"I am sorry," spoke Hawk, edging more closely toward Star.
The other pony moved quickly and rubbed his nose against Hawk's shoulder, saying, "I'm sorry, too. I was to blame, but I do like to listen to them talking."
"Let me go with you now and hear them," suggested Hawk.
"Yes, go!" said Running Deer, and she watched the two ponies trotting together toward the Old White Horse and the Big Gray Horse, who showed their pleasure at having the youngsters join them.
A couple of hours later as the ponies rested beside the big horses under the shade of a tree, Star scrambled hastily to his feet, saying, "Songbird is calling me. Good-bye!"
It did not take long for him to reach her side. She was standing before the opening of the big tepee and a short tether was in her hand. Star bent his head so that she could slip the crude bridle back of his ears and around his nose, but there was no bit to be thrust into his mouth.
Then without saddle or blanket she prepared to mount. Grasping his shaggy mane in her strong little hands, she sprawled against his side and balanced her body across his back, after which she wriggled until she sat erect, with the single strand of rawhide in her left hand.
Star knew that the pressure of her knee meant for him to turn one way or the other. When she leaned forward and her bare brown legs clamped closely against his body, the pony understood, without whip or spur, that he must go faster. The lightest pull on the rawhide loop around his nose caused him to stop at once. Besides all this, the tones of Songbird's voice guided him, and he always did his best to obey and please her, because he loved her.
Often Songbird's pet fawn accompanied them. The fawn thought it great sport to out-run the pony, but at times Star reached slyly to nip the little creature, which took delight in teasing the pony and getting in front of it.
Some days the other Comanche children rode with Songbird, and when they raced their ponies Star could easily outdistance the rest. Most of the children rode the old ponies that were too stiff to be of value in trades. The Comanches traded ponies instead of using money like white people. The children bragged one to the other, about the number of ponies his, or her, father owned, and how fast those ponies could run. Songbird did not talk like the rest. Everyone knew that her father, Quannah, had the most ponies of any warrior in any Indian tribe, and that his ponies were faster and more beautiful than all others.