at him in surprise. He was arguing, and without looking at him, the seated men listened, and as they listened they smoked from one pipe that was slowly being passed from right to left.
Her captor plainly grew enraged at what this man was saying, and again Maria saw the killing wrath come to his face. She shrank against the wall, but her captor jerked her roughly back to him, and she stayed by his side, looking at the seated men fearfully. Her assailant at the meadow finished speaking, and then there was long silence.
The fire burned steadily in front of them all, and wearily Maria moved her weight from one foot to the other. She noticed that the fire pit was neatly lined with stones; that the interior wall of the lodge was covered with cowskins upon which were painted crude scenes of battle; she saw that the lodge was so large that the fire did not light its shadowed corners. Her captor now began to speak, and for the first time the eyes of the seated men swung to her. She was the subject of this conversation—this bitter argument!
Directly across from the doorway they had entered sat a man who held her gaze. She had been mistaken in believing her captor to be a tribal chief; clearly here was the leader of these Indians. There was a familiarity about him that Maria could not place, and she met his searching gaze and was struck more and more by it. Where could she have seen this man before? He was probably in his early fifties. He wore his hair long; it was streaked with gray and fell unbound to his shoulders except for one lock, about two inches in width, that was cut short at the bridge of his nose. He was very large, muscular, and flat bellied. He had the body of a much younger man; it was only his gray hair that made him look older. His eyes were fierce in their pride—but his mouth—his lips—and … Startled, Maria glanced swiftly from him to her captor, and then knew that these two men were father and son.
As his son talked, the father still watched her intently. How was she so positive that he was the tribal chief? Only an elaborate necklace of elk teeth and bear claws, and the way he wore his hair, distinguished him from the others. Yet it was the dignity, the awful dignity and pride, and a majesty that even his son did not yet have, that made her know. She was spellbound by the eyes. In them she saw truth, the answer to questions unknown, and there was temperance, and Maria felt safety in his presence. She sighed, breathing more quietly, and then the chief looked away from her at last, but the glances of the others still remained. The son had finished speaking, and again came the silence, with the pipe still wordlessly passed from one seated man to the other.
The fire shrank in size, and fell to hissing at a wet piece of wood. It hissed like an old witch whispering of dark nights and evil winds, and then it bit into a pitch pocket and spewed venom out in a scalding stream of pitch. It leaped brightly into new life, and having devoured the pitch, sank back and resumed its monotonous hissing at the water spot.
Maria felt pains of fatigue. She had ridden over twenty hours without sleep and she despaired for rest. Each of the seated men spoke directly to her captor, and when they had finished, the father nodded in agreement. The Indian who had been arguing before them shouted angrily. Her captor leaped at him in a fury. “Nakoa!” the chief called sternly, and her captor reluctantly and slowly released the man he had again attacked. Mother of God, these two were fighting over her! She saw in humiliation that every man in the room was looking at her, and finally the chief motioned for his son to take her from the tipi.
Outside the night air was cold and blew her hair back from her damp forehead. The Indian signed for her to mount the bay again, but she could not. She pressed her head weakly against the animal. “I am sick!” she whispered. “Estse no stum,” she repeated in his tongue.
He lifted her upon
Her captor plainly grew enraged at what this man was saying, and again Maria saw the killing wrath come to his face. She shrank against the wall, but her captor jerked her roughly back to him, and she stayed by his side, looking at the seated men fearfully. Her assailant at the meadow finished speaking, and then there was long silence.
The fire burned steadily in front of them all, and wearily Maria moved her weight from one foot to the other. She noticed that the fire pit was neatly lined with stones; that the interior wall of the lodge was covered with cowskins upon which were painted crude scenes of battle; she saw that the lodge was so large that the fire did not light its shadowed corners. Her captor now began to speak, and for the first time the eyes of the seated men swung to her. She was the subject of this conversation—this bitter argument!
Directly across from the doorway they had entered sat a man who held her gaze. She had been mistaken in believing her captor to be a tribal chief; clearly here was the leader of these Indians. There was a familiarity about him that Maria could not place, and she met his searching gaze and was struck more and more by it. Where could she have seen this man before? He was probably in his early fifties. He wore his hair long; it was streaked with gray and fell unbound to his shoulders except for one lock, about two inches in width, that was cut short at the bridge of his nose. He was very large, muscular, and flat bellied. He had the body of a much younger man; it was only his gray hair that made him look older. His eyes were fierce in their pride—but his mouth—his lips—and … Startled, Maria glanced swiftly from him to her captor, and then knew that these two men were father and son.
As his son talked, the father still watched her intently. How was she so positive that he was the tribal chief? Only an elaborate necklace of elk teeth and bear claws, and the way he wore his hair, distinguished him from the others. Yet it was the dignity, the awful dignity and pride, and a majesty that even his son did not yet have, that made her know. She was spellbound by the eyes. In them she saw truth, the answer to questions unknown, and there was temperance, and Maria felt safety in his presence. She sighed, breathing more quietly, and then the chief looked away from her at last, but the glances of the others still remained. The son had finished speaking, and again came the silence, with the pipe still wordlessly passed from one seated man to the other.
The fire shrank in size, and fell to hissing at a wet piece of wood. It hissed like an old witch whispering of dark nights and evil winds, and then it bit into a pitch pocket and spewed venom out in a scalding stream of pitch. It leaped brightly into new life, and having devoured the pitch, sank back and resumed its monotonous hissing at the water spot.
Maria felt pains of fatigue. She had ridden over twenty hours without sleep and she despaired for rest. Each of the seated men spoke directly to her captor, and when they had finished, the father nodded in agreement. The Indian who had been arguing before them shouted angrily. Her captor leaped at him in a fury. “Nakoa!” the chief called sternly, and her captor reluctantly and slowly released the man he had again attacked. Mother of God, these two were fighting over her! She saw in humiliation that every man in the room was looking at her, and finally the chief motioned for his son to take her from the tipi.
Outside the night air was cold and blew her hair back from her damp forehead. The Indian signed for her to mount the bay again, but she could not. She pressed her head weakly against the animal. “I am sick!” she whispered. “Estse no stum,” she repeated in his tongue.
He lifted her upon
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