Come, now, a dance, a dance! Tavwots, dance for us!
(The cries increasing, Tavwots is pushed forward to dance, others cry for Pamaquash and Yavi, who join Tavwots, laughing, to dance the blanket dance, all the others singing and keeping time with swaying bodies. The girls hover about the dancers, and as at certain points in the dance the Young Men attempt to cast their blankets about the heads of the girls, they duck and squeal. Finally, amid much laughter, each dancer captures a girl, rubbing his cheek against hers, the Indian equivalent of a kiss. With great merriment the crowd moves off in the direction of the mesa, disclosing Padahoon and the Chisera, who have come up unobserved.)
Come this way, Chisera. The girls are out on the mesa, dancing with the bride, and the women are grinding at the metate for the marriage feast.
But where is Simwa?
With the bride, no doubt. Here is his wickiup, and here the marriage dower beside it.
All this?
Never so many gifts went to a wedding in Sagharawite. Every woman whose man came back safe from the war gave a basket or a blanket, and Simwa gave all of his share of the spoil of Castac.
And that, I doubt not, is bitter for you to see, Padahoon.
Why, as to that, Chisera, it is good to see spoil of our foes in the camp; but the fighting men of Castac were our blood brothers. See, here is the blanket where the newly married pair shall sit to receive the blessings of the fruitful women.
(Bitterly.) But not the blessing of the Chisera. Never before, in my time, has there been a bride of Sagharawite but sent to ask my blessing.
Aye, but Simwa does not believe in charms and spells. (The Chisera seems about to break out angrily, but restrains herself. Padahoon watches her narrowly as he speaks.) Look, Chisera! Is not the bride fair? Fit to set a man beside himself with desiring?
She is but a child. Her breasts are scarcely grown. No fit mate for a war leader.
(Watching her.) But a man so well furnished with wisdom need not look for it in a wife. Is it not so, Chisera?
Padahoon, why do you tell me this?
(With the appearance of candor.) As often as I came to your house to get medicine, you asked me for news of the campody, and seemed best pleased with news of Simwa, the war leader; and with reason, since he has become the most notable man of the Paiutes. Yet, when I told you he was to be married to-day to the Chief's daughter, you were slow to believe. Now tell me if I have lied, Chisera.
You have not lied, Padahoon, but Simwa, he has lied. How long have you known this?
Since the time of Taboose.
And why not told me?
How could I think the Chisera wished to know? It was a thing you might have heard from the women grinding meal or weaving baskets. But the Chisera does not often come to the village, except there is illness.
I have no time to gossip with the women. I have to go before the gods for them and their children.
And now that you are told, what will you do?
Is there so much to do?
Only to give him your blessing.
(Bitterly.) Did I not give him that at Castac?
(Begins to search about among Simwa's effects.)
What seek you, Chisera?
The arrow! the quiver! Surely Simwa does not dance at his wedding wearing his quiver?
No; but when he is not wearing it, no man knows where he hides it.
(Searching.) The quiver! I must find the quiver!
'Tis said he has a magic arrow in it of such power he would have it fall into no man's hands.
(Muttering.) Aye, the arrow; the black arrow.
Chisera, why does this marriage disturb you?
Padahoon, why should you think it disturbs me?
You have come.
Why should not one maid come to the marriage of another? There is scarce two summers' difference between me and the Chief's daughter.
Yes, but you come in your blanket. Such has not been your custom when you have come among us on errands of healing; then you dressed sumptuously, as befitted one bearing the word of the gods. Now you come like an angry woman who would hide what is in her heart.
(With dignity.) Cover your own heart, Padahoon, lest I ask what mischief breeds in it to bid you observe me so much. I have not forgot that you would have paid me a blanket to be made war leader in the room of Simwa.
(With ugly insinuation.) Ugh! huh! Perhaps I had been as fortunate as the Arrow-Maker, if, instead of giving it, I had offered to share it with you.
Kima! Padahoon, you do tempt me to try if I can curse.
(Conciliatory.) I have no wish to anger the friend of the gods, but I am a plain man wishing good to my campody, and it seems not good to me that Simwa has grown suddenly so great.
(Recovering herself.) What has that to do with the Chisera?
I have known this Simwa since he was first tied in a basket, and, though he has grown to be war leader, I think he is most like a pod of rattleweed that is swollen to twice its size at the end of the season, yet has no more in it than at the beginning. And I do not know how, without the help of magic medicine, he has come to be what he is with so little in him.
The Chief's daughter has trusted him.
She loves him. (During this scene bursts of Indian music and singing have been heard at intervals. It grows louder. Padahoon and Chisera look off.) They come this way, Chisera. You are right. When a man has married so fair a wife, there is not much left to be done for him.
(With bitter irony, as she moves over against Simwa's hut and puts up her blanket.) I am not so sure.
It is Chisera.
(With alarm.) Where is my daughter?
(Bright Water enters with the young girls, laughing and talking. Her hair is braided with golden poppies and falls over her shoulders. She sees the Chisera standing, tall and still, by Simwa's hut, her whole figure shrouded in a blanket, which is drawn up to cover all of her face but the eyes.)
Who is it comes to my wedding uninvited? How her eyes burn upon me!
Hush! She will hear you. It is the Chisera.
The Chisera? Never have I seen her like this. But she has come to bring me a blessing.
Do not speak to her, my daughter; she is not in the humor for it.
Shall I not be courteous to the first guest who has come to my husband's house? Chisera, I am pleased that you have come to bless my marriage.
(Out of her blanket.) Where is Simwa?
He comes soon. (Going to her.) Last night I thought of you, and how you alone, of all Sagharawite, had kept away from my happiness —
Let be, daughter. (Pulling her sleeve.) It is ill stirring a coiled snake. (To the Chisera, with intent to draw her off.) Come this way, Chisera, and I will show you the wedding presents.
(Lowering her blanket a little.) Show me the Arrow-Maker.
(The elder men have entered, among them Rain Wind.)
What is this?
It is the Chisera asking for Simwa.
Ah! ah! ah – ah!
(Exchanging glances of inquiry and amazement.)
Who is that behind her?
Padahoon!
Ugh! huh!
So? Why does she cover her face?
She makes medicine in her blanket.
(The Indians draw close in two groups, the women together and the men on the other side. They watch the Chisera uneasily. Bright Water stands a little apart, the bridesmaids moving timidly toward the elder women.)
(Putting down her blanket.) The Arrow-Maker of Sagharawite is slow to the bridal.
He comes. He comes.
(The young men enter, with Simwa in their midst, painted and befeathered as befits a handsome man on his wedding day. Observing the Chisera, he checks and falters in his walk.)
Chisera!
Is it you, Simwa, who wed with the Chief's daughter?
You are come, Chisera – (Wholly at a loss.) You are come —
I am come to your marriage, Simwa, though I am not invited.
But now that she is here, Simwa, you will ask her to bless us?
(Recovering himself with an effort.) Surely, surely. But the married women have not blessed us yet. (Taking the bride's hand and leading her to the blanket. They seat themselves.) Come, Tiawa, have you no pine nuts in your basket? (With an effort to carry it off jovially.) What! will you have my wife dig roots before her wedding year is out?
(The married women take up their baskets and begin the ceremony of sprinkling the bride with nuts and seeds in token of fruitfulness.)
(Warningly.) Simwa! Simwa!
(The women leave off, huddling together, looking fearfully at the Chisera.)
(Getting between her and Bright Water.) What harm to you, Chisera, if the Arrow-Maker weds where he loves?
(Looking steadily at Simwa.) Aye – where he loves – (Pleadingly.) Simwa! Simwa!
(She drops her blanket and turns away.)
(Lifting her basket to her shoulder again.) Let us go on with the marriage.
(To the company.) If the Chisera knows any reason why this marriage should not go on, should she not say it openly? A word half spoken breeds suspicion faster than flies at killing time.
What talk is this of reasons? Have I not the disposing of my daughter in marriage? Reason enough, if I wish it so.
That which is most reasonable to men, the gods see otherwise.
(A murmur begins in the camp, but Simwa takes it up instantly.)
He is thinking of the war with Castac. Truly, you were not eye to eye with the gods on that occasion, Padahoon.
Were I so sure it was of the gods, I had not stood out so against it.
Was not Simwa approved of the gods through the mouth of the Chisera?
So you think.
Is there another Arrow-Maker so skilled between Tehachappi and Tecuya? Are any shafts better fashioned to fly straight to the mark? Is there any hunter knows more surely where the herds feed, or strikes quicker the slot of a deer?
As you think.
Let be this talk of reasons. This is mere woman's mischief, to nod and wink and to make signs with the eyebrows. A woman would have you think reason enough for marrying if she liked or misliked it. Chisera, this is no matter for the gods, but a plain mating of man and maid.
(Flashing.) Since when have you talked with the gods, that you think to lesson me in their business?
Since you have been a father, to know reasons for the bestowal of daughters.
(Grunts of appreciation.)
(Letting her blanket slip to her breast.) Know, then, that if these are your reasons, Rain Wind, there is no more meat in them than in the husk of acorns. If good fortune hangs on all Simwa's movements, it is by reason of the medicine I make that binds him in the favor of the Friend.
(Leaning on his elbows, with the manner of being quite at ease.) You are very free with your blessing, Chisera, if it is so; for it is well known in the camp that Simwa, the Arrow-Maker, does not believe in charms, nor seek them.
(Grunting in assent.) Ugh! huh!
(Letting fall her blanket in a burst of indignation.) “Nor seek them!” – Ah! Simwa! Simwa!
(A short pause of embarrassment and consternation ensues. Then Padahoon, in a manner meant to seem impartial —)
The medicine of the Chisera is very powerful, but one must allow a little credit to the gods. Simwa was chosen war leader by the trial of the seven sticks. As the gods willed, they made the sticks to fall. Is it not so, Chisera?
(Sullenly, from her blanket.) I do not know. I did not look. (Letting fall her blanket and speaking proudly.) I had persuaded the Friend to give victory to the war leader. What should I care for the sticks? A day and a night I made medicine, and the sign was sure. I said “Simwa” and the gods confirmed it.
(The Indians remain silent, but draw a little away from Simwa.)
(Rising and turning toward her.) Chisera, why should you make medicine for Simwa?
Chief's daughter, do not ask.
Chief's daughter I am, and wife of the war leader. Why should you concern yourself with his affairs?
(After a pause, with great dignity.) Because he loved me.
Ah! Ah – ah! Ah!
(Laughing.) The Friend of the gods has eaten rattleweed. Does a man love a wild woman who goes muttering and waving her arms, when she should be weaving and grinding meal? Would he take a wander-thought to his bed, and have witless children? Sooner I had a snake in my hut to run and tattle to the gods of me.
(To Padahoon.) Now, if it is true that he owes his fortune to the gods, they have deserted him, else he would not speak so to a jealous woman.
(Looking long at the Chisera, haggard and unpainted, her blanket trailing, and then to the Chief's daughter, and back again, all the eyes of the campody following.) Is there any comeliness in a witch, that a man should desire her?
(Alarmed.) Simwa, Simwa! If you have no care for yourself, at least remember my daughter!
(Rising.) Have no care, mother. If I do not believe she can bless, neither do you believe that she can curse.
Mother, let be. If this be true that she speaks, I am already cursed.
(Going to his wife.) What have we to do with blessings or cursings? The Chisera is unsound in her mind. I have seen her dancing in the hills sometimes where I went to gather eagle's feathers for my arrows, and her madness has made a curious tale of it.
I would I might believe it.
(With returning complacency.) Do you find it so hard to have a husband whom other women admire?
Chief and tribesmen, if it be true that Simwa values charms so little, let him declare what it is he keeps sewed in his quiver so precious that he must hide it even on his wedding day.
(Murmurs. The Chisera, in alarm, endeavors to check Padahoon. Simwa turns upon him with a snarl.)
Kima! (Wildly.) You cannot prove that I had it of the Chisera!
(Suddenly darting out two fingers from his mouth, moving them rapidly in the manner of a snake's tongue, with a hissing sound.) Snake of two tongues! Now I know you for the man you are, braggart and liar!
Coyote whelp!
(Simwa grasps a war weapon, a stone tied in a crotched stick, from the heap of wedding gifts, and smites Padahoon to the earth, standing threateningly over him. The others stiffen into tense attitudes, drawing their blankets tighter, their eyes burning bright. Padahoon draws the knife that hangs in a sheath at his neck.)
(Putting Simwa back with a hand at his breast.) Peace! Though you are made my son by this day's work, you shall not usurp judgment. (To Padahoon, as Simwa moves slowly back, his weapon lowered.) What charge do you make?
(Rising on his elbow to spit blood.) Thou art a liar, if ever there was one in Sagharawite, and have nothing which is not owed to the Chisera.
Speak straight, Padahoon, or, by the Bear, I shall let him kill you where you lie.
Three nights after the return from Tecuya, I saw you at the Chisera's house – and again in the rains – and at the time of Taboose.
Is it so, Chisera?
It is so.
Did you go there for love or profit?
(Simwa lets slip his weapon from his hand to the ground.)
Simwa, if you were the son of my body, I should not know which to believe.
Believe him if you like. (Sullenly.) If a skunk walk in my trail and leave a stink there, shall I go out of my way to deny that it is mine? No doubt the woman is both mad and shameless.
(Murmurs of indignation.)
(Afraid, but furious.) Then if you are shameless, begone! Stay not to vex the marriage of a maiden. Go! Have to do with your gods, and leave my daughter.
Mother! Mother!
Shameless, am I, Seegooche? Then there is one of your blood shall know a greater shame. Great hunter does she think her man? Aye, but she shall come to dig roots for him when he fails of the hunt and be glad of the offal the other women give her for pity. For this I say to you, tribesmen of Sagharawite, that, though I cannot curse, yet I can take back my blessing.
All this is of no account, Chisera. No doubt you can contrive against the fame of Simwa and bespeak the gods to neglect him; I wait to hear what proof you have that he loved you.
Do not vex her, daughter, lest she turn the gods against you also.
No matter, mother. What Simwa bears, I can bear. What proof, Chisera?
What proof?
(She turns toward Simwa, faltering. He smiles contemptuously.)
That Simwa loved you.
(Slowly, her eyes on Simwa.) He came to my hut – in the night – Chief's daughter (boldly), even as he comes this night to yours.
(Impatiently.) But did he love you?
He made me so believe. (Looking about and noting the lack of conviction.) How else had he held me, since last the poppies bloomed, a lure to snare the favor of the gods? Does he say he was not blessed? Aye, twice blessed. (She takes from her bosom the amulet.) Was it not this you gave me to make medicine upon, to keep your lover safe in war? Twice blessed he was; but, as I made my blessing, so do I break it.
(Drops the amulet and grinds it underfoot.)
(Moving uneasily.) Ah! Ah!
And this is the proof that I speak truly. From this day, whoever brings me arrows shall have medicine upon them without price, and who would have news of the passing of the deer shall have it for the asking. Only Simwa shall have nothing but his own wit and the work of his hands, and by what befalls, you shall know the truth.
By this I know the truth! You never loved him, or you would not now betray him.
(Moving toward the trail.) And you, Bright Water, that think to lie in your husband's arms this night, know that I have lain there before you. And you shall not dare to laugh as a bride laughs, lest it be to him my voice in the dusk; and if he turns and sighs in his sleep, you shall wonder if he dreams of the Chisera. Long and anxiously you shall look in the trail when he is late from the hunt, and the men shall mock him that he could not keep the blessing he had got. (Bright Water turns despairingly and sinks on the ground, holding her mother by the knees and sobbing bitterly. All the Indians draw away from Simwa, leaving him standing, discomfited, in the middle of the camp. All look with awe and dread at the Chisera. She produces a small medicine stick from under her blanket and twirls it with menace. Going.) As for you, Arrow-Maker of Sagharawite, though I cannot curse, yet am I the friend of the gods, and they have regard to me. Look well to yourself, Simwa. Look well.