L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 06 (7 page)

They came to the little town in time to see the gorgeous sunset from
this, the highest point of the Rockies, and especially to Myrtle, who
had traveled so little, was the sight impressive and awe inspiring.
There was a small but fairly good hotel in the place, and after supper
Patsy and Beth went out for a stroll, being much interested in the
dark-skinned Mexicans and still darker Indians who constituted far
the larger part of the population. The party had everywhere met with
respect from these people, who, although curious, were silent and
well-behaved; so Uncle John and the Major, deep in a political
argument on the hotel porch, had no thought of danger when they saw
the two girls start away arm in arm.

The sky was still aglow, although the sun had set, and in the subdued
light the coarse adobe huts and rickety frame dwellings were endowed
with a picturesque appearance they did not really possess. Beth and
Patsy came to the end of the main street rather suddenly, and stood a
moment looking at the shadows cast by the rocky cliffs near by. Some
of the peaks had snow upon them, and there was a chill in the air, now
that the sun had withdrawn its warmth. The girls turned presently and
took another route that might bring them quicker to the hotel, but had
only proceeded a short way when in passing a rather solitary adobe
structure a man stepped from the shadow of the wall and confronted
them. He wore a red flannel shirt and a broad sombrero, the latter
scarcely covering his dark, evil features.

The cousins stopped short. Then Beth whispered: "Let's go the other
way." But as they were about to turn the Mexican drew a revolver and
said in harsh, uneven English: "You halt. Keep a-still, or I shoot."

"What do you want?" asked Beth, quietly.

"Money. All you got. Jew'lry—all you got. Give 'm quick, or I shoot!"

As they stood hesitating a sound of footsteps was heard and someone
approached quickly from behind them. Patsy looked hurriedly around
and saw Wampus. He was walking with his thin little form bent and his
hands deep in his trousers pockets. Incidentally Wampus was smoking
the stub of a cigar, as was his custom when off duty.

The Mexican saw him, but marking his small size and mild manner did
not flinch from his position. With one revolver still leveled at the
girls he drew another from a hip pocket and turned it upon Wampus.

"You stop—halt!" he exclaimed fiercely.

Wampus did not halt. His eyes fixed upon the bandit's ugly features,
still puffing his cigar and with hands in his pockets he walked
deliberately past Patsy and Beth and straight up to the muzzles of the
revolvers.

"Stop!" cried the Mexican; and again: "Stop!"

Wampus stopped when one revolver nearly touched his nose and another
covered his body. Slowly he drew one hand from his pocket and grasped
the barrel of the nearest weapon.

"Let him go," he said, not raising his voice. The man stared into the
little chauffeur's eyes and released his hold of the revolver. Wampus
looked at it, grunted, and put it in his pocket.

"Now the other gun," he said.

The fellow drew back and half turned, as if to escape.

"No, no!" said Wampus, as if annoyed. "You give me gun. See—I am
Wampus!"

Sheepishly enough the Mexican surrendered the other weapon.

"Now turn aroun' an' go to hotel," commanded the chauffeur.

The man obeyed. Wampus turned to the girls, who were now not only
relieved but on the verge of laughter and said deprecatingly:

"Do not be scare, for poor man he make no harm. He jus' try a
goozle—no dare shoot here in town. Then come; I go back with you."

Silently they accompanied him along the lane, the Mexican keeping in
front and looking around from time to time to see if they followed.
A short distance from the hotel Wampus gave a queer whistle which
brought the bandit cringing to his side. Without ado he handed the
fellow his two revolvers and said calmly: "Go 'long."

The Mexican "went along" briskly and the dusk soon swallowed him up.

"Thank you, Wampus," said Patsy, gratefully; "you've saved us from a
dreadful experience."

"Oh, that!" snapping his fingers scornfully. "He not a good bad-man,
for he too much afraid. I have no gun, for I do not like gun. Still,
if I not come, he make you give him money an' trinkets."

"You were very kind," replied Beth, "and I thank you as much as Patsy
does. If you had not arrived just when you did I might have killed the
man."

"You?" inquired Wampus, doubtingly.

"Yes." She showed him a small pearl-handled revolver which she carried
in the pocket of her jacket. "I can shoot, Wampus."

The little chauffeur grinned; then looked grave and shook his head.

"It make funny world, these day," said he. "One time girl from city
would scream to see a gun; now she carry him in pocket an' can shoot!
Ver' fine; ver' fine. But I like me old style girl who make scream.
Then a man not feel foolish when he try protect her."

Patsy laughed merrily; but Beth saw he was offended and hastened to
say:

"I am very grateful to you, Wampus, and I know you are a brave and
true man. I shall expect you to protect me at all times, for I really
don't wish to shoot anyone, although I think it best to carry a
revolver. Always after this, before I am tempted to fire, I shall look
to see if you are not near me."

"All right," he said more cheerfully. "I am Wampus. I will be there,
Miss 'Lizbeth."

Little Myrtle grew brighter day by day. She even grew merry and
developed a fine sense of humor, showing new traits in her hitherto
undeveloped character. The girl never mentioned her injury nor
admitted that she suffered any pain, even when directly questioned.
Indeed she was not uncomfortable during that splendid automobile ride
over mountain and plain into the paradise of the glowing West. Never
before in her life had Myrtle enjoyed an outing, except for an hour or
two in a city park; never before had she known a friend to care for
her and sympathize honestly with her griefs. Therefore this experience
was so exquisitely delightful that her responsive heart nearly burst
with gratitude. Pretty thoughts came to her that she had never had
before; her luxurious surroundings led her to acquire dainty ways and
a composed and self-poised demeanor.

"Our rosebud is unfolding, petal by petal, and beginning to bloom
gloriously," said Patsy to sympathetic Uncle John. "Could anyone be
more sweet or lovely?"

Perhaps almost any girl, situated as Myrtle Dean was, would have
blossomed under similar influences. Certain it was that Uncle John
came to have a tender affection for the poor child, while the Major's
big heart had warmed from the first toward the injured girl. Beth and
Patsy were devoted to their new friend and even Mumbles was never so
happy as when Myrtle would hold and caress him. Naturally the former
waif responded freely to all this wealth of affection and strove to be
companionable and cheery, that they might forget as much as possible
her physical helplessness.

Mumbles was not the least important member of the party, but proved
a constant source of amusement to all. In the novel domains they now
traversed the small dog's excitable nature led him to investigate
everything that seemed suspicious, but he was so cowardly, in spite of
this, that once when Patsy let him down to chase a gopher or prairie
dog—they were not sure which—the animal turned at bay and sent
Mumbles retreating with his stubby tail between his legs. His
comradeship for Wampus surprised them all. The Canadian would talk
seriously to the dog and tell it long stories as if the creature could
understand every word—which perhaps he did. Mumbles would sit up
between the driver and Patsy and listen attentively, which encouraged
Wampus to talk until Patsy in self-defense turned and tossed the fuzzy
animal in to Myrtle, who was always glad to receive him.

But Patsy did not always sit on the front seat. That honor was divided
among them all, by turns, except the Major, who did not care for the
place. Yet I think Patsy rode there oftener than anyone else, and it
came to be considered her special privilege because she had first
claimed it.

The Major, after the incident at Gallup, did not scorn Wampus so
openly as before; but he still reserved a suspicion that the fellow
was at heart a coward and a blusterer. The chauffeur's sole demerit in
the eyes of the others was his tremendous egotism. The proud remark:
"I am Wampus!" was constantly on his lips and he had wonderful tales
to tell to all who would listen of his past experiences, in every one
of which he unblushingly figured as the hero. But he really handled
the big touring car in an admirable manner, and when one afternoon
a tire was punctured by a cactus spine by the roadside—their first
accident—they could not fail to admire the dexterous manner in which
he changed the tube for a new one.

From Gallup they took a wagon road to Fort Defiance, in the Navajo
Indian reservation; but the Navajos proved uninteresting people, not
even occupying themselves in weaving the famous Navajo blankets, which
are now mostly made in Philadelphia. Even Patsy, who had longed to
"see the Indians in their native haunts," was disgusted by their filth
and laziness, and the party expected no better results when they came
to the adjoining Moki reservation. Here, however, they were happily
disappointed, for they arrived at the pueblo of Oraibi, one of
the prettiest villages on the mesa, on the eve of one of their
characteristic snake dances, and decided to remain over night and
see the performance. Now I am not sure but the "Snake Dance" was so
opportune because Uncle John had a private interview with the native
chieftain, at which the head Snake Priest and the head Antelope Priest
of the tribe were present. These Indians spoke excellent English and
the chief loved the white man's money, so a ceremony that has been
held during the month of August for many centuries—long before the
Spanish conquistadors found this interesting tribe—was found to be on
tap for that very evening. The girls were tremendously excited at the
prospect and Wampus was ordered to prepare camp for the night—the
first they had spent in their automobile and away from a hotel. Not
only was the interior of the roomy limousine converted into sleeping
quarters for the three girls, but a tent was spread, one side fastened
to the car while the other was staked to the ground. Three wire
folding cots came from some hidden place beneath the false bottom of
the car, with bedding enough to supply them, and these were for the
use of the men in the tent. The two "bedrooms" having been thus
prepared, Wampus lighted the tiny gasoline stove, over which Patsy and
Beth enthusiastically cooked the supper. Beth wanted to "Newburg" the
tinned lobster, and succeeded in creaming it very nicely. They had
potato chips, coffee and toasted Holland rusks, as well, and all
thoroughly enjoyed the improvised meal.

Their camp had been pitched just at the outskirts of the Indian
village, but the snake dance was to take place in a rocky glen some
distance away from the pueblo and so Uncle John instructed Wampus to
remain and guard their outfit, as the Moki are notorious thieves. They
left the lean little chauffeur perched upon the driver's seat, smoking
one of his "stogie" cigars and with Mumbles sitting gravely beside
him.

Myrtle hobbled on her crutches between Beth and Patsy, who carried
little tin lanterns made with lamp chimneys that had candles inside
them. They first visited the chief, who announced that the ceremonies
were about to begin. At a word from this imposing leader a big Indian
caught up Myrtle and easily carried her on his shoulder, as if she
were light as a feather, leading the way to the rocky amphitheatre.
Here were assembled all the inhabitants of the village, forming a wide
circle around the performers. The snakes were in a pit dug in the
center of the space, over which a few branches had been placed. This
is called the "kisi."

These unique and horrifying snake dances of the Moki have been
described so often that I need not speak of this performance in
detail. Before it was half over the girls wished they were back in
their automobile; but the Major whispered that for them to leave would
cause great offense to the Indians and might result in trouble. The
dance is supposedly a religious one, in honor of the Rain God, and at
first the snakes were not used, but as the dancers became wrought up
and excited by their antics one by one they reached within the kisi
and drew out a snake, allowing the reptiles to coil around their
almost naked bodies and handling them with seeming impunity. A few
were harmless species, as bull snakes and arrow snakes; but mostly the
Moki used rattlesnakes, which are native to the mesa and its rocky
cliffs. Some travelers have claimed that the fangs of the rattlers are
secretly withdrawn before the creatures are handled, but this has been
proved to be untrue. The most accepted theory is that the snakes are
never permitted to coil, and cannot strike unless coiled, while the
weird chanting and graceful undulating motions of the dancers in some
manner "charms" or intoxicates the serpents, which are not aroused to
antagonism. Occasionally, however, one of the Moki priests is bitten,
in which case nothing is done to aid him and he is permitted to die,
it being considered a judgment of the Rain God for some sin he has
committed.

The barbaric rites seemed more picturesque, as well as more revolting,
in that they took place by the flickering light of torches and
bonfires in a rock strewn plain usually claimed by nature. When the
dancers were more frenzied they held the squirming serpents in their
mouths by the middle and allowed them to coil around their necks,
dancing wildly the while. The whole affair was so nauseating and
offensive that as soon as it was possible the visitors withdrew and
retired to their "camp." It was now almost midnight, but the path was
lighted by the little lanterns they carried.