The Flute of the Gods

by Marah Ellis Ryan

“You have studied much in books––you have learned much from men,” said Don Ruy––“You could change the minds of these people in this matter.”

Tahn-té looked kindly on him, but shook his head.

“Not in the ages of ten men can you change the mind of the men you called Indian,” he said, “in my one life I could not make them see this as you see it––yet am I called strong among them. Also I could not tell them that the way of the white priest when he breaks the bones in torture until the breath goes, is a better way than to take the heart quickly for the god! That would be a lie if I said it, and true magic does not come to the man who knows that he is himself a teller of lies!”

The men of the council went their separate ways to sleep in the kivas, well content that the angry god was to be appeased at the rising of the sun,––and Don Ruy rolled himself in his blanket and lay near the door where Ysobel and her husband lived apart from the camp, with only the secretary inside their walls. But Don Ruy slept little––and cursed the heathenish logic of Tahn-té, and wished him to the devil.

And stealthily as a serpent in the grasses,––or a panther in the hills, Tahn-té sped from the council of sacrifice, to the hills where he knew a girl had waited long for his coming.

Little thought gave he to trailers. The night before had been the night of the scalp dance––and now the trembling earth, and the council, had left the 303 men weary for the rest of sleep. He ran swiftly and steadily in the open as any courier to Shufinne might run.

But those of the Tain-tsain clan who followed, noted that he did not go to Shufinne,––he climbed instead the steeps where they were to climb, and for that reason their coming was stealthy, and the cleverest men were sent ahead, and all said prayers and cast prayer meal to the gods,––for this was a strange thing the white priest had seen in a vision––it was to be proven if he was of the prophets!

The two couriers of the clan knew it was proven when they saw the two dead people near the head of the stone stairway. And when they heard the sobs of a woman within the dwelling of the Reader of the Stars in the ancient days––also the soothing tones of a man,––they crept back into the shadows and told the leaders. And a circle of men was made about the place, and in silence they waited.

Ere their hearts had ceased to beat quickly from the run, that which they waited for stepped forth;––a man to whom a creature clung––her face was hidden against his breast, and he led her with care lest she see the dead people on the stairway––for the Navahu shrinks more than another from sight or touch of the dead!

“There are other places––and safe places,” he said to her and held her close. “Does not the bluebird find nesting place in the forest? And does not her mate find her there in the summer nights?”