the heritage of the sioux-第13部分

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picture　that　day。　But　Luck　unconsciously　opened　wide　the　trail　for　her。　He

announced　at　breakfast　that　they　would　work　up　in　Bear　Canon　that　day；　and

that　he　would　not　need　Jean　or　Annie　either；　and　that；　as　it　would　be　hotter

than　the　hinges　of　Gehenna　up　in　that　canon；　they　had　better　stay　at　home　and

enjoy　themselves。



Annie…Many…Ponies　did　not　betray　by　so　much　as　a　flicker　of　the　lashes　that

she　heard　him　much　less　that　it　was　the　best　of　good　news　to　her。　She　went

into　her　tent　and　packed　all　of　her　clothes　into　a　bundle　which　she　wrapped　in

her　plaid　shawl；　and　was　proud　because　the　bundle　was　so　big；　and　because　she

had　much　fine　beadwork　and　so　many　red　ribbons；　and　a　waist　of　bright　blue

silk　which　she　would　wear　when　she　stood　before　the　priest；　if　Ramon　did　not

like　the　dress　of　beaded　buckskin。



A　ring　with　an　immense　red　stone　in　it　which　Ramon　had　given　her；　she　slipped

upon　her　finger　with　her　little；　inscrutable　smile。　She　was　engaged　to　be

married；　now；　just　like　white　girls；　and　tomorrow　she　would　have　a　wide　ring

of　shiny　gold　for　that　finger；　and　should　be　the　wife　of　Ramon。



Just　then　Shunka　Chistala；　lying　outside　her　tent；　flapped　his　tail　on　the

ground　and　gave　a　little；　eager　whine。　Annie…Many…Ponies　thrust　her　head

through　the　opening　and　looked　out；　and　then　stepped　over　the　little　black　dog

and　stood　before　her　tent　to　watch　the　Happy　Family　mount　and　ride　away　with

Wagalexa　Conka　in　their　midst　and　with　the　mountain　wagon　rattling　after　them

loaded　with　〃props〃　and　the　camera　and　the　noonday　lunch　and　Pete　Lowry　and

Tommy　Johnson；　the　scenic　artist。　Applehead　was　going　to　drive　the　wagon；　and

she　scowled　when　he　yanked　off　the　brake　and　cracked　the　whip　over　the　team。



Luck；　feeling　perchance　the　intensity　of　her　gaze；　turned　in　the　saddle　and

looked　back。　The　eyes　of　Annie…Many…Ponies　softened　and　saddened；　because　this

was　the　last　time　she　would　see　Wagalexa　Conka　riding　away　to　make

picturesthe　last　time　she　would　see　him。　She　lifted　her　hand；　and　made　the

Indian　sign　of　farewellthe　peace…go…with…you　sign　that　is　used　for　solemn

occasions　of　parting。



Luck　pulled　up　short　and　stared。　What　did　she　mean　by　that？　He　reined　his

horse　around；　half　minded　to　ride　back　and　ask　her　why　she　gave　him　that

peace…sign。　She　had　never　done　it　before；　except　once　or　twice　in　scenes　that

he　directed。　But　after　all　he　did　not　go。　They　were　late　in　getting　started

that　morning；　which　irked　his　energetic　soul；　and　women's　whims　never　did

impress　Luck　Lindsay　very　deeply。　Besides；　just　as　he　was　turning　to　ride

back；　Annie　stooped　and　went　into　her　tent　as　though　her　gesture　had　carried

no　especial　meaning。



Then　in　her　tent　he　heard　her　singing　the　high；　weird　chant　of　the　Omaha

mourning　song　anad　again　he　was　half…　minded　to　go　back；　though　the　wailing

minor　notes；　long　drawn　and　mournful；　might　mean　much　or　they　might　mean

merely　a　fit　of　the　blues。　The　others　rode　on　talking　and　laughing　together；

and　Luck　rode　with　them；　but　the　chant　of　the　Omaha　was　in　his　ears　and

tingling　his　nerves。　And　the　vision　of　Annie…Many…Ponies　standing　straight

before　her　tent　and　making　the　sign　of　peace　and　farewell　haunted　him　that

day。



Rosemary　and　Jean；　standing　in　the　porch；　waved　good…bye　to　their　men　folk

until　the　last　bobbing　hatcrown　had　gone　down　out　of　sight　in　the　long；　low

swale　that　creased　the　mesa　in　that　direction。　Whereupon　they　went　into　the

house。　



〃What　in　the　world　is　the　matter　with　Annie？〃　Jean　exploded；　with　a　little

shiver。　〃I'd　rather　hear　a　band　of　gray　wolves　tune　up　when　you're　caught　out

in　the　breaks　and　have　to　ride　in　the　dark。　What　is　that　caterwaul？　Do　you

suppose　she's　on　the　warpath　or　anything？〃



〃Oh；　that's　just　the　squaw　coming　out　in　her！〃　Rosemary　slammed　the　door　shut

so　they　could　not　hear　so　plainly。　〃She's　getting　more　Injuny　every　day　of　her

life。　I　used　to　try　and　treat　her　like　a　white　girlbut　you　just　can't　do　it；

Jean。〃



〃Hiu…hiu…hi…i…ah…h！　Hiu…hiu…hi…i…ah…h…hhiaaa…h…h！〃



Jean　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　room　and　listened。　〃Br…r…r！〃　she　shiveredand

one　could　not　blame　her。　I　wonder　if　she'd　be　mad；〃　she　drawled；　〃if　I　went

out　and　told　her　to　shut　up。　It　sounds　as　if　somebody　was　dead；　or　going　to

die　or　something。　Like　Lite　says　your　dog　will　howl　if　anything　〃



〃Oh；　for　pity　sake！〃　Rosemary　pushed　her　into　the　living　room　with

make…believe　savageness。　〃I've　heard　her　and　Luck　sing　that　last　winter。　And

there's　a　kind　of　a　teetery　dance　that　goes　with　it。　It's　supposed　to　be　a

mourning　song；　as　Luck　explains　it。　But　don't　pay　any　attention　to　her　at　all。

She　just　does　it　to　get　on　our　nerves。　It'd　tickle　her　to　death　if　she　thought

it　made　us　nervous。〃



〃And　now　the　dog　is　joining　in　on　the　chorus！　I　must　say　they're　a　cheerful

pair　to　have　around　the　house。　And　I　know　one　thingif　they　keep　that　up　much

longer；　I'll　either　get　out　there　with　a　gun；　or　saddle　up　and　follow　the

boys。〃



〃They'd　tease　us　to　death；　Jean；　if　we　let　Annie　run　us　out。〃



〃It's　run　or　be　run；〃　Jean　retorted　irritatedly。　〃I　wanted　to　write　poetry

todayI　thought　of　an　awfully　striking　sentence　about　thefor　heaven's　sake；

where's　a　shotgun？〃



〃Jean；　you　wouldn't！〃　Rosemary；　I　may　here　explain；　was　very　femininely　afraid

of　guns。　〃She'dwhy；　there's　no　telling　WHAT　she　might　do！　Luck　says　she

carries　a　knife。〃



〃What　if　she　does？　　She　ought　to　carry　a　few　bird…shot；　too。　She's　got　nothing

to　mourn　aboutnobody's　died；　has　there？



〃Hiu…hiu…hia…a…a；ah！　Hia…a…a…a…ah！〃　wailed　Annie…Many…Ponies　in　her　tent；

because　she　would　never　again　look　upon　the　face　of　Wagalexa　Conkaor　if　she

did　it　would　be　to　see　his　anger　blaze　and　burn　her　heart　to　ashes。　To　her　it

was　as　though　death　sat　beside　her；　the　death　of　Wagalexa　Conka's　friendship

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　h