Billy's mother and father had come to Arizona for a special reason. Billy's father was a writer, and he had come for information on the Navajo Indians for a new book he was writing. Every day he would go to the Indian villages, sit among the big chiefs and medicine men (who are the wise ones among the Indians and are supposed to work charms which cure the sick) and he would jot down in his notebook many things which they told him.
Billy went with his father the first few days, but he didn't care much for the way they sat around and did nothing but talk. Billy was a very active boy and he soon grew tired of listening to the droning voices of the Indian men, and the scratching of Father's pencil. At last he told Father how it was, and Father laughed.
"I thought you were going to write, too, Billy," he said. "You'll never find out about the Indians if you don't take the trouble to listen—and then you'll never win that composition contest you've been dreaming about."
It was true that Billy, since he had left New York, had dreamed of nothing else but the composition contest. Many of his friends at home were already struggling with their compositions, for the prize was worth striving for—a wonderful radio set, the very latest model.
"I TRADE MY BLANKET FOR PAPOOSE DOLL!"
And how the others had envied him, for he was to go to Arizona and live among the Indians where he would be sure to learn so much of interest and send in a true account of the lives of American Indians. The contest was open to any composition dealing with children of any particular race or country, and was to reveal their habits and customs.
"Oh! You'll win it easily, Bill," his chum had said. "Indians are such interesting people, and you'll find out all about them if you stick to your dad."
And Billy had been fired with ambition, when he had left, and when he had first arrived. But the novelty of the idea was gradually wearing off and he seemed to like far more to gallop over the country on his pony, Peanuts, than to glean knowledge. Especially since his meeting with Bah did he look forward each morning to his ride. And each day he tried to find the Indian girl and went many times to the cornfield. But she was never there and, try as he might, Billy could not find her village.
Father did not wait for Billy to answer him, but said: "Well, old man, I can see the radio set gradually taking wings and broadcasting itself! You'll never win it this way, you know—and you'd have a good chance, too, if you'd come along and listen to some of the old fellows I'm chumming with each day."