The Little Indian Weaver Read online

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  BAH, THE LITTLE INDIAN WEAVER]

  _The_ LITTLEINDIAN WEAVER

  BYMADELINE BRANDEIS

  _Producer of the Motion Pictures_

  "The Little Indian Weaver""The Wee Scotch Piper""The Little Dutch Tulip Girl""The Little Swiss Wood-Carver"

  Distributed by Pathe Exchange, Inc., New York City

  _Photographic Illustrations by the Author_

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

  _by arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company_

  _COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY_

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  To every child of every land, Little sister, little brother, As in this book your lives unfold, May you learn to love each other.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter I Page

  The Corn Ear Doll 9

  Chapter II

  Something Terrible Happens 32

  Chapter III

  At the Trading Post 43

  Chapter IV

  The Prayer Stick 62

  Chapter V

  At Bah's Hogan 75

  Chapter VI

  Billy Starts His Story 88

  Chapter VII

  All About the Indians 101

  Chapter VIII

  Who Wins the Radio? 119

  BAH AND CORNELIA]

  The Little Indian Weaver

  CHAPTER I

  THE CORN EAR DOLL

  How would you like to have a doll made from a corn ear? That is theonly kind of doll that Bah ever thought of having. Bah was only fiveyears old and she had never been away from her home, so of course shecouldn't know very much.

  But she knew a bit about weaving blankets, and she was learning moreeach day from her mother, who made beautiful ones and sold them.

  You see, Bah and her mother were American Indians, and they belongedto the Navajo tribe. Their home was on the Navajo Reservation inArizona, and they called it an Indian village. But if you went thereyou would not think it very much of a village in comparison to thevillages you know.

  As a matter of fact, all you could see was a row of funny little roundhouses, looking very much like large beehives, put together with mudand sticks and called hogans. A street of hogans in each of which liveda whole family of Indians, a few goats and sheep, a stray dog or two,an Indian woman sitting outside her hogan weaving a blanket, perhaps achild running with a dog--this, then, was a Navajo village.

  THE LITTLE INDIAN WEAVER]

  How different from your villages with their smooth stone buildings,their stores and gasoline stations, and pretty shrub-covered bungalows!

  Most Indian women have many babies, and the whole family livestogether in one room which is the living room, bedroom, kitchen anddining room all rolled into one. In the top of the hogan is a hole, sothat the smoke from the cooking fire in the middle of the room can goout.

  Bah did not spend much time in her hogan. No sooner was she up in themorning than she was outside gathering sticks for the breakfast fire.From the time she put her little brown face outside the hogan door,bright and early in the morning, until nightfall when she cuddled downin her warm Navajo blanket, she was out in the air--and the air is sofresh out there in the desert; so much fresher than it is in the bigsmoky cities.

  Bah was a bright-eyed, healthy little girl, and the way she dressedwill sound queer to you, for her clothes were made just like hermother's. On rainy days you have no doubt "dressed up" in mother'sclothes and thought it quite a lark. But when the game was over, howglad you were to come back to your own little dresses and short socks.

  But Bah had always dressed in the same way--and that is, in a long fullcotton skirt, a calico waist with long sleeves, and many strings ofbright beads about her neck. Her hair was long, black and shiny, andher mother tied it up in a knot at the back of her neck with a whitecloth.

  Every morning Bah had a lesson in weaving, just as you have a drawinglesson or a sewing lesson. Her father had made her a tiny loom whichstood outside the hogan door next to her mother's big loom.

  The morning when Bah planned the corn ear doll she was in the midst ofher weaving lesson. Mother's fingers were flying in and out, and Bah'sfingers were slow--oh, so slow, but her mind was not. Her mind was atwork on a doll. She had once seen the picture of a doll, a real one. Itwas such a lovely doll! She wanted to cuddle it. How she would love tohug a doll close to her and rock it to sleep!

  The corn was ripe in the field which was not far away. After the lessonshe would pick an ear of corn, dry it nicely and dress it in a weeIndian blanket. She would make some beads for its neck. She would stickin two black beads for eyes. She would--

  "Bah! you do not heed the lesson!"

  It was Mother. And Mother was scolding. There were few times in Bah'slife when she could remember Mother having been cross. Bah was at onceattentive.

  "I am sorry, Ma Shima (my mother)," she said, in the Navajo language."I was dreaming of something sweet."

  "It is bad medicine to dream when one is awake, Bah," said Mother."You will never learn to weave--and a Navajo woman who cannot weaveblankets is indeed a useless one."

  Bah hung her head in shame. But Mother laughed.

  "Do not look that way, my little one, but try now to make the littlepattern which I teach you."

  Bah did try. She had to rip out several rows of bad weaving caused byher dreams of her corn ear doll. But not once, until the lesson wasover, did Bah think again of the doll.

  The weaving lesson was at last over, and Bah ran quickly to thecornfield, where she began to look eagerly for a proper ear of cornwith which to make a proper Indian doll.

  As she was looking through the many waving stalks, she thought sheheard her name being called. But was it her name, and was it beingcalled? It sounded more like singing than like calling--and Mother didnot sing.

  "Bah, Bah, Black Sheep Have you any wool?"

  This is what Bah heard.

  She stopped in her search and looked around. There, a few yards away,was some one coming towards her on a pony. Bah's first thought was torun. She did not want to meet a stranger. So few came here to her home,where the only people the little girl ever saw were Mother, Father,and the few Indians who lived nearby.

  White people were mysterious to Bah, and yet she often wondered aboutthe white children and how they played and worked and what they did allday in school. Bah would go to school next year--to the big new schooljust built on the Reservation for Indian children. White people builtit, and so it must be like the white children's school. Sometimes shelonged to go--and other times she was just a little bit afraid.

  "Yes, sir, yes, sir, Three bags full."

  The pony which Bah had seen from a distance was now standing besideher, and she could see the rider, although he could not see her, forshe had hidden and was crouching between the cornstalks.

  BAH'S HOME]

  The rider was a very small person--a boy--a white boy. Bah reallydidn't feel as though he should be classified as white, for his skinwas a mixture of orange and brown--orange where the sun had burned him,and over that a pattern of vivid brown freckles. Bah had never beforeseen anything like him, and it is no wonder that the timid littleIndian hid herself.

  The speckled boy took off his large cowboy hat and wiped his hot browwith a cowboy's handkerchief.

  "Gee, it's hot, Peanuts," he said aloud to the pony. "And I'd like toknow the way back--but looks as if we're lost."

&nb
sp; Peanuts was presumably bored, for he let his head sink slowly, closedhis eyes and patiently waited for the next move. None came.

  Bah, in her hiding place, was as dumb, if not as bored, as Peanuts. Shewas tense with excitement, which obviously Peanuts was not, and did nottake her eyes from the boy's face. His every move very much interestedher. Here, then, was a white boy. He must be white, for he was not anIndian and he spoke English.

  Bah understood English, and of that she was very proud. Her mother andfather had always traded with the white man, so they had learned tospeak English, and had wisely taught their little girl. Now how mucheasier it would be for Bah when she started to school.

  But her knowledge did not help her at the moment when she looked upfrom her cornstalk hiding place into the face of a live white boy.Indeed she had even decided to run away, and was crawling noiselesslythrough the corn.

  "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,"

  again the boy began to sing as he started to turn away. Bah stoppedcrawling. He did sing her name. He wanted her to come back. Maybe shecould help him find his way. And Oh! the pony was stepping all over thecorn. Didn't he know better than to do that?

  The cornstalks rustled. The pony jumped to the side, and the boy turnedin his saddle and saw Bah standing.

  "Oh, hello!" he said and turned back--the pony trampling upon abeautiful stalk of corn. "I didn't see you before. Where were you?"

  Bah couldn't speak. She tried ever so hard, but the English words sheknew so well would not come.

  The boy jumped down from his pony and went up to her. There was a smileon his face and as he came closer she saw that his eyes were as blue asthe sky. That part of him was pretty, thought Bah, even if his skin wasnot--and the smile was friendly. So she gained courage.

  "You call my name?" she ventured.

  The boy looked puzzled.

  "No," he said, "I don't know your name, but I'm glad I've found you."

  Again he smiled, and this time Bah smiled too.

  "My name Bah," she said, "and you say 'Bah, Bah, back skip'--I thinkyou call me come back to you."

  When it suddenly dawned upon the boy what she meant he opened his mouthvery wide indeed and laughed so hard that Bah again began to be afraid.But he stopped suddenly, realizing perhaps that he had frightened her,and said:

  "Oh, no. That is a song we sing about 'black sheep' that goes 'bahbah'! I didn't know you heard me singing it."

  Bah looked a bit ashamed, and did not offer a reply. The boy kept ontalking--

  "But, gee, where do you come from, Bah? Is your house around here?"

  "Yes," said Bah. "Hogan over way, Bah come to find corn in cornfield."

  "Oh, I see," said the boy, "for dinner, I guess."

  "No," replied the Indian girl, looking up into his face, "Bah make sopretty doll from corn ear. Will dress in blanket and beads. You eversee little girl's doll?"

  She looked so intent and innocent that the boy could not scoff at whatwould have been, among members of his own group at home, a subjectentirely forbidden in the presence of growing gentlemen. Dolls! Whatinterest had he in dolls! But as he looked into the upturned face ofthe little brown maiden, he suddenly realized that she had never heardof a boy's dislike for dolls; in fact, she had probably never beforemet a white boy nor seen a white doll.

  "Oh, yes, plenty of 'em," answered the white boy, "but never made of anear of corn--"

  Then, seeing a shadow pass over her face he resumed gallantly, "But itought to make a peach of a doll. Maybe I could help you make it."

  Now Bah was certain that she would like the white boy. She had neverbefore had a human playmate, and the feeling was a pleasant one. Butshe remembered that her new friend was lost.

  "You no can find way home?" she asked.

  The boy laughed.

  "I guess you want to get rid of me," he said. Then, sobering, heresumed. "Yes, really, I'm lost. Peanuts and I have been wandering allmorning. You see, we started from Tuba early and we just didn't watchthe trails, so here we are."

  "Oh, Tuba," said Bah, "not so very far. I show you how to go."

  "But first I'll help you fix up a corn doll," said the boy. "We'llfirst have to find a good fat corn ear. Nice fat dolls are the best,don't you think so?"

  As he talked he began looking through the cornstalks, and Bah watchedhim. He finally found what he considered to be an ideal ear, andtogether the two children made it into a doll, black bead eyes,cornsilk hair, blanket, and all.

  "I have just the name for her," said the boy. "We'll call her'Cornelia!' Shall we?"

  Bah nodded happily. The name was a new one to her and she did not catchits meaning in relation to her beautiful new doll, but it pleased hernevertheless. In fact, everything about the boy pleased her, and shewas sorry when at last he said:

  BAH AND CORNELIA]

  "It must be getting late. You'd better tell me how to get home. Motherwill wonder what happened."

  Bah pointed out directions and the boy, thanking her, held out his handand said: "You never even asked my name. Don't you want to know?"

  Bah drooped her head shyly as she replied: "Indian never ask name. Verybad manner."

  The white boy's eyes opened wide.

  "That's funny," he said. "Then how do you get to know people's names?"

  "When one people like other people, they tell name. No ask," said Bahseriously.

  "Oh, then I'll tell you quick 'cause I like you. My name's Billy."

  Bah did not reply, but stood watching Billy as he swung himself ontohis pony. Then, when he was seated and smiled down at her, she smiledup sweetly and said:

  "We have cow named Billy."

  BILLY]