"They will come back," answered Moko, looking through the opening of the tepee and across the prairie, as though she saw the mother and the baby coming toward the camp. "The white men took them away, but the Great Spirit will bring her back to her own people. The white men are strong and many, but the Great Spirit is stronger. The white men will do as the Great Spirit bids, and Preloch and Prairie Flower will come back again with honour, and her husband, Peta Nocona, will be honoured, and the white men will honour their son, Quannah, Chief of the Quahadas."
"When will they come, Moko?" whispered Songbird, her eyes shining with joy. "My father speaks many times of his wish to bring them back so that some day he may sleep beside them among our people."
"Only the Great Spirit knows," the Picture Maker said, and her white head bent over the wrinkled hands that lay idly in her lap. "I am old and weary with sorrow. Before many moons I shall hear the cry of the Great Eagle, but you, the daughter of Quannah, shall see and know that I have spoken the truth this day. Preloch and Prairie Flower will come back to the Quahadas. The trees, the wind, the stars have given me this promise because I am old and weary and cannot stay with my people much longer, but I know it is the truth, for the Great Spirit watches over us all, and he is just."
So months passed in the Comanche village, and there was great rejoicing when the big buffalo robe had been finished and hung in the tent of Quannah.
Songbird often sat before it when she was alone, and as she looked at it, she remembered Moko's promise that some day Preloch and Prairie Flower would come back to the Quahadas with honour. She knew that it would make her father very happy, but she asked the Great Spirit to bring them back very soon, so that Moko might see them once more before the call of the Great Eagle came to the old Picture Maker who had loved Preloch so dearly.
While Songbird had been helping with the robe and listening to Moko's tales, Star had been learning many things about the white people from the Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse. Running Deer tolerated the two cavalry horses, but she never became their friend. Hawk, after grazing with them and Star for a few days, deserted them. When Star asked the reason, Hawk whirled and faced him.
"I like the Indian ponies better," was his reply. "The strange horses talk of things I never heard about."
"That is just why I listen to them," said Star.
Hawk yawned sleepily. "What good does it do you to know about those things? All I want to know is where to find the best grass and clearest pools of water, and what tree casts the heaviest shadow when the sun is hot."
"You do not belong to the chief," retorted Star. "A chief must know more than his people, so that he can lead them, and the ponies of a chief should know other things besides eating and drinking and sleeping. That is why I like to hear the Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse talk."