“But I’ve got to go,” he pleaded. “This may mean everything to John, and Don, and, yes, to you and Ralph too. I’m the only one who knows how to operate the ‘ear.’ I’m going right now. And you’re going to help me!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Think Like a Dog
“But how do I go about feeling like a dog?” Sandy groaned after he had explained his plan of action.
“You shouldn’t have any trouble about that.” Kitty smiled tenderly as she patted the last strip of bandage in place on his cheek. “You must feel awful.”
“That’s not what I mean. When Ralph went into Cavanaugh’s camp at Elbow Rock he wore a dog skin and made himself smell like a dog. But he said that wasn’t enough. He also had to feel and think like one. There’s a skin in the jeep. And you must know a kennel where I can roll around and get the smell. But how about the rest of it?
“Of course I’ve read The Call of the Wild, but that’s only Jack London’s idea of how dogs think. What I’ve got to find out quick is how they really feel.”
“I am an Indian,” Mrs. Gonzales spoke up suddenly. “Indians are wise in the ways of animals. You have heard that Indians of the old days were the world’s best horsemen, although they used no saddles, and sometimes no bridles. Why? I say it was because they could talk with their horses. Yes, and they honored their mounts as no other people have ever done by printing what was called a pat hand on the rumps of those who helped them win battles.” She held up the palm of her hand to show what she meant.
“Then there are our totems. Animals, all of them. To be a member of the buffalo clan, a young brave had to study the wild herds until he knew their every thought—what frightened them, what pastures they preferred, their mating habits. All that.
“What of the great cattle and sheep herds in which modern Navajos take such pride? They thrive where it seems only jack rabbits could live because their herdsmen understand their every need, care for them as if they were children, and weep, as for children, when they are injured or die.
“And consider the Hopi snake dances. Why should the rattlers not bite the dancers, except that they are friends? You do not believe me, Sandy?”