Supper was a
festive meal, Na-che producing a rabbit soup, and Jonas broiling the
quail, which he served with hot biscuit that the most accomplished chef
might have envied.
After the meal was finished and Enoch and Diana were standing before
the fire, debating the feasibility of a walk under the pines, Jonas and
Na-che approached them solemnly.
Jonas cleared his throat. "Boss and Miss Diana, Na-che and me, we want
you to do something for us. We know you all trust us both and so we
don't want you to ask the why or the wherefore, but just go ahead and
do it."
"What is it, Jonas?" asked Diana.
"Well, up ahead a spell in these woods, there's a round open space and
in the middle of it under a big rock an Injun and his sweetheart is
buried. Something like a million years ago he stole her from over
yonder from the--" he hesitated, and Na-che said softly:
"Hopis."
"Yes, the Hopis. And her tribe come lickety-cut after her, and
overtook 'em at that spot yonder, and her father give her the choice of
coming back or both of 'em dying right there. They chose to die, and
there they are. Wee-tah and Na-che and all the Injuns believe--"
Na-che pulled at his sleeve.
"Oh, I forgot! We ain't going to tell you what they believe, because
whites don't never have the right kind of faith.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399