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A PUEBLO LEGEND
93
THE PUEBLO ARMY CELEBRATES ITS VICTORY
of the warriors, as they announced the news of their victory, and looked in vain for the man she loved. Again she returned to her little Sun God. It seemed that the smile on the image's face mocked her. But she found again the heart to pray — to pray for success, to pray for the return of the Great Brother.
Long days and long nights followed the return of the warriors. The seasons came and went. The storms of sand and wind tore away the pigment from the face of the Sun God and whipped the feathers of the wings of life into bedraggled shreds. Winter came, and spring. Again the glad sounds of the Dance of the Green Boughs echoed thru Isleta. But they brought no joy to the heart of the Little Stranger. Somewhere out there, where the rising forms of the mountains piled up, one behind the other, finally to fade in the blue hazes of nothingness, wandered the Great Brother. Time was passing. The world was large, and the sky-stone still remained hidden.
Again the seasons whirled around — again — again. Slow-passing time began to number the years in tens, and still Taoa remained away. And still, also, before her little altar, breathing her prayers as she laid the sweet offerings of honey and corn and the bound sticks of yucca before her god, the Little Stranger kneeled and hoped for
the day when she would see the man she loved. The Little Stranger had passed from girlhood now. The lines of age and of suffering had begun to show in her face. Here and there, in the dark hair, a line of white had made its appearance. No more did she listen to the railings of old Miji. The shrew had found the setting sun. Down in the kiva, where chanting songs echoed before the altar, another Sun Priest made his worship in the place of one who had joined his fathers. Life was traveling on — life was traveling and losing in its winding trail the happiness of a man and woman who loved.
It all came to the Little Stranger that day as she knelt before her god. All the bitterness of it flooded thru her heart — all the loss, all the dross of life. Long had she prayed and been faithful. Long had she laid her offerings at the feet of this smiling, smirking little god who neither heard nor cared. Faith was false after all! There was no sky-stone, there were no gods! Angrily, the Little Stranger swept her hand forward and knocked from their position the feathers of the wings of life. All was
Then came the reaction, and she
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GREAT BROTHER IS STILL DETERMINED TO FIND THE SKY-STONE