CHAPTER VIII
_KIT'S HOME FOLKS_
Kit's greeting to her quiet, undemonstrative father was as effusive ashe would allow it to be. She threw both arms about him with a cry ofjoy but all he said was: "You're home! That's good!" His tall,stooped figure was that of a hard working man, an outdoor man. Hisface bore criss-cross wrinkles stamped by the winds and heat of themountain.
It was from him that Kit had inherited her deep-set brown eyes, hertall, slight body. Father and daughter were very much alike in looksbut her mother had given her a disposition of joyousness that hersilent father admired but utterly lacked.
Kit knew her father's way. She saw the happiness in his eyes and knewthat he had missed her, perhaps even more than her sociable mother haddone. Ma Patten could make friends with everybody who came near, andin that way she had worked off a lot of her loneliness at herdaughter's absence. But Dad Patten confided in no one, not even Maknew what was in his heart.
After the greeting was over the old man turned to the professor andcontinued his conversation without another glance at Kit. One couldsee that the professor and the mountaineer were already friends. Notmany words had passed between them by way of introduction but thevigorous handshake assured the city man that he was welcome, and onlywhen they began to talk of Indians and their ways did Dad Patten speak.The two men were in the middle of a discussion when Kit arrived home.
After a few minutes she disappeared and the next thing the professorsaw was Kit trying to embrace a stout old squaw. But the two yearsseparation from Indian Mary had made Kit a stranger to her, at leastone would judge so by the graven image attitude she put on.
Kit grabbed her by the shoulder. "Now look here, Mary, don't put onany airs with me. Didn't you pretty nearly bring me up? Why, I'malmost like your own child. Tell me, don't you love me almost as muchas you do Young Mary?"
The Indian woman shook her head for no, but Kit laughed. "I don'tbelieve you! You always liked me better than Young Mary.--Where isshe? I brought her something from New York."
"Where? What?" asked Old Mary.
"I want to give it to Young Mary myself. It's so pretty that if yousaw it first you'd never let Mary have it. Where is she?"
"Way off visiting at the reservation. Pretty soon she come home. Lotsof Indians come soon."
"I'm so disappointed," exclaimed Kit. "Here, I brought something foryou, too." And Kit held out a large package.
The old Indian woman unwrapped the large bundle and disclosed a dress.Kit had chosen it with the idea of pleasing her old nurse, who, aboveeverything else, delighted in bright clothes. A pleasing mixture ofreds and yellows; modernistic, they called it in New York, but inArizona it was just plain "Injun Caste."
The old woman gave grunts of satisfaction as she patted the brightcloth, then scurried away to show her treasure to her husband, IndianJoe. He hurried out and shook hands with Kit and beamed on her whenOld Mary displayed her gown. The Indian was more up-to-date than hiswife. He had been to school when young and knew the ways of the whitepeople.
Kit extended a package to Indian Joe.
"Ah!" breathed Mary excitedly when Joe undid the string and she saw apair of comfortable felt slippers. "He like much," she said with a nodof her head.
But when they saw a stranger watching them from the window they becameembarrassed and wanted to hide away until Kit told them that ProfessorGillette was a great friend of the Indians and would want to meet themand get acquainted.
Old Mary shook her head with disapproval. It took her a long time tomake up with strangers. But Joe was different. When Kit told him thatthe professor was going to pitch a tent in the canyon and live therefor the summer, he nodded and said: "Me fix him up. Joe knows where."
And Kit knew by that that Indian Joe and the stranger would be friends.
The professor had studied his Indians well. He waited patiently forthe proper chance to introduce himself. It came the first evening.Joe and Old Mary always built a little bonfire back of their shack andsat around it, as they had done in previous days when outdoor cookingwas their custom. In fact they had never outgrown the habit ofpreparing a meal over the glowing coals.
But on this evening the fire was only to look at. And very quietly theprofessor approached and squatted down beside them. He merely noddedand then stared into the fire as Indian Joe was doing.
This continued for a long time, then the professor got up as quietly,said goodnight and left.
After that Indian Joe and Old Mary were his devoted friends.
The professor returned to the house as pleased as if he had alreadyfound the ancient ruins that he was seeking.
"I'm afraid you can't expect to get much help from the Indians,"remarked Dad Patten. "There's a legend in these mountains to theeffect that Indians massacred a band of white men, and the daughter ofthe old Indian chief cursed her own people. Within a year the tribehad died out or wandered away. The village was deserted. Now thedaughter is supposed to appear at times when there is treachery goingon, a sort of warning to those who are doing wrong."
"That's a good idea," laughed Professor Gillette. "It has probablykept many a man on the straight path."
"Maybe so, but I haven't ever noticed it. There is plenty ofcrookedness goes on in the canyon. And no one, Indian or white man, issafe from the ghost."
"Ah, that's interesting!" exclaimed the professor rubbing his handstogether in his excitement.
"The Mexicans believe it to a man," broke in Kit. "They will hardlycome into the canyon at night, especially if they have anything ontheir conscience. Some white men are afraid of that ghost. Maybe youbelieve in ghosts yourself, Professor Gillette?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But that ghost does complicate matters. TheIndians will not want to give me any information and I had planned tosave time by winning their confidence."
"Don't worry," replied Dad Patten. "Make friends with them and sooneror later they'll let it slip out without meaning to. That is if theyknow anything about a lost village. And truly, Professor, we alwaysthought that was just a lot of silly talk about there being an ancientIndian town near here. I've never seen it and I've never seen anyoneelse who has. So I doubt it."
"We'll see." The professor's eyes were aglow once more at the prospectof finding the ruins and winning glory for himself. "If there is onehere, we'll find it, if it takes all summer. And now I'm very tiredand I'd like to go to bed," he added as simply as a child.
Ma Patten was in her glory. Here was another person for her to mother.And she fluttered around the old man as if he were indeed a child.
Long before daylight the next morning, Professor Gillette was awake andhe waited impatiently for the first sign of life in the house. Itwould never do, he thought, to disturb the family on his first morningin their house.
But he did not have to wait long. Dad Patten was an early riser and atthe first sound the professor was ready to go out in the yard. Here hefound Indian Joe already busy, going doggedly about his work, never ina hurry, never flustered but accomplishing a surprising lot of jobsduring his long day.
He had brought in Kit's horse, a beautiful, dark, slender animal thatpawed the ground and whinneyed impatiently.
Kit slipped from the house with a cry of joy. "Oh, Powder, you dear,dear old thing! I love you! And you'll never know how much I missedyou!"
There was a sparkle in Joe's eye as he hastily put on the saddle whileKit ran into the house for her riding knickers. The professor watchedadmiringly as she swung into the saddle. Then he stood paralyzed withfear as the horse stood straight up on his hind legs, then with asudden spring he reversed his position with his hind legs in the air.
Kit had half expected this performance and had put on spurs which shedug into his sides. Not for a second did she leave the saddle. Shefinally turned the horse's head toward the road and with a prod of thespurs sent the animal down it at a speed that made the professor gaspin fright. Every moment he expected to
see the girl thrown against thejagged rocks at the side of the narrow thoroughfare. But Kit held thereins. Soon she was out of sight and the old man went in search of DadPatten.
"Kit's horse is running away with her," he exclaimed, his handtrembling.
But Dad Patten and Indian Joe merely smiled. "It had to come," saidthe girl's father. "Whenever Kit leaves that horse, even for a week,she has to go through this. Powder wants to be boss and tries to win,but Kit is always master."
"She knows what she's doing," Ma Patten reassured the old man when heexcitedly pointed out Kit far over the mesa, struggling with her ponywho was once more bucking. "Kit has been riding a horse ever since shewas a baby."
Kit returned half an hour later, her cheeks glowing, her eyes dancingwith excitement. And when the professor voiced his fears to her, shereplied: "You know I don't believe that horse would throw me. I thinkhe goes just as far as he knows I can handle him. He's brainy, thatpony! No one knows how I've missed him."
The professor looked at her with the same admiring glance as JimHawkins, the riding master on Campers' Trail, had done. His eyes werenot seeing the fancy riding in quite such a professional manner as Jim,but nevertheless he gloried in the poise and daring of this slight bitof a girl. Things were very different when he was a boy. Then girlsclung like plants and were sheltered.
The professor had never seen such riding and he stood staring over themesa as Kit once more gave her horse the spurs.
In spite of her parents' confidence, he could not believe that Kit hadthe horse under control for the animal raced madly, then suddenlywithout any warning, stopped short and tried by every method known to ahorse, to throw off his burden. He reared, he bucked, he "sun-fished"but all to no avail. The girl stuck to her saddle.
"Won't somebody help her?" the professor prayed desperately. "She willbe killed!"