yemo, and that no earth creature could make that different,
and for the saying of it aloud she was a happier woman.

And Gonzalvo who listened to her defiance, fancied that the silent
woman of mystery had given her chiding, and that Yahn was doing wordy
battle for the new Castilian friends.

All the more could he think so when Yahn joined him with her great
eyes shining like stars, and braided in her hair some flowers he had
plucked for her--and walked back to the camp with him openly before
all men!

And she said to him;--"I like only men who fight,--men who are not
afraid. Tell your priest who does not like me that now is the time to
speak again to the council of the sun symbol and of brothers. The old
men have seen that your fighting was good, and that it saved them
their women. This will be the time to speak."

"But their proud Cacique--"

"It is a good time to speak--" she insisted--"else will Tahn-té grow
so tall with prophecies that his shadow will cover the land, and the
men in the land,--tell your priest that the shadow has grown too tall
now for one man. Other men have fought well and taken scalps--yet only
one name is heard in your camp--the name of Tahn-té who sees visions
in the hills!"

He wondered at her mocking tone of the visions in the hills, for no
other Indian mocked at the visions of the sorcerer.

Don Ruy was well agreed to get back to the fair camp by the river, and
so pleased with them were their new comrades in arms, that he was
amused to see more than one dame of the village trudging homewards
across the mesa:--they forgot to doubt the new allies who had helped
send the Navahu running to the hills. When he reached Povi-whah he
rallied Chico that he kept close to the camp and found so many
remembered records to put safely down the "Relaciones," when there
were more than a few pairs of strange dark eyes peeping from the
terraces.

But Chico had quite lost the swagger of the adventurous youth since he
tumbled down the arroyo bank almost on top of the flayed savage. The
fainting fit need not have caused him so much of shyness, since his
Excellency had also apparently indulged in the same weakness;--for
Chico on awaking had carried two hats full of water and drenched his
highness completely ere he had opened his eyes and again looked on the
world. However, without doubt that fainting fit of Master Chico's had
taken away a fine lot of self confidence, for ink-horn and paper gave
all the excitement he craved. His audacity was gone, and so meek and
lowly was his spirit, that Don Diego had much pleasure in the thought
that the vocation of the lad was plainly the church, and that sight of
the dead, unconfessed barbarians, had awakened his conscience as to
human duties for the Faith.

This interesting fact he made mention of to Don Ruy, who bade him god
speed in making missionaries out of unexpected material,--and got more
amusement out of the idea than one would expect, and Don Diego hinted
that it was unseemly to jest at serious matters of the saving of souls
when his own had stood so good a chance at escape through the hole in
his neck.

"It may be that I found a soul through that same wound," said Don
Ruy, "at least I gained enough to make amends for the scar to be left
by the wicked lance."

"It is true that the knowledge gained of their savage surgery is a
thing of import for the 'Relaciones,'" agreed Don Diego,--"but only
the infidel Cacique made practice of it, and his acts are scarcely the
kind to bring a blessing on any work--I have been put to it to decide
how little space to give his name in these pages. It is not a seemly
thing that the most wicked should be the most exalted in the
chronicles of our travels."

"Whether exalted or not he must be again considered in this quest of
the gold," stated Padre Vicente, "Gonzalvo brings me word that more
than one of the tribe would have joy in his downfall, and that it is
the good time to talk with the head men openly on this question. Our
men have helped fight their battles:--thus matters have changed for
us. Many of the women are allowed to come home--they perceive we are
as brothers and are not afraid."

"They also perceive that we have a Navahu war captive whom they desire
exceedingly for use on the altar of the Mesa of the Hearts,"--observed
Don Ruy. "They are much disturbed for lack of a sacrifice these days.
They say the Ancient Star will send earth troubles until such
sacrifice is made, some of the clans must donate a member unless the
gods send a substitute--their preference is for a young and comely
youth or maiden. They plainly hinted to Gonzalvo that the Navahu has
been given into our hands by the gods for that purpose."

Don Diego was emphatic in his horror, but the padre explained that
from the heathen point of view it was not so cruel as might be
thought. When the savages went to war they prepared themselves for
such fate if captured. More:--the death was not torture. The
ceremonies were religious according to the pagan idea--chants and
prayers and garlands of flowers and sacred pine were a part of the
ritual. The blade of sacrifice must be sharp, and the heart removed
from the victim quickly and held to the sun or the star behind which
the angry god waited. When it was a sacrifice of much high import, it
was made on the Mesa of the Hearts, and in remembrance a heart shaped
stone was always left near the shrine by one of the secondary
priests:--for that reason one could find many heart shaped stones,
large and small on that mesa. When a medicine man found one, even in a
far hunting ground, he brought it home for that purpose.

"And the body of the victim?" asked Don Ruy--"I have been on that mesa
and seen no bones--what becomes of it?"

"If it is trouble of floods or storm or drouth, the victim is thrown
to the god of the river below. On the mesa to the west is an ancient
circle of stones with the entrance to the east. The ordinary sacrifice
is made there for good crops, and the body is divided until each clan
may have at least a portion which he consumes with many prayers."

Don Diego confessed that such ritual sat ill upon even a healthy
stomach, for his own part the open air seemed good and desirable, and
he was of a mind to return whence they had come, rather than risk
longer unauthorized visits among such smiling soft voiced savages.
Since his eminence had learned thus much of their horrors, who was to
know how many might be left untold?--or how soon the tribes might
have a mind to circle the camp and offer every mother's son of the
Christians on some such devilish altar?

Even while he spoke a curious shock ran through the men, and they
stared at each other in amaze and question. Plainly the floor had
lifted under their feet as though some demon of the Underworld had
heaved himself upward in turning over in his sleep.

Screams and loud cries were heard from the terraces, men came tumbling
up the ladders from the kivas, and Master Chico let fall a slender
treasured volume of Señor Ariosto's romances and ran, white faced and
breathless to Don Ruy, who caught and held him while the world swayed
about them.

In truth he did not even release him so quickly as might be after the
tremor had passed, but no man had time or humor to note the care with
which he held the secretary, or that it was the lad himself who drew,
flushing red, from the embrace of very strong arms.

"I--I feared you might not know--I came to tell you--" was the lame
explanation to which Don Ruy listened, and smiled while he listened.

"I wonder what 'Doña Bradamante' would have done in all her bravery of
white armor if such an earth wave had shaken her tilting court?" he
asked, but the secretary did not know, and with face still flushed,
and eyes on the ground, went to seek Yahn Tsyn-deh to hear if this was
a usual thing that walls lifted in wavy lines--and that chimneys
toppled from Te-hua dwellings.

The old people said it was long since the earth had shaken itself, and
they watched closely the Mesa of the Hearts, and the mesa of the
god-maid face, and a mountain over towards Te-gat-ha. If the anger of
the earth was great against earth people, then smoke would come from
certain earth breathing places,--and the sentinels kept watch--and the
old men watched also.

And around the village went a murmur of dire import--for it was plain
that the Great Mystery was sending many signs to the Te-hua
people;--the altars had been too long empty!

A strange foreboding filled the air, and the Castilians gathered in
little groups and talked. To send the Navahu captive to his death at
the hands of the tribe was not to their fancy, but if a member of a
Te-hua clan must be offered up, who could tell what vengeance that
clan might not take on the strangers?

Padre Vicente looked over all, and listened to much, and then talked
to the governor:--was it not the time to take strong brothers that
they share both the evil and the good together?

"The gods are certainly not well pleased with us, we make offerings
and we make prayers--and the only good they let come to us has been
our brothers of the iron and thunder and the fire sticks," said
Phen-tzah. "Yes, I think it is the time to take brothers of a strong
god."

This was the word of the governor and it was the strongest word yet
given for union. But the governor made it plain that he did not belong
to the order holding secret of the sun symbol. The Po-Athun were the
people who must decide these spirit things. He thought the hearts of
the old men of that order were kind and soft for the strangers,
but--the head of that order was Tahn-té, the Po-Athun-ho!

This gave pause for thought, every man who chose to go contrary to the
will of Tahn-té, found himself well nigh helpless in the Indian land,
his infernal gods were so strong that the Castilians were none too
eager to flout them, only Yahn Tsyn-deh seeing the crisis of things,
crept to Juan Gonzalvo and whispered,

"You hate the Po-Athun-ho--and you say love words to me. You think you
want me?"

Juan Gonzalvo was a blunt soldier who had never before been kept at
the distance of Tantalus by an Indian girl who took his gifts. On her
brown neck a silver necklace of his shone richly, and in her
braided hair corals of the sea gleamed red. While others had fled to
the altars for prayers,--and sprinkled sacred pollen to the
Go-hé-yahs--the mediators between earth and spirit world--Yahn had
bathed in the river and made herself beautiful with Castilian gifts
and barbaric trinketry.

To the man who measured her with eager eyes, she looked beautiful as
the Te-hua goddess of whom she had told him--Ta-ah-quea who brings the
Spring.

He told her so while he devoured her with his glances.

"Good!" she said. "You give me love, and you hate the Po-Athun-ho. You
can have us both if your heart is brave this night."

His arms would have clasped her for that promise, but she eluded him
and laughed.

"Your Don Ruy tells you the Po-Athun-ho must have no harm," she
whispered, "but is there not among your men, one, maybe even three
soldiers who are master of the bow,--and can destroy in silence?"

Gonzalvo was himself a master bowman--and had some pride in knowing
it, also he could if need be, pick men of his company who had skill,
and could be trusted.

"Could you send these men as if to hunt or to fish,--could you have
them find the way past the Te-hua sentinels to the place where they
camped in the pines?" and she made a gesture towards Pu-yé. "Could you
secretly find your way there in the dark before the Mother Moon looks
full on the face of the earth?"

"I can do this--and I can do more than this."

"Can you win for your people the good heart of the council that they
show you the sun symbol?" she asked. "Only Tahn-té closes the door to
you, and they fear Tahn-té. Tell me why your hate of him is strong."

"His father was the Devil. Through the devil soul he learns magic
things."

"Good! You hear the wise men tell of a maid of evil who brought the
tornado and the battle--and now brings this shake of the world?"

"The witch maid," and Gonzalvo crossed himself--"Yes--the men speak of
her in whispers--and the Indians say a sacrifice must be made."

"It must be made," said Yahn Tsyn-deh, and her white teeth shut tight
in decision. "Maybe it happens that you can make it, and win the
council--how then?"

"I--make the sacrifice--I?"

"Not where the altar is," soothed Yahn as he recoiled from the
thought. "But listen you!--maybe I dream--but listen!--maybe the witch
maid is a human thing with the heart of magic like Tahn-té,--maybe I
can find them together for you in the sacred place of the stars in
Pu-yé. Maybe the spirit of Tahn-té has been traded into her keeping,
and with the double strength of evil she will destroy the earth in
this place. The stars say so;--a great evil is coming! The medicine
men see it in the sacred vessels of water and in the clear stone of
the ancient prophets--they say so! You are a brave heart--you can save
these people and win the gold secret from the council. If you want
Yahn Tsyn-deh for love you will do this thing!"

[Illustration: SHE LED HIM UP THE ANCIENT STAIRWAY _Page 295_]

Gonzalvo stared at her incredulous, she was crediting him with a power
that would place him high in the Castilian camp--if he could win! And
more--she was to give him her own intense, glowing, restless self!

"I also hate Tahn-té,--that is why!" she said frankly, "and I love
only men who are brave above all other men. Your fire sticks of
thunder must not be heard on the heights of Pu-yé, but when Tahn-té
and the witch meet there in the night, your arrows must send them
together to the Afterworld--not one alone--but _together_! When the
men of Te-hua find the dead witch (for the men of Te-gat-ha and the
Navahu can witness that it is the one!) and when they find the lion
robe of Tahn-té on her body,--and other gifts of Tahn-té--and find
them dead the one beside the other, then the man who has made this
happen will be a great man! Even the men of Te-gat-ha will come with
gifts, and the men of Te-hua will give you honor, and will open the
trail for you to the sun symbol. There will be no Tahn-té to put evil
magic on them for doing so! When he is found dead with the witch maid
they will see clearly that his magic was evil magic, and they will
have breath that is deep and free again. Also I--Yahn Tsyn-deh--will
walk beside you where you choose."

Low and rapid was her speech there in the shadow of the adobe
wall--and so fair was the dream she made clear for him, that he felt
himself grow dazed with the glory of it--yet he was a strong man!

If it was true that Tahn-té and the witch nested together in the ruins
of Pu-yé, he knew well that the day of the young Ruler was ended in
Povi-whah, or in any Te-hua council where it was known. But the
strange mental or spiritual power of Tahn-té made it a thing of danger
to let him live after accusal had been made. The way of Yahn seemed
the best of all ways. If he was found dead beside the maid accursed,
the evidence would be clear against him--and the True Faith would have
the credit for such extermination!

He knew this was not a thing to speak of to Don Ruy--and though the
padre was enemy to every thought of Tahn-té--he feared even the
padre--that strange man who knew so much that was hidden in Indian
life, would so clearly see that Yahn Tsyn-deh was as much the motive
as gain of the gold, or glory for Mother Church.

No,--it was a thing to think out alone.

Yahn pressed his hand furtively and smiled on him as he left her, and
then entered her own dwelling and sprinkled prayer meal to the spirits
who carry messages to the gods.

Then she sent a child for Ka-yemo and gave the child some dried
peaches that he be content to stay with his fellows in the sunshine
and eat them.

Ka-yemo entered her dwelling for the first time in many moons and
clasped her close, and then seated himself in the farthest corner from
the Apache god pictures while Yahn Tsyn-deh talked.

Her voice was low, and often she went to the opening to see that no
one listened, and Ka-yemo was wonder-struck at the greatness of the
thing she whispered.

"You have won scalps in this battle--you have led the men in the scalp
dance, and the people know you are strong. If Tahn-té went out of the
world now, at this time, you would be strongest. This is the time he
must go!"

"But if the vengeance of the Castilians came heavy?"

"It will not come heavy. Don Ruy has forbidden Gonzalvo even to speak
words against Tahn-té to the padre. So it is that he would be angry if
Gonzalvo sent arrows into the Po-Ahtun-ho. _You_ must not do it, for
his magic power might come heavy on your head. If you fear to destroy
the Castilian capitan you are foolish in your thought--for it need
never be known. Look!--here are arrows of the Navahu, from the place
of battle I gathered many, these are the arrows for the work. Let
Gonzalvo risk the magic of Tahn-té, and the magic of the witch maid,
and destroy them, then you must alone, trail the Castilian, that he
comes not back alive to tell how it was done! The Navahu arrows will
take the blame from your head--it will be plain that some Navahu men
stayed to take pay for their dead! So it will be, and you, Ka-yemo,
will stand high, and your clan will be proud that no man stands more
high. And I--Yahn--will be with you each step of the life trail--and
each step we dare look down on all others and be proud. The songs you
sing can be proud songs!"

The blood of Ka-yemo jumped in his veins at that picture of victory as
drawn by Yahn Tsyn-deh. Now, since she had asked him to destroy Juan
Gonzalvo was he at last content in the thought that her love had not
wandered from him, Ka-yemo! Even in the days of silence and anger had
he held her spirit;--and to do that with a woman is proof that a man
is strong! It made him feel there in the dwelling of Yahn the Apache,
that he could do battle in the open for her with the Castilian capitan
if need be and have no fear;--how much more then would he dare do the
work to be done in secret on the heights!

Thus did Yahn Tsyn-deh spin her web that Tahn-té and the maid of the
forest be caught in its meshes, and it seemed good to her that the men
of iron be killed when chance offered;--especially must the Castilian
capitan not be let live to tell the clan of Tahn-té aught of how the
plan was made;--and above all had she spoken truth to the Woman of the
Twilight by the path to the well:--her life was as the life of
Ka-yemo;--if the Castilian escaped and dared claim the price she
offered--!

At that thought Yahn felt for the knife in her girdle, and had joy
that the edge of it was keen as the steel of the Castilians, and her
smile was a threat as she almost felt her hand thrust and twist it in
the flesh of the man of iron who had dared think himself the equal of
Ka-yemo!

Some savage creatures of the wilderness there are who choose their
mates, and stand, to live or to die, against all foes who would break
the bond. The tigress will watch her mate do battle for her and then
follow his conqueror,--but Yahn Tsyn-deh had not even so much as that
meekness of the tiger in her;--her own share of the battle would she
fight that the mate she chose should remain unconquered. Proud she was
of his beauty and of his grace in the scalp dance,--but more proud
would she be when no serene young Po-Athun-ho looked at her lover as
if from a high place of thought. It was, strangely enough, the
_unspoken_ in Tahn-té against which she rebelled in bitterness. No
word that was not gentle had he ever spoken to her--and to Ka-yemo no
word that lacked dignity. It was as if the man in his thoughts was
enthroned on the clouds:--and at last she had found the way for that
cloud to be dragged low in the dust!




CHAPTER XX

THE CHOICE OF YAHN TSYN-DEH


And while Yahn Tsyn-deh laid the trap, and the medicine drums sounded,
and the women gathered the children close because of the trembling
earth, one girl robed in the skin of a mountain lion waited alone at
the portal of the star, and knelt in the shadow, and looked with eyes
of fear at the great pieces of severed cliff, or ancient wall sent
crashing downwards by the force of the earth shock.

Past her portal they had crashed until it seemed the roof must fall
also, and she gathered the robe of Tahn-té about her, and came as far
as might be into the open--and watched with longing eyes the trail
across the mesa to the great river!--for that trail was as the path of
the sun to her,--or the rainbow in the sky!

The feet of Tahn-té had touched that trail, and when the night came,
and the moon rose in the great circle over the eastern hills--over
that trail would he come, and though the mountains themselves crashed
downwards to the mesa, he would hold her close, and the very spirits
of darkness could send no more fear!

She kept very still there waiting at the portal, for strange noises
were heard on the mesa, a dislodged stone rumbling down the long
slope--or a bit of loose clay falling from the ancient walls. At times
the smaller sounds suggested passing feet--and above all things must
she remain hidden from people until he came for her--he--the god-like
one who had brought her to this dwelling so akin to the dwellings of
the Divine Ones of the Navahu land in the place called Tsé-ye. The
difference was that the Tsé-ye dwellings were deep in the heart of the
world--while these dwellings were lifted high above the world.

But she knew without words that he indeed belonged to the Divine Ones
ere he brought her to the ancient dwellings. That her name had been in
his heart, and on his lips before she herself had told him, was but a
part of the strange sweet magic of the new life into which he had led
her.

Through the storms--and the dark nights--and the long days of
loneliness had she lived since he had hidden her first from the scouts
of Te-gat-ha--but they had passed over her as dreams of sweetness
pass.--That the groves of pine, or the mesa of the river, hid him from
her sight, did not mean to her that he had quite gone away, the
wonderful magic wrought by him made it possible for her to feel his
arms about her even when she lay alone in the darkness of the dwelling
of the star. To be hidden like that, and to watch for his coming, was
to be granted much joy by the gods. That the gods exact payment for
all joys more than mortal, was one secret Tahn-té did not whisper to
her, though the thought had clouded his own eyes more than once as he
clasped her close to him.

What the gods would exact he did not know, but daily and nightly he
made prayers to the mediators of the spirit land, and hoped in his
heart that the god of his people prove not akin to the jealous god of
the men of iron;--for a jealous god would, without doubt, take her
from him! Against men he could protect her--but if the gods awoke--and
were jealous--

And he remembered the fastings, and the penance, and the prayers by
which he had, unknown to all others, dedicated his life to the gods
alone!

But of this he said no word--only held her more close in his
thoughts--but ever a gray shadow moved beside him--the shadow of an
unknown fear--and it was the same shadow by which he had been led to
count over the seeds of the sacred growth--that he be sure it was in
his power to make the death sleep beautiful to her, if the death sleep
should shorten their trail together in the Earth Life.

She knew nothing of his fear, and watched each lengthening shadow with
delight--since the growing shadows were heralds of his coming! Even
the trembling of the earth was forgotten in that joy--and she scarcely
noted that the air had grown strangely sultry--almost a thing of
weight it seemed;--a brooding, waiting spirit, silencing even the
whisper of the pines--and the whisper of the pine was sacred music to
the Te-hua people;--through all the ages it had whispered, until in a
good hour it had given voice to their earth-born god!

She knew not anything of the gods of her own people, and the ominous
silence of the pines meant not to her what they would mean to a girl
of the river villages. But the magic of the place did make itself felt
to her when her robe, as she touched it, sent out little snappings as
of fireflies' wings, and far across the land tiny flashes flamed from
earth to sky as the dusk grew. When she shook loose her hair that she
might arrange it more pleasing for his sight, she was startled by the
tiny crackling, like finest of twigs in a blaze--and to smooth it
into braids silenced none of the strange magic;--each time her hand
touched it, the little sparks flashed--under the heavy brooding
atmosphere, electric forces were at work in strange ways--and on the
heights of Pu-yé they have for ages been proof of the magic in those
mountains.

Therefore is it a place for prayer.

Startled by the strange earth breathings, the girl crept within the
portal for her waiting--and the dusk was too deep for sight across the
rolling land of ancient field, and piñon wood far below.

Had she kept the watch she might have seen more than one figure
approach the heights from different ways--only a glimpse could be had,
but through the dusk of piñon groves certainly two figures moved
together, a man and a woman, and even before them one man stole alone
from the south, and halted often as if to plan the better way of
approach.

The man and woman skirted the foot of the mesa, and crept upward on
the side to the north.

"It is the hard way to climb you have come," said the man, and the
strange heavy air caused them to stop for breath, and as she reached
to cling to the hand of the man, he drew back with a gasp of terror.
As their hands touched, a little electric shock ran through each,--it
was plain they had reached the domain where the witch of evil powers
held sway.

"It is not I whom you need fear," said Yahn Tsyn-deh,--"it is the
witch maid of Tahn-té, and we have come to see the killing."

"And if--if Gonzalvo grows weak on the trail--or if his men take fear
from this evil magic of the mesa of Pu-yé?"

"No other men come with him--we talked--we two! Alone he will do
it:--for me!" she said proudly. "He knows the strong bow, with it he
will send the arrow first to the man,--that will be when they stand
clear in the moonlight. Then to the witch:--that all people may see
they were near to each other. The arrows are good and the bow is good.
I saw that it was so;--also I saw that no man of our people can use it
better than can Gonzalvo. By the river I watched him. He needs no fire
sticks to find the heart of an enemy--alone he can do it with an
arrow."

Ka-yemo looked at her sullenly,--she was giving much of praise to the
man she would have him destroy!

"How are you sure that he does not bring the thunder and lightning
stick also?" he demanded,--"and how are you sure that it is not used
for me?"

"Oh--fool you!--who make fears out of shadows--yet are so big to
fight!" she breathed softly. "Why is it that the Navahu or the other
wild people do not make you fear--yet the Castilians--"

"They are truly men of iron. As a boy I saw the things they could do,"
he answered.--"Not as men do I fear them, but it is their strong god
who tames their beasts."

"Your arrows are good," said Yahn Tsyn-deh with conviction,--"when you
see him dead as other men die, you will know that our own gods are
also strong."

The dark had fallen heavily, and only the Ancient Star gleamed
threatening as it waited for the moon. The smaller stars were not seen
and the shadows were very dense.

Because of this a strange thing came to them as they reached the
summit. Strong as was the heart of Yahn the Apache, she was struck by
terror, and Ka-yemo knew that the great god of the men of iron had
sent a threat for his eyes to see.

For, still and erect against a dark wall of the Lost Others, stood a
man outlined in fire. In Castilian war dress he stood, and little
flickering lines of fire ran along helmet and breastplate and lance.
No face could they see of the horror, which added to, rather than
lessened the terror of Ka-yemo. A living face he could meet and
fight--but this burning ghost of a man not yet dead--!

He turned and stumbled downward blindly, and Yahn Tsyn-deh clung to
him and gripped his hand cruelly for silence, and when they sank at
last beside a great boulder, her arms were around him, as though that
clasp kept the solid world from crumbling beneath her feet.

"No--no--no!" muttered Ka-yemo as though she had actually uttered
words of persuasion,--"it is what their padre said long ago. Their
strong god has an army of saints, and of angels,--they stand
guard;--all who go against them are swept into the flames of their
Underworld! It is what the Padre Luis said--and now it has been seen
by my eyes! Their altars are the stronger altars,--we will go
there--we will both go;--the fire of their hell will not reach us at
their altar--the medicine prayers of their padre are strong
prayers--we will go to him--"

The old fear of his boyhood had enveloped him as the unchained
electric force had enveloped the heights. Yahn Tsyn-deh put up her
hand to her throat;--she felt herself strangle for breath as she
listened.

"It was some trick!" she insisted--though she also had trembled with
awe--"Listen to me!--they have many tricks--these white men! Because
of a trick will you go to their altars, and be shamed in your clan?
Their priest is the head of all things--will you follow the steps of
another when you can wear the feathers of a leader? Will you be
laughed at by the tribe? Hear--oh hear!--and let your heart listen!
Never again will the gods send you this chance to be great--this is
your day and your night!"

"Their devils keep guard--the flames of their hell no man can fight!"

"Ka-yemo!--I am holding you close--I give myself to you!--one arrow
only must you send when the witch maid is killed, and Tahn-té is
killed,--one arrow, and forever you are the highest, and I am your
slave to give you love! Ka-yemo!"

The light of the moon was sending a glow above Na-im-be mountains. The
moon itself was not yet seen, but enough light was on the mesa for the
pleading girl to see the face of the man she adored.

The face was averted and turned from her. In terror he bent the arrow
shafts across his knee, and flung the bow far down into the shadows.

"_Ka-yemo!_"--she moaned as the last vestige of her idol was destroyed
by his own hand;--"do you give me then to the Castilian? Must _I_ pay
the debt?"

"Against the gods of their hell I will not send arrows," he
muttered--"He may not claim you--the sign sent to me here is a strong
sign--a god of fire is a strong god--and I am only a man! It may be
that if we go to their padre--and if we confess--"

She could see that he was blindly groping in his mind for some
chance--some little chance, to be forgiven--to be forgiven by the
Castilians whose feet would be on his neck--and on hers!

It was his day and his night, and he had thrown it away! Never again
could the day dawn in joy for those two.

She drew him to her as the light grew, and looked in the face she had
loved from babyhood. It was a long look, and a strange one. She was
thinking of the archer above them who waited to send death to a man
and a maid!

"What is it?" he asked as her fingers slipped from his shoulder along
his arm and clasped his hand with the closeness, the firmness of
settled resolve.

"It is that you have chosen," she said quietly. "It is the right of
the man to choose;--and it will be well. It is the right of the woman
to follow: and before the moon comes again from the blanket of the
east we will know--and the gods will know, that the choice is a good
choice!"

She held his hand and led him upwards;--steadily, yet without haste.
The edge of the moon showed red, and the moon was to be clear of the
mountains when Tahn-té came to the portal of the star--thus had his
mother told the girl while Yahn listened like a coiled snake close to
the well.

To Ka-yemo, Yahn seemed again the adoring creature of love. She held
him close, and whispered endearing things. Never had Yahn, the Apache
tigress, let him see how completely her love could make her gentle
and make him master. The sweetness of it, and the absolute relief
when the arrows were destroyed--gave him a sense of security;--It
would be easy to confess to the padre;--the Castilians would be glad
of converts--and Juan Gonzalvo--someway they could make words to
Juan Gonzalvo--and padre would help--and--

Holding closely his hand she led him up the ancient stairway, and the
little doorways of the cliff dwellings showed black, for the moon had
slipped above the far hills and shone, a dulled ball of fire through
the sultry haze. Enough light it threw on the white cliffs to show any
moving creature, and Ka-yemo glanced fearfully towards the portal of
the star, for surely a movement was there!

But Yahn Tsyn-deh at the head of the stairway looked straight ahead
where a man with a strong bow held himself close in the shadow of a
great rock. When the twang of the bow string sounded, she loosened not
her hand from that of Ka-yemo as he fell, but with her other hand she
pulled aside the robe from her breast--also the necklace of the white
metal, that not anything turn aside the point of the arrow which was
to follow.

And when it came she fell to her knees, and then over the huddled body
of the man she had loved and led to death.

She loosened not her hand, and only once she spoke.

"It is a good choice," she whispered, but he had led the way into the
Twilight Land--and she followed as she had said was the right of a
woman.

And the clan of Ka-yemo could chant songs of bravery all their days
and not know that Yahn the Apache had saved the pride of her father's
people, and had hidden the weakness of Ka-yemo on the heights of
Pu-yé!




CHAPTER XXI

THE CALL OF THE ANCIENT STAR


When the moon had scarce reached the center of the sky, a gray faced
man slipped through the corn fields of the river lands, and spoke to
the Spanish sentry who paced before the dwellings where the camp was
made outside the wall.

The sentry wondered who the woman was who had held him belated, for
many were now coming from Shufinne, and some of them were pretty.

But Capitan Gonzalvo laid himself down to dream of no woman. He crept
to the pallet of Padre Vicente. There were no words lest others be
aroused, but a pressure of a hand was enough to bring the padre to his
feet, the sleep of the man was ever light as that of one who does
sentry duty day time and night time.

Out into the open of the summer night they both passed, and in the
shadow of a wall where the Te-hua sentinel could not see, a man of
iron broke down and half sobbed a confession of horror.

The padre paced to and fro in the dusk of the night, and gave not over
much care to the shaken heart of the penitent.

"A hundred Aves, and half as many rosaries,--and candles for the altar
of San Juan when we return to Mexico." He tabulated the penance on his
fingers, with his mind clearly not on those details.

"Take you courage now, and hark to me," he said brusquely. "You say
you saw the maid and the man dead one on the other;--and that you fled
across the mesa at sight of their faces. That pretty Apache devil told
you that the witch lived at that place, and that the Po-Ahtun-ho was
her lover. How know you that it was not indeed witchcraft you looked
upon? How know you that the infernal magic was not used to change the
faces of the two that you be sent home not knowing which are dead and
which are living? This may yet be turned to our advantage."

Juan Gonzalvo was past thinking. Not though gold was found as
plentiful as the white stones of Pu-yé would he again go to the witch
accursed spot! His own armor had been touched by the fire of hell in
that place until he had lain it aside while he waited for the coming
of the sorcerer, and the sorcerer had in some way kept hidden--magic
spells had been worked to blind the eyes of Gonzalvo to the faces of
the others--even though light was given for the arrows to speed true!
He would fight living Indians in the open:--but no more would he trail
witches in the dark!

So he mumbled and made prayers and calmed himself somewhat at sight of
the calm, ever cool padre.

"Go you to your rest," said his reverence at last,--"and forget all
the work of this night."

"Forget?--but they will be found--they--"

"I will see that they are found, but let it not trouble you," stated
Padre Vicente. "We must meet trickery by trickery here. Go to your
bed, and sleep too sound for early waking."

"But--how--"--between the shock and fear of the night, Gonzalvo fairly
clung to the quiet strength of the padre.

"Take your sleep:--and keep a still tongue forever! I have had a dream
or a vision this night," and the padre smiled grimly. "I can as well
afford a vision as can the elect of the Po-Ahtun!--and my vision will
send people of Ka-yemo's clan to search for dead friends on the
heights of Pu-yé!"

"And if they find there also--?"

"Ah!" and the padre nodded and smiled that the thought had penetrated
the shocked mind of Capitan Gonzalvo;--"If they find there also the
evidence that their high priest is the lover of a witch--and that he
runs from council prayers to meet her in the night:--is that not the
best of all things the saints could send us? You have done good work
for the cause this night, Juan Gonzalvo. Go now to your sleep--and
when you hear of that which is found on Pu-yé, you hear it for the
first time!"

The council of that night had been a late council because of the
quaking of the earth. Every one knew it was time that a sacrifice be
made to the visitor in the sky. All of evil was coming to the land
because this had not been done. One Yutah slave belonged to the Quan
clan, and a robe and shell beads must be given by the vote of the
council to that clan. It would be a better thing to use the new Navahu
who was made captive by the men of iron, but their new brothers would
not listen to this wisdom.

When the sun looked over the edge of the mountain in the new day the
sun must see the heart lifted high;--and the body must go to the
murmuring river--then only could hope come that the evil magic be
lifted from the land of the Te-hua people.

Thus the vote had been, and thus had Tahn-té been held in council long
after the time the Moon Mother came over Ni-am-be mountains.

Don Ruy was at that council, and asked to speak against the offering
of blood to the god whose eye was as the star. But Tahn-té listened
and then spoke,

"Your own god of the book asks for sacrifice--your god of the book
accepted his own son as a sacrifice--and that people prospered! Your
priests teach the blood atonement, and the death they gave the
earth-born god was a hard death--if he had really died there! Being a
god he could not die in that way;--all medicine men who know strong
magic know that. But the blood was spilled and the spirit went away
from that place--the earth gods always go away like that while they
are young;--never do they die. There are days--and there are nights,
when they come back! They speak in many ways to earth people. You men
of iron do not to-day make blood sacrifice to your gods;--so you say!
Yet your people go out to battle and kill many people for your
god--also many of your own people are killed in such god wars--your
tribes of different names call these wars 'holy'. Our people do not
think like that. Even the wild tribes hold the Great Mystery sacred in
their hearts. They will fight for hunting ground, or to steal women or
corn--but to fight about the gods would bring evil magic on the
land--the old men could not be taught that it is a good thing! Also
your Holy Office has the torch, and the rack, and the long death of
torture for the man who cannot believe. The priests of your jealous
god do that work, and their magic is strong over men. You talk against
our altars, but on our altars there is not torture,--there is one
quick pain--and the door of the Twilight Land is open and the spirit
is loose! This world where we live is a very ancient world, but it is
not yet finished. All the old men can tell you that. It may be in the
unborn days that earth creatures may see the world when it
finished,--and when the gods come back, and speak in the sunlight to
men. In that time the sacrifice may be a different sacrifice. But in
this time we follow the ancient way for the gods have not shown us a
different way."

"You have studied much in books--you have learned much from men," said
Don Ruy--"You could change the minds of these people in this matter."

Tahn-té looked kindly on him, but shook his head.

"Not in the ages of ten men can you change the mind of the men you
called Indian," he said, "in my one life I could not make them see
this as you see it--yet am I called strong among them. Also I could
not tell them that the way of the white priest when he breaks the
bones in torture until the breath goes, is a better way than to take
the heart quickly for the god! That would be a lie if I said it, and
true magic does not come to the man who knows that he is himself a
teller of lies!"

The men of the council went their separate ways to sleep in the kivas,
well content that the angry god was to be appeased at the rising of
the sun,--and Don Ruy rolled himself in his blanket and lay near the
door where Ysobel and her husband lived apart from the camp, with only
the secretary inside their walls. But Don Ruy slept little--and cursed
the heathenish logic of Tahn-té, and wished him to the devil.

And stealthily as a serpent in the grasses,--or a panther in the
hills, Tahn-té sped from the council of sacrifice, to the hills where
he knew a girl had waited long for his coming.

Little thought gave he to trailers. The night before had been the
night of the scalp dance--and now the trembling earth, and the
council, had left the men weary for the rest of sleep. He ran swiftly
and steadily in the open as any courier to Shufinne might run.

But those of the Tain-tsain clan who followed, noted that he did not
go to Shufinne,--he climbed instead the steeps where they were to
climb, and for that reason their coming was stealthy, and the
cleverest men were sent ahead, and all said prayers and cast prayer
meal to the gods,--for this was a strange thing the white priest had
seen in a vision--it was to be proven if he was of the prophets!

The two couriers of the clan knew it was proven when they saw the two
dead people near the head of the stone stairway. And when they heard
the sobs of a woman within the dwelling of the Reader of the Stars in
the ancient days--also the soothing tones of a man,--they crept back
into the shadows and told the leaders. And a circle of men was made
about the place, and in silence they waited.

Ere their hearts had ceased to beat quickly from the run, that which
they waited for stepped forth;--a man to whom a creature clung--her
face was hidden against his breast, and he led her with care lest she
see the dead people on the stairway--for the Navahu shrinks more than
another from sight or touch of the dead!

"There are other places--and safe places," he said to her and held her
close. "Does not the bluebird find nesting place in the forest? And
does not her mate find her there in the summer nights?"

And then--with his arms around her, and his robe covering her, his
path was closed by a warrior who stood before him! His eyes turned
quickly on every side, but on every side was a circle of men,--and
the men were all of the clan of Ka-yemo to whom Tahn-té had never been
precious since the days of boyhood--and the camp of Coronado.

And the younger men were for claiming the maid when they saw her face,
and the older men read triumph against Tahn-té for the work of this
night.

"That which is meant for the gods is not to be given to men," they
said in chiding to the young men, and Tahn-té knew what they meant
when they said it.

"It is the Navahu witch maid of Te-gat-ha," cried
another--"look--brothers! This is a Navahu arrow through the eye of
Ka-yemo, and through the heart of Yahn Tsyn-deh. Alone here she has
destroyed them!--and alone here would Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho have
cherished her! The priest of the men of iron is a man of strong magic.
His vision has sent us to find the one who has made angry the gods of
our land!"

"Go you and gather pine for the altar," said the head of the clan, and
two youths ran joyously down the slope;--for they were to aid in
driving evil magic from the valley!

"This maid did not touch those dead people," said Tahn-té,--"for that
she must not suffer."

"You Summer people are easily held by witches' craft," retorted one of
the men insolently,--a day before he would only have addressed Tahn-té
with reverence.

"Was she not marked for sacrifice at Te-gat-ha?"--"Has she not caused
the killing of the corn?" "Did not the Navahu men come to destroy us
because of her?" "Is the earth not angry that she has hidden in the
sacred places?"

These questions came thick and fast for Tahn-té to answer, and
Tahn-té held her hand and knew there was no answer to be made. And
Phent-zha, who was the oldest man there, looked at him keenly.

"Are you also not more weak in magic for her coming," he asked,--"is
your heart not grown sick? The magic of the white priest is against
you;--and it is strong! When we have taken the heart from this witch,
and you have again fasted in the hills, the sick land and the sick
people will be made better."

The maid looked from face to face in the glare of freshly lit torches,
and caught little of meaning from the rapid speech. But no one touched
her, and she looked with confidence into the eyes of Tahn-té. He had
not moved from his tracks, and he held himself proudly as he faced the
man who had long wished his humiliation.

"When the time comes to fast in the hills, I will know it," he
said,--"and no hand touches the heart of this maid, but--my own!"

"It is at sunrise," said the governor, stilled by the look of the
Po-Ahtun-ho--"a runner has been sent--the council will be waiting for
the enchantress, and the women to prepare her will be waiting."

"I will lead her," said Tahn-té and took her hand, and from the
medicine pouch he took one bead of the by-otle, and in Navahu he bade
her eat of it in secret, which she did wonderingly, and the men of the
Tain-tsain clan walked before and after them and held torches, and
they went down the steep of Pu-yé before the moon had touched the
pines of the western hills. And a runner was sent to Shufinne that the
people there might come and put Yahn Tsyn-deh and her lover under the
earth together.




CHAPTER XXII

"AT THE TRAIL'S END!"


The morning stars were shining through the gray threatening sky, when
a slender blanket draped figure stepped from Ysobel's doorway into the
dusk, and came near putting foot on Don Ruy Sandoval who lay there as
if on guard.

There was a little gasp, and the blanket was clutched more closely.

"Your Excellency!" breathed Chico wonderingly--"awake so
early--and--here?"

"Awake so late," amended his excellency,--"and is this not a good
place to be?"

"In truth I am having doubts of my own," confessed the secretary with
attempted lightness. "What with barbaric battles, and earth
quakings,--and a night when the breath of volcanoes seemed abroad in
the land and strange lightenings came up from the earth--it suggests
no dreams of paradise! Don Diego thinks it is because the expedition
has not been more eager for souls."

"Has he not converted Säh-pah and won a ladylove?" asked Don Ruy--"he
is at least that much in advance of the rest of us. I've had no luck,
and you are as much of a bachelor as ever you were."

Chico contemplated the morning star in silence, and Don Ruy smiled.

"If the enchanted ring of Señor Ariosta should fall at your feet from
yon star;--or the lamp of Alladin would come out of the earth in one
of these quakings, what would you ask it to do with us all, since this
camp is not to your liking?" he asked.

"I would wish you safe in Mexico with no sorcerer to doctor your
wounds if you were bent on acquiring such pleasures."

"No learned professor could have brought healing more quickly,"
contended Don Ruy,--"and the sorcerer, if so he be, has given me food
for thought at least. Which reminds me that you are not to go to the
river mesa this morning in case you see the barbarians trooping that
way for ceremonies."

A runner came panting past them from towards the hills, and the gate
was opened for him and closed again, and a herald from the terrace
shouted aloud sentences arousing all who yet slept;--not only arousing
them, but causing unexpected shrieks and cries of consternation from
many dwellings. There were the lamentations of the old women of the
Tain-tsain clan, and their wails sent the thrill of a mysterious dread
through the night that was dying, for the day had not yet come.

"What is it--what?" asked the secretary in a whisper of dread. "You
know what the thing is;--tell me!"

"Not so nice a thing that you should trade a convent garden for it,"
confessed Don Ruy--"if the wishing ring were mine you would be wafted
there before that star goes pale."

"Oh!"--and the secretary strove to assume a lightness not to be
honestly felt in that chorus of wails. "You would make me a messenger
to your lady of the tryst--and I would tell her that since luck with
the pagan maids has not been to your fancy, you may please to walk
past her balcony and again cast an eye in that direction!"

"And at the same time you might whisper to her that I would not now
need to glance at her the second time to know her," he added. "Even
the armor of a Bradamante could not mask her eyes, or dull for me the
music of her voice."

"Excellency!"

"It is a most strange place to make words for the wooing of a lady, is
it not?"--asked Don Ruy looking up at the slender form wrapped in the
blanket.--"But new worlds are in making when earth quakes come,--and
our to-morrows may be strange ones, and--sweetheart comrade, I have
lain at your door each night since your head rested on my shoulder
there in the arroyo."

Someway Don Ruy made his arm long enough to reach the blanket and draw
the hesitating figure to him, and rested his cheek against the russet
sandals, and then a very limp Master Chico was on the ground beside
him, and was hearing all the messages any lady of any balcony would
like Love to send her.

"I cannot forgive you letting me carry all that water for a fainting
fit--and there was no fainting fit!" she protested at last,--"all
these days I've lived in terror;--not quite certain!"

"Think you nothing of the uncertain weeks you have given me?"--he
retorted.--"I had my puzzled moments I do assure you! And now that I
think of it--I'm in love with a lady whose actual name I have not been
told!"

"Are we not equal in that?" she whispered, and he laughed and held her
close as a bandaged throat would allow.

"Ruy Sandoval is a good enough name to go to the priest with," he
said, "and if 'Doña Bradamante' has no other I'll give her one if
she'll take it."

"Despite the Indian grandmother, and the madness of longing for life
in the open--and--."

"And the Viceroy and court of Spain to boot!" he declared recklessly.
"Sweetheart, I must have the right to guard you in a new way if need
be, for these are strange days."

Even while they spoke the stars were shot over by the green light of a
promised dawn, and against the faint sky line of the mesa a strange
procession came. Men carrying long fringes of the cedar such as grow
in the moist places in the cañons,--also festoons of the ground pine,
and flowers of the sun with the brilliant petals like warm rays.

The bearers of these ran swiftly, but the others moved more steadily,
and Don Ruy called to José to learn for him the meanings of things,
and why Tahn-té, the Ruler, walked like that as if in prayer, and
clasped hands with a girl who smiled up in his face as a child on a
holiday, though all the older men looked as though walking to battle.

"It is the witch maid who has brought evil magic on the land," said
José, who had heard the herald--"also she has enchanted the
Po-Ahtun-ho with devil's arts, and has killed Yahn Tsyn-deh and
Ka-ye-mo with Navahu arrows on Pu-yé. They say she laughs to show that
no knife can harm her, and she goes to the altar instead of the
Yutah;--for it is she the earth groaned for."

"Go--"--said Don Ruy to his lately claimed "Doña Bradamante"--"keep
within the house with Ysobel until we come again. There may be much
to do, Lady mine, but there are no records for you to keep this
day."

And without protest or reply he was obeyed. There was something so
awful in the sight of the smiling maid of the bluebird wing, and the
wails of the women who mourned those she had destroyed, that one would
willingly flee the sight of their meeting.

But the Te-hua guards closed around the enchantress and the fanatics
of vengeance were barred out. Those meant for the Mesa of the Hearts
were not to be given to people!

Publicly the governor made thanks to the priest of the men of
iron;--he it was who had smelled out the witch--and sent the men where
her dead was found! Plain it was that their white brothers helped in
magic and in battle. Let the old men think wisely and well before they
let such brothers go from the land. For the angry gods, and the
quaking earth, the priest of the beard had found the cause;--also the
cure had he found. Did not the sun symbol belong to this man for this
work? Let the old men think well of this thing!

Don Ruy held José at his side, and listened, and hearing all, he faced
the padre with the first anger they had seen in his reckless kindly
eyes.

"For your own ends of the gold search you have done this thing?" he
demanded. "To a death on the altar have you sent that child-woman?
Good priest of the church, you make a man wonder if the saints indeed
listen, and God is above!"

"Oh--impious!" groaned Don Diego, and crossed himself in horror. "Oh
Excellency--your words are apostate--unsay them and tempt not Almighty
Power!"

The padre turned pale with anger and shut his teeth close under the
dark beard. But he was not a coward, and the habit of domination
through special privileges was a habit of many years, and it served
him against the merely temporal power of even regal influences.

"Of the witch creature I gave them no word," he said--"it was their
thrice accursed sorcerer they were sent in search of. But the two
belong to each other, and the old men of the order know now that their
high priest is in league with devils. Never again will he be the
Ruler. His power is overthrown. He cannot save even his own witch-mate
from the vengeance of the clans. The thing we have crossed these
deserts for will be given to us since his voice against us is
silenced. Is that a thing to regret, Excellency? I thought it was for
this we made entrance to the land--and for this you joined hands for
the expedition!"

He had recovered his ease of manner, and even a mocking tone crept
into the final words. Don Ruy looked around the faces of the
Castilians and Mexicans and saw no more of special emotion in the
light of the gray dawn than they had shown at the dance of the scalps
in the glow of torches so few hours ago.

To them all it was only a witch being led to death, and they had seen
that same thing in Christian lands. It was not a thing for special
wonder,--except that this sorceress was young, and that she looked at
the young Indian Ruler, and smiled often, and little sounds like a
mere murmur of a song came sometimes from her lips.

[Illustration: ONLY A WITCH LED TO DEATH _Page 310_]

                    "_Just at daylight Doli calls
                    The bluebird has a voice
                    His voice melodious
                    That flows in gladness
                    Doli calls! Doli calls!_"

The guard shrank away from her as she began. The Navahu captive who
had been long a slave, said it was the song of the Dawn, and that it
was the last song of many songs which were part of the wonderful
"Night Chant" ceremony of his people,--it was a ceremony to heal all
things of the ills of life.

But despite his words the Te-hua men shrank away, and the Te-hua women
had trembling hands as they stripped her, and crowned her with the
sacred pine, and fastened around her a girdle of the feathery young
cedar, and in the green of the crown they thrust the golden disks of
the flowers of the sun. She lifted the lion skin from the ground and
held it close as a garment, and stood alone against the terrace wall.
The people shrank and half feared to look at her lest the Dawn song be
a witch charm to enchant them.

Po-tzah had brought to Tahn-té the white robe of the priest who makes
sacrifice, and a long knife of white flint for which the sheath was
softest of deerskin, and the symbols painted on it were those of the
Father Sun and Mother Moon.

And while the maid held close the garment he had given her, and
chanted her Dawn song dreamily, Tahn-té lifted from the ground the
wing of the bluebird tossed aside by the medicine women who made her
ready for the sacrifice, and he placed it in the white band about his
own head so that he wore two instead of one, and then he lifted his
voice and spoke, and no other sound was heard but his voice, and the
low song of the witch maid.

"Men of Te-hua," he said. "If I speak not you will not know the
truth;--and it may be that you will live many days ere you believe
this truth! The maid who has come down from the hills is not a
stranger to Povi-whah--and has done no evil. The daughter of
K[=a]-ye-fah is this maid. She is K[=a]-ye-povi, the child who was
lost. All you people know of the years of the grieving of her father
who was strong for that which was good. His child has come back to
find her own people. On the trail she was lost, and evil magic of the
men of iron have made hard your hearts when she came to you. I have
waited until all the people were here to listen. Now I speak. To speak
at Pu-yé to the clan of Tain-tsain would not have been wise. They were
sent by the vision of the white priest to find a witch woman. It is
the child of K[=a]-ye-fah they find, and instead of glad hearts, and
glad speech, she is given by the Te-hua people only the crown of the
sacred pine. Let her own clan of the Towa Toan speak!"

A thrill of wonder ran through the crowd, but no kind faces were
there, and Tahn-té took from his medicine pouch the last seed of the
sacred medicine given to man by the gods. There had been many seeds
when they left Pu-yé. He knew he was daring the gods, and that the
penalty would be heavy. But her fearless face, and the music of her
Dawn song was payment for much.

And to the gods he would answer!

The gray dawn was gone, and the green dawn was merging into the yellow
where the stars are lost.

The head of the Towa Toan clan spoke from a terrace.

"We have heard the words of Tahn-té. The witch maid is not known by
our people, and our clan does not claim her! By evil magic has the
song of this maid blinded the eyes of Tahn-té,--and by evil magic
will she make desolate the land if she is let live. The white priest
has strong medicine--and good medicine of the gods. The men of
Te-gat-ha and the men of Navahu knew her as a witch, and sought her.
They did not find her because the men of iron were not their brothers.
To us they are brothers. I give thanks, and we think they should have
that which they seek with us. Their priest works also for our god, and
the symbol of the god is not to be hidden from him. Also the altar
waits;--and the stars are going away!"

Tahn-té touched the hand of the maid.

"Come!" he said gently, and as he touched her hand, he gave to her the
last seed from the fruit of the sacred plant,--"eat for the trail you
must walk over, and sing for me alone the song holy of the Navahu Sun
God; I take you to meet him on the Mesa of the Hearts."

Don Ruy tried to press through the guard, but the orders of the heads
of the clans had been strong orders. The Castilian brothers might
follow; but the stars were going away, and there was no time for words
after the crown was made. The flowers must not wither above a living
face.

And the maid entered the canoe with the Po-Ahtun-ho and the Te-hua
boatmen plied the paddles so that the crossing was quick, and all the
others followed, and some men swam, and the Castilian horses and
riders went also. And a second priest of the Po-Ahtun went with a
white robe, and a good knife in his girdle. Tahn-té was called
"sorcerer" by the wise men of iron, and it was best to trust not
entirely to the heart of a sorcerer. He was plainly bewitched, and his
heart might grow weak when he looked on the altar, and looked on the
maid!

Tahn-té pointed to the upturned face of the God-Maid on the bosom of
the south mesa.

"That was my altar to you all the days of my boyhood," he said softly,
"there I met the god thoughts; there were the serpents tamed. It is
the God-Maid of this valley and her face is ever to the sun. To her
was my love given while I waited for your face! Listen!--and know this
is so--and sing now the song of the Sun God and the earth's end."

With her eyes on his she chanted the words, and the Te-hua oarsmen
dared not look on her face for very terror. The words they did not
know--but no victim had ever yet gone singing to that altar.

               "_In my thoughts I approach--I approach!
               The Sun God approaches,
               Earth's end he approaches.
               Estsan-atlehi approaches
               In old age walking
               The beautiful trail.
               In my thoughts I approach--I approach!
               The Moon God approaches
               Earth's end he approaches--_"

The canoe touched the shore, and the maid clasped the hand of Tahn-té
and went over the sand lightly as a child who wanders through flower
fields to a festival. He looked in her eyes and knew that the magic of
the sacred seed was strong, and that the hand of no man could hurt
her.

"Your trail is to the hills," he said.--"To the heart of the forest
you go. Where the bluebird builds her nest--there you build the nest
where we meet again. You see your wings in my hair? I wear both of
them that they lead me again to your trail when the time comes. When
the bluebird calls to her mate, I will hear your voice in that call.
When the anger of the gods has passed, I will find you again in the
Light beyond the light at the trail's end."

"At the trail's end," she said as a child repeats a lesson--"I build
the nest for you, and sing the bluebird song for you at the trail's
end."

"Thanks to the gods that it will be so," he said, and sprinkled prayer
meal to the four ways.--"The Spirit People stand witness! The gods
will be good in that Afterworld;--I will find you again."

They had reached the edge of the mesa--and the pale yellow of the sky
had been covered with a weird murky red. For all the many followers, a
strange hush was on the height, and far in the south low thunder was
heard. The same still, heavy air of the night was brooding over the
world, and long rays of copper and dull red were flung like banners to
the zenith. Each man's eyes looked strange questions into the eyes of
his neighbor, and the Te-hua men came not close to the witch maid, and
the man at the altar.

                "_The Sun God approaches--approaches!
                Earth's end he approaches!_"

They could hear the low chant of her witch song, and they could see
Tahn-té offer prayer meal to the Spirit People of the four ways, and
to the upper and the nether world. At his word she laid herself on the
rock, and no other priest was asked to help, or to hold her, and that
was a sacrifice such as had never been seen in that place.

"No hand but mine shall touch you:--O Bird of my Wilderness!" he
said.

"In the Light beyond the light I wait for you at the trail's end,"
she said, and laughed that his hand rested on her breast.

And the sun, blood red, came over the edge of the world, and Don Ruy
cried aloud at the lifted hand of Tahn-té, and the gleam of the white
flint knife.

But the guard closed in, and one of his own men caught him, and asked
for pardon afterwards, and when he could again see the altar, the
knife was red, and a heart was held outward to the sun that looked
like the flame of burning worlds.

And a long, shivering, high keyed chant of the Te-hua people went
upwards to the sky, that the gods might know they were witness. But in
the midst of it the rumbling as of thunder was under their feet and
the earth rocked. Sulphurous fumes came upwards from the long closed
crevices of the solitary mesa; and to the south there was the crash as
of falling worlds, and the great mesa of The Face lifted before their
eyes, and settled again as a wave of the river lifts and breaks on the
shore.

The chant of the sacrifice was silenced on their lips, and they fled
downward at that sight, for the face of the God-Maid of the mesa no
longer looked upwards to the sun! The outline of the brow, and the
cheek, and the dainty woman's chin they could still see;--but the face
was turned from them--turned toward the south--where the gods have
ever gone in an evil season!

And only Don Ruy Sandoval saw the heart put back in the breast of the
witch maid, and saw her wrapped in the white robe of the Po-Ahtun-ho,
and saw the crevice where the Powers of the Underworld had opened a
grave for her there on the Mesa of the Hearts.

And even he watched afar off; for there was that in the face of the
Indian priest not to be understood by the white man who felt both pity
and horror.

But he waited at the foot of the mesa, and held the canoe while the
Po-Ahtun-ho, who had the logic of a white man, but the heart of an
Indian, came down and entered it in silence, and as they crossed the
river, stared as though scarcely seeing it, at The Face now turned
southwards on the mesa.

"You--loved her?" said Don Ruy at last and something of the tone of a
lover in the voice made Tahn-té close his eyes for a moment, and then
look at the Castilian. He did not need to speak.

"Yet--you could do--_that_?"

"When the gods are angered against earth people, it is always the most
precious they demand in sacrifice," he said. "When we make vows, the
gods watch that we keep the vows--else we pay, Señor,--we pay--we
pay!"




CHAPTER XXIII

THE PROPHECY OF TAHN-TÉ


Vague tremblings were still felt underfoot; the river was red with the
clay of fallen banks. Smoke came from an ancient crater to the south,
and also the east, and above the Mesa of the Hearts hung a cloud of
volcanic dust, or a puff of smoke escaped from the red ash-covered
fissures of the Underworld.

The women were gathered in terror in the court, but fled at the sight
of Tahn-té. The anger of the earth was a thing of fear; but he was
made see that there were worse things, and they covered the faces of
their children that his eyes might not rest on them.

At the door of the council house he paused and Don Ruy beside him.
There was much talk. All the leading men were there, also Padre
Vicente and Don Diego. They entered and there was silence.

No one offered to Tahn-té the pipe, and no one spoke to him.

The priest of the New God had told them things--he knew men's
hearts--he had confessed so many!--He told them it was love for the
witch maid by which the hand of the sorcerer kept every other man from
touching her.--Even to take the heart from her breast, was an easier
thing than to give her to the men of Te-gat-ha or of Povi-whah, who
had looked on her face and asked for her, also he had wrapped about
her his priestly robe of office before he laid her in the earth where
Satan had broken the rock to reach for her!

Their sorcerer had traded his robe of office for the evil love of an
enchantress:--never again must a god be offended by sound of his
prayers!

And no one offered him the pipe, and no one spoke to him. He sat alone
and looked with unseeing eyes at the weeping god on the altar.

Padre Vicente was seated in a place of honor. He looked at Tahn-té
across the circle, and it was plain that the ways had changed since
that other day of council when they had looked into each other's eyes,
and the pagan had been the Ruler!

The right hand man of the governor arose. He was the oldest man, and
he spoke.

"While the earth has trembled we have talked--and the trembling has
grown little while we talked," he said. "It is plain that the gods
have sent these signs that we may know our white brothers are indeed
of the sun, and the symbol of the sun should be given to their
keeping."

Another man arose.

"Also these new brothers will guard our fields from the Navahu and the
Apache," he said. "We will have the tamed animals to ride, and our
enemies will run before the fire sticks our brothers will give us."

The governor arose.

"Their god we are asked to take, and the god will do much for us if
the sun symbol is given to their keeping. To us that seems good. The
keepers of the sun symbol are two, and must be only two. Let it be for
the ancients of the Po-Ahtun to say which man of their order gives up
the secret, and makes medicine to forget it was ever in his keeping."

A man of the Po-Ahtun stood up and looked at Tahn-té.

"A man and a woman hold that secret of the symbol of the god," he
said. "In our own kiva must that be spoken of, and not in another
place. But the hearts of our people are gentle towards our new
brothers who smell out witches, and do not mate with them! Our order
will surely make medicine that the priest of the great king be given
that secret to keep for us, and the Sun God will smile again on our
land."

"It is well--it is very well," said all the council. And then there
was a long silence, and they looked at Tahn-té until he arose.

"Not except I die for you, will you believe;--and even then you will
not believe," he said in sadness. "You, my people, will accept the god
of the gold hunters, and you will not see that it is only riches they
want at your hands! In other years you will see. When the men of
Te-hua work in chains for the men of Spain--and for the masters of the
men of Spain!--Then in that day will the men of Te-hua tell to their
sons these words--the words of the prophecy of Tahn-té!"

"We are much troubled, and our hearts are sad," said Po-tzah. "The
magic of the white god is strong--and their priest has let our people
see that it is strong. We do not want that magic against our
children."

"Against your children will the magic come in the unborn years!" said
Tahn-té with decision. "You will take the god of the white man because
one more god, or one more baptism hurts no man. You will be trapped by
fair words until I see the time when you can circle in the half of a
day all the fields you dare plant for your own! The Flute of the Gods
will be silenced in the land. Your Te-hua daughters will be slaves for
the men of the iron! The sacred places will be feeding lands for their
animals. The Te-hua priests will wait the word of the white man ere
they dare go to the groves of the sacred trees for the prayer wreaths
to the gods!"

"The sacred pine must be sacred to all--always!" said Po-tzah.

"Not anything is sacred to the white men--I have looked in their
books;--I, of all Te-hua men!"

Padre Vicente saw that the old magic of the talking leaves was
potent;--and he arose without waiting for formal interpretation.

"He has looked in the books with the eyes of a sorcerer!" he declared,
thus openly accusing Tahn-té before the council.--"He has read crooked
things--and his words are the words of the man who mated with the
witch in the hills!"

The council stared at this new sign that strong magic was with the
priest of the robe--he was suddenly given knowledge of the tongue of
Te-hua! Don Diego stared in wonder and crossed himself many times.

"It is a language infernal even to the people born to it," he
gasped--"but that it should be given to one of us on the day when we
are openly claimed as brothers is a special sign of grace. Thanks to
the saints who sent it your way instead of mine!"

"This man has brought evil on you until the earth groans and turns,"
continued the Padre. "His mother of the caves is called 'holy' and he
is called strong in the light of the sky:--But the sky is angry, and
the Great God and his saints are angry that this sorcerer has cheated
you so long with enchantments of the devil! Be strong for the saving
of your own souls, and leave him to his witch mates and to his hell!"

Even Don Ruy was astounded that the padre addressed the council in
their own words--truly of all priests ever frocked he had found the
one most subtle for the work in hand, for having gained the
council--as it was easy to see he had gained them--Padre Vicente spoke
in Castilian to Tahn-té.

"Yet does my office exact absolution for you, if you but crave it with
a contrite heart," he said for the benefit of Don Ruy and Don Diego
who listened. "You have worked for your devils, and they have deserted
you, and stripped you of power. Acknowledge the true God and the
saints will intercede for your favor."

Tahn-té looked at him, and his smile was strange.

"There was a man named Judas in your holy book," he said, "only silver
did he crave for his work. You are greater than Judas; you work for
the metal more precious. Is it thirty pieces you want ere you crucify
me utterly?"

The figure of a woman darkened the entrance--a slender fragile figure
who moved to him swiftly, and noted no others in the dusk of the
council house. In Shufinne the word had reached her of the horror of
Pu-yé--and she had come quickly as might be, and the sound of his
living voice drew her breathless, but thankful to his side, and his
arm circled her in support and in tenderness as he looked over her
head to the Te-hua men of the council.

"I see your thoughts, and I read them," he said. "The men who seek the
gold have put a wall between you and me. That which you have you can
give them;--but remember in your hearts that there are things which
belong to the unborn, and such things you have no power to give them.
Only so long as you keep your own religion, and your own gods, so long
will your tribe stand as a tribe;--no longer! Step by step your
children will have to fight the strangers for that which is now your
own. Only your god-thoughts will bind you as brothers;--the god of the
gold hunters will poison your blood, and will divide your clans, and
will divide your children, until your names are forgotten in the
land!"

"The sorcerer who tells you this is the brother to the serpents in
the Desert!" said Padre Vicente springing to his feet in angry
impatience;--"enough of words have been said of this--."

A sound between a scream and a moan silenced the words on his lips,
and Don Ruy felt his blood run chill, as the drooping figure of the
Woman of the Twilight stood suddenly upright with lifted hand.

"Teo!"--she murmured in utter gladness,--and moved through the half
light of the room towards the Castilians. "Teo!"

"Holy God!" whispered Don Ruy, while the padre turned white. Don Diego
stared in horror--only one named Teo came in his mind--the Greek who
should belong to the Holy Office in Seville;--the man whose word even
now was wanted as to the older days of Christian slave trade in
Europe!

"Don Teo!" she was quite close to him now, and she spoke as a
trembling child who craves welcome,--"I--Mo-wa-thé--speak! O
Spirit;--you have come back from the Star--you have come--."

The Te-hua men, and Tahn-té also, waited in wonder. Never before had
the Twilight Woman gone like that to a man--and she was so close that
the man shrank from her against the wall of the room.

"Back!"--he muttered, and he spoke Te-hua now, and his voice was rough
with rage and fear,--"This woman is evil, and brings evil power!"

"She is the Woman of the Twilight--the holy woman of the caves," said
a man of the Po-Ahtun, for Tahn-té could find no words for the wonder
she wakened.

"She is an enchantress who fights against the true god and his
angels;--a witch of evil magic!"--and the padre was white, and
breathing hard lest she touch him.

"A witch!"--she echoed in horror.--"I?--Teo--."

She crept to him in abject supplication and reached out her hand,
touching the sleeve of his robe.

"Back!"--he shouted in horror--and held the crucifix between
them--"Thing of the Evil One! May your tongue be palsied--may your
magic fail--may--."

Tahn-té hurled him aside, and caught his mother as she fell; and the
padre leaned half fainting against the wall, with great beads of sweat
standing on his face, and the crucifix still lifted as a barrier or as
a threat.

But the threat was useless to the slender creature of the caves.

"Teo--Teo!" she whispered, and then "Tahn-té," and then the breath
went, and her son laid her gently on the floor, while the padre
regarded _him_ with a new horror! Don Ruy watching them both, choked
back an oath at the revelation in the white face.

[Illustration: "BACK! THING OF THE EVIL ONE!" _Page 324_]

The Te-hua men also drew away;--even Po-tzah averted his face when
Tahn-té looked from one to the other!

Again had their eyes seen the strength of the white medicine god. The
holy Woman of the Twilight had been destroyed before their eyes. It
was the greatest magic they had yet seen!

Tahn-té saw it, and knew it; and felt as he had felt when a boy, and
he had stood alone and apart--the only child of the sky. He had come
again into his own! He was akin to none of earth's children.

Then the man of the Po-Ahtun spoke.

"Two there were who held the secret of the sun symbol;--Now there is
only one,--she has taken it through the Twilight Land to the Light
beyond the light."

"Two?"--said Don Ruy--"and this woman was one? And the other?"

No one spoke, but Tahn-té looked at him; and again there was no need
for words.

"Medicine can be made to make a man forget," said Tahn-té to the men
of Te-hua--"but no medicine can be made to make a man remember! One
keeper of the secret is dead by the magic of the white priest. Your
children's children will give thanks in the days to come that it was
not given to the men of iron."

"It is a secret of the tribe!" protested the man of the Po-Ahtun.

"It is now the secret of the god who hid it in the earth," said
Tahn-té. "By all earth people who knew it--it has been forgotten!"

"But--without it we will lose our brothers of the new god!"

"Without it you will surely lose your brothers of the new god!" he
assented. "Each time you look on the God-Maid of the mesa who has
turned away her face, you will remember the prophecies of Tahn-té!
Each time the God of Young Winter paints leaves yellow for the sleep
to come, your children will see a sign on the mountain to tell them
that Tahn-té was indeed Brother to the Serpent as that man said in his
mocking!--also that the prayers of Tahn-té do not end. Free I came
from the Desert to you, and I carried the Flute of the Gods, and fruit
for your children:--free I go out from your dwellings and carry my
'witch mother' to rest!"

He gathered her in his arms, and looked once into the pallid face of
her accuser and destroyer. At that look from the pagan priest the
white priest shrank and covered his face with the cowl.

"You--go?" said Po-tzah.

"In the place of Povi-whah another will hear your prayers to the gods,
and I--Tahn-té the outcast--I go!"

No more words were spoken among the men of the council. In silence
they watched him as he walked with his burden up the trail of the mesa
where he had run so gladly to make his boy vow at the shrine.

No happy sign shone for him this time in the sky. It was as he said to
Don Ruy;--those who make vows to the gods,--and forget them for earth
people, pay--and pay prices that are heavy! But above him a bird swept
into the golden sky. He put up his hand to the wings in his hair--and
heard plainly the words of the mate who would wait his call at the
trail's end.

And Don Ruy Sandoval watched the man called "sorcerer" out of sight,
and then went to the dwelling of José and gathered to his breast the
secretary who had adopted blanket draperies.

[Illustration: TAHN-TÉ; THE OUTCAST _Page 326_]

"Sweetheart comrade," he said without proper prelude or
preparation--"There is not anything in this weary world worth living
for but Love, and Love alone. Shall we take the homeward journey and
go where we can guard it?"

"There are tears in your eyes," said his "Doña Bradamante,"--"and you
look as if you make love to me, yet think of some other thing!"

"I have seen a man live through hell this day," he answered. "Never
ask me, Sweetheart--what the hell was. It is beyond belief that a man
could live it, and continue to live after it."




CHAPTER XXIV

THE BLUEBIRD'S CALL


Even in the long after years in stately Christian Spain, Don Ruy was a
silent man when his serene lady in stiff brocades and jewelled shoes
would mock at court pageantry and sigh for the reckless days when she
had worn the trappings of a page and followed his steps into the north
land of barbaric mysteries.

Mystery much of it had remained for her! The life of the final days in
the terraced village by the great river had been masked and cloaked
for her. Ysobel and José had been silent guards, and Don Ruy could not
be cajoled into speech!

But there had been a morning he suddenly became a very compelling
commander for all of them; and his will was that the cavalcade head
for the south and Mexico as quickly as might be, and that Padre
Vicente de Bernaldez separate from them all and seek converts where he
would. A horse and food was allowed to him, but no other thing.

Don Diego exclaimed with amazement at such arrangement, and warned Don
Ruy that the saints above, and Mother Church in Spain, would demand
account for such act on the part of even Don Ruy Sandoval!

"Is it indeed so?" asked Don Ruy, and smiled with a bitter meaning as
he looked on the padre:--"Will you, señor priest, tell this company it
is at your own will and request that you remain in this land of the
barbarians? Or is your mind changed, and do you fancy Seville as a
pleasant place for a journey?"

But Padre Vicente turned the color of a corpse, and said openly before
them all, that he asked freedom to journey to other Indian villages.
Thus, white and silent he was let go. He went without farewell. If he
found other villages none can tell, but the men of a great Order
framed before the building of the Egyptian pyramids, do know that the
traces of a like Order is to-day in one of the villages of that
province of New Spain, and that there is legend of a white priest who
lived in their terraces of the mesa, and taught them certain things of
the strange outside world so long as they let him live. But his name
is not remembered by men.

What Don Ruy Sandoval said to the Viceroy of Mexico on his return, was
in private conference, but a royal galleon carried him, and carried a
strangely found Mexic bride, across the wide seas to Spain, where the
wonderful "Relaciones" were made the subject of much converse, but
never printed, and during the lifetime of the adventurer called Ruy
Sandoval, the province of New Spain along the Rio Grande del Norte was
locked and barred against the seeker of gold or of souls--it was the
closed land of mystery:--the province of sorcerers, where Mother Earth
hid beneath her heart the symbol of the Sun Father.

But there are legends there in the valley of the Te-hua people to tell
of that time of trial three centuries ago. Also there are the records
written on mesa and mountain. In the time of that far away, the Spirit
People worked together on Na-im-be Mountain until of the evergreen
pine, a giant figure of a man grew there, and around him is growing
the white limbs and yellow leaves of the aspen groves. The hands of
that figure reach high overhead and are to the south, and they hold
the great Serpent whose body is as a strung bow in its arch, and whose
head is high on the hill where the enchanted lake, known by every one,
reflects the sky. Tahn-té, whose mother was the Woman of the Twilight,
said the God of Winter would send a sign that the people might know
the ancient worship of the creeping Brother was a true thing--and so
it was done--all men can see it when the Spirit People turn yellow the
leaves.

Other things spoken by him have come true until the Te-hua priests
know that one born of a god did once live among them as a boy and as a
man.

Like children bewildered did the clans of Povi-whah watch the silent
swift departure of their white brothers from whom they had hoped much.
They thought of many things and had trouble thoughts while they waited
until the mourning of Tahn-té in the hills would be over, and he would
come again to their councils. But when the waiting had been so long
that fear touched their hearts, then men of the highest medicine
sought for him in the hills, that his fasts be not too long, and he be
entreated to return:--that turned-away face of the God-Maid on the
mesa made their hearts weak, and they needed the strong prayers of
Tahn-té. His name meant the Sunlight, and their minds were in shadow
after his going away.

With prayer words and prayer music they sought for him, and sacred
pollen was wafted to the four ways, and all the ways of the Spirit,
that the help of the Lost Others might come also.

They told each other of the promise of Po-se-yemo and of Ki-pah, that
in each time of stress a leader who was god-sent would come to the
Te-hua people so long as they were faithful to the Things of the
Spirit.

This had truly been a season of stress, and an appeal of new, strange
gods!

Tahn-té, the leader, had been born and had come to them; the Flute of
the Ancient Gods he had carried as the Sign!--and as they whispered it
to each other, their eyes had a new terror, and they sought wildly for
reasons to justify themselves.

He had come. They had choice, and they chose the new white brothers,
and the new god promises!

He had come;--and they had closed their hearts against his words--they
had driven him away as in other days the Ancient Fathers had driven
Po-se-yemo to the south:--for the gods only live where the hearts of
men are true, and strong, and of faith!

These things they had been told by the Ancients, but they remembered
it now anew as they followed each other in silence to the hills, and
to the white walls of Pu-yé--and to the tomb there newly built that
the Woman of the Twilight might rest where her people had lived in the
lost centuries.

The portal of it was closed, and the sign of her order was cut in the
rock at the portal.

The priests made many prayers, but no trace of the lost Ruler could
they find. All was silence in that place of the dead, but for the song
of a bluebird flitting from one ancient dwelling to another.

Younger men went far to the west where the people of the Hopi mesas
had loved him;--somewhere in the world he must be found!

But the Hopi people mourned also, for they had heard the strange call
of a flute across the sands in the night time, and had feared to
answer to the call, and in the morning there was no sound of the
flute, and no priest of the flute to be found:--only a trail across
the desert sand--and the trail led the way of the sun trail, and the
Winds of the Four Ways blew, and swept it from sight--and they knew in
their hearts that Tahn-té had sent his good-bye call ere he went from
the land of men to the land of gods.

They knew also that he went alive--for the god-born do not die.

This word the couriers took back to the Te-hua people of the Rio
Grande, and fires were lit for him as they have been lighted for
centuries that the god Po-se-yemo might know that their faith in the
valley of the great river was yet strong for the ancient gods.

Three centuries of the religion of the white strangers have not made
dim the signal fires to those born of the sky!

The walls of Povi-whah have melted again into Mother Earth. Silent are
the groves where the Ancient Others carved their homes from the rock
walls of the heights. Wings of vivid blue flit in the sunlight from
the portal of the star to bough of the piñon tree--and a brooding
silence rests over those high levels;--only the wind whispers in the
pines, and the old Indians point to the bird of azure and tell of a
Demon-maid who came once from the land of the Navahu, and wore such
wings, and sang a song of the blue bird, and enchanted a god-born one
with her promise to build a nest and wait for him--at the trail's
end!

An ancient teller of Te-hua legends will add that the trail of Tahn-té
was covered by the sands of the Four Ways and no living people ever
again looked on his face,--and that the Te-hua priests say the strong
god of the men of iron swept him into the Nothing because he alone
stood against the new faith in that time of trial.

[Illustration: ONLY A TRAIL ACROSS THE DESERT SANDS _Page 332_]

The teller of tales does not know if this be true or not--all gods can
be made strong by people, and it is not good to battle against the god
of a strong people:--they can send strange sorceries and wild
temptings, and the Navahu maid had such charm she was never forgotten
by men who looked upon her face. It is also well known that the
bluebird is a sacred bird for medicine, and does call at every dawn on
those heights, and the wings worn in the banda of Tahn-té might,
through strong love, have become a true charm;--and might have led him
at last to the nest of the witch maid in some wilderness of the Far
Away;--who can tell?

But all men know that the prophecies of Tahn-té are true to-day in the
valley of the Rio Grande--and that his vision was the vision of that
which was to be.

_Aliksai!_




GLOSSARY

"_Alikasai!_"         = Hopi ceremonial word for a story
                          telling, equivalent to "Once upon
                          a time," or "Thus it was."
Alvarado, Hernando de = A lieutenant of Coronado, 1540.
Atoki                 = The Crane.
Ah-ko                 = Acoma, N. M., a village of the Queres
                          people.
Apache                = A warrior tribe of Athapascan stock
                          in Arizona.
Awh-we                = "Mountain Place."
By-otle (_see Py-otle_).
Chinig-Chinik         = A Pacific coast tribe of Nature worshippers.
Chilan Balam          = Indian priest and prophet. 16th Century.
Ci-bo-la              = Zuni, N. M. The only surviving village
                          of the "Seven Cities of Cibola"
                          of the early Spanish, chronicles.
Ci-cu-yé              = Indian village and river. Pecos, N. M.
"Cabeza de Vaca";     = Alvar Nunez:--the first European
                          to cross the land and make record
                          of the natives of the Arizona region.
                          (1528-36).
Dok-os-lid            = Navaho sacred mountain of the west.
                          San Francisco Mt., Arizona.
Doli                  = The blue bird. (Navaho).
Estsan-atlehi         = Navaho Earth Goddess.
Go-hé-yahs            = Spirit People, or mediators between
                          earth people and the Sun Father.
"_Han-na-di_          = Te-hua ceremonial beginning of a
 _Set-en-dah-nh!_"       legend or sacred myth story.
Hopi or Hópitû        = The desert people of Tusayan, often
                          named Moki or Moqui by outsiders
                          or tribal enemies.
Ho-tiwa               = Arrows (being) made.
Kat-yi-ti             = Cochiti Pueblo, N. M.
Ka-yemo               = Falling leaves.
Kah-po                = Santa Clara Pueblo, N. M.
Ki-pah                = A legendary civilizer and prophet of
                          Te-hua people.
Kat-yi-mo             = The solitary "Mesa Enchanted,"
                          three miles north of Acoma.
K[=a]-ye-povi         = Spirit Blossom.
K[=a]-ye-fah          = Wings of the Spirits.
Koh-pé                = Red shell beads.
Khen-yah              = Shaking trail.
Lé-lang-ûh            = The Spirit Leader of the Flute Ceremony
                          for rain in the desert. He
                          was the first to make prayers
                          through the reed to the Spirit People
                          of the Elements. The gods
                          granted the prayer, and the Sacred
                          Order of the Flute was instituted.
                          It exists to-day in Tusayan.
"Lost Others."        = Those who have gone from earth life
                          to the spirit land.
Lo-lo-mi,             = A Hopi word indicating that all is
                          good or beautiful.--A blessing.
Mo-wa-thé             = Flash of Light.
"Mother of the Starry = Milky Way.
 Skirt"
"Moon of the Yellow   = September.
 Leaves"
Navahu                = Navaho, a nomadic tribe of Athapascan
                          stock in Arizona.
Na-im-be              = Nambe Pueblo, N. M.
Nahual                = Spirit Ministrant, or unexpressed
                          personal power.
Oj-ke                 = San Juan Pueblo, N. M.
O-ye-tza              = White Ice.
Oh-we-tahnh           = Indian writing. (Pictographs)
P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé       = "The river that is great," Rio
                          Grande.
Po-Ahtun              = An esoteric cult known from N. M.
                          to Central America. The Lords of
                          the Water and the Four Winds.
Po-Ahtun-ho           = The high priest of the order. The
                          spiritual ruler.
Po-se-yemo            = "Dew of Heaven." The earth-born Te-hua Christ.
Povi-whah             = Moving Blossom.
Po-tzah               = White Water.
Po-pe-kan-eh          = "Where the water is born." Springs
                          at the foot of Tse-c[=o]me-[=u]-piñ.
Po-eh-hin-cha         = Santa Clara creek, N. M.
Po-etse               = Box Cañon, Santa Clara Creek.
Po-ho-gé              = San Ildefonso Pueblo, N. M.
Phen-tza              = Yellow Mountain.
Piñ-pe-yé             = An instrument of grooved stone and
                          a reed, by which astronomical calculations
                          were made by the Milky Way and stars.
Pu-yé                 = A cliff dwelling on Santa Clara Reservation, N. M.
Py-otle               = A powerful drug known by Indian
                          medicine men from the great lakes
                          to Yucatan.
Quetzal-coatl         = A God of Light of Mexico.
Qui-ve ra             = A mythic land of gold in the desert.
Queres                = or Que-ran-na. An ancient house
                          building people of N. M. Their
                          principal pueblo is Acoma--"The
                          sky dwellings of White."
Säh-pah               = The Frost.
S[=aa]-hanh-que-ah    = The Woman of the Twilight.
Sea of Cortez         = Gulf of California.
Se-po-chineh          = The Place of Ancient Fire, a sacred
                          mountain, Mt. Taylor, N. M.
Sik-yat-ki            = A ruin in the Tusayan desert, near
                          Walpi, Arizona.
Sten-ahtlihan         = The supreme goddess of the Apache
                          pantheon.
Sinde-hési            = The Ancient Father:--the Power
                          back of the Sun.
Shufinne              = A pre-historic cliff dwelling near
                          Pu-yé, N. M.
So-ho-dah-tsa         = Dark Cloud.
Ta-ah-quea            = The Goddess of the Young Summer.
Tahn-té               = Light of the Sun.
Tain-tsain Clan       = Antelope Clan.
Te-hua                = "Children of the Sun." A house
                          building people of the Tanoan
                          Group, Rio Grande valley, N. M.
Te-get-ha             = Taos Pueblo, N. M. One of the best
                          examples of the terraced, five storied,
                          pre-Columbian architecture,
                          still inhabited.
Tiguex                = A ruin near Bermalillo, N. M., called
                          by the natives Po-ri-kun-neh:--"the
                          Place of the Butterflies."
Te-tzo-ge             = Tesuque Pueblo, N. M.
Tsa-mah               = A Te-hua village at the junction of
                          the Tsa-mah and Rio Grande, now
                          Chamita, N. M., interesting as the
                          site of the first colony of Spanish
                          pioneers in N. M. 1591.
Tsa-fah               = Chicken Hawk.
Tsé-ye                = Cañon de Chelle, Arizona. The home
                          of the Navaho Divine Ones.
Tse-c[=o]me-[=u]-piñ  = A sacred mountain west of Pu-yé, N. M.
Towa Toan Clan        = High Mesa Clan.
Tusayan               = Province of. A territory in Northern
                          Arizona, now the Hopi Indian
                          Reservation.
Tuyo                  = The "Black Mesa" of San Ildefonso, N. M.
Ui-la-ua              = Picuris Pueblo, N. M.
Ua-lano               = Jemez Pueblo, N. M.
Wálpi                 = The ancient stone village of
                          "First Mesa" in Tusayan.
Yahn Tsyn-deh         = Willow Bird.
Yutah                 = Ute, a Colorado tribe of the
                          sone linguistic stock.