by J. T. Edson
‘Now!’ commanded Loud Voice and advanced, leading the line towards the level area.
Crouching slightly, Loncey watched the line approach him. As the ‘grizzly bear’ he had to protect the mound of ‘sugar’ and also try to catch the ‘mother’, Loud Voice, or one of the youngsters.
For a time Loud Voice managed to keep his ‘family’ safe. Swinging the line back and forwards, he steered them clear of Loncey’s grabbing hands. However, the white boy’s slim build gave him added speed that enabled him to cover the ‘sugar’ effectively and prevented the others from stealing any of it. Then one of the girls in the line made the mistake of coming too close. Out shot Loncey’s right arm and the girl screeched as his fingers closed on her shoulder. Instantly the line broke up and the children scattered, leaving the girl to be hauled into the circle to be ‘eaten’; which meant nothing more serious than a tickling administered by the ‘grizzly bear’.
On making the first capture, Loncey changed the course of the game. Instead of a single line coming, now he had to protect the ‘sugar’ from the individual rushes. Darting in, the children either grabbed off a handful of sand or were captured and ‘eaten’. Such games developed hard, tireless muscles, especially when acting as the ‘grizzly bear’ and Loncey showed no signs of tiring even after defending the ‘sugar’ continuously for over an hour. All the girls fell victim early in the game, but the boys proved more elusive. Darting around, leaping over the mound, flashing from side to side, Loncey captured boy after boy, ‘eating’ them and sending them to watch from the sidelines. Of course he could not protect the entire area at once and the mound diminished gradually as the number of boys decreased.
Comes For Food evaded Loncey until the last. With the complete circle to move in and only one assailant to watch, Loncey could protect the ‘sugar’ easily. Making a feint at going left, Comes For Food lunged suddenly to the right. Shrieks of delight rose from the spectators as he reached the edge of the circle. Then Loncey, pretending to be fooled by the feint, turned and dived forward to lock his arms about the other’s waist. Together they crashed to the sand and sat up grinning at each other.
‘What now?’ asked Loud Voice, coming forward.
For a moment none of the others replied, but all glanced up towards the sky. Already the sun had sunk down in the west and long shadows spread over the land. With the excitement of the game over, the youngsters became aware of the passing of time. Night would soon be on them and all cast darting looks in the direction of the main village’s glowing fires. Each of the youngsters remembered stories, told around the winter fires of their tepees, about Piamempits, the Big Cannibal Owl. As the sun sank in the west, Piamempits left his home cave in the south slopes of the Wichita Mountains and flew in search of his favorite food, young children who had behaved badly during the day.
‘Let’s go back to the village,’ suggested one of the girls, throwing scared glances at the gloomy darkness of the river-side woods. ‘Perhaps Piamempits will be so hungry that he cannot tell the difference between good and bad children.’
While the words caused most of the children to think about returning home, they tended to have the opposite effect upon Loncey and Loud Voice. Soon the two boys would reach the age when they put aside childish things, ceased playing with little girls and joined the all-male band of adolescent youths in learning to be warriors. So the two boys did not wish to rush back to the village just because the sun happened to be going down.
‘Shall we have another game of “Grizzly Bear”?’ asked Loncey, trying to sound bold and casual.
‘Why not ask a tsukup to come and play “Do you?” with us?’ Loud Voice answered, attempting to appear unconcerned by the possible danger of Piamempits.
Loncey nodded his agreement. Before they could play at ‘Do You?’, an old man had to volunteer his services in the game. Few tsukup ever refused such a request, but finding one meant returning to camp. Once there the group could break up and return to its various homes, giving its leaders an excuse for not returning to the play-area without any hint of being afraid of Piamempits.
‘We can ask old Tamina,’ Loncey said. ‘He will always find time to play.’
‘Let’s go then,’ replied Loud Voice. ‘I know where to find—”
At that moment they all heard the eerie, spine-chilling sound of an owl hooting among the trees—only sounding far louder than the cry made by any normal bird. Being shrewd practical students of nature, all the party realized that no ordinary owl produced such a volume of noise. Instinctively the youngsters bunched closer together and with their leaders before them. Again the owl hooted, closer than before. One of the girls let out a scream of terror and pointed off towards the near-by trees. Following the direction she indicated, the remainder of the party saw a sight which chilled them to the marrow.
Coming out of the darkness was a vague, unreal white shape which looked neither animal nor human. Long white wings fluttered, spreading out menacingly, as the thing advanced on the children and again came the hooting of the owl—from the approaching thing.
‘Piamempits!’ screamed a girl.
Which exactly matched the thoughts reached by every member of the band and fired them all with the desire to escape.
Another hoot rang out from the creature and it darted forward like an ordinary owl swooping upon a fear-frozen mouse. Instantly the party scattered, screaming and shrieking in terror as they darted towards the safety of the village. Last to surrender the field were Loncey, Loud Voice and Comes For Food. Showing commendable courage, they allowed their younger companions to flee first, then whirled and ran themselves. In going Loud Voice caught his foot on the top of the depleted mound of ‘sugar’ sand, tripped and went crashing to the ground. He rolled over and let out a howl of terror as the shape bore down on him.
Hearing and recognizing his foster-brother’s voice, Loncey skidded to a halt and twisted around. While as scared as any of the others, Loncey saw his ‘brother’ in trouble and showed something of the kind of man he would grow up to be. Flinging himself forwards with a juvenile attempt at a war yell that was three parts fear, Loncey hurled over his fallen ‘brother’ and crashed head first into the fluttering white shape. The force of his arrival brought a startled, very human-sounding grunt of pain from the thing, causing it to reel backwards and sit down hard. Unable to stop himself, Loncey landed on top of the shape and bore it backwards until it lay flat on the ground. Sheer instinct for self-preservation caused the terrified youngster to launch wild blows at the shape, while his lungs churned out screeches loud enough to waken the dead and drowned certain sounds made by ‘Piamempits’.
Loud Voice sat up, amazed to find himself still alive instead of being carried away by Piamempits. Then he saw Loncey and guessed what must have happened. A leg, looking surprisingly human, showed from the white form of Piamempits and waved wildly before the boy’s face. Grabbing hold of it, he sank his sharp teeth into its calf and hung on like a bulldog laying hold of a beef-critter’s nose.
Attracted by the screams of the children, men in the village raced for and bounded astride their horses after snatching up the nearest weapons. They expected an attack by some enemy as they charged towards the direction of the sounds and rode prepared to make a fight. Passing the fleeing children on his way out of the camp, Sam Ysabel noticed Loncey was missing and cold anxiety bit at him. He gripped the butt of the Walker Colt holstered at his side and swore vengeance should a hair of the boy’s head be harmed by the attackers. Gun in hand—he had inspected the revolver designed to Captain Walker’s recommendations; decided it was worth owning and so bought one—he reached the sand bank first of the rescue party. Sliding the grulla stallion to a halt, he stared at the sight before him. The Colt’s barrel sagged groundwards and a bellow of laughter broke from him.
Flat on his back, raising a tolerable fuss considering his disadvantages, with Loncey seated upon his chest throwing punches at him and Loud Voice gnawing at his leg, Sleeps Long and Deep emi
tted bellows of mingled rage and pain. Other men drew their horses up and joined in the laughter as their eyes took in the scene. Every one of them could guess what had happened.
One of the methods used by the Comanche to throw a scare into misbehaving children was for an old man or woman to drape him or herself under a white sheet—looted from some Mexican or white owner—and come down on the mischievous ones as Sleeps Long and Deep attempted to do. Normally such a shock would have worked, in fact almost did on this occasion. Only the tsukup failed to take into account Loud Voice’s accident and the sturdy spirit and loyalty of Loncey Dalton Ysabel.
‘It seems we have a warrior for a son, Ysabel,’ grinned War Club as the two boys came to their feet.
‘Looks that way,’ agreed Ysabel.
‘This was a brave deed for one so young,’ Long Walker put in and the men about him rumbled their agreement. ‘He must be rewarded.’
‘Would it be in order for us to give one so young a Give-Away Dance, naravuh?’ Ysabel inquired.
‘I think it would,’ the chief answered and again the assembled braves gave their approval.
When a young Comanche performed some feat of courage, his family held a Give-Away Dance in his honor. Loncey became the youngest member of the Nemenuh to receive the honor.
Four days after the affair, the tribal drummers gathered by Long Walker’s fire, facing east in the center of a large crowd. A grave-faced, specially coached slip of a boy danced the victory steps and several tuivitsi honored him by joining in. Loncey’s father, foster parents, grandfather and a number of other people pitched presents at the youngster’s feet as he danced. Several blankets, a knife, sticks which represented horses, landed in the circle. Even Sleeps Long and Deep made a present, a stronger bow than Loncey’s present weapon and a half-dozen arrows.
Anybody who wished among the spectators could grab up one of the presents and claim it. Of course no warrior would think of doing so, for that would imply he could not raid well enough to gather his own property. Women took the opportunity to obtain blankets and a couple of old men in need of horses took up a tossed-in stick. The deeds implied a tribute to the recipient of the dance, showing that those who helped themselves believed he could quite easily produce more property by his skill as a raider.
Following the Comanche tradition, Sam Ysabel gave away the entire profits of his last trading trip. He knew he could easily earn more and that by giving he ensured himself of help when he needed it.
As for Loncey, the Pehnane told each other of his exploit. By common consensus of public opinion, he would grow up to be a great warrior worthy of assuming Long Walker’s war bonnet if he kept up such a high standard of courageous conduct.
Chapter Five – A Reward for Diligence
After his sudden rise to fame, Loncey found the public’s eye upon him more than ever. He was expected to set his companions a good example and generally did so. However, little changed beyond making sure that his band did not charge through the camp and create a disturbance. The acquisition of a more powerful bow allowed him to try his hand on larger game. Often he and his friends attempted to bring down the swift-flying bull-bats in an evening time. While they occasionally managed to hit a bat, their light bows lacked the power to hurl an arrow hard enough to bring the animal down. Using his new bow, Loncey finally achieved his ambition. With a leather cuff around his left arm to protect it from bruising by the string—a necessity with the more powerful bow—he practiced shooting at stationary objects first, graduating to moving targets. Not for several tries did he bring off his desired coup on a bull-bat, but when he did his whoop of triumph could be heard all around the camp.
Word drifted back to the Pehnane, carried by visiting braves, of Fire Dancer’s activities among the Kweharehnuh. Soon after her arrival, she attended a dance and her skilled grace attracted the attention of a wealthy warrior. A marriage had been arranged and, following the pattern established in the Pehnane village, she took over the position of pairaivo. Shortly after the warrior made public announcement that Fire Dancer must receive the bulk of his property when he died, he met a sudden, mysterious end. A second husband followed and the pattern repeated itself. By all accounts the wealthy triple-widow had found yet a fourth man willing to succumb to her charms and fast rose to the position of pairaivo.
What none of the news-carriers told was how the woman raised her son in his father’s light—she bore no more children—and taught him to hate those she blamed for Bitter Root’s death.
Only Fire Dancer knew of her hate, but that made it none the less deadly.
One day soon after Loncey received his Give-Away Dance, a party of Texas Rangers rode into the camp accompanied by other men who wore strange blue clothing which looked all alike. It seemed that Texas, including all of Comancheria, had at last been persuaded to turn from its status as a Republic and become a member of the United States of America. A condition laid down in the agreement was that the United States supplied troops for keeping the peace and policing the land and Texas disbanded the Rangers. At that time the Rangers consisted of unpaid volunteers, so they raised few objections to being able to return to their homes and interrupted lives. Before disbanding, one company of Rangers escorted a company of U.S. Dragoons on a tour to meet the various friendly Indian chiefs. Knowing the quality of the Pehnane fighting men, the Rangers wanted to make sure that the Dragoons knew enough to avoid ruining the friendly relationship existing between the two people.
Actually it would be some time before the change from Republic to State of the Union affected the Pehnane. They paid no taxes, made no trouble and asked only that they be left in peace. So far not sufficient settlers had reached Texas for there to be any need to encroach upon the Indian lands and, without pressure from potential voters, the government at State and national level saw no reason to go to the expense of antagonizing a people who wanted only to remain friendly.
Life went on as before for Loncey. By the time he reached his eleventh birthday, he started the final training which would end when he rode upon his first war trail as a brave-heart warrior. When Sam Ysabel returned from his last trip, he brought back a Green River fighting knife and Long Walker set to work to make a sheath for it. Without being told Loncey guessed the knife would be his when the men felt he deserved it. That day would mean that they also considered him old enough to progress to his warrior training.
While waiting for the day, Loncey continued his normal existence. More and more his age-group tended to mingle with the older boys and ignore the younger, mixed group of children. They played rougher games, relegating ‘Grizzly Bear’ and ‘Do You?’ to their past. Wrestling lessons and instruction in the art of knife-fighting became their prime interest; with Loncey showing an affinity for the latter which made his teachers nod in grim approval. Of course the French Creole shared with the Comanche a love of cold steel for a fighting weapon. How Loncey, wielding a wooden knife, longed for the day when he wore the real thing at his side and could master throwing it; a most important part of handling a knife as a fighting weapon.
Increasing age brought advantages. When younger Loncey and the other children often found themselves commanded by older boys to assist in a game of Nanip’ka, ‘Guess Over The Hill’. In one version the youngsters had to hide under buffalo hide or blanket covers on one side of a hill and the boy who was ‘It’ came around to try to guess the identity of the children under the hiding places.
In the second version, which Loncey preferred, the boys selected a hiding place among the natural cover and the ‘It’ player had to locate them. Playing that version taught the youngsters the value of concealment and how to be patient, staying perfectly motionless for long periods despite all discomforts. The knowledge Loncey gained playing Nanip’ka would save his life on more than one occasion in the years to come.
When not commandeered by the older boys, Loncey’s group played the game among themselves and he developed an ability second to none at locating the hidden players.
One day soon after his eleventh birthday Loncey stood on a slope as ‘It’ in a game of Nanip’ka. So engrossed did he become that he failed to notice his grandfather close behind him and watching every move he made. Time after time Loncey pointed, called a name and location and brought one of his companions from the place in which he located the boy. At last only Loud Voice, no mean hand at Nanip’ka himself, avoided detection.
For almost fifteen minutes Loncey raked the ground before him with keen-eyed attention. He examined every bush, rock, tree and depression without result. Overhead a hawk made a leisurely circle in search of food. After glancing at the bird, Loncey brought his eyes hurriedly to earth. In a moment he found the cause of the slight movement which drew his attention from the hawk. Sliding through the grass, a king snake made its way towards a small clump of mesquite. It moved at speed, not caring for the open nature of the surrounding land. Instead of darting into the shade and security of the mesquite clump, the snake swung away and wriggled rapidly up the slope to disappear beneath a rock.
Loncey noted the snake’s actions, also that the hawk did not drop down and take advantage of the easy prey. As neither creature behaved in a natural manner, he studied the mesquite once more. Previously he passed over the clump as being too small to hide anything larger than a jackrabbit.
‘Loud Voice!’ he called, taking a chance. ‘Behind that small clump of mesquite close to the two small rocks.’
A laugh greeted his words and Loud Voice emerged from the hollow he dug behind the mesquite. Behind Loncey, Long Walker nodded approvingly. It had only been a few seconds earlier that he located the hidden youngster. Stepping forward the chief asked Loncey how he found Loud Voice’s hiding place.
