Read Online Zia by Scott O’Dell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Scott O’Dell
Tags: Ages 8 and up
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belfries.
"The Mission in San Diego was made of wood," Stone Hands said. "But our Mission is made of mud bricks so it will not burn. Not much of it anyway. There is little to burn. But we can go away. We can leave the Mission and go back to our homes."
Stone Hands had spoken this way before but no one ever thought he was serious about it. But he was serious now, looking at each of us to see that we were listening.
"On Sunday night. This one that comes," he said, "there is a fiesta. After the fiesta everyone goes to their rooms. The girls to their rooms, the boys to theirs. We will not undress. We will pretend to sleep, but when the bell rings for ten o'clock, each one will get up and bring his blanket."
He looked around to make sure that everyone heard.
"The doors are locked," someone said.
"Do not worry. I will take care of the locked doors," Stone Hands said. "All of you will move quietly on bare feet. We will come together in the garden. Nobody will appear except the young. The old women and the old men will stay. And when the bell strikes we will meet. I have food hidden away to last for many days. We will take the food and our blankets and go to the river. There we will walk toward the north, in the water that leaves no prints. We will walk all night and reach a cave I know of and sleep. The soldiers will not hear that we are gone until morning. There will be no prints to which have gone."
We all stood, saying nothing, looking down at the Mission. Everyone thought that Stone Hands wished to make himself the chieftain of a tribe. And there were many who would follow him. But not all. A few hesitated. These he knew by name.
He spoke to them now, each one, and to all of us.
"They have come to our villages and taken us away by making us great promises," he said. "They have taken us to their Missions and made us work. If we do not feel like working they flog us. If we run away they send men to bring us back. Is this not true?"
Everyone said, "Yes, it is true," even those who from fear hesitated. "Not always, but sometimes."
"We leave our villages because of promises," said Stone Hands, "and the promises are seldom kept. If they work us from dawn until dark. If they punish us when we do something they think is wrong. When we can endure no longer and leave they send their vaqueros after us with chains and muskets." Stone Hands paused, waiting for his words to be heard deep and felt in the heart. "If this happens to us, then I ask you all, those especially who cannot make up their minds one way or the other. I ask you, what are we?"
He waited for an answer.
"Slaves," said my friend Anita.
"Slaves," others said.
"Slaves," everyone now said, even those who had not made up their minds before. It was not true that we were slaves. The fathers at the Mission wanted us to believe in their God and they made us work hard and were strict and often were impatient with us. Yet they loved us as if we were their children. Everyone sided with Stone Hands because they liked and feared him both and because many of them felt like slaves.
Stone Hands said, "Since we are slaves, what is left for us? What is the thing we can do?"
"Flee," one of the workers said and then everyone nodded his head and said, "Flee! Flee!"
He paused again and waited a long time. Then he said, speaking each word slowly, "If anyone here says a word, this I promise him." He drew a finger swiftly across his throat.
We started down the hill to the Mission as Stone Hands went on talking.
"San Diego, our brothers burned down long ago. And they burned San Juan Capistrano. This Mission of Santa Barbara was shaken down by earthquakes. It was burned by fire. The sweat of Indians has put it back together from the earth four times over. We have lost our lands to the Missions and the gringo. But our lands and forests and rivers we shall take back. Again they will be ours. And remember my warning, all of you, each of you alike. You know me, Stone Hands. You know
"The Mission in San Diego was made of wood," Stone Hands said. "But our Mission is made of mud bricks so it will not burn. Not much of it anyway. There is little to burn. But we can go away. We can leave the Mission and go back to our homes."
Stone Hands had spoken this way before but no one ever thought he was serious about it. But he was serious now, looking at each of us to see that we were listening.
"On Sunday night. This one that comes," he said, "there is a fiesta. After the fiesta everyone goes to their rooms. The girls to their rooms, the boys to theirs. We will not undress. We will pretend to sleep, but when the bell rings for ten o'clock, each one will get up and bring his blanket."
He looked around to make sure that everyone heard.
"The doors are locked," someone said.
"Do not worry. I will take care of the locked doors," Stone Hands said. "All of you will move quietly on bare feet. We will come together in the garden. Nobody will appear except the young. The old women and the old men will stay. And when the bell strikes we will meet. I have food hidden away to last for many days. We will take the food and our blankets and go to the river. There we will walk toward the north, in the water that leaves no prints. We will walk all night and reach a cave I know of and sleep. The soldiers will not hear that we are gone until morning. There will be no prints to which have gone."
We all stood, saying nothing, looking down at the Mission. Everyone thought that Stone Hands wished to make himself the chieftain of a tribe. And there were many who would follow him. But not all. A few hesitated. These he knew by name.
He spoke to them now, each one, and to all of us.
"They have come to our villages and taken us away by making us great promises," he said. "They have taken us to their Missions and made us work. If we do not feel like working they flog us. If we run away they send men to bring us back. Is this not true?"
Everyone said, "Yes, it is true," even those who from fear hesitated. "Not always, but sometimes."
"We leave our villages because of promises," said Stone Hands, "and the promises are seldom kept. If they work us from dawn until dark. If they punish us when we do something they think is wrong. When we can endure no longer and leave they send their vaqueros after us with chains and muskets." Stone Hands paused, waiting for his words to be heard deep and felt in the heart. "If this happens to us, then I ask you all, those especially who cannot make up their minds one way or the other. I ask you, what are we?"
He waited for an answer.
"Slaves," said my friend Anita.
"Slaves," others said.
"Slaves," everyone now said, even those who had not made up their minds before. It was not true that we were slaves. The fathers at the Mission wanted us to believe in their God and they made us work hard and were strict and often were impatient with us. Yet they loved us as if we were their children. Everyone sided with Stone Hands because they liked and feared him both and because many of them felt like slaves.
Stone Hands said, "Since we are slaves, what is left for us? What is the thing we can do?"
"Flee," one of the workers said and then everyone nodded his head and said, "Flee! Flee!"
He paused again and waited a long time. Then he said, speaking each word slowly, "If anyone here says a word, this I promise him." He drew a finger swiftly across his throat.
We started down the hill to the Mission as Stone Hands went on talking.
"San Diego, our brothers burned down long ago. And they burned San Juan Capistrano. This Mission of Santa Barbara was shaken down by earthquakes. It was burned by fire. The sweat of Indians has put it back together from the earth four times over. We have lost our lands to the Missions and the gringo. But our lands and forests and rivers we shall take back. Again they will be ours. And remember my warning, all of you, each of you alike. You know me, Stone Hands. You know
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