Читать книгу Buddy and the Indian Chief, or, A Boy Among the Navajos - Howard R Garis - Страница 3

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When Buddy came running home from school a few days before the long summer vacation was about to begin, the small red-haired boy knew at once something had happened. One reason was he heard his father and mother talking earnestly in the library.

Another reason was he saw his father’s traveling bag, partly packed, out in the hall.

“Dad must be going on a trip,” said Buddy half to himself. “Golly! I wish he’d take me. I’m going to ask him!”

Putting his books on the seat of the hat rack, Buddy hurried toward the library. He entered it, flushed by his run home from school in time to hear his mother say:

“Are they real Indians, Clayton?”

“Oh, ho! Indians!” thought Buddy and his heart began to beat faster as he listened to his father’s answer of:

“Yes, my dear, of course they are real Indians. The most real Indians it is possible to have, at least since early Colonial days.”

“Then do you think it is safe for you to go?” asked Mrs. Martyne. Neither Buddy’s father nor mother had yet noticed his entrance into the library. Mr. Martyne was busy looking at some books and his wife had some clean shirts in her hand as if she was preparing to help her husband pack his traveling bag.

“Of course it’s safe,” answered Mr. Martyne. “You aren’t afraid I’ll get scalped, are you?”

“I don’t know,” answered Buddy’s mother a little doubtfully. “Somehow when I think of Indians I think of——”

“Now don’t worry!” her husband laughed. “There isn’t any danger or I wouldn’t think of taking Buddy on this trip.”

It was then Buddy could keep silent no longer. He had heard what he most wanted to hear and then and there he crowed like a rooster and, jumping up in the middle of the library, he clicked his heels together three times, a trick one of his uncles had taught him.

“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Martyne. “It’s Buddy!”

“So it is,” said Mr. Martyne looking at the red-haired boy with a smile. “Buddy in person.”

For the first time his mother and father seemed aware that Buddy was in the room and a moment later he burst out with:

“Indians! When are we going, Dad? Are you sure you’ll take me? Is it to a Wild West show like the one where I met Powder Pete?”

“Well, young man,” said Buddy’s father with pretended seriousness, “I’m afraid you came in upon us a bit suddenly and heard things you weren’t expected to hear. Now if you will just quiet down and——”

“Oh, Dad, how can I quiet down after what you said?” asked the boy. “Please tell me more about it! Is it just a Wild West show?”

Mr. and Mrs. Martyne looked at each other. Then they smiled. The serious look vanished from the face of Buddy’s mother and his father said:

“No, son, the Indians we have been talking about—your mother and I—aren’t the kind in Wild West shows. They are real Indians out on reservations in Arizona. I find I have to go out there this summer on some business matters and——”

“Are you going to take me?” cried Buddy.

Again Mr. and Mrs. Martyne exchanged glances.

“You may as well tell him, Clayton,” said Buddy’s mother. “We didn’t intend him to hear anything until after school has closed. And I haven’t fully made up my mind to let him go with you. But since he heard you say you planned it—well, you may as well tell him everything and then we can talk it over. If it was any other country but one where there are a lot of wild Indians——”

“Whoopee! The wilder the better!” Buddy almost shouted. “I’ve always wanted to go to real, wild Indian country.”

“Don’t count too much on it,” advised Mr. Martyne with a laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll find even the Navajos and Hopis more civilized than you care for. It is true they still have some of the dances and ceremonies they took part in during the days when they were really wild, but as for there being any danger——”

“I wouldn’t be afraid!” boasted Buddy. And then he had the thought to say politely: “Excuse me for interrupting.”

“You’re pardoned, Buddy,” responded his father. Then the red-haired boy went on:

“Please tell me more about it, Dad. How soon can we start? There are only two more days of school and I can skip them for I’ve passed and all the rest is just entertainments and exercises. Can’t we go now? I guess you’re going soon, anyhow, aren’t you? I saw your bag in the hall.”

“A regular Indian scout trick!” laughed Mr. Martyne. “Well, Buddy, as your mother says I might as well tell you all about it. First I’ll start off by saying I really am going out to the Arizona Indian country. I am going there to buy some Indian objects for our town museum and library. I shall probably be gone most of the summer, and, since it will probably be a sort of vacation trip, I planned to take you with me—if your mother consents.”

“Oh, Mother, please say yes!” cried Buddy, running to Mrs. Martyne and reaching up to put his arms around her neck and kiss her. “Please say yes!”

“Wait a little, my dear,” she answered. “At least I’m not going to say no until I hear a little more about it. As your father says, it may be a good vacation trip for you and if there is no danger——”

She paused uncertainly and Mr. Martyne said:

“There will be no danger. There may be a little adventure and some excitement, but I’ll take good care of Buddy.”

“I know you will. But it’s a long way from here.”

“Distance doesn’t mean as much as it used to,” said Mr. Martyne. “In an airplane I could get out to Arizona in a couple of days.”

“Clayton Martyne!” exclaimed his wife, “I’m not going to have you and Buddy travel in an airplane! My mind is made up on that.”

“Then we’ll go by train,” said Mr. Martyne. “I’d just as soon.”

“Then I can really go?” asked Buddy. It seemed as if his mother was consenting.

“Well,” said Mrs. Martyne slowly, “I suppose I’ll have to give in. But no airplane!”

“All right,” said Mr. Martyne.

“Hurray!” shouted the red-haired boy and again he jumped up and clicked his heels together in the air. “Now tell me all about it, Dad!” he begged. “Oh, golly! This is going to be great!”

“Calm down, Buddy,” advised his mother. “You’re all hot and excited. I’ll just take these shirts out to Lola to have her run over them with a hot iron and fresh them up before I pack them,” she went on. “Then you and your father can talk. Now sit down and don’t act so excited.”

It was hard for Buddy to do this but he finally managed to sit on a chair and look expectantly at his father who put away some books and papers at which he had been looking when Buddy came bursting into the library.

“There isn’t much to tell yet, Buddy,” said Mr. Martyne. “As I mentioned, I am going to Arizona to get some Indian relics for the library and museum here. Mr. Franklin, who died a few months ago, left in his will a certain sum to be spent for an Indian exhibition. It seems in his younger days Mr. Franklin lived out in Arizona and came in contact with the Navajo and Hopi tribes of Indians. He grew to like them and decided, in order that their ways, institutions and mode of living might be better known, to establish an exhibit for the Mountchester Museum.

“I am on the Board of Trustees having this in charge and I was selected to go out west and purchase the different things that will go in the permanent exhibition. So I’ll be ready to start in a few days and it occurred to me that you might like to go. I suppose you would.”

“Oh, would I!” cried Buddy. “I’d like to see anybody try to stop me now! Oh, Dad! This is swell!”

“Yes,” said Mr. Martyne, “I think we shall have some jolly adventures together.”

“Is mother going?” asked Buddy.

“Indeed I am not, thank you!” exclaimed Mrs. Martyne coming back into the library just then. “I wouldn’t go out among those Hopijos Indians for anything! Never!”

“You are getting your Indian tribes a little mixed, my dear,” chuckled Mr. Martyne. “Buddy and I would like to have you with us but if you won’t go——”

“Well, I won’t and that’s all there is to it!” laughed Buddy’s mother. “And now I must plan what Buddy is to take with him. How long will you be gone and what kind of clothes will Buddy need? As it is summer now I should think——”

What Mrs. Martyne thought she did not tell for at that moment a loud scream sounded in the hall and the voice of Lola Wagg, the maid, was heard exclaiming:

“Go away! Go away! Don’t you dare come in here! Go away! Oh, it’s an Indian—an Indian chief! Go away!”