There were many little streams of clear water and plenty of good feed, and Star would have been quite happy had he not been anxious about his mother, Quannah, and the Comanche pony herd. Songbird, he believed quite safe in the camp with the women, papooses, and old men who had been too aged or feeble to join the warriors in the fight.
It took a week for Star to reach the top of a gentle slope from which he looked down upon the camp. Smoke was rising lazily from fires in the tepees, children were playing in front of their homes, and the squaws were moving about attending to their everyday work. But as the pony looked, it seemed strange not to see even one animal of the immense Comanche pony herd.
"Suppose I should never see them again!" he thought for the first time. "Maybe the white men will take my mother away, too!"
Unable to resist his feeling of loneliness and fear, Star lifted his head and called loudly, though he knew perfectly well that all the ponies were with Quannah, and that it had taken a journey of one week to get to this camp. Of course he did not expect an answer, but he gave call after call. Even the sound of his own voice made it seem less lonesome just now.
A squaw, carrying a bundle of dry faggots on her bent back, was the first to hear him, and after the first glance her cry of surprise brought other women from the tepees. Someone called to Songbird, and as the child ran out of her father's big tepee, Star gave a shrill nicker and raced pell-mell down the slope until he gained her side. Songbird's arms wound around his neck, and his head bent low, while he listened to the loving words of his little mistress and felt her soft hands caress him.
The other children gathered, while the squaws talked among themselves, each one trying to understand how Star had come alone to the camp. Many of them were certain that Quannah and his warriors were returning, and that Star had just galloped ahead to find Songbird.
They hastened to assure the child that this was the only solution to the puzzle, and so they left Songbird and Star and hastened to make preparations for the returning warriors, who would be very hungry and tired after so long a journey.
Star followed Songbird when she climbed the hill, where they watched together while below them the other children and all the women rushed about preparing a great feast. But the hours passed, and when it was too dark to see anything except the flickering fires and the shadowy figures near the light, Songbird and Star moved slowly down the hillside. The pony's head drooped, for he was very tired, and Songbird's cheeks were streaked where she had wiped away tears that she must not allow any one except Star to see, for she was the daughter of the chief. Moko gave a sharp glance at Songbird, then spoke in a low voice.
"Quannah will come, and I shall paint a robe for him, and it will show how he conquered the white men, and I shall paint Songbird, the daughter of Quannah, and Star, the colt of Running Deer, waiting for the return of Quannah and his warriors."
Songbird looked soberly at Moko. "What will you paint if my father does not come back again, Moko?"