“Brothers, he stole our horse. From our own wild herd. We have been greatly harassed. Punishment is just. If we make not example of the bird in the hand, how deal with the bird uncaught? There is peace between us and our white brothers but—our white brothers still steal our horses. This youth is swift of aim; he is proud; a Pueblo of whom to say: ‘Behold, a brave!’ His father—” a suggestive shrug of the shoulders intimated that this unknown father was recreant and had deserted his offspring. “Let him be to us a son and she our daughter. This is my wisdom.”
Then the council gravely laid the matter before the youthful prisoner and listened closely to his simple reply, which, acting as interpreters, old Paula and Carlota eagerly translated.
“On my father’s rancho are many herds of horses. All are wild. I did not ask to whom they belonged. When I wished I sought one, as I did from yours. I have been taught the art. I am not a thief. I, I would not have ‘stolen,’ no. Not if I walked all the days of my life. But I thought the free creatures of the plains were God’s, alone. Well, then; if I did wrong I will take punishment, as should the son of man who is brave. After you have done your will I will go. Nothing can make me stay. My father has not forever left his children. Since he comes not it is because, for some reason I do not know, that he cannot. My sister and I will go to him, and tell him this story. He will restore what is due. I owe nothing to anyone except good will, and that I will pay as I may. Moreover—you still have the horse—and I broke him for you.”
The naive conclusion of the argument was so consistent with the childish pleader that some of those stern judges smiled. After all, he was but a boy and he spoke the truth; and the old chief who would have liked to rear the youngster as his own was even more desirous now. But he was just, and it was he who first extended the hand-clasp of peace.
Radiant with joy at their dismissal, the twins left the hall of justice and returned where they had left Dennis. He had vanished, yet, while they were searching the many roofs they heard his voice in one of the courtyards below.
“Hark! The foolish fellow! He imagines that hallooing so loud will make them understand him as well as if he knew their language!” said Carlota, with a little air of superiority. Indeed! Where would they have been now if she hadn’t been able to talk with old Paula?
“Ha, Carlota! I’m learning some lessons, too, of another sort—these days. I’ll lasso no more horses till I know whose they are! But, come on! It’s so good to be free again and Dennis is surely getting into trouble. Why, what’s the matter with his arm?”
As they descended to the court and the Irishman, Carlota explained. He was now trying to “swop” with a young Indian; his broncho for a pack-burro.
“Hurry! Tell them, sister! He’ll make them mad, directly, and—I don’t wish any more Pueblo anger, if you please! It wasn’t of the noisy kind but—I’ll be glad when we’re once more on the road toward our father, and I wish we hadn’t to go back to the Burnhams. While I was alone in that horrible darkness, I did a lot of thinking, and I believe that father went to the big city of New York, where the ‘enemies’ came from, on some business for the rich men who own the mountains he ‘prospected.’ Anyway, I think that’s where we’d best seek him.”
“Isn’t that a far, far place? Is it in the ‘north’?”