VI
NORTHRUP, forcing himself to drink slowly, looked about him between sips of the cold water. He had followed his guide through the narrow cleft, by the fagot fire, up a series of winding, uneven steps in the rock and out upon a second ledge, some distance to the side of the first and some fifty feet higher.
Here, in a niche in the rock, was a clay water-jug, brimming. Above rose the cliffs precipitately upon one side; upon the other they fell straight down to the more gentle slope of the foothills. There was no sign of habitation here, nothing to bespeak human occupation of these heights save the water-jug and the Indian who had brought him here.
Turning, Northrup looked back down the rude stairs and through the cut in the rocks. Upon the lower ledge the old man was standing upon the boulder, his arms lifted, his face upturned, his lips moving. About him the bronze figures, naked save for the loin-cloths, were passing noiselessly, bodies swaying rhythmically.
The girl with the parrot upon her wrist, a slender, peeled willow-rod tipped with feathers in her hand, was watching them. Her lips moved with the others, her lithe body swayed with theirs, the feather-tipped rod in her hand beat time to the voiceless singing.
The man at Northrup's side had slipped silently away, his bare feet falling noiselessly upon the rock staircase. Swiftly he went down, dropping from sight, reappearing by the fire, passing out upon the lower ledge to take once more his place in the circling about the old man.
Was the desert in all truth a place bewitched? And were these voiceless beings the band of sorcerers brewing black magic to cast out through the moonlight and over the world? What strange race of tongueless people was this upon which he had stumbled, following the wild tale of a dying Indian down in Santa Fe? And—suddenly the question which had not presented itself for many days came back to him now—who was Tiyo?
Northrup shrugged his shoulders in answer to his own questioning and again lifted the water-jug to his lips, drinking more deeply now. Time would answer him and in the meantime he was not going to die of hunger and thirst. He sat down upon the verge of the higher ledge, filled his pipe and, resting, watched what went on below.
For the greater part of an hour the silent circling continued. Then, at no signal which he could see, it ceased suddenly, breaking off with abrupt finality.
The girl with the parrot, walking slowly between the two long lines of bronze figures which had drawn up and grown motionless for her passing, went to the boulder where the old man in the white robe stood. As he reached down she put her hand up, taking one of his. She carried it to her lips, the action filled with reverence. The old man stood above her like one great in power, undisputed in authority, accepting homage and reverence as his due; the girl's attitude was one of rare humbleness and humility.
But in an instant the parts had changed. As she had dropped the withered hand, the old man had slipped down from his place of eminence. In a moment he had sunk to his knees, had lifted the blue embroidered fringe of her robe, had carried it to his lips. And the girl's air had suddenly undergone a change lightning swift. Her head was lifted, the round throat showing brown and bare through the opening in her robe; she had gathered her small height so that she looked tall; her manner was subtly arrogant, queenly proud. As the kneeling figure looked up at her the reverence was in his eyes, the power and dignity in hers.
"It's the land of mad folks!" grunted Northrup.
A man knowing as much as Northrup of the Indians of the Southwest, such as dwell in Oraibi, Walpi, ancient Taos, throughout the desert lands of New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, knows with what tenacity they cling to traditions which were old centuries before the armored Spaniard came into the New World. He knew them for a deeply religious people, their beliefs stoutly maintained in the face of alien interference, filled with ceremony and symbolism. He knew that this thing which he was watching was some rite deeply important to these people, and could only watch, wondering vaguely what it portended.
Among savage people there is perhaps even less difficulty in selecting at a glance the "higher-ups" than among a people who have gone further with civilization. Already Northrup recognized the very obvious fact that the persons to be reckoned with here were the old man in the white robe, a priest, without doubt, the young man with the knife, and the girl. And now, awakening a keener interest in him, came the knowledge that, for the moment at least, it was the girl to whom all eyes were turned with reverence and obedience.
She lifted the rod in her hand, a baho, or prayer-stick, no doubt, and once more the silent circle was described, the old man leading, the young fellow with the wonderful physique following, the others taking their places behind him. And all of them, passing under the outstretched baho, stooped swiftly to lift the hem of her garment to their lips. She looked over their bent heads with bright eyes, like a young queen just come into her birthright.
In a little they had all passed by her and in silent procession had come through the defile in the rocks, mounting the crooked steps, passing by Northrup with sharp, black eyes turned upon him, across the second ledge and down at the far side, seeming to him to drop one by one into the void below.
After them came the women, matrons first, with their hair arranged in Hopi fashion, done low at each side, the maidens with their hair massed into two great whorls, one at each ear, flashing quick glances of curiosity at him. Upon the lower ledge now were five figures only, the girl with the parrot and the two maidens who stood a little back of her, one on each side, the old man and the man with whom Northrup had struggled.
Now the girl was making swift gestures which for a little perplexed the man who watched her from above, though her companions seemed readily enough to grasp her meaning. Across the few feet which separated them, Northrup could catch their expressions as clearly as if it had been the sun instead of the round moon hanging above them. Into the eyes of the old man and the two attendant maidens came a quick look of horror; into the eyes of the other man a look of black anger.
The girl, seeing what Northrup saw, lifted her head a little higher, her eyes grown brighter, suddenly hard as rock. The gesture again and Northrup knew that it had something to do with him. For the feather-tipped willow-rod was pointed toward him, then out across the ledge where the others had gone, then to the young man before her.
The old man seemed upon the verge of speaking. But, still with locked lips, he shook his head vigorously. The girl whirled upon him, her attitude filled with sovereign menace, and he drew back swiftly as if afraid of her. The two maidens, eyes wide, lips parted breathlessly, stared in sheer amazement at her.
Again the girl with the parrot had whirled about, her back upon the old man, something of contempt in the action, her eyes blazing at the younger man. The gesture came swift and imperious. The fellow who had already felt Northrup's fist, and whose lips were swollen because he had, grew sullen, shaking his head with determined refusal.
The girl took a swift step toward him; he held his ground obstinately. Suddenly, her face showing the fury upon her, she had lifted the prayer-stick as if she would strike him with it. The thing was a slender rod which a man might break between thumb and forefinger. And yet it was the sacred baho!
Northrup thought that he heard a gasp; he knew that what looked like shaking fear had descended from the rod still held aloft. The old man and the young had stooped, lifting the hem of her garment, and the girl, her lips curved into a victor's smile, turned her back upon all of them and came through the defile, to the higher ledge and to Northrup's side. She flashed him a smile which, filled with triumph, was not without the warmth of the admiration which had been in her eyes when he had passed her. Then she went across the ledge, pausing at the brink to look back.
The old man and the two maidens had followed her. The other man, his face convulsed, his eyes like knives, came to where Northrup was now standing. For a moment, the two men looking into each other's eyes, had a glimpse of what might lie in the future. Then again Northrup was following his guide.
The girl, seeming satisfied, went down over the edge of the cliff. Northrup, following his guide, found other steps there, winding downward and turning about a great knob of rock. And then, startled by that which he might have expected, he was looking down into the garden with the white rock basin, the white stone columns, the pool of water and the green-leafed trees he had seen in the mirage.
Here was a third broad ledge, the cliffs at the back curving outward over it, almost like a roof. Close under this overhanging precipice was a building, rudely square, built of white stone and cement with one wide door set between two pillars of stone.
There were half a dozen square openings in the wall, their use as windows obvious. Upon the flat roof were green things growing and the great blossoms looking either white or black in the fainter light there. A temple, Northrup guessed. He was to learn differently soon.
At the side of the pool the girl with the parrot had stopped. The bird, fluttering from her wrist, perched upon a limb which bent and swayed with him. The old man and the younger one, who had guided Northrup here, made again the deep obeisance and passed on, going to the far edge of this ledge and passing down other steps, out of sight. The two attendant maidens, their eyes still wide with surprise and wonder, waited a few steps from their mistress.
Again a quick imperious gesture as she turned upon them. They moved back and away, going from her to the stone building, disappearing through the wide door. The girl who had remained turned slowly, her eyes upon Northrup.
For a little she stood looking at him with deep soberness, her oval face like a little child's in its unaffected interest and curiosity. Then suddenly—it seemed that she did all things with rare swiftness excepting when the mood or pose of languor was upon her—a smile touched her lips into gentle curves, her face dimpled up at him, from low in her throat came a little burst of laughter.
"Ishohi! In your big hands did Tiyo look a little bug squirming! For that, Bahana, I thank you! Askwali!"
"Tiyo?" grunted Northrup. "So the gentleman with the carving-knife is our old friend Tiyo, eh?"
The words, coming with the little start of surprise, found utterance quite naturally in English. In the same tongue he added, "You pretty thing! I wonder if you know you are the prettiest girl I ever saw, red, black, yellow or white?"
She looked at him frankly puzzled, shaking her head slowly. Northrup laughed. Speaking in the tongue his many months with So Wuhti had perfected he said quickly:
"I was just mentioning my delight at meeting up with Tiyo. I have heard of him."
She showed her pleasure at his speaking words which she could understand by clapping her hands. But, again very sober in her regard of him, lifting her face upward until the wonder was he didn't kiss her tempting mouth then and there, she studied him a moment and then declared as though quite satisfied and convinced:
"You are beautiful, Bahana! You are like Sikangwunuptu! Your eyes are like the skies one sees from the mountain-tops. Your hair is like gold, more beautiful than gold."
She came closer, putting up her hand in that swift way of hers until her fingers gently brushed the hair at his temple.
"Yes, you are like the God of the Yellow Dawn."
Northrup whistled. And then, though he felt like a fool for it, he blushed. He felt his face getting red, as red as fire. The girl, seeing his embarrassment, laughed again, her mirth rippling out through the still night, as pure and clean a thing as the moonlight itself.
"You little devil!" muttered the man.
She lifted her brows, making again the sign that she did not understand. Then for an instant Northrup lost sight of her in a new vision which appeared abruptly. He had thought that Tiyo and the old priest had gone on down the rocks somewhere; evidently they had contented themselves by merely going down over the edge and remaining there just out of sight.
For, as if some one had pulled a string and they both were puppets answering to the jerk, their two heads appeared again, the old man's face twisted evilly into a crimson rage, Tiyo's eyes filled with horror and an anger like the priest's. Even the two maidens who had disappeared through the wide doorway were back at the entrance; it seemed to Northrup that their dark faces had grown ashy. He was positive that they had clutched at each other and that they were trembling. He turned questioning eyes back to the girl.
If before she had taken upon herself a seeming of queenliness, now she was like an angry goddess. A moment ago one could not have looked into the limpid, laughing pools which were her eyes and have imagined that they could change so. They blazed with an anger which was greater than Tiyo's and the priest's; they shone with a menace which was hard enough to inspire one with terror. Northrup saw that while the two men held their places there came quickly into their look a certain hint of uneasiness; the two maidens had fled into the dark interior of the stone building.
"Why do you linger, Inaa Wuhtaka (Father Old Man)?" she said with a tone which knew the way to be at once cool, steady and deadly. "Why, Tiyo, do you bring back into the presence of Yahoya your evil face, unbidden? Do you wish Yahoya's blessing? Or her curse perhaps?"
The baho in her hand lifted a little, a very, very little. But the gesture was significant. Both men started back as if they had been struck across the faces. Then, only anger again to be read in the priest's countenance, he began a series of frantic signs which Northrup, looking on in wonderment, was at loss to read, but which the girl seemed to grasp readily.
"Inaa," she said gently, quite as a mother might speak to a forward child, although his years must have numbered seventy at the least, while the maiden was at the first blush of womanhood. "I understand what your locked lips whisper. Your speech comes from your heart and so it is kind. But you will remember, Inaa, that though a priest you are only a man whose path goes the way soon of the Skeleton House. And you will not forget, Inaa, who is Yahoya! Go! Tiyo goes with you."
The thin old hands lifted in protest dropped hopelessly; with no word Inaa, and Tiyo with him, went over the cliffs and out of sight. Northrup, filled more than ever with curiosity, turned to the girl.
"He is like an old sheep, is Inaa," she smiled with pleasant disrespect for the cloth. "All white wool and little brain. And Tiyo—Tiyo is his son."
"And you," said Northrup, wondering at all he had seen. "You are—Yahoya, a great lady—a princess?"
Her smile was as serene as the moonbeam across the still pool as she answered him, stating quite simply as the most matter-of-fact thing in the world:
"I am Yahoya—a goddess!"