LEFT alone, with the Navaho dogs and the Indian man-house so near at hand, Wongo hesitated for a moment before deciding to go up to the hole in the mysterious house, but this mighty appeal to his curiosity overpowered his fears, and he started toward the spot of light. [47]
 
Wongo put his eye to the hole
 
[48]His heart beating wildly with excitement, he reached the little hole in the wall of the hogan and cautiously put his eye to it. What a sight met his startled gaze! There were several Navaho men in the house, and two or three little men—Kaw had called them boys. The first thing that caught Wongo’s wondering attention was the fire. There it was, right in the center of the man-house. It was alive, and was eating sticks and bits of bark that popped and cracked as they died! And as it ate it seemed to leave a white dust that danced up into the light, when the men prodded the fire with a stick. Heat seemed to come from it, like the heat from the sun. Wongo had never seen anything like it before. On the floor around[49] the fire sat the Indians and the voice of one of the boy-men drew Wongo’s attention away from the fire. One old man was making something with straight sticks and the boy-man asked, “Why must the feathers be put on the end of the arrows, father?”
“It is the tail feathers of the bird that makes the bird fly straight, and it is the feathers of the arrow’s tail that makes it go straight when it leaves the bow string,” replied the old man.
“Why do you make long little grooves on the sides of the arrow, father?” asked the boy-man.
“When the arrow goes into the deer the grooves let the blood come out at the sides. If no grooves are there, the arrow fills the wound, and the deer may run far and get away before he is dead.”
Wongo drank in this information and put it into the back of his thoughts for future use. Then his eye wandered around the circle of men, some holding long sticks in their lips, from which came little blue clouds like the larger clouds from the fire. This was confusing, and he could not understand it. Then his gaze fell suddenly on a man unlike any he had ever seen before. He sat back on the farther side of the fire against the wall of the man-house. His skin was white, and the lower part of his face had long hair on it, like the hair[50] on the throat of the timber wolf in winter, only the man-hair was black.
Just back of the man with the white skin was a long, shining stick, standing against the wall. Suddenly the thought came to Wongo that the white-skinned man was the “squaw-man” and the shining stick of strange shape was the gun thing that could shoot to kill a bear. A little shiver of fear crept over him, when the silence was broken again by the boy-man, who asked, “Would the arrow from a strong bow kill a bear, father?”
“We do not send the arrow at the bear witch,” said the man. “It would not kill, but would anger the witch to great madness, and trouble—big trouble of much sickness—would come upon us all.”
Then came the strange voice of the squaw-man, and all of the others in the hogan listened closely as he spoke.
“Do my red brothers go with me to get the live bear when the sun is up to-morrow?” he asked. No one spoke for some time, and then an old man near the fire replied:
“We will go and make much noise with the drum and rattle, and will beat the ground with the sticks as you wish, but we will not help to catch the bear witch, nor send arrows at him. We do[51] not go if you are to kill the bear witch, and we go only near the bear cave; not close.”
“That is all that I ask,” said the squaw-man.
Suddenly there came a great noise from the other side of the man-house, followed by the loud barking of running dogs, and the snort of frightened horses. Running quickly toward the sheep corral, Wongo jumped over the low gate and made a grab in the darkness.
“What luck,” he thought, as he lifted an animal into his arms, and holding it tight around the neck he made off with it at top speed. But he had gone only a short distance when he discovered that there was something wrong with the sheep. It seemed too slick to hold easily and its legs and neck were longer than any of the sheep he had stolen before. Suddenly the animal began to squirm, and to kick and twist about in so vigorous a manner Wongo could scarcely hold it at all. It seemed to be all legs and feet.
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist,[52] jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
“You are a common, cactus-eating goat!” cried Wongo, addressing the animal, “and it’s too late to take you back, and I can’t kill you here, or turn you loose,” he added desperately.
“Ba-ah-ah!” bleated the goat feebly, but loud enough to frighten Wongo into making a sudden grab for its neck, for he had been holding it tightly about the hind quarters, thinking he gripped it around the throat. With a great effort he swung the animal up on his shoulder, with head well forward where it could do no damage, and had started on with a fresh spurt of speed, when he suddenly tripped over a vine and down went bear and goat in a tumbling heap.
Wongo had sufficient presence of mind to keep a tight hold upon his prisoner when he fell. The goat, having turned a complete somersault, lit squarely on his feet facing Wongo, who, having but three feet to use, had fallen awkwardly in a sitting position on his haunches, one fore-leg extended with the paw tightly holding his prisoner back of the horns. Thus, although the goat could not go backward, nothing prevented him from going forward and, acting on the instant the thought came to him, he gave a lunge, head downward.
[53]“Woof!” ejaculated Wongo, as the animal’s head landed against the pit of his stomach, and to keep himself from going over backward with the shock of the blow, he was forced to use all four feet, thus giving the goat the chance it wanted. Off it sped like a white streak through the sage, and in an instant Wongo was in pursuit.
 
Confused with fear, the goat headed straight for the mouth of the canyon up which lay the trail. Having secured a little start of the bear, the goat was running for his life and making good time. Realizing that they were going in the very direction he would have to carry his prisoner anyway,[54] Wongo kept just close enough to the goat to frighten it into greater speed, knowing that once in the canyon the goat would stick to the path where there was fair footing, rather than attempt to plunge into the rocks or thick bushes on either side. On into the canyon sped the two animals; the goat, as Wongo had guessed, keeping to the trail. The goat was becoming less frightened. Had he not butted the bear over? Had he not run for some time faster than his pursuer could run? He was suddenly filled with confidence, and felt that he had a chance—a good chance—to get away from his enemy. As they sped upward, Wongo began to realize that they were nearing old Grouch’s patch of forbidden ground, and he had just caught the outline of the big, vine-covered rock, over which he was to jump after leaving his sheep, when he heard a savage growl from just ahead, and he suddenly realized that his old enemy had met them on the trail.
Stopping instantly, Wongo began to walk backward as fast as he could to the big rock, and as he did so he heard a surprised “Woof!” from out of the darkness ahead; a sound of tumbling in the brush; then a sharp clatter of small hoofs that seemed to retreat over the rocks far to the left of the trail.
[55]Jumping quickly over the big rock, Wongo ran at top speed around the side of the mountain. He had run but a little way when his sensitive nose told him that Kaw’s friend, the polecat, had kept his promise.
On ran Wongo, never stopping until he had circled the mountain and reached the flat-topped rock near his cave. He had scarcely stretched himself out for a short rest when he heard the flapping wings of Kaw, who flew up, singing as he came:
“Two plotters, they plotted a plot,
And their plans were all laid to the dot!
Then they said, ‘let us meet,
In a chosen retreat,
And see if our scheme works or not.’”
“Well,” said Kaw, as he ended the last line of his rhyme with a chuckle, “my crow friends and I surely aroused that peaceful little Indian camp in great shape. We flew so low and kept up such an uproar, the dogs followed us for half a mile, and we gave the squaw-man’s horses such a scare it is going to take all of the men about the place to round them up if they want to make an early start in the morning.”
Wongo then told Kaw of his adventures since[56] the crow had left him near the hogan, not omitting a single detail of his experience with the goat, nor of the final meeting with old Grouch.
At the end of the little bear’s recital the crow seemed so delighted he could scarcely contain himself for mirth. Dancing around, first on one foot then on the other and keeping a peculiar kind of time by flapping one wing against his side, he sang in a high key:
“‘Oh, Mister Quack, you’re out of luck,’
Said the cunning little froggie to the spoon-bill duck,
‘Excuse my haste, for I must away,
Or there’ll be no ceremony on my wedding day.’
“Old Grouch will surely be out of luck to-morrow unless all signs fail,” he added, as he settled down into a more serious attitude. “Did you say that after you and the goat met old Grouch you heard the clatter of the goat’s hoofs as though he were running away?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” said Wongo. “When the goat met old Grouch there was a dull-sounding bump, and the old rascal gave a surprised grunt and seemed to thrash around a moment beside the trail. Then I heard the clatter of the goat’s hoofs on the rocks[57] at the other side, and he sounded as though he were going like the wind.”
“Well, well,” said Kaw, shaking again with mirth, “I never expected to hear anything like that, and I thought I was used to unexpected things, too. There is still work to be done before the night is over. It’s time you were warning the other bears on the mountain, and I must be off to find that goat and tell him how to get back to his friends in the corral below, before some night-prowling timber-wolf runs across him. He certainly has earned his life, and besides,” he added thoughtfully, “I may want to use him sometime and it’s just as well to do him a good turn as part pay for the service he unknowingly rendered us to-night. Have you many calls to make before your trip of warning is over?” he asked.
“A good many,” said Wongo. “There is old Mrs. Black, who has her cave about a mile above mine, the two Brown brothers who live over on the point, Mrs. Grizzly who lives with her two cubs over on the other side of the hill, and perhaps ten or twelve of our various friends who live across the valley, and I must not forget our friend ‘Long-ears,’ the crippled jack-rabbit, who lives in the brier thicket. The Indians might try an arrow on him.”
[58]“Needn’t waste your sympathy on him,” said Kaw. “He committed suicide last week.”
“Why!” exclaimed Wongo in surprise, “I can’t believe it. How did it happen? He was always such a good-humored rascal.”
 
“Well,” said Kaw, “he found a gray timber-wolf asleep in front of his den and, thinking it would be a good joke, he playfully kicked him in the ear!”
“Umph!” grunted Wongo sadly. “He was a droll fellow, but too thoughtless, I suppose.”
“Where will you advise our friends to go to-night?” asked Kaw.
[59]“There is only one good place where there will be food and plenty of water for all of us, and that is over the two ranges to the north.”
“Good place,” said Kaw. “Better than this, in fact. I know every inch of the big valley, and the stream there runs into a beautiful lake far over to the north, beyond the black hills. Let’s see, when the sun is straight overhead to-morrow, you will have reached the big aspen grove on the east side of the second mountain. I will meet you there and tell you all about the squaw-man’s big hunt for the live bear. I expect to watch the fun from the top of the tall pine that stands by the side of old Grouch’s cave, and if you were not so touchy about roosting, I might ask you to join me there,” he added with a grin. “But I will try and give you a full account of all that happens.”
And so the two friends separated, each to continue his night’s work.