Fatigue had so overwhelmed him that his body seemed to weigh nothing. He could imagine it as a cloud, suspended just above ground, and each time he drifted into the warm haze of unconsciousness, he saw himself in effortless ascent, a phenomenon of the psyche so compelling that it kept him half-awake.
But the old man knew that his tired body was not wholly to blame for keeping him from sleep; rather, it was his mind that made rest impossible. It was crackling with an energy that he would have been hard-pressed to describe. Disconnected ideas and images and statements and even entire scenarios appeared out of nowhere to glide through the portals of his mind, and all Ten Bears could do was watch helplessly as the spectacle went on and on.
From time to time he would-for how long he did not into the twilight edges of sleep, but he was constantly waking with eyes to some new entertainment, the latest of which was a dizzying series of moments from his boyhood, when he perceived the soft tones of a girl's voice whispering, "Grandfather." In his mind he could see her soft, unwrinkled lips moving as the word was formed.
The whispering would stop for a few seconds before the word came again, tunneling into his head like a call from afar.
When in addition to hearing the whisper he imagined he might be smelling the speaker's breath, Ten Bears suspected he might actually be awake. His eyes fluttered and opened. A form was in front of him. It was opaque and, because he was lying on his side, he could not tell if it was that of a man or a woman, but it seemed as if someone must be in the lodge with him.
"Grandfather?"
It was the same voice, and now Ten Bears was sure it belonged to a girl. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he pushed himself up on an elbow, at the same time opening the bony hand that clutched his spectacles.
Fumbling with the arms of the frame, he slipped the miraculous things onto his nose and the luminous eyes of his granddaughter stared down at him.
"Grandfather?"
"Hunting For Something."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm having difficulty sleeping tonight."
"I won't disturb you, then. . "
"No, no," the old man said, waving off the notion with his free hand. "I'm fine. Stay awhile. Spread your robe and lie down and we will talk. I'm tired of trying to sleep."
Hunting For Something did as he suggested. She laid the robe down like a blanket, stretched out, and, in imitation of her grandfather across the fire, propped herself on an elbow They looked like bookends.
"You like the cool air?" he asked.
"Yes. . Are you going to that Washington?"
“Yes."
"Aren't you afraid they will kill you?"
"Noooo," Ten Bears laughed, "I'm to be a guest. I don't think even the whites kill their guests: I've never heard that they do that. Are you afraid for me, Granddaughter?"
"Maybe I should go with you," she said. "I could take care of you.” "I think I'll have plenty of help. Kicking Bird is coming. I think Touch The Clouds is, too. And some Cheyenne and Arapaho men.” "Will they make your pemmican?" she asked slyly.
"No," Ten Bears replied, laughing again, "but you can make up some for me to take."
Hunting For Something's affection for her grandfather was apart from what she felt for anything else. It was purer, and, with the simplicity of a lover, she nodded at him dreamily. She would do anything for her grandfather.
"When that's gone," Ten Bears continued jovially, "I guess I'll be at the mercy of white man food." Ten Bears raised his eyes in a comic, knowing way. "Whatever that is."
As they laughed together, Hunting For Something blurted out, "I would be afraid to eat white man food."
"I'm curious about it," Ten Bears said, smoothly shifting tone. "It's strange. . a man with as many winters as I — all those seasons behind me — I am still wondering. I'm very curious to see what I can see in Washington with these new eyes."
Unable to resist the constant temptation, Ten Bears let his eyes roam the lodge, and he marveled at the clarity of objects and the shadows that shrouded them. While he was gazing, Hunting For Something's hushed voice came to him once more.
"I don't want you to cross the stars yet."
The old man swung his head back. He reached over and patted hand.
“The Mystery has been calling me for a long time. I have to answer.” "I want you to stay with us."
Ten Bears smiled.
"We will all be together someday."
Hunting For Something did not look reassured.
"You love the Mystery?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I have always loved the Mystery. In between birth and death is life, and I have tried to stay close to the Mystery for all of mine. There are only two times when a person is truly with the Mystery: birth and death. . "
He stretched out his elbow and laid the side of his head against the ground.
"My mother said I came out easily. I think I will go out of this life the same way." He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial hush. "I'm looking forward to it!"
She couldn't help but smile at her grandfather's intrepid enthusiasm. Her worries always seemed to melt in the warmth he radiated.
"Is that grandchild of mine kicking yet?"
"A little," she said. "It kicks hard. It must be a boy."
"If it kicks hard, it's probably a girl."
She laughed, but Ten Bears was only half-joking,
"I mean it," he said, "you were the only girl your mother had, and she always said, 'Hunting For Something kicked the hardest.'"
"I did?"
"Yes."
Hunting For Something pulled her robe aside and ran a hand over her belly. She pushed at the bulge with her fingers, but there was no response.
"Asleep," she announced, looking at him again.
Ten Bears stared at her belly, then lifted his eyes up toward her face. She was yawning.
"Has Smiles A Lot decided which path to walk? Is he going to take the white man's holy road?"
"He's going to stay out."
Ten Bears nodded.
"I thought that's what he would do. Keep together. . you never know when you might need each other."
"We will, Grandfather," she said, yielding to another urge to yawn.
"Are you comfortable?" Ten Bears wondered.
"Yes, Grandfather," she answered, closing her eyes.
"Then sleep here tonight."
"Yes, Grandfather," she murmured.
Still, he could not sleep. He kept his glasses in place as he alternated between shadow and light. That way he could gaze whenever he wanted at the slumbering, fresh-faced flower of a granddaughter he loved so well.