OCR Text |
Show a log, he rubbed u n t i l scales of mud disappeared _ad his skin was l i k e copper. He took a comb made of sticks and broomed his h a i r . Playfully he l i f t e d his f a t h e r ' s red band from a peg and f i t t e d i t on h i s head, threw back his small shoulders, grinned impishly, "Do you see a goat? Am I a goat?" he a3ked. His mother eyed him up and down. "Too small for Navajo who i s twelve," she said, shaking her head. "But you bring the goats home a f t e r a storm and not one i 3 l o s t . A Navajo i s strong!" She s t i r r e d vigorously the pot of stew and f i l l e d a bowl brimming f u l l and handed i t to Kleeka with a broad smile, "You are not goat. You are Navajo!" To show he wa3 pleased with what she aaid, Kleeka ate loudly and tore the chucks of meat apart with h i s strong f i a t s. With a grunt of satisfaction he l a i d back on the goat skin rug in front of the f i r e . He f e l t the baby squirming and he took i t s foot and pulled i t close be3ide him. He rubbed his fingers over i t s cheek. "Zee zee aes," he hummed. His mother s a t down by the f i r e and listened as he sang the storm-wind song. So pleased was the look on his mother's face. Kleeka made clear the words, and the notes r o i l s d out |