CHAPTER VI
BILLY STARTS HIS STORY
The next morning found Billy fully dressed and ready to leave beforehis parents were even awake. He could hardly wait for them to be astirand as soon as he heard his mother's step in her room he knocked at thedoor. Mother opened it and stood amazed.
"Why, Billy--at this hour! What do you mean?"
"I'm going out, Mother, and I didn't want to leave before you wereawake."
"But, dear, you can't go so early, and without your breakfast."
"Oh, that's all right. Peanuts and I will go to the Trading Post andget breakfast. You see, Mother, I have to--"
Just then there came a growl from within the room. It came from Father.
"What is the commotion? And at such an hour! Billy, what's theexcitement?"
"Nothing, Father--only it's such a fine morning and I want a ride."
"Let him go, Mother. He is only keeping me from my hard-earned rest.When one works one needs sleep. Billy will never need it!"
Billy was sharp enough to understand his father's words and, smilingshrewdly to himself, he clutched a paper which reposed in his pocket,but he only called out, "Goodby, Father."
His mother kissed him with the parting words: "Do be careful, Billy,and don't go too far."
"No further than usual, Mother," answered Billy.
And then, afraid that Mother might ask something, he ran off, wavinghis hand and sighing a deep sigh of relief.
Billy had spent some restless hours during the night, thinking aboutthe story he was to write. As he was only a little boy and couldn'twrite very well, and as this was his very first story, he was a littlebit afraid of the results.
But the determination to surprise Father and Mother had grown withinhim ever since the idea had come to him yesterday at Bah's home. Fatherthought Billy couldn't do it! Well, he'd show him! He'd listen whileMrs. Fighting Bull told him things, and hadn't he already learned lotsabout them?
BAH'S MOTHER WEAVING NAVAJO BLANKET]
In fact, he'd started his story! He'd started it with a poem (at leasthe thought it a poem) and that is what he clutched in his pocket whenFather chided him. He was going to show it to Bah and her mother.
He was going to ask them what they thought of it and he was going totell them all about the contest, and how he'd planned to win the radiowithout telling his parents!
How astonished they'd be, and how Father would stare when he saw theradio arrive with his son's name engraved thereon--
"Winner of Composition Contest."
His dreams accompanied Billy all the way to the Trading Post. There hehad a hurried breakfast of milk and crackers, allowed Peanuts to grazea bit in the clover, and after buying some funny chocolates in theforms of objects, animals, birds and fishes which he thought wouldamuse Bah, he was off in search of his new-made friends--andinformation.
BAH'S FATHER STRETCHING A SKIN]
Upon arriving at the hogan he found Bah's mother already seated at herloom. Fighting Bull was stretching a goat's skin outside the hogandoor.
After greeting the Indians, Billy looked around for Bah. She wasnowhere to be seen.
"Where's Bah?" he asked of her mother. The woman shook her head, theusual amused smile playing over her features. "Not here."
The Indians had not seemed particularly pleased to see him, he thought,and his heart was beginning to sink. But then Bah's mother pointedtowards the play hogan. "Over there. She play mother and papoose.See?"
With these words, Mrs. Fighting Bull laughed out loud, a sort ofchuckle it was, but nevertheless she did laugh, and Billy feltreassured. He looked and saw Bah.
She was emerging from her play hogan, and there was something on herback. He couldn't tell what it was, but as she approached he saw thatit was a large board with a blanket strapped around it. Something wasin the blanket, and that something was heavy, too, for Bah wasobviously weighted down.
"What's that?" asked Billy, puzzled.
"That my papoose," laughed Bah, and turning her back towards Billy hesaw, strapped cozily to the papoose cradle, a baby sheep! It wasbleating, "Baa, Baa--"
BAH'S PAPOOSE]
"He knows your name," laughed Billy, stroking the small woolly head.
Bah sat down with her burden on her back and Billy sat beside her. TheIndian mother continued to smile to herself as she went on weaving.
"Me glad you come," said Bah, smiling her friendly smile.
"Are you?" questioned Billy. "I couldn't wait to get here. You know,I've started to write a story--a real story like Father writes. It'sgoing to be all about you!"
"Me?" the little girl pointed to herself. She realized that this wassomething important, for the white boy was excited and although theaffair was very vague to her, she mustered up the enthusiasm necessary.
"I've written a poem to start it with. Want to hear it?"
"Oh, yes," Bah's eyes grew big. Just what a poem was didn't matter. Itwas important to know that Billy had written one. So he read--
"Bah, Bah Indian girl, Have you any bread? Yes sir, yes sir, That's what I was fed. When I was a papoose I cried to my ma, So she gave me bread, And now my name is 'Bah'!"
There was a loud explosion from the corner where Mrs. Fighting Bull wasweaving. Billy's face grew red. Mrs. Fighting Bull was laughing at him.Oh, now he knew he must have done something wrong!
The Indian woman composed herself and beckoning the boy over, shesaid: "You write good words. Tell me more."
Billy had a great deal to learn about Indians; he was beginning torealize that. Evidently Bah's mother was kindly disposed towards himbut she had a queer way of laughing at everything, which was hard forBilly to understand.
Still, he thought, it was better to laugh at everything than to becross and angry. Mrs. Fighting Bull was a jolly woman, that was all,and Billy moved up close to her and smiled up into her face.
"Gee, I'm glad you like it. I thought, when you laughed, you weremaking fun of me. You see, I never wrote anything before, and thisstory has just got to be good, because----"
And then he told Bah and her mother of his desire to win the contestand the prize attached to it.
"You like I tell you more?" asked the Indian woman.
"That's just what I'd like to have you do, if you would," answered theboy writer.
"Well, I tell you."
With no more ado, Mrs. Fighting Bull started talking as Billy sat andlistened to her words.