Laughing Boy Read Free Page B

'
Nashto, shadani
—give me a smoke, brother-in-law.'
    It is rude to call a man brother-in-law, and like most Navajos, he enjoyed using the term, and teaching it, to innocent foreigners. Americans were good fun. This one gave him a black cigar, cutting the end for him and holding out a match. It nearly killed him at the first whiff, only medicine-hogahn experience in swallowing smoke enabled him to keep a calm face.
    'This is good!' He passed it over to his friend, who habitually inhaled deeply. 'It is like the magic tobacco Natinesthani gave the magician. We have nothing like this. Try it, elder brother.'
    He tried it, cautiously at first, the tiniest puff, then a good lung-full that clutched his agonized insides like talons. Desperately he fought back tears and a choking cough, while Laughing Boy struggled with almost equal difficulty to keep a straight face. By a heroic effort he let the smoke out slowly. Then, with a sigh that disguised relief as critical enjoyment,
    'Yes, little brother, that is very good tobacco.'
    The tourist was fingering Laughing Boy's belts, pulling them around. The Indian thought of pulling in turn at his necktie, but decided it would be poor business.
    'Ask him how much he wants for the one with the turquoise in it.'
    'How much do you want for the one with the blues, Grandfather?' the guide asked.
    'A horse, perhaps.' He puffed gingerly at the cigar which Jesting Squaw's Son passed back to him.
    'I'll offer you a nickel, perhaps.'
    Both laughed.
    'You say, how much.'
    The formal gambits were over. The guide cocked his head, pursed his lips, and looked critical and rather disgusted. 'I'll give you twenty-five dollars.'
    'No, no.'
    'How much, then?'
    He took it off. 'This is a good belt. These stones are good. The silver is heavy; Mexican silver. That is good work. Seventy-five dollars.'
    The guide grunted, and threw a pinch of sand on it in token of its worthlessness.
    'What does he say he wants?'
    'He says seventy-five.'
    'What's it worth?'
    'Up to about sixty, I guess. Them's good stones.'
    'Get it for less if you can.'
    Laughing Boy passed the cigar back. His friend, who knew a little English, whispered, 'He says sixty, I think, that he will pay.' He blew out on the cigar to use up as much as was possible.
    Laughing Boy asked the guide, 'Where do you come from?'
    'From Besh Senil. We are going to the Moqui.'
    '
Ei-yei!
That's far! Why do you want to see the Moqui?'
    'We want to see them dance with snakes.'
    'They are crazy to do that. Our dances are better.'
    'Perhaps. Well, this man says your belt is pretty good, and he will give you forty for it. No more.'
    'No, seventy, no less.' He buckled it on again.
    'Perhaps we can give you forty-five, but that is all.'
    Laughing Boy took the cigar again. It was a long time burning down. He wondered if he would die and be brought to life again, like the magician who smoked with Natinesthani.
    'What does the Indian want?' the tourist asked.
    'He still says seventy; it's too much.'
    'Get it if you can.'
    Laughing Boy whispered, 'What are they saying, Grandfather?'
    'I'm not sure. That one who speaks Navajo says "too much," I think. The pink one says "get it."'
    The guide spoke to them. 'This man says he will give you fifty because he likes your belt. He cannot give any more.'
    'No, I do not want to sell. He does not want to pay what it is worth, he is just talking about wanting it.' The cigar was done at last. He rose.
    'Oh, give him what he wants!'
    'How much, Grandfather? You say.'
    'Sixty-five, perhaps.'
    'He says sixty-five. Looks like he won't come down no lower.'
    'Til take it.'
    'He says he'll take it.'
    Laughing Boy handed over the belt. 'Grandfather, do you know this paper money?'
    Jesting Squaw's Son considered the bills. 'Yes, these with tracks here in the corners are fives. These with little sticks and the man with long hair and the ugly mouth on them are ones. This with the yellow back, I do not know it. I think it is no good.' He had been