Star

The first streak of dawn was turning the sky from gray to pale pink as Star lifted his head and looked sleepily at the twelve hundred Comanche ponies stretched on the ground around him.

Farther away were many tepees made from buffalo skins, but only the wolf-dogs, curled in holes they had dug near the tepees, showed that the camp was not deserted. Star knew that the Comanche braves, squaws, and papooses would soon awaken and come out wrapped in blankets which had been woven by the squaws and dyed in bright colours made from roots and berries.

One tepee, larger than the others, belonged to Quannah, Chief of the Quahada Comanches, and Star looked at it as he recalled the story his mother, Running Deer, had told him many times while they grazed side by side or rested on the banks of the creek near the camp. Star loved Quannah, but more than all else he loved Quannah's little daughter, Songbird, for she was Star's mistress. He remembered the day when he had been too tiny and weak to stand up, and Quannah, with Songbird, had stooped to pat Running Deer's colt.

"We will name him Star," the chief had spoken. "He belongs to you, as his mother belongs to me, and as his mother's mother belonged to my father. Swift, sure, and strong, they have been worthy to carry the Chiefs of the Quahadas."

So the colt understood the honour given his mother and the honour that was to be his when he was big enough to be ridden. And the tale his mother told many times never wearied him.

"My mother told me the tale," she would always begin, "and now that she is dead I tell it to you. When I am dead, you shall tell it to other ponies, so that it may be remembered as long as Comanche herds wander over the plains.

"The squaws tell their papooses the great deeds of their forefathers, that none will forget, that the young boys may become great warriors, while the girls grow to be worthy squaws and train their own sons to live with honour. So I, too, tell the story of our part in the life of our great Chief and his Pale-face Mother, as my mother told it to me, long ago, before you were born.

"When she was a very young mare, the swiftest racer of all the Comanche ponies, our tribe wandered long distances over plains covered with grass knee-high. Vast herds of buffaloes and thousands of beautiful antelopes shared the prairie lands with us. When the tepees were set up there were so many that they reached out like stars covering the sky at night. Our pony herd was so large that each brave owned many ponies, and he who owned the most ponies was the richest man of all.

"The Comanches could not live without us. It needs a swift, sure-footed pony to follow the antelope near enough to send an arrow to its heart as it runs. You know, as well as I, that antelope meat must be brought to the camp to feed the women and children. Because the Comanches are such great hunters, other tribes call them the 'Antelope Eaters.' And from the hundreds of buffaloes ranging on the plains, our warriors obtain hides for clothing, for warm robes and to make tepees that will defy the cold winds and snows that rush upon them from the place where the Great White Spirit of Winter dwells.

"Without good ponies the Comanches would be cold and hungry, as you must see. And so we are honoured by the warriors and loved by the women and children for whom we provide food and shelter. When the enemies of the tribe come against us in battle, the ponies share the dangers with their owners. None of us has ever been vanquished. Ponies have died beside their masters, but have never deserted them. When a warrior dies, his favourite pony dies with him, that the warrior may ride it in the Happy Hunting Grounds to which he and it have journeyed through the Land of Shadows. There they are happy together. That is a great honour, but the greatest honour of all is to be the favourite pony of the Chief."

"Like you!" interrupted Star with a proud toss of his head as he glanced at other colts whose mothers belonged to men who were not chiefs.

"Like me and like my mother," Running Deer never failed to answer. "Lie down beside me while I tell you the tale again, so that you will make no mistake in telling it to other ponies when you are old and others have forgotten it all."

Star settled himself comfortably at her side, and as she talked, he nipped daintily at bits of tender grass which made a soft bed beneath over-hanging branches of a tall tree.

* * *

"Long before I was born," began Running Deer, "the warriors of our tribe wove bits of red cloth into the manes and tails of their ponies. Each warrior, decked in brightest blankets and with war-bonnets of eagle feathers that bound their heads, fell over their shoulders, then trailed almost to the ground, rode rapidly across the prairie with their quivers full of sharply pointed arrows.

"White-faced men had come on the land of the Comanches and were taking possession of our hunting grounds. So word was brought to camp for our fighting men to go out and protect the game that belonged to the Indians. The Great Spirit put the game on the prairies that the Comanches and other Indians might use it for food.

"Like leaves swept by fierce winds the warriors rushed onward. Peta Nocona, the old chief's young son, rode my mother at the head of the Quahadas. He was almost a child in years, but a man in daring, and often the chief gave him the honour of leading the warriors. All at once in the distance a few specks caught his keen eyes, and he drew my mother's reins, while all the Comanches halted to talk. Then each warrior leaned down against the shoulder of his pony, and they raced until they had formed a large circle around the moving spots. Gradually closing about them, Peta Nocona led his men.

"My mother said that those in the centre greeted them. It was Pa-ha-u-ka's band, and with them were a boy and a girl with white skins, who looked at the Comanches in fear. The girl's hair was long and gold like the arrows of the sun, her eyes were like the summer sky, her skin like untrodden snow.

"The son of our chief rode to her side, and when she shrank back in fear, he smiled and told her that no harm should come to her. She did not understand his words, for she spoke in a strange tongue, but she did understand his kindly eyes and voice and smile. So she made no struggle when he lifted her from the arms of the warrior who was holding her. Placing her before him on my mother's back, he held her carefully until they reached our camp."

"Did the white boy come, too?" asked Star as Running Deer paused to take a bite of grass.

"My mother said that the boy did not come into our camp and she did not know where he went. Part of the Comanches, who belonged to Pa-ha-u-ka's band, followed another trail and were gone a long time. But the little white girl was not unhappy, for she had our chief's son as her companion. We called her Preloch. All the care that would have been given to the daughter of our chief was given to her until she reached womanhood. Then she and the chief's son, Peta Nocona, were married with great feasting and dancing that lasted many days, and everyone was very happy for they all loved her and the chief's young son.

"When the old chief, worn with the weight of many winters, slept with his forefathers, the young chief ruled in his place. There was much rejoicing when a son was born to Peta Nocona and his golden-haired squaw, Preloch. They called him Quannah, which, as you know, means 'Fragrant.' Later a little daughter came to them, and her name was Prairie Flower, for she was so pale and delicate that it seemed as though a rough hand could crush her, or a strong wind carry her away on its breast. The warriors honoured and obeyed Peta Nocona, who became a great War Chief, and the women, children, and ponies loved his white squaw, Preloch, for her gentle ways. Wherever he went, she rode at his side, her baby daughter clasped in her arms, while little Quannah followed closely behind on his pony, often shooting arrows as he rode.

"The young chief had given my mother, Blackbird, to Preloch, and I was a colt, past two years old, when white men found our camp. I do not know just what happened, for in the darkness of night Gray Beard, Big Wolf, and Spotted Leopard led me into a strange place among great trees, and there we found Quannah waiting us. They spoke earnestly to him, then he leaped to my back and we dashed away.

"For many days we were alone, except when a warrior came and sat talking gravely. I heard Karolo, the Medicine Man, tell Quannah one day, that the white men had taken Preloch and Prairie Flower away with them. Then he told that his mother had sent a message, bidding her son remain with his father's people and rule them wisely and justly. She did not want to leave her son and the Comanche people whom she loved so much, but she had been made a prisoner by the white men and they were taking her and her baby away to their own homes."

"Why?" asked Star, wonderingly.

"I do not know," answered Running Deer. "I am telling the story as it all happened. How could an Indian pony understand the white man's ways, when the wise men of the tribe did not understand? My mother told me the story of the little white girl, and I heard what the old warriors said to Quannah while we hid in the mountains; but I do know that neither Preloch nor Prairie Flower ever came back to us again, and Quannah never saw them again.

"That is all I know. Quannah rode me back to camp and when you were born he gave you to Songbird. You must serve her as faithfully as I have served him, and as my mother, before me, served his father, Peta Nocona. The big chiefs also told Quannah that his father, Peta Nocona, had been killed by the white men as he stood, wounded, against a tree, singing the Death Song of the Quahada Comanches. So Quannah, his son, became our chief."

Star thought about the story as he lay beside his mother, and he felt very sure that he would not make any error in telling it when he had grown old. The sun peeped over the edge of the world and shot a golden arrow of light into the pony's eyes, to warn him and the other ponies that it was time to roll and get up.

It was not an easy thing to roll over. Star had tried it many times, for his mother had told him that when a pony could roll completely over the first thing in the morning, it was the sign he was very strong. So now he stiffened his muscles and tried it, but only got partly over. Again he tried and failed. But the third time he turned completely over, and full of pride, leaped to his feet. Then he leaned down and nipped his mother, who blinked up at him.

"I did it!" he bragged, tossing his head so that the thick black mane waved like a flag. "Mother, I rolled all the way over, this morning."

"I knew you would do it," she answered proudly as she scrambled up hastily. "Now you can carry a man."

The two ponies saw the flap of Quannah's tepee lifted, and their ears cocked sharply. A little girl, about six years old, with large dark eyes, long glossy braids hanging to her waist, and clothed in a garment of buckskin, with moccasins of buckskin on her feet, stood in the opening of the tepee.

"Star!" she called softly yet clearly.

The pony answered with a low nicker of delight, tossed his shaggy mane, kicked his hind heels and galloped to her side, where he bent his head that she might pet his nose and pull his ears gently, while his eyes told her how much he loved her.

* * *

Ever since Star had been strong enough to bear Songbird's weight on his back, they had wandered together near the camp. Sometimes they climbed the steep mountains so that they could look down on the tepees which seemed only tiny white spots; or they raced after a coyote across the prairie, and again they moved more slowly beside the streams where they could see silvery fish darting from one deep pool to another.

Always Star watched carefully that he might not step on a loose rock, or into a prairie-dog hole. That would make him stumble and throw his little mistress, and Star's mother had warned him of the danger. Many times they paused beside the stream so that Star could thrust his velvety nose into the cool ripples, while Songbird, higher up the creek, would lie flat, face downward, and touch the water with her lips.

At times she would sit in the shade of a tree near the stream and Star would lie down beside her. Then she would pluck wild flowers and weave them into his mane and make a wreath of them for her head, while she told the pony that the big, white clouds drifting slowly over them were the tepees of great warriors who had gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds, where they rode their favourite ponies all day long. But when the Spirit of the Sun rode over the edge of the world at night, the warriors followed him that the Spirit of Darkness might not overtake them, and the clouds followed after them.

One morning Songbird came to him and said, "There is a long journey for you to-day."

As she patted his neck, he noticed unusual excitement in the camp. The warriors were gathering the pony herd instead of letting it wander to graze until night. Men were rushing about, and the squaws were taking down many tepees. Some of the men were helping them roll things in buffalo robes which they tied with long thongs cut from cured hides. Then these bundles were placed on the backs of pack-ponies and fastened so that they could not slip off. Even the children were helping instead of playing about.

Quannah was directing everything while he stood near his tepee, a short distance from Songbird and Star. At last the packing ended and the warriors, mounted on their best ponies, moved slowly away from camp, while behind them came extra ponies and then, still farther behind, trotted the pack-ponies.

As Star watched, wondering what it all meant, an Indian led Running Deer to Quannah. The chief spoke hastily yet tenderly to Songbird, who listened seriously to his words. Then Quannah sprang to Running Deer's back.

Songbird slipped her arms about Star's neck and he felt her soft lips touch the white spot in the middle of his forehead. He was a jet-black pony except for this white mark which formed a perfect star, and which was almost hidden by the heavy forelock of hair that dangled to his eyes.

Quannah sat on the back of Running Deer, and watched Songbird, who turned suddenly and spoke.

"I have no brother! Let me go with you?"

"You must stay here with the women and children," Star heard the chief reply. "We go to meet men. It is safe here for the women and children. You must stay with them until I return."

The pony saw that all the Comanche herd was moving away from the camp, and he turned quickly to his mother.

"Must I stay, too?" he asked anxiously.

"No," she replied, "you go with me, so that Quannah may ride you to rest my back on the journey. It will be hard riding for many long days. We go to fight the white men and if we find them, many warriors and ponies may never come back. You are old enough and strong enough now to do your part in the work of the Comanche ponies. Come, keep beside me and I will tell you what to do."

Star felt very proud and important as he trotted at his mother's side, but he could not help twisting his neck to look back now and then at his little mistress who stood alone in front of the big tepee of the chief. He saw her stretch out her arms toward her father, but Quannah did not see her do it. Suddenly she drew a corner of her blanket over her head, so that her face was hidden that none might see her grief; then she turned into the tepee and the flap closed.

While Star had been watching all this, the other ponies had moved past him, and he heard his mother calling angrily, urging him to hurry to her side. She was in the lead. Far ahead of Star the ponies were moving swiftly. Some carried packs, others bore warriors, and the unmounted ponies of the herd were kept from straying by warriors who rode on either side. Not one Comanche pony had been left in the camp where the women and children now remained. It was all very strange. Star galloped to his mother knowing she could explain everything, for she was a very wise pony and the favourite of the chief. She was very angry, and snapped at his shoulder when he reached her side.

"You are disgracing me when you lag at the back of the herd. You belong at the front of it, with me. The chief's pony travels ahead of all the others."

"Where are we going?" he asked after a short silence.

"I do not know," she answered, still angry. "That does not concern either of us. When the chief speaks no one questions and all obey. He gives orders to the warriors and they do his bidding. He moves his hand and I obey the rein. That is all I know. Ponies do not need to know anything else. Your duty now is to follow me and keep at my side, so that you may be near if I fall or am hurt or weary. Then Quannah will ride you."

As they travelled many miles, Star kept closely beside his mother, but he could not forget Songbird and how she had held out her arms, then with covered face had gone alone into the big tepee of her father, the Chief of the Quahada Comanches.

* * *