the heritage of the sioux-第15节

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for　her。　She　forgot　his　harshness　because　he　thought　her　disobedient　and

wicked。　She　forgot　that　she　loved　Ramon　Chavez；　and　that　he　was　rich　and　would

give　her　a　fine　home　and　much　love。　She　forgot　everything　but　that　she　had

sworn　an　oath　and　that　she　must　keep　it　though　it　killed　faith　and　kindness

and　friendship　as　with　a　knife。



So　she　wailed；　in　high…keyed；　minor　chanting　unearthly　in　its　primitive

inarticulateness　of　sorrow；　the　chant　of　the　Omaha　mourning　song。　So　had　her

tribe　wailed　in　the　olden　days　when　warriors　returned　to　the　villages　and　told

of　their　dead。　So　had　her　mother　wailed　when　the　Great　Spirit　took　away　her

first　man…child。　So　had　the　squaws　wailed　in　their　tepees　since　the　land　was

young。　And　the　little　black　dog；　sitting　on　his　haunches　before　her　door；

pointed　his　moist　nose　into　the　sunlight　and　howled　in　mournful　sympathy。



〃Oh；　my　gracious！〃　Jean；　usually　so　calm；　flung　a　magazine　against　the　wall。

〃This　is　just　about　as　pleasant　as　a　hanging！　let's　saddle　up　and　ride　in

after　the　mail；　Rosemary。　Maybe　the　squaw　in　her　will　be　howled　out　by　the

time　we　get　back。〃　And　she　added　with　a　venomous　sincerity　that　would　have

warmed　the　heart　of　old　Applehead；　〃I'd　shoot　that　dog；　for　half　a　cent！　How

do　you　suppose　an　animal　of　his　size　can　produce　all　that　noise？〃



〃Oh；　I　don't　know！〃　Rosemary　spoke　with　the　patience　of　utter　weariness。　〃I've

stood　her　and　the　dog　for　about　eight　months　and　I'm　getting　kind　of　hardened

to　it。　But　I　never　did　hear　them　go　on　like　that　before。　You'd　think　all　her

relations　were　being　murdered；　wouldn't　you？〃



Jean　was　busy　getting　into　her　riding　clothes　and　did　…not　say　what　she

thought；　but　you　may　be　sure　that　it　was　antipathetic　to　the　grief　of　Annie…

Many…Ponies；　and　that　Jean's　attitude　was　caused　by　a　complete　lack　of

understanding。　Which；　if　you　will　stop　to　think；　is　true　of　half　the

unsympathetic　attitudes　in　the　world。　Because　they　did　not　understand；　the　two

dressed　hastily　and　tucked　their　purses　safely　inside　their　shirtwaists　and

saddled　and　rode　away　to　town。　And　the　last　they　heard　as　they　put　the　ranch

behind　them　was　the　wailing　chant　of　Annie…Many…Ponies　and　the　prodigious；

long…drawn　howling　of　the　little　black　dog。



Annie…Many…Ponies；　hearing　the　beat　of　hoofs　ceased　her　chanting　and　looked

out　in　time　to　see　the　girls　just　disappearing　over　the　low　brow　of　the　hill。

She　stood　for　a　moment　and　stared　after　them　with　frowning　brows。　Rosemary　she

did　not　like　and　never　would　like；　after　their　hidden　feud　of　months　over　such

small　matters　as　the　cat　and　the　dog；　and　unswept　floors；　and　the　like。　A

mountain　of　unwashed　dishes　stood　between　these　two；　as　it　were；　and　forbade

anything　like　friendship。



But　the　parting　that　was　at　hand　had　brushed　aside　her　jealousy　of　Jean　as

leading　woman。　intuitively　she　knew　that　with　any　encouragement　Jean　would

have　been　her　friend。　Oddly；　she　remembered　now　that　Jean　had　been　the　first

to　ask　for　her　when　she　came　to　the　ranch。　So；　although　Jean　would　never　know；

Annie…Many…Ponies　raised　her　hand　and　gave　the　peace…and…farewell　sign　of　the

plains　Indians。



The　way　was　open　now；　and　she　must　go。　She　had　sworn　that　she　would　meet　Ramon

but　oh；　the　heart　of　her　was　heavier　than　the　bundle　which　she　bound　with

her　bright　red　sash　and　lifted　to　her　shoulders　with　the　sash　drawn　across　her

chest　and　shoulders。　So　had　the　women　of　her　tribe　borne　burdens　since　the

land　was　young；　but　none　had　ever　borne　a　heavier　load　than　did

Annie…Many…Ponies　when　she　went　soft　footed　across　the　open　space　to　the　dry

wash　and　down　that　to　another；　and　so　on　and　on　until　she　crossed　the　low

ridge　and　came　down　to　the　deserted　old　rancho　with　its　crumbling　adobe　cabins

and　the　well　where　she　had　waited　so　often　for　Ramon。



She　was　tired　when　she　reached　the　well；　for　her　back　was　not　used　to

burden…bearing　as　had　been　her　mother's；　and　her　steps　had　lagged　because　of

the　heaviness　that　was　in　her　chest。　It　seemed　to　her　that　some　bad　spirit　was

driving　her　forth　an　exile。　She　could　not　understand。　last　night　she　had　been

glad　at　the　thought　of　going；　and　if　the　thought　of　leaving　Wagalexa　Conka　so

treacherously　had　hurt　like　a　knife…thrust；　still；　she　had　sworn　willingly

enough　that　she　would　go。



The　horse　was　there；　saddled　and　tied　in　a　tumble…down　shed　just　as　Ramon　had

promised　that　it　would　be。　Annie…Many…Ponies　did　not　mount　and　ride　on

immediately；　however。　It　was　still　early　in　the　forenoon；　and　she　was　not　so

eager　in　reality　as　she　had　been　in　anticipation。　She　sat　down　beside　the　well

and　stared　somberly　away　to　the　mountains；　and　wondered　why　she　was　go　sad

when　she　should　be　happy。　She　twisted　the　ring　with　the　big　red　stone　round

and　round　her　finger；　but　she　got　no　pleasure　from　the　crimson　glow　of　it。　The

stone　looked　to　her　now　like　a　great；　frozen　drop　of　blood。　She　wondered

grimly　whose　blood　it　was；　and　stared　at　it　strangely　before　her　eyes　went

again　worshipfully　to　the　mountains　which　she　loved　and　which　she　must　leave

and　perhaps　never　see　again　as　they　looked　from　there；　and　from　the　ranch。



She　must　ride　and　ride　until　she　was　around　on　the　other　side　of　that　last　one

that　had　the　funny；　pointed　cone　top　like　a　big　stone　tepee。　On　the　other　side

was　Ramon；　and　the　priest；　and　the　strange　new　life　of　which　she　was　beginning

to　feel　afraid。　There　would　be　no　more　riding　up　to　camera；　laughing　or

sighing　or　frowning　as　Wagalexa　Conka　commanded　her　to　do。　There　would　be　no

more　shy　greetings　of　the　slim　young　woman　in　riding　skirtthe　friendship

scenes　and　the　black…browed　anger；　while　Pete　Lowry　turned　the　camera　and　Luck

stood　beside　him　telling　her　just　what　she　must　do；　and　smiling　at　her　when

she　did　it　well。



There　would　be　Ramon；　and　the　priest　and　the　wide　ring　of　shiny　gold　…what

more？　The　mountains；　all　pink　and　violet　and　smiling　green　and　soft　gray　…the

mountains　hid　the　new　life　from　her。　And　she　must　ride　around　that　last；

sharp…pointed　one；　and　come　into　the　new　life　that　was　on　the　other　sideand

what　if　it　should　be　bitter？　What　if　Ramon's　love　did　not　live　beyond　the　wide

ring　of　shiny　gold？　She　had　seen　it　so；　with　other　men　and　other　maids。



No　matter。　She　had　sworn　the　oath　that　she　would　go。　But　first；　there　at　the

old　well　where　Ramon　had　taught　her　the　Spanish　love　words；　there　where　she

had　listened　shyly　and　happily　to　his　voice　that　was　so　soft　and　so　steeped　in

love；　Annie…Many…Ponies　stood　up　with　her　face　to　the　mountains　and　sorrow　in

her　eyes；　and　chanted　again　the　wailing；　Omaha　mourning…song。　And　just　behind

her　the　little　black　dog；　that　had　followed　close　to　her　heels　all　the　way；

sat　upon　his　haunches　and　pointed　his　nose　to　the　sky　and　howled。



For　a　long　time　she　wailed。　Then　to　the　mountains　that　she　loved　she　made　the

sign　of　peace…and…farewell；　and　turned　herself　stoically　to　the　keeping　of　her

oath。　Her　bundle　that　was　so　big　and　heavy　she　placed　in　the　saddle　and

fastened　with　the　saddle…string　and　with　the　red　sash　that　had　bound　it　across

her　chest　and　shoulders。　Then；　as　her　great　grandmother　had　plodded　across　the

bleak　plains　of　the　Dakotas　at　her　master's　behest；　Annie…Many…Ponies　took　the

bridle　reins　and　led　the　horse　out　of　the　ruin；　and　started　upon　her　plodding；

patient　journey　to　what　lay　beyond　the　mountains。　Behind　her　the　black　horse

walked　with　drooping　head；　half　asleep　in　the　warm　sunlight。　At　the　heels　of

the　horse　followed　the　little　black　dog。







CHAPTER　IX。　RIDERS　IN　THE　BACKGROUND



Luck；　as　explained　elsewhere；　was　sweating　and　swearing　at　the　heat　in　Bear

Canon。　The　sun　had　crept　around　so　that　it　shone　full　into　a　certain

bowlder…strewn　defile；　and　up　this　sunbaked　gash　old　Applehead　was　toiling；

leading　the　scrawniest　burro　which　Luck　had　been　able　to　find　in　the　country。

The　burro　was　packed　with　a　prospector's　outfit　startlingly　real　in　its

pathetic　meagerness。　Old　Applehead　was　picking　his　way　among　rocks　so　hot　that

he　could　hardly　bear　to　lay　his　bare　hand　upon　them；　tough　as　that　hand　was

with　years　of　exposure　to　heat　and　cold　alike。　Beads　of　perspiration　were

standing　on　his　face；　which　was　a　deep；　apoplectic　crimson；　and　little

trickles　of　sweat　were　dropping　off　his　lower　jaw。



He　was　muttering　as　he　climbed；　but　the　camera　fortunately　failed　to　record

the　language　that　he　used。　Now　and　then　he　turned　and　yanked　savagely　　at　the

lead　rope；　whereupon　the　burro　would　sit　down　upon　its　haunches　and　allow

Applehead　to　stretch　its　neck　as　far　as　bone　and　tough　hide　and　tougher　sinew

would　permit　Someone　among　the　group　roosting　in　the　shade　across　the　defile

and　well　out　of　camera　range　would　laugh；　and　Luck；　standing　on　a　ledge　just

behind　and　above　the　camera；　would　shout　directions　or　criticism　of　the

〃business。〃



〃Come　on　back；　Applehead；〃　Luck　yelled　when　the　〃prospectorp〃　had　turned　a

corner　of　rock　and　disappeared　from　sight　of　th