Chapter I
The first streak of dawn was turning the sky from gray to pale pink asStar lifted his head and looked sleepily at the twelve hundred Comancheponies stretched on the ground around him.
Farther away were many tepees made from buffalo skins, but only thewolf-dogs, curled in holes they had dug near the tepees, showed that thecamp was not deserted. Star knew that the Comanche braves, squaws, andpapooses would soon awaken and come out wrapped in blankets which hadbeen woven by the squaws and dyed in bright colours made from roots andberries.
One tepee, larger than the others, belonged to Quannah, Chief of theQuahada Comanches, and Star looked at it as he recalled the story hismother, Running Deer, had told him many times while they grazed side byside or rested on the banks of the creek near the camp. Star lovedQuannah, but more than all else he loved Quannah's little daughter,Songbird, for she was Star's mistress. He remembered the day when he hadbeen too tiny and weak to stand up, and Quannah, with Songbird, hadstooped to pat Running Deer's colt.
"We will name him Star," the chief had spoken. "He belongs to you, ashis mother belongs to me, and as his mother's mother belonged to myfather. Swift, sure, and strong, they have been worthy to carry theChiefs of the Quahadas."
So the colt understood the honour given his mother and the honour thatwas to be his when he was big enough to be ridden. And the tale hismother told many times never wearied him.
"My mother told me the tale," she would always begin, "and now that sheis dead I tell it to you. When I am dead, you shall tell it to otherponies, so that it may be remembered as long as Comanche herds wanderover the plains.
"The squaws tell their papooses the great deeds of their forefathers,that none will forget, that the young boys may become great warriors,while the girls grow to be worthy squaws and train their own sons tolive with honour. So I, too, tell the story of our part in the life ofour great Chief and his Pale-face Mother, as my mother told it to me,long ago, before you were born.
"When she was a very young mare, the swiftest racer of all the Comancheponies, our tribe wandered long distances over plains covered with grassknee-high. Vast herds of buffaloes and thousands of beautiful antelopesshared the prairie lands with us. When the tepees were set up there wereso many that they reached out like stars covering the sky at night. Ourpony herd was so large that each brave owned many ponies, and he whoowned the most ponies was the richest man of all.
"The Comanches could not live without us. It needs a swift, sure-footedpony to follow the antelope near enough to send an arrow to its heart asit runs. You know, as well as I, that antelope meat must be brought tothe camp to feed the women and children. Because the Comanches are suchgreat hunters, other tribes call them the 'Antelope Eaters.' And fromthe hundreds of buffaloes ranging on the plains, our warriors obtainhides for clothing, for warm robes and to make tepees that will defy thecold winds and snows that rush upon them from the place where the GreatWhite Spirit of Winter dwells.
"Without good ponies the Comanches would be cold and hungry, as you mustsee. And so we are honoured by the warriors and loved by the women andchildren for whom we provide food and shelter. When the enemies of thetribe come against us in battle, the ponies share the dangers with theirowners. None of us has ever been vanquished. Ponies have died besidetheir masters, but have never deserted them. When a warrior dies, hisfavourite pony dies with him, that the warrior may ride it in the HappyHunting Grounds to which he and it have journeyed through the Land ofShadows. There they are happy together. That is a great honour, but thegreatest honour of all is to be the favourite pony of the Chief."
"Like you!" interrupted Star with a proud toss of his head as he glancedat other colts whose mothers belonged to men who were not chiefs.
"Like me and like my mother," Running Deer never failed to answer. "Liedown beside me while I tell you the tale again, so that you will make nomistake in telling it to other ponies when you are old and others haveforgotten it all."
Star settled himself comfortably at her side, and as she talked, henipped daintily at bits of tender grass which made a soft bed beneathover-hanging branches of a tall tree.
Star: The Story of an Indian Pony Page 2