“After my uncle hid the masks, he walked with the other men toward the east, away from the home of their mothers. For four years they were kept there, where the white soldiers gave them food, but they were not happy because they were always thinking of the old home of their mothers. My uncle sickened and before he died he told my father how he had hidden the masks, but my father could never find them. In some cliff in this neighborhood I know they are living in beauty.”
Younger Brother spoke excitedly:
“I will find them for they belong to us. We need them for our people. If we sang the songs of plenty with the old masks, the Hunger People would leave.”
Uncle looked fondly at the boy. He had faith that he would find them, for he was a chosen medicine man. Had not the Soft-footed Chief walked past him in beauty? Had he not talked with the Turquoise Woman in her western home and brought back a shell from the wide water ?
Uncle went on with his story:
“I have heard from my father that the medicine man, who was my mother’s brother, owned twenty masks of unwounded buckskin. I have heard that my mother’s brother put four masks in one jar, four masks in another jar, six in a third jar, and the other six, which were masks of female deities, in the fourth jar. My mother’s brother told my father when they went on the Long Walk that he had hidden the four jars in the cliffs near his home. His home was not far from here. I think it was near where the new water tank stands today,”
Everyone listened in silence. Younger Brother kept very quiet but he was thinking hard. Finally he said:
“The jars must be in a big cave, Uncle.”
“I know of no big cave, child, but the footsteps of the ancients are carved in the red rocks that rise above the new water tank.”
Younger Brother looked very wise as he answered:
“I too have seen the footsteps of the ancients. I saw them when I climbed the red rocks to find the water.”
“Did you see any big caves ?” asked Father.
“No, I saw only fallen rocks, which cut my moccasins. It was hard to climb to the pool. I did it with my hands and feet and only I have climbed that way.”
Father said:
“If there are footholds of the ancient people in the red rocks, they led to the pool. Always there have been people near water. The homes of the ancients are hidden by fallen rocks and I think we should not disturb them. It is not good to dig among the ruins.”
While they talked, Younger Brother lay on his sheepskin by the fire. He was thinking, trying to remember something. His sister-in-law sat next to him. Her two babies were asleep in the corner of the room.
Younger Brother noticed that she still wore the deer hoof tied to the fringe of her belt. Always when she was near him, Younger Brother felt happy. She reminded him of the days when he first learned the songs of his people. He recalled his treasure cave and the little silver button that had fallen from her moccasin when she raced to the dawn.
He still kept the silver button and the red stone and the petrified wood. They were in the pottery bowl in Uncle’s hogan. Thinking of his petrified wood of the four colors made him think of the time the Pack Rat had changed the colors of the north and east in his treasure cave.
He remembered how he had watched the Pack Rat scamper out of the cave and run in a certain direction. Suddenly he remembered something else, something he had hardly noticed at the time. The Pack Rat had disappeared under a big rock surrounded by a pile of small rocks. The big rock was in a little canyon above the treasure cave.
The Pack Rat had piled twigs on top of the loose rocks around the entrance to his cave. Some of the twigs were different in color and texture from the others. Younger Brother had noticed that, but had not thought much about it, but now he had one of his sudden revelations. Those twigs had come from the inside of the Pack Rat’s home. They were twigs cut by men long ago. They were not like the twigs that grew around the outside of the pack rats’ home. Turning to his brother’s wife, Younger Brother whispered:
“I know where the four jars must be.”
“Where must they be, Little Singer ?”
“They must be in the home of the Pack Rat under the big rock,” said the boy.
The young woman looked at him with the far-away look in her eyes and said:
“I have heard Uncle tell the story of four jars in the home of the Pack Rat. They must be there.”
Younger Brother said nothing more about the matter that night. He wanted to investigate for himself and by himself. Early in the morning he went alone to the home of the Pack Rat. He examined the twigs and rubbish heaped about the entrance. To his amazement he found a piece of reed the length of three finger widths. The reed was painted black.
Younger Brother recognized it as part of a prayer stick used in the Night Chant. He ran home full of excitement. He must tell Uncle immediately.
Uncle said:
“The Pack Rat always guides you, Little Singer. We must clear away the rocks that cover his home.”
“I think we shall need much help, Uncle. Maybe the Big Man would tell us what to do. He understands the power of the Pack Rat, even as we do, Uncle.”
“Very well, we will tell him. We can ride to the trading post today. I need more tobacco.”
CHAPTER XXVIII
FOUR POTS IN A CAVE
T THE trading post, Uncle and Younger Brother found a number of Navahos warming their hands near the big stove in the middle of the store. They were talking about what some Indian had done. Younger Brother heard the name “Cut Finger.” He listened.
“He has burned a trading post up in the mountains.”
“Is that so ? What will the Pelicanos do to him for that ?”
“They will have to find him before they can do anything. He is hiding.”
“Always that man is crazy. He makes trouble for the Navahos.”
“They say he was hungry. They say he saw the silver pawn hanging in the store.”
“Did he steal the pawn ?”
“Yes, he broke the window and stole the pawn and then set fire to the store.”
“Where was the trader ?”
“He was at the agency. It was Sunday and he left the post alone.”
“That Cut Finger is bad. He should be shut up. He drinks too much mule whiskey.”
Younger Brother listened. He remembered how Cut Finger had tried to get away with his pony. He remembered his squint eyes and the cruel mouth. He hoped the Navaho policeman would soon catch him.
Uncle also was warming his hands over the stove. His brown fur hat was pulled down over his ears and his Pendleton blanket hung loose from his shoulders. He said to the group of Navahos about him:
“Where is the place where Cut Finger burned the post ?”
“It is near the water of Red Canyon far to the west of here. There are many box canyons to hide in.”
“Does the policeman ride to find Cut Finger ?”
“He is getting ready now. He is in the little room with the Big Man.”
Uncle, followed by Younger Brother, entered the little room at the back of the store. The Big Man sat at his desk with his typewriter before him. He greeted his good friends kindly and introduced the Navaho policeman, who was a stranger to Uncle.
They discussed the burning of the store and Younger Brother listened attentively. He heard the Big Man say:
“That trader is a good friend of mine. I am sorry for him. He will need help. Cut Finger must be found. No doubt he is hiding in one of those washes.”
“I think I know where he hides,” spoke up Younger Brother.
The policeman looked at the boy and laughed.
“Where does he hide, little fox ?”
“When he stole my pony, he rode toward the north from the wash, which runs east of the big rock where two junipers grow close together. He rode north toward a hill of blue clay. I think he hides there.”
The Big Man said to the policeman, “Do you know where that blue hill is ?”
“Yes,
I have seen it.”
“Well, take your men and ride there now. I have had the food packed and the canteens filled with water. It is a long ride.”
“I will go there. I have to start hunting in some place.”
After he left, Uncle told the Big Man about the Pack Rat’s nest, and about the loose rocks, and how he wanted to find the jars. He said:
“Grandfather, we need help to move the rocks. Can you ask the Pelicano who fixes the water holes for us, to do this work ?”
“It is not what he is paid to do, but I can ask him. I should like to see for myself where the Pack Rat lives.”
“We must not disturb the Pack Rat, Grandfather. We will have to be kind to him for he knows about the east and north.”
“All right, we will watch out. I think it can be done soon, while the policeman is looking for Cut Finger.”
“And Grandfather, when we find the masks of my mother’s uncle, I will sing the Night Chant. Now I need tobacco.”
The Big Man passed a cigar to Uncle and told the store clerk to furnish him with plug. Uncle and Younger Brother rode home.
In two days the Big Man arrived in his car with the water developer, who looked at the pile of rubble that had lodged around the big rock. He traced it back up the side of the cliff, and decided that there must have been a landslide that could have covered the opening of a cave.
The Pack Rat’s nest evidently had its outlet at the lower end of the slide. In that case the loose rocks could be removed without disturbing the nest. Uncle insisted that the Pack Rat People must not be troubled, because they had always been very wise in their teachings. He had never forgotten about their changing the colors of the north and east.
He was sure they were still trying to teach Younger Brother something about the east, for they had placed the little black prayer stick on top of their nest for the boy to find.
Uncle sat by the entrance to the nest, watching the men shoveling under the direction of the Pelicano. Younger Brother was much excited. He watched every shovelful of dirt. He was sure the workers would find a cave.
About noon of the second day, enough rubble had been cleared away to show that the big rock did run back, making a roof over an opening under it. As soon as the hole was big enough to admit a man, the water developer and the trader crawled in. The rest of the party waited outside.
The two explorers found that they must jump down to the floor of the cave. They were provided with candles and matches. They had ample room to walk comfortably. They noticed shelving rocks inside and signs of old walls built up as partitions.
“Conklin,” said the Big Man, “this looks like one of the earliest types of building. The old people used the natural rock for floor and roof and built these partitions to make separate little rooms.”
“It’s surely interesting, to say the least.”
Just as he spoke, something in the blackness behind them rattled a little.
“What’s that ?” asked the trader.
“It doesn’t sound like a rattlesnake,” said his companion. ‘It’s more like little feet scurrying.”
Just then two very bright, round eyes gleamed in the candle light. Conklin said, “Why, it’s the Pack Rat. I guess he occupies the whole suite. Watch where he goes.”
They watched the little fellow clamber up to a ledge above their heads. They climbed up high enough to look into the recess, and by the light of their candles they could see the form of a big, dark jar.
“We will not touch a thing, Conklin. Uncle must take care of this treasure.”
Outside the cave, Uncle and Younger Brother waited patiently to hear what had happened. When the two explorers climbed out into the sunshine, the Big Man said to Uncle:
“The jars are there. It is for you to take care of them. We will go now so that you can greet the masks of the Yays.”
When Uncle and Younger Brother were alone they sat quietly for a while. They feared to enter the cave. Uncle said there should be a ceremony or a blessing to make it right for them to enter. So he said a prayer from the Night Chant and sprinkled pollen before him as he and Younger Brother climbed into the opening.
The Pack Rat peered down from the ledge.
“It is larger than I thought,” said Uncle, “and I do not like to enter the home of the Ancients.”
“There have been Bat People here, Uncle, since the Ancients left.”
“It is a place such as I never before have entered. Here are small corn-cobs heaped in a corner.”
“And here is a grinding stone, Uncle.”
“Touch nothing, my child, that belongs to the Ancients. We must find the jars, for they belong to us.”
“I do not know where to find them, Uncle.”
“I think we should walk toward the east.”
“Yes, Uncle, let us walk toward the east.”
They groped the way in the semi-darkness until they reached the ledg where the jars were stored.
“We have come to the east wall. We can go no further,” said Uncle.
“What is the noise I hear ?”
“It sounds line the noise of little feet I think it is the Pack Rat.”
Looking up in the direction of the sound, Younger Brother saw the little bushy-tailed rat peering down on him from the ledge above his head. The little fellow sat quietly and unafraid as if he knew the two seekers would do him no harm.
“I think we must climb up the ledge, Uncle.”
“Yes, we must follow the Pack Rat, for he is our guide.”
Climbing up the rocks to where the little animal sat, Uncle looked about him and saw the big dark jar. On the floor in front of the jar he noticed a shining piece of black stone. He said to Younger Brother:
“Look, here is the black stone of the east, placed by the first jar.”
The boy was very much impressed when he looked at the stone. He said, “That is the little piece of petrified wood I used to keep in my treasure cave. The Pack Rat has had it for many years.”
“Do not touch it, child. Leave it for the Pack Rat. He guided us to the jars that hold the masks of my mother’s brother.”
When Uncle removed the first jar, he found the other three behind it. They were all carefully covered with flat rocks. Uncle took all of the jars out into the sunshine. He looked inside to make sure that the masks were there, then packed the jars carefully in his wagon, and drove to his hogan, where he could examine the masks at his leisure.
News of the finding of the old masks spread for miles around. Such an important event inspired all the medicine men. They were glad that Uncle was to sing the Night Chant, using the masks of his mother’s brother.
All the young men singers practiced their songs for the ninth night. Hasteen Sani chose to be the patient. It would be the fourth time in his life that he had had the ceremony. After that he would be allowed to give the sing himself. He, too, was a student of Uncle’s.
The time was set for the building of the medicine lodge and the strong clan brothers of Hasteen Sani went to the mountains to cut the pine logs and to haul firewood for all the little campfires.
Younger Brother was to assist Uncle and besides he was to be initiated for the second time. He rode with other young men to gather the sacred spruce boughs. He remembered his first trip to the forests when he was a little boy. He remembered how he had hoped to be a medicine man, and had wished to learn the old songs of his people.
With a feeling of contentment he packed the spruce boughs on his pony and rode down the mountain trail in the late afternoon sunshine. The little pinto carefully picked his way over the loose stones of the steep trail.
Younger Brother sang as he rode, lifting his face to the golden sky, where a flock of yellow warblers flung their own songs of gladness to the Bearer of the Day.
CHAPTER XXIX
COME ON THE TRAIL OF SONG
N THE meantime the Navaho policeman and his posse had found Cut Finger and arrested him. He did have a hogan hidden near the blue clay hill. In a hole dug
in the dirt floor he had concealed the stolen pawn. The police found not only the jewelry stolen from the burned trading post but also two fine saddle blankets and an old silver bridle set with turquoises.
Cut Finger looked uglier than ever because he was in a stupor. He was almost unconscious from too much mule whiskey. That was why it had been so easy to capture him.
The policeman put handcuffs on him and told two men to guard him while he packed the stolen articles in gunny sacks.
Silver disk belts, turquoise beads, shell and coral necklaces, earrings and bracelets had been dumped in the hole in the floor and covered with sheepskins.
The policeman recognized some of the pieces, which had been pawned by his own family. When all the jewelry had
been taken out of the hole, he made another find. Underneath an old goat skin and a saddle were two big bottles of the bad whiskey.
“It is plain to see why you steal, Cut Finger. It’s no use for you to say you saved the pawn of our people when you happened past the burning trading post.”
“But that is what happened,” insisted the drunken thief. “I saw the trader lock his door and ride away. I looked in the window and I saw that the fire in the stove had spread to the floor and burned some paper there. I broke the window to get in to put out the fire, but it was burning too fast. I saw all the silver belts of our people and I took them to save them.”
“That would be a good story from a good man,” said the policeman. “From you it is not good. Where do you get this whiskey ?”
“My friends at the railroad give it to me.”
“Well, Cut Finger, we will all go to the agency and you can tell your story to the Pelicanos. We will take the pawn and the whiskey with us.”
It was not easy keeping Cut Finger with them. He tried to run away on his pony, but the policeman lassoed him with a rope. They finally delivered him and his stolen goods to the care of the agent.
The pawn was returned to the trader whose store was burned. Because the loss of his post and home had made him poor, the Big Man, who was his sympathetic friend, paid him what the Indians owed on the jewelry. In that way the trader was helped and many Indians had their precious silver and turquoise back, redeemed for them by the Big Man.
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