File:The talking leaves - an Indian story (1882) (14596525839).jpg

Identifier: talkingleavesind00stod (find matches)
Title: The talking leaves : an Indian story
Year: 1882 (1880s)
Authors: Stoddard, William Osborn, 1835-1925
Subjects: Indians of North America Children Conduct of life Friendship Hunting Outdoor life Fathers and daughters Reading Apache Indians
Publisher: New York : Harper & Brothers
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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sign language as intelligently astwo well-trained deaf mutes among the whites. Perhaps one reason more for so much sign talking isthat there are so many tribes, each with a very rough tongueof its own, that is not easy for other tribes to pick up. Red Wolf was again beckoning to Ni-ha-be, and there wasan impatient look on his dark, self-willed face. It was timefor her to make haste, therefore, and Rita put the threemagazines under the light folds of her broad antelope-skincape and tripped away toward the bit of bushy grove justbeyond the corral. What is that? In the language of the very far West it is any spot orplace where horses are gathered and kept, outside of a stable. The great Apache nation does not own a single stable orbarn, although it does own multitudes of horses, ponies, mules,and even horned cattle. All these, therefore, have to becorralled, except when they are running loose amongtheir unfenced pastures. There are no fences in that partof the world any more than barns.
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The Talking Leaves. 49 Immediately on going into camp the long train of packmules and ponies had been relieved of their burdens, andthey and most of the saddle-horses had been sent off, underthe care of mounted herders, to pick their dinners for them-selves in the rich green grass of the valley. Chiefs and warriors, however, never walk if they can helpit, and so, as some one of them might wish to go here orthere at any moment, several dozens of the freshest animalswere kept on the spot between the camp and the grove,tethered by long hide lariats, and compelled to wait theirturn for something to eat. There was a warrior on guard at the corral, as a matterof course, but he hardly gave a glance to the pretty adopteddaughter of Many Bears as she tripped hurriedly past him. It was his business to look out for the horses and not forgiddy young squaws who might find talking leaves. Rita could not have told him, if he had asked her, why itwas that her prizes were making her heart beat so fast

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