There was a tense instant. A single shrill war whoop rang out down in the ravine and then all was quiet. For,—out of the stillness, came an insistent rattle, like the whirr of some huge desert rattlesnake. It seemed to come from the cave opposite, and the Indians’ quick ears directed all their faces that way. Sid seized the moment when no eyes were on him to toss up the canteen, where it disappeared over the rim of the rock pillar.
The whirr from the cave continued. Then a thin trickle of smoke came weaving out from the edges of its floor. A kind of gasp came from all the Navaho below, and into the medicine men’s eyes near Sid there crept an expression of superstitious fear. More smoke wafted out, as they all watched. It had a greenish tinge, then bluish.
“Ganhi! Ganhi!” rose the indistinct, awe-stricken murmur from the crowd, while the weaker ones turned to flee. It needed but a touch to stampede them all!
Then from the black depths of the cave, towards its mouth, floated the weirdest object the boys had ever looked on! It was immensely tall, filling the whole aperture from top to bottom. It had neither arms nor legs; and what might be a head was a mass of feathers and prayer plumes, such as one would see on Indian momo masks. The rest was a confused drapery of skins and mystic ceremonial objects.
In a hollow voice the Ganhi began to speak, addressing the Navaho in ghostly sentences that for them had all the tones of almighty authority. It paused between each utterance, while the crowd shuddered and all the Navaho raised their arms in prayer, following the lead of the medicine men on the ledge. After a time the Ganhi ceased, while fumes of smoke filled the cave and rendered it more and more indistinct.
The qcali finally plucked up courage enough to croak out a word or two in reply, and then the Ganhi receded gradually into the cave, finally disappearing in clouds of smoke which puffed out as the vagrant winds listed up above.
For a long time the crowd stood awe-struck, spell-bound. Then the qcali shouted out an order. A few responded, but the rest were hastening out of the ravine, flying from the Enchanted Mesa as quickly as they could get to their ponies. Big John and the boys waited until they saw a pole bridge being produced from somewhere and preparations being made to take down Neyani and his family, the qcali and his assistants addressing them with every mark of respect and tenderness.
“Now’s a good time to ooze out of this, boys,” whispered Big John. “If that was the Major, he’s sure a shark on Indian ceremonials!”
CHAPTER XII
THE LAST STAND OF THE BLACK PANTHER
IT was dark and the Navaho had all gone when Major Hinchman appeared again in camp.