JR. KING’S BUSINESS
bering the strange houses in which the Pimas lived in olden times, of which only remnants now re gained. They had resembled Eskimo igloos, but in stead o f being constructed of blocks o f frozen snow, they were built of great logs for Patters and adobe for walls. The roofs were made of arrowood, thatched over with wheat straw. Running Deer’s grandfather, a wise, patient man, never tiring of a boy’s many questions, declared that neither rain nor snakes could penetrate those adobe walls. He said the igloos were cool in summer and warm in winter. Running Deer could see that his grand father loved “ the old ways.” Many of the Indians were farmers but Running Deer’s father was a cattleman. Very proud of their small, sleek herd grazing nearby, Running Deer dreamed of riding in a big rodeo some day. Already he was training Swift Arrow as a skillful cow pony and he himself was quite familiar with roping and branding. Running Deer liked the kind o f life he led: going to school, hunting and fishing, herding the cattle on the unfenced land. He had a boy’s appetite for the juicy mesquite beans, the nourish ing quail, venison and rabbit, the delicious wild berries and cactus fruit. Every year he joined the other boys and girls in the fun and excitement of gathering the mesquite beans. Today, however, Running Deer was not his merry self. He was thinking very hard. That was work for when you thought, you had to make deci sions and that was even harder. He was thinking not with his head but with his heart. He was going over in his mind all the things that had happened to him — and to the Pimas on the reservation — within the last few months. It had all begun with the arrival of the mission ary, Mr. Cameron. One day he rode in on a big bronco with a bag of books, a folding organ and a sleeping bag strapped to his saddle. It was not the first time missionaries had visited the reservation. Most of them had ridden about in their big cars, left some literature and were seen no more. But Mr. Cameron was different. From the first he made it clear he wanted nothing from the Indians. At once he made friends with the men by lending a hand in the fields and he did not mind doing a chore for the women who in return gave him a good hot meal. After a while, he told them why he was there: he wanted to build a brush arbor in a clearing where he could set up his organ, teach the children Gospel songs and tell them Bible stories. The fathers said they could see no harm in that. Their children loved music and this would keep them out o f mischief when there was no school. First, though, he was told he must ask Chief Grey Feather, who was elderly now and had to be visited in his big adobe house at the end of the reservation. Mr. Cameron gladly agreed to consult him. But there was a problem: the chief could not understand
A Story in Two Parts By Betty Bruechert Based upon facts related by Anna Eschief, Pima Indian, Biola ’AS
I T w a s A h o t , l a z y J u n e d a y on the desert. Far in the distance, the blue mountains were barely visible in the shimmering haze. Running Deer and his pinto, Swift Arrow, were resting in the shade of a giant shuaro cactus. Lovingly, Running Deer stroked the neck of the little brown and white pony as the animal munched the sparse, sun-scorched grass. They were inseparable, the slender, bronzed, twelve-year-old Indian boy and his spotted horse. Proud member o f the small Pima tribe, Running Deer was bright, lively, ambitious. Standing so still against the desert background, the Indian boy and his pony might have been taken for statues on that sultry summer day. Run ning Deer was gazing intently down the road which led across the reservation. Even so, he could not see the end of it, for it was thirty miles long, like an immense farm. Along the way brick and wooden houses could be seen, with colorful gar dens surrounding them. Running Deer was remem
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TH E KING'S BUSINESS
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