Chapter IX
Two hours before sunset Star awakened from his sound sleep, but the white horse only lifted its head long enough to blink at the Comanche pony as it rolled over. Then Star scrambled to his feet and gave a hard shake of his body, which is the way a pony stretches after a good nap.
Running Deer was not far off, so the colt joined her, and after an exchange of gentle bites, they moved slowly away from the herd, grazing as they went. Star told his mother all that the troop horse had been talking about, and Running Deer was as much surprised as her colt had been, for she had no idea of how white men lived.
The two Comanche ponies were so interested in their conversation that neither of them noticed they had wandered quite a distance from the herd. The Indians on guard over the other ponies had not tried to stop Star or Running Deer, because all the Comanches knew that neither of these ponies would stray far away. But the rolling hills stretched temptingly, and at times Star and his mother raced after each other, kicking up their heels or even lying down to roll and kick, then jumping up to dash away side by side. When the sun dropped out of the sky Running Deer was startled, and reminded her colt that they must go back at once.
They were standing on a little knoll overlooking a shallow depression between a group of small hills. The sun had disappeared, but like a warrior's banner beautiful crimson rays were flung across the deep blue sky. The cool evening breeze twisted its fingers in the ponies' manes, lifting the heavy black hair and tumbling it across their eyes, so that it tickled their ears until Star tossed his head. The only sound was the song of a mockingbird guarding the nest on which its mate sat patiently with her wings spread over the little ones that the night air might not chill them. The grassy slopes were studded with wild flowers, many of which, sleepy from their long day's play with the breeze, nodded on their stems with their petals folded as though their hands were clasped in prayer.
Here and there jack-rabbits, their long ears perked nervously, twisted to see if any danger threatened, then dropping on all four feet they hopped, and chased one another in play, or nibbled at the grass roots. An antelope with her fawn at her side appeared for an instant on one of the hilltops, her head lifted alertly, her nostrils twitching as she sniffed the air. She started, whirled on her slender legs, then with her fawn dashed out of sight.
Running Deer watched her go, but Star spoke and she looked at him.
"Now that we have the ponies of the white men, they cannot follow us any more," he was saying. "But I like the old white horse, and I am glad that he is going to stay with us. He is a very wise animal, I think, and I am going to ask him to tell me all he knows, then I shall be wise, too!"
Before his mother could reply, the sharp "Yip, yip, yip" from a distant point warned the two ponies that the coyotes were gathering for the night. Both Star and Running Deer snorted and glanced quickly about, to see if any had crept too near.
They knew the ways of the small gray wolves. Each night at sunset the pack followed its leader to a point where he could command a view for some distance. Then he squatted silently, watching everything with his keen, green eyes while his pointed nose sniffed the wind for hidden foes or some animal that would furnish the pack with food.