Chapter XV
The women of the Quahada village were very busy for weeks after thereturn of the buffalo hunters and the Festival of the Green Corn. Notonly did they have their usual duties to perform, but in addition theyhad to preserve the meat and tan the hides of the buffaloes andantelopes that had been brought back by the men.
The children helped cut the meat into long, thin pieces so that it couldbe hung in the hot sun until the outer part was dry and hard. It wasthen tied together with bits of buckskin or dried sinews and stored awayfor future use. Thus prepared it could be eaten without further cooking,or carried by the Comanches from place to place. Often, as they rodealong, they ate the meat without stopping for other food. With this anda little pounded maize, or a bit of dry vegetable root, they were ableto travel many days.
The big skins had to be cured at once, lest they spoil. So while thechildren were cutting the meat, the women staked all the hides on theground, fur side down. Then two women took charge of each hide.
Songbird did not help the other children cut the meat, but she watchedthe squaws who bent over a very large hide which Quannah had broughthome. The women were busy scraping off all the tiny bits of flesh thatstill clung to the inner surface, using flat, sharp-edged bones, while athong of buckskin around their wrists gave extra strength to theirefforts. She was greatly interested in that robe, for when it had beenthoroughly cured Moko was going to paint on it the picture of the bigfight.
"Let me help," she begged the women.
But they shook their heads and answered, "It is Quannah's robe. We mustbe very careful of it."
Then Songbird ran to where her father was standing not far away from histepee and looked wistfully into his face.
"Let me help the women cure the big robe you brought," she pleaded. "Iwill be very careful not to hurt it. I cannot fight, nor hunt, nor paintstories, but I want to help with the robe because you brought it back,and Moko is going to paint the picture of your big fight with the whitemen."
She caught the slight nod and waited no longer, but raced back in almostbreathless delight to tell the squaws. They made room for her betweenthem, slipping thongs over her small wrists so that her stroke might bestrong and steady.
Very gravely she imitated their motions and listened to theirinstructions. Then, the first part of their work completed, they gaveher a tool made like a hoe with a long handle attached, the bottom partformed of a sharp stone. Several women joined them in the work, and allof them warned Songbird to be most cautious not to tear or roughen thehide with the sharply edged tool.
So as the days went by she did her part in curing the robe. When it wasstaked out, hair side up, she too, rubbed the long fur with a cookedmixture made of meat, roots and herbs. Then she watched the womenarrange masses of dried grass in the centre, gather up the ends andsides, and twist the robe into a tight ball which they put to soak overnight.
She felt very proud and important the next morning as she hurried tothe women, who already held the ends, and were standing far aparttwisting the hide into a long, hard rope, from which liquid wasdripping. When they began to stretch three sides of the robe on a large,slanting frame, Songbird helped industriously, and she also did her partin staking the lower end of the skin to the ground.
After that she sat quietly watching work that she was not tall enoughnor strong enough to do. One of the two women who had first worked onthe hide now took a broad blade of thin stone, almost six feet long. Apiece of bone made a handle in the centre of the thin stone slab. Theblade was pressed strongly against the upper end of the hide, and thendrawn quickly and firmly toward the bottom, so that all moisture oozeddown.
The second woman, with the same kind of tool, at once did the samething, so that no water could be again soaked up by the hide. This workwent on until no moisture rose to the surface, then the skin was left todry and bleach on the frame.
A number of days passed before the robe was dry enough for the nextwork, which had to be done while the skin was still on the frame. Eachof the women had a round buffalo joint, like a large knuckle, and withthis they rubbed the entire surface of the hide, to make it the samethickness all over.
When that had been properly finished, every tear was mended carefullywith threads of strong sinews thrust through tiny holes made by awlswhich were fashioned of sharply pointed tough wood, or of thin flintstones.
Then nothing remained to do except for the squaws to hold thecross-corners of the robe around a large rough tree and draw it back andforth, fur-side out. This removed the last bit of stiffness, and thewomen of the village gathered about the robe, examining and praising itssoftness.
Songbird ran to her father. "It is done!" she cried in delight. "Comesee it! All the women say that it is the largest and finest robe theQuahadas have ever seen!"
Her hand was tugging, while her eager feet danced ahead of Quannah'smore sedate pace. But at last they came to the place where the womenformed an admiring group about the largest buffalo robe that had everbeen brought into their camps. They made way for the chief, who passedbetween them in quiet dignity, and Songbird, beside him, held her littlehead high with pride--not pride for herself, but pride of her father,the chief, who was so brave, so great, and so good.
"It is good," he spoke at last, after he had studied the robe closely."Moko shall paint on it the story of the Big Fight when our little boysfrightened the white horses. So, the children of our children shalllearn the story."
Songbird trotted beside the chief, followed by the two women, until theyall reached Moko's tepee. Then the squaws went their way, and Songbirdlistened to her father telling Moko about the fight and how the littleboys had captured the white horses while the fire-sticks had shriekedand spit, but did not hurt them.
"They were little boys," said Quannah with a smile of pride on his lips."Just children! but some day they will make great warriors."
"I shall paint the story as you have told it," Moko answered, while herfingers stroked the long hair on the robe. "The children of our childrenshall be proud of their forefathers, and the story shall be told intepees and by the camp fires long after the Great Eagle shall bring themessage of the Great Spirit to call Quannah, Chief of the QuahadaComanches, to the Happy Hunting Grounds, where Peta Nocona is waitingfor his son!"
Star: The Story of an Indian Pony Page 16
