CHAPTER VII
ALL ABOUT THE INDIANS
The Navajo Indians live in hogans. That, you already have heard--andyou know what a hogan looks like. But all Indian tribes do not use thesame kind of dwelling places.
The Pueblo, Hopi and other peaceful tribes live in what are calledpueblos. They are houses built of adobe and they are built to resemblea child's stone blocks when he has piled one on top of the other. Toreach the top of a pueblo one must climb the ladders which are set upagainst the outside of the building.
The Pueblo villages are different from the Navajo villages. They arecomposed of long rows of these pinkish adobe block houses, and theIndian tribes who live therein are, as I have said, peaceful.
Can you imagine why, being as they are of a peaceful nature, thesetribes build as they do? It is so that they can be protected fromwarlike tribes, in their many storied houses. Then, too, the tribeswhich build pueblos do not wander, as the warlike tribes do. Thepueblos are stationary, and they are built to be permanent homes. Theyare built, mainly, by the women and children, who do all the manualwork--while the men often sit at home weaving garments and knittingstockings.
THE PIPE OF PEACE]
The tepees are the abode of warlike Indians, such as the Sioux,Apaches, etc. They wander and so they build temporary dwellings which,at a moment's notice, may be transported quickly and easily from onelocation to another.
In the East there are other Indian tribes, and also in Canada. Then, inMexico, the Indians build straw huts.
There are hundreds of tribes of Indians and each tribe has a differentlanguage. That is why the sign language came into existence. It is usedwhen a member of one tribe meets a member of another tribe. They cannotunderstand each other's language, so they talk with their hands.
When the Indian chiefs gather they smoke the pipe of peace. This isusually done to celebrate some victory, or upon the occasion of a visitfrom a member of another tribe.
The men sit around a fire in a circle and pass the long pipe from oneto the other. As each man receives it he utters a sound or nods hishead, proceeds to take a puff, and passes it to his neighbor. It is alldone silently and quietly, but there is a wealth of meaning in thisvery solemn performance.
THE FIRE MAKER]
The Indians, in older days, made fire entirely by friction. By therubbing together of two pieces of wood, most of the tribes caused fireto appear--but some had elaborate devices made of wood and string. TheNavajos used a thin pole which they twirled around by using a stringtied to a stick.
Today, the Indians use matches just as we do, but most families stillkeep their fire-makers.
The Navajos do not use feathers and do not make chiefs by crowningthem. But many of the other tribes create their chiefs by placing thecrown of tall feathers, which you have often seen in pictures, upon thehead of the "brave," and saying "I make you 'Big Chief Flying Eagle,'"or whatever the name may be.
CROWNING A BIG CHIEF]
The eagle is much venerated by the Indians. We have seen how Bah used aprayer stick made of an eagle feather.
In the Eagle Dance, the dancer paints his body red, black and white,and wears a dance skirt and bonnet of eagle feathers.
The dance is performed as a ceremonial, mostly as a plea for rain. Thedancers imitate almost every movement of the great eagle. They soar,they hover as an eagle would hover over the fields. They spread theirwings and move about in a great circle.
This and the Sun Dance are the two most important and interestingdances of the Indians; the Sun Dance is performed in the spring,celebrating the return of the growing season, and the growth of thecorn.
"Oh, I hope I can remember all that," sighed Billy, when Mrs. FightingBull finished talking.
She turned to her weaving without answering him, and he turned to Bah,saying: "Come, Bah! Let us play over at your hogan and you pretend tomake me a Big Chief!"
"Yes, come," said Bah, rising.
They started over to their play house. From out the play hogan Bahpulled forth some Navajo blankets and then they both set to work tomake a feather crown. Having no feathers (the Navajos not using them)they made their crown of branches.
It was a large and weighty object when they finished with it and Billywas, indeed, a queer sight when Bah placed it upon his head. The bigblanket was wrapped about him, and from beneath the crown peered hisfreckled face. With all due ceremony Bah raised her eyes to heaven andchanted: "I make you Big Chief Spots-In-The-Face!"
It was a very serious moment for them. Billy had become a chief, andhis next move was to propose the smoking of the pipe of peace. From hispocket Billy pulled a chocolate pipe. It was done up in silver paper.Bah was impressed as he carefully unwrapped and handed it to her.
"You smoke first," he said.
She took it in her hands and putting it to her mouth pretended to drawin the smoke. She handed it to Billy, but he proceeded to bite out apiece, much to the astonishment of his playmate, who stared at him inwonderment.
BAH AND BILLY SMOKE THE PIPE OF PEACE]
"You do that, too, Bah, it's good," Billy mumbled with his mouth full.
Bah shrank back. "No, me no eat pipe, me smoke!"
Billy couldn't help laughing.
"Oh, but this isn't a real pipe--it's chocolate!"
Still Bah was reluctant to try.
"Well," said Billy, digging into his pocket for the rest of the candy."Here's another, the same--only it's not in the shape of a pipe. Tryit."
Bah took the candy and looked at it.
"Fish!" she gasped and dropped it.
"Well, what's the matter with that?" asked Billy, greatly disturbed byher evident horror.
"Bah no eat fish. No Navajo eat fish!" "Tell me why," said Billy, nowamused and interested.
Bah did not answer, but pointed over to her mother. She hung her headshyly. Billy didn't like to press her, so, dragging his blanket, andwith his crown over one ear, he stumbled over to the loom and stoodbefore Mrs. Fighting Bull with the query: "Why don't Navajos likefish?"
Mrs. Fighting Bull did not smile, for once, and replied: "Not becauseno like! No eat because ancestors once turned into fish. If Navajo eatfish, he eat ancestor!"
Satisfied with this explanation, Billy thanked her and trotted back tohis friend. "I understand now, Bah," he said. "But you see this isn't areal fish, it's candy! You try."
He held it up to her, but he could see how she shrank from the thoughtof eating anything that was even the shape of fish. So he picked out abird and gave it to her. After she had sampled the chocolate she wasdelighted to finish the whole piece, and when that was eaten, she said:"Now me smoke pipe of peace."
"Yes," said Billy, "and this time you'll eat a piece of the pipe, won'tyou?"
He laughed loudly at his own joke, but Bah was too absorbed in her newfound game. When Billy reached for the pipe, expecting to receive itfor his turn, he saw that the little girl had put the whole pipe intoher mouth and was munching the chocolate, her cheeks puffed out and atwinkle in her eye! Billy stared in surprise.
"Why, Bah, you bad girl. You ate up all the pipe!"
But they soon found another game to replace the "Peace Pipe" and playedtogether happily until it was time for Billy to go home.
Before leaving he remembered that he had not thanked the Indian womanfor telling him so much of interest. He ran back to where she wassitting, and, drawing from his pocket the chocolate candies, he offeredthem to her, saying: "Thanks so much for your nice story. Won't youhave some candy?"
She took some and smiled at him. Then she said: "Write nice story aboutIndians. All white men no think Indians good."
Billy was puzzled for a moment to know what she meant. Then it dawnedupon him that the Indians were often spoken of as cruel and savage.Well, he'd "tell the world" in his story that this family was kind andcivilized. He said: "Oh, yes, I'll say everything I think about you,and that will be good!"
Then, suddenly bethinking himself of a word he'd once heard, he asked:"Isn
't an Indian woman called a 'Squaw'?"
Bah's mother shook her head and a slight frown--the first Billy hadseen--appeared between her eyes.
THE "SQUAWKER"]
"No. Indian woman no like to be called Squaw! Not very nice! Inreservation she fight when man call that!"
"Well, I'll remember and never use the word 'Squaw' again," promisedBilly.
Just then an Indian mother appeared in the doorway of her hogan. Thepapoose upon her back was crying loudly, and Billy looked roguishly atMrs. Fighting Bull and asked: "Is the baby called a 'Squawker'?"
CHAPTER VIII
WHO WINS THE RADIO?
For many days Billy worked diligently at his composition. He took careto do his writing away from home, as he cherished the thought ofsurprising Mother and Father.
Then, too, he had conceived another idea. It happened to pop into hishead one evening when he was returning from Bah's home. It was such agood idea that he wondered he hadn't thought of it before.
And so, as I have said, he worked, and no one but Peanuts knew what hewas doing, and Peanuts was sworn to secrecy. As he would prepare toleave his secluded spot out on the prairie where he did his writing,Billy would say to Peanuts: "Now, we'll never say a word! We'll keepthis to ourselves, won't we?"
FOR DAYS BILLY WORKED ON HIS STORY]
And Peanuts was most agreeable. Why not? The days had been pleasuresince his master had decided to allow him to graze all day long insteadof asking him to gallop over the plains. Yes, indeed, the plan suitedPeanuts down to the ground (where, by the way, he constantly kept hisnose.)
Billy's nose was buried in his writing and he chewed the pencil assteadily as Peanuts chewed the dry nourishment he found. But at lastthe task was over, the manuscript sent in to the magazine, and Billywas again paying his respects to the Fighting Bull family. Peanuts wasthe only regretful one when the story was finished, and sent away.Billy sighed a sigh of relief and the first day that he put in anappearance at the hogan, Bah squealed with joy to see him returning.
Many happy days ensued, in which the Indian girl showed the boy newgames and ways of playing which she, little lonely one, had devised byherself.
Each evening Billy would come home with the same question on his lips:"Has my magazine arrived?"
But New York is a long way from Arizona, and it was many weeks beforethe magazine, in which the winning story was to appear, at last came.
It was one evening after Billy had had a particularly exciting daychasing buffaloes (in the form of tame sheep) with Bah, that he camehome to find his magazine awaiting him. It had not been opened and waslying on his little desk. It was addressed to him--and inside itwas--maybe--his story! He longed to find out, but he couldn't move hisfingers to open the wrapper.
He suddenly grew hot all over and realized then how he longed to seethat story inside those covers. If he had been an Indian instead of awhite boy he would have made a prayer stick and prayed via the eaglefeather to the Great Father.
The next morning Father and Mother found Billy curled up in a big chairin the living room poring over his magazine. They could not see hisface.
Father took up his paper, but before starting to read he remarked:"Who's the lucky winner of the radio, Son?"
Billy did not answer, but arose from his chair and brought the magazineover, to Father. Father glanced at the page with a wicked smile, andremarked: "Needless to say, it wasn't a chap named William!"
Billy, his head drooping, left the room, and Mother felt sorry for him.So did Father. In fact I think Father was sorry for what he had said,as he got up and called him back.
It was then that Billy told Father what he had done--all about it fromthe first day that the idea had occurred to him until the moment whenhe had, with trembling fingers, opened the magazine and found....
"You're a good boy, Bill," said Father, "and I've been wronging you."
Mother was about to make a fuss over him, so, allowing her only timeenough for one kiss, he grabbed his hat. Then with the parting words,"I'm going to see the Fighting Bulls--goodbye," he made a dash for thedoor.
"Some day maybe you'll take me, Bill," called Father after him, "I'dlike to meet the Fighting Bulls, and their calf. She must be a smartlittle kid!"
Then the parents looked at each other and Mother's eyes were just alittle bit dewy. She smiled and shook her finger at Father: "I knowanother Fighting Bull," she said.
"Yes, dear," said Father humbly, "and he has a splendid and pluckylittle calf!"
At the hogan there was much excitement. As Peanuts came galloping downthe village "street" his rider saw a most unusual sight.
Chief Fighting Bull, his wife and small daughter were all grouped aboutan object which seemed to be attracting them. So much did it attractthem that they were talking in Navajo faster and louder than Billy hadever heard them talk.
The boy jumped down from his pony and walked up to the family circle.He saw that the object of their interest was a large wooden expressbox, and written across it were the words:
"Bah, The Little Indian Weaver, Daughter of Chief Fighting Bull, Navajo Reservation, near Tuba, Arizona."
"IS IT FOR ME?"]
"This came today," said the Chief to Billy, and Bah held up an envelopewhich she clutched in her hand.
"And see--letter to Bah."
Billy asked: "Why don't you open it?"
"Yes, will do," replied the girl. At the same time as Bah and Billywere opening the letter, the Chief, aided by his wife, was opening thelarge box.
"You read letter for me, please," smiled Bah.
Billy took the letter--but just then the box was opened and inside itthe astonished family beheld a radio!
"What this?" asked Fighting Bull.
Said Billy wisely: "It's a radio--you know, you can listen to musicand everything. It's lots of fun. Come on, we'll fix it up!"
"WITHOUT YOU I COULDN'T HAVE WRITTEN IT."]
With Billy's instructions the Chief set up the radio. It was a portableset and as soon as they attached the aerial and Billy turned the dialsthe sound of fine music began to float on the air.
"Alive!" shrieked Bah, turned on her heels, and fled!
Billy, still holding the unopened letter, ran after her. He found herhidden in a thicket and brought her back to her parents, who stoodtransfixed before the radio, which was still sending forth music.
"Don't be afraid, Bah," said Billy. "It's not this box making thenoise. The music comes through the air from a big city!"
The Chief and his wife were almost as impressed as Bah, but they didnot show their feelings. They could only stand and stare while Billy,holding on to Bah with one hand for fear that she would run awayagain, read the following letter:
"Dear Little Bah:
Your story 'The Little Indian Weaver,' written by yourself about yourself, has won the Composition Contest. The prize, a radio, we are sending you today. It was a great pleasure to receive such a charming little story from a real Indian girl. The white children who read it will, we are sure, enjoy it, and learn a great deal from you. Thank you, and we hope you will like the radio!
The Children's Magazine."
"But--but," said Bah, "I not write story!"
Billy put his arm around her shoulders and smiling down at her said:"No, but I sent it in your name because if it hadn't been for you andyour mother and father I never could have written it!"
"I PUT INDIAN FLAG ON MY SINGING BOX."]
As the strains of music floated through the air, attracting the sheepfrom the prairie, two dreamy children sat beside the radio, which wasperched on the top of a packing box, and listened eagerly.
THE WHITE CHILD LOVES HIS INDIAN FRIENDS]
Bah had outgrown her fear of the "Singing Box" as she called the radio,and each day she and Billy would enjoy songs and music from thecity--strange sounds, some of them, to the little Indian girl.
But to Billy it had become a greater joy than he e
ver had anticipatedto watch her rapture with the new toy.
One day he found a stick with feathers stuck on top of the radio, andhe asked her what it meant.
"Bah put flag on Singing Box. That is Indian flag!"
Billy never ceased learning about the Indians, their customs and theirinteresting ways.
Perhaps the Fighting Bulls also were learning. They learned what manyIndians do not know--that the white child loves his brother--the firstAmerican.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Page 85: Possibly missing "second" before "time" in the sentence: "That's the time you fooled me!" said he.
Page 90: Retained "Goodby" but possibly a typo for "goodbye." (he only called out, "Goodby, Father.")
Page 123: Retained "poring" but possibly a typo for "pouring." (Billy curled up in a big chair in the living room poring over his)
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