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Title: When the tree flowered
        An authentic tale of the old Sioux world

Author: John G. Neihardt

Release date: July 21, 2023 [eBook #71247]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: The Macmillan Company

Credits: Tim Lindell, Krista Zaleski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN THE TREE FLOWERED ***






    WHEN THE
    TREE FLOWERED

    _An Authentic Tale
    of the Old Sioux World_

    _By_

    JOHN G. NEIHARDT

    [Illustration]


    THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

    _New York--1951_




_Copyright, 1951, by John G. Neihardt_


All rights reserved--no part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer
who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written
for inclusion in magazine or newspaper.

_First Printing_

Printed in the United States of America




_Contents_


    CHAPTER                    PAGE

    I “_I Used to Be Her Horse_”                         1

    II _When the Hundred Died_                           7

    III _The New Medicine Power_                        12

    IV _Wandering to Mourn_                             19

    V _Was the Great Voice Angry?_                      26

    VI _Chased by a Cow_                                33

    VII _Going on Vision Quest_                         42

    VIII “_Hold Fast; There Is More!_”                  49

    IX _The Old Bull’s Last Fight_                      55

    X _The Boys Who Had Sister Trouble_                 62

    XI _Helping a Brother-Friend_                       73

    XII _The Mysterious Mother-Power_                   84

    XIII _Four Against the Crows_                       91

    XIV “_Am I Greater Than the People?_”              104

    XV _The Sun Dance_                                 113

    XVI _Thanking the Food_                            130

    XVII _The Woman Four Times Widowed_                138

    XVIII _Falling Star, the Savior_                   152

    XIX _The Labors of the Holy One_                   168

    XX _The Battle in the Blizzard_                    182

    XXI _The Cleansing of a Kills-Home_                193

    XXII _Why the Island Hill Was Sacred_              202

    XXIII _Fighting the Gray Fox_                      209

    XXIV “_It Was a Great Victory_”                    216

    XXV _The Woman Who Died Twice_                     222

    XXVI _The Moon of Black Cherries_                  229

    XXVII _The Dark Hills of Water_                    233

    XXVIII _In the Village Called Pars_                238

    XXIX _The Girl’s Road_                             243




WHEN THE TREE FLOWERED




I

“_I Used to Be Her Horse_”


A one-room log cabin, with an indolently smoking chimney, squatted in
sullen destitution a hundred yards away. Before the door a ramshackle
wagon stood waiting for nothing with its load of snow. Down yonder
in the brushy draw an all-but-roofless shed stared listlessly upon
the dull February sky. With a man-denying look, the empty reservation
landscape round about lay hushed and bluing in the cold.

Raising the flap of the tepee, with its rusty stovepipe thrust through
its much-patched canvas, I stooped in a puff of pleasant warmth and
entered, placing my last armload of cottonwood chunks behind the
sheet-iron stove.

The old man threw back his blankets and sat up cross-legged upon the
cowhide robes that served for bed, his gray hair straggling thinly to
his shoulders about an aquiline face that had been handsome, surely,
before time carved it to the bone.

“_Palamo yelo, Kola_,” he said cheerily, as he fumbled in his long
leather tobacco sack; “Thank you, friend. Now we can be warm and smoke
together. You shall be my grandson, Wasichu[1] though you are; for it
is no man’s fault how he is born, and your heart is as much Lakota[2]
as mine.

“It will be good to remember, as you wish. The story that I have will
make me young again a little while, and you shall put it down there in
your tongue as I could say it if your tongue were mine. Too many snows
are heavy on my back, and when I walk, as you have seen, I am like an
old three-legged horse, all bone and hide and always looking for the
grass that used to be.”

Eagle Voice chuckled at his picture of himself.

“But it is only my body that stoops, remembering the mother ground,” he
continued, “for I can feel my spirit standing tall above the snows and
grasses that have been, and seeing much of good and evil days. There
are battles to be fought, and ponies to be stolen, and coups to be
counted. And there is happy hunting when the bison herds were wide as
day, and meat was plenty, and the earth stayed young. That was before
the rivers of Wasichus came in flood and made it old and shut us in
these barren little islands where we wait and wait for yesterday. And
there are visions to be seen again and voices to be heard from beyond
the world. And far away on the other side of the great water towards
the sunrise where I went when I was young, there are strange things
to be remembered, strange ways, strange faces. And yonder there is a
woman’s face, white and far away; and if it is good or bad I do not
know. I remember, and am a boy in the night when the moon makes all the
hills and valleys so that he wants to sing; but something afraid is
hiding in the shadows.”

The old man lit the pipe and his lean cheeks hollowed with a long draw
upon the stem. The brooding face went dim behind a slowly emitted cloud
of smoke, to emerge presently, shining with a merry light.

“_Washtay!_” he exclaimed, with a look of triumph; “_Lela washtay!_”

“What is very good, Grandfather?” I asked.

“It is what I see clearer than all the rest,” he answered, passing the
pipe to me; “and that is very strange, for many things were bigger long
ago.”

He thought awhile, a slow smile spreading until, with a look
grotesquely young, he fell to giggling like a mischievous boy. Then his
face went sober, and fixing serious eyes upon me he said with great
dignity and deliberation:

“It is just a little girl I see, my grandson. I used to be her horse.”

His only response to my laughter was a deeper crinkling about the
mock-serious eyes.

“Yes, I used to be her horse, and I will tell you how it was.”

It might have seemed that he had changed the subject abruptly when he
began again, talking eagerly; but I knew that I had only to wait for
the connection.

“In the old days, before the hoop of our people was broken, the
grandfathers and grandmothers did not just sit and think about the time
when things were better, even if they were old as I am. Maybe a man was
so bent and stiff that he could not hunt or fight any more and maybe he
could hardly chew his meat; but he had happy work to do, because there
were always little boys who had to learn how to be good hunters and
brave warriors; and he would teach them and tell them stories that were
teaching too. When I listened to my grandfather I used to think and
think about how tall men were when he was young. I remember the first
bow and arrows he made me and how he taught me to grasp the bow--like
this; and put the arrow on the string--like this; and pull with the
fingers--like this; and let the arrow fly--so--_whang!_ And I remember
the day when I came home with my first kill, and he laughed hard and
said he could see already that I was going to be a great hunter and a
great warrior. I wondered why he laughed, but I thought maybe it was
because he was so glad.

“It was just a little bird, but it was a bison bull anyway, and I was
more surprised than my grandfather was. For I had been shooting at
rabbits in the brush along the creek for a long time, and even when
I hit them, they would just wiggle their white rumps at me and hop
away. When my grandmother saw the bird, she did not laugh at all. She
just said, ‘_hm-m-m_,’ high up in her nose, like that; for she was
even more surprised than my grandfather. Then she told my mother we
would have to make a victory feast for this young man; and it was so,
because grandmother said it. She invited some old women and old men
to come over and eat; and when they came into our tepee and saw the
little bird lying there, they all said, ‘_hm-m-m_,’ high up in their
noses. And while we were eating they made me stand up and tell just how
I did it; and so I did, like a great warrior making a kill-talk after
a victory. Then the women all made the tremolo with their hands upon
their mouths--_so_--and the men cried, ‘_hi-yay-ay_.’

“And maybe there was an old grandmother who was getting fat and heavy
because she could not chop much wood any more or carry much water;
but she could peg down green hides and tan them with ashes, and sit
down and beat them until they were very soft. And her hands were never
still, for there were always moccasins to make and warm things of
deer-hide for the winter, all fine with beads and porcupine quills.

“Or maybe there was meat to be cut in long thin strips and hung on the
drying racks--such thin strips that it was just like unwinding a bundle
of meat, around and around. The women used to hold their strips up, to
see whose was longest; and the strips my grandmother cut were always a
little thinner and longer than the others.

“And maybe there was going to be a new baby in a tepee, and it would
need a good start in this life; for it is not easy to live on this
earth. So the parents would think of two women who were good and
wise and nobody could say anything bad about them. They would be
grandmothers, for who can be wise and young too? And the parents would
ask these old women to come over and help the baby. So they would come
when it was the right time. And when the baby was brought forth in this
world, the first grandmother would cut and tie the cord. Then she would
clean out the baby’s mouth with her forefinger, and when she did that
her good spirit would get into the baby so that it would be like her.

“Then the second grandmother would take some of the inside bark of the
chokecherry that had been soaked and pounded soft, and with this she
would wash the baby; and if it was a girl she would say to it: ‘I am a
good woman; I have worked hard; I have raised a family; and I always
tried to get along with everybody. You must always try to do the same
way.’ After that she would make it dry and rub it all over with grease
and red paint, because red is a sacred color. Then she would take some
soft powder that she had made by powdering dry buffalo chips and she
would put this in a piece of hide that had been tanned very soft and
fasten it around the baby’s rump, so that it could be kept dry and
clean.

“And always there were little girls who had to learn how to be good
women; and a grandmother would teach them, because she had been a woman
so long that she knew how better than her daughters did; and, anyway,
everything was done better when she was young.

“The first thing this grandmother gave to a little girl was a deer-hide
pouch with everything in it that a woman needs to make a home--a knife,
an awl, a bone needle, and some fine sinew for sewing. And she would
say, ‘You must always keep this with you whatever happens and never let
it go if you want to be a real woman and good for something. With this
you can always make a home.’ It was the way a grandfather gave a little
boy a bow and arrows, a knife, and a rawhide rope for taming horses.

“And when a little girl was still so little that she could not yet
do much with a knife or needle, the grandmother would teach her the
rolling game. There was a stick about as long as my finger with three
short twigs on one end so that it would stand up; and the little girl
had to roll a small round stone at this to knock it over. It was very
hard to do, and she had to keep on trying and trying, so that she
learned to be patient like a good woman.

“Then when the little girl was big enough, her grandmother taught her
how to make a tepee cover out of hide, and how to set it up with the
tepee poles fixed together at the top just so; and how to set the
smoke-flap at the peak to suit the wind and make a fire burn without
smoking the people out; and how to take the tepee down quickly and put
it on a pony-drag in a hurry, if there should be an attack and the
women had to run away with the children and the ponies while the men
were fighting.

“The little girls used to get together and play village, with their
tepees all set in a circle, just right, with the opening to the place
where you are always looking [the south]; and there were buckskin dolls
stuffed with grass for children; and the little boys played they were
chiefs and councilors and warriors. Of course, there had to be horses.”

The old man sat chuckling for a while before he continued.

“I think I was about eight years old that time, and I was getting big
fast, for my grandfather would let me have some sharp arrows if I would
be careful, and I had killed a rabbit already--maybe two. Many of our
people were camped not far from the soldiers’ town on Duck River [Fort
Laramie]. It was summer, and there was big trouble coming. The old
people were all talking about the bad Wasichus and how they were crazy
again because they had found gold in our country; and they wanted to
make a road through it and scare all the bison away, and then maybe we
would all starve. It was the time just before Red Cloud went to war,
and the people were camped there waiting to see what would happen.

“We little Oglala boys were playing killing-all-the-soldiers; but we
got tired doing that, because nobody wanted to be a soldier, and we had
to kill people who were not there at all. And one of the boys said,
‘Let us quit killing soldiers. They are all dead anyway, and they are
no good. The Miniconjou girls and boys have got a village over there.
Let us charge upon them and steal all their horses!’ So we all cried,
‘_hi-yay_,’ and began to get ready for the charge with our bows and
blunt arrows and old sunflower stalks for spears.

“And when we had crawled up on our bellies as close to the village as
we could get without being seen by the enemy, we leaped up and cried
‘_hoka-hey_’ all together and charged on the village.

“It was a big fight, a big noise. We could have won a victory,
because we all said that one Oglala boy was better than two or three
Miniconjous; but some of the bigger boys over there got after us, and
we had to run.

“And while I was running, I looked back over my shoulder to see how big
a boy was chasing me. And it was not a big boy or even a little boy.
It was a girl--a pretty little girl--but she looked terrible with her
hair all over her head in the wind she made with her running; and she
was yelling and swinging a rawhide rope while she ran. I was longer
legged than she was, but she caught me around the neck with her rope
anyway. Maybe all at once I wanted to be caught. And she said, ‘You bad
boy! You are just a _shonka-’kan_ [horse], and you are going to pull my
tepee.’

“So I let her lead me back to her village; and all the Miniconjou boys
poked their fingers at me and yelled and wanted to charge me and coup
me; but she picked up a stick and yelled back at them, ‘You leave my
horse alone or I will hit you.’ And, of course, if I was a horse I
wasn’t a warrior any more.

“So I got down on my hands and knees and she hitched the drag-poles
on me and packed her tepee on them. And when I snorted and pranced,
she petted me on the rump and sang to me, so that I was as tame as the
other little boys who were being horses too and helping to move camp
away from the enemy country.”

For a while, Eagle Voice seemed to have forgotten me, gazing over my
head with a faraway illuminated look. Then he spoke slowly in a low
voice as though talking to himself:

“Tashina Wanblee [Her Eagle Robe]. She was a pretty little girl. I
liked to play over there; and she said I was the best horse she ever
had.”

Then, becoming aware of me again, he continued, chuckling: “But one day
I got tired of playing horse; so I stood up on my hind legs and I said:
‘When I get just a little bigger I am going to marry you, and you are
going to be my woman.’ And she stuck her tongue out at me and said:
‘You are only a _shonka-’kan_. Go and eat grass!’”

The old man’s laughter trailed off into silence and the boy look went
away.




II

_When the Hundred Died_


“--And what became of the little girl, Grandfather?” I asked at length.
“Did you marry her when you got a little bigger?”

For some time the old man had seemed unconscious of me as he sat there
studying the ground, blowing softly now and then upon an eagle-bone
whistle suspended from his neck by a rawhide thong. He fixed a
squinting, quizzical gaze upon me and said: “That is a story, Grandson,
and so is this whistle. I can hear it crying across many snows and
grasses. Why are Wasichus always in a hurry? It is not good.”

Then he lapsed into meditation as before, blowing softly now and then
upon the wing-bone, polished with the handling of many years.

“_Sheetsha!_” he said at last in an explosive whisper.

“What is bad, Grandfather?” I asked.

“I was thinking of all that is gone,” he answered, the meditative mood
still strong upon him. “When I was a boy I heard the old people tell
about a great _wichasha wakon_ [holy man] who did wonderful things; and
his name was Wooden Cup. He had a vision of the Great Mysterious One,
and that is how he got this power. He could make fire with his fingers,
just by touching the wood; and he could see far off into the days that
were going to be when babies that were not yet born would be walking
with their canes. He saw it and he said it. A strange people would come
from the sunrise, and there would be more of them than the bison. Then
the bison would turn to white bones on the prairie. The mother earth
would be bound with bands of iron. The sacred hoop of our people would
be broken by the evil power of the strangers, and in that time we would
live in little square gray houses, and in those houses we would starve.
He said it, and we have seen it. I will not live in them, for the Great
Mysterious One meant all things to be round--the sky and the prairie,
the sun and the moon, the bodies of men and animals, trees and the
nests of birds, and the hoop of the people. The days and the seasons
come back in a circle, and so do the generations. The young grow old,
and from the old the young begin and grow. It is the sacred way.

“My daughter in the little gray house yonder is good, but her heart
is half Wasichu. She feeds me of the little that she has, and her
man brings me wood. They say it is warmer in there; but I was born a
Lakota, and I will die in a tepee. It would be well if my young bones
had been scattered on the prairie to show where a warrior fell and to
make a story, for it is not good to grow old.”

For a while the bone whistle called plaintively to him as from a great
distance, and he listened, staring at the ground.

“I think I did not believe what Wooden Cup said,” he continued; “for I
was young and the world was new. There was strangeness everywhere so
that maybe something wonderful was going to happen. I remember, before
I had sharp arrows for my bow, the way I would be in a valley all
alone, and there would be no sound, and all at once the hills would be
wrinkled grandfathers looking down at me and saying something good that
I could almost hear.

“When we were camped near the soldiers’ town on Duck River that time,
I heard the old people talking about the iron road the Wasichus were
making all along Shell River [Platte]. And there was a long high dust
of Wasichu wagons full of people always going and going to the sunset.
It was part of what Wooden Cup saw. Little boys talked about it, and
they said afterwhile all the bad Wasichus in the world would be yonder
where the sun goes down; or if there were any left when we got big, we
would just kill them all, and then everything would be the way it was
when our grandfathers were boys.

“I remember there was a big meeting at the soldiers’ town [Fort
Laramie] the day before we broke camp and went north to fight. It was
the day more soldiers came to steal the road up Powder River if our
people said, ‘no.’ I can see Red Cloud talking to the people and the
Wasichu chiefs who came from the Great Father in Washington. They came
to ask for the road through our hunting country; but the soldiers came
to take it. When I remember, Red Cloud is standing on a high place
made of wood, and he is taller than a man. I cannot hear his words,
but he is very angry at the Wasichu chiefs. The men cry, ‘_how_,’ and
‘_hoka-hey_,’ and the women make the tremolo. We are going to fight,
and I am scared; but I am glad too.

“So our people broke camp and we traveled fast with Red Cloud until we
came to the Powder River country. There many others came to us. Much of
what I remember about that time is like something I have dreamed, but
some of it is clear; and I have heard much that is like remembering.
But I can see my father going away with a band of warriors; and I can
see them riding on a hill into the sky, until the sky is empty and the
hill looks afraid. I can see warriors coming back, and my father is
among them. They are driving many mules that they had taken from the
soldiers, and some big Wasichu horses. I can see the warriors riding
about the circle of the village with Wasichu scalps on their coup
sticks. I can see my father making a kill-talk, and I can hear the
drums beat between his tellings of brave deeds, while the people cry
out to praise him. And while I listen, far away now, I can see Wasichu
wagons burning yet and the people in them dying on the road that was
not theirs.

“The big sun dance that summer made the hearts of the people strong to
fight and die; and my heart was strong too. When I got a little bigger
I would be a great warrior like my father. The little boys played
killing Wasichus harder than ever; and we had victory dances and made
kill-talks about the brave deeds we were going to do.

“Then it is winter. The snow is deep and heaped along the creek. The
wind howls in the night, and the smoke whirls round inside the tepee.
Maybe it is afraid to go out there. I crawl deep under the buffalo
robe, for there are angry spirits crying in the dark.

“Then there are nights when the wind is dead and something big is
crawling close outside without making any noise. If I peek out
through the tepee flap, the stars are big and sharp, and everything
is listening. Trees pop in the cold. It is the Moon of Popping Trees
[December].

“That was the time when the hundred soldiers died. Lodge Trail Ridge is
steep and narrow where it goes down to Peno Creek. It is near to where
the soldiers built their town of logs, and that is where they died. I
heard it told so often that when I think about it I must tell myself it
was my father who was there and I was just a little boy at home with my
mother.

“We had our village where Peno Creek runs into the Tongue, and Big
Road was the leader of our band. The day was just coming when our
warriors rode away to fight the soldiers and many others rode with
them--Cheyennes, Arapahoes. They rode up Peno Creek; and when the sun
was halfway up the sky, they stopped where the Wasichu road came down
the steep, narrow ridge to the ford.

“It was a good place to fight; so they sent some warriors up the road
to coax the soldiers out of their town; and while those were yonder, we
hid in the gullies and the brush all along the sides of the ridge. No,
I was just a little boy at home, but so our warriors did.

“And when they had waited and waited, there were shots off yonder and
the sound of horsebacks riding fast. It is our warriors coming back.
I can see them there at the top of the hill, and they have stopped to
shoot at the soldiers. Then they turn and gallop down the ridge.

“The road is empty. It is still. We hear iron hoofs yonder. Now the
soldiers come out of the sky up there. They stop and look. Now they are
riding two together down the ridge, walking their big horses. There
is a long blue line of them. Their breaths are white; their horses’
breaths are white. They are looking here and looking there, and they
are seeing nothing. They are listening and listening. They are hearing
their saddles whine. They are hearing iron hoofs on the frozen road.
Maybe a horse shakes its head, and they hear the bridle bit.

“It is still. There is no sound in the gullies and the brush. We are
holding our ponies’ noses so that they cannot cry out to the big
Wasichu horses.

“The first soldiers are at the bottom of the ridge.”

Eagle Voice paused. Leaning forward tensely, with a hand at his brow,
he gazed beyond the tepee wall, listening open-mouthed and breathless.

“What do you see, Grandfather?” I urged.

He threw both hands aloft and in a high excited voice, cried:

“Yonder! He is standing up! He is waving a spear! It is the Cheyenne,
Little Horse! _Hoka-hey! Hoka-hey!_ It is a good day to die! It is a
good day to kill and die! Poof!” He clapped his hands like gunshots.
“The brush and the gullies are alive! There is noise everywhere--cries
everywhere. We are swarming up along the sides of the ridge. The arrows
are a cloud. They are grasshoppers clouding the sun. The soldiers’
horses are feathered. They are screaming in the evening that the arrows
make. They are crowding back up the hill in the smoke of the guns.
Saddles are empty; feathered soldiers are falling. They are fighting
hard and falling, full of arrows, and the kicking horses upon them are
sprouting feathers.

“They are all dead at the ford.... Halfway up the ridge they are
dead.... They are huddled together fighting at the top with the dead
around them--and they are dying. A great cry goes up and they are
covered with warriors swarming in.

“It is over.”

The old man strove to light his pipe, his bony hands trembling as with
palsy. I steadied the bowl and held a lighted match to it. “Thank you,
Grandson,” he said, in a voice gone thin and quavering on a sudden.
For some time he sat studying the ground through the slowly emitted
smoke. Then, handing the pipe to me, he continued. His voice had lost
its former tone of harsh immediacy and seemed weary with its burden of
dead days remembered.

“There was a dog--a soldier-chief’s dog. He was tall and thin and
long-legged, and he was crying and running towards the soldiers’ town.
Somebody shouted: ‘Let him go and tell the other dogs back there!’
But many bow-thongs twanged, and he went down rolling in a cloud of
feathers.

“A storm was coming on. The sun was covered, and the wind came very
strong and very cold.

“I remember when the warriors came back to the village. The night was
cold and dark and the wind was howling. There were many voices shouting
louder than the wind out there, and the sound of many hoofs. When I
’woke, I thought the soldiers had come to kill us all when our warriors
were away, and I was afraid. But my mother said: ‘It is our people,
and they have killed many enemies. Do you not hear them singing?’ She
stirred the fire and fed it, so that it would be bright and warm for my
father. Then she went out into the dark full of shouting and singing
and the wind; and I listened and was afraid again, for I could hear
women’s high voices mourning.

“But my father was not dead. There was one at his head and one at his
feet when they brought him in and laid him on a robe beside the fire.
His face looked queer when he smiled at me, and it was not the war
paint. He was almost somebody else. His hands and feet were frozen and
there was an arrow deep in his hip--a Cheyenne arrow. When they cut it
out, he grunted but he did not cry. He shivered and shivered by the hot
fire until a _wichasha wakon_ came and made sacred medicine. Then it
was morning and my mother was still sitting there beside my father, and
he was sleeping.

“There was mourning in many of the lodges--high, sharp voices of the
women crying for those who died in the battle and the wounded who died
coming home. _Oosni! Lela oosni!_ It was cold, very cold.”

For some time the old man sat with his eyes closed and his chin on his
chest. At length he said, as though muttering to himself:

“They all died, a hundred soldiers died in the country that was ours.
But the forked-tongued ones who sent them did not die. I think they are
living yet.”




III

_The New Medicine Power_


“We have lost Tashina somewhere, Grandfather,” I said.

The remark, dropped into a long-sustained silence, fell like a pebble
upon empty air. The old man’s eyes remained closed and the sharply
cut features expressed nothing but age. At length his face came alive
with a slowly spreading smile, and he looked at me with gentle,
grandfatherly eyes.

“The pretty little girl is not lost,” he said. “There is a long road,
and she is yonder. But when we get there she will not be playing with
her tepee, and I shall never be her horse again.

“That time when the hundred died, the Miniconjous were camped up the
creek from us, and our mothers would not let us leave our village to
play. ‘If you do not stay at home, and if you are not good,’ they would
tell us, ‘the bad Wasichus will get you.’ So I did not see her then;
and when the big trouble was over for a little while, her band was far
away.

“I think the soldiers who were left in the town they built on Piney
Creek were cold and hungry all that winter. If they wanted wood, they
had to fight to get it. Our warriors burned their hay, and if they
wanted brush to feed the mules and horses, they had to fight and die.
If they wanted water from the frozen creek, they had to give some blood
for it.

“More soldiers came with oxen pulling their wagons. Then the snow was
deeper and deeper on the road, and there were no more wagons. Always
there were hungry wolves about the soldiers’ town. Our younger men were
the wolves.

“Before the snow melted, my father was not sick any more and he could
ride a horse and fight. But his hip was not good, and I can see him
walking on one side with his hand on the other leg.

“The grass came back. It was summer, and the hearts of our people were
strong because they knew the Wasichus could not steal the road to where
the yellow metal was--the stuff that always makes them crazy. There was
a big sun dance that made our people new again. Then it was the Moon
When Cherries Blacken [August], and there was another big fight. We
call it the Attacking of the Wagons. It was bad. I saw it from a hill,
and I was only nine years old; but after that I think I was never all a
boy any more. I saw, and when I sit and think, I see it all again; but
I have heard much too, and part of what I see I must have heard.

“There were many camps along the valley of the Tongue, for many more of
our own people had come to us, and many more of our friends, Cheyennes,
Arapahoes. Everybody was talking about rubbing out the soldiers’ towns,
the one on the Piney and the one on the Big Horn too; then the buffalo
would not go away, and we could be happy again.

“Our band and many others moved up Peno Creek and camped not far from
where some Wasichus and soldiers had a camp on the Little Piney. They
were sawing trees to make the soldiers’ town stronger, and getting wood
for winter too. We were going to attack this camp so that the soldiers
would come out of their town. Then we would rub them out, as the
hundred were rubbed out, and after that we would burn their town.

“It was in the cool dark before daybreak when our warriors began riding
away from our village, and my father rode with them. I remember how big
and bright the Morning Star was--big and bright and still, just waiting
up there for something that it knew would happen. It was going to be
a hot day. There was no wind, no cloud. I can hear men singing low as
they ride away, and dogs barking. It is still again, and the star is
waiting. It makes me a little afraid the way it looks and waits and is
so still; but I am glad too and I want to sing.

“Then the star is gone and the sun is big and hot.

“Many of the women began going to a ridge where they could see what
would happen, and where they would be close enough to take care of the
horses for their men. Many of the older men went with them. Little
children stayed with their grandmothers, but I was good with horses
already, so I went along with my mother and grandfather. We were
waiting on the north side of the ridge where the Wasichus could not
see us, and there was a crowd of warriors waiting there too and in the
gulches on both sides of us. They were naked and painted for battle,
and they were waiting for our warriors over there on the other side
of the Wasichu camp to start the attack. That is where my father was.
Some of the warriors were lying on the top of the ridge looking over;
and some of us little boys sneaked along in the grass on our bellies
to see what they were looking at. Nobody noticed us because everybody
was excited. I crawled up beside a big man lying on his belly with his
chin on his arms so that he could see through the grass. He turned his
head and looked hard at me, and he was a Cheyenne. I thought he was
angry and was going to make me go back; but he just grinned at me and
said: ‘_How_, cousin! Where’s your gun?’ I showed him the bow and sharp
arrows my grandfather made for me, and he said: ‘_Hm-m-m! Washtay!_’
Then he went on looking through the grass. I felt big and brave, for it
was just like being a warrior already.

“The Big Piney was there below us; then there was a prairie, and beyond
that we could see the trees along the Little Piney where the Wasichu
camp was; and beyond that were mountains. Down there in the middle
of the prairie there was a little ring made of wagon boxes where the
Wasichus kept their mules at night, so that our warriors could not
drive them off. There were two tents beside the ring, and we could
see two or three soldiers walking around. There were some thin smokes
rising straight up off yonder where the camp was in the trees. That was
all there was to see. The prairie and the hills around and the trees
over there and the mountains yonder looked asleep in the bright sun.

“Then there were cries away off yonder and the sound of singing. Some
of our warriors over there were galloping in single file down a hill
towards the Little Piney where the Wasichu camp was, and I tried hard
to see if my father was one of them, but they were too far away. Gun
smoke puffed from the brush and it was a cloud before the boom came.
Some Wasichus began running out of the trees towards the ring of wagon
boxes in the middle of the prairie. They would stop to shoot, and run
again. There were not many and they looked very small. The big Cheyenne
jumped up and all the others did too, shouting to each other and
running back to their horses; and I ran with them.

“The people were all mixed up, and I could not see my mother and
grandfather, but I was not afraid. I felt big inside of me and all over
me, with horses crowding and squealing, and men mounting and shouting
to each other. Then they were swarming over the hill, all singing
together, and I sang too as loud as I could sing. Everybody crowded up
the hill, and I crawled through the people’s legs to see.

“It is still down there now. Some of our warriors are coming up out
of the Little Piney. Our men have stopped down there by the Big Piney
below us. I wonder what they are waiting for. Away off yonder some of
our people are chasing mules. In the little ring of wagon boxes a few
Wasichus are standing and looking around. On the hill over towards the
sun there are many of our people waiting too. They say that is where
Red Cloud was.

“Looking glasses are flashing over by the Little Piney. They are
singing again below us. Some of the warriors break away from the
crowd and gallop out on the prairie. Over by the Little Piney others
are galloping. They circle around the ring of boxes, hanging on the
sides of their horses, getting closer and shooting arrows from under
the horses’ necks. One is very brave and he is closer than the others.
There is a puff of smoke from the ring, and his horse turns into a dust
cloud before the boom comes.

“Then the singing and the shouting and the sound of horses’ hoofs are
like a big wind coming up all at once and thunder in the wind. They are
coming from over by the sun; they are coming from the Little Piney; our
men are swarming up out of the creek valley below us. There is dust,
dust, and thunder in it and singing over it like a high wind blowing.
The horses and men are floating in it. It is closing in over the
prairie, but the ring of boxes looks empty and is still.

“No! It is not empty and still. It puffs smoke all around and goes out
in a cloud and a roar. The cloud gets higher and does not go away. The
roaring does not stop. It is like a great blanket ripping. There is
smoke whirling all around it, and horses’ heads and men’s heads and war
bonnets are flying in it.

“They are trying to ride over the boxes. The horses will not go.

“Now they are all coming out of the smoke and circling away from it
towards the creek valley below us and the Little Piney yonder. Many of
them are riding double.

“All at once it is still down there again. The smoke spreads and the
sun shines in. Many horses are down and some are kicking and trying
to get up, and some are dragging themselves along. When one of them
screams, it is thin and far away, but it fills the big empty place
because it is so still out there.

“Everything is holding its breath and looking.

“Now some warriors are going back with their horses on the run, and you
can hear their death-songs. They are riding two and two and hanging low
on their horses’ necks. They are going back for their dead and wounded
brothers out there. A great high sound goes up from the women on the
hills. They are making the tremolo and singing, for those are very
brave men.

“There is shooting from the ring of boxes. Some horses go down and some
are dragging their riders, but others go on at a run. Two and two the
riders lean and lift the wounded ones, where arms are held up among the
dead horses; two and two they lean and lift the dead, and gallop away.
They are very brave, and the voices of the women are one great voice on
the hills.

“Looking glasses are flashing over there. The warriors are singing
again, and they are coming back. They are coming from the Little Piney
and from over by the sun. They are galloping up out of the valley below
us, whipping each other’s horses and riding fast. _Hoka-hey! Hoka-hey!_
This time they will go over and the Wasichus will be rubbed out.

“The ring of boxes is a cloud of smoke with thunder ripping in it. It
is the same as before. Dust and smoke and horses whirling in it, and a
great noise floating high above it like a kind of cloud.

“They are closer than before. They are going over now and it will be
finished.

“No! They cannot go over. They cannot make the horses go, and they are
coming out of the smoke, circling back towards the creeks. Many, many
are riding double.

“It is still again out there, and the smoke begins to get thin. The
women on the hill over by the sun have seen, and you can hear them
mourning. It is like a little wind high up in pine trees. Now our
own women have seen, and they are crying and mourning. I am crying
too--because I want to kill Wasichus and I cannot.

“There are many more horses down now, scattered around the ring of
boxes. Some of our men are lying at the top of the creek bank below us,
shooting with guns and bows at the Wasichus. Fire arrows are falling in
the ring, and the mule dung there begins to burn and smoke.

“There is not much shooting from the boxes when the brave ones ride
back to save the wounded that are left out there and to pick up the
dead. Maybe the Wasichus are getting tired; maybe they are blinded by
the mule dung smoking, I do not know. The women are not making the
tremolo now. The hills are sending forth a great voice, but it is a
voice of sorrow for their men and boys down there.

“We waited. What could we do if the horses would not go over? The
ring was little, the Wasichus were few, we were many; but we could
not go over. Our people had never seen anything like it before. The
Wasichus did not shoot and then wait to load their guns. They kept on
shooting--_br-r-r-r_--just like tearing a big blanket all around the
ring. It was some new medicine power they had, and it made their few
like many. Afterwards we learned about the new guns that were loaded
from behind, and that is why they could shoot so fast. It was the first
time they had such guns, and we could not understand.

“The sun was high and hot, and we were waiting. The prairie was asleep.
The dung smoke rising from the ring of boxes looked sleepy too, and
that was all that moved down there. The dead horses scattered around
looked lazy, all stretched out and resting in the hot sun.

“Afterwhile we could see some horsebacks galloping both ways from the
hill over towards where the sun comes up. Maybe Red Cloud was telling
the warriors what to do. Then, as far as we could see, everything was
waiting and sleeping under the high sun.”

For some time Eagle Voice waited too, his eyes closed, his chin on his
chest. I put a chunk of cottonwood in the sheet-iron stove, and still
he sat motionless. It seemed that he had lost interest in his story, or
had fallen asleep.

“And then what happened?” I asked at length.

“I was thinking about my father,” he said, looking through me and far
away. “I was thinking how young he was then. If he could come back now,
he would be like my grandson.” Then he fell to brooding again with his
chin on his chest.

“And did the horses go over at last?” I urged.

He came slowly out of his daydream, as though reluctant to continue.

“It was the new medicine power,” he said, “and they were afraid; but
our warriors were very brave. They had gone away from the creek valley
below us, and only a few were lying along the top of the creek bank,
waiting for something.

“Then there was a great wind of singing all at once over to the right
towards where the sun goes down. They were coming out of a draw there,
all afoot and packed together like a wedge pointed at the ring of
boxes; and it was a death-song they were singing all together! I have
seen a mountain meadow full of flowers high up in the Pa Sapa [the
Black Hills], and their war bonnets were like that meadow walking in a
wind, and the wind was a death-song. It was long ago and I am old, but
I see it and hear it yet. The high sun stared; the hills listened, the
ring of boxes slept in the drowsy dung smoke.

“They did not hurry; but they came and came, swaying together in
the wind of singing that they made--a loud wind dying, a low wind
rising--loud and low, loud and low.

“Some horsebacks charged from over by the Little Piney, and a great cry
went up from the women on the hills. And then--the ring of boxes was a
whirling cloud again with that ripping thunder in it.

“They were coming faster now and we could hear their singing high above
the thunder. We could see the point go dull and sharpen again, go dull
and sharpen, until it was hidden in the whirling smoke. Then there was
nothing to hear but the voices of the women like one great voice.

“Now our warriors would go over, and it would be finished. They had
given themselves to death, and what could stop them? They would go over
now, and it would be finished at last.”

The old man sat tense and breathless for a moment, peering narrow-eyed
through and beyond the tent wall. Then the look of battle left his
face and his eyes returned to mine. “It was the new medicine power,”
he said wearily, “and it was stronger than ours. When they came out of
the smoke, fleeing back towards the draw, they were like that blooming
meadow in a hailstorm. Many, many were carrying their comrades on their
backs, the wounded and the dead.”




IV

_Wandering to Mourn_


“We all went away from the hill back to our camp on the Peno,” the old
man continued, “and I heard them say the soldiers were coming from
their town. But they did not follow us. Maybe if they had followed we
could have rubbed them out like the hundred on the ridge, for the anger
of our people was as strong as their sorrow, and the village was full
of mourning.

“When they carried my father into our lodge and laid him on a buffalo
robe, his face was a stranger’s and it made me afraid. His war paint
was all smeared with the sweat and dust of the battle. His eyes were
empty and his mouth was still open for the song he was singing to death
when it took him, and the blood was black on his chest.

“My grandmother and grandfather came to mourn with my mother and me;
and two good old women came also. It was the way they would come to
help a baby get started right to live in this world, and now they came
to help him go away to the world of spirit. They washed him all clean
and rubbed his body with sacred red paint. Then they unbraided his hair
and combed it, and when it was all clean and shiny, they braided it
again very carefully and tied an eagle feather in it for spirit power.
And when this was done, they painted his face, with a young moon on
his forehead, blue for the west where it would lead him. There all the
days of men have gone, and the black road of trouble ends. The grass
is green forever there and the sky is always blue and men and animals
are happy together. There nothing is afraid and no one is old. Then
they dressed him in a fine buckskin dress that my grandmother had made
for him; tanned very soft, it was, and beautiful with beadwork and
porcupine quills. And when I looked at him I was not afraid any more;
but I cried hard when they wrapped him in a buffalo robe and tied it
tight about him with thongs until he was only a bundle, for I would
never see his face again in this world, and the land of spirit was very
far away.

“It made me cry harder to hear my mother and grandmother mourning. I
can hear my mother saying like a song: ‘He was so good to us and he
always brought us plenty of meat and always gave to the old people too.
And now we are all alone.’ And I can hear my grandmother singing a low
sleepy song to him now and then, as though he were a baby, and I can
hear her saying: ‘I fed you at these breasts when I was young and you
were little. Now my breasts are dry and you have gone away, my son,
and I want to go too.’ I can see my grandfather with tears shining on
his cheeks in the firelight, and I can hear him singing a low song for
courage over and over, so that his son would still be brave.

“Afterwhile I cried myself to sleep; and it was morning.

“Then some people came and my grandfather told them he wanted to give
everything away. So the criers went about the village calling out to
all the people:

“‘Gray Bear’s son is going on a long journey and will not come back.
His mother will not see him again in this world, and his woman is left
alone. Let the needy come to Gray Bear, for now he has no son and he
wants to give away the little he has left.’

“So people came to our lodge, mourning with us; and when they went
away, we had nothing but sorrow. Only one horse we kept, my father’s
buffalo-runner, and that was for him to ride on his long journey.

“Then when the day was going to the spirit land, some friends came
leading a pony with a drag. When they had placed my father on the poles
we started away towards the hills. Behind the drag was my grandfather
leading the buffalo-runner; then my grandmother, then my mother, and I
followed her; and behind us were relatives and those who had the gifts
that made us poor. And as we walked we wept.

“I remember how a big flock of crows saw us coming up a little valley,
and rose with many voices of mourning and fled from us, still crying
far off; and how the hills looked down at us, all listening and sorry.

“Then we came up out of the valley where the shadows were growing, and
in the low sunlight on a hilltop was a new scaffold that our friends
had made that day. The four standing poles were stripped of bark, and
the story of my father’s deeds was painted on them, to tell how brave
he was.

“They unhitched the pony and leaned the drag against the scaffold. Then
two men climbed up and pulled the bundle to the top and tied it down
with thongs against the winds. And when this was done, they led the
buffalo-runner under the scaffold, with his face towards the setting
sun; and just before they shot him, he lifted up his head and sent
forth a great, shrill neigh, as though he were calling to my father
away off yonder.

“The people all went away in the twilight, and the night up there was
big and still and starry; so big and still that it did not seem to know
about my father and our weeping and moaning there by the scaffold. Only
the coyotes heard us; and when they raised their high sharp song of
sorrow and ceased, the night was bigger and stiller than before, and
nothing cared.

“I remember my grandfather standing still and dim and tall against
the stars, facing the end of earthly days with his hands held high.
Sometimes I could hear him praying aloud to Wakon Tonka, then for a
long while he would just stand there holding up his hands. When I
heard him asking for ‘the strength to understand and the eyes to see,’
I forgot to cry with wondering how strong I’d have to be. Maybe the
buffalo-runner could understand because he was so strong; maybe he
had the eyes to see; and maybe that was why he called so loud towards
where the sun goes down. Maybe a buffalo bull, a very big one, could
understand everything. Then I got to wondering what it would be like if
I were strong as a big buffalo bull and had the eyes to see into the
land of spirit. How blue would the sky be and how green the grass? If
there were never any clouds, how could it rain and keep the grass from
getting yellow? What was my father doing now, and had he caught his
buffalo-runner yet?

“Then all at once I wasn’t there on the hill any more, and I could see.

“It was a wide land, wider than many looks could reach across, and yet
I saw it all together; and what was far away was near too, because
of the clear light that lived everywhere. Many smokes rose straight
like slender trees from many hoops of people living in green valleys
by bright streams. And while I looked and looked, there was a kind of
singing everywhere, although everything was still. Then all at once
a great happy neighing filled the world, and there was a horseback
coming on a green, green hill that lived high up in the blue, blue sky;
and I saw it was the buffalo-runner that came prancing and nickering,
and on his back was my father smiling down at me, and his face was
all shining. Then he leaned to hold a hand for my foot, and I mounted
behind him, light as a feather, and the buffalo horse leaped into a run
that was like floating, and when he neighed it was laughter. Buffalo
beyond counting raised their noses from the glowing grass and lowed
softly as we passed, and the elk were glad to see us and the deer and
antelope danced with joy.

“Then when we had come to the high green hilltop living in the happy
blue, the horse stood floating, and I heard my father saying: ‘You
must go back to your mother now and take care of her and tell her not
to cry any more. Always be good to old people and bring them tender
meat that they can chew. And never be afraid of anything.’ And when I
put my arms around his waist, trying to hold on a little longer, there
was nothing in my arms, and the hill went dark; and I awoke, lying
beside the scaffold in the cold starlight.

“My grandfather lay sound asleep there where he had been praying; and
my mother and grandmother were sleeping too, worn out with weeping.
There was a low streak of day far off, and the big morning star was
looking down at me, very kind with something that it knew, for what it
knew was good.

“I was glad the old ones were resting, and I did not feel alone or
afraid, because my father was just a little sleep away. And while I sat
there looking at the star, I thought of many great deeds that I would
do, for I would be as brave as my father and as good to all the old
people. I was almost a chief already in my thinking before the streak
of day had widened and the star died. Then all the hills around stood
up to stare upon the scaffold with sad looks, and I began to cry again.

“Some relatives came with the sun to take us back to the village, and
there was a sweat bath ready for my grandfather and me. And while we
were being cleansed and rubbed with sacred sage, some women were taking
care of my mother and grandmother, washing the tears from their faces
and combing and braiding their hair. Then they fed us, and we ate.

“And when we had eaten, there were two good old men and two good old
women who came to teach us, the men for the men and the women for the
women. And they taught us, being wise, for they had lived much and
wanted nothing any more. It was a good time to become better people,
they said, for now we had nothing left but the spirit. We should stay
there four days after the village moved away, and those four days we
should lament and pray. But there were others who had lost everything,
and they were mourning too. We should remember to be kind to them and
to try to help them in their sorrow, and that would make our spirits
stronger. Then after four days, we could leave that place and wander
alone, the four of us; and while we wandered we should mourn less
and less, but keep on praying. And always we should be up to see the
morning star, for that would give us wisdom.

“So the village moved away from that place of death, and only those who
mourned were left; and we were all kind to each other, sharing much
sorrow and a little meat.

“And when the fifth day came, we caught one of the old horses that
had been left behind, a lame old grandfather horse who was always
looking at the ground. And we made a drag for him and on it we put a
smoke-blackened piece of an old tepee that was left behind because it
was no good any more. Then we began wandering alone out into the hills
towards where the sun comes up, because there were no soldiers over
there.

“We had no gun, but I had my bow with the sharp arrows. It was my
second bow and it was still a little too strong for me. My grandfather
had said it would make me grow faster so; but that was why I had never
killed anything bigger than a rabbit. I could not pull it far enough to
kill.

“My grandfather felt bad when we began to wander, and he got sicker
until he could hardly walk. So we camped by a water hole and made a
shelter with the old piece of a tepee, so that he could rest and get
well. Of course, my mother and grandfather could not talk to each
other, because he was her man’s father, but my mother was good to him
anyway. She would hunt turnips and berries, and when she had cooked
these, she would put them where he could get them. If they wanted to
say something to each other, they would tell my grandmother and she
would say it. The little dried meat we had was gone, and we got very
hungry eating wild turnips and buffalo berries.

“We did not forget to pray, but it seemed Wakon Tonka did not hear us.
I roamed far from our camp looking for a rabbit that I could kill; but
I could not find one sitting; and when I would came back with nothing,
my mother and grandmother would be crying, because they were thinking
how it was before my father went away.

“Then one day when I was far from camp looking for meat, I came to a
water hole with deer tracks all around it; and all at once my heart
grew strong, for there was a clump of brush just a little way from the
hole, and I knew what I would do. I did not say anything about this at
home, and I think I hardly slept at all that night.

“Something ’woke me when it was still dark. The morning star was just
beginning to look over the world, and I asked it to help me. The
others were still asleep, and I started for the water hole where the
deer tracks were. There was a long valley, and afterwhile there was a
gulch to the right. Up that gulch and over a ridge there was another
valley. To the left a long way up that valley was the hole with the
deer tracks, over at the bottom of a ridge to the right, and close by
was the brush. I was running fast before I knew it; but I made myself
go slower because I could not shoot straight out of breath. It was
hard to keep from running, but I came to the place when there was just
a little streak of day far off. The star looked happy, waiting for
something good to happen.

“It was very still, because the wind was waiting for the sun; but
when I wet my finger in my mouth and held it up, I could feel the air
breathing a little towards the water hole; and that was good. Then I
went into the brush, standing so that I could see the hole, and began
to pray hard, just whispering so that only Wakon Tonka could hear me,
and I said: ‘Grandfather, send me a deer and make me strong to pull
this bow and guide my arrow when I shoot. You see that we are poor, for
we have given everything to the needy. My mother is crying, and the old
people are crying, and we are all hungry. I have been a little boy long
enough, and you must make me strong. You can do anything.’

“When I had said this over and over, I got to thinking of my dream
there by the scaffold, and how he told me to take care of my mother and
be good to old people. While I thought about this, I could feel myself
growing stronger and stronger. And when it was just getting daylight,
all at once there was a deer with a fawn coming down to the water hole.

“I held my breath and waited until they put their noses in the water.
The smaller one had its side towards me, and it was the one I wanted,
because maybe I could drag it home, and also the meat would be very
tender for my sick grandfather.

“Maybe it was the dream that made me strong. I took a big breath and
pulled quick and hard. Maybe Wakon Tonka pulled a little too. The
string came back almost to my shoulder. _Whang!_

“I ran out of the brush and danced and yelled and yelled, until the
hills across the valley yelled back, cheering me for what I had done.
The arrow went deep just behind the shoulder. I had a deer! I had a
deer!

“Then I quit yelling, because the fawn began to look so big I wondered
how I was going to get it all the way home. I had my knife yet, because
I was so proud of it that I kept it hidden when we were giving to the
needy. I could cut off a hindquarter and carry that; but I wanted to
show the whole deer all at once. So I began dragging it down the valley
by the heels. But it was getting bigger and bigger, and when the sun
looked over at me, I was all out of breath and had to sit down on it
and pant. Then when I had my breath back, I began dragging again. But
the sun was getting hotter and the deer was getting bigger. Pretty soon
it would be as big as a buffalo, and I could never get it all over the
ridge into the next valley.

“I looked around with a forked mind, wondering what to do, and there
were some stunted trees standing low down on the side of the ridge I
had to cross. I would cut the deer up and put the pieces in a tree, all
but one hindquarter, where my mother and I could find them. So that is
what I did.

“The sun was getting high when I sneaked up to the camp through some
brush because I wanted to surprise my people. And when my mother and
grandmother saw me there, panting and all bloody with the meat on my
shoulder, they just stared awhile with their mouths open. Then my
grandmother began jumping up and down like a little girl, crying: ‘O
see what our grandson has brought us! O see what our big grandson has
brought us!’ Then my grandfather sat up; and when he saw, he clapped
his hands, crying, ‘_hiyay! hiyay!_’ And my mother laughed with joy. It
was the first time since my father went away.

“So my mother sliced the meat and roasted it over a low fire, and we
feasted. But before we ate, my grandfather raised his hands towards
where the sun goes down, and made an offering, like this: ‘Grandfather,
Great Mysterious One, behold me! You have sent our boy a deer and made
us happy. Remembering all living things that are in need, this I offer
to you that my people may live and the children grow up with plenty.’
Then each of us cut off a little piece of meat and tossed it over the
shoulder. It was the first bite to the Spirit that gave. I did not make
mine very big, for I could feel teeth inside of me, I was so hungry.
While we ate I had to tell how I did it, and I told everything but the
dream; for if I told that, maybe I would lose my new medicine power.

“When my mother and I brought the rest of the meat home, we feasted
again; and when we were full, we sang. Then my grandfather blew a big
breath and said: ‘I think this is going to make me well again.’ And so
it was.

“I did not sleep for a long while that night, thinking about what I had
done and all I was going to do. Sometimes I could hear my mother crying
a little so as not to waken anybody, and my grandmother moaning in her
sleep. It made me feel stronger than ever to hear this.

“It is a long way back to where we have been, and I am weary. You will
come again tomorrow.”




V

_Was the Great Voice Angry?_


It was apparent from a distance that Eagle Voice was up and waiting. A
thin stem of smoke from a well-established fire stood tall and straight
above the tepee, blooming flatly aloft in the glittering, knife-edged
air of the clear morning.

As I stooped through the flap, the sudden friendly warmth seemed to
radiate from the old man’s happy face. “_How_, my grandson,” he said
merrily. “The Grandfather has sent us a good day, and I am glad to see
you.”

The pipe was ready and we smoked awhile in silence.

“That was very tender meat we had yesterday,” he said at length, with a
mock-serious crinkling about his eyes. “I think it was the best meat I
ever ate. It sent me a good dream last night, and I think I am getting
younger. If only I had enough of it, maybe I could turn into a boy!

“Yes, it made my grandfather well again, and after that we did not lack
meat, for he was a better hunter than I was, even with my new medicine
power! In those days I thought he was almost as old as the hills, but I
can see now that he would have to be my younger son if he came back.

“So we wandered while the young moon came and grew and died, praying
much and mourning less and less; and always we were up to see the
morning star. Who sees the morning star shall see more, for he shall be
wise. The people were still good in those days before the sacred hoop
was broken; but the time of wandering alone with the spirit, mourning
and praying, made them better. It was like dying with the dear one and
coming back all new again and stronger to live. Now, when somebody
dies, we don’t go anywhere. We just sit where we are and feel bad, and
we don’t get along with each other any more, for we have forgotten how
to learn.

“Afterwhile it was getting to be the time to make winter meat, and we
wanted to be ready for the big buffalo hunt; so we went back to our
village in the valley of the Tongue.

“Everybody was happy to see us again. The people sang welcoming songs
when we entered the hoop and circled the village from left to right, as
young men ride after a victory. My grandfather walked first, leading
the horse with the drag, and behind the drag was grandmother, then my
mother, and I was last. The old grandfather horse was very tired, but
he lifted his head and nickered to the singers, for he was happy too.

“When my mother and grandmother had set up the old smoke-blackened
piece of a tepee for a shelter, many people came to us with food, and
we feasted together. And while we feasted, there was a big giving of
gifts until we were not poor at all. There was a tepee of buffalo hide
made double against the coldest winter and the hottest summer, and the
deeds of my father were painted on it. Our new horses were staked all
around us, whinnying with joy, and none of them was old. We all had new
buckskin dresses; my grandfather had a good gun with plenty of powder
and lead; and there was nothing lacking in the tepee that women need to
make a home. But the best gift of all was the horse I got for myself.
He was not too young, not too old either, and I called him Whirlwind
because he could run so fast. It was Looks Twice who gave the gift with
a speech that made me proud, for he was my father’s brother-friend,
and he carried my father dead out of the battle. Brother-friends do
not have the same mother and father, but they are closer than common
brothers, because they are just like one man, and if one of them is in
trouble, the other must help, even if he knows he will die. Maybe that
horse had some spirit power from my father, for sometimes when I was
riding alone, all at once I would be back in the dream that came to me
by the scaffold, and Whirlwind would be the buffalo-runner floating.”

The animated expression suddenly left the old man’s face, and for some
time he sat looking at the ground, blowing softly on his eagle-bone
whistle. A chuckle signaled his return from the remoteness of the inner
world.

“I was thinking,” he said with the crinkled look, “about stealing my
grandfather’s pipe that time; and this is how it was. I knew I had to
be a great warrior and a great hunter so that everyone would praise me,
and I had a good start already with the fawn. I thought and thought
about it. Maybe in the big hunt we were going to have I could sneak out
among the hunters when everybody was excited, and nobody would notice;
and maybe there would be a lame cow and I could kill her. Or it would
be a calf anyway, maybe one that had lost its mother in the dust. I was
not very sure about the cow; but the more I thought, the more I knew
I had to have that calf; and it came to me that I’d better get Wakon
Tonka to help me. I would dedicate a pipe to the Great Mysterious One
and make a sacred vow the way I had heard them tell real warriors did.
Then maybe I would get that calf. I was already feeding enough old
people for ten calves when it came to me that I had no pipe.

“That was when I made a mistake. I said to myself: ‘It will be all
right to take grandfather’s pipe, because I am doing this for _very_
old people who have hardly any teeth at all; and anyway he has two
pipes now.’ I did not ask for the pipe, because I knew he would not let
me have it. So I just took it when nobody was looking, and rode far out
to where there was a tall, pointed hill, standing all alone above the
little hills that sat around it.

“When I tied Whirlwind to some brush and climbed to the top, I saw
that some black clouds were coming up over towards where the sun goes
down, and it was that way I had to look when I made my offering. I did
not know just how to do it, but maybe it would be all right anyway.
So I held the pipe up and cried out in a loud voice: ‘_Tonka schla_,
Wakon Tonka! You see me here and you know I must get a calf for the old
people, because they can hardly chew. I give you this pipe, and if you
send me a calf, I will dance the sun dance, just as soon as I get big
enough.’

“When I said this, all at once there was a big thunder off
there--_boom-m-m how-ow-ow oom-m-m ow-ow!_

“I dropped the pipe and ran as fast as I could down the hill. Some of
me almost got there before I did, because I stumbled and rolled part of
the way. Then I rode home as fast as Whirlwind could go, because the
big voice sounded angry, and I was frightened.

“When I got home I did not say anything to anybody. And afterwhile
grandmother said: ‘I wonder what is wrong with our boy. He looks
queer.’ And my mother said: ‘He does look queer. Maybe he ate too
much.’ Then my grandfather looked hard at me and said: ‘Maybe he has
been smoking my pipe, for I see it is not here.’ And when he kept on
looking hard at me for a while, I had to tell him; but I did not tell
everything. I just said I took it because I had to make a vow so that
we would get plenty of meat in the hunt.

“I thought he was getting ready to be angry, he looked so hard at me.
Then he said, ‘_hm-m-m_,’ high up in his nose, and his eyes looked
as though he might be going to laugh; but he didn’t. My mother and
grandmother didn’t say anything. They just tried to look sad down their
noses.”

After chuckling awhile over the memory, the old man continued: “If I
had been a Wasichu boy, I think they would have whipped me; but Lakotas
never hurt a child. They were good in those days before the sacred hoop
was broken. It was the sacred way they lived in the hoop that made them
good and taught the children; and I will tell you how that was.

“There were seven _teoshpaiay_ [bands], seven council fires, and one of
them was my people, the Oglala. They were all Lakota and had the same
tongue, but they did not all say things in the same way, and when we
got together, sometimes we boys would mock each other, because our way
of speaking was the best. Each _teoshpaiay_ was a hoop by itself, and
could go anywhere it pleased, for it had its own tepee _okige_, the
highest tepee where its chief lived, and its own tepee _iyokihe_, the
next highest tepee, where its councilors made the laws for the people.

“When all the seven _teoshpaiay_, or most of them, came to live
together, they would camp in a great hoop, which was more sacred than
any of the smaller hoops that made it. And if there were laws to be
made for all the hoops to obey or something to decide for all of them,
then each _teoshpaiay_ would bring its council tepee to the center of
the great hoop; and with all these tepees they would make a big place
for all the councils and chiefs to meet as one, and this they called
tepee-thrown-over-together. It had no roof, only walls, because it was
not needed very long.

“And it was here that four were chosen to be chiefs above all
others--one _wichashita nacha_, who is highest, and three _nacha_, who
were next.

“Also each hoop had its own _akichita_, and they were the keepers of
all the laws. They were like relatives of the thunder beings, and
theirs was the power of lightning. Nothing could stop them; and if any
man broke a law, they took care of him, even a brother or a father. If
the chief himself broke a law, the _akichita_ could throw him out of
the tepee _okige_, and a better man would be chosen. If any should go
on a war party or a hunt when the council said, ‘no,’ the _akichita_
could whip them and cut their tepees in pieces. And if any fought the
_akichita_, they would be killed. If you broke a law, it was like
breaking the sacred hoop a little; and that was a very bad thing, for
the hoop was the life of the people all together.

“If an _akichita_ did some bad thing or did not do what he ought to
do, then the _wichasha yatapika_ could throw him out before all the
people; and it was better to die than to see shame in every face. Even
little boys could mock such a man and no one would stop them. For the
_wichasha yatapika_ [men whom all praise] were stronger at last than
all others except Wakon Tonka; and yet they did not make the laws. They
chose the chiefs and the councilors and the _akichita_ from among
themselves; and any man could become one of them, but it was not easy,
and it took a long time.

“It was like this. Maybe I am a young man and I think to myself that
I want to be a chief sometime. I don’t say anything to anybody about
this, but I know what I must do. First, I must be very brave. I have
to kill an enemy, I have to count coup so many times, and I have to
get a scalp. Nobody can say I was ever afraid. But that is only the
beginning. I must never break any laws, I must be good to everybody in
the hoop, so that afterwhile people notice this and talk about it until
everybody is saying it. And that too is only the beginning, although
it takes a long time. I must be very generous and always see that old
people and the needy have meat. I do not do this once or twice. I keep
on doing it until everybody notices and talks about it, and then I keep
on doing it.

“Maybe some old men and women are sitting around under a sun-shade
made of boughs. They are talking about the old days when everything
was better. And, afterwhile, one of them, who can see a little better
than the others, squints at a hilltop, and says: ‘A horseback is
coming over there, and he is bringing something. I wonder who it is.’
Then they all squint at the horseback coming, and when he is closer,
another one says: ‘Why, that is Gray Bear’s son, Eagle Voice, and
I think he is bringing some meat.’ Then they all cry out together,
‘_hi-yay!_’ Because people have been talking about me, and the old
ones know I will come to them first with the tenderest pieces. But if
I am somebody else, and a stingy fellow, then the old people will say,
‘_heh-heh-heh_,’ and look down their noses. And if that is what old
people say about me, I am never going to be a _wichasha yatapika_, even
if I have killed a hundred enemies.

“After people have noticed these things for a long time, even the
_wichasha yatapika_ begin to talk about me in their meetings, and at
last they say: ‘This young Eagle Voice ought to be one of us.’ So they
have a big feast and a ceremony at the center of the hoop, with all the
people sitting around. And before they take me to be one of them, the
people are asked to say any evil thing they may know about me. But all
the people cry out together, ‘_hi-yay, hi-yay_,’ and not even a jealous
one can say anything bad at all. So they make me a man whom all praise,
and before all the people they teach me what I must do, and they say I
do not belong to myself any more, but to the people. Then I take the
pipe they offer and smoke it; and that is a sacred vow.

“Now I am a _wichasha yatapika_, and I can be an _akichita_, or a
councilor, or even a chief, if I keep on being brave enough and
generous enough and good enough. It is hard to be any of these, but
it is hardest of all to be a chief, because he must be _wachin tonka_
[great minded] standing above himself, as he stands above others.

“When they make him a chief, they will say: ‘Maybe your favorite dog
will come home with an arrow in him. You will not be angry, but hold
fast to your pipe and remember the laws. Maybe some mangy dog will
water your tepee in the dark [malicious gossip]. You will have neither
eyes nor ears, but you will look into your heart, and go ahead. If
anything you have is better for another than for you, it will be his.
You do not belong to yourself.’

“I will tell you a little story to show how it was in the old days
before the sacred hoop was broken. Once there was a great chief, a
_wichashita nacha_, and although he was still strong like a bear, he
was not young any more; and the people listened to his words for he was
wise. This old chief had taken a young woman who was very good to see,
and he was so fond of her that people talked about it and smiled behind
their hands; but they felt kind when they smiled. And I think the young
woman liked the chief because he was so good to her, but maybe she was
only proud because his power was so great. And afterwhile there was a
young warrior who was very brave, and also very good to see; and these
two looked upon each other until they could see nothing else at all. So
they ran away together far from the village; and the people talked and
talked, wondering what the chief would do. And this is what he did.

“When he had called an _akichita_, he said: ‘Go find this man and woman
wherever they are and bring them here to me.’ It was done as he had
spoken. And when at last the two stood before him in the tepee _okige_,
for they had hidden far away to be alone together, they were so afraid
that they could hardly stand. But the old chief smiled at them and
said: ‘Sit down beside me here, and do not be afraid. No law is made
against your being young, and, if there were, I broke it long ago.’

“So the young woman sat upon his left, and on his right the other. And
when the three had sat thus very still for a long while, just looking
at the ground, the old chief spoke to the _akichita_: ‘Bring here to
me my best buffalo runner, the young sorrel with the morning star on
his forehead.’ And when this was done, he took the end of the horse’s
lariat and placed it in the hands of the young man on his right. Then
he said: ‘Give me my bow and arrows yonder’; and these also he placed
in the young man’s hands.

“Then he turned to where the young woman sat weeping with her face in
her hands, and what he did then was very hard for him to do.

“They tell it he was very gentle while he undid the long braids of the
young woman, who was weeping harder now. And when her hair was hanging
all loose down her back and she was just a girl again, he took a comb
and combed it gently. Over and over he combed it, until it was all
smooth and shining like the bend of a crow’s wing in the sun. Then with
great care he parted it and braided it again, doing this very slowly.
And when the braids were tied, he took the woman’s hand and placed it
in the hand of him who sat upon the right. ‘Go now,’ he said, ‘and be
good people.’ Some tell it there were tears upon his face, but others
that he kept them in his breast. I do not know.

“All this was many snows ago, before the sacred hoop was broken, and
when people still were good.”




VI

_Chased by a Cow_


The old man chuckled after one of his long silences. “Yes,” he said,
“I wondered if the great voice was angry when it called to me on the
pointed hill. But my grandfather was not angry about the pipe, and
maybe the great voice was not either. I thought and thought about this.
Maybe that was the only voice Wakon Tonka had, and it only sounded
angry because it was so big. Maybe it was cheering me for making the
offering.

“Everybody was getting ready for the big hunt, and something wonderful
was going to happen. I might even get a cow, a lame one; and then
everybody would praise me. Anyway, it would be a calf--one that got
lost, maybe in a draw to one side away from the herd. When I had killed
it, I would find my mother and grandmother, and they would come and
butcher it. Then we would pack the meat on Whirlwind, and when we came
into the village with the meat, people would notice and my grandmother
would tell the other old women: ‘See what my grandson did, and he is
going to give it all to the old people.’

“The scouts had gone out to look for a bison herd over towards where
the sun comes up, and one day the criers went about the village,
calling: ‘Make moccasins for your children! Look after the children’s
moccasins!’ And that meant to be ready, for we were going to move. Then
early next morning the criers went around, calling: ‘Councilors, come
to the center! Councilors, come to the center and bring your fires!’
They did this because in the old days a long time ago, the people had
no matches or flint and steel. They could make fire another way in dry
rotten wood by rubbing sticks together, but that was hard and could not
always be done. Fire was sacred then, and had to be kept alive when the
people moved. Then when they camped again, everybody came to the center
and got fire for their own tepees. They did not have to do it this
time, but it was part of living in a sacred manner, and that was good
for the people.

“When the councilors had brought their fires to the center, the criers
shouted to the people: ‘Take it down! Take it down!’ And the women all
began taking down the tepees and packing everything on pony-drags. Then
when everything was ready we began moving towards where the sun comes
up, for that way the scouts had gone. First were the six councilors
on foot; then came the chiefs with the criers behind them, then the
_akichita_, and after them were the people with the loaded pony-drags.
If there were enemies to be feared, there would be riders out there on
our flanks and some ahead and behind; but there was no enemy to fear
the way we were going; and we were so many that no band of Crows would
attack us moving.

“There were four _teoshpaiay_ going together on this hunt, one after
the other in a long line; and it makes me feel good to remember how it
looked. The _akichita_ were not very strict before we came near the
bison, and the children could play along the way. Maybe the girls would
pick pretty flowers or dig up some wild turnips, or there might be a
clump of rabbit berry bushes looking smoky with the berries getting red
in them, like sparks; or, if it was late enough, plums might be getting
good to eat, and the children would pick them while the people were
passing. The bigger boys could play ‘throwing them off their horses.’
That was a rough game, but it was good for boys because it helped them
to be brave warriors later on. They would divide up into little bands
and charge each other, wrestling from the horses’ backs, and sometimes
a boy would get hurt. I was not big enough yet for that game, but I had
a good time on Whirlwind, and sometimes I would get on a high place and
see all the people traveling in a sacred manner. They were happy, and
you could hear them singing here and there along the line. Maybe a drag
pony would lift his head and neigh because the singing of the people
made him want to sing too; and then the other ponies would lift their
heads and sing down along the line.

“That was the next time I saw Tashina. I was riding up and down the
line with some other boys; and when we came to where the Miniconjou
were, I heard somebody cry out: ‘_Shonka ’kan! Shonka ’kan!_ Come and
pull my tepee!’ And it was Tashina looking up at me. I was getting
to be a big boy, for I had mourned and wandered, and I had killed a
deer. Also I was going to kill a bison cow pretty soon, or anyway a
calf. So I was too big to play with girls any more, and I did not say
anything back. I wanted to talk to her, because I liked her; but I just
made Whirlwind prance and rear. And when I rode away, I could see her
sticking her tongue out at me and I heard her cry: ‘Yah! Yah! Go and
eat grass! Go and eat grass, _Shonka ’kan sheetsha_ [bad horse]!’”

With a chuckle the old man went into one of his reveries, gazing at me
with eyes that saw what wasn’t there. “She _was_ a pretty little girl,”
he said, more to himself than to me; “a very pretty little girl.” Then
the focus of his gaze shortened to include me, and he continued:

“It was a time for the people to be happy, so we traveled slowly. And
when the sun stood high above us, it would be time to rest awhile and
let the ponies graze. The councilors would choose a place where there
was water and good grass. Then the criers would call out to the people:
‘Take off your loads and rest your horses! Take them off and rest your
horses.’ And if wild turnips were growing there, they would say: ‘Take
your sticks and dig some turnips for yourselves!’ And the women would
do this while the ponies drank and grazed and the councilors sat on a
hillside watching the people. And when they had smoked together maybe
two or three pipes, it would be time to move again, and the criers
would call: ‘Now put on your loads! Put them on!’ And we would move, as
before, until the sun was getting low.

“By that time the councilors would know a good place to camp for the
night where there was plenty of wood, water, and grass, and the criers
would tell the people to make camp.

“We were all camped the sacred way, in a big hoop of four hoops with
the opening towards where you are always facing [the south], and the
tepee-thrown-over-together was in the center. The drags were all
outside the circle, and, all around, the horses were grazing with the
horse guards watching them. Smokes were standing above the tepees, for
it was morning and the people were eating.

“Then there was a crier shouting: ‘They are returning! The scouts I
have seen. They are returning!’ And all the people came out of the
tepees to look. Three horsebacks were coming over the hill towards
where the sun comes up, and they had something good to tell, for as
they galloped down the hillside we could hear them singing together.

“When they had entered the hoop where you are always facing, they
turned to the left and rode single file about the circle from left to
right, looking straight ahead and saying nothing; and the people waited
and were still. And when they had come again to the opening, they
turned to the right and rode towards the center where the councilors
and chiefs were waiting in the tepee-thrown-over-together. And as the
riders came near, a crier spoke for the scouts, calling to the chiefs
and councilors: ‘Come forth and make haste! I have protected you, and
you shall give to me in return.’

“Then the chiefs and councilors came forth, and the scouts sat down in
front of them, facing the tepee, and all the people crowded around to
see and hear.

“Then the chief filled a pipe and lit it; and when he had presented it
to the Six Powers, first to the four quarters of the earth, then to the
Great Mystery above, and last to the ground, which is the mother of all
living things, he placed it on a buffalo chip in front of him, with the
stem towards the scouts. There was bison hide on the mouthpiece of the
pipe, and it was sacred; for it was through the bison that Earth, the
mother of all, fed the people, and whoever smoked the pipe was nursing
at his mother’s breast like a little child. The chip was sacred too,
for it meant the bison. They were the life and shelter of the people’s
hoop, and when they died, the sacred hoop was broken.

“Then the chief spoke to the scouts: ‘The nation has depended upon you.
Whatever you have seen, maybe it is for the good of the people you have
seen it.’ And when he had said this, he offered the pipe to the scouts.
They took it, smoking in turn, and that was a sacred vow that what they
told would be the truth.

“Then the chief spoke again, and said: ‘At what place have you stood
and seen the good? Report it to me and I shall be glad. You have been
raised on this earth, and every corner of it you know. So tell me the
truth.’

“The first scout was so anxious to tell that he forgot the sacred rules
and held up his thumb to the Great Mysterious One. But before he spoke,
the chief shook his head and said: ‘_Hunh unh!_ The first finger! The
first finger for the truth!’ So the first scout raised his first finger
and said: ‘You know where we started from. We came to a hill yonder,
and there in the next valley we saw some bison.’

“The chief stood up when he heard this, and said: ‘Maybe you have seen
more farther on. Report it to me and I shall be glad.’ And the second
scout raised his first finger, saying: ‘Beyond this hill there is
another, and there we saw a small herd grazing in a valley.’ And the
chief spoke again: ‘I shall be thankful if you will tell me more of the
good that you have seen.’ And the third scout said: ‘From still another
hill farther on, there we saw a big herd grazing in a valley and on the
hillsides.’

“Then the chief spoke again, saying: ‘Maybe you have not told me all
the good that you have seen. Tell it now, and all the people will be
glad.’ When he had said this, the scouts forgot the rules and all began
talking together: ‘There is still another hill! _Wasichu! Wasichu!_
There was nothing but bison all over the prairie! More than many looks
could see! _Wasichu! Wasichu!_’

“When they said that, they did not mean white men. They meant very,
very much of something, more than could be told or counted, like a
great fatness. Then the chief cried out: ‘_Hetchetu aloh!_ [So be
it].’ And all the people shouted, ‘_hi-yay, hi-yay_,’ and the grazing
horses out yonder, hearing the people, sent forth voices, neighing for
gladness; and dogs raised their snouts and howled.

“Then the criers went forth and the people were still to hear them:
‘Many bison I have heard! Many bison I have heard! Your knives you must
sharpen! Your arrows make sharp. Make ready, make haste, your horses
make ready! We shall go forth with arrows. Plenty of meat we shall
make!’

“I had already sharpened my arrows so often that if I sharpened them
much more, I wouldn’t have any left. While the people were all getting
ready for the big killing of meat, the council sent for certain young
men who were being noticed by the people, and to these the chief said:
‘Good young warriors, my relatives, your work I know is good. What you
do is good always. So today you will feed the helpless and the old and
feeble. Maybe there is an old woman or an old man who has no son. Or
there may be a woman who has little children but no man. You will know
these and hunt only for them. Today you belong to the needy.’ This made
the young men very proud, for it was a great honor.

“Then as the people were taking their places for going to the hunt, the
criers shouted: ‘Your children, take care of them! Your children, take
care of them!’ After that the children must stay close to their parents
and not run around, for they might scare the bison; also, they might
get hurt.

“Then we started off towards the big herd. First went the three scouts,
riding abreast to show the way. Then came the councilors and the chiefs
with the criers; and after them came all the _akichita_ riding twenty
abreast, and next were all the hunters, four or five abreast. If any
hunter rode ahead of the _akichita_, he would be knocked off his horse
and he would get no meat that day. Also, he would see shame in all
eyes. The killing was for the nation, and everyone must have the same
chance to kill. After the hunters were the women and older men, who
would follow up and butcher the kill. Each hunter knew his arrows by
the marks, and so he claimed his meat. And if two should claim a kill,
then an _akichita_ could decide between them or have the meat divided.

“We did not stop to rest that day, and when the sun was getting high,
we began to see bison. Sometimes they were scattered out and sometimes
there were small herds, but nobody was allowed to shoot at them or to
cry out in a loud voice. They might get frightened, and the running
fear might spread like fire in dry grass, until the big herd yonder
caught the fear and started running. It was hard for the younger
hunters riding behind the _akichita_ up there; but no one pulled a bow
or raised a voice; and all the children kept close to their mothers
with the drags in the rear.

“The sun was high and had started down a little, when we saw that those
ahead up yonder had stopped on a ridge to look. And while they were
looking, voices came running all along the line down to us: ‘Many bison
they have seen! Make ready, make haste! Make ready to follow with your
knives! They are going to charge!’

“Then just when the voices had come running back to us, we could see
the hunters and _akichita_ up yonder splitting into two big bands; one
to the right and one to the left.”

With a hand at his brow the old man peered narrow-eyed at the head
of the column on the ridge that was a lifetime away. Then, clapping
his hands high above his head, he cried: “They are charging over the
hill! They are all charging! The hunters and _akichita_ are charging!
_Hoka-hey! hoka-hey!_

“Everybody was excited, and the people were hurrying towards the hunt,
except the very old ones and the women who stayed back to take care of
the drag ponies and the children and to set up the tepees; for that was
a good place to camp and there would soon be plenty of meat to dry and
many hides to tan.

“Nobody was noticing me, and there were no _akichita_ around there,
so when I saw the hunters charge I charged too--not towards where the
hunters had gone, but away from the people to the right where there was
a big patch of buffalo berry bushes to help me. When Whirlwind and I
got behind them, we started on the run towards where there was a break
in the ridge ahead, to the right of where the hunters went over. While
we were crossing the valley, my calf grew so fast that when I rode into
the ravine, it wasn’t a calf at all any more, but a big fat cow, and
maybe even two cows.

“The ravine was full of thunder that was coming from a rolling storm of
dust ahead. And when we got close over there and stopped to look down,
we were a little scared. Whirlwind snorted and wanted to go back, but I
had made an offering and I had to do something.

“Dust and thunder, dust and steady thunder with bull voices roaring in
it! And wherever the dust blew thinner in the wind or lifted a little,
there were backs, backs, backs of galloping bison bobbing up and down;
bison beyond counting and more and more. And here and there over to the
left I could see horsebacks charging in and out along the flanks of the
herd, killing and killing, lost in the dust and appearing, lost and
appearing. And while I looked, a big man on a big Wasichu horse that
he must have taken from the soldiers came charging out of the dust. He
was after a big bull with only a spear. Just as he was coming in front
of me, he rode close and leaned far over. Then I saw him drive the
spear with both hands in behind the bull’s front leg. I forgot that I
should not be where I was, and I yelled and yelled; but the man did not
know I was there. I could see that his mouth was wide open and I knew
he was shouting for a kill, but he did not make any sound in the steady
thunder. Then the bull stopped and turned and charged the horseback;
but the man did not run away. He was very brave. Also he knew how to
handle his horse, and the horse was wise too. They dodged and reared
and circled until the man got hold of his spear again. Then with both
hands he drove it deeper and pried it back and forth. The bull’s mouth
gushed blood, and when he started running again, he wabbled; and I
could see the man prying the spear back and forth until the dust hid
them.

“Just then, right down there not far away, a cow came loping with my
calf! I did not wait. I charged. It is not easy to put an arrow where
you want it from a galloping horse’s back and the horse all excited.
I was yelling, ‘_yu-hoo_,’ already, because I had one arrow sticking
in the calf’s hump and was pulling the bow for another try at the
right place behind the front leg, when Whirlwind squealed and reared
and wheeled away. For a long time after that it made me feel a little
better when I blamed him for running away with me just as I was really
getting my calf. But I was as scared as he was when I saw the cow
charging us, and I did not look around until we were far up the side of
the ridge. By that time the cow was loping back to find her calf.

“When I got Whirlwind to stand still, I was a little scared yet, and
I was ashamed too. Nobody but the cow saw me running away, but Wakon
Tonka could see everything, and I had made an offering. So I thought,
there are plenty of calves, and when Whirlwind is not afraid any more I
will charge again. Maybe it will be better next time.

“But that part of the herd was getting thinner as it passed to the
right, and I could see more and more hunters among them, killing and
killing. Sometimes I could even hear their cries above the rumbling
sound when they killed: ‘_Ohee! Yuhoo!_’ Then I said to myself, ‘If I
go down there now they will see me and the _akichita_ will get me.’ So
I did not go down. Anyway, it was good to watch the hunters killing,
and that is what I did. Afterwhile, when the dust and rumbling had
passed, I could see the people yonder scattered in spots all over the
prairie butchering the kill. That made me very hungry, so I galloped
down there where the grass was beaten to dust; and wherever I came to
a butchering they would give me something to eat--a chunk of liver,
maybe with gall poured over it, or a piece of the strip of fat that
runs along the backbone. It is good raw, but it is even better roasted
a little. By the time I found my grandmother and grandfather, they
had a fat cow all cut up on the stretched-out hide. They told me to
ride over to a draw and to get some dry brush; and when I got back, my
grandmother made a little fire. Then she roasted pieces of fat hump
meat, and some old people came over to help us eat it.

“When the sun was getting low people were going back to camp with their
horse-loads and drag-loads of meat and hides; and they kept on coming
in with their loads long after it was dark. Before the feasting began,
all the councilors and chiefs went into the tepee-thrown-over-together,
and people came from all over the village with gifts of the best meat.
This is how they gave thanks for good leading. Then the councilors
cried, ‘_hiya-hiya_,’ and sang all together to the bringers of food.
And when the councilors had eaten awhile, the criers went about the
village again, calling: ‘All come home, for it is more than we can
eat. Come home! There is plenty for all!’ Then the people came with
their cups and crowded about the tepee-thrown-over-together that all
might have some of the councilors’ meat; and after that the feasting
began--feasting and dancing all night long. I can see the circle of
the village yet with all the fires and the happy people feasting
and singing. It makes me want to sing, too, for that is the way the
Grandfather meant we should live. It was the sacred way and it kept the
people good.

“That was near the Rosebud River, and it was a big killing; for we
stayed there and killed until there was plenty for all. We had no
hunter in our tepee, but the chosen young men offered us more than we
could use, and my father’s brother-friend, Looks Twice, took care of
us. He brought the meat to my grandparents; but I know now that he was
thinking most of my mother, because he wanted to be my father; and
afterwhile he was.

“Next day there were drying racks all over the village, and I can see
the stripped red meat turning brown in the bright sunlight, and the
brown turning black. And I can see the happy women sitting in little
circles with their sharp knives, unwinding the chunks of meat in their
laps. They are joking and laughing and holding up their strips of meat
to see whose is thinnest and longest. And outside the village raw hides
are pegged out everywhere, and the old women are scraping and beating
them for the soft tanning that made them good to wear and to sleep in
on the coldest night.

“But I kept thinking and thinking about the calf I did not kill and of
the way I got chased by the cow. If it had only been a bull I might
have felt better. It helped a little to blame Whirlwind for running
away; but then I would remember the big voice that called to me on the
pointed hill when I offered my grandfather’s pipe, and I began to feel
sure the voice was angry at me.

“Some of us boys made a war-game of sneaking up to the racks at night
and stealing meat without getting caught. It was like going on the
war-path for enemy horses. We had war councils out in the brush before
we went and kill-talks around the fire if we got back safe with the
meat. That was fun; but I kept thinking and thinking about the angry
voice, and I was not quite happy. I wanted to try for a calf again, but
I was afraid to try because I kept hearing the great voice scolding me
for stealing the pipe from my grandfather.

“When my grandmother noticed how I was acting, she said: ‘I wonder what
is the matter with our grandson. He looks queer and he does not say
anything.’ Then my mother looked at me and said: I think he has been
eating too much again. He is always eating.’”




VII

_Going on Vision Quest_


After putting a chunk of cottonwood in the sheet-iron stove, I sat
waiting for the old man to emerge from a reverie that he seemed to
be inducing with faint, dreamlike tones from his eagle-bone whistle.
Finally, as he had given no indication of emerging, I broke the
silence: “Are you sure now that the great voice was not scolding you?”

He peered squintingly at me for a while, and said: “I am very old, and
I have learned so many things that I do not know much any more. Maybe I
was wiser before my ears were troubled with so many forked words.

“In the old days, it was from the seven tepees and the seven council
fires that our teaching came. It was older than the oldest grandfather
could remember his grandfather telling him; and more and more
grandfathers before that until it was old as hills, old as stars.

“The wisdom of the teaching was from vision and the vision was from
Wakon Tonka: The people could not do anything right unless the Great
Mysterious One helped them; and for this they prayed and made sacred
songs and dances, and had a sacred way for doing everything. When a boy
was just beginning to be a man, he had to go on vision quest; for what
he saw would show him the good road and give him power, so that his
life might be a story good to tell. I was thinking of my vision when
you bothered me.”

He was silent again while he filled his pipe and lit it. Then, drawing
hollow-cheeked upon the stem, he smoked awhile and brooded in the
little cloud he made.

“_Dho!_” he said at length, uttering with explosive force the syllable
of emphasis on something said or thought. “_Dho!_” Passing the pipe
to me, he resumed aloud the tenor of his brooding. “It is so! Are the
people good, and do they get along together any more? The hoop is
broken and the people have forgotten. There is no voice on any hill to
tell them, and they have no ears to hear.

“The hoop was breaking even then when I was happy and a boy; but then I
did not know it, for the world was still as big as day, and Wakon Tonka
could be found on any hill, and something wonderful could happen.

“After the Attacking of the Wagons the soldiers went away and our
warriors burned their towns. And when the grass was new again there
was a treaty with the Father in Washington. He said our land would be
ours and no Wasichu could ever come there. You can see his tongue was
forked. Red Cloud was not with us any more. The Great Father made an
Agency for him on the North Platte. And that was bad; for many of our
people went down there to eat Wasichu food, and take the many presents
the Great Father gave them. And these they traded for the _minne
sheetsha_ [bad water, whiskey] that made them crazy, so that they
forgot the Mother of all and the bison and the sacred hoop.

“But our Bad Face band that had been Red Cloud’s people would not go.
Big Road was with us, and Little Hawk and Black Twin. Also Crazy Horse
was ours; and now I see that he was greatest of them all. Sometimes
some of our young men would go down there to get new guns and lead and
powder, and what they told, the people talked and talked about it, and
some of it I heard; but it was like a story. I think there were fifty
lodges of us, and we lived the old way in the bison country of the
Tongue and the Powder and the Rosebud; and with us were the Miniconjous
and the Sans Arcs. I remember how they said the loafers and Wasichus at
the Agency made fun of us and called us the wild Lakota; but they were
the foolish ones. The hoop we lived in had grown smaller, but it was
not broken yet, and the voices of the seven tepees were not still.

“I was getting stronger fast and I think it was about the time when Red
Cloud made the treaty that I got my first calf. The treaty was just
something people said, a little thing a long way off that maybe was not
so; but the calf was very big. I gave the meat to old people, and they
praised me, so that my grandmother and my grandfather and my mother
were proud of me.

“There were more snows and grasses and I was getting tall when I heard
Looks Twice telling my mother about Red Cloud’s long journey to see the
Great Father and of the strange things that he saw in the world of the
Wasichus where the sun comes from. Looks Twice was my father then, and
my grandparents did not live with us, but he took care of them, and he
was good to me and taught me many things about hunting and war.

“What he told about Red Cloud was like an _ohunka_ story the old folk
tell only at night, and it is wonderful to stay awake and listen, but
only little children must believe it. There were so many Wasichu towns
yonder where the Great Father lived and the sun comes from that they
could not be counted; and so big they were that a horseback could ride
and ride and always stay in the town. And in those towns the Wasichus
were as many as the bison when they follow the grass all together.
And the tepees were made of stone, tepee on top of tepee, so that
if you would see the top, you must look far up and then look again,
and sometimes after that, again. And there was more and more about
the great medicine power of the Wasichus. There were big iron horses
breathing smoke and fire, and there was a gun so long and heavy that
maybe a hundred men could not lift it, and when it shot, there was a
great thunder cloud full of lightning, and the whole sky was full of
thunder. And the story got bigger, the more it was told; for on the
other side of a great water that was like all the prairie without
grass, there were more and more Wasichus, more and more towns of stone.

“I could look around and see the world was just as it always was. Maybe
Red Cloud was getting to be a Wasichu with a forked tongue like all
the others. People said he had worn Wasichu clothes yonder and looked
foolish. He was not ours any more and we did not like him.

“I think I was about thirteen winters old, and I was a big boy. You can
see that I was tall before so many snows bent me down, and then I was
almost a man. I could swim farther under water than most boys, and when
we played throwing-them-off-their-horses, only an older boy could throw
me off. I liked to fight, and I wanted to go to war; but Looks Twice,
who was my second father, said I would be ready after another snow and
that I ought to go on vision quest first. It made me feel bad when he
went with a war party against the Shoshonis and told me to stay at home
and look after the horses. And I felt worse when he came back with a
scalp on his coup-stick and some more good horses. He always took me
hunting with him, and I could kill a cow, but it was not easy for me
yet, and he would come and finish killing one that was getting away
from me. Sometimes he could shoot an arrow clear through a cow if the
point did not strike a bone.

“Of course, I played all the games with the other boys, but we
all wanted to go to war, and we would get tired playing. In the
winter before the deep snow had covered the ice, we would play
_chun-wachee-kyapi_ [make-the-wood-dance]. We had short round pieces of
wood with sharp points on them [tops], and when we wrapped them with
a long piece of sinew and threw them, they would spin on the ice, and
we tried to break the dancing woods of the other boys by making ours
dance against theirs. Or we would get tired doing that and maybe play
ice-mark. We would fasten pieces of hard rawhide on our moccasins, then
run and slide to see who could slide farthest. Or we would make little
sleds with two buffalo ribs fastened together, with two feathers to
guide them; and these we would throw on the ice to see whose would go
farthest. We called this _huta-nachuta_, but I never knew why. Then
maybe if we got tired doing that we would have a war, dividing up and
fighting with blunt arrows; or maybe we would put mud balls on willow
sticks and throw them at each other. Sometimes we would have very hard
fights, and boys would get hurt; but they did not care.

“There was another game that showed how brave we were. It could be
played with dry sunflower seeds or pieces of dry rotten wood that would
keep on burning without a flame. A boy would hold out his hand and they
would put the burning piece on the back of it. If his hand shook or he
made a face or brushed the piece off, he lost the game and some other
boy tried it. Sometimes when a boy was very brave this made a big sore,
and he was very proud of it.

“When the snow was deep and it was very cold, it was good to lie back
against the tepee wall with the wind outside sending forth a voice like
a bull, and listen to the men telling stories about war and hunting
and brave deeds. They would come over to eat and smoke, and sometimes
they would stay so long I did not know when they went. If they got to
arguing about something, I would just roll up--and go to sleep; then
it would be morning and they would not be there. I was hungry for the
stories, but they made me want to go out and do something that would
make a story with me in it.

“We had been camping on the Greasy Grass. The tender grasses had
appeared and were a handbreadth high in the valley; and the tops of the
hills were greening a little. Then my grandfather came over and talked
about me with my new father; and they said it was time for me to seek
a vision. So my new father caught a couple of his best horses--both of
them young--and took them as a gift to an old _wichasha wakon_ [holy
man], whose name was Blue Spotted Horse. When the old man had accepted
the gift for what he was going to do, my father and grandfather took me
over to his tepee. He could not see very well, and he was so old that
he had something like new moons in his eyes. He looked at me a long
while, and it made me feel queer, because I thought it might be a ghost
behind me that he was seeing. Afterwhile he said: ‘Let a sweat-lodge be
prepared for this young man, and when he has been cleansed, bring him
here, and I will teach him.’

“So there were two friends who made a sweat-lodge for me with willow
boughs bent over like a cup upside down, and over this they fastened
rawhide. At the opening of the lodge they set a stick with a piece of
red cloth at the top for a sacred offering to the Spirit. Then they
heated rocks in a fire, and when they had put these in the center of
the little lodge, they poured water on them, and I had to go into the
steam and close the flap tight. I felt like crying when I was in there
again, because the other time was when my father went away and I saw
him in my dream under the scaffold. Afterwhile they told me to come
out. Then they rubbed me with sacred sage until I was dry and felt good
all over. After that they gave me a buffalo robe to put around me and
took me back to Blue Spotted Horse, and went away.

“I felt queer again and a little scared while I sat there all alone
with the old man in his tepee, and maybe a ghost behind me that he was
seeing. When he had looked at me that way for a long time and I wanted
to get up and run away, he said: ‘This is a sacred thing you are doing,
and if the heart is not good something very bad will happen. But do not
be afraid, for I have seen into your heart. Already you have fed old
people, and you want to be a man they all praise. While you were in the
sweat-lodge your father came to me, and he will help you on the hill.
So do not be afraid, and I will teach you.’

“Then he filled a pipe and lit it; and after he had presented the
stem to the four quarters of the world and the Great Mysterious One
above and Maka, the mother earth, he held the stem to me and I touched
it with my mouth. When I did that, I could feel a power running all
through me and up my backbone into my hair.

“Then he taught me what I must know to go on vision quest. I did not
learn it all then, but I heard it again when I was older, and this is
what he told me.

“There is a great hoop; and so big it is that everything is in it, for
it is the hoop of the universe, and all that live in it are relatives.
When you stand on a high hill and look all around, you can see its
shape and know that it is so. This hoop has four quarters, and each is
sacred, for each has a mysterious power of its own, and it is by those
powers that we live. Also each quarter has its sacred objects and a
color, and these stand for its power.

“First is the place where the sun goes down. Its color is blue like the
thunder clouds, and it has the power to make live and to destroy. The
bow is for the lightning that destroys, and the wooden cup is for the
rain that makes live.

“Next is the place where the great white giant lives, and its color is
white like the snows. It has the power of healing, for thence come the
cleansing winds of the winter. The white wing of the goose stands for
that wind of cleansing and a sacred white herb for the healing.

“Next is the place whence comes the light, where all the days of men
are born; and its color is red like the sunrise. It has the power of
wisdom and the power of peace. The morning star stands for wisdom, for
it brings the light that we may see and understand; and the pipe is for
the peace that understanding gives.

“Next is the place of the summer, and the color of it is yellow like
the sun. Thence comes the power to grow and flourish. The sacred staff
of six branches is for the power to grow, and the little hoop is for
the life of the people who flourish as one.

“Then at the place whence comes the power to grow, a road begins, the
good red road of spirit that all men should know; and it runs straight
across the hoop of the world to the place whence comes the power of
cleansing and healing, to the place of white hairs and the cold and the
cleansing of old age.

“And then there is a second road, the hard black road of difficulties
that all men must travel. It begins at the place whence come the days
of men, and it runs straight across the hoop of this world to the place
where the sun goes down and all the days of men have gone and all their
days shall go; far beyond is the other world, the world of spirit. It
is a hard road to travel, a road of trouble and need. But where this
black road of difficulties crosses the good red road of spirit at the
center of the hoop of the world, that place is very holy, and there
springs the Tree of Life. For those who look upon the Tree, it shall
fill with leaves and bloom and singing birds; and it shall shield them
as a _sheo_ [prairie hen] shields her chickens.

“While Blue Spotted Horse was telling me this, he drew the hoop and the
roads with his finger in the ashes by the fire, and I could see it all
as from a high place, like a picture.

“Then he told me how I must pray on the hill. Always before I pray I
must lift both hands high with my pipe in the right, and send forth a
voice four times--‘_hey-a-hey, hey-a-hey, hey-a-hey, hey-a-hey!_’ First
I should pray at the place where the sun goes down; then at the place
whence come the cleansing and healing; next where the light comes from
and the days of men begin; and after that where lives the power to
grow; and I should ask each power in turn to help me.

“Then I must walk the red road of spirit to the center of the hoop of
the world, and there I must present my pipe and pray for help to Wakon
Tonka. And when I have done this, I must remember the ground, the
mother of all, who has shown mercy to her children; I must lean low
and present my pipe to Maka, the earth, the only mother, and ask her to
help me; for my body is hers and I am her son.

“When I have done all this, I have only begun; for after I have rested
awhile, I must do it all over again. I must walk the black road to the
sundown and pray; then back to the holiest place in the center; then up
the red road to the quarter of cleansing, and pray; then back again to
the center and over the black road to the light and the beginning of
days. I must pray there, and return; and last, I must walk the red road
to the place where lives the power to grow. And when I have returned to
the holiest place at the center and prayed, I can rest awhile and think
hard about what I am doing.

“I cannot eat anything while I am on the hill, but I can have some
water; and I must stay awake as long as I am able. Afterwhile I shall
be crying, but I must keep right on, for that is when the praying
begins to have power.

“Then Blue Spotted Horse taught me a prayer that I must offer to Wakon
Tonka at the center of the hoop, and I said it after him six times.
There is great power in that prayer, and I could feel it even then when
I was a boy. Maybe you will learn it, Grandson, Wasichu though you are,
and it will help you to find the good red road and to do what you must
do in this world. But when I had said it six times, all at once I was
afraid; for what would happen if I could not remember it all!

“I did not say anything about this, but Blue Spotted Horse looked hard
at me awhile; and then he smiled, just like my own grandfather, and he
said: ‘Do not be afraid, Grandson, for Wakon Tonka will remember all
that you forget. There is one, there is no other, and all things are
in Wakon Tonka. The powers are only the ways the one makes all things
live. Take this pipe; hold fast to it and never let it go, for on this
will you depend. Now you will go forth to the hill, and do as I have
taught you. I will be with you there unseen; and when your prayers
are heard, I will send the friends to bring you here. To me alone the
vision shall be told.’

“He looked so kind when I took the pipe that I was not afraid of him at
all. So I said: ‘_Palamo yelo, tonka schla_--thank you, Grandfather.’
And as I got up and went forth into the slanting day I felt lighter on
my feet than I had ever felt before.”




VIII

“_Hold Fast; There Is More!_”


“_Dho!_” said Eagle Voice musingly, as he came slowly out of his inner
solitude; “I felt queer and light when I left the _wakon’s_ tepee, and
wherever I looked there was a strangeness like dreaming; and the sun
was getting low.

“The two friends were waiting there with a sorrel horse all saddled and
painted in a sacred manner for me. On his forehead was a thin new moon,
because he was facing the world of spirit where the new moons lead; on
his rump was the morning star to shine from behind me upon the dark
road ahead; on his left flank was the sacred hoop; and on his right
flank was the white wing of the goose.

“The friends did not say anything. They just took hold of me and set
me in the saddle; and then we started for the hill of vision. The one
who walked ahead to show the way was carrying the offerings for where
the sun goes down--the bow and wooden cup--, and for the place of
cleansing--the white wing and the herb. The other walked behind me with
a morning star made of rawhide for where the light and the days of men
are born; the hoop and staff for where the growing power lives. I held
the pipe; and I was holding it very tight with both hands in front of
me, for on that must I depend. It was a sacred, fearful thing that I
was doing, and although my legs were getting long there was still a
little boy inside me. I did not look where we were going. I just looked
hard at the pipe, and held it tight. There were four painted strips
of skin hanging from the stem, blue, white, red, and yellow for the
quarters and the powers. Also from the stem a long wing feather of an
eagle hung, and that was for the Great Mysterious One. Last, upon the
mouthpiece was the bison hide, and that was for the breast of Maka
where all that live, with legs or wings or roots or fins, are little
children nursing. I did not understand it all till I was older, but I
could feel the power in the pipe.

“The sun was shining bright and level across the world, getting ready
to go under, when we came to the hill standing high and alone, with
shadows gathered around it like a blanket and die last of day upon its
head. I felt an aching in my breast, for it was like the time we took
my father to the scaffold on the hill.

“When we came to the top I could see that the friends had prepared
the place for me. It was flat, and they had dug a hole there as deep
as to my waist, and round about it sacred sage was scattered. Then,
with the hole for center, they had made a circle, maybe fifteen steps
across, and at each quarter a stick was set, each with the proper color
on it--blue, white, red, yellow. There were strips of painted rawhide
for the black road and the red; and where these crossed at the holiest
place in the center the two friends put me down. Then when they had
placed the offerings at the proper quarters, they left a skin-bag full
of water, and went away down the hill leading the horse. They did not
say anything to me, and they did not look back. It was the way they
would have done if I were dead up there and lying on a scaffold.

“With my robe about my shoulders, I stood in the hole up to my hips,
holding the pipe in front of me. I watched the round red sun slip
under. A thin new moon appeared low down and like a ghost. It looked
lost and lonely yonder going to the spirit world. Some wolves mourned.
I remembered I had heard the criers calling to the people that the
village would move next day. The stars got brighter. The night was big
and empty when the wolves were still. The thin new moon touched the
edge of the world and sank. All at once I wanted to get out of the
hole and run and run back to my people before they went away. Then I
remembered my pipe. I must hold fast to it. On it must I depend. So
I held it as tight as I could, and right away I could feel the power
running all through me again, up my back and into my hair. I remembered
the _wakon_ said he would be with me, and that my father would help
me on the hill. I could almost hear him saying, ‘Never be afraid of
anything.’

“Then all at once everything was different, and I felt like praying.
So I threw back my robe and started naked for the quarter of the
sunset where the bow and cup were hanging; and as I went, the world
was a great shining bubble and in the midst of it the pipe and I were
floating. At the blue quarter I raised both hands with the pipe in my
right and cried out to the power that makes live and destroys, the
power of the rain and the lightning. Four times I cried, ‘_hey-a-hey_.’
Between the cries I waited and listened, but it was so far out yonder
that no voice came back. And when I cried, ‘Lean close and hear and
help me,’ there was nothing.

“I walked backward to the center and waited there awhile with my face
to the white quarter, where the goose’s wing and the white herb hung.
Then I went there, and, as before, I raised my hands and the pipe,
crying out four times and asking the power of cleansing and healing to
hear and help me. But the world was a big, empty bubble, and no voice
came back. At the red quarter of the morning star and the sunrise,
where the light is born and the days of men begin, I cried out four
times and asked for help; but there was nothing. At the yellow quarter,
where the sacred hoop and tree were set, I called upon the growing
power for help. The voice I sent forth went far, so far it could never
return, and there was stillness. When I stood in the hole at the most
sacred place in the center and raised my face and my hands and the
pipe, and prayed the prayer Blue Spotted Horse had taught me, there was
nothing. And there was nothing when I leaned with my face and my hands
and the pipe on Maka’s breast and asked the mother of all to help me.

“I prayed around the hoop again and again, but still there was nothing.
So I stood in the hole for a while and thought hard about what I was
doing. It was not easy to find a vision, and I must try and try until
I found it--like getting the first deer or the first bison calf, only
harder, maybe. Pretty soon I was not thinking about the vision at
all. I was in the brush by the waterhole and the deer was coming down
with the fawn to drink. The cow was chasing Whirlwind and me up the
hillside. I was coming into the camp with the haunch of the fawn on my
shoulder. My grandmother was jumping up and down crying: ‘Oh, see the
vision our grandson has brought us!’ Only it was not my grandmother,
but the _wakon_ looking that queer way at me. ‘If the heart is not good
something very bad will happen.’

“My head jerked, and at first I did not know where I was. Then I
remembered my pipe and held it tight and began my praying all over
again. I did that all night long, advancing to each of the quarters in
turn and back to the center. I did not rest long there, because I had
to stay awake as long as I was able. I got so tired and sleepy that
sometimes I would forget what I was saying; then I would remember the
old _wakon’s_ eyes with the new moons upside down in them and the queer
look, and then I would hold my pipe as tight as I could, and go ahead.
Sometimes the coyotes would mock me when I waited and listened between
cries, but that is all there was.

“The night was like always, until all at once there was the morning
star out yonder and a pale streak of day beneath it. It was looking
at me the way it did when I ’woke beside my father’s scaffold. I
remembered how I tried to hold him fast in the dream, but he melted
away and the buffalo-runner too.

“When I got back to the center that time I was crying a little, and
when I put my hands and my pipe and my face on Maka’s breast and asked
for help, I cried harder, because I was sad for my father, and the
grass on my face was soft like my own mother’s breast when I was little.

“When I looked again the sun was shining. Something was happening away
off yonder. There was a big whirling cloud of dust, and things were
flying around in it. Then I saw that the cloud was full of coup-sticks
with scalps on them, and they were flying about in the cloud and the
cloud was the whirling dust of many hoofs in a battle.

“I looked until it was not there any more. Then there was a voice above
and behind me that said, ‘Hold fast to your pipe, for there is more.’
When I turned to see whose voice that was, it was an eagle soaring low
and looking back at me until it was not there.

“The sun was shining almost level. I had gone to sleep kneeling in the
hole with my face and hands on the grass, and I thought it was still
morning. But the blue stick, with the bow and cup, was where the red
stick should be! The sun was shining low out of the blue quarter, and
it was getting ready to go under! I had slept dead all day, and it made
me feel good; but there were teeth in my belly, I was so hungry; for I
had not eaten the day before.

“I filled up on the warm water in the skin and thought about what I had
seen. Maybe all those coup-sticks and scalps meant I would be a great
warrior. But if they meant that, what more could there be, and what did
the eagle mean?

“I began to pray again as soon as the sun went under and the thin moon
appeared going to the spirit land. I prayed harder than ever because
of what the eagle said, and I could feel power getting stronger and
stronger in me every time I came back to the center. When I advanced
to the quarters, it was like floating with the pipe in the midst of a
great starry bubble. And afterwhile, whenever I began to say the prayer
to Wakon Tonka at the most sacred place, the prayer the _wakon_ taught
me, it made me cry. And this is the prayer:

“‘Grandfather, Great Mysterious One! You have been always, and before
you nothing has been. There is nothing to pray to but you. The star
nations all over the heavens are yours, and yours are the grasses of
the earth. You are older than all need, older than all pain and prayer.
Day in, day out, you are the life of things.

“‘Grandfather, all over the world the faces of living ones are alike.
In tenderness have they come up out of the ground. Look upon your
children, with children in their arms, that they may face the winds and
walk the good road to the day of quiet.

“‘Teach me to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that live. Give
me the strength to understand and the eyes to see. Help me, for
without you I am nothing.’[3]

“That is the prayer, Grandson. Maybe it will help you, Wasichu though
you are, to walk the black road and to find the flowering tree.

“The lean moon was gone and the night must have been getting old when
a great sudden voice roared from the quarter of the sundown where I
was facing. I had not seen it coming; but all at once it was there--a
heaped-up cloud coming fast towards me, with swift blue lightning on
its front and giants shouting in it. And in between the shouts that
shook the hill I could hear the deep voices of the rain singing all
together, like many warriors charging.

“I was not afraid. I felt very big and strong, and I cried back to the
thunder beings as loud as I could, ‘_hey-a-hey, hey-a-hey_,’ and they
answered. Then the lightning and the voices were all about me, so that
I could not hear the cries I sent forth, and the rain was a roaring
between thunders. I stood there, holding my pipe high in both hands,
but not a drop of rain touched me. And when the swift storm had past
and the stars were bright again, I could hear the giant voices cheering
far away.

“I knew my praying had been heard and I would see. The power was mighty
in me as I prayed around the hoop and back to the most sacred place at
the center.

“I was standing in the hole with my face and hands and pipe raised to
the Great Mysterious One, and I was crying hard while I prayed, but
I was happy and my heart sang. I was saying, ‘All over the world the
faces of living ones are alike.’ But all at once I was not saying; I
was seeing!

“I was standing on the highest hill in the center of the world. There
was no sun, but so clear was the light that what was far was near.
The circle of the world was a great hoop with the two roads crossing
where I stood, the black one and the red. And all around the hoop more
peoples than I could count were sitting together in a sacred manner.
The smokes of all the peoples’ little fires stood tall and straight
and still around the circle; and by the murmur of the voices of the
peoples, they were happy. And while I looked and wondered, there was a
tree that sprang at my feet from where the two roads crossed. It grew
so fast that, while I watched, it reached the sky and spread, filling
the heavens with blooms and singing leaves.

“Then I felt dizzy, and all at once I was sitting in the hole with my
head on the grassy edge of it. When I looked about me, the circle of
the world was empty and the sun was high above. While I sat there
looking around me at the empty world, I felt homesick for what I had
seen without my eyes, and there was an aching in my breast.

“Afterwhile I knew I was very hungry and thirsty. So I filled myself
with water from the skin; and when I looked around me again, far off
down a valley I could see the friends returning with the horse.”

The old man fell into one of his prolonged silences which I finally
broke with a question: “And the _wakon_? What did he say when you told
him?”

“I was alone with him in his tepee,” Eagle Voice replied, “and a
little fire made the light. He looked hard at me for a long time when
I had spoken, then he said: ‘You have seen in a sacred manner and your
praying has come alive. By the lightning and the thunder and the rain
that fell about you, the power to make live and to destroy will protect
you to the end of the black road, and the road will be long. You shall
breathe the dust of battles, counting many coups, and shall not be
hurt. You shall travel far and see strange peoples; but the sacred hoop
of all the peoples under the flowering tree, you shall not see by the
light of the sun. It was your father talking through the eagle. Hold
fast to the vision Wakon Tonka has sent you, and pray for the strength
to understand it. _Hetchetu aloh!_’

“Then he waved his hand, and I went out into the low day. I was very
hungry.”




IX

_The Old Bull’s Last Fight_


Dry snow had fallen in the night, and it was scurrying drearily under
a dull sky when I reached the old man’s tepee the next morning. He sat
smoking serenely with his blanket tucked about his waist and legs. “I
thought you might not come, Grandson,” he said; “but you are here, and
it is good.” When we had smoked awhile together, he began:

“We are going on my first war party today, and it is very bad weather
for fighting; but no snow has fallen in my story. The grass is getting
strong; the animals are making fat; there is a warm wind blowing; and I
am just a boy with long legs.

“After my vision quest people noticed me more than before, and they did
not treat me like a little boy. So when it was time for a war party to
start out, I went along on Whirlwind. There were thirty-seven of us,
and we were not all Oglalas. Some of us were Miniconjous and Sans Arcs,
and a few were Cheyennes, for we had camped together along the valley
of the Greasy Grass that winter. Some of us were only boys getting
started to be men; some had been in many fights and had scars to show;
and there were a few who almost could have been the grandfathers of the
boys.

“Crazy Horse was leading the party, and he was already getting a big
name then, for he had a mysterious power. People talked about him, and
told stories of his deeds in fights with the Crows and Shoshonis. Also
he had fought the soldiers when the hundred were killed on the ridge,
and that was a story too. He was not a big man, for I was even then
almost as tall as he; and he was not a little man either; just above a
little man, and he was not fat at all. He was slender and very strong;
and his face was lean too. It looked sharpened like an arrowhead. They
said he never wanted anything for himself but a good horse and weapons
to fight for his people, and that he always gave everything away.

“His hair was not so dark as most other Lakotas’ hair, but was a little
brown; and his skin was not so dark either. He always braided his
hair with one braid down each side of his head, and he wore a braided
buckskin with his medicine in a little bag at the end of it, also an
eagle-bone whistle, like mine, tied on. This he always had with him.

“Just before the beginning of a battle, when they were ready to charge,
he would get off his horse and take a handful of earth from a mole hill
or an ant hill or a prairie dog’s house. This he would put between the
horse’s ears and then on the hips of the horse. After that he would
stand in front of the horse and throw the earth back over him. Then he
would stand behind and throw some towards the horse’s head. Last, he
would rub some of the earth from the horse and put it on his own head.
He never wore a war bonnet in battle and he did not paint his face. He
wore only one spotted-eagle feather tied in his hair and hanging down
the back of his head. It was Chips, the _wakon_, who taught him to do
this, and always advised him. He would be ahead in a fight, and when
he killed an enemy he did not count coup. He would call others to take
the honors. I think he had so many honors he did not want any more, but
helped others to get them.

“He had a society of his own; not a feast and dance society, but just
followers. They were called _Ho-ksi-ha-ka-ta_ [The Last Child]. The
last child in a family is not thought of as much as the others, and so
he chose the last child to follow him. They were very brave warriors
because they had to do great deeds and be honored even more than the
first child. They were always trying to make themselves greater, and so
they were not afraid to do anything.

“They say the ponies Crazy Horse rode never lasted very long. They wore
out fast because of the great power that was in him. It was from a
vision that he had. When he rode into a battle, he would remember his
vision and be in it again, so that nothing in this world could hurt
him. I do not know this, but so the people all put it out. They did not
say it about other brave men, and I think it was so. When the Wasichus
murdered him, they had to do it from behind when he was not ready for
battle.

“I had seen him around the village as long as I could remember. People
thought he was queer because he did not talk often, and sometimes
he would not notice anybody. But he would stop to play with little
children, and he liked to tease and joke them till they laughed. When
he was on a war party, he was different. Then he would joke with the
warriors, and tell funny stories. It kept them feeling good, so that
they could fight better. They all liked him, and whatever he said, they
would do that.

“We rode towards where the sun comes up when the summer days are long.
The world was young and wide as day, and we were going almost to the
end of it beyond Mini Shoshay [the Missouri]. We crossed the Rosebud
and the Tongue and the Powder, and there were no enemies. The young
grass was getting strong for our horses, and there were deer and elk in
plenty, so that, man and horse, we feasted every night.

“There was story-telling around the fire when we had feasted; and there
was always one I did not hear the end of, being over-full of meat and
heavy sleep. When I had to take my turn along with older horse-guards;
it was like a wonderful story with no one to tell it out there under
the stars, listening to the horses chewing and blowing, and watching
every shadow all around. It made me feel tall and brave, and something
was always about to happen all at once, so I did not feel like sleeping.

“In the daytime we were often merry; and if someone started singing, we
would all sing together. That made the horses feel good, and maybe one
would neigh and start the others neighing.

“Where we could not see far, there would be riders out ahead of us
and off on both sides to watch for enemies. Sometimes when we were
walking the horses slowly to rest them, somebody would start a funny
story, and others would crowd close to take it from him and go on with
it. There was one about the young woman bear who saw a handsome young
hunter; and right away she loved him so much that she made up her mind
to have him for her man. This was very hard on the young hunter, and it
got harder and harder the longer the story became. He did not want to
shoot anybody who loved him so much, but he did not want to be her man
either. Sometimes he would think he had lost her at last; but just at
the wrong time she would show up again.

“Maybe there was a pretty girl and he had been sneaking around a long
while, trying to make her talk to him. And at last he would catch her
down by the creek when she was getting water for her mother, and they
would be talking. Then that woman bear would rush out of the brush
groaning and with tears running down her face, because she loved him so
much. And when the girl screamed and ran and he turned and ran too, the
bear would chase him--maybe up a tree.

“Then maybe the handsome young hunter had the girl for his woman at
last, and the bear would sneak into his tepee in the night just at the
wrong time, and there would be a big woman fight in there, and all the
people would come yelling to see who might be killing somebody.

“The bear always got away and there never was an end to that story. I
think it is still getting longer somewhere. Anybody could tell about
another time the woman bear did something, and he could make it up if
he could not remember any. This story had to be told like something
very sad and without seeming to know it was funny. I would laugh so
hard to hear the story and see how sad and worried the story-tellers
looked, that I could hardly stay on my horse. Maybe at night the bear
story would begin again; and when they got it going it was hard to
stop.”

Eagle Voice chuckled awhile, evidently enjoying remembered fragments of
the bear yarn.

“Yes,” he continued at length, “High Horse and I would roll and hold
our bellies with laughing. High Horse was a Miniconjou boy as old as I
was. I knew him when we were small and I used to play over there being
Tashina’s horse, and he was a girl’s horse too. It was on this war
party that we began to be brother-friends. We were always together;
and we liked each other so much that we decided we had been twins over
in Twin Land and had got parted because we did not happen to find the
same mother over here. We had heard the old _ohunka_ story from our
grandmothers, and maybe we did not quite believe it; but we wanted to,
because the story made it more wonderful for us to be together.

“Twins are not like other people, and there is something _wakon_ about
them. They come from Twin Land where they have lived together always;
and when they come into this world looking for a mother, they ride
around on jack rabbits. Nobody can see them; but they ride around
anyway, looking and looking for a good and pretty young woman. Maybe
she is getting water from a spring or a creek and the twins have
followed her on their jack rabbits. They are hiding in the brush,
and when the good and pretty young woman leans over, they hurry and
get inside of her. If only one gets inside, then the other must find
himself another mother, and all their lives each will be hunting the
other one.

“So we had found each other, and we said we were never going to be
parted any more. If the story wasn’t so, why did everybody know it?

“Beyond the Powder we came to a great flat land where many antelope
were feeding. Some high buttes were there standing all alone, and when
High Horse and I climbed one of them, far off towards where you are
always looking [south] we could see the tops of Pa Sapa [the Black
Hills] low down in the sky like a black thundercloud just beginning to
come up.

“We crossed the Slim Buttes, where our people had a big fight with the
soldiers a long while afterwards, and then we turned left towards where
the White Giant lives. Afterwhile we came to a stream that ran the same
way [the little Missouri] until it turned towards where the sun comes
up and ran into Mini Shoshay [the Missouri]. But before we got there,
we had to go through a strange land that was not like this world, and
sometimes it was hard to travel and we had to go around [badlands].
There would be flat grassland with many buttes scattered in it, all
staring at us like strangers that maybe never saw men and horses
before. And there would be places where the land was all tangled with
buttes and gullies; and sometimes these were burning and smoking. High
Horse and I said maybe it was always like that when you were getting
near the end of the world. Sometimes when I would look around, and
everything was still and strange and there were only the ponies’ hoofs
to hear, it would make me feel like getting out of breath.

“Afterwhile we came to where they said it was not far to Mini Shoshay,
and we would have to make boats. We were on the right side of the
little river that we were following, and our scouts had seen bison on
the other side. The river was not very deep or wide, so we crossed over
to kill some bison and to get hides for the boats.

“There was a steep hill, almost too steep for the horses; and we rode
up there to look. Bison were grazing all over the flat green valley in
among little hills down there, and they could not smell us or see us.
It was good to look at them, and we lay down along the rim of the hill
to rest and see awhile before we started killing. Right below us the
hill was very steep, and we could see almost straight down. One Horn,
the oldest in our band, was lying beside High Horse and me with his
chin on his arms, just looking; and afterwhile he said: ‘Watch that
old bull right down there. He is eloping with that young cow. See him?
When they do that, the cow is always a nice fat one. She will make good
eating, and I want a bite out of her hump.’

“We looked down, and there was an old grandfather bull with a young cow
following close after him. I think he was the biggest bull I ever saw,
and he looked proud and handsome like a great chief who lived a long
while ago in some great-grandfather’s story. He walked slowly with the
cow at his tail and did not notice the other bison at all.

“Then somebody said: ‘Look over there! We’re going to see a big bull
fight!’ We looked, and there were four fine young bulls all in a row
walking slowly towards the grandfather and the cow. When they were
not very far apart, they all stopped and looked at each other awhile.
Then the first young bull began to roll and tear the earth up with his
horns, throwing the dirt over his back and bellowing. When the old
bull saw this, he began doing the same thing, rooting up big chunks of
sod and tossing them over his back. His voice was deep like thunder
rumbling. Then they stopped and looked at each other a little while
with their muzzles near the ground.

“All at once they both charged, and when their skulls came together
it was like a gunshot. There was so much dust for a little while after
they came together that we could not see what was happening in there.
The cow just stood looking, and so did the three other young bulls.
Then all at once we saw one of the bulls up in the air. When the dust
cleared away, the grandfather was wiping his horns on the grass. Then
he walked over to the cow and licked her face, while the young bull was
getting up and staggering away with his insides dragging and his hind
feet tangled in them.

“In a little while the second young bull began rolling and bellowing
and tearing the earth with his horns. The old bull did the same; and
when they came together the dust rose in a cloud. They fought so hard
that we could hear them panting and grunting. Then the dust thinned in
the wind and we saw one rise into the air and the other horn him coming
down. Again the grandfather wiped his horns on the grass and went back
to lick the cow. The other one was trying to get up, but he would
always fall down again, and his belly was all torn open.

“Then the third young bull did as the others had done, and there was
a longer fight in the dust and more panting and grunting. It ended
the same as before, with the young bull staggering away dragging his
insides. But we could see that the old grandfather was bleeding hard
and wobbling. This time he just stood there and did not go back to the
cow. High Horse and I were sorry, because we were on his side; and we
wanted One Horn to shoot the last young bull with his gun. But he just
laughed at us.

“Right away the fourth young bull rolled and tossed earth and bellowed,
and the two came together with a loud sound. High Horse and I yelled,
‘_hi-yay, hi-yay_,’ cheering the old one; but One Horn told us to stop;
and, anyway, maybe the young one would think we were cheering him. This
last fight was the longest of all. We could see big bodies getting
tossed in the dust, and the panting and grunting were louder than ever.
Afterwhile the cloud cleared away. The young one was trying to get up,
but, the way it looked, one of his shoulders was ripped nearly off and
he was open underneath. The old one was still on his legs, bleeding
hard from his nose and his belly, and we could see it was hard for him
to steady himself. Then he staggered back to the cow without trying to
wipe off his horns first. He just stood there trying to steady himself
and bleeding hard.

“And what do you think the cow did? She went over to the last young
bull that was trying to get up, and nudged him and pushed him, trying
to help. She was right under us, and One Horn shot her with the gun he
got at Red Cloud’s agency.

“When we went down there, the five bulls were dead, and they were all
so torn up and full of holes that we could not use their hides for
boats. Also, the old men said we should not eat any of their meat,
because they had murdered each other. But the young cow was fat and
tender; and when we had killed and skinned enough bison for the boats,
we had a big feast.”




X

_The Boys Who Had Sister Trouble_


When I had returned from the woodpile and fed the stove, Eagle Voice
continued eagerly:

“There is no meat like that any more, and I can taste it now. It is
hard to chew the meat they have these days; but sometimes I get a
tender piece from a calf, and it always makes me think of a story I
heard for the first time while we were eating that cow. Also, whenever
I think of the story, it makes me hungry like a boy, although it is not
about eating.

“We feasted and listened to stories most of the night, while the
horse-guards took turns. Sometimes I would fall asleep, being stuffed
with meat, then I would be wide awake again and everybody would be
laughing at some funny tale, or saying, ‘_how! how!_’ around the
circle, cheering a good story just ended. Then I would eat some more,
and listen to the next one.

“Charger told this one, and I can see him yet, although he fed the
wolves somewhere, I do not know how many snows ago. I thought he was an
old man then, but now I think that he was almost young. He was always
joking, but I cannot remember him laughing, for he had a face that
made him look always sorry and surprised. He could never tell a story
sitting down, because he could not tell it all with his mouth. He told
it mostly with his face and his hands and his whole body; so he had to
tell it on his feet, and if you did not see the story he was telling,
you could not hear it all. Sometimes when he got a tale started he
would go right on telling it without a word for a while, and everybody
would look and look and not move. There was one about a wild young
fellow who played ghost, and people would coax him to tell it again,
although they knew it as well as he did. They wanted to see him telling
it with looks and motions.

“This wild young fellow liked tobacco very much and he never had enough
of it. He was always wondering how he could get some more. So one day
he was traveling with his father and his mother, his grandfather and
his grandmother. They had been away somewhere and they were going back
to camp. There was some fresh meat on the pony-drag so that they could
eat on the way, and with the meat there was a fresh cow’s bladder
packed full of _wasna_, made of meat and tallow and buffalo berries
pounded up together.

“They were all traveling along on their horses with the pony-drag; and
they got to talking about tobacco. Maybe the wild young man started
it. There was none at all in their _iglaka_ [a family outfit on the
move]--only red willow bark; and when they camped that night there
would be nothing to mix with it for a good smoke.

“When the sun was getting low they saw an _iglaka_ coming towards them.
It was an old man and an old woman, and they were mourning. So when
the two _iglakas_ met they stopped to talk awhile and tell each other
what they had heard. Then the grandfather of the first _iglaka_ asked
the old man of the second _iglaka_ for some tobacco. And the second old
man said he had not any; but his son was lying dead in a tepee back
there, and in the tepee was an offering of five plugs of tobacco. These
old people had stayed all night with their dead son and now they had
started to wander and mourn. The old woman was crying all the time they
were talking. And the old man said: ‘He was a very generous son, and
now he is dead back there. I think if you ask him for one of the plugs
he will let you have it. He always liked to give to old people.’ When
he said this, they both wept hard.

“While the old people were all feeling bad together, the wild young man
had a big thought, and what he thought, he did. First he sneaked the
fresh cow’s bladder from the drag and hid it under his blanket. Then he
remembered something he had lost back on the trail, and told the old
people he would have to ride back and find it.

“So that is what he did; only he did not ride back very far. He dodged
into a side draw and came around some hills until he was far ahead of
his people; and there was the tepee with the dead man in it.

“He did not go in there right away, because that was not the way it was
in his big thought. He went down to the creek and tied his horse in the
brush. Then he stripped naked and covered himself all over with mud,
and made streaks in the mud with his finger. After that he painted his
face with the mud to make it look terrible. Last of all, he emptied
out the fresh cow’s bladder and pulled it over his hair and his head
and his ears, right down to his eyes. He almost scared himself when he
looked into the water.

“By now the sun was going down, and he went into the tepee where the
dead man was lying all dressed up with five big plugs of tobacco
beside him. The wild young man wanted to smoke right away; but he knew
if he did that, the old people would come and he would not get all the
tobacco for himself. So he hid under his blanket over against the tepee
wall and waited.

“Afterwhile when the day was just getting half-dark, he could hear the
four old people coming. Then he heard his grandfather say: ‘Soon our
grandson will be coming back, and while we are waiting we may as well
make an offering and get the tobacco.’ So they came into the tepee and
sat down at the feet of the dead young man. The grandfather then filled
his pipe with red willow bark and made an offering to the spirit.
‘Young man,’ he said, ‘whoever you are and wherever your spirit is now,
here is an offering. We ask the favor of you that no harm shall come to
us for taking your tobacco. We will always remember you when our days
are ripe.’

“Just then the wild young man put his head out from under the blanket
and yelled: ‘_How!_’

“When Charger got to this place he always quit talking awhile; but you
could see the story going on. You could see how terrible the ghost
looked, the way grandmother waddled as she ran, the way grandfather
hopped with a lame leg, how mother covered her head with her blanket,
running and falling, getting up and running some more. And you could
see the father away out ahead going like a man in a foot race with his
braids standing flat out behind his head because he was getting out
of there so fast. You could see grandmother look back at the ghost
and faint because it was so terrible. Then grandfather looked and
fainted. Then mother looked and fainted. And then there was a big foot
race between father and the ghost. You could watch Charger and see
it--father puffing and grunting with his eyes almost popping out of his
head, the ghost puffing and grunting and looking terrible. By the time
the ghost caught up and father fainted, everybody was laughing so hard
that Charger would have to wait before he could finish his story. And
it was not easy to quit laughing, because Charger kept on looking so
sorry and surprised, as though he thought it wasn’t funny to be chased
by a ghost like that.

“Then the wild young man went back to the creek and washed himself all
clean, and threw the cow’s bladder away. And when he was dressed, he
got on his horse and rode around so that he could come galloping from
where he said he had lost something and had to go back for it.

“So he did that, and when he came to where the four old people were
huddled together waiting for him, he heard all about it, and he was so
brave that his father and mother and his grandfather and grandmother
were very proud of him. He said: ‘I will go and get that tobacco, and
if the ghost tries to chase me I will fight him.’ They begged him not
to do that because the ghost was so terrible. But he said: ‘Make a fire
here and I will get the tobacco and bring the drag and the ponies so
that we can eat and smoke. Maybe that ghost can chase old people; but
if he tries to chase me, there is going to be a dead ghost around here.’

“They tried to hold him, but he went anyway; and afterwhile he came
back with the tobacco and the horses and the drag. Then grandmother
said: ‘We are safe now, for I think the ghost is afraid of our brave
young grandson.’ But when they had eaten, the old people would not even
touch the tobacco.

“So the wild young man had enough for once.”

Eagle Voice chuckled for a while, enjoying the boyhood memory; and
then--

“Charger could tell sad stories too,” he said. “And when he told one,
the people would be looking down their noses, feeling very bad. And he
could tell the kind of stories that made a boy feel cold on the back
of his neck and keep looking behind in the dark, because something
that was not there, was there anyway, and it might grab you all at
once.--Like the one about the evil _wakon_ who got his power from
eating dead peoples’ tongues. In the night he would sprout great wings
like a giant buzzard’s; and when somebody was sick and about to die,
the people would hear him flapping, flapping, flapping, with a queer
whisking sound above the tepee in the dark. Maybe somebody coming back
late in the night would pass a new scaffold, and that man-buzzard would
be sitting up there in the moonlight, and maybe the moon would be old
and broken and just about to go down. Then the man-buzzard would lift
slowly and fly away, and you could see him cross the moon and hear him
going--flap, flap, flap, with a queer whistling sound. In the morning
when relatives went to look, there would be another tongue missing!
It took a long while to tell that story, because it took the people a
long while to find out who was the evil _wakon_. They had to try this
and try that and look here and look there. And when they did find out,
everybody was surprised and you could hardly believe it.

“But the story that always makes me hungry is the one Charger told that
night about the Two Boys Who Had Sister-Trouble. I want to tell it
because what I eat these days does not do me much good, and I want to
be hungry like a boy again.

“So this is the way it was with the two boys who had sister-trouble.

“A long while ago before the hoop was broken and the people still
were good, there was a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and
something bad would happen if you did the wrong way. I have told you
how a man could not speak to his daughter-in-law and she could not
speak to him, even when they lived in the same tepee. If they had to
say something to each other, they said it to the son’s mother and she
said it to the other one. Neither could the two eat together. It was
the same way with a brother and sister when they were no longer little
children. They respected each other so much that if they had to say
something to each other they would say it to their mother and she would
tell it. These ways were good for the people, but now there is nothing
good at all. In those days a young man wanted his sisters to be proud
of him, and they might make beaded clothing for him to show how proud
they were, but they would be so ashamed to say it to him that they
would rather die.

“Now there was a young Shyela [Cheyenne] and his name was Thunder
Sounds. His father was a chief and people looked up to him. Also the
family had many ponies and a fine tepee. Thunder Sounds was a very
good-looking young man and his clothes were fine because his mother
and his sisters thought so much of him. He wore a shield of otter skin
across his breast. His quiver was full of arrows and covered with
porcupine quills; and even his blanket was beautifully quilled. Also
he had two fine spotted ponies that looked just alike. But I think he
was prouder of his two older sisters than he was of the ponies, because
they were very good to see and already they could do any woman’s work a
little better than any of the other girls could.

“This happened in the spring when the people were moving camp, and
Thunder Sounds, not being a man yet, did something just for fun that
would bother his sisters at their work. They were so bothered that they
forgot all about the right way to do, and scolded him. And that was how
it began.

“When the camp moved, Thunder Sounds did not go along. He stayed right
there, sitting on the ground in his fine clothes with his head hanging
and his two spotted ponies looking at him with their heads hanging
too; for it made them sad to feel how sad he was. It was morning when
the camp moved, and when the sun was getting low, he still sat there
thinking and thinking about his sisters and about death. Not only had
they spoken to him and thus shown they did not respect him; they had
even scolded him the way you scold a dog for stealing your meat. He
knew that he just could not live any more; but how could he find death?

“About that time a young man came back from the camp and stood beside
Thunder Sounds and said: ‘Your sisters have sent me. They are sorry and
they are crying for you to come back. Also they are cooking some tender
meat just for you.’ But Thunder Sounds did not lift his head and the
ponies did not lift their heads either, and the young man heard nothing
but his own words. So afterwhile he got tired standing there, and went
away. And the sun went down and there were stars and it was still.

“Then Thunder Sounds stood up and began singing a death-song there in
the big empty night, and the ponies neighed shrill. When he had sung,
he mounted and the other pony followed and the three went away in the
still starlight, looking for death.

“As he rode, Thunder Sounds thought: Surely tomorrow or the next day or
the next I shall meet an enemy who will kill me, and then all the shame
will be gone. All night long he rode, and when the morning star looked
out across the world where it was no longer night nor yet quite day,
and he could hardly keep the saddle any more, and the ponies stumbled
with weariness, he lay down on the prairie, thinking: Maybe an enemy
will find me while I sleep and the sun will never see my shame again.

“But when he awoke, the sun was high and staring hard at him; so he got
upon a pony and rode away, and the other pony followed. And as he rode
he lifted up his voice and sang a death-song. Some wrinkled old hills
mocked him, and a flock of crows jeered, fleeing from his shame.

“Now the sun was getting low again, and as Thunder Sounds rode, there
grew a gnawing in his belly even sharper than the shame that gnawed
his breast; and he said to himself: Am I a sick old woman to die by
starving? It is no way for a brave man to meet death. I will eat and
be strong to meet death like a man. So he found a water hole and let
the ponies drink. Then he hobbled them and left them where the grass
was deep along the slough. And having done these things, he hid with
his bow and arrows near the water hole and waited, with that gnawing
getting sharper in his belly. It was not long before some fat deer
came there to drink in the cool evening. So that night he feasted long
beside his lonely fire; but when the gnawing in his belly had grown
dull and ceased, the gnawing in his breast grew sharp again for all the
heaviness of sleep that was upon him, and he thought: This meat and a
good sleep will make me strong to die tomorrow like a man. And he slept.

“Then all at once the sun was staring hard at him again and the hobbled
ponies were looking down at him and nickering. So Thunder Sounds filled
his belly again against the gnawing, and, having done so, he said to
himself: Here is much good meat left. I cannot be always stopping to
hunt food when I am looking for death; and if I do not eat, how can I
be strong to die like a man? So he made a drying rack from bushes that
grew along the slough, and stripped the meat and hung it on the rack to
dry in the hot sun. It was the third evening at that camp before the
meat was light and dry and he could start again in search of death.

“Now it happened the next evening that Thunder Sounds came to a deep
narrow valley where trees grew and a little stream flowed among the
trees and the grass was deep and green beside the running water. There
was growling, jolting thunder just beyond the valley, and yonder clouds
were piling up above the treetops, and surely there was going to be
much rain. So Thunder Sounds thought: I have no tepee; it is nearly
night already, and the rain will be cold. It is no way for a brave man
to get sick and shiver until he dies. Maybe there is a cave to shelter
me so that I may be strong to die like a man when I meet an enemy.

“And so there was a cave but not just one. There were many caves, one
above the other up the steep side of the valley. The thin flat stone
top of one was the flat stone floor of the next one higher up. So
Thunder Sounds hobbled the ponies and left them where the grass was
deep and green. Then he took his bundle of _papa_ [dried meat] and
crawled into one of these caves a little way up the steep side of the
valley where he would not be far from his ponies.

“Thunder roared, lightning flashed, the wind howled, the rain came down
like a river; but Thunder Sounds was dry and warm, and being weary and
full of dried meat, he slept a dead sleep.

“When he awoke, the storm was gone, the night was still and there
were stars out yonder above the dark treetops. He held his breath and
listened. There was a sound just beneath him--a low regular sound like
breathing; then it was louder like the snoring of a heavy sleeper;
then it changed into snorts for a while, and again it was like steady
breathing.

“Thunder Sounds lay there awhile wondering if it might be a bear there
below him; but while he wondered, the breather snorted again and began
muttering queer words. And although the words had no meaning at all,
he knew that no bear could have said them. And he thought: It is no
bear, but a man. So he reached down into the cave below; and hardly
had he done this when a hand seized his and held it with a strong
grip. There was no sound of breathing now, and it seemed a long while
before anything happened. Then the grip loosened, and he could feel the
man’s fingers making sign talk upon his: ‘Who are you?’ Then Thunder
Sounds made the signs for Shyela, and asked in the same way: ‘Who are
you?’ And the other, with a rubbing of finger across finger, like two
trees scraping each other in a wind, made answer; and Thunder Sounds
thought: This is a Chickasaw and maybe the enemy I have been looking
for. But as he thought this, the other made a sign that seemed to mean,
‘let us sleep.’ Then the hand went limp and dropped away, and the deep
breathing began again.

“Right away after that, it seemed to Thunder Sounds, the sun leaped up
above the trees and stared hard upon his face, for he had fallen into a
heavy sleep. His first thought was of the enemy there beneath him. So
he sprang out of his cave, and at the same time the other sprang out of
his cave, and there the two stood silent for a while just looking at
each other so surprised they hardly breathed at all.

“Surely they were very handsome young men, and they looked so much
alike that they could have been twins. Each wore an otter skin shield
upon his breast. Their quivers were beautiful with porcupine quills and
full of arrows, and the blanket that each held with one hand about his
waist was very finely quilled. Only the sun saw them, but if anyone
else had been looking he would have said: ‘These handsome young men
have fathers the people praise, and their mothers and sisters love them
very much.’

“After they had looked hard into each other’s eyes for a while, the
Chickasaw began sign-talking and the other answered, sign-talking, and
I will tell you in words what passed between them. The stranger said:
‘If you are a Shyela, where are you going and what are you looking
for?’ And Thunder Sounds said: ‘I am riding far looking for death. If
you are a Chickasaw, where are you going and what are you looking for?’
And the other answered: ‘I am looking for the same thing! Why do you
want to die?’ And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘I have two older sisters
more beautiful than all other girls in the world and they have scolded
me, so I cannot live any more.’ The Chickasaw looked hard at Thunder
Sounds for a while with his mouth wide open and no sound or breath in
it, he was so surprised. Then he said, sign-talking: ‘You lie, Shyela!
They are not more beautiful than my two older sisters who have scolded
me too, and that is why I am riding far looking for death.’

“Now Thunder Sounds sprang back from the other, sign-talking fast: ‘You
are looking for death. I am looking for death. It is right here!’ He
dropped his blanket and grasped his knife and crouched, ready to spring
upon his enemy; and as he did so the Chickasaw did the same thing.
But each seemed waiting for the other, and when they had looked hard
at each other for a long while, Thunder Sounds dropped his knife and
sign-talked again: ‘It is still early and we have not eaten. I have
much meat. Let us eat first, and we shall be the stronger to kill each
other.’ Then the Chickasaw also dropped his knife and sign-talked back:
‘It is well. Let us eat first.’

“So the two sat down with the dried meat between them, like two
brothers who are twins, and when the meat was all gone, the Chickasaw
said: ‘I will go to the creek for a drink, then I will give you what
you are looking for.’ And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘I too will drink
before I give you what you want.’ So, side by side, they went to the
creek and, side by side, they stooped and drank, and as they did so,
Thunder Sounds’ two spotted ponies came stumbling close and nickered;
and the Chickasaw’s two piebald ponies, that were just alike, came
stumbling close and nickered. And when the two young men stood up full
of sweet, cool water and drew long breaths, they looked at each other
again; and all at once the Chickasaw grinned, maybe because his belly
felt so good. And when Thunder Sounds saw the grin, he grinned also,
for was his belly not as full as the other’s?

“When the two had walked back to where they had left their knives
on the ground, each stood waiting for the other to pick his up.
But neither would stoop first. So afterwhile the Chickasaw said,
sign-talking: ‘Let us play the hand-game before we die. If you win all
I have, you will kill me. If I win all you have, I will kill you.’ And
Thunder Sounds replied: ‘Let us play the hand-game.’ So they did.

“First they cut two small sticks that could be held in a closed hand,
one with the bark left on and the other peeled. Then they cut twelve
larger sticks for each, to be used as counters. And when this was done,
the Chickasaw said: ‘My ponies against your ponies.’ And the game
began. First the Chickasaw sang, ‘_Hi-yay, hi-yay--hi-ee-hi-yay_,’
while Thunder Sounds swung his hands about him in time with the song,
changing the little sticks from one hand to the other as he did so.
When the singing stopped suddenly, the swinging stopped too, and
Thunder Sounds held his closed fists up in front of him that the other
might guess which held the unpeeled stick. The guess was wrong, and
so the Shyela had thirteen counters. The game went on, the Chickasaw
singing and Thunder Sounds swinging. Sometimes one had nearly all the
counters, then the other had nearly all the counters; but afterwhile
the Chickasaw had them all, and the ponies were his.

“Then Thunder Sounds said in sign-talk: ‘My otter shield, my blanket,
my breech clout, my leggings, my moccasins, my bow and arrows,
everything but my knife, against yours.’ So they each stripped and
placed these things in a pile. Then Thunder Sounds began singing, the
Chickasaw began swinging, and after each had nearly won many times,
Thunder Sounds, at last, had all the counters and the Chickasaw had
no clothes and no bow and arrows--only the four ponies, his knife and
his gleaming long hair. And the Chickasaw, being angry, said: ‘My hair
against your hair.’ And he took the sticks, swinging while the other
sang. It took a long while, but this time Thunder Sounds lost. Then
the Chickasaw gave a war whoop, and, seizing one of the counters for
a coup-stick, he struck his enemy, crying, ‘_An-ho_.’ And when he had
counted coup, he cut off the gleaming long hair of Thunder Sounds close
up to the scalp and danced a few steps of the victory dance.

“This made the Shyela angry, and he said: ‘All that I have but my knife
against your hair.’ And after much singing and swinging and guessing,
Thunder Sounds had all the counters. Then with a war whoop he seized a
counter for a coup-stick and struck the other, crying, ‘_an-ho_.’ And
having counted coup on his enemy, he cut off the long gleaming hair
of the Chickasaw close up to the scalp and danced a few steps of the
victory dance.

“When this was done, each stepped back to where his knife was lying on
the ground; but neither stooped. And as they stood there looking at
each other, the Chickasaw began to grin again--a grin that broadened
until his whole face was puckered. Seeing this, the Shyela also began
to grin--a grin that broadened until it touched his eyes and set
them dancing. And seeing this, the Chickasaw snickered. Then Thunder
Sounds snickered; and all at once both began to laugh so loud that the
steeps along the narrow valley roared with mirth, and the four ponies
yonder in the deep green grass lifted up their voices all together in
screaming laughter. If there had been anyone there to see, he might
have said: ‘These young men are dying of the bellyache the way they
hold their bellies and howl. Naked and hairless!--_ho ho ho, ha ha ha,
he he he hi-ya-hi-o!_’ They looked so funny to each other, that it was
a long while before they could stop laughing; and when they stopped at
last, they were standing with their arms about each other to keep from
falling down, for the very weakness of mirth. With the tears running
down their faces, they were like twins long parted who had found each
other again--but the tears were tears of laughter.

“And after a while, they staggered apart, and the Chickasaw said,
sign-talking: ‘You are too funny to kill.’ Then he held his belly again
and howled, and Thunder Sounds sign-talked, saying: ‘You are as funny
as I am.’ Then he held his belly and howled awhile.

“And when the laughing-fit was over, the Chickasaw said: ‘Let us not
kill each other at all. We will be brother-friends. I will give you all
that was mine along with my hair. You will give me all that was yours
along with your hair. Then we will both go home and tell our people to
meet here when two moons have come and gone and the next new moon is
low above the sunset. There shall be a big feast and our people shall
be as one people forever.’

“And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘It is good; let it be as you say, my
brother.’

“So when they had held each other close for a while, each dressed in
the other’s clothes, and with the other’s hair and weapons rode away
towards his home, the Chickasaw upon a spotted pony exactly like the
one that followed, and Thunder Sounds upon a fine piebald pony followed
by its twin.

“The narrow valley, where the grass was deep and green beside the
running water and the trees made pleasant shade, lay waiting there
until two moons had grown and died above it. And when the thin third
moon hung low above the sunset, the place was filled with happy voices.
On one side of the sweet running water the Chickasaws had pitched their
tepees, and on the other side, Shyelas; and their ponies knew each
other, feasting together, muzzle deep, as the peoples feasted. And the
steep sides of the valley laughed and sang. And because all hearts
were strong with kindness, there was a big giving-away until no one
had anything left at all that had been his or hers; but everyone had
plenty. Even the little children gave their playthings to each other.
Men who had been strangers gave themselves and were brother-friends.
And their sisters became sisters, and the father of each became the
other’s uncle, and the mother of one the other’s aunt. From that day to
this no Shyela has ever harmed a Chickasaw, no Chickasaw a Shyela.

“And this was all because two boys had trouble with their sisters!”




XI

_Helping a Brother-Friend_


When I arrived next morning, the fifing of wagon tires in the subzero
hush of the creek bottom yonder proclaimed a family fuel shortage
belatedly acknowledged. Not only was the son-in-law up and doing with
the blanketed sun; but the old man himself, bent to the horizontal from
the hips, his thin hair whiter than the snow, his sharp face frosted
with his breath, plied an ax among the gnarled remainders of the
woodpile.

“_Lela oosni!_” he remarked, smiling brightly up at me and panting.
“You see I can get my own wood.” Yielding the ax to me with some
reluctance, he shuffled towards the tepee, apparently unaware of the
ragged moccasins that gave no protection to his heels and toes against
the searing snow.

When the fire was going merrily and the tepee was snug with heat, I
said: “Grandfather, I have brought you a present.” With something
boyish shining in his face, he made a high prolonged nasal sound of
pleasure and surprise as he watched me unwrap the sheepskin slippers I
had brought him; and when he held them in his hands, he giggled like
a youngster. The business of getting the slippers on the old man’s
feet became something like a catch-as-catch-can wrestling match, for
in choosing the size, I had not allowed for the cozy fur inside. He
lay in his bed chuckling while I held a long skinny leg under my arm
and wrestled with the foot. When the business was finished, he sat up,
placed an arm about my shoulder, and pulled me close. Then, as though
he were making an announcement to the universe in general, he said:
“This is my grandson! _Dho!_ This is my grandson!”

When we had smoked awhile in silence, I asked: “And did the story of
the two boys make you hungry?”

“_Dho_,” he said, regarding me with the crinkled, quizzical look; “but
the meat is not the same. It has no strength in it.” He meditated
awhile, gazing at the ground. Then his face brightened. “That was the
time when High Horse and I killed our first bison bull,” he began,
catching up the loose thread of yesterday’s narrative; “Also a young
cow--fat--tender--strong meat to make a man of a boy. Thirteen winters
made a man those days. It must have been the meat.

“We had plenty of bull-hides to make the _watah_ [boats] we needed
for crossing Mini Shoshay [the Missouri]. Also there were willows in
plenty for making the frames. We tied these together with green rawhide
thongs, and over the frames we stretched the green bull-skins tight,
sewing them with strips of hide. Then we hung them up to dry in the
wind and sun; and while they dried and shrank tight we rested and
feasted three more days. _Washtay!_ Good boats! Kick them--they sound
like big drums! Float high in the water! _Washtay!_

“We put all our belongings in the boats and most of us swam, pulling
them with rawhide thongs that we held in our teeth. The ponies did not
give us any trouble after we got the first ones into the water; and
some of us swam with our horses, so that we could catch the others when
we got across.

“Our scouts had gone out while we were making boats, and they came back
to our first camp beyond Mini Shoshay. They had been watching a big war
party of Flatheads, Nez Percé and Absoraka [Crows] not far away, and
they said we must attack as soon as we could that day and not wait for
night, because the bands had not yet made camp together and were still
coming up. If we waited, there would be too many for us. This was in
the morning, and the sun was about straight up when we made the attack.
There was a big butte close by, something like Bear Butte near Pa Sapa
[the Black Hills], and we sneaked around that until we were close
enough to charge. I think they did not know we were in the country,
and it was a big surprise. Women were putting up tepees, children were
playing anywhere, and the men were scattered around, not thinking of
trouble because it was the middle of the day, and the ponies were
grazing without guards. It was not much. There was no fight. We did not
kill one man or count a coup. We just charged in there, waving blankets
and yelling, and it was funny to see the people running here and
running there all mixed up. The ponies had not had time to scatter far,
and right away we got about a hundred started south on the run. When
we reached the top of a ridge and looked back, we could see that we’d
better hurry, because the warriors of the bands that were still coming
in to camp back there were after us, and there were many.

“The sun was halfway down when we came into some hills with trees on
them here and there. So we stopped to let the ponies rest; and if the
enemy wanted to come and fight, we would fight right there with the
trees and gullies to help us. They did come, but it was not much. Maybe
they thought we had a big party waiting for us there and we meant to
trap them. It was hard to see us among the brush and gullies, and they
did not charge; but now and then they would see somebody and shoot, and
we would shoot back. It was lazy war, and I guess they were tired too.

“High Horse and I were up in a tree with old Maza Ska [White Metal],
or anyway he seemed old to us. He had a gun, but we had only bows and
arrows. Sometimes we could see an enemy’s head and we would shoot at
it. White Metal would make fun of our shooting, but I think he did not
hit anybody either. He only made the others know where we were, so that
they could shoot back; but nobody got hurt.

“Afterwhile I could feel my belly gnawing, and over beyond a low ridge
I had seen some stray bison cows. So I said to High Horse: ‘Let us go
over there and kill some meat, for there are no enemies that way.’ Our
three ponies were tied to some brush under the tree. White Metal’s was
a mare with a big colt at her side, and that is what I want to tell
you about. When we got on our ponies we had to ride fast and swing low
under their necks, because several of the enemy began shooting at us.
We could hear old White Metal bang away up there. Even if he did make
fun of us, we knew he liked us and wanted to help by keeping the enemy
down. When we got over just under the low ridge, we stopped, and High
Horse said: ‘Let us smoke before we kill a cow; it may help us.’ I had
brought my pipe with me because it would protect me and give me power.
So we sat down and smoked. When we had passed the pipe awhile, all at
once there was big yelling over there beyond the low ridge, and we got
up to see if the enemies were coming; and this is what we saw.

“Old White Metal’s big colt was bucking and squealing and running
in circles there on the open hillside, and White Metal was riding
belly-down on its back; but he was not riding the way the colt was
going. He was riding backwards, holding on with his legs, and with
both hands around the root of the tail. His mouth was close to where
the colt was breaking wind every time it bucked, and with every jolt
White Metal yelled, ‘_hown hown_.’ It seemed that he was arguing with
whatever the colt was saying under its tail. We could hear yelling and
laughing down in the brushy draw where enemies were standing up waving
their arms and cheering White Metal. Our own people were standing up
too, laughing and cheering: ‘_Hi-ya! hoka-hey!_ Hold him, _Kola!_ Bite
his bottom! Don’t eat it all! Give me a piece! _Hoka-hey!_’

“It was not much like war.

“This is what had happened. When High Horse and I were over the ridge,
White Metal thought: I will go and help the boys kill some meat, for I
too am hungry. But when he started to climb down out of the tree, some
enemies shot at him--bang! bang! bang!--and he was so excited that he
let go and tumbled. The loose colt was right under him ready to go, and
so they went together in opposite directions.

“When White Metal was right in front of us, the colt stopped short,
went straight up in the air, hump-backed, and whirled as it came down
stiff-legged. That was the end of the ride, and the colt made off for
its mother, still bucking and squealing. White Metal came limping up to
High Horse and me, and when he had wiped the blood and dust from his
mouth, he began poking us in the ribs, saying: ‘That’s right! Laugh!
Laugh! It’s funny! Don’t be serious! Why don’t you laugh?’ And we did
not quit laughing, for the rib-tickling and the fun of it, until the
enemies began shooting at us again from the brush down there.

“We did get a fat cow before the sun went down, and late in the night
we started for Mini Shoshay with the ponies. When the morning star was
up and day was just beginning, we came to a small round valley with
steep sides and only one easy way to get in. So we drove the herd in
there, and Crazy Horse told us all to get a good sleep. He would watch
at the opening to the valley, and if the enemy came he would waken us
and we would stay right there and fight, no matter how many there might
be. But no enemy came; and when it was dark we started again for the
river where we had left our boats hanging in some brush.

“There was no victory dance when we got home, because we had no scalps
and had not counted coup. Nobody said much about our war party. We lost
about half the captured ponies on the way back; and that was not enough
for thirty-seven warriors to sing about. High Horse and I each got a
pony--not very young ones.

“No, it was not much, but we boys had a good time, and we learned.
After that we could not talk about anything but going to war. We did go
to war after High Horse went crazy.”

“Did he really go crazy?” I asked.

“It is a story,” the old man answered, chuckling; “and I will tell you
how it was with him, and why we made war against the Crows that time.

“I was often at the Miniconjou village with my brother-friend, and
sometimes I would see Tashina Wanblee over there. She was getting to
be a big girl, and she was very pretty. I could see that she still
liked me and that she wanted me to talk to her; but High Horse and I
were going to be great warriors and we did not want to be bothered
with girls. Once I came upon her down by the creek when she was getting
water for her mother. She looked up at me quickly, and I can see her
eyes yet; but I was older before I knew what I saw there. It was not
the way it used to be when I was her horse. I thought I had scared her
because she did not know I was there. When she had looked that way at
me, she would not look any more. She just stood still with her hands
clasped in front of her and her head bent. I talked to her, but she did
not answer. Only once she said, hardly louder than a whisper: ‘_Shonka
’kan, Shonka ’kan_.’

“I knew she was pretty, with her long hair combed smooth and shining
like a blackbird, and I think she was waiting for me to throw my
blanket over us and whisper to her in the dark. But my head was full
of horse-stealing and war and the great deeds High Horse and I were
going to do before very long; and it was such things that I told her,
bragging like the boy I was, for I think I wanted her to be proud of me.

“There was a band of Shyelas [Cheyennes] camped up the
creek that time. High Horse and I would go up there to play
throwing-them-off-their-horses or maybe hoop-and-spear with the boys
our age; for the Shyelas were friends and almost like our own people
come to visit us.

“One day when we were up there having a good time, I noticed that High
Horse was not with us any more, and I wondered if he had gone home. So
afterwhile I rode off down the creek towards the Miniconjou village.
There was some brush around a spring, and High Horse was in there. He
was talking to a Shyela girl, and he did not see me. First I thought
I would yell at him; but I did not, for all at once I felt sad and
ashamed. So I turned back and rode home another way.

“The next time I saw him, I thought he was sick because he was queer
with me, but he said he was not sick. Afterwhile he began talking
without looking at me, and he said that maybe when we were great
warriors we would have women too just like other men. Crazy Horse had
a woman, didn’t he? And all the other great warriors had too, didn’t
they? And so maybe it would be the same way with us. And I said we were
not great warriors yet, and we did not have to think about that now.
And he said, ‘I know you talk to Tashina, because I have seen you doing
it. Maybe you will have her for your woman sometime; and maybe I will
see a girl I want too.’

“Then I laughed and said I talked to Tashina because I used to be her
horse, and she wasn’t like other girls anyway. I was just telling her
about the things we were going to do. And he _yah-yahed_, making forked
fingers at me. Then I was angry, and I said: ‘You have been sneaking
around in the brush after that Shyela girl again, haven’t you?’ Then he
was angry too, and left me, and I rode home.

“All the rest of that day I was angry at High Horse; but when I awoke
in the morning, I thought of him the first thing, and I was not angry
any more at all. I was sad, and I got sadder and sadder all that day.
So I rode out on a high hill and sat there thinking about how we had
said we were twins, and we had found each other at last and we would
never be apart again, and we would be brother-friends and do great
deeds and everybody would praise us. And when I looked around at the
sky and the prairie, it was big and empty, and I was all alone in it
and nothing cared about me. So I sat there and wept a long time.

“Next day I was sadder than the day before, and I thought I would go
and see High Horse again. Maybe he was sad too and would not be angry
at me any more. So I started towards the Miniconjou village, riding
slowly because my mind was still forked; and all at once there was a
horseback coming slowly out of the brush up there. When I saw it was
High Horse, my heart drummed; but when he came close I could see that
it was bad with him. ‘_How, Kola_,’ he said; and his voice was low and
weak, as though he might be getting ready to die pretty soon. And I
said, ‘What is wrong with you, brother-friend? Are you sick in your
belly?’ And he groaned and said, ‘I am sick all over, brother-friend,
and you must help me, for if nobody helps me I think I shall die.’ Then
he groaned some more; and I said, ‘You know I will help you, for we are
twins and brother-friends, and if you die then I must die too.’

“So we got off our horses and sat together in a clump of brush where
nobody would see us, and High Horse said, ‘My brother, it is true. I
have been talking to a Shyela girl and her name is Wacin Hin Washtay
Win [Good Plume].’ When he had said that he muttered the name to
himself for a while--like singing to yourself under your breath. Then
the sickness went out of his face, and it was all shining when he
looked at me and began telling me about Good Plume and how beautiful
she was. It made me sad again to hear him, for I thought he was going
crazy the way he told it, all out of breath. Then all at once the
sickness came back in his face again, and he said, ‘Brother-friend, I
want her so much that I cannot eat and I cannot sleep, and if I do not
get her, maybe I shall just starve to death.’ ‘I will think,’ I said,
‘and we shall see what we can do.’

“Then I thought awhile. If my brother was about to die, would I not
have to go and help him even if I died too? If he was going crazy,
then would I not have to help him, even if I had to go crazy too? So I
said, ‘You must take some horses to her father and tell him how much
you want the girl. Maybe then he will give her to you.’ But High Horse
shook his head and groaned. ‘Her father is a man of many horses,’ he
said, ‘and I have only my buffalo-runner and the old horse we got from
the Nez Percés and Absorakas.’ And I said: ‘If you are not man enough
to try, how can I help you?’ ‘You will see that I am man enough to try
anything,’ he said, ‘and I will do just what you tell me,’ When he said
that, he looked like a warrior charging. Then he jumped on his horse
and galloped away towards his village.

“I waited and waited, and after that I still waited a long while. It
was getting dark when High Horse came riding back slowly with his chin
on his chest. When he had got off his horse and sat down beside me, he
just held his head in his hands for a while. Then he said, ‘The old man
laughed at me. He just laughed and waved his hand for me to go away
from there.’

“After I had thought awhile, I said, ‘Brother-friend, it is harder than
I thought. This is something that will take a little more time. You
will sleep with me tonight, and tomorrow I shall have a better plan.’

“So after we had slept, and it was morning, I said: ‘Hold fast to your
pipe, brother-friend, and do not lose courage. I have a plan. The old
man will not take two horses. You will offer him four horses, for I
will give you Whirlwind and the horse I got from the Nez Percés and
Absorakas. You will go to the old man with these. You will say how
much you want the girl and that you have two good buffalo-runners,
also a horse just beginning to get old and another one hardly old at
all. Maybe he will not laugh at you this time. If he takes the horses,
you will have the girl and we shall have only our four legs to ride.
But that will be good, for we will go on the war-path _maka mani_
[earth-walking, on foot], and when we get back we shall have many, many
ponies and be great warriors, and everybody will praise us and the old
man will be proud of you.’

“So High Horse did as I told him. But before the sun was overhead, he
came back looking even sicker than ever, and he had to groan awhile
before he could tell me how the old man laughed harder than before and
waved his hand to say go away and quit talking foolishness.

“So I thought awhile, and then I said: ‘The old man will not take four
good horses for the girl, and that is all we have. Maybe she will run
away with you, and then when you come back she will be your woman and
you will have your horses too.’ But that was no good either, because
High Horse said he asked her when they were talking under the blanket,
and she did not want to run away. She wanted to be bought like a fine
woman.

“So I thought awhile, and then I said: ‘I have the right plan at last,
brother-friend; and if you quit groaning and have a strong heart, you
will get her this time.’ And High Horse said, ‘My heart is strong
enough to do anything anybody can think up, if I can only have Good
Plume.’ Then I said: ‘The old man will not take two horses. He will not
take four horses either. The girl will not run away with you. Then you
will just steal her, and I will tell you how to do it. Maybe she wants
you to steal her anyway. This is going to be the biggest thing we ever
did.’

“So this is how it was.

“When it was dark High Horse and I rode up the creek to the Shyela
village and hid in the brush until we thought everyone was asleep.
Then I tied my horse and we sneaked up to the old man’s tepee, leading
the other horse and being very careful not to make any noise. Once
a dog barked and a man came out of a tepee and looked around in the
starlight. We were flat on our bellies by then, and when the man saw
it was only a horse grazing, he kicked the dog and went back into his
tepee.

“I would be holding the horse outside until High Horse could pull up
a couple of stakes, crawl inside, gag the girl and drag her out. Then
we would put her on the horse in front of him and he would get away
from there fast and be happy all his life. The old people might start
yelling, but everybody would be too excited to do anything, and I could
run to my horse and get away. When High Horse came back, Good Plume
would be his woman, and the old man would get used to it.

“When High Horse pulled the first stake, he waited awhile to see if the
snoring would stop inside. It did not stop, so he pulled another stake,
and still the snoring went on. Then I could see him crawling under. The
snoring still went on, and that is all I could hear for a while. Pretty
soon something popped, and the old man snorted.

“This is how it was. The old people had only this one girl, and they
liked her so much that they had made a fine bed out of rawhide thongs
for her to sleep on. Then when they saw how pretty she was getting to
be, they were afraid some foolish young man might steal her in the
night; so they always tied her with thongs to this bed.

“High Horse was in there feeling around for a good way to grab the
girl, and when he knew she was tied, he took his knife and began
cutting thongs. When the first one popped and the old man snorted, he
was so scared that he dropped on his belly and quit breathing awhile.
Then he began cutting thongs again. His heart drummed so hard that he
was afraid it would waken the girl; but she just went on breathing
quietly until he got down around her thighs. Of course he was getting
more and more excited by now, and all at once the knife slipped and
stuck the girl.”

At this point Eagle Voice fell to chuckling; and he did not resume the
tale until he had filled his pipe, lit it, and passed it to me. Then,
gazing at me with his mock-serious, crinkled, quizzical look, he shook
his head slowly and continued.

“Grandson, it was bad. It was very bad. The girl shrieked, the old
man began yelling, the old woman began screaming, and High Horse was
getting out of there so fast he nearly knocked the tepee down. By
the time we were both on the horse, people were rushing out of their
tepees shouting to each other and all the dogs were barking. It was dim
starlight, and everybody was so excited that nobody knew what anybody
was yelling about; so we got away.

“Next day High Horse was feeling sicker than ever, and even I was
feeling a little sick. But I said, ‘Brother, we nearly got her that
time, and if you are man enough and your knife does not slip, next time
we will get her, for I will think up a better plan.’ And High Horse
groaned and said, ‘Maybe they will kill me next time, but I am going to
die anyway if I don’t get Good Plume, and I am man enough to fight the
whole Shyela village if they catch me.’ ‘Then quit groaning,’ I said,
‘and have a strong heart, for I have a plan already; only we must wait
until the people up there are not excited any more.’

“So we counted ten days and waited; and while we waited we talked about
my plan. Maybe I got it from Charger’s story about the wild young man
who liked tobacco so much he could never get enough of it; but it was
different too.

“So this is the way it was. When we had counted ten days, we rode far
around the Shyela village and came to the creek above it when the sun
was low. Then High Horse stripped naked and I began painting him with
mud all over. When I was through, he was all crooked stripes and spots,
and he looked like some animal nobody ever saw. When he saw himself
in the water he said, ‘I look so terrible that I scare myself.’ And I
said, ‘You look so terrible you scare even me a little, and I made you.
If you get caught, people will think you are some bad spirit and they
will all run away; so you must not be afraid of anything; and don’t let
your knife slip this time.’

“When the night was getting old and no dogs barked, we crawled into the
Shyela village leading the horse. We did this so slowly that no dog
noticed us. There was snoring in the girl’s tepee. So High Horse pulled
a stake. The snoring went on. He pulled another stake. The snoring
still went on. Then he crawled in. Pretty soon a thong popped and I
heard the old woman say, ‘Wake up! Wake up! There is somebody in this
tepee!’ And the old man said, ‘Of course there is somebody in this
tepee. I am in this tepee. Go to sleep and don’t bother me.’ Pretty
soon there was snoring again.

“I listened hard for another pop, but there was only snoring--more than
before, like two men snoring back and forth at each other. And this is
how it was in there.

“When the old woman and old man talked, High Horse lay flat on his
belly and stopped breathing for a while. But he was very tired and very
weak because he had not slept or eaten much for a long time, he was so
sick about the girl. So all at once he was snoring as hard as the old
man was.

“I waited and waited. The morning star came up. I waited and waited.
There was a thin streak of day. I could not call to High Horse, so I
waited. The hills were beginning to stare. Then I got out of there with
the horse and hid up the creek in the brush where I had tied Whirlwind.

“Pretty soon all at once there was a big noise--screaming and yelling
and barking down there in the village. It was even worse than the other
time. Then I could hear somebody running hard, and it was High Horse,
coming like an antelope. He was coming up the creek towards me, and he
surely looked terrible in the daylight. All at once he dodged into a
big hollow tree by the creek, and I could not go to him or call to him
because I could hear people coming. It was a party of men with axes and
knives and spears and guns. They were looking here and looking there
and being very careful because of the terrible thing they had seen
running. They stopped close to the hollow tree, and when they could
not see any tracks, one said, ‘It was a bad spirit that has gone back
into the water.’ Then they went away, for I think they were glad not to
catch what they had chased.

“This is how it happened in the tepee. When the day began to come in
through the flap, the girl awoke and looked around. The first thing she
saw was that terrible animal sleeping there beside her bed. And that
was when the big noise began and High Horse started running.

“I was lying there in the brush now listening, and afterwhile the big
noise stopped and I could hear tepee poles coming down. The people were
moving camp because of the bad spirit in that place; and when I had
waited some more, there was no sound to hear at all, and I knew the
people were all gone. So I went to High Horse; and when he came out
of his tree he looked so sick and sad and terrible all at once that I
had to laugh. Anyway, they had not caught us, and that was good. But
High Horse did not laugh any; he just groaned. So I quit laughing,
and said, ‘Have a strong heart, brother-friend, and when I have washed
the mud off, I will think up a better plan.’ So we went into the water
and I washed him. And when he was dressed, he said, ‘I know now I
can never have Good Plume, so I shall have to die. I will go on the
war-path alone, and somebody will kill me.’ And I said, ‘I am your
brother-friend and you will not go to war alone, because I am going
with you. We shall see if the old man laughs when we get back with a
hundred ponies and I do not know how many scalps.’”




XII

_The Mysterious Mother-Power_


When Eagle Voice had ceased chuckling, the look of boyish merriment
left his face, and for some time he sat motionless with closed eyes
and bowed head, his hands upon his knees. He seemed very far away, as
though the drifted wastes of many winters stretched between us. When I
had fed the stove again, I said, only meaning to arouse him: “And did
you get the hundred ponies and the scalps, and did High Horse get the
girl at last?”

He lifted his head, gazing through me and beyond. Then the far look
shortened slowly, and he smiled. “It is a story, Grandson,” he said,
“and you are in a hurry again, Wasichu that you are. There is a road,
and what you ask is yonder. We are going on the war-path.”

“‘But before we go, Grandfather,’ I said, ‘tell me why Lakotas sold
their women. Wasichus sell their horses, but their women they give
away. Was a Lakota woman only an animal that a man should buy her?’

“Your heart is Lakota, Grandson,” the old man answered, smiling
indulgently as upon a child, “but you ask a foolish question like a
Wasichu. In the old days we did not buy and sell the way Wasichus do.
We stole our horses from our enemies, daring much, for we were brave
men. If we gave them to a father and asked him for his daughter, who
should have a woman but a brave man good for something?

“Before the sacred hoop was broken it was made of men and women, and
from each there was a power that kept it strong. I think, before we go
to war, I will tell you an _ohunka_ story about the power of women.
Old people used to tell it in the night; and their grandchildren after
them, grown old themselves; and their grandchildren too, and theirs,
and theirs, the story is so old. Now all of those are gone and many
more, and I will tell it, being old myself. Old people used to say that
if _ohunka_ stories were told by daylight, something bad would happen
to the teller. Maybe he would get sick and die, or his grandson would
be killed, or his old woman would fall and break her hip. And I have
even heard them say--” Here the old man paused to chuckle. “I have even
heard them say he might grow long curly hair all over his backside; but
maybe they were joking. Sometimes if somebody who wanted to hear made
a gift, an _ohunka_ story could be told on a dark day. You have made a
gift, Grandson, and the day is dark, so I can tell it; and this is the
story about the power of women.

“Many snows ago there were two young Lakota warriors. One was named
Good Voice Hawk, and he was a very good-looking fellow. The other was
called Brave Eagle, and he was not good-looking at all.

“There was a girl, too, and she was very beautiful. Also her father
was a _wichasha yatapika_ [a man they praise], because he had counted
many coups, had given much meat to the old people, and nobody could
say anything but good of him. Of such men chieftains were made. The
girl’s name was Red Hail, which is a sacred name; for hail and rain and
lightning come together with the power to make live and to destroy; and
red is a holy color.

“The people had camped in a pleasant place with plenty of wood, water,
and grass; and the councilors had announced that it was a good time for
war parties to go forth.

“Now these two young men had been talking to the girl whenever either
could find her alone, for both wanted her very much. Good Voice Hawk,
the handsome one, would talk much about himself and say little evil
things about Brave Eagle; but Brave Eagle, the homely one, would just
look at the girl for the most part, making few words and saying nothing
bad about anybody.

“A big war party was about to set forth the next day, and the two young
men would be going with it. Maybe Red Hail liked them both and could
not choose between them. Anyway, that evening when it was dark, she
stole up to the big tepee where Good Voice Hawk lived, and peeked in
through a little hole. Everything was fine in there. The young man was
sitting on his braided rawhide bed, and his mother, sitting on his left
side, was gently combing his long hair and preparing it for braiding.
On his right side sat the father, busy making new wraps on arrowheads
for his son. A younger brother was at the fireplace in the center,
keeping a bright flame alive so that there might be plenty of light.
And while Red Hail watched, the younger sister of Good Voice Hawk came
with a bowl of _wasna_ and held it in front of her handsome brother, so
that he might eat and enjoy himself before he went to war.

“Then Red Hail stole away in the darkness to a much smaller tepee where
the other young man lived, and peeped in through the side of the flap.
She saw nothing fine in there. Brave Eagle was sitting by the fire and
he was busy wrapping arrows. The mother was sitting on her side of the
tepee, the father on his, and the little brother was watching the young
warrior. That was all she saw.

“Then Red Hail stole back to her own tepee, and what she thought the
story does not tell.

“In the morning the war party started, passing the tepee of the girl,
who stood there watching. Among the first came Good Voice Hawk, and
surely he was very handsome on his fine horse that danced about as he
paused to smile at Red Hail and let her see how handsome he was. And as
he went, he often turned to look back at her again, until he passed out
of sight over a hill. Last of all came Brave Eagle riding a mule, and
he did not look at Red Hail at all, but just rode on and out of sight.
Maybe there were no mules in the old days, but stories change like
people, and this is how it came to me.

“When Red Hail’s father came back, the girl was crying, and she said,
‘Father, I want to be where the boys are. I want to go wherever they
go.’ The father knew how it was with the girl, and after he had thought
awhile he said, ‘My daughter, we will go together.’

“So when he had caught two good horses and everything was ready, they
started after the party; and when they overtook it, camp was being made
for the night.

“Now as the war party moved on, the people noticed Red Hail, because
everyone knew about the two young warriors; and there was much talk
of how Good Voice Hawk would bring her tender pieces of cooked meat
when they camped in the evenings; but Brave Eagle did not bring her
anything. Now and then the girl would ride ahead to sit upon a hill
and sing when the two young men were passing; and there were some who
said they heard a difference in the singing, and that it did not favor
homely boys who rode on mules.

“One day when the war party was getting near to enemy country, the
_blotan hunka_, who were the leaders of such parties, held council and
decided to send out two scouts. Brave Eagle and Good Voice Hawk were
chosen to go, maybe because everybody had been talking so much about
them. So after they had been told just what to do, and it was growing
dark, the two young men rode forth together, the one on his fine horse
and the other on his mule. All night they rode towards the country of
the enemy, and just as the day was beginning to break, they came to the
sloping side of a bluff, sprinkled with stunted pines.

“Maybe there were people on the other side; so they tied the mule and
the horse in a brushy place, and began crawling up the slope. It was
not very far to the top, but daybreak had brightened when they reached
it, and there below them was a village with many smokes rising, and
already the people were moving about.

“As the two scouts gazed, they heard hoofs coming, and out of the brush
not very far away a band of horses came trotting, and after them rode a
man who was driving them to a good feeding place for the day.

“Then Good Voice Hawk whispered to Brave Eagle, lying there beside him,
‘Cousin, let us kill the man and scalp him and drive the horses home.’
And Brave Eagle answered, ‘No, cousin, I think that would be wrong,
for we are only scouts. We should tell the _blotan hunka_ what we have
seen, and they will know what is best to do.’ But Good Voice Hawk would
not listen. ‘If you are afraid,’ he said, ‘of course I will do it
myself.’

“He started crawling back and then got up and ran to where the mule and
horse were tied. So what could Brave Eagle do but follow him? Should a
warrior let his comrade fight alone, even if he is wrong?

“Now when they had ridden back to the top of the slope, there not
very far away was the man with the band of horses. So Good Voice Hawk
charged upon him, crying, ‘_hoka-hey_,’ in a loud voice; and Brave
Eagle followed on his mule. The man had time to draw his bow and let an
arrow fly, but he was so excited that he missed; and just as Good Voice
Hawk came near, the man’s horse shied, and Good Voice Hawk charged by
and did not touch him.

“Then Brave Eagle, who was close behind, with one swing of his war club
struck the man from his horse; and already he had taken the scalp when
the other circled back, crying, ‘Cousin, they are coming!’

“By now it looked very bad down there in the valley, for the people
were boiling out of the village like a swarm of bumblebees, and over
them a roar of voices grew. ‘Let us get out of here!’ cried Good Voice
Hawk; and, without stopping to coup the enemy, he headed down the slope
at a run; and after him went the homely warrior pounding on his mule.

“They were not very far out in the open country when, looking back,
they saw many mounted warriors coming out of the pines back yonder, and
they were coming very fast, because their horses were fresh and strong
with plenty of grass. They were coming too fast for the mule, and it
was beginning to look bad for those who fled, when Good Voice Hawk
stopped his horse and cried out to his comrade, ‘Cousin, give me the
scalp.’ And the other, who thought only of the scalp and that it might
be taken from him, gave it to his comrade; for it was not his way to
think bad things of people.

“Then Brave Eagle was all alone, kicking his mule along; and Good Voice
Hawk grew smaller, fleeing yonder, and the sound of many hoofs behind
grew louder.

“Well, that night the handsome young warrior rode into the camp of
his people with a scalp to show and a brave story to tell. There were
many, many enemies, too many for even the whole party to fight; but it
was good to hear how Good Voice Hawk had fought until his friend was
killed. Then he had fled, and only the Great Spirit and a fast horse
had saved him.

“That night the people heard the sound of mourning in Red Hail’s
tepee--weeping and mourning far into the night; and when the sound
ceased, those who still listened thought, ‘The girl has cried herself
to sleep at last!’

“But Red Hail had not slept; and when the morning came, she was not
there. Wherever the people looked, she was not there either. She had
just vanished like a spirit in the night, and her horse was grazing
with the others near the camp.

“Now this is what had happened. While she was weeping in her tepee, Red
Hail thought more and more, ‘I must go to see where he died’; and the
thought was so big by the time her father fell off to sleep, that she
went, creeping away into the darkness so that not even the horse-guards
saw her.

“She was far away when the sun came, and when she had hidden in a clump
of brush, she prayed that she might be led to where Brave Eagle had
died; and then she fell asleep. And as she slept, a sacred power from
her praying and her sorrow came upon her, and in a dream Brave Eagle
came to her, alive as ever, and looked at her awhile the way he used
to do. But there was such a light about him that he was not homely any
more; and when she awoke, the sun was low and her heart was very strong.

“So when she had eaten of some roots and rabbit-berries that were
growing there beside a creek, she started out again and walked all
night. Again she slept and walked; and the sacred power must have led
her, for she came at last to where the hoofs of many horses made a
trail. It led her up a slope sprinkled with stunted pines, and when
she reached the top it was beginning to get dark. There just below her
in the valley was the village of the enemy, and the sound of drums and
singing came to her; for in the center of the village was a fire and
there the people danced as for a victory.

“And now the sacred power came upon Red Hail stronger than ever, and
it told her that Brave Eagle was yonder in the village waiting to be
tortured. So when the dark had come, she crawled down the bluff to a
creek that ran close to the village, and there she sat in the brush
awhile, praying that she might know what to do. And as she sat she
began to sing a little song, very low, the way mothers sing to fretful
children in the night. And while she sang, she took a piece of clay
and shaped it to the singing until it was like a little baby that she
swayed and comforted. And as she sang, the woman-power to make live and
to destroy grew stronger all around her, spreading far. And the singing
of the victors in the village slowly died away, and the drums were
still, and even the bugs in the grasses made no sound.

“Then Red Hail placed the baby in a soft bed of grass and arose and
went into the village. The fire was burning low as though it slept, and
round about it in a circle lay the dancers, sleeping soundly; and no
dog barked. The very ponies that had come from grazing in the dark to
look upon the singing people in the light stood still as stones with
noses to the ground.

“There was a tepee yonder, bigger than the others, and Red Hail’s power
led her to it. And when she raised the flap and looked inside, there
beyond the little sleeping fire in the center she saw Brave Eagle
sitting, bound with thongs and sleeping soundly with his chin upon
his breast. And, all around, the tepee guards were sitting, sleeping
soundly with their chins upon their breasts.

“Then Red Hail stepped across the sleeping fire and touched Brave
Eagle, and he awoke and looked at her the way he used to do, and the
light upon his face was the same the dream had shown her.

“‘I have come for you,’ she said, ‘and we are going home.’ And that was
the first time she had ever seen him smile. So when she had cut the
thongs that bound him, Brave Eagle killed the guards with their own war
clubs and took their scalps with their own knives.

“Then the two went about among the tepees, finding robes well tanned
and soft, and pretty dresses finely made of elkskin, and moccasins well
beaded, and parfleche panniers beautifully painted, and many other
things to make a home. And these they packed upon six of the finest
horses that slept with drooping heads till Red Hail stroked their noses
and told them to awaken.

“Then they rode away and left the village sleeping soundly; and no one
knows how long the village slept. All night they rode, Red Hail ahead,
and after her the horses with their packs, and after them, Brave Eagle
on his mule. And they were far away when daybreak came.

“Now while this was happening, the war party had grown weary of looking
for Red Hail and had gone back home. And when at last the two with
the horses and the packs came near the village of their people, they
camped behind a hill, and peering from the top of it, they saw the
people dancing yonder as for a victory.

“It was getting dark, and Brave Eagle said to Red Hail, ‘I will go to
see my father, and you will watch the horses.’ So he crawled down the
hill and came to a little tepee standing all alone outside the village.
It was made of ragged hides and it was full of mourning. And when he
raised the flap, he saw his father and his mother and his younger
brother sitting there in ragged clothes, with their hair cut off and
nothing in the tepee but their sorrow, for they had given everything
away.

“And when Brave Eagle entered, they thought he was a ghost and just
stared at him, afraid, until he spoke. And when he had told his story
and heard that the people were dancing for Good Voice Hawk, his father
said, ‘I will go to Red Hail’s father and tell him, for he is mourning
too and has given everything away. We will say nothing to anyone else
about this, and in the morning you will come with Red Hail and the
horses and the packs.’

“So Brave Eagle went back to Red Hail there behind the hill. And in the
morning when the dancing had begun again, some people saw the string of
laden horses coming yonder with a woman leading them and a warrior in
the rear. The dancing ceased and all the people stood and stared awhile
without a word, for they could not yet believe they really saw. And
around the circle of the village, left to right, rode Red Hail clothed
in soft elkskin beautifully beaded, and after her the horses followed
with their packs, and after them rode Brave Eagle clothed as when he
rode away to war.

“Then at last a great cry went up from all the people, and the horses
lifted up their heads and neighed, and there was great rejoicing. But
Good Voice Hawk had fled.

“Now when the chiefs had called Brave Eagle and Red Hail into the great
lodge and heard the story, they summoned the _akichitas_, who are the
keepers of the law and have the power of thunder beings. And the head
chief said to them, ‘Find Good Voice Hawk wherever he has fled, but do
not bring him back.’

“Then there was feasting in the village and all the people gave gifts
to those who had mourned, until they had more than plenty of all good
things.

“And when he was still young, Brave Eagle became a _wichasha yatapika_
and then a chieftain. And when the two were bent beneath the snows of
many winters, Red Hail and Brave Eagle were still happy together, for
all their daughters were like their mother and all their sons were
brave.”




XIII

_Four Against the Crows_


Dry snow whined to the footstep in the hush of the blue-cold morning,
and the tepee smoke stood straight. Before I entered I could hear the
old man blowing meditatively upon his eagle-bone whistle--like a sleepy
bird questioning the first promise of a summer dawn. “I thought you
might not come,” he said, “for it is very cold; but it is good that you
are here. We are getting closer to that story about this whistle, and I
was sitting here thinking about it, and about the quirt too.

“This would be a bad day for going to war,” he continued after we had
passed the pipe awhile; “going _maka mani_ too. I think our feet would
freeze before we found Crow horses. And scrawny horses they would
be, with pawing snow for little grass and gnawing frozen bark along
the creeks. But horses are fat where we are going, for the Moon of
Making Fat [June] is nearly full, the grass is good, and cherries are
beginning to darken; also, we are young.

“High Horse was not sick any more, because we had talked so much about
going to war that it had made him well. Also, he was either going to
feed the wolves, or have so many ponies that the girl’s father could
not laugh at him.

“Looks Twice, my father’s brother-friend, was like my father now,
for he had come to live with us and my mother was his woman. He was
very good to me, and I learned much from him. When our war party came
back from across Mini Shoshay, he gave me a good gun that loaded from
behind. He got it from somebody who brought it from Red Cloud’s camp.
High Horse’s father gave him a gun too, but it was not as good as mine.

“We did not say anything to anybody about going after Crow horses,
because the councilors had not announced that war parties could
go forth, and they might not let us go. So when we were ready, we
started with the first sunlight on our backs. Somewhere over towards
the mountains we would come upon the Crows. We had not eaten yet,
so when we were out of sight behind a hill we sat down to eat some
_papa_ so that we might be strong to walk fast and far. While we were
eating, somebody came over the hill, and it was Kicking Bear. He was
a Hunkpapa, and a small band of his people had come to visit and camp
with us. He was not very much older than we were, but he had come from
far away, and he seemed to us like a man who had counted many coups. He
said, ‘Where are you going, cousins?’ And we said, ‘We are going to get
some Crow ponies, but do not tell anybody.’ And he said, ‘You are very
brave men to do that _maka mani_, and I am going with you.’ So that was
good; and when we had eaten some _papa_, we started walking towards
Crow country. But we had not gone far when two horsebacks came, and
they were _akichitas_ bearing a pipe from the council. When they had
held the pipe out for us to touch, they said, ‘Where are you going?’
The pipe was sacred and we had to tell, so we did. And they said, ‘You
are brave young men to do that _maka mani_; but it is not the time for
war parties and you must come back. The council has spoken.’

“So we went back.

“That night High Horse and I were sitting outside the village. The moon
was bright and we were talking about what we could do next. Afterwhile
there were two people coming in the half-dark. It was Kicking Bear with
a friend called Charging Cat. And Kicking Bear said, ‘_How_, cousins!
We are going after those Crow ponies tonight, for we are men. If you
are men too, we will all go together.’ And I said, ‘You will see that
we are men too.’ And High Horse said, ‘We might as well go now, for if
we make a _wakte-agli_ [kill-come-back] with horses, there will be a
victory dance and nobody will be angry at us for going. This we will
do, or else we will feed the wolves yonder, and then nobody will be
angry either.’

“So we went, and there were four of us. When the moon was low in front
of us and the morning star shone upon our backs, above a streak of
daybreak, we were far away, for we had walked fast. There was a place
with rocks around it, and a clear creek was flowing there with grass
beside the water. And near the place was a high hill that was not quite
a mountain. It was a good place to eat what was left of the _papa_ and
to sleep awhile. But before we did this, Kicking Bear took a pipe out
of a deerskin bag. The stem was wrapped with red porcupine quills and
an eagle feather was hanging from it, and there was bison-hide on the
mouthpiece. And Kicking Bear said, ‘My Brothers, this is one of the
hardest things we are doing, and we shall need help, for we are only
men. We will go up on the high hill yonder before we rest and eat, and
there we will dedicate this pipe to Wakon Tonka and make a sacred vow.’

“So we climbed the high hill, the four of us, and when we stood
breathing on the top the day had grown and spread, and the prairie
’rose steep from beneath us to the end of the world. We stood and
looked until the sun leaped up and blazed against our eyes. Then
Kicking Bear gave me the pipe and I held it high to the place whence
comes the light of seeing; and on my left side Charging Cat was
standing and on my right stood High Horse, both with their hands
upraised palms forward; and behind us Kicking Bear was sending forth a
voice. He was asking the Great Mysterious One to behold us and the pipe
we offered and to hear the sacred vow we made. We were four young men
with strong hearts who wanted to do great deeds that our people might
praise us, and by ourselves we could do nothing. So we were dedicating
this pipe and asking that we might return as victors to our people. And
if this should be, then we four would dance the sun dance, piercing our
flesh with thongs; and this we would do for thanks. And when Kicking
Bear had finished, we all cried, ‘_hetchetu aloh!_’ Then we left the
pipe on the hilltop with the mouthpiece pointing towards the sunrise,
and went down to the place with rocks around it and a clear stream
flowing through, with grass beside the cool water. And there, with
hearts made stronger by the prayer upon the hill, we ate what was left
of the papa, and lay down in the grass to rest.

“And all at once the sun was on the other side and getting low, for
we had walked far and fast and our sleep was deep. The first thing we
saw when we looked around us was a deer drinking from the creek not
far away; and because I had the best gun, the others waited for me to
shoot while we were still lying down. I hit it just behind the front
leg, and it fell down and did not get up. By this we knew that Wakon
Tonka had beheld us on the hill and heard us, and that our offering was
received. So we made a little fire and feasted there beside the running
water; but the first piece of meat and the tenderest we each gave to
the Spirit that helped us; and our hearts were stronger than before.

“When we had eaten, we took some of the best meat and followed the last
light of day. All night we walked; and the moon traveled with us and
all the star nations, going yonder to the country of the Crows. Then
we ate and slept; and two more nights we traveled in the same way, and
Wakon Tonka sent us meat. And then when the moon was shining in our
faces and the morning star stood up behind us we lay down in some brush
to rest, for we thought by now we must be in the country of the enemy.
We slept, and when the sun found us there and blazed in upon us, we
awoke.

“There was a high hill that was almost a mountain, and on it scattered
pine trees grew to the top. And I said, ‘From the top of that high hill
yonder we can see everything. Let us go up there to look. Maybe there
will be a Crow village.’ And Kicking Bear said, ‘Cousins, that is what
we are going to do.’ And High Horse said, ‘There may be a valley full
of horses.’ And Charging Cat said, ‘We can eat what is left of the meat
up there while we are looking.’ So we went.

“When we stood breathing hard on the very top, there was a wide empty
land to the end of the world--valleys without smoke and hills with
pines upon them; and then beyond the hills of pine, the mountains. So
we made a little fire where it could not be seen and roasted what we
had left of the meat. When we were eating and talking about what we
could do next, High Horse said, ‘Look, cousins! Something is coming
down that valley. See? It is coming this way.’ We looked hard where he
pointed, and Kicking Bear said, ‘Maybe it is some deer or maybe elk
coming.’ After we had looked awhile longer, I said, ‘It is neither elk
nor deer. I think it is an _iglaka_ coming.’ And Kicking Bear said, ‘I
think it does look like an _iglaka_.’ And Charging Cat said, ‘It is
an _iglaka_, cousins; and there are some loose horses following.’ And
High Horse said, ‘Now we shall have horses to ride, and then it will be
easier to get all we want.’

“So we made a plan for attacking the _iglaka_. I would go with Charging
Cat down the left side of the hill, Kicking Bear with High Horse down
the right side. We did this because High Horse and I had guns that
loaded from behind. The _iglaka_ was coming from the right side. I
would shoot when the man in front came close to me. The others would
hear. High Horse and Kicking Bear would shoot then, and all of us would
charge, coming from in front and behind the _iglaka_.

“Then we started down the hill. When we were at the bottom, Charging
Cat and I hid behind some rocks where we could see the valley in front
of us, and afterwhile we could see the _iglaka_ coming. There was a man
in front, not young but not very old; and when I saw the horse he was
riding, I whispered to Charging Cat, ‘There is the horse I have been
looking for.’ And he said, ‘I have been looking for the same horse.’
It was gray-spotted and taller than Whirlwind, and it held its head
high and kept looking all around as it came. Back of the man on the
fine horse was an old woman riding on a pony-drag, and she was driving
the pony with a long stick. She made me think of my grandmother, and I
whispered to Charging Cat, ‘Be careful and do not shoot the old woman.’
And he said of course he would not shoot her. I thought more about this
when I was older. When the man was in front of us, he was close enough
for a good bow-shot. I put my gun on top of the rock and took a good
aim. I must have hit him in the spine, for he fell back screaming;
and while he was falling Charging Cat’s arrow stuck in his shoulder.
All at once there was shooting over there where Kicking Bear and High
Horse were--one shot, and yelling; another shot, and more yelling, and
horses squealing and the sound of hoofs. The old woman’s pony started
running away with her as we came out of the rocks yelling, ‘_hoka-hey!
hoka-hey!_’ She was bouncing and holding on tight and screaming. When
we came to the man on the ground he was not through dying yet. I let
Charging Cat count the first coup, because I had killed. When I leaned
down to take the man’s scalp he looked at me once and then died. I
think I did not see that look until I was older. There was more yelling
over to the right, and there were horses milling around in the valley,
maybe eight or ten. The old woman’s pony was running in a big circle
off yonder to our left. She was fat and she looked funny bouncing that
way, but we did not laugh. Then the drag hit something, maybe a rock,
and she rolled over and over on the ground. When she got up, she just
stood screaming and shaking her long stick at us. Then there was a
horseback coming fast from over on the right. It was a young Crow,
and we shot at him as he passed, and he shot back, but we all missed,
and he did not stop to fight. He was going over there to help the old
woman. Then High Horse and Kicking Bear came running, and High Horse
had a scalp, for there were two driving the Crow horses, and one of
them died.

“By now the Crow that rode past us was waiting over there with the old
woman behind him. He just sat on his horse and waited. And Charging
Cat said, ‘When we have caught some horses, we can go over there and
kill him.’ And I said, ‘Maybe that is his grandmother.’ And High Horse
said, ‘Maybe it is; and he is a brave man to wait for four of us.’ And
Kicking Bear said: ‘We will let him go if he does not charge us while
we are catching some horses. That is what we are going to do. If he
wants to die, he can charge us.’

“So we spread out and began trying to round up the horses. It was not
easy, because they were still frightened. They would sniff and snort
at us and then start running. But afterwhile we got three of them in
some brush up against a steep place, and Kicking Bear caught one. Most
of them had thin rawhide lariats looped around their necks for staking
out. Kicking Bear tied the lariat around the horse’s jaw and rode after
some more. When he caught one, I rode and helped him; and in a little
while we were all riding. The fine horse the older man was riding got
away. I chased him, but he ran like a high wind blowing. I think he was
the best horse I never had.

“By that time we could see the old woman was on her drag again and we
could hear her mourning. The young Crow was riding beside her pony and
leading it. We watched them going and listened until they were out of
sight around a bend in the valley. Then Kicking Bear said, ‘I think
there is a Crow village up yonder and they were going visiting with
some horses to give away.’ And I said, ‘They will have a story to tell,
and the village will be looking for us.’ And High Horse said, ‘If they
were going to visit, maybe they came from another village and that is
the one we can attack, for they will not hear the story.’ And Kicking
Bear said, ‘That is what we are going to do, cousins.’

“So we started up the back trail of the _iglaka_, and Charging Cat
said, ‘We ought to take the other horses with us.’ And High Horse said,
‘There are only four and I have so many cousins that one more horse
would not be much.’ And I said, ‘If there is a village, there will be a
herd of horses, and these here will only bother us.’ And Kicking Bear
said, ‘You are right, cousin; we will find the village and drive off
the whole herd. The Crow can have his four horses when he comes back
for the old man and the other young man yonder.’

“So we rode on up the back trail of the _iglaka_, and we were careful
when we came to a bend, for there might be a village. But there was
no village, and we rode on; and still there was no village, and the
sun was getting low. So Kicking Bear said, ‘Cousins, we must find
that village before it is dark. Eagle Voice can climb up that hill
yonder and High Horse can climb up this one here. Maybe they will see
something and they can hurry back and tell us. Charging Cat and I will
keep the horses here in the brush.’ So we did this, and when I was on
the top of my hill, there were smokes yonder below me. There were many
smokes in a circle, for the night is not warm in that country and it
was getting time to eat. On the other side of the smokes there was a
valley sloping up to a big gulch through the hills towards where the
sun comes up; and in the valley and up along the slope there were
horses, horses. My heart was drumming, and I looked all around to see
how we could get in there; and I saw another deep gulch through the
hills that stood between the valley of the village and the valley where
Kicking Bear and Charging Cat had our horses. When I saw this, I knew
again that Wakon Tonka had heard us when we made our vow and dedicated
the pipe. We could go in through that gulch and come out right between
the village and the herd. Then we could scare the horses and drive them
through the other gulch towards our home.

“I ran down the hill and told the others; for High Horse was there by
now and he had not seen anything. So we rode on up the valley until
we came to the gulch I saw, and there we waited in some brush. The
sun was under a hill and there were shadows. We waited, and it was
getting dark. We waited, and moonlight was beginning to show over the
hill ahead of us. When the moon looked over into our valley, High Horse
said, ‘Let us go in now.’ And Kicking Bear said, ‘Cousins, we must wait
until the village is asleep and the horse-guards are nodding. That
is what we are going to do.’ And I said, ‘Yes, we will do that.’ And
Charging Cat said, ‘I could eat the hump of a fat bison cow.’ And I
said, ‘The four of us could eat the cow.’ And High Horse said, ‘We can
eat tomorrow when we are far away with all those horses.’ And Kicking
Bear said, ‘We are men, and that is what we can do.’

“The moon was high, and we waited. Sometimes one would fall asleep
and the others would wake him. The moon was above us, and we waited.
It was starting down, and we waited. It was halfway down, and Kicking
Bear said, ‘Cousins, they are sleeping hard and the horse-guards will
be nodding. Eagle Voice has seen, and he will lead the way. Remember
the vow and have strong hearts. Nothing lasts but the hills.’ Then High
Horse said to me, ‘Brother, if you die in there tonight, look back as
you are going to the spirit land, for I will be coming.’ And I said, ‘I
will remember to look back, and if you die, look back and wait for me,
for I will be coming too.’

“So we rode into the gulch. It was steep at the top and there were some
rocks. When one rolled and bounced it made a big noise, for the night
was still and cold. Then we would wait and listen awhile. We came to
the mouth of the gulch. There were tepees to our left, all asleep in
their shadows. To the right there were shadows scattered on the slope
and we knew that was the herd. We lay down close to our horses and rode
in slowly. If someone saw, we would look like strays from the herd. A
dog raised a long howl. And for a while there was barking. We just lay
flat on our horses, and let them graze until the dogs were still again.
Then we moved ahead slowly, one behind the other, and I was ahead. We
would move a little and then stop to let our horses graze. Then we
would move ahead a little more and stop to graze, like strays eating
their way back to the herd. I looked ahead, and looked, and I saw my
horse’s shadow. I could hear horses blowing in the grass, and I could
see they were grazing towards the gulch that opened to where the sun
comes from. That was good.

“I moved slowly and stopped; moved and stopped. There was something
ahead a little way. It was like a shadow, with nothing to make a
shadow. All at once it stood up, and it was a man. He said something
like a question, but I could not understand. I touched my horse’s flank
with my heel, and he moved ahead quickly. The man yelled. My gun was
ready; and I was so close, I could almost touch him with it. When he
yelled, I shot. He went down, but my horse reared and leaped and I did
not stop to count coup. There were two shots behind me, and I could
hear the other three yelling where they were strung out behind the
herd. Dogs were barking among the tepees and there was shouting yonder.
I heard this, and then I heard only myself yelling. Then my own yelling
was not loud, for there was thunder in the moonlight, thunder roaring
from the ground and a thin cloud rising with the thunder.

“They were running, the herd was running away. I could see their heads
and backs tossing, but they were shadows in the thin, rising cloud that
thundered in the moonlight.

“The hills that were yonder came closer and all at once they were
standing dark above the thundering cloud with moonlight on their heads.
The herd was slowing. Horses were crowding and screaming, crowding and
rearing and screaming. By now I was waving my blanket above my head,
and I was still yelling. When I looked off to my right I could see
blankets waving in the moonlight like great wings flapping, and I knew
the others were working as hard as I was. The cloud ahead was thinning
a little, and I could see a dark river of horses flowing up the break
in the hills that was narrow at the bottom. They flowed and tossed and
roared the way a sudden flood in a coulee does. I rode at a run up and
down the flank of the crowding herd, waving my blanket and yelling to
keep horses from breaking away and heading back towards the village. If
they had no horses to ride back there, they could not catch us. When I
looked back I could see only dusty moonlight; and if there was yelling
yonder, the river of horses was louder.

“Then I knew the herd had narrowed ahead and the rear was crowding into
the mouth of the gulch--horses on top of horses, rearing and fighting
and screaming. And all at once, the four of us were together again, and
Kicking Bear was yelling, ‘We have got them, cousins! Drive them hard!
We have got them!’ So we kept on yelling and waving our blankets. And
when we rode into the mouth of the gulch behind the last of the herd,
we rode over horses that were down, kicking and squealing, and trying
to get up.

“In a little while we were at the top of the gulch, and the herd was
a river of shadows roaring in the moonlight ahead of us. They were
flowing fast into a wide valley that we could not see across. The gulch
widened and we spread out. Charging Cat and High Horse stayed behind
the herd to keep them going. Kicking Bear rode up the right side and I
up the left, so that they would keep bunched and not stray off.

“When the morning star was up and there was a streak of day on the
range of hills ahead of us, the herd was getting harder to keep going,
and they would not gallop any more. They would only trot. Sometimes my
horse would stop all at once with his four legs spread out, and wobble
and pant. I caught a bigger horse, and it was not hard to catch him.
Then I turned mine loose with the others.

“We pushed the herd on over the next range of hills, and when the sun
came up we let them stop to rest and graze awhile. There was a creek,
and they made for it, crazy with thirst. Many of them piled up in a
bend of the creek where it was easy to reach the water. Some died there
and some died later, from drinking too much I think. Also, we had lost
some in the night, but there were many left. We had not slept or eaten
and we had been riding hard. Charging Cat said, ‘We can kill a yearling
and eat the best of it while they are grazing.’ And High Horse said,
‘Maybe they will be catching strays and following us.’ And I said, ‘If
there were some strays near the village they could catch others fast,
and maybe a big party is on our trail now.’ And Kicking Bear said, ‘We
can kill a yearling beyond that next range of hills there. Maybe there
will be a deer or a fat cow. We can eat over there. We are men, and
that is what we are going to do.’ And Charging Cat said, yes, we were
men, and we could do that.

“So we filled ourselves with water, and when we had changed horses we
began driving the herd again. They were so tired that they did not try
to run away, and we had to ride up and down and wave our blankets and
yell to make them trot. When the sun was high we were over the next
range. Even then we did not stop. Sometimes a horse would just lie down
and stay there. If we kicked him, he would not get up. And we said,
when we got home there would be only good ones. All the time we kept
looking back at the ridge behind us. Maybe there would be a party of
Crows coming yonder. But the ridge got lower and the sun blazed there.
High hills were ahead of us, and there was a place in the edge of them
like the one beyond Mini Shoshay where we kept our horses that time.
It was open towards where the sun goes down, and we could rest. So we
drove the herd in there and made a little fire where we could see back
and watch the horses too. No game was in sight, and we were too tired
to hunt. So we cut a yearling’s throat. The backbone meat was good when
it was roasted, and we ate the liver too.

“When we had eaten, Charging Cat rolled over like dead, and it was
hard to hold my head up; but I thought of Crazy Horse and I wanted to
be like him. So I said, ‘Cousins, go to sleep and I will watch. Then I
can ’waken you and sleep too.’ And they rolled over and were like dead
men.

“The sun was gone. There were stars, and the tops of the hills saw the
moon coming far away, but it was dark around me yet, and the herd was
only shadow. I kept staggering around to stay awake. It was not easy to
be like Crazy Horse. I thought hard about the victory dance they would
have for us. So I made myself dance the way I would be doing then, and
sang to myself. All at once I would be down on my hands and knees, and
it would be hard to get on my feet again. The moon looked over a hill
at me, and it was trying to dance. The stars danced too. I tried to
’waken somebody.

“All at once it was not the moon looking over the hill. It was the sun
blazing on us and I was lying on the grass. I looked around, and when
I did not see any horses, I yelled. The others jumped up, excited and
ready to fight. But there was nothing to see. The place in the hills
was empty.

“When we had looked awhile, Kicking Bear said, ‘We are not dead, so it
was not enemies that did this.’ And I said, ‘Maybe they went looking
for water.’ And Charging Cat said, ‘That is what they did, and we can
find them.’ And High Horse said, ‘If we do not find them, we can go
back _maka mani_ the way we started and find another village.’ And we
all said, yes, we could do that.

“But it was easy to track the horses, for they were all going one way
down along the edge of the hills. And after a while we saw them. They
were scattered out in a valley below us. The hills opened up there and
a creek was running through towards where the sun comes up, and the
grass along the creek was deep. It was not hard to catch the horses we
had been riding, because their lariats were looped around their necks,
and they were tired; but this time we tied them to bushes. It was a
good place to rest the horses and get them full of grass; and it was a
good place for us to eat and sleep.

“There were deer in the valley, and some of them were grazing with the
horses at the edge of the herd. I think they had not learned to be
afraid of men. So I got on my horse with my gun ready and rode slowly
among the grazing herd towards where the deer were. I was lying close
to the horse’s neck, and a little wind was blowing towards me. I got a
fat one. When I shot, the horses nearby started milling and crowding,
but they were so tired they stopped soon and began grazing again.

“We ate plenty. Then before we slept, High Horse and I prepared the
two scalps we had taken. There were four of us, so we cut the scalps in
two; and when we had soaked them in water awhile, we scraped them thin
and stretched them on hooped sticks to dry. Also, we had to have drums
for the victory; so we scraped enough of the deer-hide to make four and
stretched it on hoops. When we had done this, sitting by a little fire,
we slept; but this time two slept while two watched.

“When the morning star looked over the edge of the world, we ate again.
And when we had bunched the horses and started driving down the valley
of the creek, a streak of day was growing away off yonder towards our
home. We drove all that day, but sometimes we stopped a little while to
let the herd rest and drink and graze. There were many lame ones, and
it was hard to keep them going with the others, for we were in a hurry
yet. Maybe the enemy had caught enough strays by now to follow with
a large party. Maybe they thought there were many of us, and so they
waited until they could find enough horses. We talked about this, and
we said if they came we would fight them; it was not good to grow old;
nothing remained but the hills; we were men and we could die. But all
day, whenever we came to a ridge and looked behind us, the back trail
was empty. I think the pipe helped us, the pipe and the vow we made on
the high hill.”

The old man fell silent, and for some time he sat with closed eyes,
head bowed, his hands on his knees.

“It was many snows ago,” he said at length, emerging slowly from his
reverie. “That was my first victory. Before it was dark that day,
we began to know our own country again, and we sang to see all the
good horses we had, for we began to feel safer. There were about
seventy-five of them, and they were the good ones. We had done great
deeds; the people would praise us; and we would not be boys any more,
but men.

“There was a ridge that looked down on our village, and there next
day, when the sun was high above us, the people saw us coming with
the horses. They were getting ready for the sun dance, and the other
bands had come to camp with the Oglalas in one big circle, because it
was a good place for the dance. Some rode out to meet us, singing as
they came. These took care of the horses and went back with them to
the village, telling the people to prepare for a kill-come-back and a
victory.

“We had to get ready; so we made a fire back under the ridge; and when
there was charred wood, we blackened our faces with it. If any of our
party had been killed, we could not have blackened our faces, and the
people seeing would have known, and there would have been mourning
with the rejoicing. If I had been killed, maybe, and was feeding the
coyotes, then the people would sing to my spirit as the others rode in
the victory, ‘_Aah hey! Aah hey!_ Eagle Voice, it is so! We have heard
about you, and it is good to hear! _Aah hey, aah hey, aah hey! Aah
hey!_’ They would sing that song because any old man would tell you it
was an honor to die on the prairie when you were young, and it was not
good to grow old. But we were all alive, and so we blackened our faces.
Then we tied the scalps to coup-sticks, and each had one. The deer-hide
drums we made had dried tight in the hot sun, and we were ready. While
we were waiting, we danced around the fire and sang the way we would do
before all the people. And afterwhile two came to tell us the people
were waiting for us; and when they had gone away, we got on our horses,
and we had chosen the best and strongest ones for this. Then we charged
over the ridge single file. I was first because I had killed first, and
after me was High Horse, for he had killed after me. Then came Charging
Cat who had counted the first coup, and last rode Kicking Bear, who had
counted coup also. We went galloping down the hill, crying, ‘_hown,
hown, hown_,’ all together, as though we were going into battle; and
when we were near the village we all yelled, ‘_hoka-hey_’ and shot
the guns in the air. With our horses on the run, we swung low on the
off-side and charged around the circle of tepees, left to right. And as
we rode, the people raised one great voice, ‘_hiyay, hiyay_’; and we
could hear the women all making the tremolo high above the voices of
the men.

“When we had circled the village outside and come to the opening
towards where you are always facing, we stopped in a line and the
people sang a welcoming song. Then, because High Horse and I had
killed, we rode first around the circle inside the village, left to
right, which is the sacred manner, while the two others waited. Our
relatives had all blackened their faces and they were all together
watching and feeling proud of us. Our horses were tired, but we made
them prance around, and they were excited too. As I rode, I looked
straight ahead, singing to my drum, ‘Eagle Voice, you have said, I have
met an enemy and killed him.’ And when I had sung this four times,
High Horse sang the same about himself, and all the men cried, ‘_hiyay
hiyay_,’ and the women raised the tremolo all around the big circle.

“When we were at the opening again, the women came, with blackened
faces, to walk ahead of us around the circle inside the big village,
and we four rode abreast behind them with the scalps held high on our
coup-sticks. And as they walked, the women sang about the enemies we
had killed and the many horses we had brought them.

“Then when we came again to the opening, the four of us rode
to the center of the big village circle where they had made a
tepee-thrown-over-together, and there the chiefs and the councilors
sat waiting to welcome us. When we had got off our horses and sat down
in a row before the head chief, he prepared a pipe and offered it to
the six powers. And when we had smoked after him, he spoke to us and
praised us. I think he forgot about us running away, because of the
horses and the scalps. And all the people cried out with one voice.

“Then the victory dance began, and the feasting and the giving away;
and the night was old when it was over. Kicking Bear told the story
of our going to war _maka mani_ and of the vow we made on the hill.
Charging Cat made the tale longer with the taking of horses. High Horse
and I made kill talks, telling how it was. And all the people, hearing,
cheered each of us in turn, and the drums beat and the victory song
was loud. And after the men, the women danced in their best buckskin
dresses, beautiful with beads and colored porcupine quills.

“There was much giving away. It was time for the sun dance, and the
hearts of the people were strong. Our relatives gave horses to many,
showing their gladness for our safe return; and the four of us gave and
gave, until we had left only the horses we had before. If there had
been more, we would have given them too; for the heart grows stronger
with giving. I gave most of mine to old people, and some to old women
who were my grandmother’s friends. Maybe I was remembering the old
woman bouncing on her pony-drag, and the pony running away.”




XIV

“_Am I Greater Than the People?_”


When I had fed the fire again, the old man came slowly out of his
reverie and began fumbling for tobacco in his long buckskin sack.
I waited until the pipe was lit, and having drawn a few puffs, I
expressed surprise that High Horse had not saved any horses for Good
Plume’s father. Was not that the reason for his going to war? And did
he not get the girl after all?

Eagle Voice chuckled, and said: “I think when we got back he was not
sick any more. Our heads were full of great deeds and the victory and
the people’s praise and the sun dance. Maybe that made him well. Also,
the Shyela band went away after the sun dance. Maybe the girl got
another man. I do not know.”

“And I was surprised,” I remarked, “that you seemed a little sorry for
the old Crow woman bouncing on the drag when her son was killed and her
pony ran away. Also, you could have killed her grandson, but you let
him go. Were they not enemies?”

“They were enemies,” the old man answered slowly, regarding me with
his crinkled, quizzical look. “We were boys and maybe we were thinking
of our grandmothers. I could tell you a story about the time when a
war party of our people felt sorry for some Crow warriors. They had
no horses. They were starving and freezing in the deep snow, and they
could not fight any more. So our war party did not kill them. It
is a true story. But I will tell you about the time when the Crows
were sorry for the Arapahoes. It also happened. The Arapahoes tell
it themselves. We know their stories and they know ours, for we are
friends. While the people are getting ready for the sun dance, I will
tell you.

“It was many snows ago, before I was born. There is a place we call
Hide Butte, because the Lakotas once found there many hides staked out
to dry by the Crows, and no people anywhere around. It is in the big
bend of Duck River, not far from where the Niobrara heads. A whole band
of the Arapahoes had a winter camp there, and one morning when they
awoke, all their horses were gone. There was not a hoof left. It was
very bad. They knew it was the Crows who did it, so they organized a
war party and started out _maka mani_, following the trail of their
horses. It was very cold, the snow was dry and deep. Afterwhile a wind
began to blow, getting stronger. So they stopped to talk about it, and
they said, ‘We shall freeze looking for horses in this snow. Maybe it
is better to wait awhile until it is warmer, and then we can go.’ Sharp
Nose was the only one who did not say it was better to do that. He
said, ‘You can go back, and I will go on. If I find where the horses
went, I can come back and tell you. I will do my best.’ When he said
this, he thought some would be brave and say, ‘You are not going on
alone, for we are going with you’; but nobody said that, and the party
turned back towards the village.

“So Sharp Nose went on alone. He came to a ridge, and when he looked
back to see the others going yonder, there was one lone man coming.
He waited, and it was his woman’s younger brother, hardly old enough
for war yet. We can call him Little Bear. And Sharp Nose said,
‘Brother-in-law, why are you coming?’ And Little Bear answered, ‘I
wanted to come before, but I thought some older men would come and I
would go with them; but nobody came, so I am here. I will go wherever
you go. I will die wherever you die. That is why I am here.’ And Sharp
Nose said, ‘You are a brave young man.’ So they went on in the deep
snow, Little Bear behind Sharp Nose, following the trail of the horses.
Sometimes it was covered with blowing drifts, but they would find it
again. That night they made a shelter of pine bows in a bend of a creek
against a high bank that broke the wind, and made a fire; and when they
had roasted some _papa_ and eaten, they slept.

“When they awoke, the snow was drifted deep about them; and when they
had eaten again and started walking, they could not find the trail at
all. Then Sharp Nose said, ‘The crows have our horses, and we will go
on to where the Crows are.’ So they went, Little Bear behind Sharp
Nose. The wind was strong and cold; the snow was deep; it was hard
walking, and it was hard to see for the flying snow.

“When the day was getting old and it was time to make a camp for the
night, all at once they could see big dim bodies about them in the
blowing snow, and it was a stray band of buffalo just standing there
with their heads down. It was like dreaming about buffalo to see them,
for the air was like a whirling fog, and night was coming. They did
not seem to notice the men, and when Sharp Nose shot a cow back of the
shoulder so that she dropped and did not get up, the others drifted
away with the wind and were not there any more. It was like dreaming,
but the dead cow was there anyway. So they had to skin the cow, and
it was hard to do that because the wet hide froze their fingers. But
before it was black dark, the skinning was done, and when they had
taken some of the hump meat, the liver, and the bladder, they rolled
the cow off the hide, and that was very hard for them to do. Then they
found a bank that broke the wind, for they were following a creek
that ran towards Crow country so that they might not get lost. There
they dragged the fresh hide into a clump of brush and made a shelter
of it. That helped them to make a fire, and when they had eaten all
they wanted of the raw liver they felt good and slept. The wind died
in the night, and in the still cold morning they walked again, taking
the bladder, some hump meat and some tallow with them. I do not know
how many camps they made, but afterwhile they came to the Greasy Grass
[Little Big Horn] which is the Crow country. By now a great warm wind
was coming from beyond the mountains, roaring all day and all night,
and snow was melting on the slopes towards the sun. It was like the
time when the tender grasses appear, but it was winter yet. And Sharp
Nose said, ‘We will go on down the Greasy Grass, and maybe the Crows
are camping on the Big Horn yonder; but we must be very careful.’ So
they made a camp; and when they had eaten, they rested and slept until
it was dark. Then they started walking again, Little Bear behind Sharp
Nose. And when the day was coming, there was a ridge, and they went
up there to look. It was the Big Horn yonder, and in the valley among
trees there was a big Crow village, and the tepee tops were beginning
to smoke. They were careful to keep from being seen, and when they had
found a deep gully full of brush, with the big ridge between them and
the village, they made a camp and even had a little fire. Then Sharp
Nose said to the boy: ‘We have come to get back our horses; but you
have seen that there are many people yonder. We have come a long way,
and it would not be good to go back with only a story. We cannot steal
all the horses we have lost. If we steal any, the Crows will follow
us, and we shall die. So it will be just as well to die in there among
them, and in the morning when we have gotten ready, we will go in
there. And Little Bear said, ‘I came to go wherever you go and to die
wherever you die.’ And Sharp Nose said to the boy, ‘You are a brave
man. Now we will get ready.’

“So he began making a medicine bundle, and that was the first time the
boy knew why Sharp Nose wanted the bladder and the tallow. Maybe he
was too bashful to ask, because he was only a boy and Sharp Nose was a
great warrior. Of course, Sharp Nose had his pipe with him, also some
tobacco mixed with red willow bark. He kept these in a sack made of
red flannel that he got from a trader, and he would need that also.
So he mixed some sacred tobacco and red willow bark with the buffalo
tallow, which was sacred too, because in his vision quest he had seen
a spirit buffalo. Then he placed this in the buffalo’s bladder, and
around the bladder he tied the red flannel; and red, you know, is a
sacred color. This is the way he made a medicine bundle, and all tribes
know that it is a very sacred thing. But when he had done this, he was
not yet ready, for he had to take off his clothes and paint his body
with sacred red paint. This he made by mixing tallow with some red
paint dust that he always had with him. Last of all he fastened one
eagle feather in his hair, so that it would hang down over the back of
his neck.

“When he had done all this and was ready, the sun was high; and he said
to Little Bear, ‘We will go into the village now. You will carry my
clothes and gun and the bow and arrows, and you will follow after me.’
So they started.

“When they had crossed the top of the ridge, they saw many horses
grazing on the slope and in the valley, and some of these they knew
for the horses that had been stolen from their people. When they were
about halfway down to the village, a Crow, who was out looking for some
ponies, came riding out of a gulch all at once, and when he saw the
naked man all painted red and the boy following after, he yelled and
rode back fast to the village. But Sharp Nose went on walking towards
the village with the medicine bundle on his back and his pipe in front
of him, and behind him came Little Bear with the clothes and the gun
and the bow and arrows in a bundle.

“Then there was shouting down yonder, and they saw that many Crow
warriors were charging up the hill. When these came close and saw the
naked man all painted red with the sacred bundle on his back and the
pipe held out in front, they swung to one side and rode around him in a
circle, for he was a mysterious man painted so and carrying the sacred
bundle and the pipe; and each feared to strike him first. The boy was
not mysterious, so they rode around him, crowding in to coup him many
times, and the clothes and gun and bow and arrows they took away from
him. They wanted to kill him because he was an enemy, but they were
afraid to do that because he was the mysterious man’s helper and maybe
something very bad might happen. While they were doing this, a chief
who was among them got off his horse and went up to Sharp Nose, who
just stood there holding the pipe in front of him with both hands. When
the warriors saw the chief do this, they swarmed around the mysterious
man. They were hungry dogs yelping and snarling because they smelled
fresh meat; but somebody was keeping them away from it with a big club.
The chief looked hard into the eyes of Sharp Nose for a while. Sharp
Nose held the pipe tight and looked back just as hard. Then the chief
reached for the pipe and took it; and when he held it up before the
warriors, they quit yelling and fell back behind the boy, for there is
sacred power in the pipe.

“So now they all started down the hill towards the village. First
went the chief with the pipe; then came Sharp Nose, naked and all
painted red, with the sacred bundle on his back and the one eagle
feather in his hair; then Little Bear with his big bundle; and after
him the warriors on their horses. That is the way they came into the
Crow village, and all the people crowded in about them, buzzing and
wondering about the mysterious man and the boy.

“When they came to the chief’s tepee and the chief motioned for the
strangers to go in, Sharp Nose took the sacred bundle from his back and
held it with both hands in front of him; for I think he was afraid and
wanted the sacred power to protect him. So he went into the chief’s
big tepee with Little Bear close behind him. When they were sitting
down inside, the chief sent a crier about the village telling all the
sub-chiefs to come into his lodge for a council. So they came; and
when they were sitting in a circle about the fire, they began arguing
about the two strangers and what should be done with them. Some wanted
to kill them right away, for were they not enemies? Maybe it was only
a trick they were playing, so that some great harm might come to the
people. But there were others who could see only that the man was
painted red all over and that he had a sacred bundle. Was it not clear
that the man was _wakon_ and not to be harmed? Then why not kill the
boy and have only one to watch? But was not the boy the sacred man’s
helper, and therefore at least a little sacred too? Then why not just
keep the gun and bow and arrows and drive the strangers out of the
village? But might not something very bad happen if the man were really
sacred and brought a sacred gift that was refused? But was it a sacred
gift that he brought, or was it only something he had put in a dirty
red rag?

“So the argument went ’round and ’round the circle, while the man and
boy sat there wondering when they were going to die, for they could not
understand what the council was saying. While the argument was going
’round and ’round, the day grew old and the sun went down. Then the
sub-chiefs went away, still arguing; and it was night; and afterwhile
the man and the boy slept with guards watching about them.

“When the sun came back, the sub-chiefs came too, and the argument
began all over again, going ’round and ’round the circle; and the man
and boy sat there wondering when they were going to die. But afterwhile
the day began to get old, and the voices were not so angry as they
had been. Then the head chief stood up tall and looked hard into each
face about the circle; and there was stillness waiting for his words
to fill it. And after he had looked hard for a while, the chief said,
‘I heard many words yesterday, and today I have heard many words. They
are all the same. I have closed my ears, for they are tired. Now I will
receive this gift the mysterious stranger brings us.’ As he said this,
he stooped and took the sacred bundle from Sharp Nose, and when he was
standing straight and tall again, holding the gift with both hands,
he said, ‘I have received it and with it I am willing to die. If you
want to kill me with this bundle, here I stand.’ When the sub-chiefs
heard these words, they all cried, ‘_hiyee! hiyee!_’ as though they had
but one mouth. Then one stood up and said, ‘I too will die with the
stranger’s gift; and, one by one, all the others stood and said the
same.’

“Of course, only a _wichasha wakon_ [holy man] could untie the sacred
bundle, and there was one among the sub-chiefs who did this. First he
took some red coals from the fire and placed them in front of him. Then
upon the coals he put some pieces of dry buffalo dung; and when these
gave forth a flame, he lit his pipe therefrom, and presented it to
the four quarters and to the sky and to the earth. Then he was ready
to untie the bundle, and as he took it from the chief, there was no
sound in the tepee but what the fire made, and the ring of eyes looked
hard upon the bundle. When the holy man had untied the red flannel, a
sound went round the circle, ‘_ah-h-h_,’ for all could see that this
was not just something tied up in a dirty rag. Then the holy man gave
the bundle to the head chief, who took it and cried, ‘_Hiyee-thanks!_’
The crowd of people outside, hearing the words of the chief, cried out
the same, as with one mouth, ‘_Hiyee_-thanks!’ Then when the chief had
touched his body all over with the sacred gift, he passed it on to the
sub-chiefs, and, all around the circle, each in his turn received the
sacred gift, crying, ‘_hiyee_-thanks!’ But this is not all they did;
for when each had cried out thus and touched his body all over with the
bundle, he gave a gift to each of the strangers--one horse, two horses,
fine buckskin clothing, three horses or maybe four, so that when the
sacred bundle had gone all around the circle, the strangers had all
that they could wish for themselves, except food and drink. Then the
head chief called for water to be brought, and they drank. After that,
they smoked, and all shared the pipe with them. Then food in plenty
was brought and they ate like hungry dogs, for they had eaten nothing
those two days, nor had they drunk till then.

“Now that gifts had been given and received, it was time to question
the strangers. Who were they? Where was their home? What were they
doing here? What did they want that had not already been given? Who
made the sacred bundle and sent it to the Crows? They had smoked the
peace pipe and must tell the truth.

“These things were asked of the strangers in the sign language that all
the people knew. When Sharp Nose answered, he had a few Crow words to
help him, and this is what he told.

“He and his boy helper were Arapahoes; had come out of pity for their
own women and children who were all standing on a hill yonder crying
for their horses; for without their horses, they would starve. He and
his helper had come to die for their people among the Crows who had
taken all their horses, and not a hoof was left. The great Arapahoe
chief had made the sacred bundle and sent it as a gift to plead for his
crying women and children. The Crows were kind to him and his helper,
and he gave them thanks. Would they not be even as kind to all the
women and children crying yonder on a hill?

“Sharp Nose was a good man, but, of course, he had lied; for it was not
the great Arapahoe chief, but Sharp Nose himself, who made the bundle.
It was a bad thing to lie when he had taken the peace pipe that was
offered him; but he did it for his people, and he did not care what
happened to him.

“When the Crow chief and sub-chiefs understood the story, Sharp Nose
told in the sign language with his few Crow words, they just sat still
for a while and looked at the ground. Then the head chief said to Sharp
Nose, ‘How long will you stay here?’ And the other answered, ‘About
four days.’ For a while after that, the chiefs all huddled together
and talked with low voices; and then the head chief turned to Sharp
Nose and said: ‘The gift you have brought is sacred and we could not
refuse it. Also, we have heard the Arapahoe women and children crying
yonder on the hill. When you go back after four days, you shall not go
alone, but thirty of our warriors shall go with you, and with these all
the horses our warriors have taken from your people. Not even a little
colt shall we keep. Also with these shall go one of our chiefs; and his
woman and his son shall go with him, to show that our hearts are good.’

“When they understood what was said, the two Arapahoes stood up and
raised their hands, thanking the Great Spirit; then they stooped and
touched earth, the mother of all!

“So on the fifth day, when the morning star had seen the sun below and
was getting dim, the horse-guards had all the Arapahoe ponies bunched
near the village, and it was a big herd. Also, the thirty warriors were
ready with the chief and his woman and his son. So were Sharp Nose and
Little Bear, all dressed in the fine new clothing the Crow chiefs had
given them.

“And as they started towards the new sun yonder, people sang.

“The weather was still warm, although it was winter. The snows had
melted in the valleys and on the slopes that faced the day, so that
there was good grazing for the horses; and every evening there was
feasting in the camp, for the hunting was good and the hunters many.

“When they came to the Powder River, they had a last big feast, and
then the thirty Crow warriors turned back towards their homes; for
beyond that was the hunting country of the Lakota, Arapahoe, and
Cheyenne, and it was safe. So Sharp Nose, Little Bear and the Crow
chief with his son moved the herd onward a little every day, and every
evening the chief’s woman fed her family well from a full pot. And
afterwhile they were getting near to Hide Butte and the village of the
Arapahoe. Then Sharp Nose said to the others, ‘You will camp here and
watch the horses, for I must go and tell the people to be ready.’ So
that is what they did.

“All the people were happy when Sharp Nose came back to the Arapahoe
village, for his story traveled fast among the lodges. The first thing
he did after he had seen his father, was to tell the head chief all
that had happened; and then he said, I have done a good thing for the
people, but to do it I did a very bad thing. I lied, although I had
taken the pipe; for I said that you made the sacred bundle and sent us
with it as a gift to the Crows, that it might plead for our horses. And
now I ask you to do a bad thing also for the good of the people. When
the Crow chief comes, tell him that you made the bundle and sent it.’

“When the head chief had smoked and passed the pipe to Sharp Nose, he
sat silent for a while and thought. Then at last he spoke. ‘This is a
hard thing you ask me to do; it is a very hard thing.’ Then he sat a
long while and looked at the ground. And afterwhile he said, ‘If the
pipe speak with a forked tongue, who can be trusted?’ And after that
again he sat a long while without speaking. Then he spoke again. ‘It is
a great thing you and the boy have done. Alone you went forth into the
country of the enemy to die, and it was not for honors that you went,
but for the people. If you had died, it would have been a great thing.
If you had died, the people would have a great story to tell, but how
could they live to tell it without horses? Now they shall live and have
both the horses and the story. It is a bad thing, this that you ask me
to do; but it is a good thing also, being for the people. Am I greater
than the people? I will do it.’

“So while the Arapahoes were getting ready to receive the Crow chief
and his family, and to celebrate the strange victory without a scalp,
Sharp Nose went back to the little camp where the big herd was waiting,
and with him went many Arapahoe warriors to help in bringing the horses
back home.

“When the party with the whole herd, and not a colt missing, came near
to the Arapahoe village, the Arapahoe chiefs and councilors came forth
to meet the visitors, singing welcome as they came. And when these had
surrounded the friendly strangers, three softly tanned robes, ringed
round with only chiefs and councilors to carry them, were stretched
that the visitors might be carried therein. Thus the Crow chief and his
woman and his son entered the village of their old enemies that now
were friends, all singing welcome with one great voice.

“Four days there was feasting and dancing; but the Crows were too happy
to go home yet. Four more days there was feasting and dancing; then
they spoke of going home, but the people were too happy to let them
go. And when on the twelfth day the Crow chief said he and his family
had stayed long enough, they did not go with empty hands nor alone.
Twelve pack horses carried the gifts they had received; and not thirty
warriors, but sixty, rode with them, not to the Powder, but all the way
back.

“And since that time these peoples have not fought.”




XV

_The Sun Dance_


“I think Wakon Tonka knows we are going to remember my first sun dance
today,” said Eagle Voice with the crinkled look of amusement about his
eyes. “You see the sun is shining again this morning; the wind is still
and the edge of the air is like a dull knife. There will be a little
melting on the day sides of the hills before night.”

It was truly a beautiful winter morning, and I had noted a light breath
from the southwest. The tepee was cozy, the pipe had been passed, and
I waited. After a long silence, the old man began speaking again in a
low voice, looking towards me with a long-focused gaze as though I were
transparent or not there at all. “She was a pretty girl,” he said with
seeming irrelevance. “Tashina Wanblee. Her name is like singing when I
remember now, far-away singing. When I was riding around the village
with the Crow scalp on my coup-stick after we got back with all those
horses, I saw her. She was pushing through the tight ring of people to
get closer, and she was right under me looking up. I know now that she
was very pretty, for she was still both girl and woman. Her face was
all shining and she was singing to me. I cannot say what look was in
her eyes. I think I did not see the look clearly until I was older and
my eyes were getting tired of all I had seen instead. I saw that she
was very proud of me because I had become a great warrior, and that
made my heart leap. We had played together, and then I was only her
horse; but now I was a man at last, high above her, and all the people
were praising me. So I made my horse rear and plunge. I did not see her
again until I was dancing the sun dance.

“It is the sun dance we are going to remember now.

“When cherry seeds begin to harden, the sun is like a strong man
just past his youth and not yet growing old. It is then that the
sun is highest in the sky and his power is the greatest. There he
stands a little while before he starts back towards the winter again.
That is the time for all the people to come together and dance his
sacred dance, that his power may be theirs and their hearts may be
strengthened for the road of difficulties ahead. Maybe the people have
been wandering in small bands, living in little hoops by themselves.
Maybe some of them have almost forgotten the power of the great hoop to
shield and make them strong. And maybe even in the little hoops some
people are so proud they begin to forget that by themselves they are
nothing. It is good for them to feel the sacred power of the great hoop
again, for it is the power of Wakon Tonka. And at the center of that
hoop the Sacred Tree shall grow and spread above them all and fill with
leaves and bloom and singing birds. It is a time of happiness for all
the people; for it is then that relatives, from far places maybe, see
each other again and tell all that has happened. And there is feasting;
and the old men and women remember, and the little boys and the youths
look and listen, thinking of the great deeds they are going to do. And
under many a lover’s blanket the girls hear whispered words that make
their hearts like birds singing in their breasts.

“It is a happy time; but also it is a time to suffer and endure, for
pain is wise to teach and without courage there is nothing good.

“It was the time of hardening cherry seeds when we got back with all
those Crow horses and the scalp. Already a wide flat place by a creek
was chosen for the sun dance, and the sacred societies were building a
big round enclosure for the ceremony. They cut poles and placed them
in the ground; and over these, other poles were placed, and on these
poles leafy branches were laid to make a circular shade where the
people would sit and watch. And around the outside of this big circle
of shade, tepee skins would be hung to make an enclosure for the holy
place. Inside this circle was the bare flat dancing ground, open to the
strong sun; and in the center of this, the sacred tree would stand.
They stopped working a little while when we came back, but when the
victory dance was over, they went on with the work of getting ready.

“While they were doing this, four old men came to our tepee early in
the morning, and one of them was Chagla, Kicking Bear’s father-in-law
and also a relative to me, but not a very close one. He was _owankara_
that year, the one who prepares the dance for the people. It is a great
honor, like a victory, to do that. Chagla had a pipe with him, and when
he entered our tepee with the three other old men behind him, he held
the pipe in front of him with both hands, the mouthpiece forward. I
knew what they had come for, and all at once I was afraid and wanted
to run away. When we were driving all those horses away from the Crow
village in the night, my heart sang and I was not afraid. Now I wanted
to run away; but I was ashamed of being afraid, so I waited.

“The four old men sat down, and when my mother had given them something
to eat and they had eaten, Chagla began to talk about the sun dance.
It was a great thing to be young and brave and to go forth into enemy
country to do great deeds or to die. But the heart may be strong to do
that because it is proud and hungry for praise.

“In the sacred dance the proud heart dies with pain and thirst, hunger
and weariness, that the power of Wakon Tonka may come in and live there
for the good of all the people. Many brave men had taken the pipe and
would dance.

“When Chagla was through talking, the other old men said, ‘_hetchetu_,’
meaning it was so; and then Chagla held the stem of the pipe towards me.

“As I told you before, we boys had made a vow to dance and we had
dedicated a pipe to Wakon Tonka. We were back home safe now with many
horses and much honor. But I was afraid. This thing I had to do was
_wakon_ and a fearful thing. I wished I had not made the vow, so that I
could refuse the pipe. The four old men and my step-father and mother
were all looking hard at me, but for a while I could not reach out and
take the pipe. Then when Chagla began to draw it back towards him, all
at once my heart leaped within me and I grasped the pipe and held it to
my mouth; and the four old men said, ‘_hi-yay_.’ Then they went away.

“Now I had to dance, for I had made a vow and I had taken the pipe. I
was not afraid any more. When the enemies are many and you are few,
and it seems there is nothing to do but to die right there, you raise
a death-song, and then you are not afraid of anything, because you are
dead already, and what can hurt you? It was something like that with me.

“My step-father and mother were very proud of me when I came back with
those Crow horses, and now they were still prouder because I was going
to dance. So they made a feast and asked many to come. Many came to eat
and they told my mother and step-father what a brave young man their
son was, and maybe I would grow up to be a great chief.

“The dancing place was prepared, and the next thing was to find the
_chun wakon_ [the sacred tree] which would stand in the center of the
circle. It must be a tall slender cottonwood and everything had to be
done just right. When I was young I heard the old men say why this was
so. A long while ago--beyond so many snows and grasses that the oldest
man’s grandfather and his grandfather before him, and his and his could
not remember--there was a beautiful girl who was big with child. The
child was a boy and would grow up to be a great _wichasha wakon_. And
while he was still inside his mother, at the time when cherry seeds
harden and the sun is strongest, he had a great vision about the sun
dance, and everything was shown to him just as it should be. So when
he became a young man he remembered his vision and taught the people.
He was the first _owankara_, the first to prepare a sun dance. This is
what the old men told when I was young.

“Four were chosen to go forth and find the _chun wakon_--two men and
two women. Both men were great warriors and _wichasha yatapika_, and
no bad thing could be said of them. They belonged to the Chante Tinza
society [Strong Hearts]. The two women were mothers, neither young nor
old, and they were always helping the sick and the needy, and no one
among all the people could say anything but good of them. So these four
went forth with axes to find the sacred cottonwood, and after them went
young warriors wearing their war bonnets and painted as for war. Maybe
the tree was a long way off; maybe it was near. But when it was found,
standing tall and straight with a fork near the top, the young warriors
charged upon it, crying, ‘_hoka-hey_,’ as in a battle, and couping the
tree with their coup-sticks. When this was done, the two chosen men
took their axes and struck the tree; and between strokes they told of
brave deeds they had done. Then when the tree was cut more than halfway
through, the two chosen women approached with their axes and chopped
carefully, so that the tree did not fall all at once, but slowly; and
as it fell it cried out as with great pain. When it was lying on the
ground, four poles were placed under it and eight men lifted it so,
placing the butt towards the quarter whence comes the sun, bringing
light and wisdom and the peace that wisdom gives. Then the two women
began chopping off all the branches, and only the two forks were left
at the top. The young warriors now were riding fast back and forth
between the sacred tree and the happy people, who were feasting; and
to these they brought the news of the tree, telling all that the four
chosen ones were doing. ‘They have found the _chun wakon_--they are
chopping it--the tree has fallen--the women are cutting the limbs
away,’ Every little thing the young warriors told the people, riding
fast back and forth; and the people heard, crying, ‘_hi-yay_,’ and
singing as for a victory.

“No one could touch the tree with hands, for it was _wakon_. When it
was all ready to be brought home, eight men lifted it on the four
poles, four men on each side. And four would change with another
four, so that many brought it home. These walked slowly in a sacred
manner; and as they walked, the young warriors rode fast back and forth
between the holy tree and the happy people yonder, telling where it
was now, and where now, and now. And the people heard, cheering and
singing as for a great victory. When at last the _chun wakon_ had come
in sight of home, one of the carriers, who was a great warrior and had
counted many coups, raised a long howl the way a dog does when the moon
is big, and the other carriers joined with him. Then all the people
swarmed forth to meet the tree, singing together as they crowded about
it, but not too close. You remember how the warriors at the wagon boxes
were like a blooming mountain valley walking; but those were singing
the death-song. Now the happy people were singing to the Ever-Living
One, and they were all blooming--the girls and women with flowers
braided into their hair, and the men with their war bonnets.

“So the _chun wakon_ came home. The carriers placed the tree in the
center of the dancing ring with its butt pointing to where the sun
comes up; and there a hole had been dug for the planting. But before
it was planted, Blue Spotted Horse, the old holy man--the same who
prepared me for my vision quest--came to paint the tree. First he
prayed to the Six Powers, as he had taught me, and then he took red
paint that he had made by mixing red clay with bison tallow, and
painted from the top down to the butt, so that the whole tree was
bright with the sacred color. And as he painted the _chun wakon_, all
the people sat round about in a great circle and watched, and there was
no sound; and the sun watched too.

“Next Chagla came with a bundle of chokecherry branches which must be
tied in the crotch of the tree. No chokecherries were growing in the
country where we were, so a band of young warriors had been sent all
the way to Mini Shoshay [the Missouri] to fetch the branches. Below
these the bundle of offerings must be tied. It was a pouch made of
buffalo skin, and inside were all kinds of little things the people had
brought--locks of hair, little pieces of their own flesh, sinew for
sewing and bone needles, rings, beads, and many other little things
that the people might think of giving so that the sacred power might
not forget them; and last of all a flint, an arrow, and a gun were
placed in the bundle. Before he tied these bundles in their places
with thongs of bison hide, Chagla prayed; holding his pipe towards the
sun, stem forward. And when he had prayed, he told the people about a
vision that had come to him. It was the vision that had commanded him
to prepare the dance for the good of the people, that they might be a
nation and live to see their children flourish, and their children’s
children. Last of all, before the tree was planted, Chagla took a piece
of buffalo tallow and dropped it in the hole. It was the gift to Maka
[earth], the mother of all living things, the only mother, she who has
shown mercy to her children.

“Next, long thongs of buffalo hide were tied to the top of the tree,
and when the carriers had raised the tree on forked poles and set the
butt upon the hole, young warriors pulled upon the thongs and the tree
arose until it dropped into the hole. Then all the people cried out
together with one voice, rejoicing.

“So the sacred tree was planted. And the sun went down.

“All the while these things were being done, we who were going to dance
had to wait in a big lodge that had been made for us, and when the tree
had come home, our attendants told us everything that was being done
out there, and we could hear Blue Spotted Horse and Chagla praying.
When the people cried out with one voice, we knew the tree was planted.
We had all gone through the sweat bath, as I did before my vision
quest; and afterwards we were rubbed with the sacred sage and painted
red all over with the sacred paint. We could hear the happy people
outside and what the young warriors cried to them about the preparing
and coming of the tree. High Horse, Kicking Bear, and Charging Cat were
in there too, because the four of us had dedicated the pipe and made
the vow together the way I told you. But we could not go outside and be
seen until it was time to dance. What I have told you is what I have
seen many times when I did not dance.

“It was night now. Before we slept they gave us some food and water,
and that was the last that we could have until our vows were fulfilled.
It was not long before there was snoring all around me, but it was hard
for me to go to sleep. Maybe I was a little afraid. Sometimes I would
hold my breath because something might happen all at once. When the
snoring stopped, now and then, the big night outside held its breath
too, waiting for something. Maybe a voice would roar all at once, as
when I stole my grandfather’s pipe and the thunder beings scolded.
Kicking Bear was lying on one side of me and High Horse on the other.
Next to High Horse was Charging Cat. I could hear Kicking Bear and
Charging Cat breathing deep, as though nothing was going to happen, and
I wondered if maybe I was a coward after all. Then I remembered how my
heart sang when we were driving the Crow herd away from the village
that night. I was not a coward then. Afterwhile I knew that High Horse
was not sleeping either. He would turn over and then turn back; and
when he was still for a while I could feel he was awake yet. That made
me feel better, because I knew he was brave. After we had lain there
awake for a long while, he put his mouth close to my ear and whispered:
‘Brother, are you awake?’ And I answered, whispering: ‘Yes, brother, I
cannot go to sleep.’ He was still for a while, and then he whispered:
‘She _was_ funny, wasn’t she--the fat old woman--the way she bounced?’
Then we put our arms around each other and lay close together,
snickering like little boys.

“Suddenly someone was shaking me by the shoulder, saying: ‘Get up! It
is time!’ Then I knew that the attendants were waking the dancers, and
I had been sleeping deep.

“It was still dark. They told us to put on our skirts of bison fur, and
that is all we wore--not even moccasins. Then they led us outside into
the still, starry night. Some people were moving like shadows among the
tepees and some were coming towards the dancing ring.”

The old man ceased speaking and fell into a reverie, blowing softly the
while on his eagle-bone whistle, highly polished by years of thumbing.

“I had this in my hand,” he said at length. “Chagla gave it to me. I
also carried a pipe. The stem was wrapped with colored porcupine quills
up to the mouthpiece, and that was covered with the green skin of a
mallard. They led us through the opening of the dancing ring, and I
was first because I had taken the scalp. Next came High Horse, Kicking
Bear, and Charging Cat, because of all those Crow horses and the
victory. There were about thirty other dancers.

“As I entered, they gave me a buffalo skull to carry because I was the
principal dancer. We went around the ring from left to right, which
is walking in a sacred manner, and stopped facing the place where the
sun comes up. I put the skull down in front of me with the nose to the
coming day. Low down at the rim of earth yonder was a faint streak of
light. The morning star was big and bright and still. As I gazed at
it, I wanted to cry, but I could feel something like wings lifting me
too. It was the same way the star looked down at me that time after
I dreamed beneath my father’s scaffold and heard him tell me always
to be kind to old people and never to be afraid of anything. Then the
drummers began singing to the coming sun, and their drumsticks, with
bison tails fastened on the ends, made a slapping sound.”

The old man ceased. Getting to his feet with some difficulty, he danced
feebly, keeping time with drums long silent and blowing on his whistle
pointed towards no earthly dawn. “So!” he said at length with a little
cackling laugh and panting like a runner. “_Washtay!_ It was good. But
I cannot dance very well any more. There is no strength in what I eat
these days.”

Seated again, he waited until normal breathing was restored, and then:

“We danced to the drums and the singing, and I stared at the place
where the sky was getting white. Sometimes I could not feel the ground
at all, for something seemed to lift me and it was like floating on
drumbeats and singing. Then suddenly the great round sun leaped yellow
and glaring over the edge of the world, and all the people cried out
together with one voice.

“The singing and drumming stopped now, and they led us dancers back
to the sacred tree, placing us in a circle around it. I had the bison
skull in front of me. Chagla told me I must put it in a certain place
that was prepared near the tree. There was a heap of white clay, and
into this I thrust the skull three times. The fourth time I pushed
it deep and left it there. So Maka’s sacred gift of the bison to the
people was given back to the giver with thanks. Also at that place
there were two forked sticks in the ground with another stick lying
across. Against this I must set my pipe with the stem pointed up. This
was a gift to Wakon Tonka and the life-giving sun.

“The drums and the singing began again, and we danced with our faces to
the blazing sun, holding our whistles in our mouths and blowing upon
them in time with the dancing. Somebody was talking close to my ear,
and it was Chagla. ‘Do not look directly at the sun,’ he said; ‘look
just a little below.’ I tried to do that, but it did not help much at
first, it was like white-hot knives in my eyes. After a while I did not
feel anything, and it was dark. The drumbeats and the singing seemed
far away in empty night, and they lifted me, floating alone. I was lost
in the blindness of my eyes, and I kept praying in my mind in time with
the whistle and the far-off drums, ‘Let me see, let me see!’

“I did not see anything. Then all at once, I could see everything, and
far away was near. There was a wide green land; wide, wide, green,
green, with hills and valleys and streams glittering bright. And the
sky over it was deeper and wider and bluer than I can say. It was the
same land I saw when I dreamed under the scaffold and my father came
to me on his spirit horse. The drumbeats and singing were dim and far
away--more like remembering than hearing. I was looking hard at a
hilltop for a horseback to come out of the sky. Then someone shook me
by the shoulder, and I knew it was Chagla.

“The drums and singing were still. This world came back slowly out of
the dark. I was looking down at my shadow. It was right under me like a
puddle. Then I was very thirsty, but I made myself remember the green
land and the glittering streams, and when I could do that, I forgot I
was thirsty.

“All the people were around us in a crowd, watching us while they
feasted; but when I thought about eating, it was water that I wanted.
Also while the people were watching and eating, the relatives of the
dancers were giving away many things--horses and fine clothing, beaded
work, and maybe tepees; for giving is a sacred deed and is pleasing to
the Mysterious One who gives everything.

“Chagla took my pipe from where I had placed it, and told me I should
give it to one of the singers and drummers. So I went to a man, and
when he held out his hands I spread his fingers and pretended to give
him the pipe. Three times he tried to grasp it, but I pulled it away.
The fourth time, I let him seize it. Others were doing the same with
other drummers and singers.

“The high sun was burning hot. The attendants came now and rubbed us
all over with sacred sage until the red paint was gone and our skins
were dry. Then they painted us again. They made my body yellow for the
power to grow. Then they took some blue paint made from clay we used to
get at Rawhide Buttes. With this my arms were painted from the elbows
down, and my legs below the knees. The blue was for the power of the
quarter where the sun goes down, the power to make live and to destroy,
the power of the Thunder Beings and the rain. With these powers to help
me, I would grow to be a great warrior; also a helper of the people,
for the hoop of the people and the shielding tree belong to the yellow
quarter. When they had done this, they painted something on my back,
and it was a half-moon. They did not paint a new moon, because that
would have meant going down to the spiritland beyond where the days of
man end; and I was to grow in this world and be a great warrior.

“While they were painting us the drummers sang about it like this.” The
old man lifted a cracked, quavering voice, drumming on one hand with
the other:

    “‘Father, paint the earth on me.
    A nation I will make over.
    A two-legged nation I will make holy.
    Father, paint the earth on me.’

“Last of all, they fastened strips of bison-hide around my wrists and
ankles, that the strength of the bison might be mine.

“I was then told to get my pipe back and place it again where I had
placed it in the morning. The man held it in front of him with both
hands, and when I reached for it he pulled it away. Three times he did
this. Then I placed both of my hands on the top of his head and brought
them slowly down along his neck and shoulders and arms. That was the
fourth time I reached for the pipe, and he let me take it, saying,
‘_palamo yelo_ [thanks].’ Then I placed it against the cross-stick
again, with the stem pointing upward. While I was doing this, other
dancers were doing the same thing, and so the singers shared in the
gift to the Ever-Living One. The power fell on them too, and drew us
all closer together.

“Blue Spotted Horse came and pierced the flesh on the breasts of two
of the dancers, and through the cut on each he tied the end of one of
the rawhide thongs that were fastened to the top of the sacred tree.
When he did this, the two dancers only stared at the sun. They did not
move; they did not make a sound. I had vowed secretly to do this on the
fourth day, and I wondered if I could be as brave as they were.

“Now the drumming and singing began again. I saw the two dancers, with
pierced breasts, lean back against the thongs with blood running down
their bellies. Then we all began dancing with our eyes to the blazing
sun. I did not see them after that, for the hot light stabbed my eyes
and the blindness came back quickly. I heard later that one of them
fainted when the sun was getting low, and there he hung from the tree
until his father had him cut down. But he danced again next day, after
the holy men had fixed his wound and he had slept. The other one leaned
so hard upon the thong that he soon pulled it through the flesh. After
the holy men had washed the wound and put medicine in it, he danced
until night.

“I saw nothing. In the darkness of my eyes I floated alone on the
drumbeats and the singing, and as I floated I prayed, ‘Let me see!
Let me see!’ I wanted to get back to the wide green land and the
sparkling streams; but I saw nothing. Someone came and put a piece of
slippery bark into my mouth. I think it was Chagla. I chewed on this,
and it made my mouth feel better. I went on dancing and praying in the
darkness, ‘Let me see again! Let me see!’ All at once I did see, and
I was not thirsty any more. It was the same wide green land under the
wide blue sky. It was beautiful, but it was empty. I looked and looked,
but there were no people, and no horseback came out of the sky. When
the far-off drums and singing stopped, and this world came back, the
sun was down, and the night was coming.

“I dropped down where I was, and I must have gone to sleep right away.
Then someone was shaking me by the shoulder, and I thought I heard my
father saying, ‘Hold fast! There is more!’ But when I was awake, it was
one of the attendants who were waking the dancers. It was still dark,
but there were stars. The sky was fading a little over where the sun
comes up. People were moving about in the starlight yonder. When I
stood up and looked at the morning star, a power went through me and
I felt good. I was not heavy at all. I felt very strong. Blue Spotted
Horse was praying. There was no sound but his voice raised high. He
prayed that the nation might live. To the Six Powers he prayed and to
the coming sun, and the morning star looked and listened. Then the
drumming began and the singing. It was the sun singing while it came up
out of the night yonder:

    “‘With visible face I am appearing.
    In a sacred manner I appear.
    For the greening earth a pleasantness I make.
    The center of the nation’s hoop I have made pleasant.
    With visible face behold me!
    The four-leggeds and two-leggeds, I have made them to walk.
    The wings of the air, I have made them to fly.
    The finned of the streams, I have made them to swim.
    The rooted ones, I have made them to rise.
    With visible face, behold, I appear!
    My day, I have made it holy.’

“The morning star went out and the sun blazed over the edge of the
earth. The blindness came. I prayed hard, ‘Let me see!’ I danced hard,
like a homesick runner going home. The blindness did not go away. The
darkness was burning hot. It pressed down upon me with great power. I
did not float on the drumbeats and the singing. I worked hard to keep
on dancing. My tongue was a stranger in my mouth. It was hard to blow
upon my eagle-bone whistle. I kept on trying to pray and to remember,
‘Hold fast, there is more.’ I held fast, but I could not see. Someone
put the slippery bark into my mouth. It was not easy to chew, but it
helped a little. That day, it was like dancing always, but I held fast;
and the drums stopped and the singing. I slept there on the ground,
and had bad dreams about rivers too far off to reach, or they were not
there when I came to where I saw them.

“The third day was harder, and it was very hot. I could not see, and
my tongue filled my mouth. Afterwards I heard that five of the dancers
fell down that day and could not get up. They had to be carried out.
Charging Cat was one of them; but High Horse and Kicking Bear went
through. I prayed to see, but it was only words. I kept on dancing
because I remembered, ‘Hold fast, there is more!’

“That night I dreamed of crawling around in the dark trying to find
water. Afterwhile I heard a voice, and I knew it was my father.
I could not see him, but his voice was like a wind out in the
night, everywhere, nowhere: ‘Let your heart be strong--it is nearly
finished--you will see--you will see!’

“Then the attendant was shaking me awake.

“It was going to be the last day. When I got up from the ground, my
body felt dead and it was hard to lift. But when I looked at the
morning star above the pale streak yonder, my father’s words seemed
to fill the hollow world that listened, and a power ran through me
stronger than ever before. While a holy man was praying, the power in
me grew; and when the drums began and the singers sang, my heart sang
too.

    “‘See where the sacred sun is walking!
    In the blue robe of morning he is walking,
    With his power greenward walking,
    _Hey-o-ha, hey-o-ha_
    _Hey-o-ha, hey-o-ha_.’

“I danced, but I did not feel the ground. The star died; the sun blazed
up; the drums and singing stopped. It was time to fulfill the vow I
made when I saw the Crow village and all those horses from the hill. I
had told Chagla about this, and now it was the time. He came to me and
said, so that many could hear, and his words spread through the crowd:

“‘Eagle Voice, the people are asking, that you give them a day.’ And I
answered: ‘I will give them a day.’ My tongue could not make the words
clear, but Chagla said them so that all could understand: ‘Eagle Voice
has said it. He will give a day to the people. Eagle Voice has said
it.’ When they heard, the people cheered with one voice, ‘_hi-ya!_’

“The attendants began painting the dancers again after they had rubbed
our bodies with the sacred sage. My body they painted red all over,
except from the elbows and knees down, and that was blue for the power
to make live and to destroy, as before. My body was red to make me
holy, for through me a sacred gift would come to the people. From each
wrist they hung an eagle feather, and one was tied in my hair, standing
up. These were for the Great Mysterious One whose gift would come
through me, and whose strength must be mine. When this was done, Blue
Spotted Horse came and painted something on my back. It was a flying
eagle, for the one that spoke to me with my father’s voice in my vision
on the hill when I was a boy and Blue Spotted Horse prepared me for my
quest. That is why I am Eagle Voice. So it was painted on my back.

“While this was being done, another holy man came with some sacred sage
to where I had placed the bison skull. He was wearing a bison robe
painted half yellow and half red. Into the eye sockets and the ear and
nose holes of the skull he thrust the sage. Then he sang a bison song:

    “‘A sacred nation, they are appearing.
    They are appearing, may you behold!
    The bison nation, they are appearing!
    May you behold!’

“As he was singing the bison song, all at once the sage was blown out
of the holes with great power, and a deep bellowing came forth. I do
not know how this was, but I saw and heard; and I could feel the power
growing in me, so that I felt strong as a bison and light as an eagle
floating.

“When I was painted, they hung the bison skull on my back with a thong
across the back of my neck and under my arms. Then they turned me to
the blazing sun, and I stared straight at it. The burning blindness
turned dark. I heard Blue Spotted Horse praying, and then, far off, I
felt the knife in the flesh of my chest and the thong pushed through.
If it hurt, I do not remember. I think the power lifted me above my
body.

“When the drums and singing began again, I swung backward, leaning from
the thong in my breast. It was like waking all at once from a dream.
I forgot that I wanted to see. I wanted to cry out, but I did not. It
was pulling the raw heart out of my breast. I wanted to stop dancing,
but I kept on. This is the first time I ever told anybody; but now I am
too old to be ashamed. I forgot to pray. I just kept saying to myself,
‘Hold fast, hold fast, hold fast.’ All the power had left me alone with
my body in the burning dark, and my heart was tearing from its roots.

“This was always; and then it was not. Maybe my body was still dancing
on the ground; I do not know. I was swinging in a great hollow night,
back and forth, farther and farther, farther and farther. I was doing
this always; I could not stop; I could not get loose. There was no one
to cry to, there was nothing to grasp, for everywhere it was empty.

“This was always too; and then I swung so far that I broke loose and
flew, head first, belly down, with my hands in front of me--like
diving--no, like an arrow when a strong man draws the bow--_whang!_ I
flew so fast that my body sang. Then I saw the morning star straight
ahead of me, and day was coming very fast. No, it was not coming; it
was yonder and I was going to it. The star went out, and I was there,
floating in clear, white light. The sun did not rise, but day was
everywhere upon a wide green land--hills and valleys and gleaming
streams.

“Then right below me there was a great village, a wide hoop of people,
and they were all looking up at me and singing thanks for the good day.
The light was so clear that I could see their happy faces, and I knew
they were all my people. Many, many of them were glowing, and those
were the ever-living ones who had died. I saw many darker ones who were
still in this world, but all were united in the clear, happy day. When
I looked for my father, he was there all glowing, and beside him was a
young man who did not glow. When I looked harder at the young man, I
could see it was myself. Then the wide land went out and I was falling,
dizzy, in a darkness.

“Blue Spotted Horse was looking down at me and someone was dropping
water into my mouth. They told me I had danced until the thong pulled
out when the sun was starting down the sky. I had fulfilled my vow, and
the water dropping on my tongue felt good; but I was very tired and my
breast ached. Then I knew I was lying in a shade, and I could hear the
drums and singing out yonder where they were still dancing. Afterwhile
when I could talk a little, because the water softened my tongue, I
told Blue Spotted Horse what I had seen. He said, ‘My grandson, it is
good. The power has come to you and you must send forth a voice for all
the people to the Six Grandfathers.’

“They rubbed me all over with sage and painted me again--red as before,
and blue from the elbows and knees down. While they were doing this
they kept dropping water into my mouth a little at a time, and Blue
Spotted Horse sang a medicine song. I could feel the power coming back
into me while he sang. The water helped too.

“The sun was getting ready to go down, but it was still about the
breadth of a hand above the earth. Then Chagla came and led me out into
the dancing ring. I was naked now except for a breech clout, for I
came naked into the world, and I must go to the Six Powers as I came.
When they saw me, the drummers and singers stopped, and all the people
cheered with one great voice, for the word had spread among the people.
When I heard the voice of my people, it was like my vision and the
power came over me stronger than ever. I felt light and happy and my
heart sang again.

“Chagla had made a quirt out of bison-hide fringed into many little
thongs at one end, and at the other end was a loop to hang about the
neck. This was painted red. He gave it to me, and said, ‘Hang this
down your back and never let it go. If you do this, no arrow or bullet
can ever touch you, for the quirt will brush them away like flies.’ I
thanked him and hung it down my back, as he said. Then he led me to
where a black horse was waiting for me at the entrance to the ring. The
horse was painted blue on the nose and blue across the withers. From
his tail one eagle feather hung.

“Before I got on the horse, Chagla told me what I must do. I felt light
and strong when I put my hand on the horse’s mane and sprang onto his
back.

“Chagla brought my pipe from where I had placed it and gave it to me.
Then I rode to the quarter where the sun comes up and raised my hands,
palms out, with the pipe in the right one. There I sent a voice for all
the people: ‘Grandfather, you have given me this pipe and the morning
star. Give me the eyes to see and the strength to understand, so that I
may be a nation and live.’ And when I had said it, all the people cried
out together, giving thanks.

“Then I rode back to the quarter where you are always facing, which
was the entrance. It is where the summer brings the power to grow.
There I raised my hands and the pipe as before, and sent forth a voice:
‘Grandfather, you have given me the hoop and the tree. Make them
flourish that I may be a nation and live.’ Again the people cried out
together, giving thanks.

“When I was riding to the quarter where the sun goes down, all at once
there was a face just under my horse’s left ear. It was all bright and
shining from inside like the people in my vision, and it was Tashina
looking up. She was so close that I could see tears on her cheeks. When
I was much older I thought about this, and it was like rain when the
sun is shining. But it was mixed up with my vision then, and I was full
of the great thing I was doing for the people. At the quarter where the
sun goes down, I faced the level sun and sent forth a voice: ‘Thunder
Beings, you who make live and destroy, hear me and give me your power
that I may be a nation and flourish.’ Again the people raised one
voice, giving thanks.

“When I had sent a voice at the quarter where the great white giant
lives and asked for cleansing and healing, I rode again to the quarter
where the sun comes up. But I did not stop there. I turned and rode
straight in to the sacred tree at the center. There I stopped and
raised my hands and the pipe to the sky straight above me. Then I sent
forth a voice:

“‘Grandfather, Great Mysterious One, you have been always, and before
you nothing has been. There is no one to pray to but you. You are older
than all need, older than all pain and prayer. The star nations all
over the heavens are yours, and yours are the grasses of the earth.

“‘Grandfather, it is finished now, and I have fulfilled the vow I made
to you. Send me the good day that you have shown me. I want to be a
nation and live.’

“When I had said this, the people cried out again with a great voice,
giving thanks, and my horse lifted his head high and neighed and
neighed; and the other horses grazing in the valley heard and raised
their voices too. People talked about this afterwards. Some said the
power was so strong that even the four-leggeds gave thanks. Others said
my horse saw his ghost relatives in the world of spirit, and was crying
out to them.

“When this was done, Chagla gave me a piece of red cloth, with which
I must make an offering to earth, the mother of all. There was a
stake pushed into the hole against the bottom of the sacred tree,
and he pulled this out. Then I leaned over the horse’s neck and held
the red cloth above the hole. As I did this, the horse put his nose
to the ground. Maybe he wanted to nibble some grass; maybe the power
was strong in him and he was giving thanks. I do not know. Then I
sent a voice to the earth and said: ‘Maka, all creeping things, the
wings of the air, those that swim in the waters, the rooted ones, the
four-leggeds and the two-leggeds--they all belong to you. You are
the mother of all, the only mother, she who has shown mercy to her
children. Have mercy on me, for I want to be a nation and live.’ Just
as I finished saying this, something sucked the red cloth out of my
hand and down into the hole. I do not know how this was, but Chagla and
I and some others saw it.

“Now I had finished, and as I rode back to where the sun comes up and
then to the opening and out of the circle, the voice of the people was
loud, giving thanks for the good day. When the voice of the people was
still, I could hear Chagla. He was facing the quarter where the sun had
just gone down, and he was singing:

    “‘A sacred praise I am making.
    A sacred praise I am making.
    My nation, behold it in kindness.
    The day of the sun has been my strength.
    The path of the moon shall be my robe.
    A sacred praise I am making.
    A sacred praise I am making.’

“When I got off my horse at our tepee, the power left me, and my legs
would not hold me. My mother and step-father held me up. When I was
lying down inside, Blue Spotted Horse and Chagla came. The last I
remember they were washing my body and dropping water and meat juice
into my mouth. The people danced and feasted most of the night, but I
did not hear them. In the morning, they ’woke me, and when I had drunk
some water and eaten a little, I slept. That evening they fed me again
and gave me water, and I slept. Next morning I was very hungry and
thirsty. So I drank and ate all I wanted. I felt strong again, and my
breast did not hurt. Blue Spotted Horse made it heal fast. Look. You
can see it yet.”

With fumbling fingers the old man unbuttoned his shirt, exposing
puckered scars on the skinny chest.

“_Washtay!_” he said, as he rebuttoned his shirt. “It was good. Wakon
Tonka sent the people good days when I was young. The hoop was not yet
broken, and the people had not forgotten all that is true.”

Eagle Voice seemed to have forgotten me suddenly. Gazing at the
ground, he began blowing softly on his whistle. “Grandfather,” I said
at length; “you still have your eagle-bone whistle; but where is the
sacred quirt that Chagla gave you?”

The old man regarded me for a while with that crinkled look of
amusement about his eyes. “Grandson, you are in a hurry again,” he
said. “Can you not wait for a story?”




XVI

_Thanking the Food_


“I have been thinking about roads,” the old man remarked musingly, with
an air of reluctant return from somewhere far off. It was the next
morning, and I had waited longer than usual for the story.

“About roads?” I said; “what roads, Grandfather?”

“Good roads, bad roads, Grandson,” he replied. “I have been thinking
maybe the good road is the one a man does not walk because he does not
see it until he is tired and looks back. Also I have been thinking the
bad road is bad because he walks it, and maybe does not see it either,
until he is very tired and stops to look back. There was a road I did
not walk that time, because I did not find it until I had walked across
the world.”

“And what road was that, Grandfather?” I asked.

“A girl’s road,” he answered slowly, fixing his long-focused gaze upon
something beyond me. “Tashina went away on it.”

He was silent awhile, until the focus of his gaze shortened to include
me, and then--

“My mother and step-father were proud of me because I had given the
people a good day, and they were all praising me. I think I was very
proud of myself too. Maybe afterwhile when I was older and had counted
many coups and all the old people praised me because I always had a big
pot and tender meat for them--maybe then the _wichasha yatapika_ would
make me one of them. And maybe when I was still older, I would be a
great chief. That is what I was thinking all the time, after the sun
dance, and maybe my step-father and my mother were thinking that too.
So they said we must make a feast and invite very old men and women to
come and eat. Also, we would ask some wise old man to come and thank
the food.”

“Could not anyone give thanks for food, Grandfather?” I interrupted.

“Anyone could give thanks for food,” the old man replied. “A woman
could do that. Maybe she has been cooking meat, and before she puts
it out, she takes a tender piece and holds it up and says, ‘Wahnagi,
eat this for me.’ She is making a thank offering to the spirits by
sharing her meat with them before she eats any herself. War parties
would do this too when they sat down to eat. But thanking the food was
different. Not everyone could do that.

“They used to say it was not easy to walk the road of difficulties
through this world; but of all the hard things, four things were
hardest. Getting food was the first, and without food there is nothing
else. The second hardest thing was losing your oldest child. The third
was losing your woman. The fourth was having to fight a big war party
when yours was small. I had an uncle when I was a boy, and his name was
Flying By. Once I asked him, ‘Uncle, what is the hardest thing you have
known?’ And he said, ‘My nephew, it was not any of the four hardest
things people talk about.’ Then he told me of a time when he was out
hunting alone over by Mini Shoshay [the Missouri], and a party of Rees
chased him. He got away, for he had a good start, and hid in the thick
willow brush that grew in a swamp. It was getting dark, so the Rees did
not find him. He was afraid to leave the brush or make any noise. But
he was not alone there. The whole nation of mosquitoes was camped in
that swamp, and they were singing and dancing and feasting all night
long. My uncle was the meat. ‘Nephew,’ he said, ‘there are not four,
but five hardest things, and that is the hardest.’ But my uncle was
always joking.

“Getting food is the hardest thing, and without it there is nothing. It
is great to be brave in battle, but a great warrior must look to the
food and remember the old and needy.

“So my mother borrowed some more pots from her friends who came over to
help her cook the meat for the feast; and these brought with them some
of the tenderest meat they had, for they wanted to help in the giving.
And when the meat was all tender and the soup smelled good, I had to
go all around the village, inviting the very oldest people. Kicking
Bear, High Horse, and Charging Cat went along with me, because we had
been brothers in a great deed. When I came to an old man, maybe he was
so old that he dozed most of the time, and he would be sitting with
his chin on his chest and his nose almost on his chin, and his hair,
thin and white like mine, over his eyes. So I would tap him on the
shoulder, and he would look up and blink, with his head shaking. ‘_Heh!
heh! heh!_’ he would say, wondering what was wrong, for he had been far
away in a dream, maybe. Then I would say, ‘Grandfather, we are going to
thank the food over at our lodge, and we want you to come and help us;
for we are only young men and you are _gan inhuni_ [come to old age]
and you are wise.’ And when the old man was awake and understood, maybe
he was so pleased that he would cackle when he thanked me; and maybe he
would show only two teeth, and neither a friend to the other. And maybe
he would say, ‘You thought I was sleeping when you came; but I was just
sitting here thinking about the time when I was a fine, brave young man
like you. I was a good dancer, and I was good-looking too! The girls
all liked me!’ Then maybe he would giggle and poke me in the ribs.

“Or maybe it would be a woman so very old that she could not get fat
any more, and she was all skin and bones. And maybe she would be
nodding over a moccasin she had been trying to bead for a long while,
and her hands were like eagle claws, and her eyes dim, so that the
moccasins did not ever get finished. And she would look up and squint
hard at me, and say, ‘Are you not so-and-so’s son?’ And it would be
somebody whose name I had not heard. I would tell her my father’s name,
and she would look troubled. Then she would thank me and smile at us
just like our own grandmothers, and tell us we were fine boys.

“While we were going around inviting old people, my step-father went
over to see Blue Spotted Horse and asked him to thank the food for us.
He could do this because he was old and very wise. Also he was a holy
man. He had taught me when I went on vision quest, and he had helped me
in the sun dance. I was like a younger grandson to him.

“The feast was ready, so we were waiting for the old people. We could
see them coming from all over the village, bringing their cups and
knives with them. They were all three-legged, the way I am now, for
near the end of the black road there is a cane. Some of them would be
all bent over and they would be holding their heads up like turtles to
see where the pots were steaming. I was a boy, straight and tall, then,
and that is the way they looked to me. Some would be holding their
hands on their backs where it hurt them to walk. Some of them would be
hurrying and some would not be hurrying at all; but one would be coming
no faster than the other.

“We could hear them making songs as they came, and when they got near
enough, maybe the song would be like this:

    “‘_Hi-a-he! Hi-a-he!_
    Eagle Voice, you are brave, they say,
    And I have heard.’

“Maybe it would start thin and high like singing, and then get tired
all at once and be just muttering.

    “‘To be a man is difficult, they say;
    But you are brave and I have heard.
    Many horses you have brought;
    Many horses, I have heard.
    _Hi-a-he! Hi-a-he!_’

“When we were all sitting in a circle in front of our lodge, with the
full pots steaming in the middle and the old people holding their cups
and knives, many people were crowding around to see. They were all
still when Blue Spotted Horse stood up with his pipe near the pots. He
looked very old too, for his hair was white and he stooped, and when he
looked at you there were half-moons in his eyes. But when he held his
hands and his pipe to the place where the sun goes down, and sent forth
a voice, it went with eagle wings. There he prayed to the Power that
makes live and destroys. To the place where the Great White Giant lives
he turned and prayed to the Power that cleanses and heals. To the place
whence come the morning star and the day, he prayed to the Power that
gives light and understanding and peace. At the place whence comes the
summer, he prayed to the Power of growing. Then he raised his hands and
his pipe to the sky, sending a voice to Wakon Tonka, the one who has
all these Powers. And last he leaned low, praying to Maka, the mother
of all that live.

“When he had done this, he went to his place in the circle and sat
down. There was a murmuring all around the hoop and among the crowding
people. _Hetchetu aloh!_ So it was indeed. Then Blue Spotted Horse
looked all around the circle at the old people waiting with their cups
and knives, and he smiled at them like a grandfather at his children’s
children. Then he looked straight at us boys and began talking:

“‘Grandsons, these old people here have been sitting in their tepees
with their heads down. They were thinking about where to get some
good tender food. They all know you, so they all began looking up to
your tepee to see if maybe smoke was coming out. Smoke came out of
your tepee, and they were waiting. They were sitting there waiting
with their heads down thinking of you. You had done brave deeds, so
maybe you would be giving a feast. And while they were sitting there
thinking, all at once there you were, inviting them to come and eat!
They are not often happy any more, for the black road gets steeper
before it ends. But when they heard you, all at once they were happy.
You have seen them coming to your tepee, smiling and rejoicing and
singing praise of you. So you see them now, all happy and sitting in a
sacred manner with you in one hoop. They are holding their empty cups,
and their knives they have sharpened. They are hungry, and the food
you have cooked smells so good and looks so good. You are young and
brave. Who but you will fill their cups with soup and tender meat?

“What do you want of these old people, that you have cooked all this
good food for them? Surely there is something you must want; but you
know very well they cannot give you anything now. Still you feed them.
What do you want from them? They cannot repay you, for they have
nothing.

“‘Yes, they do have something. Maybe it is the white war bonnet they
wear. Maybe that is what you want them to give you. Maybe it is the
wrinkled old buckskin they are wearing [their skins]; but that is
almost worn out, and would not keep you from freezing on a winter
trail. Maybe you want them to give you their canes; but three legs are
slower than two.

“‘I think you do not want any of these things now; but maybe this is
what you are thinking: I am young and I will look to the old who are
worthy. They have seen their days and proven themselves. With the help
of Wakon Tonka, they have grown ripe for the world of spirit, and they
can see what eyes do not show. What will be, but is not yet, they can
tell it; and what comes out of their mouths, it is so, because it is
not with their eyes that they see. If I give them of my strength, being
young, their power to live will come back to me and my family. So shall
we come in our time to where the cane is; so shall we wear the white
war bonnet and be ripe for the world of spirit; so we too shall see our
children’s children.

“‘I thought all the while, grandsons, that there must be something you
wanted for this food; and now you have told me what it is. It is good,
and so shall it be.

“‘And now as we sit here together in a sacred manner, smelling all
this good meat, we can hear the Food talking. It is talking to you,
grandsons, and it says: “I come first, and I am sacred, for without
me there is nothing. The Grandfather, Wakon Tonka, has given me to
Maka, the mother of all living things, and she has shown mercy to her
children that they may live. On her thousand breasts I am grass; in
her thousand laps I am meat; and again on her thousand breasts I am
grass. The bison’s strength is mine. The great warrior, I have made
him strong for his deeds. The greedy-for-me, their days shall be easy
to count; but those who are liberal with me, upon me shall they uproot
their teeth [grow very old]. Unless the great warrior gives me with
his deeds, they shall be as a coward’s. Let any try without me, I will
always win. It is I who am the greatest warrior. If I had weapons, who
could count my prisoners by now?”

“‘Grandsons, so it is the Food talks, and you have heard. Surely we
must thank this sacred one, and how can we do that? _Plama yelo_ is a
breath in the mouth; it is easy to say, and no one is the fatter for
it. The Food itself has told us how to thank it. We shall give it to
the needy and the old.’

“When Blue Spotted Horse was through talking, the old man at his left
smiled at us boys and said, ‘_Ho_, Grandsons! _How!_’ Then the next
and the next spoke to us in the same way, until all the old men and
old women had spoken. And when the voices had gone around the hoop
from left to right, which is the sacred manner, and come back to Blue
Spotted Horse, he said, ‘I am sending the food neither down nor up. The
people are hungry and ready, so put it out.’

“Then we boys went around the hoop, left to right, beginning with
the first old man who had spoken, and filled all the cups of the old
people, Blue Spotted Horse’s last, with soup and tender meat. And this
we kept on doing, until no more cups were emptied. Then we ate, and
when we had eaten, the meat that was left we divided among the old
people, and they went away with it, making songs about the brave young
men who had fed them.”

Eagle Voice sat silent for a while, his eyes closed, his hands on his
knees. Emerging from his reverie at length, he fixed his crinkled gaze
on me and smiled. “You can see,” he said, “that the Food was right
when it talked, for I have come to where the cane is. Most of my teeth
are uprooted, and I am wearing the wrinkled buckskin and the white war
bonnet. When I was young and my head was full of brave deeds and horses
and coups and scalps, I have heard old men say, ‘It is good to be young
and die on the prairie for the people. It is not good to grow old.’
Maybe they wanted to make us braver. Maybe the black road made them
tired where it steepens. When I am all alone, I think and think; and
it is about going to visit my relatives in the world of spirit that I
think most; but it is good to look back and remember.”

“When you look back, Grandfather,” I said, “you see a girl’s road that
you did not walk because you did not see it then. Do you wish you had
seen it and walked it?”

“There are many roads, Grandson,” he answered. “They all come together,
and at that place there stands a three-legged old horse always looking
for the grass that used to be.” The picture of himself, drawn once
before, amused him, and he chuckled over it. “_Dho!_” he continued.
“It was the road Tashina Wanblee walked that time, and I did not see it
until I had walked across the world.

“When the feasting was over, the bands that had come together for the
sun dance were getting ready to scatter and go their own ways. Boys and
men would be catching horses. Tepee poles would be clattering. Women
would be scolding because the horses would not stand still while the
drags were loaded. People would be visiting each other because maybe
they would not meet again until next grass, or never. Maybe boys would
be sneaking off into the brush to meet their girls, and maybe some boy
would run away that night and follow the trail of a girl so that he
could talk to her under the blanket once more.

“High Horse was a Miniconjou and Kicking Bear was a Hunkpapa. They
were going to Pa Sapa [the Black Hills] with their people. But we had
big plans. When the fall hunt was over, they would come back again and
find our village somewhere on the Greasy Grass [Little Big Horn] or
the Powder or the Tongue. Then the three of us and Charging Cat, and
maybe some others, would make war against the Shoshonis or the Crows,
or maybe both of them. It was harder to make war in the winter than in
the summer, and if we got back with horses and scalps we would be great
warriors and everybody would be talking about us again. Maybe we would
all be chiefs sometime. We had been together most of the time after
the sun dance and thanking the food, and we talked and talked about
our plan. We would ride out into the hills alone and talk about how we
would do. So we were not thinking about girls. Even High Horse had not
been sick, since getting all those horses cured him.

“I was out helping to catch horses, and I was riding back leading
three of them. At the creek I stopped to let them drink, and there
was some brush there. I was leaning on my horse’s neck, and I heard
something moving in the brush. When I looked, it was Tashina. Maybe
she saw me going after horses, and came down there to see me before
she went away. She was just standing there outside the brush with a
pretty trader’s shawl over her shoulders and up over her head. She was
holding it close about her face, and when I looked at her, she pulled
it closer and looked down at the ground. I was glad to see her, and I
spoke to her the same as to a boy. I joked and said, ‘If you are out
looking for a horse again, here are three real ones.’ I was thinking
of when she caught me for a horse and made me pull her drag. She just
kept on looking at the ground with the shawl tight about her face. And
when I stopped joking, I could hear her saying, ‘_Shonka ’kan, Shonka
’kan_, you made me proud.’ She said it so low that I could just hear
her. Maybe I would have jumped off my horse then; but the three horses
were full of grass and water and felt good, so when they saw some
other horses coming, they neighed and reared. Two of them broke away,
dragging their lariats, bucking and kicking and breaking wind. So I
said, ‘Hold this horse for me while I catch the others.’ It was an old
horse and it did not feel so good as the others. Then I rode off on the
run. The horses were hard to catch again; and when I came back, the
other horse was tied by his lariat to the brush, and Tashina was not
there.”

After a silence, the old man looked up at me and continued: “The bands
moved off that day, and I rode awhile with High Horse and Kicking Bear.
The people were all strung out, and we would ride up and down, talking
to people we knew. I saw Tashina. She was riding an old mare, and when
I came up to her, I thought I would joke with her again so I thanked
her for holding my horse. She did not say anything and did not look up
at me. When the sun was halfway down, I turned back towards our village
with others who had come along.

“We had a big bison hunt that fall, the Oglalas and Sans Arcs together,
and I was not looking for calves any more. When the advisers chose the
young warriors who should kill meat for the old and needy, I was one
they chose. It was a big honor for a young man. We went up to Elk River
[Yellowstone] first. I was out with a scouting party up there, and we
found some stakes driven into the ground. It was where the Wasichus
were going to make another iron road. People had talked much about
this, but I saw the stakes, and we pulled up all we saw and threw them
away. People had talked much about the other iron road too, the one
along the Shell [Platte]. It stopped the bison and cut the herd in two.
Now the Wasichus would build an iron road on the other side of us also.
It was what Wooden Cup told the people long ago. Sometimes when I heard
this talk I was afraid.

“We found a big herd and followed it slowly, killing only what we
wanted. It was a happy time. Before the snow came we were back on
Powder River with more _papa_ and _wasna_ than we could eat. There was
feasting and we were happy. I wish I had some of that meat now. It had
strength in it. If somebody could thank the food, maybe I would be
invited to help.”

“I am not worthy to thank the food, Grandfather,” I said; “but let
us have a feast tomorrow anyway. We can invite two or three of your
friends. I will bring the feast and maybe your daughter will cook it
for us.”

“_Hi-yay!_” the old man exclaimed; “_Washtay!_ Let us have a feast. It
will be good.”




XVII

_The Woman Four Times Widowed_


And so, next day, we feasted--Eagle Voice, No Water, Moves Walking,
and I. It was well past noon when we began, for after delivering the
makings of the feast to the daughter in the little gray log house, I
had gone in search of the guests, taking the son-in-law with me as
a guide. Drifted by-roads, that had ceased to be even the desultory
trails they were at best, led at last to lonely shacks some miles
up the creek valley where the old men lived, or, rather, waited,
in apathetic squalor for nothing in particular. Curiosity, chronic
loneliness and the immemorial lure of a feast, which is more than
eating, assured a ready acceptance of the invitation.

So the four of us were sitting in a close circle with a steaming pot
of veal in the center. _Pae zhuta sapa_ [black medicine] bubbled in
the battered coffee pot on the sheet-iron stove, and there was plenty
of _chun humpi_ [juice of the tree, sugar] to sweeten it. Bread,
cookies, and canned peaches were close at hand. As giver of the feast
and the youngest of the party, I had filled the tin cups with meat and
broth, passed the bread around, and filled other tin cups with coffee
liberally dosed with sugar. I had been greeted by each in turn, “_Ho!_
Grandson, _how_!” To this greeting, Eagle Voice had added: “This is
indeed my grandson. See! He has given me these fine warm moccasins. Now
my toes do not smart when I get wood in the snow.” When the moccasins
had been examined and generously approved, No Water, the older of the
guests, both of whom were younger than Eagle Voice, had a little speech
to make. It was to the effect that I could not help being a Wasichu
any more than he could be other than a Lakota. And, indeed, a little
brown paint on my face and a blanket--“Could not tell the difference,”
he said; “could be Ta Shunka Witko [Crazy Horse].” I thanked him for
the too generous compliment, and his round, bulbous-nosed countenance,
that normally bore a vaguely grieved, apprehensive look, glowed with
good humor. “Maybe Wakon Tonka gave him a Lakota heart,” Moves Walking
added. “Maybe if all Wasichus were so, things would be better.” Wiry
and smallish for a Sioux, a cast in his left eye gave to his sharp,
shriveled face an air of angry intensity; but now even the recalcitrant
off-eye softened a bit with good will.

Having first offered choice morsels of meat to the _wahnagi_, we fell
to serious eating with fingers and sharp knives, the latter for cutting
off the bite. Eagle Voice broke the silence with a remark to the effect
that the meat was tender. “Even I can chew it, and most of my teeth are
uprooted. I might be eating the first young calf I killed when I was a
boy. I think this will make me stronger.”

When it was unanimously agreed that the meat was tender and _washtay_,
we resumed the serious business of eating in silence. At last, the
peaches and cakes having been sampled and approved, the pipe went round
and Eagle Voice spoke: “Our grandson likes to hear stories, and I have
told him many already. There is a story about a dog. I have heard No
Water tell it.”

“_Dho_,” assented No Water; “it is a true story [_woya kapi_]. I can
prove it by a Hunkpapa, much older than I am, who told it to me.”

He searched our faces with his vaguely grieved apprehensive look. There
being no denials, he proceeded: “Sometimes the four-leggeds are wiser
than we two-leggeds. A horse will take his man home in the darkest
night when the man is lost. If you try to lose a dog, he will find you,
even if there is no trail to smell. I do not know how this is, but it
is so. I think they are closer relatives to the spirits than we are.
Sometimes they can talk too, but not many can understand them. This dog
could talk, but only a very little girl could understand, as you will
hear.

“This man’s name was Sitting Hawk. He was not a noted warrior, but he
was a good hunter and took good care of his family, so that they always
had plenty to eat. I did not hear his woman’s name, and I am telling
only what I know. He had two daughters, one of them not quite a woman
yet and the other just a little girl--maybe three winters. They had a
little dog, and the little dog had four pups.

“The scouts had been out looking everywhere, and there were no enemies;
so Sitting Hawk thought he would go hunting and take his family along
to have a good time. He liked to do that. There were horses for all the
family to ride, and the little dog rode on the pony-drag with her pups
when she was not running around smelling things. Afterwhile they came
to a place of green grass with plenty of water and wood, and there they
made a camp. It was good weather, so they were happy there. Sitting
Hawk would go hunting, and his woman and older daughter would stay at
home and dry the meat. The very little girl would play with the four
pups. That is the way it was, for I do not know how many days.

“One day Sitting Hawk came home early and he was very tired. So he ate
and lay down in the tepee to sleep awhile. It was not yet dark, so the
others were all up. The woman and her older daughter were scraping a
deerskin they had staked out on the ground. They did not notice the
little girl much, and the dog was letting the four pups eat. Afterwhile
the little girl came and asked for something to eat. So the older
daughter gave it to her. Soon the little girl came back and asked again
for something to eat. The sister gave her some more meat and said,
“This is all you can have. You will make yourself sick eating so much.’

“So the little girl went away; and this is what she was doing. There
were four men hiding out there in the brush, and one of them could
speak our tongue. Perhaps they were kind to the little girl. It must
have been so, for she was not afraid. When they told her to get them
something to eat and not to tell, that is what she did. Maybe it was
like a game she liked to play all by herself.

“The four men were so hungry that what the little girl brought only
made them hungrier. So they got bolder and came to the tepee where
Sitting Hawk was sleeping, and the mother and older daughter were
scraping the deerskin, and the dog was feeding her pups. When the woman
and daughter saw the four men all at once, they just stared. When the
little dog saw them, she made whimpering noises to the little girl that
said, ‘Why did you feed these men? They are enemies!’ And that scared
the little girl. When Sitting Hawk sat up and saw them, he knew they
were Blackfeet, although one of them spoke our tongue and asked for
food. Sitting Hawk could do nothing, so he said to his woman, ‘Feed
them.’ And she did. When they had eaten, the four lay down inside the
tepee with their bows and arrows beside them. I think they were only
waiting until it got darker. The woman had fed them, and she thought,
I will treat them like relatives. So she took off their moccasins and
rubbed the bottoms of their feet with warm tallow, the way she would do
with her own man when he was tired. This made the men drowsy, and they
fell sound asleep around the fire, being full of meat and weary. They
were _maka mani_ [afoot] and maybe they had walked far.

“Now the little dog began yawning and making strange noises like
talking. The little girl listened, and understood. The dog was saying,
‘Hurry! Take my little ones and run away from here as fast as you can
or you will be killed. These are bad men and enemies.’ This scared the
little girl more than ever, and she whispered to her mother what the
dog said. This scared the woman and she whispered it to Sitting Hawk,
so that he was scared too, for he knew these were Blackfeet. And this
is what he did. He whispered to his family to follow him with what they
could carry. The little girl put the pups inside her dress, and the dog
followed her. When the horses were all ready, Sitting Hawk went back
to the tepee without making any noise. There were some big pieces of
tallow on the ground, and these he put into the red ashes of the fire,
with the men sleeping around it. The tallow sputtered. Then a big flame
leaped up, and Sitting Hawk ran to his horse where the others were all
ready to go. They rode fast, and when they came to the top of a hill
they could see the tepee burning and men running here and there. Maybe
the Blackfeet got burned with hot grease; I do not know. But Sitting
Hawk and his family and the little dog and the pups were safe.”

“_Ho, ho!_” exclaimed Moves Walking and Eagle Voice together by way of
applause.

“It is a true story,” resumed No Water, “and the very old man who told
me--much older than I am--told me more about a dog just to prove it.

“The way I got the story, this man’s wife was well known among the
Lakota. Her name was Loud Woman. Her man, I cannot give his name, for I
have forgotten--but I will call him Good Buffalo. He had two sons and
these had wives. Also he had a daughter and a sister. The daughter was
just a little girl--maybe four or five winters--and she had a little
dog. So it was a family of eight, if you do not count the dog.

“This family was on a hunting party, for the scouts had been looking
around and no enemies were seen. So the councilors allowed small
parties to go out. They were having a good time, and they were moving
back slowly towards the village, which was not far away now and not
very close either.

“One day Good Buffalo told his wife, Loud Woman, to camp in a
certain place with his sister, his little daughter and his two
daughters-in-law. It was a grassy place with plenty of good water and
wood. So there were four women and a little girl in that camp, if you
do not count the little dog. Then Good Buffalo and his two sons went
hunting.

“It was getting to be evening, but it was early yet. The little dog
had been running around here and there, smelling everything to learn
all about the new camping place. This one was a mother dog too, but
she did not have any pups yet. You see, they were all women in that
camp. Afterwhile the little dog was sitting on top of a hill near the
camp, and she was barking. Soon she raised her nose to the sky and
began howling in a queer way. The little girl listened, and all at once
she knew her dog was talking, and this is what the dog was saying:
‘_Wahoo--oo-oo!_ It is going to be terrible! We should run away! It is
going to be terrible! We should run away! _Wahoo-oo-oo!_’

“The little girl ran to her mother and told what she heard the dog
say; but her mother was very busy doing something--and she kept on
doing it--so that she did not hear the little girl very well. Then the
little dog came running down the hill with her tongue hanging and all
out of breath. She leaped up on each one in the camp, wagging her tail,
and yawning with queer noises in her throat. Then she would whine and
yelp. And the mother said, ‘What is the matter with that dog? She acts
crazy!’ And the little girl said, ‘Mother, she is talking. I told you
she was talking. She says it is going to be terrible and we must run
away.’

“While the mother was looking hard at her little daughter and wondering
if she might be making it up, the little dog ran back to the hilltop as
though she might be chasing a rabbit.

“They were all looking up at the little dog, and she was howling that
queer way again, with her nose to the sky. The little girl understood
again, and she began to cry, because she was scared and nobody could
understand. Then the mother said, ‘Why are you crying like this?’ And
the little girl answered, ‘The dog is telling us it is going to be
terrible. My father and brothers are coming and enemies are coming too.
It is going to be terrible. We must run away now, for it is going to be
terrible. My dog is saying it!’ Then she cried harder than ever. And
the mother said, ‘You must stop crying. We must wait until your father
and brothers come back and they will know what to do.’ So they waited.
And the little girl cried, and the little dog mourned on the hill.

“It was just before dark, and the three men came back. Loud Woman told
Good Buffalo about the little girl and what the dog said. But Good
Buffalo was tired from hunting all day, also he was hungry, and he
said: ‘Of course we will go away from here when we are ready. We are
camping here now.’

“Just then the little girl heard the dog talking up there again, and
the dog said, ‘They are here! _Wahoo-oo-oo!_ They are here! You have no
ears, so I am running away! _Wahoo-oo-oo!_’ Then the dog was gone from
the hill, and her howling was getting dimmer.

“Now the little girl was crying so hard she could hardly talk, and she
said, ‘They are here! Enemies are here! My dog said it and she has run
away!’

“So Good Buffalo said to his sons, ‘Let us go and see what all this
is about. We can eat when we get back.’ But they did not go, for just
then there were shots from out in the dark. The camp was surrounded.
The women raised the tremolo. Good Buffalo began a death-song, and the
sons sang with him as they ran out to meet the enemies. They did not
sing long, for they were killed. Then Loud Woman beat her breast and
grasped a butcher knife and went out yelling after the men. And after
her the sons’ wives ran with butcher knives to help their men. Soon
there was only a galloping of horses, and then it was still out in the
night.

“Good Buffalo’s sister and her little niece hid under a buffalo robe
inside the tepee. They thought soon they would be killed and scalped.
But nothing more happened. All the enemies wanted was the horses, and
maybe they thought a big camp was near.

“When it was morning, Good Buffalo’s sister and her little niece went
to find the others. It was terrible--the way the dog said it was going
to be. The three men and the three women were scattered around, all
dead. The sister was shot in the leg--but it was not in the bone, so
she was strong enough to drag the six dead people into the tepee and to
place them side by side. She thought, the enemies may come back and it
will be just as well to lie dead here with the others. And there she
mourned, waiting for death, and the little girl cried and cried.

“When the little dog quit trying to make the people understand, and ran
away, she went straight for the village. When she got there, the people
were sleeping, but she ran around and around among the lodges yelping
and howling, and that set all the other dogs barking. So the people
awoke and ran out of their lodges to see what was happening. The little
dog ran up to some relatives she knew and leaped up on them, whining
and yawning, and making queer noises in her throat. And the relatives
said, ‘This dog belongs to Good Buffalo’s little daughter, and he is
gone hunting with his family. Something bad must have happened to them.
We must go and find them.’

“It was past the middle of the night, but they did not wait until
morning. They formed a war party and started in the direction Good
Buffalo had gone hunting. One of them was carrying the little dog,
and when they had been riding awhile, they put her on the ground. She
whined and whimpered and ran ahead, and the war party followed.

“When it was getting day, they could see that the little dog was
limping and could hardly carry her tail. So one of them picked her up
and let her ride in front of him. Afterwhile, they came to the bottom
of a hill. The little dog leaped down and limped off up the hill,
howling all the way. The party followed her; and when they were at the
top, they saw three tepees in the valley and no smoke coming out. It
was where Good Buffalo’s sister and little daughter were waiting for
death with the six who were dead.”

_Ho, ho! Ho, ho!_ But surely there was more!

There was; but No Water was not in a hurry to divulge it. Adding the
emphasis of silence to the impact of his tale, he searched our faces
for a while with narrowed, penetrating eyes.

“It was not a small war party that followed the little dog,” he
continued. “The way I heard about it, there were forty-two. When they
saw what they saw in that tepee and heard what they heard from Good
Buffalo’s sister, and the little daughter crying and crying, their
hearts were bad, and every warrior of them was like three. So eight of
them started back afoot towards the village with six led horses and
the dead across them, and the sister mourning with her hair cut off,
and the daughter holding her little dog and crying. There was mourning
in the village; but after six days the victory songs were louder.
That was when the war party came back from following the enemies. The
way I heard, they were Assiniboins, and they are like cousins of the
Lakota! Caught them camping and feeling safe. Fifteen scalps that time!
Fifteen, the way I heard! And all the horses, too! It is a true story.
The old man who told it is living yet.”

When all approving comments had been made, I ventured a question.
“Grandfather, I wonder why the little girl could understand and the
others could not.”

“I have thought and thought about that, Grandson,” No Water replied.
“The two-leggeds and four-leggeds are relatives. Maybe a long time
ago they had one tongue. When people are still little, they are
four-leggeds yet, just like their relatives. Maybe they have the same
tongue too when they are little and four-legged. Then when they begin
to be two-leggeds they begin to forget, and they forget more and more.
Maybe the little girl could remember yet. This is only what I have
thought. I do not know.”

Ah-a-a! It was clear that we all felt the cogency of the idea. “And
maybe,” Eagle Voice suggested with his crinkled, quizzical look, “maybe
then when we get three-legged, we are beginning to remember again! Next
time I hear a dog, maybe I can learn something!”

Laughter dwindled to chuckling, and in the following silence the pipe
went round again.

Finally, Moves Walking, regarding us with his self-contradicting
gaze--fierce from the glaring off-eye and friendly from the
other--ended the meditative silence.

“I want to tell a story, but it is not about a dog. It is about a woman
who was four times widowed, because nobody would believe her--just the
way they would not believe the little girl. This also is a true story.
A Sisseton who was _gan inhuni_ [come to old age] told it. I was over
there and this old man told me. His father told him. They are both
dead, and I cannot prove it, but it is true. All of the Sisseton Lakota
know it, so I must be very careful to tell it right.

“This woman, I could say that I know her name, but I have forgotten it
so I will give her the name of Sees-White-Cow. I could say that maybe
she had a dream about seeing a white bison cow and it gave her a power
to see more than other people, because a white cow is _wakon_. But I do
not tell this because I do not know it. I must be careful.

“Sometimes the tribe is all gathered together and sometimes it is
scattered. This happened when the tribe was scattered, and it happened
at a place they call Minnesota. There was a man by the name of Turning
Hawk, and he did not belong to Sees-White-Cow’s band. He had been
wanting her for his woman when the bands were all together, and he
had talked to her under the blanket. When the bands parted and went
different ways, he felt very sad; so he thought he would not stay with
his people. He would follow his girl. At that time there were few
horses, but Turning Hawk had a good one, so he followed where his girl
went.

“Sees-White-Cow was the only girl in the family, but she had two
brothers, both brave warriors. When Turning Hawk came to where she was,
he had a talk with her family, and offered his horse for the girl. She
was the only daughter they had, but they did not have any horse at all;
so Turning Hawk got the girl for his woman. Of course he wanted to go
back to his people with her, and she was willing. So Sees-White-Cow got
everything ready, and because he had traded his horse off, they had to
go _maka mani_.

“They started early in the morning, and on the second day they were
coming down to a lake with trees and brush growing around it. They
thought it was a good place to camp and rest awhile, for the grass was
soft and green under the trees.

“Just then Sees-White-Cow saw something, and she said, ‘Look! There is
a man peeking out from yonder brush!’ Turning Hawk looked and answered,
‘That is not a man; it is an otter.’ And Sees-White-Cow said, ‘Look
there and there! They are men looking out of the brush!’ Still Turning
Hawk could not see, and he said, ‘They are only otter.’ But the woman
was frightened at what she had seen. ‘They are enemies, and I am
going.’ So she dropped her pack and began running back the way they had
come.”

Moves Walking had risen spryly to his feet, hand at brow, the
better to see otter yonder in the brush. Apparently he was less
certain about the otter now, for he glanced nervously back over his
shoulder at the fleeing woman. Suddenly it happened. He clapped his
hands, simulating the sound of bows released and arrows in flight.
“_Whang--whoosh--whang--whoosh--whang--whoosh!_” Tugging at imaginary
shafts in his breast and belly, he slumped slowly, and sat down. After
pausing long enough to emphasize the fatal nature of the incident, he
resumed.

“Turning Hawk was dead, full of arrows; but Sees-White-Cow got away. I
think she was a fast runner. When she came to the band of her people
and told the story, a war party set forth and her two brothers were
in it. They found Turning Hawk butchered like a deer and hung up in a
tree. Afterwhile they caught the Chippewas who did this. There was a
big fight. Many enemies were killed and scalped, and the two brothers
were so brave and got so many scalps that everybody was talking about
them; and there was a big victory dance.

“So the husband was dead, and maybe if he had listened to his woman he
would have lived. Sees-White-Cow cut off her hair and mourned for a
while. But she was a young woman and good to see; so when a brave young
man by the name of Chasing Otter asked for her, she became his woman.
He was a Sisseton.

“Afterwhile the band was camped by a lake, and on the other side of it
there was a high bank with trees and plum brush. Someone said there
were big ripe plums there, so Chasing Otter said to Sees-White-Cow,
‘Why don’t we paddle over there and get us some good ripe plums?’ And
she said that would be good. So they got in their canoe and paddled to
where the ripe plums were. They were having a good time picking the
plums, and then Sees-White-Cow thought she would climb up the bank to
where the plums were even bigger and riper. When she got up there and
looked over, there was a man peeking at her out of the brush. So she
dropped back down the bank and whispered to Chasing Otter, ‘An enemy
peeked at me! Let us get away from here quick!’ Chasing Otter was
eating ripe plums and they tasted very good. So he said, ‘It is only
some other people who are picking some plums for themselves. I will go
and see.’ He started climbing up the bank. But the woman was frightened
and she said, ‘They are enemies! I am going!’ So she leaped into the
canoe and began to paddle away.”

Moves Walking fell to paddling violently, peering anxiously ahead.
Suddenly, he looked back over his shoulder. “The enemies are charging!”
he announced excitedly--“_Wham! Whock!_” He lashed viciously at the
air with an imaginary tomahawk. “Chasing Otter is dead, scalped.
_Whang--whang--whang!_” With left hand extended and right hand at
ear, Moves Walking released arrow after arrow in the direction of the
galloping canoe.

“They shot at Sees-White-Cow, but did not hit her. When she got back
to the village and told the story, a war party set out after the
enemies and her two brothers were in it. When they found the enemies
they were Chippewas again, and there was a big fight. Only a few of the
enemies got away. The brothers were so brave and got so many scalps
that people talked and talked about them, and there was a big victory
dance.

“So the second husband was dead and Sees-White-Cow was a widow again.
She cut her hair and mourned awhile. But she was young and good to see;
and when her hair was beginning to get long, a brave young man, called
Tall Horse, asked for her, and she became his woman. Tall Horse was
from another band and he had been visiting some relatives. He wanted to
go back home with his woman, and Sees-White-Cow was willing, so they
got ready and started out afoot, because there were few horses in those
days.

“They traveled all day, and when it was getting dark they came to a
rough country, hilly and wooded. Sees-White-Cow did not want to lose
another man. She was thinking hard about this, so she chose a place to
camp where they would be hidden and safe. There they made a tepee of
brush and grass. Tall Horse was tired and he went to sleep right after
they had eaten; but Sees-White-Cow could not sleep at all for thinking
and thinking. It was getting near morning when she heard an otter
calling. When she had listened awhile, she knew it was not an otter
at all, but a man making like an otter. Then she heard another--and
another--and another--”

Moves Walking, with his hands cupped behind his ears, listened
breathlessly for some time.

“They were not otter! They were enemies! She could hear the difference.
So she shook her man and whispered, ‘Tall Horse, get up! There are
enemies and I think we are surrounded! We can crawl down the ravine and
escape.’ Tall Horse listened, and when there were more calls, he yawned
and said, ‘They are otter. They are mating and calling to each other.
I am tired, so let me sleep.’ But the woman was frightened and she was
thinking of the other husbands too. ‘Man, I know! They are _not_ otter!
You’d better come if you want to live, for I am going.’ But he yawned
and said, ‘They _are_ otter, and I am sleepy.’ Then he lay down again.

“Sees-White-Cow started crawling down a wash and thought her man would
still believe and follow her when he knew she meant what she said. She
was not far down the wash yet, and some men were coming up it. So she
made herself flat in the grass and they nearly stepped on her. When
they were gone awhile, she listened, and heard Tall Horse yell just
once. After that, men were talking all excited. Then she got up and
started running, for she knew her man was dead up there. Afterwhile,
she could hear men running after her. There was an old moon coming up,
not very bright, but it helped her to see. She came to where there was
a flat place with a big tree standing alone in its shadow. So she ran
into the shadow and made herself flat against the tree. Soon the men
came running by in the dim moonlight. She could hear them puffing. When
they were gone, she ran back down the wash and into a ravine. There she
hid again just as the day was coming. After two more nights she was
back home.

“When the people heard her story, a war party started out after the
enemies, and the two brothers went along. The enemies were Chippewas
again, and there was a big fight. Not one got away. The two brothers of
Sees-White-Cow were braver than ever. They brought back so many scalps
and counted so many coups that people talked and talked about them even
more than before; and there was a big victory dance. Seemed like every
time their sister lost a man, they got more famous.

“So the third husband was dead, and Sees-White-Cow was a widow once
more. She cut her hair again and mourned and mourned, and she did not
want to get married to anybody at all. She always had such bad luck
that she thought she would just live alone and maybe save a few men.
But she was still a young woman, and she was good to see, after her
hair began to get long again.

“There was a brave young man called Red Horse, and he was very
handsome. After a while he wanted Sees-White-Cow for his woman. She
already had three dead husbands and maybe he would be the fourth. So
she would not listen to him for a long time. But her brothers liked Red
Horse, whose father was a chief, and when he offered four good horses
to her father, she forgot about her dead husbands for a while, and took
him.

“Red Horse was from another band and he was visiting relatives. Of
course he wanted to go back home and take his woman along, but she
would not go. She would not even let him go on war parties, and she was
always watching him, for she was afraid something might happen.

“They got along well together that winter, and afterwhile the grass
appeared again and got tall in the valleys. One day Red Horse came
back from taking care of his horses, for he still had some after he
traded off the four; and horses were few in those days. So he said
to his woman, ‘I saw many turnips, and they look good. Why do we not
go out and get ourselves some?’ And Sees-White-Cow said, ‘I think it
would be good to do that.’ So that is what they did. It was not far,
so they went afoot. Many people were out there with their sticks
digging turnips, laughing and having a good time. The scouts had been
all around, and there were no signs of enemies, so the people were not
afraid.

“Sees-White-Cow and her man had some food with them, and when it was
getting evening Red Horse said, ‘Why do we not make a little camp in
the ravine yonder and stay all night? We can peel and braid the turnips
we have, and in the morning we can dig some more.’ The woman was
afraid, for she was thinking about her other husbands. She said, ‘There
may be enemies.’ But Red Horse laughed and said, ‘The scouts have been
looking all around, and there are no enemies here. I think it will be
good to camp and braid the turnips.’ Sees-White-Cow did not want to do
this, but afterwhile she gave in. So they made a little shelter with
their turnip sticks and a blanket thrown over these. When they were
through eating and braiding turnips by their little fire, they lay down
to sleep under the blanket. But Sees-White-Cow could not sleep at all
for thinking and thinking. Afterwhile an otter whistled--then another
one whistled--then another.”

Moves Walking paused, listening tensely, mouth open, hands cupped
behind his ears.

“Of course,” he continued, “otter are mostly in a lake, but she heard
this whistling and she was frightened. These were enemies! She could
tell the difference. So she shook Red Horse and whispered, ‘Enemies!
Listen!’ Red Horse was only half awake, and when there was another
whistle, he said, ‘Foolish woman! That is an otter! Do not bother me!’
But Sees-White-Cow was more frightened than ever. She had heard two
dead husbands talk the same way. So she said, ‘They are enemies! I am
going!’ And she started crawling away. All at once two men were coming,
bent over and looking all around. She flattened herself in the grass,
and they went by. Soon she heard just one big yell. Then she got up and
ran towards camp as fast as she could.”

At this point, No Water grunted and Moves Walking paused to scan his
friend’s face, one eye glaring fiercely, the other questioning. “Four
dead husbands,” said No Water with his grieved, apprehensive look. He
held up four fingers. “One, two, three, four. How many more husbands
has that woman got?”

Eagle Voice chuckled, and Moves Walking, ignoring the question,
continued. “When the people heard about this, a war party started out
to catch the enemies and the two brothers went along. There was a big
fight and nearly all the Chippewas got killed and scalped. The brothers
were braver than ever before, and I can not say how many scalps they
got, because I do not know that, and I must be careful when I tell
this true story. All the people talked and talked about them again,
and by now I think they must have been _wichasha yatapika_, maybe
_akichitas_, or even councilors. I think if Sees-White-Cow got a few
more husbands those brothers would be head chiefs!

“Sees-White-Cow cut off her hair another time, and mourned and mourned.
Seemed like every time she got a husband it was the same as murdering
him herself. So she was never going to do that again as long as she
lived. She was going to live alone after that.

“Afterwhile her hair was getting long again--”

“Ah-a-a-ah!” commented No Water.

“--and she was still not old,” continued Moves Walking. “Also she
was good to see. About that time a very handsome young warrior came
visiting his relatives, and I do not know how many horses he had, but
they were many. This handsome young man’s name was Flies Back, and he
wanted Sees-White-Cow for his woman. I think he had not heard this
story. So when he offered six horses, her father thought maybe it would
be better for her this time; also there were few horses in those days.
Her two brothers liked Flies Back and they coaxed her to take him,
so that she would not be living alone. Maybe they wanted to get more
famous, but I do not know this, and I do not tell it.

“So afterwhile Sees-White-Cow gave in, and they got along well together
all that winter. Then it was spring and the ducks were coming back.

“One day Flies Back said to his woman, ‘There are many ducks on the
lake. Why do we not go out and get some for ourselves? We can go out
this evening and make a camp near the water. Then when it is early
morning we can get some for ourselves. I am hungry for ducks.’ When
he said that, Sees-White-Cow began to remember, and she did not want
to go. But she was hungry for ducks too, and she thought it might be
all right this time. So they went and made a good warm camp close to
this lake, and Flies Back went hunting, crawling through the grass and
reeds. While he was gone, Sees-White-Cow kept looking all around, for
she was afraid.” Moves Walking, with hand at brow, peered anxiously
about him for a while and No Water soberly joined him in the silent
search. “All at once,” resumed Moves Walking with a start, “she saw a
man run from behind a tree and disappear behind some brush.”

“_Ho--ho!_” exclaimed Eagle Voice.

“--saw a man running and hiding behind some brush,” Moves Walking
continued, “and she was more frightened than she had ever been. About
that time Flies Back came with two ducks, and Sees-White-Cow told
him about the man. ‘It is only somebody out getting some ducks for
himself,’ Flies Back said. ‘There are no enemies here. The scouts have
been out looking all around.’

“Sees-White-Cow thought maybe her husband was right this time, and she
was hungry for ducks. So they cooked the ducks and ate them, and then
it was dark, so they lay down to sleep.

“But Sees-White-Cow got to remembering, and she could not sleep at
all. I did not tell that they had a little dog with them, but I tell
it now. And when the night was old, the little dog began growling and
barking. Sees-White-Cow knew all at once that it was an enemy she had
seen and no duck hunter. So she shook her man and whispered ‘Enemies!
We are surrounded! We must run away from here!’ She got up and started
running. He got up and started running too, but he ran the other way.
When he came to the village, Sees-White-Cow was not there. He ’woke the
people, and when they heard, a war party got together and started after
the enemies. The two brothers went along. In the early morning they
found Sees-White-Cow, and she was not going to have any more husbands.
The little dog was curled up beside her whining, and she was scalped.
Maybe she was hiding, and the little dog ran to where she was and
barked, so that the enemies came and found her. I do not know this, and
that is why I do not tell it.

“It was Chippewas again, and there was a big fight. The two brothers
couped and killed and scalped I do not know how many. Big victory
dance! People talk and talk about it. Maybe the two brothers were made
chiefs that time. I do not know, and I must be careful when I tell this
true story. The Sisseton who told me was _gan inhuni_, and he heard it
from his father who was _gan inhuni_ also.”

“_Ho-ho! Ho-ho! Ho-ho!_” No Water and Eagle Voice applauded in unison.
“_Washtay!_” remarked No Water. “One husband got away that time!
_Washtay!_”

“It was not so,” said Moves Walking. “Brothers were very sad. Had bad
hearts. Killed Flies Back for running away from their sister. All dead!
Five!” Holding up his spread right hand, he slowly counted with a
careful forefinger.

Eagle Voice chuckled, and No Water, his grieved look intensified, shook
his head sadly in silence.




XVIII

_Falling Star, the Savior_


Having filled the coffee cups and set the meat pot within easy reach of
the guests, I went outside to get a chunk of cottonwood, for a chill
had crept into the tepee. Under a dull sky the afternoon was waning
fast, and already the edge of the still air was sharpening with the
approach of night. While chopping, it occurred to me that we would soon
be sitting in the dark, so I went to the little log house and borrowed
an oil lamp--the only one, but freely given. The family would go to bed
soon, the daughter explained, and it would not be needed. Also, if the
old men did not want to go home, they could sleep on the floor by the
stove, and go home in the morning.

When I re-entered the tepee, Eagle Voice was lying down, his knees
drawn up, an arm across his face. Apparently he was asleep. No Water
and Moves Walking were having a friendly argument between mouthfuls.
No Water was convinced that it happened in the winter when the four
Crows were killed, while Moves Walking held out for the winter when the
tree fell on the old woman. When I had put the cottonwood chunk on the
embers and placed the lighted lamp on the ground near the stove, it
soon became clear to me that both contenders had the best of reasons,
with a glaring eye to reinforce them on the one hand, and a deeply
grieved look on the other.

What it was that had happened, whenever it had, was not revealed. Eagle
Voice sat up, brushed the straggling gray hair from his eyes, grinned
pleasantly, and said: “_Kola_, it was not the winter when the four
Crows were killed; it was not the winter when the tree fell on the old
woman. It was the winter when the Shoshonis were chased over the bank;
and that is a story I could tell.”

“_Ah-a-a-a!_” agreed the erstwhile contenders in unison. Was not Eagle
Voice much older than they?

When we had eaten in silence for a while, Eagle Voice fumbled in his
long tobacco sack, charged his pipe and lighted it. “_Dho_,” he said,
starting the pipe on its rounds; “I could tell the story about the time
when the Shoshonis were chased over the bank, for I was there. Maybe
I will tell it to my grandson here, but I will not tell it now.” He
searched our faces with the amused, crinkled look about his eyes. “I do
not want to kill any more people today. Too many dead husbands around
here already.” No Water slapped his knee and bellowed with laughter.
Moves Walking fixed us in turn with the glaring eye. “It is a true
story!” he protested; the good eye belying its fellow with a gleam of
amusement. “_Wo-ya kapi!_ I can prove it!”

“_Dho!_ It is a true story, _kola_,” resumed Eagle Voice soberly, “and
it is a good story; but there were thirty Shoshonis, and I am full of
good tender meat. I do not feel like killing so many more people today.
It is getting dark, so I can tell an _ohunka kapi_ [fairy tale the old
people make up]. If I tell it in the daytime, maybe I get long hair
all over my backside. That is what I heard my grandfather say. But it
is getting dark now, so I am not afraid of that.” Having shared in the
chuckling of his hearers over the hoary joke, he continued. “Maybe the
story was true so long ago that we cannot believe it any more. I do not
know. It is about Falling Star.”

“Ho, ho!” exclaimed No Water and Moves Walking together. “_Washtay!_”
said the latter. “My grandmother told it to me when I was very little.
There were two girls and they married stars.” “_Dho_,” No Water agreed,
“they did that. I think it was my grandfather told me first. And the
girls fell through the sky.”

“One girl,” corrected Moves Walking.

“You are in a hurry to tell my story for me, _kola_,” said Eagle Voice;
“but I am going to tell it myself, and now I will tell it.

“This happened so long ago that I think the oldest person who ever told
it had heard it from his grandfather. So I cannot prove it. In that
time there was a big village, and I think the people were not even
Lakotas yet.”

No Water and Moves Walking sat with their hands on their knees, leaning
towards the story-teller with eager expectancy, something child-like in
their age-scarred faces.

“--and in this village there were two girls who were just beginning to
be women; and these girls were sisters.”

“_Ah-a-a!_” agreed No Water and Moves Walking, sharing the pleasure of
recognition.

“They were pretty girls and they were sisters. So one summer night
when the wind was still, and most of the people were sleeping, and
no dog barked, and the sky was full of stars, these two girls were
not sleeping. They were outside in the warm, still night, lying back
against the side of their tepee and looking up at the sky. They were
looking at the star nations, and they were saying to each other they
wondered how far it was up yonder, how many sleeps it would take to get
there, and how pleasant it would be to live in that country among those
bright, happy people.

“Then they just lay back against the tepee for a while, and I think by
now they were looking at the star nation we call Carrier [Big Dipper].
Then the older sister yawned and said to the younger sister, ‘Do you
see that big star up there--the biggest one?’ And her sister yawned and
said, ‘Yes, I see it.’ And the older sister said, ‘That is the very
star I like best of all.’ And the younger sister said, ‘Can you see
that small star not far away from the big star?’ And her sister said,
‘Yes, I can see it.’ And the younger sister said, ‘That is the very one
I like best of all the stars.’

“So they yawned and were still for a while, just looking at the two
stars they liked best of all. Then the older sister said, ‘I think I
will marry my star if you will marry your star.’ And the younger sister
said, ‘Yes, let us do that; but I am so sleepy now, I think I will not
get married tonight.’ And the older sister said, ‘I too am sleepy; I
can hardly keep my eyes open. We can dream about our stars tonight,
and then we can marry them when we are not so sleepy.’ And the younger
sister said, ‘Yes, we can do that.’

“So the two sleepy sisters started walking around the side of the tepee
to the opening, for they wanted to go to bed.”

“Ho, ho!” exclaimed No Water and Moves Walking, keenly aware of what
was about to happen.

“_Sh-h-h!_” Eagle Voice raised an admonishing forefinger and continued
slowly, speaking scarcely above a whisper. “They were in front of the
flap and the older sister was reaching to lift it. But she did not lift
it.”

At this point the teller ceased abruptly, with a surprised stare into
vacancy. It was clear by the faces of the three old men that the tale
was still unfolding in the tense silence.

“Two men were standing there,” Eagle Voice continued, speaking low and
with an air of mystery. “They were men, but they were not like other
men, for they made the light they lived in, and there was no shadow
where they stood. This light was soft and kind, and when the two men
smiled, it spread about the sisters so that they were not afraid at
all. Then they saw that one man was young and one was very old. The
younger one was taller than any man the girls had ever seen; but the
older one was even taller. I think he stood above the other like a
tree, and the light he made was that much brighter. He was old, old;
but he was young too. I think he was much older than the other because
he had been young so much longer. I think there are no canes where
these men came from, no wrinkled skins, and no uprooted teeth, and no
white hairs.

“Then the older man said to the older sister, ‘We heard you talking,
and I heard you say that you would marry me; so I am here.’ Then the
younger man spoke to the younger sister, and said, ‘We heard you
talking, and I heard you say that you would marry me; so I am here.’
The girls could not say anything at all, but their hearts were singing
in their breasts, and the two men heard. So the older man said to the
older sister, ‘Put your arms about my neck, and we will go.’ And the
younger man said to the younger sister, ‘Put your arms about my neck
and we will go.’

“That is what the sisters did, and so they went.

“It was like eagles flying, only faster, higher than eagles fly. And
all at once there was no village down below and no earth. There was
only air--blue air, blue air; and nothing anywhere but two men made of
light and two girls with their arms about the necks of those, flying
fast and higher, very fast and very high. Then all at once there were
shining villages of star people on a wide blue prairie, and from all
the villages came singing as the fliers passed, for all the people
there were happy. And afterwhile there was a village bigger than all
the others in that wide blue country, and there the flying men of light
came swooping down like eagles to their nests.

“Then the older star-man said to the older sister, ‘You are my wife
now, and I have brought you home.’ And the younger star-man spoke to
the younger sister, saying, ‘You are now my wife and I have brought you
home.’

“The sisters did not say anything at all, but their hearts were
singing. And all at once the whole hoop of the village about them was
one great song, and all the bright star people came from every side,
singing together as they came to welcome their great head chief and his
son with their new wives. And the singing was like many happy colors in
the brightness of that place.

“So there was dancing as for a great victory, and there was feasting.
Four days and nights the people danced and feasted and were glad.”

The teller ceased, gazing out and upward as into wide blue air. The two
silent collaborators, with their hands upon their knees, gazed also in
the same direction, like children lost in wonder. Were they really only
feigning for the sly fun of it, or had they for the moment lost the
burden of their years?

When, at length, it seemed the tale was waiting for the dancing and
the feasting to be ended yonder, No Water turned suddenly upon Eagle
Voice with his grieved and anxious look. “_Turnips!_” he prompted in an
explosive whisper. Moves Walking fixed a glaring eye upon him, and with
a raised forefinger Eagle Voice deplored the interruption. “_Sh-h-h-h!_”

But the spell was broken, and the tale continued. “So the two sisters
lived with their husbands among the bright star people, and they were
happy. Then one day it was the time when the turnips are getting to
be good, and there were many growing on the wide blue prairie. So the
older sister said to the younger sister, ‘I think my husband would like
to eat turnips, so I will go out and dig some.’ And the younger sister
said, ‘I think my husband likes them too, so I will go along with you,
and we will dig some.’ Then they made themselves two sharp sticks and
went out to dig the turnips that were growing big and juicy on the wide
blue prairie.

“Many other women were out there getting turnips for their husbands,
and they were all happy and joking together as they dug. One of these
was a wise and good old woman, and the great head chief was her son. So
she came over to the older sister and said, ‘Daughter, you are already
big in the belly, and I see it will not be long until I shall have a
grandchild. So I wish you would be very careful, and do not press the
stick against your belly when you are digging, for that might hurt the
baby.’ And the older sister said, ‘I will be careful, Mother.’ And she
was.

“But it was much harder to dig the turnips if she did not lean against
the stick, for then she had to do it all with her arms. She had to
chop with the stick, and it was not easy to make the sharp end go deep
enough. So she was chopping harder and harder, harder and harder,
harder and--”

The tale stopped with a shock of surprise. _Ah-h-h-h!_ Open-mouthed,
wide-eyed, No Water and Moves Walking stared appalled upon an
approaching catastrophe.

“Chop--chop--chop,” the teller resumed slowly, wielding an imaginary
turnip stick. “Chop--chop--chop--_chop!_ It was too hard that time,
and all at once the blue ground broke wide open right under the older
sister, and she fell head-first through the hole. The younger sister
screamed and came running, and all the other women screamed and came
running; but they could not do anything at all. So they all crowded
around the hole in the sky prairie and looked and looked. They saw the
older sister tumbling over and over, over and over, getting smaller
and smaller, smaller and smaller as she fell. And then they saw
nothing at all.

“It was a long way down to the earth, and I cannot say how many sleeps
the older sister fell. But afterwhile she got here, and when she struck
the ground she broke wide open, pop!--just like a seed-pod--and a baby
boy rolled out on some thick, soft bunch grass that was growing there.
I think some buffalo manure made the grass soft and thick in that
place, so the baby boy did not get hurt at all.”

“That will be _me_!” exclaimed No Water, with an air of gloating
triumph. “No, it will be _me_!” challenged Moves Walking, the off-eye
glaring, although the rivals were grinning at each other. Clearly, the
explosive interruption at this point in the story was a traditional
obligation of the co-operative hearer.

Eagle Voice raised a conciliating forefinger and smiled benignly upon
the two, like a kindly grandfather silencing over-eager children. “It
was a good day,” he continued; “and so the baby was just lying there
in the bunch of thick soft grass with his thumb in his mouth. And
afterwhile there was a magpie who saw something and came to look. This
was an old-woman magpie, and she walked around and around the baby,
with her head on one side and then on the other, for I think she had
never seen anything like this before.”

[With cocked heads, the three collaborators curiously examined the
baby in the grass for a few moments of silence.] “But a magpie knows
everything, and when this one had looked for a while, she said to
herself, ‘This is a baby of the two-legged people without wings. It
has four legs, but it is not a four-legged because it has no fur, and
all four-leggeds have fur.’ Then she said to the baby, ‘You _are_ a
fine big baby, and you _are_ a boy too, aren’t you?’ And the baby said,
‘_Goo-oo_,’ like that. And the magpie said, ‘But how are you going to
live, for I see your mother lying dead over there?’ Then the baby took
his thumb out of his mouth and began to cry.

“This made the old-woman magpie feel very sad, and she said, ‘Somebody
must come and take care of this baby that has no mother. I cannot,
because I have to fly around and talk so much that I could never take
care of him. And if I did not fly around, telling people everything,
how would they ever know anything?’

“So she flew away; and as she flew around all over the prairie, she
kept crying out to the four-leggeds and the wings of the air and those
that crawl on their bellies in the grass, and she said, ‘Come quick!
Come quick! There is a two-legged baby without a mother! Come quick
and help! Come quick and help! There is a baby without a mother!’

“So in a little while all the four-leggeds and all the wings of the air
and all of those that crawl on their bellies in the grass were going
to see the baby without a mother. They were coming from all sides,
galloping and crawling and flying; and when they came to where the baby
was lying in the soft, thick grass, they made a big hoop all around it.
Everybody was there except the finned people. They had to stay in the
streams and lakes, and that is why they did not come to see.

“Then the old-woman magpie stood beside the baby in the center of the
hoop of peoples, and she made her voice big and sent it forth like
this: ‘Wings of the air, four-leggeds, and belly-crawlers, you have
come to see the baby without a mother. Here you see him lying all alone
with no one to care for him. Will you let him die here on the prairie?’

“Then she pointed her long nose at the bison bull, and said, ‘You are
the biggest and strongest of all the four-leggeds. Will you not take
care of this baby?’ And the bison bull said in his voice like thunder,
‘My wives and I would like to take this baby, but we have no tepee at
all to live in, and the baby would die.’

“Then the magpie-woman pointed her sharp nose at the bull elk, and
said, ‘Elk, you are almost as strong as the bison, and you could carry
the baby in your antlers. Will you take care of him?’ And the elk said,
‘Even though I am stronger than the bison, I cannot take care of this
baby, for I have no tepee but the sky.’

“So the magpie-woman spoke to the grizzly bear, and said, ‘Bear, you
are very big and very strong, and you have a warm den to sleep in.
_You_ could look after this baby that has no mother.’ And the bear
said, ‘I wish I could take this baby, for he is much like a cub, except
that he has no fur. Maybe he would get some fur afterwhile. But I
cannot take this baby. You all know I am a very hard sleeper, and when
I go to sleep I do not ’waken for a long while. Who would feed this
baby while I was sleeping? He would starve before I could ’waken; or
maybe I would roll over on him in my sleep.’

“Then the old-woman magpie spoke to each of the other four-leggeds in
turn, the bigger ones before the smaller ones. They all felt sorry for
the baby without a mother, but not one of them could take him. The wolf
and his wife had too many children already. The jack rabbit and his
wife also had all the children they could feed. The gopher’s home was
too small, and the mouse’s was even smaller.

“Just then the magpie saw the snake standing up on his tail, so that
he could look upon the baby without a mother. She could see that there
were tears in the snake’s eyes, and he was moving his head back and
forth in sorrow. So the magpie thought, ‘Here at last is one who will
take the baby,’ and she said, ‘Snake, can you not take this baby into
a cave somewhere and look after him?’ And the snake said, “My wife and
I would like to have the baby, for often we are lonely. We could bring
him frogs and mice to eat, and we could scare all the bad people away
so that he would be safe. But we must not take this baby. Nobody likes
us, and it would be bad for him to grow up with us.’ Then all at once
he was afraid again, and he slid into the grass and flowed away like
fast water, making a sound like _sho--sho--sho sho--sho sho_.

“So the old-woman magpie pointed her sharp nose towards the
wings-of-the-air who were sitting together on their side of the hoop
of peoples. And when she saw the eagle, she said, ‘Eagle, you are the
great head chief of all the wings of the air, and you always make a
kill. You are so strong that the baby could ride on your back between
your wide wings. I am sure _you_ can raise this baby that has no
mother.’ And the eagle said, ‘Yes, I am chief of all the winged ones
because I am the strongest of them all, and I always make a kill; but I
cannot take this baby, for I live in such high places that it is always
cold up there, and the baby would get sick and die.’

“While the eagle was talking, everybody was very still, and when he
was through, nobody said anything for a while. You could hear the baby
whimpering in the grass. Then all at once the wren sent forth a small
thin voice, and she said, ‘If I were as big as some of the winged ones
around here, I myself would take this baby to raise, for it makes me
sad to hear him crying for his mother. Small as I am, I would take him
anyway, but my tepee is so little I could never get him into it. I
think Hawk could take him. _He_ is big and strong, and _he_ does not
live high up where it is cold.’

“When the tiny oriole heard the wren putting it out so boldly, it made
her brave too, and she sent forth _her_ thin little voice. ‘I am small
too, and little as _I_ am, I would take this baby; but my tepee is so
narrow that even I can hardly get into it. I too think Hawk should
raise the baby. He can always get something good to eat.’

“‘_Who! Who! Who!_’ cried the owl, which is the same as when we say
‘_how! how!_’ And the bluejay screamed, ‘_hiyay! hiyay!_’ It pleased
them to hear the smallest of the winged ones making so brave.

“Eagle turned his head slowly and looked hard at Wren and Oriole. Hawk
turned his head slowly and looked hard at Wren and Oriole. All the
people were looking too, and they saw Wren and Oriole fluffing up their
feathers and pulling their heads in, the way they do when they are
cold; for all at once they did not feel brave at all.”

The story-teller paused, turned his head slowly, and cast a penetrating
hawk-stare upon No Water and Moves Walking; whereat they hunched their
shoulders, drew in their heads, and were frightened little birds, but
they were grinning. With an approving grandfatherly smile, Eagle Voice
continued:

“When Hawk had looked hard for awhile, he said, ‘You know I have
no relatives. You know I do not belong with anyone. You know that
everybody is my enemy. How could I raise this helpless being with no
wings?’

“Nobody said anything at all for a while, and it was so still you could
hear the baby whimpering in the soft bunch grass. Then the old-woman
magpie said, ‘Will nobody take this baby to raise? Will he die here on
the prairie all alone?’

“When the baby heard this, he began crying very hard. So the prairie
hen felt very sorry for the baby, and she said, ‘_I_ think Mudswallow
ought to take this baby. She has a good home and she daubs it up so
that it is safe and warm. I think she could raise this baby.’

“And Mudswallow answered, ‘It is true that I have a good snug home, for
I am very careful how I build it. But it is high up on the bank, and
even if I should build it big enough, the baby would fall out and be
killed.’

“‘_Heh--heh--heh! Heh--heh--heh!_’ said the kingfisher. He was feeling
very sad, for it seemed that nobody at all was going to help the baby
live. And when it was so still that there was nothing to hear but the
baby crying in the soft grass, the kingbird sent forth a voice: ‘I
know who can raise this baby! Meadowlark can do it! He can build a big
nest around where the baby is now lying! It will be no trouble at all!
Meadowlark is just the one to raise this baby!’

“When the people heard this, they all made the happy noises they knew
how to make, and for a while the hoop of peoples was one big sound.
Then when they were still again, Meadowlark hopped out to the center of
the hoop and sent forth a very kind voice that was like little waters
falling into a quiet pool, and he said, ‘Kingbird is right. My wife
and I can take care of the baby, and we will. I did not say so before,
because so many here are greater than I am. We can build a big soft
nest all around the baby where he is lying, and we can bring him plenty
of seeds and worms to eat. It will be no trouble at all. Our children
can play with him, and he will make our home happier.’

“When Meadowlark had said this, his wife sang a song of joy she knew,
and it was like sweet water gurgling when everything is thirsty. Then
the wings of the air and the four-leggeds and the crawlers in the
grass sent forth one great voice--squawking and squealing, chirping
and screaming, barking and howling and whistling; and the bison cows
lowed and the bulls thundered. That is how glad they were to know the
baby would not die all alone on the prairie. They were so glad, I do
not know how far away they could be heard; but all the finned peoples
heard, and leaped and glittered in all the lakes and streams. I think
the star nations also heard and began singing together all over the
heavens; but this I do not know, because they are so far away.

“So that is how it was; and soon the hoop was broken up and all the
peoples scattered to their homes, galloping and flying and crawling.
And the baby went to sleep with his thumb in his mouth.

“Of course, old-woman magpie could not go away with the others. She had
to stay there awhile and help. So she sat on top of some brush near by
and told Meadowlark and his wife what they must do and how they must
do it. Sometimes she would scream at them and say, ‘_No_, not _that_
grass! It is not soft enough for the baby! And you are not making the
nest big enough! Don’t you know this baby is going to grow? _Bigger!
Softer!_’ All the while Meadowlark and his wife went on building the
nest around the baby the way they learned from their grandparents.
But they were very kind people, and sometimes they would say, ‘Yes,
Grandmother--you know best, Grandmother--we thank you for helping us,
Grandmother.’ And so afterwhile the nest was finished, and the baby
sleeping in it with his thumb in his mouth.

“Then old-woman Magpie hopped down and walked around the nest, turning
her head this way and that way to see what she thought of it. And
afterwhile she said, ‘It is not built as I would build it, but it will
do. Now you must take care of the mother’s body lying over there. You
are not strong enough to build a scaffold for it, so you must cover it
up with grasses and little stones; for if you do not, her spirit will
make trouble for you. And when you have done this, one of you must
mourn all night by the body while the other watches the nest. I cannot
stay longer to help you, for I have so much talking to do in so many
places that I shall never get it all done if I do not hurry.’

“So old-woman magpie flew away as fast as she could flap her wings.

“The sun was nearly down. It was very still in that place. For a while
Meadowlark and his wife stood beside the soft, warm nest, just looking
at their big new baby sleeping. And afterwhile Meadowlark said, ‘He
must have a name. What do you think would be a good name?’ And his
wife said, ‘Let us call him Falling Star.’ And her husband said, ‘That
is a very good name. I like it. So let us call him Falling Sta.’ And
they were so happy that they forgot about the work they had to do, and
they began to sing together like little waters falling into a quiet
pool. You can hear them do that yet if you listen in the evening.

“Then all at once they remembered what they must do next. So they began
working as fast as they could, carrying grasses and little stones to
cover the mother’s body. When the work was done, it was night.

“Then Meadowlark and his wife took some bison tallow that they had for
their children, and this they mixed with red clay to make sacred paint.
With this paint they greased the baby all over, and when this was done,
they fed him some fine big earth worms that lived down by the creek,
also some seeds that they had chewed to make them soft. The baby felt
so good he went to sleep again right away. And all the star nations
came forth to look upon the baby sleeping in his soft, warm nest, and
the mother meadowlark watching there, while her husband sat beside the
mound of grass and little stones and mourned in his throat.

“Meadowlark and his wife had been working very hard, and I think they
could not stay awake long. The morning star came to see, and they
were sleeping. He stood higher and higher, but they did not ’waken.
The star nations were very tired from watching all night, so they all
began going to sleep--the little ones first and then the big ones. The
morning star got sleepy too and went back to his tepee.

“Then all at once the mother meadowlark awoke, and the young day was
everywhere. She looked first at the nest. Then she screamed. It was
empty. She screamed and screamed until her husband awoke and came
hopping and flopping his wings. ‘What is the matter? What is the
matter?’

“‘Our baby is gone! Our big new baby is gone! Somebody has taken
Falling Star! What shall we do? Eagle has stolen him, or maybe Hawk!
What shall we do?’ The mother meadowlark was crying very hard.

“Meadowlark was so frightened that he could hardly talk, but he had to
make brave, so he said, ‘No, no! Eagle did not want him. Hawk did not
want him. Nobody stole him, because we are the only ones who want him.
Stop crying, and let us look around.’

“So they began looking around, and all at once they were very happy
again. For over yonder, not very far away, Falling Star was sitting up
among some flowers that were growing there, and he was playing with the
flowers and saying ‘_Goo-oo_’ to them.”

“_Hiyay! hiyay!_” applauded No Water and Moves Walking, mindful of
their privilege and duty as sympathetic hearers. The tale continued:

“When Meadowlark and his wife hopped over there in a hurry, they could
hardly believe it. ‘See how our Falling Star has grown!’ the wife
cried, flapping her wings. ‘He is nearly twice as big as he was!’ cried
the husband, flapping his wings. Then they were so happy that they
raised their heads and sang--like two little waters falling together
into a quiet pool. And the young day was still to listen. You can hear
them yet, if you listen in the still morning.

“Then Meadowlark said to his wife, ‘Woman, this baby is getting too big
to live on worms and seeds. Already he can crawl, and tomorrow maybe he
will walk. I heard Grandmother Magpie say once that two-leggeds without
wings like to eat bison and are always hunting them. So I think I will
go hunting today.’ And that is what he did.

“The day was young when he started. He hunted and hunted, and the sun
was above him. He hunted and hunted, and he saw many bison, many, many;
but they were very big and he had no bow and arrows, so he went on
hunting. The sun was halfway down, and still he was hunting. Then all
at once he saw a dead bison calf, and wolves and crows feasting there.
So he thought, ‘I am small. If I can sneak in there where they are
feasting, maybe nobody will notice me and I can get some bison meat for
the baby.’

“So he sneaked through the grass, making himself even smaller than
before, until he was right in among the feasters with their bloody
beaks and muzzles. He was afraid, but he had to feed the baby. The
wolves were snarling and snapping at each other while they ate, and the
crows were quarreling because they all wanted the pieces of meat the
others had. While they were doing this, Meadowlark sneaked between the
legs of the wolves until he was inside the dead calf that the wolves
had torn open. And right in front of him was a big fat liver!”

“_Washtay!_” exclaimed No Water and Moves Walking. “_Washtay!_”

“Meadowlark had to hurry, because the crows might notice him in there
and kill him. So he pecked and pecked as hard and fast as he could;
and in a little while he had cut off a big chunk of fat liver. But how
was he going to get out of there with the liver? He was thinking about
this, and then all at once he could hear the wolves fighting harder
than ever outside, and the crows flying about with whistling wings and
loud battle cries. He peeked outside, and all the wolves were snarling
and yelping and snapping and rolling over each other. Some of them were
trying to run away with the calf’s entrails, and the others wanted them
too. So there was a big fight, and I think the crows were cheering the
four-leggeds. Maybe if they all killed each other, the crows would
have more meat for themselves, and that is why they were cheering.

“Meadowlark thought it was a good time to sneak out of there. So he
began pulling the piece of fat liver a little at a time. Nobody noticed
him. He pulled it a little more. Everybody out there was fighting and
yelling so hard that nobody knew Meadowlark was around. So he got a
good hold on the piece of fat liver, jumped outside with it, and began
flying. The liver was so heavy that he could hardly keep above the
ground; but he thought about the baby and how glad his wife would be,
and that made him stronger. Maybe it was good that he had to fly so
low. Maybe if he had been stronger, the crows would have seen him.”

“Maybe the star people helped him with their power,” No Water remarked.
“_Dho_,” agreed Moves Walking with a solemn air of finality, “the star
people helped.”

“I think that is how it was,” Eagle Voice continued with a
grandfatherly smile; “the star people gave him power. But he was so
small that he had to stop often and pant. Then he would fly some more;
then he would stop and pant awhile.

“Then when the sun had just gone under, Meadowlark got back home with
the fat liver--”

“_Hiyay! hiyay! hiyay!_” Slapping their knees, the collaborators
applauded, like delighted children, grinning at each other the while.

--“And his wife was so happy that she made a new song for her
happiness. From the top of the brush near by she sang her new song, and
it was like this.” Eagle Voice fitted the Sioux words, meaning “calf
liver rich,” to the familiar notes of the meadowlark’s song.

    “_Pin-hin-chla pinapin!_
    _Pin-hin-chla pinapin!_

“That is the song she made for her happiness, and the prairie was still
to hear it. If you listen in the quiet evening you can hear it yet.

    “_Pin-hin-chla pinapin!_
    _Pin-hin-chla pinapin!_

“So they had a big feast, and the baby ate most of the liver. After
this, they greased the baby all over again with the sacred paint, and
pushed the soft nest close about him, and he slept.

“Next morning Mother Meadowlark awoke early, just when the morning star
had come to see. She looked first at the nest, and again it was empty.
But she did not scream that time! Instead, she looked around; and what
do you think she saw?”

“Walking already,” said No Water eagerly.

“_Dho_,” continued Eagle Voice. “That is what he was doing down by the
creek; and where he walked it was like day, for a light came out of him
all over.

“So Mother Meadowlark whispered to her husband, ‘Wake up and see! Wake
up and see!’ And when he awoke and saw, they both just stood there
looking hard, with their beaks wide open. For they did not see any baby
at all. They saw a fine big boy walking there, and he was making a
little day about him where he walked.

“When the morning star went back to his tepee and all the star nations
slept and the sun came, they ate what was left of the liver. Then
Falling Star spoke for the first time, and he said, ‘I think I will
make me a bow and some arrows today.’ And he walked away down the creek.

“Meadowlark and his wife waited and waited for their boy to come back
home. And when the sun was halfway down the heavens, Mother Meadowlark
began to cry, and she said, ‘I am afraid something has happened to our
boy, and he will never come home.’ But her husband said, ‘Nothing will
hurt him. Did you not see the little day he made where he walked? He is
_wakon_ and nothing can hurt him.’

“And Meadowlark was right; for all at once they saw Falling Star coming
up the creek. And what do you think he was bringing?”

“Muskrat or maybe rabbit!” exclaimed Moves Walking.

Eagle Voice shook his head.

“A big fat beaver?” queried No Water.

“_Dho_,” continued Eagle Voice. “In his right hand he had a fine bow
and arrows. In his left hand he had a big fat beaver. And when he came
closer, Meadowlark and his wife could see that he had been growing
all day. Mother Meadowlark was so happy that she jumped up and down,
flapped her wings and cried, ‘O see what our grandson has brought
us! O see what he has brought us and how big he has grown!’ And when
Meadowlark tried the bow, it was so strong that even he could not pull
it at all.

“So they feasted on fat beaver, and while they feasted, Falling Star
told the story of his hunting. Then they slept.

“So it was early morning again, and the nest was empty as before. But
Meadow Lark and his wife were not afraid, for they knew Falling Star
had gone hunting. They just sat and waited and waited, and wondered
what he would bring this time. ‘It will be a big jack rabbit, or maybe
two,’ Meadowlark guessed. But his wife did not think so. ‘It will be a
fawn,’ she said. ‘I am sure it will be a fawn, or maybe a bison calf.’
And her husband said, ‘How could he carry a bison calf or even a fawn?
I am sure it will be a jack rabbit or maybe two.’

“While they were arguing, the morning star went back to his tepee and
the day was coming over the edge of the world. And when it had come,
Falling Star came also, but he was not a boy any more. He was a tall
young man, and what do you think he was bringing home?”

“Jack rabbits!” exclaimed Moves Walking. “Two, maybe--big fat ones!”

“It was not so,” Eagle Voice went on. “In his right hand he had his
bow and arrows, and in his left hand he was holding the legs of a fawn
which he carried on his back. Meadowlark and his wife just stood and
looked with their beaks wide open. He was so big and handsome that he
was a stranger, until he smiled. When he did that, starlight came out
of him all over, and it was so kind that he was not a stranger any
more. So they had a big feast, and sang much.

“Next morning, Falling Star went hunting again before Meadowlark and
his wife awoke. And what do you think he brought home?”

“Big buffalo bull!” blurted Moves Walking.

Eagle Voice shook his head.

“Buffalo cow, maybe?” queried No Water; “--Big fat one?”

“No--o--o!” said Eagle Voice, raising a forefinger by way of
emphasizing an important correction. “Two fat calves! That is what he
brought. Two fat buffalo calves!”

“Ah--a--a!” breathed the two in unison, dutifully acknowledging error.

“That day, Falling Star made some drying racks, so that Mother
Meadowlark could make _papa_ of the calf meat, for they could not eat
it all.

“Next morning Falling Star went hunting again--”

“Buffalo bull!” exclaimed Moves Walking, his off-eye glaring triumph.

“Fat cow?” queried No Water with his mildly grieved, anxious look.

“_Dho!_” said Eagle Voice. “A fat cow that time. Big fat bull next
time. And by now Falling Star was bigger and stronger than any man ever
was; and when he smiled, there was starlight all around him. So he made
some more drying racks, and they all worked hard cutting the meat into
strips and hanging it up to dry.

“Every morning Falling Star went hunting, and he was still getting
bigger and stronger. Sometimes he would bring an elk. Then he would
bring a fat cow and a deer. Then maybe he would bring an elk and three
or four antelope. And afterwhile enough _papa_ was drying around the
camp to feed Meadowlark and his wife for many snows.”

Eagle Voice began fumbling in his long tobacco sack. No Water and
Moves Walking, with hands on knees, leaned towards him expectantly.
When the pipe was filled and lighted, Eagle Voice, his merry face
emerging from the cloud he blew, said, “I think I will be a little
boy now. I have raised Falling Star and made much _papa_. That is the
hardest part. Now Moves Walking, my grandson here, and I will listen.
No Water will be the grandfather and he will tell us all that happened
next.”




XIX

_The Labors of the Holy One_


Hands on knees, we leaned and waited for the tale to continue. Having
taken the pipe, No Water drew a deep draught with hollowing cheeks.

“I am very old and wise,” he began, speaking out of a slowly thinning
fog, “and what I tell, my grandmother told it to me when I was very
little like you. She heard it from her grandmother, and she from hers,
and she from hers. I must be very careful to tell it right, so that you
can tell it when you too are old and wise.

“Meadowlark and his wife had enough _papa_ for many snows. When their
hungry relatives came to visit, I think there was more than they could
eat too.

“Falling Star was bigger and stronger by now than any man ever was, and
he was very handsome. I think he looked like the star-chief who was his
father, and there was a light that came out of him all over.

“So one day he said to Meadowlark and his wife, ‘Grandfather,
Grandmother, you have plenty to eat now, and I must go far away, for
there is much that I came to do.’ When Meadowlark and his wife heard
Falling Star say that, it was like waking in the night, and it is still
and many stars are looking.

“And Meadowlark said, ‘_Dho_, Grandson, you are going on a long
journey. On that journey you will meet certain people who are sad. Have
pity on those people.’ Mother Meadowlark did not say anything; she just
sang the song she knew, the one like little waters falling; for she was
very proud of the baby, and he so big and strong now.

“Then Falling Star began walking, and all at once he was far away
already. Afterwhile, as he walked, he was coming to the top of a
hill. There he saw somebody peeking at him.” No Water paused to peek,
dutifully assisted by the others. “Somebody was peeking yonder, so
Falling Star thought he would go and see who was peeking. It was an
old man, and he said, ‘_Hun-hi_, Grandson! Where are you going?’ And
Falling Star said, ‘I am going on a journey, Grandfather.’ And the old
man said, ‘On this journey, there will be difficulties, and you must
remember me, always remember me when you meet difficulties. So I give
you this.’ It was an eagle feather, and that meant the Great Mysterious
One. Also it meant that our thoughts should rise high as eagles.
Falling Star thanked the old man, and said ‘_How_.’ Then he started
walking with the feather; and when he looked back, the old man was an
eagle and flew away.

“While Falling Star was walking, he came to a little tepee made of
grass. In this tepee lived an old, old woman, and when she saw Falling
Star coming, she said, ‘_Hun-hi!_ My grandson is coming! Falling Star
is coming. Grandson, you are on a long journey, and there will be many
difficulties, so I give you this.’ It was a cap with a hawk’s feather
in it. ‘And I give you this.’ It was a long knife. So Falling Star
thanked the old woman and started walking again. When he looked back
he could see it was a hawk standing back there in front of the little
grass tepee.

“We must remember these gifts that Falling Star had, for we shall
need them.” No Water raised his left hand, counting the gifts on his
fingers. “An eagle plume, a cap with a hawk’s feather, a big knife.
Three! We must be careful not to forget these gifts.

“Falling Star had been walking very far by now, and he was going
towards where there is always snow. So it was getting very cold. And
when he came to a high ridge he could see a big village in a white
valley without grass, and winds were mourning there, and from the tepee
tops no smoke came out. Only one tepee gave smoke in all that village.
It was much bigger than the others, and it stood to one side all alone.
Then Falling Star saw a little tepee made of old hides all pieced
together, and from the top there came no smoke; and it was not to the
big tepee that he went. When he came to the little patched tepee, the
wind was mourning around it and the snow was trying to get in through
the patches.

“So he opened the flap, and there inside he saw an old, old man and an
old, old woman, and they were huddled together under a patched skin.
Then the old man looked up and light came on his face from what he saw.
And he said, ‘_Hun-hi!_ Our grandson has come at last! Falling Star
has come to see us!’ Then the old woman looked, and on her face also
there came a light from what she saw. And the old man said, ‘Grandson,
we are having a hard winter. You see this village here. The people are
starving, and we are starving too. You saw a big tepee over yonder, and
in that tepee lives a man of evil power. All good things are in that
tepee, _wasna_ and _papa_ in plenty, and a warm fire; but this man has
the people in his hands and will not let them eat. We are all afraid
of him and no one is strong enough to face him, for he is a giant and
his name is Wazya [source of snow]. When the people go out to hunt,
this man follows them and howls and roars and drives the game away.’”

“_Sheetsha! Sheetsha!_” muttered Eagle Voice and Moves Walking, hunched
against the bitter cold of the tale.

“_Dho_,” No Water agreed. “It was bad. And when Falling Star had heard,
there came a little boy into the tepee, and he was thin and shivering.
And the old man said to Falling Star, ‘This is our little grandson,
and he too is starving.’ And Falling Star said, ‘_How!_ I think your
grandson and I will go visiting where there is plenty of _wasna_ and
_papa_ and a warm fire.’

“So all at once he changed himself into a little boy just like the old
man’s grandson, and he was thin and shivering too. And he said ‘Now
we will visit Wazya.’ So the two little boys went out into the white
valley with no grass, and the wind mourning there. And the other little
boy was not afraid, because Falling Star was with him. Then they came
to the big tepee smoking all alone outside the village where no smoke
at all arose. And all over the outside of the big tepee more _papa_ was
hanging than a village could eat in a hard winter. Also _wasna_ was
stacked all around the tepee. And when Falling Star lifted the flap and
looked in, there was a big giant, with long white hair hanging down
around his face. You have seen a rocky hillside that looks away from
the sun in the Moon of Popping Trees [December]. That is how his face
looked. He was sitting by a warm fire, and on the other side there was
a giant woman with long white hair hanging around her face, and that
was like the same hillside. And back of these, all around the tepee,
were sitting many children, and all of them had long white hair, and
they were fat.

“When the two thin little boys peeked in there, the giant Wazya looked
hard at them, and said ‘_Hin!_’, which meant they were not welcome.
‘Why do you come peeking here?’ His voice was so big that it made the
tepee shake, and the smoke flap quivered. Falling Star made his voice
small and said, ‘_How, kola_; we have come to visit.’ And Wazya did not
say ‘_how_’; he said ‘_hin_,’ just like that. And the fat children with
white hair stuck their tongues out at the two thin little boys, and
they made a sound like snow hissing through dead grass.

“By now Falling Star and the other thin little boy were looking around
the big tepee at all the good things to eat. Also, they were looking
at the soft warm skins for the giants and their children to sleep in.
Then Falling Star saw a big bow and big arrows in a quiver, hanging
on a pole. And he said to Wazya, ‘_Kola_, do you use these when you
go hunting?’ And Wazya grunted, ‘_hin_.’ Then Falling Star said, ‘It
is the biggest bow I ever saw. You must be very strong to pull it. I
wish I could try it.’ When Falling Star said this, and he so thin and
little, you could hear laughter rumbling deep down in Wazya’s belly.
When ice is getting ready to break in a river it sounds the same way.

“So Falling Star took the bow down from the pole. It was so big that
his two hands could not reach halfway around it. But he remembered his
eagle feather, and all at once he lifted the bow with his left hand,
and with his right hand he pulled the string back behind his ear. Then
the smallest of the giants’ little boys pointed to Falling Star and
said, ‘I know him. He looks just like Falling Star, and he is Falling
Star.’ Then he just sat and stared like the others. Then there was a
big noise like the ice breaking up in a river and the flood smashing
through. And there on the ground was Wazya’s bow, all in pieces.”

“_Washtay! Hiyay!_” Eagle Voice and Moves Walking applauded.

“Wazya did not say anything,” No Water continued. “His woman did not
say anything. The fat children with white hair did not say anything.
They all just sat and stared at the bow all in pieces. It is like that
when the winter is old and the sun is warm, and there is no cloud, and
no wind blows; but if you listen hard, you can hear little waters.” No
Water, with his left hand extended and his right hand back of his ear,
drew the giant bow.

“So while the giants and their children were staring, Falling Star and
the other thin little boy went outside and took all the _papa_ they
could carry. And the other thin little boy said, ‘That boy who spoke to
us, he is the one who sometimes sneaks over to our tepee and gives us
_papa_ to eat. He is not a bad boy.’ And Falling Star said, ‘We will
remember him.’

“So the two thin little boys went back to the little patched tepee with
the _papa_; and while the grandfather and grandmother were eating, they
heard about Wazya’s bow, and were happy again. And while they were
eating and hearing, there was a crier going around the village outside,
and it was good news that he had for the people. He was shouting, ‘Moon
Necklace,’ for that was the head chief of this village, ‘Moon Necklace,
the valleys where you used to hunt, they are full of bison! Many bison
they have seen in the valleys where you used to hunt! Men, get ready!
Women, look to your children’s moccasins and sharpen your knives!’

“So the grandfather and grandmother and their grandson and Falling Star
went outside. All the people were coming out of their tepees, singing
as they came. Even the wind had stopped mourning, and the valley was
no longer white. It was all in brown patches, and the tender grass was
peeking through.

“So there was a big hunt. Falling Star had only one arrow, but that was
all he needed; for he tied his hawk feather on the end of it, and the
feather had the sacred power of the hawk, to see and swoop and kill.
He would shoot a bison with this arrow, and it would go on through to
another bison, and on through to another and another. I cannot say how
many, because my grandmother was too old to remember that; but it went
through many. Then Falling Star would find his arrow and shoot again,
and again, and again. I think the women were very busy by now, cutting
up the meat.

“All at once Wazya and his woman and all his children were coming
running, and Wazya was roaring, ‘Leave my bison alone! Those are my
bison, and you cannot have any!’ He began putting all the dead bison
into a big sack he carried. Then Falling Star grew very tall, taller
than any man ever was, and he was burning all over, for he was very
angry. When Wazya and his woman and his children saw this, they began
to run away. But Falling Star ran faster, and with one swing of his
knife he cut off Wazya’s head!”

“_Hoka hey!_” cried Moves Walking and Eagle Voice. “_Hoka hey!_”

“And water came rushing out of the giant’s neck,” No Water went on.
“Then with another stroke, the giant woman’s head rolled off, and
gushing water came out of her neck also.”

“_Hoka hey!_” the two cried in unison.

“And when this was done,” No Water continued, “Falling Star chased
the children and cut off their heads also, the biggest ones first and
then the smaller ones. And out of all their necks came running water.
So Wazya and his woman and his children were dead, all but one little
boy, the smallest of them all. And when Falling Star saw this one, he
said to himself, ‘This is the boy who sometimes sneaked away from home
and fed the old people. I will chase him, but I will let him live.’
So he chased the smallest boy into a big crack in the ground, and you
could see frost coming out of the crack where the smallest boy hid. If
Falling Star had not let that one get away, maybe there would be no
winter at all. That is what my grandmother thought. I do not know. But
old, old men always say the winters used to be much harder than they
are now. Deeper snow! Colder, much colder! Maybe that was before Wazya
and his woman and children got their heads cut off. I do not know this,
and I must be careful what I tell.

“So the people of this village feasted and danced and sang, every
tepee-top gave smoke, and all the valley was green.

“Then the chiefs and the councilors and the _akichita_ and the
_wichasha yatapika_ got together, and in the center of the happy
village they made a big tepee of many tepees. And into this place they
brought Falling Star that each might thank him in turn for saving the
people. And when they had thanked him, the oldest of the _wichasha
yatapika_ stood up on three legs, and said, ‘Falling Star, the people
want you to live with them and be their great head chief forever.’ And
when the people heard this, they all cried, ‘_Hiyay! Hiyay!_’

“Then Falling Star stood so tall that the people had to look straight
up and far to see his face; and it was so bright that it blinded them.
But in the darkness of their eyes there was the voice of Falling Star,
and the voice said, ‘I cannot live with you always, my people, for I
have much to do and a long journey to go. But in the moon when cherries
blacken, look for me and I will always come again.’

“And when the voice was still and the people looked about them, Falling
Star was gone and the high sun was shining on the happy village in the
wide green valley.”

No Water ceased, and sat in silence, gazing as upon something far
away, while Moves Walking and Eagle Voice leaned forward waiting. At
length Moves Walking broke the silence with a forceful whisper. “_White
crow!_” he prompted.

With that mildly grieved, questioning look of his, No Water turned upon
Moves Walking. “Falling Star has gone on a long journey,” he said.
“I was waiting to see where he went. You know this story so well,
Grandfather, you tell it yourself.”

“_Dho_,” said Moves Walking explosively, the off-eye glaring, the
other revealing a suppressed amusement. “I know this story from my
grandfather. Don’t bother me, and I will tell it right.”

Evidently No Water had become an eager little boy, hands on knees,
leaning to hear.

“So Falling Star had to go on another long journey,” Moves Walking
began, “and he was far away already. He was walking, walking--walking;
and my grandfather said you could see where he walked by the flowers.
And while he was walking he came to the top of a hill. An old man was
standing there, and this old man said, ‘_Hun-hi_, Grandson, where are
you going? And Falling Star said, ‘I am on a journey, Grandfather.’ And
the old man said, ‘Grandson, you are going to meet some difficulties.
There is a big village yonder. In that village there is no meat, and
the children are crying for it. What you must do will be hard, so you
must remember me and I give you this.’ It was a grasshopper. Falling
Star thanked the old man and started walking again. When he looked
back, a meadowlark was standing on the hilltop yonder, and that made
him feel very kind.

“So Falling Star walked far, and afterwhile he came to another hilltop,
and in the valley yonder was this big village the meadowlark man told
about. It looked as though nobody was young down there--people sitting
by their tepees with their chins on their breasts, boys walking around
like old men without canes. And when you listen, you hear little
children whimpering and crying, like being very hungry and no meat.

“While Falling Star was looking, he saw a little tepee made of old
skins patched together; so that is where he went. And when he lifted
the flap an old, old man and an old, old woman were sitting inside with
their chins on their breasts. When the old man lifted his head to look,
it was shaking, and he said, ‘_Hun-hun-hi_, here is my grandson! Sit
down.’ When the old woman lifted her head to look, it was shaking too,
and she said, ‘It is good that you came, my grandson, for the people
are all starving. I can see that you are Falling Star.’ And the old man
said, ‘It is true. We are all starving. When the hunters go out, there
are bison; but there is a white crow that talks, and he tells all the
bison to run away for the hunters are coming. So no bison are there
when the hunters come, and we are starving.’”

“_Sheetsha! Sheetsha!_” commented No Water and Eagle Voice, their heads
shaking with feebleness.

“_Dho_,” Moves Walking agreed. “It was bad, very bad. So Falling Star
said, ‘Grandfather, I think you should call the head men of the village
here, for I want to say something to them.’ The old man felt much
stronger now, so he went and told the head men. And when the head men
were there, they all said, ‘_Hun-hun-hi!_ It is good! Our grandson,
Falling Star, has come to visit us!’ And the head chief said, ‘We have
no meat to give you, for we are all starving. There is a white crow
that talks. He always flies ahead of the hunters and tells the bison to
go away; and when the hunters come, no bison are there at all, and we
are starving.’

“Then Falling Star said to the head men, ‘You must do what I say. Set
up a tepee in the center of the hoop and make it tight without even a
smoke flap; for nobody is going to live in this tepee. Make a little
fire in there before you shut it tight. There are bison not far away.
I will go there and change myself into a bison. When you come to hunt,
there will be only one bison left, for the white crow will tell the
others to run away. This one bison will be I, but do not fear to kill
and butcher me, for you cannot hurt me. Do not take any meat for
yourselves--only enough for the little children who are crying. Then
you will see.’

“So Falling Star asked for a bison robe, and this he tied about him.
Then he began rolling on the ground and bellowing. All at once he was
a big bison bull, and he galloped away to where the other bison were
feeding, and the white crow was hopping around among them.

“Soon the hunters were coming, and the white crow began flying around
over the bison and screaming, ‘Run! Run! The hunters are coming!’ All
of them ran away from there except one big bull, and he just went on
feeding. So the white crow flew down onto the bull’s back and began
pecking and screaming, ‘Did you not hear me, bad one? I told you to run
away! The hunters are coming!’ But this big bull just made thunder in
his belly and went on feeding.

“The hunters were close now, and the white crow had to fly away. But he
was watching while the hunters killed and butchered the big bull. When
they had butchered they took some tender meat and good warm liver for
the little children who were crying, and went back to the village.

“Then the white crow came flying around and around the bull that was
butchered, and he was thinking, ‘I must be careful. Maybe this is a
trick.’ But the fresh meat smelled so good that he could not stay away
from it. So he hopped around the butchered bison, with his head on this
side, then on that side, then on this side, then on that side. [Three
heads wagged, illustrating the point.] All the while he was hopping a
little closer. When he could not wait any longer he pecked at one of
the eyes. But the way the other eye looked at him, he was frightened,
and he said, ‘This looks like Falling Star’s eye.’ So he flew away and
sat on top of a plum thicket to watch.

“While he was watching, the black crows and the magpies and two hawks
smelled the fresh meat and came swooping down on it to feast. This made
the white crow hungrier than before, and very angry too. So he came
flapping and screaming, ‘Get away from my meat! This is my meat, and
I will eat it myself!’ But nobody listened. So he hopped right inside
the butchered bison and began poking around for some good warm liver.
_Peck-peck. Peck-peck-peck. Peck-peck-peck-peck._ The meat was good and
he was greedy, so he forgot to be afraid.

“That is just what Falling Star was waiting for, and all at once he was
not a butchered four-legged any more; for he changed himself into a
two-legged and caught white crow by the legs!”

Having silenced the exclamations of triumph with a lifted forefinger,
Moves Walking continued: “Don’t bother me. I must tell this right.
‘_Squawk! Squ-awk! Squ-awk-k-k!_’ the white crow screamed; ‘Let me go!
Let me go! I will give you my power if you will let me go!’ But Falling
Star said, ‘You have been bad to the people long enough. I will not let
you go.’ So he went back to the village; and when the people saw him
coming with the white crow that was flapping and screaming, they all
cried, ‘_Hiyay! Hiyay_,’ with one big voice.

“Then Falling Star went to the tepee that the head men had made tight
with a little fire inside, and he pushed the white crow in under the
bottom of it. All at once it is like Thunder Beings fighting inside
that tepee! People all watch and listen! Hardly breathe! _Squawk!
Squawk! Flap! Flap!_ Big noise in there! Looks like that tepee is going
to fall down! People come running to hold it up. Everybody holding that
tepee up. Then all at once, the tepee-top breaks open, and out flies
the white crow with the smoke!”

Moves Walking clapped his hands violently, then paused, open-mouthed,
to follow the escaping culprit with one astonished, and one angrily
glaring eye.

“_Sheetsha! sheetsha!_” muttered the others, deploring the unfortunate
situation. His excitement having subsided, Moves Walking continued.

“No, Grandsons,” he said with a reassuring smile, “it was not bad. It
was good, very good. The white crow got away, but he was black, black
from the smoke, black all over just like all the other crow people.
No power any more. Tries to say something to the bison. _Squawk,
squawk_--that is all he can say. Bison let him squawk, go right on
feeding. Hunters come. Plenty bison. Children stop crying. Nobody
hungry any more.”

“_Washtay! Washtay!_” Eagle Voice and No Water applauded the happy
outcome.

“So there was a big feast in that village,” Moves Walking continued.
“Then Falling Star said to the old, old man and the old, old woman
in their fine new tepee, ‘Grandfather, Grandmother, there is another
village, and they need me over there. I must go on a long journey.’ So
he went.”

After a waiting silence, Moves Walking turned to Eagle Voice.
“Grandfather,” he said, “you started this. You finish it.”

“Chief’s arm!” urged No Water.

“_Dho_,” Eagle Voice began. “The chief’s right arm. It is stolen and
somebody must get it back. So Falling Star was walking again. When he
had walked far, he came to the top of a hill, and there was an old man.
And this old man said, ‘_Hun-hi_, Grandson, where are you going?’ And
Falling Star said, ‘I am on a journey.’ And the old man said, ‘You will
come to a big village, and there will be great difficulties. I do not
give you anything; but you must remember the gifts you have received
already, for you shall need them. This is going to be very difficult.’
Then Falling Star said, ‘I will remember all my gifts, Grandfather,’
and he went on walking.

“Afterwhile there was a high ridge, and in the valley below was this
big village. While he was looking, there was a little patched tepee
on one side, and he thought, ‘That is where I will go.’ So he turned
himself into a little boy like you, Grandsons--six, seven winters
maybe--and went to the little patched tepee. When he lifted the flap
and said, ‘_How_,’ there was an old, old woman sitting in there all
alone, with thin white hair and the point of her chin close to the
point of her nose. And she said, ‘Grandson, my Grandson, I am so glad
you have come! Your grandfather did not come back from the war-path. I
am always waiting, but he does not come, and I am all alone here.’ And
Falling Star said, ‘I will stay with you and bring you tender meat,
Grandmother.’

“So that is what he did. He would go hunting, and when he was out there
he would turn into a very tall young man. Every time he would come back
with plenty of tender meat for his grandmother. But when he came back,
he would be a little boy again. People did not know who he was, so they
called him Lives-with-his-Grandma; and that was his name.

“Then one day his grandmother said, ‘Something very bad has happened,
Grandson. The Thunder Beings have stolen the head-chief’s right arm,
and with only his left arm he has no power and cannot protect the
people. He has one daughter, and all the young warriors want her for
their woman. They have brought many horses, but he waves them away and
says, ‘Bring me my right arm and I will give her to you.’

“Then Falling Star laughed and said, ‘Grandmother, I think I will go
and peek at the head-chief’s daughter.’ So that is what he did. And
when he had peeked, he said to himself, ‘I will go and find that arm
and I will bring it back, for I am Falling Star, and even the Thunder
Beings shall not stop me!’

“There was a long line of young warriors waiting their turn to talk to
the daughter, and she sitting in front of her tepee. One by one, she
waved them away and said, ‘The arm! Go find the arm!’ So the long line
shortened, and Falling Star was the last one. He was a tall young man
now. When he looked at the daughter, his eyes were stars in a still
night. She looked back at him, and her eyes were stars too, shining
in a still clear night. And while they were looking, there was a soft
starlight that grew, and it covered them like a lover’s blanket, and
they were alone together in there.

“Then the daughter said, ‘You are Falling Star, and I have been waiting
so long. Go quickly and bring the arm, for it is so long that I have
waited.’ And when Falling Star heard this, all at once he was like the
sun when it is rising.

“Then he was gone from there. So Falling Star was walking again. And
afterwhile there was an old woman living by a creek. Maybe it was
Rapid Creek in Pa Sapa [the Black Hills]. My grandfather thought this,
but I do not know. And the old woman said, ‘Grandson, I know what you
are looking for. I saw the Thunder Beings with the chief’s right arm.
They came roaring through here. This is going to be the most difficult
thing, and you will need help. So I give you this piece of sinew. When
you need to go away fast from somewhere, just put a live coal on one
end of this sinew, and all at once you will not be there at all. When
you come near to Where-the-Bears-Live [Bear Butte], you will see your
grandfather, and he will help.’

“Falling Star thanked the old woman and went on walking. Soon he saw an
old man standing by his tepee with a blanket around him. ‘_Hun-hun-hi_,
Grandson, you are doing a very difficult thing, I have heard! Come in
and eat.’ So they went inside the tepee, and it was full of eagles
lying down with their wings stretched out--like a robe of eagles on the
ground. And while they were eating the old man said, ‘As you go, there
is a place called He-Ska [White Buttes, north of the Black Hills]. Your
grandfather lives there. Be sure to see him before you get to where you
are going. And take this feather with you.’

“Falling Star thanked the old man with the eagles and went on. Then he
was coming to He-Ska, and on top was a tepee. And from the tepee an old
man called down to him. ‘Grandson, I am your grandfather. Come up and I
will help you.’ So Falling Star climbed up, and the old man said, ‘It
is very difficult, what you are doing, I have heard. I am small but I
can help you. Take this.’ Then Falling Star saw that the old man was a
split-tail swallow, and it was one of his wing feathers that he gave.
‘Go on with this,’ the old man said. ‘You are very near now.’

“So Falling Star thanked the old man and went on into a wide flatland
deep in grass. And in that flatland was a big village. I think maybe
the people were dancing in that village, because Falling Star could
hear drums--like thunder when it sleeps and snores under the edge of
the world.

“When Falling Star was going into the village where the thunder slept,
there was a thin little voice coming from a bull-berry bush. He looked,
and it was a wren. And the wren said, ‘I am not much of a man myself,
but I can help. Take this feather from my wing, but I want it back. The
chief’s right arm is in that big tepee you see yonder. Put the feather
in your hair and fly over to that woodpile by the big tepee. Then you
must say, “_Zuya wahi! Zuya wahi!_ [On the war-path I come].” They will
hear and let you in. And be sure to give me back my feather.’

“Then Falling Star said, ‘You make me thankful, Holds-back-the-Buffalo
[for that was his name]. I will not forget, little Grandfather.’ So he
put the feather in his hair. All at once he was a wren, and he flew
over to the woodpile by the big tepee.

“There was a little boy Thunder Being who came out of the big tepee and
heard what the wren was saying on the woodpile. So he went back inside
and said, ‘There is a wren sitting on the woodpile out there, and he
says he has come on the war-path.’ Falling Star could hear Thunders
laughing inside, and a big voice said, ‘A wren on the war-path! Ho ho!
Bring him in! A wren on the war-path! Ho! ho!’

“So the little boy caught the wren and took him inside the big tepee
that was made of cloud. There were giants sitting around a pot, and the
pot was boiling. Falling Star knew they were Thunder Beings the way
their bellies rumbled when they laughed, and there were blue jagged
stripes all over their bodies. He could see something wrapped in hide
hanging from a pole, and what do you think _that_ was?”

“_Chief’s right arm!_” exclaimed Moves Walking and No Water in unison.

“_Dho_, the chief’s right arm! The wren knew it too, and he began
saying, ‘_Zuya wahi! Zuya wahi!_’ as loud as he could. Then one of the
Thunder Beings roared with laughing, seized the wren and threw him into
the boiling pot.

“But the wren was Falling Star, and when he flapped his wings, the
boiling soup whirled like a great storm and fell on all the Thunder
Beings. They howled with pain; and the way they were feeling around for
the wren while they howled, you could see they were nearly blind with
the scalding soup in their eyes.

“Then Falling Star seized the arm and flew out of the tepee built of
cloud and all on fire with sharp lightning. First, he flew to He Ska
where his grandfather Wren lived, and he said, ‘Little Grandfather,
here is your feather. You have made me thankful. I must hurry.’ Then he
put the feather of the split-tail swallow in his hair. And as he turned
into a swallow, all the Thunder Beings came roaring and howling and
flashing with sharp fires. If you have seen how split-tail swallows fly
in front of a storm, that is how Falling Star flew. Up and down, back
and forth, rise and swoop, he flew and dodged so fast that the arrows
of the lightning could not hit him.

“The Thunder Beings were howling and roaring close behind when he
came to where his Grandfather Swallow lived; and he said, ‘Quick,
Grandfather! Take your feather! You have made me thankful! I must
hurry!’

“Then he put his eagle plume in his hair. You may think he changed into
an eagle, but that is not what he did. He changed into an eagle feather
that floated and flew on the back of the great wind ahead of the
Thunder Beings. When he came to his grandfather of the eagles, he said,
‘Quick, Grandfather! Take back your plume! You have made me thankful. I
must hurry!’

“Then he put a live coal on the end of the sinew. And when it sizzled
and began to shrink and curl, all at once he was not there at all. He
was right in front of his old grandmother’s tepee in the big village
he had started from. When he looked back, he saw a big, boiling, black
cloud full of Thunder Beings that were howling and roaring and shooting
blue fire arrows as they came. They were coming fast, and Falling Star
thought, ‘I have used the powers of the wren, the swallow, the eagle,
and the sinew. What can I do now?’ He still had his grasshopper and
hawk feather, but the hawk would be too slow. When he touched the
ground in front of the old grandmother’s tepee, he had changed into a
little boy again, the one they called Lives-with-his-Grandma.

“He was going to change into the grasshopper so that he could hide in
the grass until the Thunder Beings had gone by. But he did not do this,
for just then his old grandmother came running out of her tepee with a
hatchet. She was very angry, and she was yelling at the Thunder Beings.
‘What are you doing to my grandson?’ _Whack!_ ‘This is my little
grandson, and don’t you dare hurt him!’ _Whack! Whack!_ ‘You go away
from here, you bad Thunder Beings!’ _Whack! Whack!_ The last stroke
of her hatchet cut right through the boiling black cloud, and the sun
blazed out. That made the Thunder Beings turn and fly away as fast as
they could fly, and you could hear them rumbling and howling, rumbling
and howling until they were back under the edge of the world.”

“_Washtay! Washtay! Washtay!_”

Eagle Voice waited for the applause to cease. After it had ceased, he
still sat in silence, as though enjoying the golden peace of a world
delivered.

“Maybe he can have the girl now--?” No Water ventured timidly.

“Chief’s daughter!” Moves Walking exclaimed.

“_Dho_,” said Eagle Voice, smiling benignly upon the two. “The chief
has his right arm again and Falling Star has the chief’s daughter.
Also, he still has his first eagle plume and the hawk’s feather and the
grasshopper. He did not need these powers; but he is going to have a
son when the young grass comes again, and his son must have these, for
there are more villages that need help, and his son will help them.

“You come back with the young grass and I will tell you all about it
then.”




XX

_The Battle in the Blizzard_


“There was strength in that meat,” remarked Eagle Voice, when next
we sat alone together in his tepee and the pipe was passed. “Almost
as strong as fat bison cow, and even I could chew it. Good meat and
stories told with friends make young awhile. When I was getting wood
this morning I could smell melting in the wind. It is far to the young
grass yet, but I think there will be a little water running before the
wind changes. It was like that to eat good meat with No Water and Moves
Walking and you, and to remember together.”

When we had talked awhile about our two guests at the late feast, the
old man said: “They are younger than I am, but Moves Walking is not
much younger. No Water was only a boy when we fought the soldiers of
the Gray Fox [General Crook] on the Rosebud, and when we rubbed out
Long Hair [Custer] on the Greasy Grass. But Moves Walking was almost a
young man already, the winter when the thirty Lakota were killed. That
was the winter after my first sun dance that I have told you about.

“Yes, Moves Walking was with us when the thirty were killed, and I will
tell you how that was. After our fall hunt when we made our winter
camp on Powder River with plenty of _papa_ and _wasna_, High Horse and
Kicking Bear came back from Pa Sapa [the Black Hills] and the hunting
with their people yonder. We had talked, the way I told you, about
great deeds that we would do that winter; and so they came. It was when
the Moon of Falling Leaves was young that they came, and there was not
yet any snow.

“Charging Cat was going along with us again, for he had helped us when
we drove off all those Crow horses. Nobody ever noticed him much, and
he did not talk until he had to do it, like saying, ‘Yes,’ or, ‘No,’
maybe, or ‘We can do that.’ He had a long jaw, and he looked sad, like
an old horse. But whatever we would say, he wanted to do that. The four
of us were going alone, _maka mani_ like the last time. It would be
braver that way, and if we found deep snow, there would be no horses to
starve--until we got some from the enemy.

“When we were getting ready, people noticed us because we had made
names for ourselves. Young men came to us, and said, ‘We are men too,
and we are going with you.’ So when we started, there were many of us.
Some were hardly more than boys and some had sons, and some had scars
from many fights.

“So when we were all ready, we started southwest, for we were going
against the Shoshonis over where the mountains are. We called them
snake men, because that was their sign-language name. When we had slept
twice, there was a creek with plenty of wood and good water and signs
of game, and there we camped to hunt and rest and eat fresh meat.

“We were camping there one sleep, and the sun was just going down
again. There was no wind in the brush. Our fires were warm. Meat
was boiling in the paunches of deer. They were set up, each with
four sticks, and hot rocks made the water boil in them. The soup was
smelling good already, along with ribs and entrails roasting over
coals. It was not enemy country yet, and we felt safe there.

“All at once somebody was yelling; and when we looked, it was Last Dog
running fast towards us down a little hill. He was saying, ‘They are
coming! Get ready to die here! Enemies are coming!’ He was all out of
breath when he came to us. ‘I was creeping up to the top of a ridge,’
he said, and he was panting hard; ‘A deer went that way, and I was
creeping up, but there was no deer. There were men in the brush! I do
not know how many, but there were many. Many! They were peeking out at
me, and I came here to tell you. That is why I did not fight and die
there. I am a man, and I will die here protecting my brothers.’ Then he
began singing a death-song.

“Nobody liked Last Dog very much, because he was always talking about
how brave he was. Sometimes we called him Big Mouth. But some Crows
might be roving around there, so we got ready to fight right where we
were. Anyway, the meat smelled good and we were hungry. There were more
than fifty of us, and was not one Lakota better than two Crows? We
could eat while we were waiting to fight, and that is what we did.

“It was beginning to get dark along the creek when Last Dog jumped up
and said, ‘Look! They are crawling over the hilltop yonder!’ We looked
and it was so. They were crawling out of the sky there, and all at once
many were charging down upon us, yelling. But they were saying, ‘_Hoka
hey, Kola! Hoka hey, Kola!_’

“They were Lakotas from our village, all _maka mani_ like us. When we
were gone two sleeps, some others thought they would follow, and others
followed after them; and they had camped where we had camped. Moves
Walking was with them. I think they saw Last Dog coming and wanted to
watch him run. Also they were having fun with us.

“So there were about a hundred mouths around the boiling paunches and
the fires, eating and laughing that night. Some of the youngsters joked
Last Dog about his enemies, and one of them asked when he was going to
begin dying. That made Last Dog angry, and he shouted, ‘You shall see
who is a man around here!’ Then his brother-in-law He Crow, who was
a good warrior and a quiet man, said, ‘Look around you, brother, and
count us. We are all men around here.’ And Last Dog looked down his
nose.

“Next morning we started out again for Shoshoni country. When we had
slept once, we walked until the sun was high and we camped in a good
place to hunt and rest, for those who had followed were more tired than
we who went first. So we were eating there when the sun was just down,
and a big moon was coming up. The air was sharp and it was blowing a
little from the way we were going. There was a low bank along the creek
on that side, and it broke the wind. Our little fires felt good, and we
were not looking for enemies yet.

“But all at once--men were there on the bank looking down at us, and
they were not some more Lakotas! They were Crows! The country was rough
on that side and the wind was at their backs. They were going to camp
where we were, and they ran right into us. My mouth was full of meat,
but I forgot to chew--I think all of us forgot to chew. They were
looking at us and we were looking at them. It seemed long, but I think
it would have been only a breath or two, if any of us, Crow or Lakota,
were breathing.”

Eagle Voice paused to stare open-mouthed. Then he clapped his hands.
“_Whang!_ One yonder yelled and sent an arrow among us. Then everybody
was yelling; and there was nobody on the bank. They were running away.

“When we were up the bank, they were strung out and running fast
towards a high butte yonder. There were about thirty of them, all _maka
mani_. One was leading a horse with a pack and another was running
behind, beating the horse with a bow. There was a dog, and he was
running and leaping among them and yelping. Maybe he was saying, ‘_Hoka
hey!_ It’s a good day to die, brothers!’ But nobody was stopping to
die. We were shooting at them by now, and one of them tumbled. Most of
us just couped the man as we ran past, and some boys got the scalp.
There were plenty of scalps running away yonder, and we wanted to stop
them before they got to the butte.

“But they had the start and got there first. There was a way up into
the butte through some big rocks, and it was narrow at the bottom where
the rocks were. Most of them ran in there with the horse, while the
others stopped to shoot at us. Then those ran after the others.

“It was beginning to get dark and the big moon was back of the butte
yet. They had some guns too, and we shot at each other for a while;
but there were many rocks around there and we were scattered out among
them. It was getting dark fast, and maybe the Crows were too scared to
hit anything. Between shooting we could hear them rolling rocks into
the narrow way, and we knew we could not charge up in the dark. So we
sent some scouts around the butte to see where the Crows could get down
and run away. It was high and steep all around, and they could never
get down alive, even if they left the horse.

“There was a rocky draw with brush in it not far from the narrow way
up the butte, and we camped in there. The enemy could see the light of
our fires, but they could not shoot at us. In the morning we would see
what we could do. So we sent men back to bring the paunches and the
meat from the other camping place, also the blankets and robes that we
had left there. Some took turns watching the opening, and we feasted by
many little fires.

“While we were eating, the big moon looked over the butte. The air was
sharp without wind. When we listened, there was nothing to hear but a
stick popping in a fire, maybe. When new guards went out and the others
came back, they had heard nothing up there, and we wondered about this.

“Many were asleep. Charging Cat was snoring in his blanket, but Kicking
Bear and High Horse and I were sitting in our blankets by a little
fire. The big moon stood tall above the butte. I dozed and awoke. The
moon was overhead. There was a voice up yonder in the butte, and it was
mourning. Many of those who had slept, sat up and listened. Sometimes
the voice was like a falling wind in a tree. Then it rose high and
thin, high and sharp and thin, as high as the moon, and fell again like
a wind moaning. The dog began to mourn too with a long low howl. Then
he would yelp and his voice would rise high and thin, higher than the
man’s, farther than the moon. Then it would be a low long howl again.
Some wolves heard and sang back.

“The voice stopped mourning and the dog was still. High Horse said,
‘I think we hit somebody up there.’ And Kicking Bear said, ‘Maybe they
are mourning for tomorrow while they can.’ Then the man’s voice began
again, and it was singing a death-song, and the dog sang too. A guard
came running, and said, ‘One is singing a death-song! Maybe they are
coming down to die here!’ So we all got ready to fight. We waited and
listened. The man and dog stopped singing. The moon stared and started
down the sky. The air was sharp and bright and still. Afterwhile a
guard came and said, ‘There is no sound up yonder. We have seen nothing
move in the moonlight.’ New wood cracked on the low fires, and it was
loud. Charging Cat began to snore in his blanket. Many slept. I sat and
dozed.

“The moon was staring low over the edge of the world. I was shivering
in my blanket by the embers. Day was coming and the butte was dark
against it.

“When we had eaten what was left of the meat, it was time to go up into
the butte. Many wanted to go first, but Kicking Bear, High Horse, and
I had started the party, so they let us go. Charging Cat did not say
anything. He just came along the way a dog does.

“The others were waiting to see what would happen. And we crawled up
over the rocks that the Crows had piled in the opening. There was
nobody. So we climbed on up a crooked way among rocks. Sometimes we
crawled, then we would lie flat and listen. There was nothing. When we
were nearly up the butte, we could see the others waiting, so we waved
to them and they started up. The top of the butte was broader than we
thought, and almost flat. Some brush grew here and there, and at the
far end there were some crooked little trees half dead. We stood and
stared around. There was nobody. There was a hawk floating high in the
morning. We came to the little trees that were half dead at the far end
of the butte top, and looked over. There was a wall of rock straight
down to a slope at the bottom. A many-knotted rawhide rope was hanging
there, and we saw that it was tied around the thickest little tree.

“The others were running about the butte top, looking down over the
steep sides and staring around. When they saw the knotted rawhide rope
hanging, some were angry and wanted to follow; but there were more who
laughed. Some could not believe all of the story the rope told. How
could a horse get down there? Somebody said he just made himself some
wings and flew. So it ended in laughing.

“I was almost an old man when I heard all about that night on the butte
top. It was long after we had all settled down on reservations, and
some of us went over to visit the Crows. There were two old men there
who had the ends of their right forefingers cut off, and they were in
that party. It was a holy man who told the other Crows how to get away.
First he prayed to Wakon Tonka for help, and if help came and they all
got home, each man would cut off his forefinger as an offering. Then he
told them to cut up their robes in broad strips and tie these together.
When this was done, they let two men down over the cliff. If these saw
anybody, they would jerk twice on the rope and the others would pull
them up again. If there was nobody down there, they would jerk once.
After a long while, the two men jerked once, for they had been crawling
around and they had seen what we were doing on the other side of the
butte. Then the Crows on the butte tied the horse’s legs together and
let him down over the side with the rope sliding through a crotch of
the thickest half-dead tree. There were thirty-two in the party, so
there were thirty holding the rope. That was when the holy man with his
dog began to mourn so loud. He mourned until most of the men were down
too, and then he began the death-song to keep us watching over there
while the main party was getting away with the horse. When he stopped
singing, two who were left let him down with his dog; then they climbed
down with their hands on the rope and their feet against the cliff. It
was a good joke on us, and we laughed as friends with the old Crows who
told the story.

“But that was many snows afterwards. We had lost our Crows, and,
anyway, we were going against the Shoshonis over by the mountains. We
traveled two more sleeps, but now we were careful, for it was enemy
country. Scouts went before us and behind us, also on our right and
left. It was a good country for game and our scouts killed plenty of
meat with their bows.

“When we were camping the third time after the Crows fooled us, I awoke
in the night. There was no moon. The still dark was soft and full
of whispers. Snow was falling thick and the embers of our fire made
spitting sounds. I put more wood on, and that wakened Kicking Bear
and High Horse. Charging Cat was snoring. If there was no fighting or
eating to do, he could sleep. We talked about the snow. It was going to
be hard for us, but we were men, and the Shoshonis would not be looking
for us in deep snow. Kicking Bear said, ‘_Dho_, it will be hard for us,
and the Shoshonis will not expect us. But we are only men and we shall
need help if this snow falls deep. Last time we made an offering and
came back safe with seventy-five horses; but there was no snow. We must
make an offering.’

“Our camp was in the brush by a creek, and there was a hill not far
away. We could not see it, but we knew it was there and that is where
the three of us went. Charging Cat was snoring, so we did not bother
him. What came to us would come to him also. On top of the hill we
raised our hands and our faces to where the sun goes down, for from
thence comes the power to make live and to destroy. We wanted to live
and to destroy our enemies. Kicking Bear had his pipe and he prayed,
offering it to the power we needed. If we came home safe with many
horses, we would give them all away. Only a few we would keep maybe,
for hunting and war. Also, if we should win a great victory, we would
dance again, piercing our flesh. When Kicking Bear had prayed, we said,
‘_hetchetu aloh_,’ and waited awhile with our hands and our faces to
the dark sky, so that the power would go into us. All around us we
could hear the still night whispering, and the snow was wet on my face.
Then we left the pipe on the hill with the mouthpiece towards the
sunset, and went back to where the lights of the low fires looked fuzzy
in the snowfall.

“When we had eaten in the morning and were walking again, the snow was
three hand-breadths deep, and still it fell and whispered. The air was
getting colder and the snow fell finer and finer until it was like
white dust. It stopped before we made a camp, and the sun looked out
when it was setting. We thought our prayer was heard on the dark hill
and our offering accepted.

“We had not seen any Shoshonis, but we knew we were in their country.
They would be staying in their winter camps and the snow would
help, for they would not be wandering about. Next day was dark with
clouds and the wind was changing. We walked slowly, waiting for
what our scouts might see. There would be a puff of wind and the
snow would whirl about our feet and slide along the ground like
snakes--_shosho--shosho_. Then it would be still; then it would blow
again and stop.

“The sun was overhead, but we could not see it. It was halfway down,
maybe, and still we could not see it. The wind was getting stronger.
Four scouts were out ahead of us and one of them was Last Dog, the
big-mouthed one. We came to a ridge and stopped to look over. There
was a white valley with low snow hurrying down it, for it lay with the
wind that was getting stronger. Beyond the valley was another ridge,
and as we looked yonder--” Eagle Voice paused to listen for a moment,
then clapped his hands. “_Boom!--boom!_ There was shooting yonder under
the far ridge. We crouched there and waited. Maybe we would have to
fight right where we were. We waited, with the snow whirling about our
knees. We waited; then the four came puffing and running. Last Dog had
killed, and he was bragging. He showed a wet scalp and bragged; but
the three others looked down their noses. They had seen two horsebacks
yonder, a man and a little boy, and the boy was tied to his horse. ‘My
three friends here,’ Last Dog said, ‘wanted to hide and let them go,
but I am a man and I am not afraid. I could not catch the other, for
his horse ran away with him and I am afoot.’

“Many were angry. ‘We cannot surprise them now,’ they said. ‘They will
come with horses, and we must fight them where they find us.’ Then He
Crow said to Last Dog, ‘Brother-in-law, we may have to give many scalps
for one you have taken too soon.’ And Last Dog, being angry, yelled
back at He Crow, ‘Go and see where your husband butchered! You are
afraid to go and see where your husband butchered!’

“That was a bad saying for a brave man to hear, and for a while He Crow
looked down and said nothing. He was thinking how it would be if he did
not go and they both got back home. Last Dog could say, ‘Wife, how did
you like the way your husband butchered?’ Anyone could laugh. Maybe
little boys would hear and point at him and laugh. Then He Crow looked
hard at Last Dog, and said, ‘Brother-in-law, you know I am no man’s
woman. I am a man and I can die.’

“He Crow had five brothers and all were with us. When he started alone
for the far ridge yonder, we all stood and watched him walking fast.
He did not look back. When he was nearly to the valley, the oldest of
the brothers said to the youngest, and his name was Running Wolf, ‘Stay
here. We are going.’ Maybe he was thinking of their father and mother
and wanted the boy to live and get back home. Then the four older
brothers started running after He Crow. When they were halfway down the
hill, the youngest brother cried out to the others and started running
after them. Then I saw that Charging Cat was going too. He did not say
anything; he just started running.

“The wind had been getting stronger, and the light snow was lifting
and flying. There were many rocks along the ridge, and we were getting
ready to fight there on that high place with the rocks to help us if
many Shoshonis came with horses. They would be coming. We knew by the
little boy tied on his horse that a winter village was near. They would
be coming soon, and it would be better to fight among the rocks.

“When we saw Charging Cat starting down the hill, we looked at each
other, Kicking Bear and High Horse and I. Then we started too, running
after Charging Cat. The wind was howling down the valley when we
crossed it. We were nearly up the hill when I looked back. Some others
were coming too. I do not know how many. They were dim in the flying
snow. Those ahead were dim in the flying snow; and then they were over
the ridge.

“We were coming to the top and there was shooting ahead of us. The
sounds were dull and mixed with the wind and snow. I looked back again,
and many, like shadows, were coming towards us yonder. Our people
heard the shots, and they were not waiting to fight among the rocks on
the ridge. They were coming to help us. Then we looked over the top
of the ridge ahead. Some horsebacks were coming and shooting. They
were floating and blowing with the snow; sometimes only horses’ heads
and riders blowing in the wind with no legs under them and no sound
of hoofs. Our warriors who had gone ahead were in a bunch down there
shooting at the horsebacks. We yelled, ‘_Hoka-hey_,’ and charged down
towards where they stood.”

Eagle Voice closed his eyes, and for some time sat in silence. At
length he looked at me with half-raised lids and continued in a low,
steady voice that expressed no emotion. “Some horsebacks cut us off.
We three were together. Kicking Bear pulled us close to him and yelled
in our faces, ‘Do not get separated! Stay with me and we will die
together!’ So we clung to him. It was a killing, but not a battle. It
was like dreaming. Soon the wind was full of horsebacks floating and
flying with the snow, and the cries of men were part of the roaring
of the wind around us. We knew the others had come to help us, for
some of them stumbled into us as we fought. A horse’s head and neck
blew out of the flying snow in front of me. We were fighting with our
knives. I slashed at the neck. The horse screamed and was gone. We did
not look for enemies. We clung close together and struck at horsebacks
appearing and blowing in the wind. I had my quirt hanging down my back
under my shirt, the way Chagla told me to wear it always in battle. I
remembered it and was strong, for it would protect me. But once there
was a crowding of horsebacks around us, and I thought we were going to
die. Then I remembered the eagle’s voice in my vision, ‘_Hold fast,
there is more. Hold fast, there is more._’ A horse reared, and Kicking
Bear was holding it by the thong on its lower jaw. He was slashing at
the throat. I leaped at the man. He struck but could not touch me. High
Horse and I pulled him off, and he would not fight again. We did not
stop to scalp him.

“It was like dreaming, and then it was like waking in the half-dark.
We three were alone together and there were no horses in the wind. The
day was going blind, and the snow howled and whirled. We had not seen
Charging Cat.

“Kicking Bear pulled us close together and yelled in our faces, ‘Keep
the left shoulder to the wind and cling to me.’ We knew that would
set our faces towards home. So we clung together and walked with our
left shoulders to the wind. Then it was black, and the darkness howled
and was full of whips. We stumbled often. Once we fell over a creek
bank into drifted snow. It was warmer there and the drift was soft.
Kicking Bear would not let us stay. We could not start a fire, and if
we did not walk we would die. We stumbled into some big rocks, and when
we tried to climb over, there was a wall. So we went to the right.
The wall broke the wind, but the drift was deep, and we wallowed in
it until the wind struck us again, and we could keep it on the left
shoulder. Afterwhile the dark was going. The day came howling, and it
was blind with flying snow. We could not stop, and so we walked and
walked with the wind upon our left.

“There was a creek hollow with brush in it, and some stray bison
were standing there behind the brush with their heads down. We ran
right into them and they did not move. They seemed asleep, and we
killed three with arrows. It was easy to drive the arrows back of the
forelegs, and we were hungry. While we butchered, the others moved away
and disappeared in the flying snow. The hot blood froze on our fingers,
but we got them skinned, and in the brush we made a shelter of the
fresh hides before they were too stiff with the cold. We could light
a fire in there, and when we had feasted on raw liver, Kicking Bear
told us to sleep awhile and he would watch the fire. I was dreaming
about Charging Cat when Kicking Bear ’wakened me. Then he slept, and
afterwhile I ’wakened High Horse and slept again.

“When night was coming, we were all awake and very hungry. So we
feasted. It was hard to cut the ribs apart before we broke them off.
The frozen meat was like wood. While we roasted the ribs and ate,
we talked about the others back yonder and how many would get home.
Would Big Mouth get away? We wished him dead. But most we talked about
Charging Cat. Was our prayer heard on the dark hill and our offering
accepted? Were we not feasting, safe and warm? Would the power protect
him too? Or would it pass him by because we did not take him with us to
the dark hill? We wondered about this.

“Next day the wind was dead. The sun came pale between two cold fires.
The air was like a knife.

“The next day after that we started home with all the meat we could
carry through the snow. We blackened our faces against snow blindness
with charred sticks from the fire.

“It was a long road, and the cold did not soften. When we came to
our village on the Powder, Big Mouth and another were there. They
were telling brave stories of the fight and were mourning for so many
comrades dead. They told of horses taken in battle from the Shoshonis,
and when the fight was over, they had ridden until the horses died. We
did not speak to them, and people wondered. Maybe they did not fight at
all. Maybe they caught loose horses straying yonder in the snow, while
we were killing riders, and started home. They could have found our
second camp back before the night. I do not know. It was a good place
to camp.

“People waited for their sons and brothers, and some for their fathers.
Two would come, and three, and four, with frozen feet and hands, and
some snow-blind. There were no songs of victory and no feasts with
brave stories. We were beaten and ashamed. People waited and waited,
and when a moon had passed, there was mourning in some tepees. And when
another moon had died, there was more mourning. He Crow did not come
back, nor his four brothers. Only the youngest brother, Running Wolf,
came back. The young grass appeared, and there were thirty who never
came. We did not see Charging Cat again.”




XXI

_The Cleansing of a Kills-Home_

“I have been thinking of Last Dog, the big-mouthed one,” Eagle Voice
began. Having attended to the fire, I had waited over long, while the
old man sat with closed eyes and drooping head, blowing softly now and
then upon his thumb-polished eagle-bone whistle. “Also I have been
thinking of He Crow and his brothers--of Running Wolf, the youngest,
most of all.

“Running Wolf was sick that winter and people said that he would die.
There was mourning for his brothers in his old father’s tepee where he
lay. He was hot all over with a fire that burned inside, and he would
cry out to his brothers in the battle. He would cry out, ‘Wait for
me! I am coming! Look back, for I am coming!’ and try to get up. No
_wichasha wakon_ could help him. The bad spirit would not go away, and
people said that soon he would go to his brothers.

“But he did not die. When the young grasses were appearing [April],
he got up and walked again. His face was sharp, and he was thin and
feeble, like an old man who has come at last to where the cane is. Also
he was like a ghost that comes and goes and will not talk to anybody.
People said he was _witko_, and tried not to notice him.

“I think the moon when ponies shed [May] was young when he disappeared.
His father’s best horse was gone too, and people talked and talked.
Maybe he was going forth to find an enemy and die. Maybe it was like
dreaming, the way he was, and some _witkokaga_ [crazy-making spirit]
told him he could find his brothers. The moon grew big, and withered,
and was dead in the dark. Then Running Wolf came riding back. He was
coming over the ridge, and the sun was going down behind him. His horse
was walking slow, and he was singing. All around the village people
watched him from their tepees to see what he would do, for when a man
is _witko_ he is _wakon_ [mysterious, sacred], and whatever he will do
they let him do it. When he came to the opening in the village hoop, he
stopped his horse, and we could see that his face was blackened and
his hair was cut off. He sat upon his horse and sang a song that he had
made, and the people, looking from their tepees, listened. The song was
like this, but I cannot remember to sing it right.

    “In a far country I have seen.
    Their bones I have seen.
    The wings of the air have feasted
    And the wolves are fed.
    On a lonely hill I have seen,
    In the country of the stranger;
    And my heart is cut into strings.

“Four times he sang it, sitting there on his horse; and while he sang,
he wept. Then he started his horse and began riding at a walk about
the hoop to the left, in the sacred manner. When he had ridden a
little way, he began singing again, and it was a death-song. He looked
straight ahead and sang, and the people watched him.

“When he came to Last Dog’s tepee, he stopped his horse and cried,
‘Last Dog, come out and look at me! You are a brave man, Last Dog! Come
out and make my heart glad!’

“Then Last Dog came out, and after him his woman, who was He Crow’s
sister, and Running Wolf’s, and she was holding her man back by his
arm. When Last Dog straightened up from stooping through the flap and
looked at Running Wolf, they say he tried to smile, but only looked
sick all at once. He was saying, ‘_Kola, kola_ [friend],’ and was
holding out his hand. And Running Wolf looked hard at Last Dog for a
while, and said, ‘I have seen where Last Dog butchered.’ Then he leaped
from his horse upon Last Dog and bore the man to the ground. His knife
was out, and the people near by saw it slash the throat, and stab and
stab into Last Dog’s breast, and with each stab, he grunted, ‘_hawnh!_’
It was still around the village where the people were looking; still
between one breathing and the next. Then the woman screamed and seized
her brother. But he threw her off and leaped upon his horse, and cried,
‘Let my brothers come and see where Running Wolf has butchered!’ And
then he put his horse into a run and fled, not through the opening into
the village but through the hoop of tepees; and the people watched him
over the ridge.

“That night the sister mourned in Last Dog’s tepee; and there was
mourning in the tepee of the dead man’s father, Standing Hawk. Some
of us who had fought Shoshoni horsebacks in the snow listened that
night and talked. A young woman could find another man, and maybe a
better one, when her hair grew long again. But Standing Hawk was old,
and Last Dog was the only son he had left. We did not say evil things
of Last Dog, for his spirit would be hearing; and we did not call him
Big Mouth; but we did not like him, and Running Wolf we liked, for we
knew how it was in his heart. We talked of Standing Hawk and of his
sorrow. He was a good old man. Everybody liked him, and he was one of
the _wichasha yatapika_, men of whom no evil could be said. For he was
a great warrior when he was younger, and he had always given to the
needy; and often when men spoke of _wachin tanka_ [magnanimity], they
remembered stories about him.

“We talked of Running Wolf too, hardly more than a boy, and of what
he had done. Hardly more than a boy, and a _te-wichakte_ [kills-home,
murderer], and all the people against him. We spoke low when we spoke
of him, for he had done the worst thing a man can do; and we liked
him. Maybe we would have done it, too, with five brothers feeding the
crows and wolves yonder. But we spoke low when we said it, for it was
the worst thing that he had done. Kill a stranger, many strangers, and
the people cried, ‘_hiyay_,’ and sang the victory song, and danced
the victory dance. Kill a Lakota and you killed a home, you broke the
sacred hoop of the people a little. Maka [the Mother Earth] herself you
struck when you killed. It was the worst thing a man could do.

“When the day came, the council got together; and when they had talked,
they sent for two _akichitas_, and to them the head chief said, ‘Find
Running Wolf and bring him here. If he will not come, then leave him
for the crows to eat where you find him.’ And the two _akichitas_ rode
away.

“They did not have very far to go, for the day was still young when we
saw three horsebacks coming over the ridge; and Running Wolf rode in
the middle with his chin upon his breast. Afterwards I heard how they
found him sitting on a hill and weeping, with his horse grazing near. I
think he had been crying there all night, and his anger was washed out
of his heart. When the two rode up and stopped their horses, he stood,
and looked at them; and if he had been _witko_, he was not so any more.
He just said, ‘I am ready.’

“While the three came riding, the people were out in front of their
tepees, watching all around the hoop. Old Standing Hawk was sitting
in front of his tepee, with his dead son, Last Dog, lying beside him,
washed and dressed, ready for the world of spirit. They had not wrapped
the dead man yet, so that the kills-home might look upon his face
again. In the center of the hoop the council and the chiefs and the
_wichasha yatapika_ were sitting, watching too. And there was nothing
to hear but the voices of the mourning ones.

“The three rode in through the opening and around the hoop, to the
left, with their horses walking slow, until they came to where the old
man sat beside his dead son. There they stopped and waited, facing the
mourner, and in the middle Running Wolf sat upon his horse with his
head hung low. When they had waited so for a while, old Standing Hawk
lifted his face to Running Wolf and said, ‘Come here and sit with me,
young man.’ Running Wolf got down and came. Then the old man pointed to
the body on the ground and said, ‘Sit there upon him while I speak to
you.’ And Running Wolf sat down upon the man he killed, with his face
in his hands. Then Standing Hawk raised a mourning voice, like singing,
and said, ‘I had a son, and he was all I had. One son I had, and now my
son is dead, and I am old, and there is none to look to in my need. One
son I had and Running Wolf has killed him. My days are made empty now,
and I am old.’

“People near by saw Running Wolf’s shoulders shaking and tears running
through his fingers.

“Then Standing Hawk took his pipe and filled and lit it, and to the
four quarters of the earth he offered it and to Wakon Tonka and to
Maka, the mother of all. And when this was done, he held the mouthpiece
of the pipe towards Running Wolf, and said, ‘Look up and do not fear.’
And Running Wolf looked up with tears upon his face, and took the pipe
and touched it with his mouth. And when the people saw this done, they
knew that he was sorry and would do whatever he was told; and with one
voice they cried, ‘_Hiyee!_ Thanks! _Hiyee!_’

“When the voice of the people was still, Standing Hawk spoke to Running
Wolf again, ‘My son, you have done the worst thing a man can do, but I
have seen your tears and looked into your heart. Do not be afraid of
anything, my son, for when you come again to me and are cleansed with
lamenting, you shall be my son until I die.’ Then he asked that a cup
of water be brought to him; and when it was brought, he gave Running
Wolf to drink, and tears fell into the cup. Then Standing Hawk said,
‘Bring food that my son may eat.’ And when meat was brought to him, he
cut it up himself and gave it to the killer of his son, and Running
Wolf ate a little of the meat with his tears upon it.

“Then the oldest man among the _wichasha yatapika_ stood up among his
brothers where they sat. He leaned upon his cane and looked around
the hoop where the people waited for his words, and his head shook.
They listened hard, for he was feeble and his voice came thin. ‘My
people, this day we have seen something that was given to the _wichasha
yatapika_ when they were chosen. It is a hard thing to do that we have
seen, but a man whom all praise must hold fast to his pipe and do what
he was taught when he was asked to sit among us. He was told that a
wounded dog with an arrow in his body would be brought to him, but he
would not be angry. He would hold fast to his pipe. This is what was
meant. This is what we have seen; and Standing Hawk has not forgotten.
His son has been murdered and brought back to him. You have seen him
hold fast to his pipe and remember what he was taught. It is _wachin
tanka_ [magnanimity] you have seen, and it is good to see.’ Then the
old, old man looked at Running Wolf sitting there upon the dead man,
with his tears upon his face, and said, ‘Young warrior, my grandson,
you have taken the place of him you killed. But first you must be
cleansed by praying and lamenting. To the four quarters you shall go
forth, and there shall be only strangers everywhere. The faces of your
own you shall not look upon. Three moons you shall wander and lament
and pray, thinking of this worst thing that you have done. For you
have killed a home. Maka, the mother of all, you have wounded, and
the sacred hoop of the people you have broken a little. Have a strong
heart, and come back cleansed, my grandson.’

“When the old, old man had spoken, the people did not cry out; they
only murmured all around the hoop, for they had seen and heard a great
thing.

“The two _akichitas_ had prepared a sweat-lodge, using only four sticks
to hold the hide. It was made to cleanse a _te-wichakte_, and he must
wander to the four quarters; so that is why they used four sticks.
And when the rocks were heated in a fire and placed inside the lodge
with forked poles, the unclean one went in there naked, and water was
thrown upon the stones. Then the two _akichitas_ dug a shallow hole in
front of the sweat-lodge, as deep as the thickness of a man and shaped
like him. And when the lodge was opened and Running Wolf came out,
they placed him in the hole, face down, and left him there a little
while. Thus they gave him back to the mother of all, who has shown
mercy to her children; and even this they could not do until his body
was cleansed in the sweat-lodge. But his heart was not yet clean, and
he was dead to his people. Those near could hear him weeping there and
see his shoulders shaking. And in a little while, they lifted him and
led him to where Standing Hawk was sitting. There he stood, naked and
weeping. And the old man said to those about him, ‘Bring clothing for
my son who is going on a long journey and may never come back. Also
bring to him my best horse and my bow and arrows and all that he shall
need, for I think his journey will be long and hard where there are
only strangers.’

“And when this was done, and Running Wolf was clothed, Standing
Hawk stood up and, for a little, held the young man’s head upon his
shoulder, then pushed him off and turned away. Then the _akichitas_
lifted the kills-home to the saddle, and with whips they struck him and
the horse, and drove him forth alone into the world of strangers. And
the people watched him going towards where you are always facing [the
south], until they could not see him any more.”

Eagle Voice ceased, and when he had sat motionless for some time with
closed eyes, I prompted, “And did Running Wolf come back?” Ignoring the
question that had brought him out of his reverie, he continued: “It was
good to die on the prairie for the people and to make a story for men
to hear. But if the kills-home died out there, no story would be told
and no song sung about him. A dead dog makes no story. The crows and
wolves are glad, and the voice of mourning is not heard. His very name
is evil in the mouth.

“Kicking Bear and High Horse had gone back home, and Charging Cat was
in the world of spirit; but some of us who fought Shoshoni horsebacks
in the snow would get together where we knew that no one heard, and
talk about him; but we could not take his name into our mouths. He
would be lamenting and praying at night on a lonely hill in the country
of the strangers until he slept. And when the day came, even Maka would
be staring at him with all her hills--like a stranger. When he sought
for food, there would be enemies watching him and lying in wait to kill
him. And if maybe a wandering band of Lakotas came in sight, he must
flee from them that they might not see his face. We liked him, and when
we talked of him our hearts were sad. We might have done it too if we
had seen the bones of our brothers scattered yonder.

“They did not put Last Dog upon a scaffold. Because he did not die as
meh should die, they buried him face down upon a hill. His relatives
could not follow him to that place, to mourn beside him through the
night. But some people said they saw his woman, the sister of the
kills-home, sneaking back to her tepee when the day was just beginning.

“When this was done, the village had to move, for there was an evil
spirit in that place. The game all went away to where Maka, the mother
of all, had not been wounded. And so the village moved over to the
valley of the Rosebud, where grass was good and there was wood in
plenty, and the game was not afraid.

“My heart was sick, and I wanted to see High Horse and Kicking Bear.
Also I thought much about my father lying yonder on his scaffold.
Sometimes I thought I would go and see him again. Then I would think
how still it was on that hill. Yonder I would listen, and maybe there
would be only the wind blowing. Then I would remember the voice of the
eagle on my hill of vision, ‘_Hold fast; there is more._’

“When the first moon was getting old, I rode alone towards where the
sun comes up. The Hunkpapas and Miniconjous would be camping near Pa
Sapa [the Black Hills], and I would see High Horse and Kicking Bear.
We would make plans for some great deed as we had done before; and if
we came back with scalps and horses, people would praise us again. If
we did not make a kill-come-back, we could die on the prairie. Then
Charging Cat would ride with us again, and I would see my father.

“While I was riding alone, I would be thinking these things. I
would be thinking more and more about High Horse, because we were
brother-friends. But when I would be thinking about him, I would be
seeing Tashina, maybe because she was a Miniconjou too and she would
be in the village. As I rode, I would be thinking of her standing by
the brush with her blanket about her face and looking at the ground. I
would hear her saying she was proud of me. Then I would hear the horses
squeal and break wind as they ran away. I was going to see High Horse,
but it would be good to see Tashina too. Maybe I would talk to her, and
we could laugh about when I used to be her horse.

“I came to Pa Sapa and saw the ashes of camping places. There were some
roving hunters of the Brûlés, and they said the villages had moved
beyond Pa Sapa, maybe beyond the Mini Shoshay. So I thought I would
ride yonder and look for High Horse and Kicking Bear. Maybe while I was
seeing my brother-friend, I would talk to Tashina alone, and we would
remember and laugh. It made me want to sing when I thought that. But
while I thought, I began to feel ashamed because she would not be proud
of me any more. The story of our fight with the Shoshonis would have
the wings of an eagle, and she would know. So I turned at last and rode
back towards the sunset and the Rosebud, for my power had left me and
my heart was sick.

“When I got back, the people were getting ready for the sun dance. No
one spoke of the kills-home or of Last Dog. They were gone where the
smoke goes when the fire is dead and there is only air. Their names
were gone where a cry goes when the echoes stop.

“My heart was sick, but I remembered how the power came to me in the
sun dance. So I danced again, and the hurt of the thong in my chest
was good. I saw again. I did not faint, for the power came strong upon
me, and the voice of the eagle was greater than the pain, ‘_Hold fast;
there is more._’”

The old man ceased and sat meditating with closed eyes. After a decent
interval I urged, ‘And Running Wolf?’ He regarded me with an absent
gaze that slowly focused upon my face.

“The Moon of Blackened Cherries [July] was gone,” he said, “and a new
moon had grown big. The day was young. There were some loose horses
coming over the ridge towards where the sun goes down. Some people saw
and pointed, and many were looking. We had no horses yonder, for ours
were all grazing in the valley. Then there was one horseback coming
behind the three loose horses. They were coming at a trot. It was
Running Wolf come back from being dead, and when the people knew, a cry
went up around the village, and the chiefs and councilors went forth to
welcome him. I think the people liked him and were happy, for he was
hardly more than a boy.

“When he drove his horses through the opening of the hoop, and rode
around the village, left to right, the song of welcome was so loud
that no one heard the song that he was singing; and he was holding up
a coup-stick with a scalp upon it. He had made a kill-come-back with
horses. There were tears upon his face--and it was thin, but it was
shining while he rode and sang.

“In front of Standing Hawk’s tepee he stopped his horses, and they
stood, with hanging heads, for they were very tired; and Standing Hawk
was waiting there. The song of the people was still, and everybody
listened. Then Running Wolf said, ‘My father, I have come back with a
clean heart to be your son until I die, and I have brought you horses.
They are few, but they are Shoshoni horses, and it is far to that
country. I was all alone and could not hold the others.’ Then Standing
Hawk raised his arms for his son to come to him, and Running Wolf got
down and put his head upon his new father’s shoulder. And all the
people cried, ‘_Hiyee!_ Thanks! _Hiyee!_’

“There was a victory dance for Running Wolf. When he made his
kill-talk, he was bashful and the words came broken. And when the
people praised him and the drums beat and the women’s tremolo was loud,
he stood like one ashamed, looking at the ground. And when the voices
and the drums were still, he said, ‘I prayed and prayed and Wakon Tonka
heard me.’

“Standing Hawk made a feast for the people and gave away all that he
had, because his son who was dead had come back home to him. But when
his hands were empty, the people began giving to him and his son, until
they had even more than before.

“And after that there was no Running Wolf. They called him Many
Horses.”




XXII

_Why the Island Hill Was Sacred_


“I did not know it then, for I was young,” the old man began after
a prolonged meditative silence. “All that time the sacred hoop was
breaking, but I did not know. Red Cloud’s people were calling us the
wild Lakota, because we would not eat Wasichu food and went on living
in the sacred manner. The hoop was smaller, but our country looked the
same. Only what we heard was different, but the words had traveled far;
and when we looked around us, the prairie and the hills were there and
the round sky above them. The morning star did not forget to come. The
sun measured the days and the moon the seasons. The creeks and rivers
ran, the wind blew, the snow came, the rain brought forth the young
grass for the bison and the elk and the deer. And Wakon Tonka heard on
any hill.

“But we were living on a big island, and the Wasichus were like great
waters washing all around it, nibbling off the edges, and it was
getting smaller, smaller, smaller. It is very small now. The people
have lost the sacred hoop, the good red road, the flowering tree. We
young men heard the others talk about Wasichus killing bison along
Shell River where the iron road had cut the herd in two; and beyond
that, farther towards where you are always facing [south], the land
stank with bison rotting. I heard them say Wasichus killed the bison
for their tongues, so many that no man could ever count them. Our
old men remembered Wooden Cup and what he saw and said before our
grandfathers were born. But I was young. Sometime we would get together
and kill all the Wasichus. We were young and we would do great deeds
and make a story for our grandchildren, and for theirs, and theirs.

“I think I was maybe seventeen winters old when I heard about horseback
soldiers with their wagons in Pa Sapa [the Black Hills], and Long Hair
[Custer] was their chief. That was the first time I heard his name.
Maybe I helped to kill him two grasses after that, for I was fighting
on the hill where he died; but I never saw him. I think if our people
had been living in one hoop, he and all his soldiers would have died in
Pa Sapa that time. Maybe that would have been better. I do not know.

“It was our land and it was _wakon_; for it was promised to us in a
vision so long ago that the fire and the bow were new to our fathers
then, and the sacred pipe had not yet been given to us.

“I will tell you what I heard the old men tell about Pa Sapa, and they
heard it from old men, and they from others; and no one knows how
long ago it was. The people were living then in a land that is many,
many sleeps yonder [pointing southeast]. Towards where you are always
facing [south], there was a great water [Gulf of Mexico]. Towards where
the sun comes up, there was a great water [the Atlantic]. The people
had become many, and I think they were not a nation yet. All were
relatives, but sons did not know their fathers, nor fathers their sons,
nor brothers their sisters. These people ate small animals and birds
that they could kill with rocks or maybe slingshots, and also roots and
berries that they could find. Their knives were only sharp pieces of
rock or shells; and all they ate was raw, because they had no fire.

“But there was a man among the people, and his name, they say, was
Moves Walking, the same as with our friend who ate with us. I think
he must have been the first _wichasha wakon_, for one day he had a
vision of the sun, and what the vision taught him, he showed to all the
people. He could bring fire down from the sun, and this he did with the
soap-weed as he had seen it in the vision. The root of this plant was
like hair, and when it was rotten and dry it was very soft. So he put
some of this on some hard dry wood. Then he took a dry stem of this
weed and made it square. The end he made pointed and round, and this he
pressed down through the soft stuff against the wood. When he had made
it whirl between his hands awhile, the sun gave him fire, as he had
seen it in his vision. This was a wonderful thing, and after that the
people could begin to be a nation.

“But they were not ready yet, for they were weaker and slower than the
big animals. So another man came up among the people, and they say
his name was Wakina Luta [Red Thunder]. I think he must have been the
second _wichasha wakon_, for one day when he was out hunting in the
woods all alone, he got lost. And when he had walked and walked and
could not find the way back, and was so tired he could hardly walk any
more, there came a great storm of wind and thunder. So he crawled in
under a rock. There was no rain--just wind and big thunders. And there
under the rock he went to sleep. All at once as he slept, there were
great voices calling, and they say it was the Thunder Beings that he
heard. Theirs is the power to make live and to destroy, for theirs are
the bow and the cup of water; and they live in the quarter where the
sun goes down. And the great voices said, ‘Arise, Wakina Luta, and come
with us. We are taking you to where there will be a great decision,
and by it the people shall live or they shall die. So in his dream Red
Thunder arose and followed the voices flying very fast, until he came
to a far place that was called The Island Hill; for it was a great hill
of many hills, standing high in the center of the hoop of the world.
Therein all animals lived with the birds, and the grass was green in
the valleys, and the trees on the slopes were many beyond counting, and
tall. Clear, cold streams were running and leaping and singing. All
flowers were living there of many colors, and among them happy deer
made fat and were not afraid. It was more beautiful than any land Red
Thunder ever saw before; and while he looked at it from above where he
was floating, the voices of the Thunder Beings came again, and they
said, ‘Here shall be the great decision; look about you.’ And when Red
Thunder looked, he saw the hoop of the world all about him, and at the
center was the Island Hill. And he saw that all the four-leggeds of the
earth were gathered on one side, and on the other all the wings of the
air, who are two-leggeds like us. They were all waiting for something.
Then the thunder voices spoke again and said, ‘These that you see shall
race around the hoop of the world. If the four-leggeds win, they will
eat you and the wings of the air. If the two-leggeds win, your people
shall live; the children of your children’s children’s children shall
possess this land; and the four-leggeds shall feed you.’

“Then the race began. The magpie, who knows everything, had a plan;
so he flew down and sat on the ear of a bison bull and there he rode
and waited. It was a long race, for the hoop of the world is great.
Sometimes a big wind came, so that the wings of the air could hardly
fly, and the four-leggeds were far ahead. Sometimes there would be a
very hot day, and the four-leggeds could hardly run, so that the wings
would be winning. A great rainstorm came roaring and many wings of the
air were killed. But still the race went on, and all the while the
magpie sat on the running bison’s ear and waited for something. Nobody
knows how long they raced, but it was long. Then one day they were
getting near the end. The four-leggeds were ahead, and they began to
cheer. All the kinds of four-leggeds were making the noises that they
knew, howling and roaring and screaming and barking, and growling and
neighing, so that the whole sky was filled with the fearful sound, and
the wide earth was afraid.

“But just before the end, the magpie, who was not tired at all, ’rose
high’ into the air and came swooping down upon the goal ahead of all
the others. Then the voices of the four-leggeds died away, and the
wide air was full of happy wings that soared and darted, swooped and
floated; and the geese cried high, and the crane; the eagles screamed,
and every bird that knows a song was singing.

“Then Wakina Luta heard the voice of thunder speaking once again, and
it said to him, ‘Your two-legged relatives, the wings of the air,
have won the race for your people. Your people shall live and possess
this land and the Island Hill after many snows and grasses, and the
four-leggeds shall keep and feed them.’ Then to the magpie the voice
of thunder spoke, ‘By thinking, you have won the race for all your
relatives, the two-leggeds. Hereafter you shall wear the rainbow in
your tail, and it shall be a sign of victory.’ And what was said is
true, for you can see it yet on every magpie. Also, it was true, as the
voice said, that the people should be like the birds, their relatives;
for it is like birds of prey that we fought, circling and swooping,
and in the beauty of the birds we dressed ourselves for battle and for
death.

“For a while the world was still, until the voice of thunder filled it
once again, and to Wakina Luta in his vision it was speaking: ‘Your
people still are weaker and slower than the big four-leggeds, so I
give you this that you may be stronger than they, and their fleetness
shall be slow.’ And when Wakina Luta looked, it was the great bow of
the Thunder Beings with a pointed arrow that was tailed for guiding
as the birds are tailed for guiding to a mark. And as he looked hard
to see how it was made, the bow twanged, and the arrow rose high with
the whisper of wings, and swooped like a hawk or an eagle; and yonder
far away a great bison bull went down with feathers sprouting from his
chest.

“The thunder voice rose again, ‘Behold!’ And Wakina Luta in his vision
saw a strange four-legged that might have been a dog, but was not, for
no dog could grow so tall. It was a _shonka wakon_ [sacred dog, horse],
and as he looked and wondered, it raised its head and sent forth a high
shrill voice that ran far and was like a victor singing. And the voice
said, ‘You shall know him after many grasses in this land, and he shall
be your friend and give you fleetness.’

“Then Red Thunder awoke under his rock and the world was still. So,
with the vision living in him, he found his way back to the people; and
all that he had seen, he told. Also he made a bow like that he saw and
a feathered arrow; and he showed the young men how to make and use it.

“After that, the old men say, another man came up among the people,
and Slow Buffalo is what they called him. I think he was the third
_wichasha wakon_, for what he did a vision must have taught him. One
day he called all the people together, and from among them he chose the
oldest and wisest to sit with him. To these he gave a name, calling
them a council. And to these he told what I think a vision must have
shown him, while all the people listened. He said the people had grown
to be too many for that place, and now with fire and the bow they could
wander and go anywhere. For the first time he gave a name to each of
the quarters of the world: Where the Sun Goes Down [west], Where the
White Giant Lives [north], Where the Sun Comes Up [east], and Where
You Are Always Facing [south]. Towards the last place the people could
not go, for there the great water was near, and from thence a race of
strangers would come. The people should be divided into three, and each
should become a nation. One would go towards Where the Sun Comes Up,
one to Where the Sun Goes Down, and the last towards Where the White
Giant Lives. Each as it went must name all things, and these names
would be a tongue.

“Then Slow Buffalo told them about fathers and mothers, sisters and
brothers, grandfathers and grandmothers. These he named for the first
time. They should live together with one fire, and the fire would
be holy. The old would guide the young; the young would give their
strength to the old; and all together would give one strength to the
nation, that it might be strong and live. The nation, he said, was
itself a being with a grandfather, a grandmother, a father, and a
mother. The Great Mysterious One is the grandfather, the Earth is the
grandmother, the Sky is the father, and the mother is where the growing
things come out of the ground and nurse with all that live. When Slow
Buffalo had done this, he got together with the council and they chose
leaders for the nations and called them chiefs. Each nation he divided
into seven bands. Then the people started, each band with its central
fire, which was holy, and its chiefs and council.

“I think the Lakotas came from those who wandered towards the Great
White Giant; and it was while they were going that a vision was sent to
them. I will tell you how the old men told it. Two young men were out
hunting together when they saw something coming; and when it was nearer
they knew it was a young woman, very good to see, dressed in fine white
buckskin, and all about her was a shining white mist. And when one of
the young men saw her, he had bad thoughts of her, and this she knew.
So she said to the first young hunter, ‘Come, then, and do as you wish
with me.’ But when he came near to her, the shining mist enclosed him
and became a dark cloud with lightning in it. And when the cloud was
gone and the shining white mist came back, the young man’s bones were
scattered on the prairie. Then the young woman said to the second young
hunter, ‘Your thoughts are good, and to you I give this sacred thing
for all the people. Behold!’ It was a pipe; and while she held it out,
she told the meanings that it had. The eagle feather, hanging from
the bowl, meant the grandfather of all, the father of fathers, Wakon
Tonka. Also it meant that the thoughts of those who smoked should rise
high as the eagles do. The bison-hide upon the mouthpiece was for the
grandmother of all, the mother of mothers; and he who touched it with
his lips would know that he nursed with all living things. The four
thongs hanging from the stem were colored like the quarters of the
world--blue, white, red, yellow. The pipe and the morning star would
stand for the power of the quarter where the sun comes up. Yonder the
morning star brings light and wisdom and understanding. The pipe gives
peace that comes from understanding. With the morning star and the pipe
we should love each other and live together as brothers.

“I think the people forgot these things. Maybe they multiplied so fast
that they got to quarreling and split up into many new bands that grew
to be strangers with different names for things, different tongues. And
maybe one of these bands grew big and became our people, the Lakotas.
Even then, the old men say, there was not yet any war. But once the
Lakotas found one of their hunters killed and scalped by a band of
these strangers. So our people were angry; and when they came upon the
band that had done this thing, they cut off all the strangers’ heads,
so that there could be no war again. Maybe that is why the strangers
used to call us cut-throats. But I think all the heads must have grown
back on, for we have been fighting ever since. And after that, whatever
people did not speak our tongue, we knew them for our enemies. But
within the sacred hoop of our own people the ancient teaching lived and
the power of the pipe was mighty.

“After these things had happened, there were many snows and grasses; I
do not know how many. Then we came at last to the Island Hill that was
promised long ago, and it was a sacred place. Because the pines upon it
made it black a long way off, we called it Pa Sapa [black heads, the
Black Hills]; and all the land around it was ours.

“Farther on towards where the sun goes down, there was a people that
we called the Shyela [Cheyenne]. It was they who found the _shonka
wakon_ [horse] first. They were hunting from where they lived towards
where you are always facing, and in a valley by a spring there stood
this strange four-legged with long hair upon its neck and tail. It was
living wild, but it was tame. At first the hunters were afraid, but
after there was a council to talk about it some hunters were sent to
catch it, and this they did with lariats of hide. And after some moons,
this _shonka wakon_ had a young one. Then one day when it was making
a high shrill noise, another _shonka wakon_ came, and this one was a
stallion. So after that the Shyela had horses, and the Lakota traded
for them, giving bows and arrows and beaded moccasins and clothing. The
Arapahoes also found many horses and with them too the Lakota traded;
and these peoples and the Lakota were friends after that, although
their tongues were not the same. The old men said it was from the
Wasichus who were towards where you are always facing [Spaniards] that
the first horses ran away, and that is why they were so tame at first.

“So we had come at last to the Island Hill as the vision had foretold,
and the land around it was ours and it was holy. There we lived in the
sacred hoop with the sacred fire and the pipe; and the bow and the
_shonka wakon_ made us mighty.

“But when I was about seventeen winters old, a long dust of horseback
soldiers with their wagons came down upon Pa Sapa, and I heard their
chief was Long Hair. They came to look and went away; but they had seen
the yellow metal [gold] that makes Wasichus crazy; and I think the
whole Wasichu nation heard about it. So when the young grass came again
and died, big trouble started.”




XXIII

_Fighting the Gray Fox_


As the old man had foreseen, a melting wind had risen with the waning
of the softened day, and the night came roaring with no cloud. Next
morning, when again we sat together, the puffing wood-fire grumbled to
the gusts of false April, and the tepee canvas bellied, whipping the
poles.

“It was a wind like this,” said Eagle Voice; “a big wind, strong and
roaring, but it was full of snow and cold. I think I was eighteen
winters old that time, and it was in the Moon of Snowblinds [March].
We of the Oglala band had our winter village in the valley of the
Powder, not far from where the Little Powder comes in. I think there
were fifty or sixty lodges of us; and when our Cheyenne friends came
from Red Cloud’s agency to visit and trade with us, I think there were
a hundred smokes in our village. We had plenty of _papa_ and _wasna_
and buffalo robes, and the Cheyennes came with powder and guns and
canvas tepees they had got from the Wasichus. Also, they came with more
word of the big trouble about Pa Sapa. They were saying down yonder
that the Wasichus would drive us into those little islands that Wooden
Cup had seen long ago; and there we would have to turn ourselves into
Wasichus, so that our country could be taken from us. We knew that Gray
Fox [General Crook] was in the country and that he had many walking
soldiers and horsebacks waiting for the young grass. I was out on a
hunting party just before this happened that I am going to tell you,
and we saw some of the soldiers. But it was long before the grass, and
not yet the time for war, so we were not afraid.

“When our Cheyenne friends came to visit us, there was feasting, for we
had plenty, and I heard much talk around the fire at night about the
trouble, and about a big village the crazy Wasichus had built in Pa
Sapa. But there was talk about the old times, too, when everything was
better; and old men told stories that were good to hear, so that those
who told and we who heard did not sleep soon.

“It happened when the day had just come and the people were sleeping
yet. I thought I was dreaming of many horses galloping and guns
shooting and men yelling; but I was not dreaming. We all ran out of
our tepee, but I thought of my quirt and hung it around my neck, down
my back, as I ran with my gun. Out there all the people were running
towards the bluff--men and women and children mixed up and running,
screaming and shouting; horseback soldiers galloping and shooting all
over the village; women running with babies, old people hobbling,
horses rearing and knocking tepees over! It was day, but there was no
sun. The wind was strong and full of snow and horses’ heads--something
like the fight with the Shoshonis. It was very cold, and we had little
clothing, but I did not feel the wind’s teeth. I ran against a man, and
when I saw his face, it made me strong, for it was Crazy Horse. He was
carrying some little boy on his back, and he was yelling for the men
to gather about him behind the women and the old ones. Some near by
heard and others saw, and many gathered about him, and more and more.
We fought back of the running women and children, but we could not do
much. When we were crowded up along the side of the bluff, the canvas
tepees were burning down yonder, and the powder the Cheyennes had
brought was going off--_boom, boom, boom!_ Tepees and poles flying in
the snow wind.

“On the bluff I was not far from Crazy Horse and I heard him crying,
‘We are going back! Let us die today, brothers!’ Then we all
began singing the death-song and started back, charging down the
hill--Lakotas and Cheyennes, all mixed up and singing. The cowards and
baby-killers yonder did not wait long to fight us. I think they did not
want to die that day. They galloped away up the valley of the Powder;
and there was only the sharp wind blowing full of snow. A few tepees
were standing, and some were smoking yet. I saw dead children trampled
by the iron hoofs of the horses, and women with babies dead or wounded
in the snow.

“When the soldiers ran away, the women and children and old people came
swarming down from the bluff; and the mourning was louder than the wind
among the scattered homes.

“There were two bands of horseback soldiers, and only one attacked the
village. The others were driving our horses away--five or six hundred,
maybe more. So we made a war party to go after our herd. When we had
put on what clothes we could find we started after the soldiers, _maka
mani_; and Crazy Horse led us, Lakotas and Cheyennes. The soldiers
were in a hurry, and some of the horses got away from them. We had to
catch strays, and the horseback soldiers had a big start. They did not
stop all day. _Lela oosni!_ It was cold, very cold; and the wind was
strong. Sometimes we would have to run and lead the horses to keep from
freezing.

“When it was dark we were near where another creek we called Lodge
Pole comes in, and we began to be careful. The soldiers could not run
away all night, and we knew that was a good place to camp. So four
scouts went out on foot, and I was one. We ran into the herd. They were
huddled together with their heads down and rumps to the wind.

“They were like the bison we found in the snowstorm that time, and they
did not notice us. I think there were no guards. We did not find any.
At the mouth of the creek there were little fires that did not make
much light; and when we crept up through the brush to look, it was good
to see what we saw there. The Wasichu horses were standing with their
heads down and rumps to the wind, and some that I could see had their
saddles on. Maybe all of them had. The soldiers were humped up over
little brush fires that could not warm them. It looked as though the
baby-killers were going to freeze to death. That was good to see.

“When we told the others, Crazy Horse said it was not the time to
fight. There would be plenty of fighting when the grass was new. We
came for our horses, and we would not stop to kill soldiers. Let the
cold do it. So we began driving the herd. It was hard to start them
back into the wind, but we got them moving and pushed them hard down
the valley. The soldiers must have heard us, but they did not follow.
It was good to think maybe they were freezing to death back there.

“When the night was old, we drove the herd against a bluff that broke
the wind, and made good fires with some logs we found there. Crazy
Horse said we could sleep and he would watch. It was the second time
I heard him say that. The other was when I was on my first war party
beyond Mini Shoshay. He was only about thirty winters old, but he was
like a father to us who followed him. So we scraped the snow away about
the fires and slept with our bellies to the ground. I awoke right
away, and it was early morning without wind. The sky was clear and the
morning star looked big and sharp. It was very cold. The fires were
still burning, and he was sitting as I saw him before I slept. He was
_wakon_. Sometimes when I think about him now, I wonder and wonder. But
then I did not think so much, for I was young.

“When the sun was high, another band of Gray Fox’s horseback soldiers
attacked us, and we shot at each other, but it was not much of a
fight. The herd was strung out when the soldiers came, for the horses
were very tired and it was hard to keep them going, so we lost some
of them--maybe a hundred. Our band was not big enough to follow the
soldiers and drive the herd too, so we kept on down the Powder valley
with maybe four hundred. When we got back, the people were all ready to
move and they were waiting for the horses. So we moved down the valley
to Sitting Bull’s village not far from the river’s mouth. We were
poor and they took us in with them. There we lived in patched tepees,
waiting for the grass. And the anger of the people grew.

“The snow melted; warm winds came with rain; and when the new grass
was high enough to make horses strong, our relatives began coming in
to our village--sometimes a big band, sometimes a few _iglakas_; and
more and more they came and the village grew and grew. Then we all
moved over to the valley of the Rosebud, deeper into our own country.
If Gray Fox wanted his soldiers killed, let him bring them to us there.
We would not hunt the soldiers, and we would not go into the little
islands the Wasichus made so that they could starve us and steal our
country. There on the Rosebud more and more of our relatives came; also
Cheyennes and Arapahoes. It was a long camp, and it grew and grew;
seven hoops of people; Cheyennes, Oglalas, Miniconjous, Sans Arcs,
Hunkpapas, some Santees, Yanktonais, Brûlés, Arapahoes; and horses,
horses, many horses. Some of the people came from Red Cloud’s agency;
but Red Cloud did not come. We said maybe his skin was getting white
and he was turning into a Wasichu. Spotted Tail also was eating Wasichu
food. Some came from along the Mini Shoshay with guns they got from
Wasichu traders. There were many, many guns in the camp. Many men
with big names were there, Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Gall, Big Road,
Black Moon, Crow King. The big names I always knew, but some of the
men I never saw before. We knew there were soldiers on both sides of
us, on the Yellowstone and on Goose Creek; but we waited there. If the
soldiers wanted to be killed, let them come to us. That was our country.

“When the cherry seeds hardened, there was a big sun dance. I danced
with the thong in my chest, and for a little I saw the other world; but
after the thong tore out of the flesh, I could see only with my eyes.
But I could feel a great power. Nobody noticed me that time, for many
with big names were dancing.

“Sitting Bull was the principal dancer, and the people watched him
most of all; for he was a great _wichasha wakon_, and he could see
things far away and things that were going to happen. For a long time
he danced and hung from the tree by the thong in his back. When it
tore out, he fell to the ground and lay like dead for a while. Then
he awoke; and when they carried him into the sacred lodge, he told a
vision that came to him in the world of spirit, and it spread among
the people so that everybody knew and talked about it.

“He was camped with all the people in a place that looked like the
valley of the Greasy Grass [Little Big Horn]; but it was not the same,
for it was glowing and made of spirit. He could see the happy people
feasting, each band in its hoop, and the children playing; and on the
glowing hills near by fat horses grazed and had their fill of grass
that was greener than the youngest grass of this world. Then he saw
that a whirling cloud of dust was coming fast from where the sun comes
up; and as it came nearer it filled the heavens, so that a darkness
fell upon the valley and the village. The cloud was full of shouting,
as of men in battle, and screaming as of frightened horses, and
thunder as of many guns shooting together. Then a strange rain began
to fall out of the dust cloud, a dry rain full of shouting. For it was
not water that fell, but soldiers, soldiers, soldiers; all dead and
tumbling upside down and over and over as they came falling, until they
were heaped and scattered in the twilight of the cloud.

“When the people heard about this vision, they said, ‘There will be a
great victory. Many soldiers will come, and they will die.’ So there
was a power among the people, and their hearts were strong.

“A little after this I was with a hunting party over on the Greasy
Grass, and High Horse and I were together again, for he had come back
with his people. Our breasts were very sore from the sun dance, but we
both said the pain made us feel stronger. The hunting was not good,
so we went back up the Greasy Grass to Ash Creek, and up the creek to
where the people had moved while we were gone. Some Cheyennes came
there and told about Gray Fox’s soldiers coming down the Rosebud. So
there was a council and it was decided that our warriors should go back
there and attack the Gray Fox by surprise.

“The sun was going down behind us when we started, and I think there
were more than a thousand of us, Sioux and Cheyenne. We rode in a long
column with _akichita_ in front and on both sides to watch for soldiers
and hold the warriors back until we could all attack together. Sitting
Bull and Crazy Horse were with us; but I heard that Sitting Bull was
too sick and crippled from the sun dance to fight, and came along to
encourage the warriors.

“When the morning star was just coming up in front of us, we stopped to
rest the horses and let them eat; and while they grazed we ate what we
had with us. Daybreak came, and when the hills began to stare at us, we
started again, riding in a column four abreast with the _akichita_ out
ahead of us to watch for soldiers. We were coming close to the place
on the Rosebud where we had the sun dance, and the river ran through a
canyon there. If we could catch the soldiers in the canyon, maybe it
would be like Sitting Bull’s vision. High Horse and I talked about that
as we rode. Maybe it was not the Greasy Grass he saw; maybe it was the
Rosebud where there would be a rain of dead soldiers in the dust cloud.

“We were getting close, and the dawn was coming. The _akichita_ rode
up and down the column and made the warriors stop talking. Then we
could see that the sun was up back of the ridge ahead of us and it was
shining on the hilltops. The Rosebud was just the other side of the
ridge, and the _akichita_ out ahead were just coming to the top. High
Horse and I were among the fronters because we had won honors.

“All at once there were horses’ heads and men’s heads on the ridge
right in front of us! It was a small party of the Gray Fox’s Crow
scouts out looking around.

“When we saw the Crows, we all forgot about the surprise. Everybody
was yelling. We whipped our horses and went over the ridge on the
run. The _akichita_ tried to stop us, but we rode right through
them. _Hokahey! Hokahey!_ Most of the Crows got away, but there were
plenty of soldiers, walking and horseback, down there in the valley.
When we swung to one side to attack the horsebacks, I could see all
our warriors swarming over the ridge. Nobody was leading us. We did
not circle the soldiers; we just rode in among them all mixed up,
and killing the nearest ones with spears and knives and war clubs.
Sometimes we would knock them off their horses, then jump down and
beat them to death. I saw a Cheyenne cut off a soldier’s arm and ride
away with it. Once I saw Crazy Horse, and he was not trying to guide
the warriors, he was just fighting like the rest of us. I did not
see Sitting Bull, but they say he was in there shouting to the young
warriors to give them courage.

“I do not know how long we were fighting there; but all at once the
horseback soldiers were gone, and I saw our warriors charging up the
valley where many Shoshonis and Crows were getting ready to charge us.
We were fighting them, and I think we were going to rub them out; but
all at once some horseback soldiers were coming from behind us. Then
I could hear our people crying, ‘Take courage! Let us die here! Think
of the women and children!’ So we charged back against the horseback
soldiers and made them run; but while we were in among them, the Crows
and Shoshonis felt braver because of the soldiers, and they charged
us. Many of our people began to run away out of the fight crying,
‘_Yea-hey!_’ High Horse and I were with them. All at once we were on
the hillside out of the fighting, and I could see the broad valley full
of fighting in bunches--scattered and all mixed up. I do not think
anybody was winning--just mixed up and fighting. When we had watched
awhile we felt ashamed; so we charged down into the fighting, yelling
to each other, ‘This is a good place to die! Take courage! _Hokahey!_’
Then there was dust, with shouting and guns shooting and men and horses
in the dust. Nobody was leading us; we were just hitting the nearest
soldier. High Horse and I were brother-friends and we kept together
all the time, helping each other. Sometimes we would be out of the
fighting, then we would be in again. It was that way all day. Then the
sun was setting and our warriors were leaving the valley, riding back
up the ridge towards the sunset. The soldiers did not follow us. I
think they were as tired of fighting as we were. Most of us rode back
to our village that night, but some stayed around there to see what the
Gray Fox was going to do. In the morning he went back up the valley
with all his soldiers. Some said we whipped him. Some said we did not.
I do not know. But it was not the rain of dead soldiers that Sitting
Bull saw in his vision.

“Nothing touched me all day; I think it was the quirt that protected
me. I did not think about my sore breast, but it was sorer that night.
Nothing touched High Horse either. Maybe the quirt protected both of us
that time because we stayed so close together.”




XXIV

“_It Was a Great Victory_”


“I was young then,” Eagle Voice continued after we had sat silent for
a while, hearing the high wind and the whipping of the canvas on the
poles. “I was young and strong, and I could still believe that sometime
we would drive all the Wasichus out of our country. But now, when I can
look back and see how it was going to be, it makes me sad to remember
the fight on the Greasy Grass. It was a few days after we fought the
Gray Fox on the Rosebud, and it was a great victory. But you see us now.

“Our whole camp had moved over into the valley of the Greasy Grass near
the mouth of Spring Creek. High Horse and I were with a small party
scouting and hunting over towards where the Gray Fox went after the
fight. We did not see any soldiers, and the hunting was not good. It
was late in the morning when we got home to the village on the Greasy
Grass. The hoops of the bands were strung out a long way on the flat
beside the river; and across the water, towards where the sun comes
up, there are high bluffs. It was an old camping place and we liked to
be there. Plenty of good water, plenty of good grass for the horses,
plenty of wood. It was a good place to swim and fish too, and we always
had fun there. On the other side, away from the river towards where the
sun goes down, was open prairie sloping, and with one look we could see
all the horses grazing. There were many, many. There were thousands, I
think.

“Our small scouting party came from up the river, and the hoop of
Sitting Bull’s people, the Hunkpapas, was the first one we came to. Not
far from there were the Miniconjous, High Horse’s band. The Oglalas
were farther down stream.

“We were riding across the Hunkpapa hoop, and some of the people
were asleep or just getting up, because they had been dancing the
victory dance all night. There was an old, old woman who saw me.
She was cooking some meat in a pot. I knew her because she was my
grandmother’s friend and they liked to help each other. As I rode by
her, she looked up and said something. The wind had come up and it
was getting stronger all the time, so I did not hear what she said
at first. When I stopped my horse she spoke louder and said, ‘_Natan
uskay! Natan uskay!_ [Attackers are coming fast].’ And I said, ‘Where
are they coming, Grandmother?’ And she answered in a high voice that
sounded like scolding a dog that is stealing meat: ‘_Grandson, I said
Natan uskay!_’ Then she went on stirring her pot.

“High Horse said to me, ‘Do you think she knows?’ And I said, ‘I know
that old woman, and there’s something to it. I’m going home to get
ready.’ High Horse said he would do that too, and then we’d come back.
So I galloped on towards our hoop farther down stream. I could see
people were excited, and some men and boys were out catching horses.
When I got home my step-father was gone, but my mother and little
brother and my grandfather and grandmother were there. They were tying
some things up in bundles; and my mother said, ‘Soldiers are coming,
they say! You’d better get ready! There’s meat in the pot.’ But I did
not stop to eat. I stripped myself and put some paint on my face. While
I was doing this, my grandfather said, ‘That’s right, Grandson! It is
good to be young and die for the people. Nothing lasts, and it is not
good to grow old.’ Then I took my fast-shooting gun that came from
Wasichu traders on Mini Shoshay, and ran out to get a fresh horse.

“Just then there was shooting up river where the Hunkpapas were--like
ripping a big blanket by jerks; and a big noise of yelling grew yonder.

“I ran into my cousin who was bringing in some horses, and one of
them was mine; so I took it, and rode towards where the big noise
came from. But it was spreading all along the valley now. Women and
children and old people were running down the river towards me. Women
were screaming, men were shouting and running for their horses. Some
were riding or running on foot towards the attackers yonder. It was so
crowded at first where I was that I could not ride fast. So I turned
out to the right into the prairie, and the whole flat along the stream
was covered with the big mixed, singing noise that floated above the
people.

“Just then I ran into Red Feather, a young fellow like me, and he was
bringing some horses. They were rearing and pulling at the lariats, and
he was having a hard time with them, because they were excited too. One
of them was my best horse, big and a good runner. Not Whirlwind; he was
wolf-meat long before that. This one was a roan with a crooked white
patch around his left eye and nearly over to his left ear. He had a
white look in that eye when he was excited, and he never got tame.
Sometimes he ran away with me, but he never got tired. So I got on this
horse and gave the other to a man who was running on foot towards the
attackers.

“I rode on the run towards where the big excitement was. There was an
old Hunkpapa woman pointing a gun at a man on the ground. He was a
Hunkpapa too and he was sitting holding himself up with his hands back
of him. I stopped my horse to see what the old woman was doing to the
Hunkpapa. His breast was all bloody. The woman pointed the gun at his
head, and it snapped but did not go off. The man said, ‘Don’t kill me,
Grandmother; I will be dead soon anyway.’ The woman screamed at him and
said, ‘You sneaking dog! Why did you come with the soldiers to kill
your relatives?’ Then the gun went off and the man fell over.

“I could see that horseback soldiers were running away up stream. They
were strung out along the river bank, and they were not fighting much,
just running away, with many, many Lakotas swarming against them and
pushing them towards the water that was running deeper than a horse’s
belly. I rode into the crowd and began knocking soldiers off their
horses with the butt of my gun. It was easy to do. It was easier than
shooting, for it was not like a fight. It was more like hunting cows.
There was a Lakota on a white horse and he was killing soldiers with a
sword he got in the Rosebud fight.

“The soldiers were jumping their horses into the river, and many
Lakotas were jumping after them. It was bad in there--horses and men
mixed up and fighting. Sometimes they would wrestle--like the game we
used to call ‘Throwing-them-off-their horses.’ They would go under and
come up fighting, and go under. I held back and shot fast at soldiers
and horses climbing out on the other side. Maybe I killed some; I
do not know. My horse was crazy and I shot while he was dancing and
whirling; but the soldiers and horsebacks were all crowded together
yonder, and maybe I hit some. It was like shooting into a stampeding
buffalo herd crowding up a steep hill. I was staying out that way
because I was looking for High Horse. He would be there because his
camp was close to the excitement.

“There was a Ree scout trying to break through to the river bank, and I
saw a Lakota leap from his horse onto the Ree. They went down together,
and for a little I could not see them. Then the Lakota was up on his
feet, trying to find his horse in the crowd of warriors. I saw his
face, and it was High Horse. So I pushed in there and he got up behind
me. He had a long knife and it was bloody. He was panting hard and
he kept saying, ‘I cut that one’s neck off, the Ree dog!’ He sounded
crazy. I think we were all a little crazy by then.

“I pushed out through the crowd of warriors looking for another horse.
There were some down and kicking, and some running this way and that
way. Some Cheyennes were just getting into the fight from down river,
and when they came swarming on the run towards us they chased a big
Wasichu horse right into us. High Horse caught its bridle rein and
leaped into the saddle.

“There was a big smoke down stream where our people were burning
soldiers out of the brush and grass. Then all at once we saw that our
warriors yonder were turning back down the valley, and those about us
began yelling that more soldiers were coming that way. So High Horse
and I started on the run towards where the others were going, and
we kept close together. Where the fire was we saw some Lakota boys
shooting with their bows and arrows at a soldier dodging around in the
brush. I think he had lost his gun and was trying to get away from the
fire.

“We were in a river of warriors, and I heard afterwards it was Crazy
Horse who was leading yonder; but I did not see him. Yonder ahead of us
on the hillside we saw horseback soldiers, and they were turning back
up the hill. There is a fast shallow place in the river where we used
to cross, and on the other side, towards where the sun comes up, there
is a deep draw that runs back through the bluff. Our warriors and many
Cheyennes were pouring up this draw like a flood running backwards, and
we were in it. I heard afterwards that warriors farther down stream
were coming up around the bluffs on the other side from us. I did not
know anything then. High Horse and I were just charging up the deep
draw with all the others, and men were yelling to each other, ‘It’s a
good day to die! Take courage! Think of the women and children down
there! _Hokahey! Hokahey!_’ And we whipped each other’s horses.

“When we got to the top, it was all a big noise and a big dust. The
wind was very strong and the day was hot and the earth was dry. Horses,
horses, horses, all mixed up and making a high dust in the big wind.
Yelling and singing and shooting and horses’ hoofs, thousands of
horses’ hoofs pounding. It was steady thunder with a long screaming on
top of it. It was not like night, but it was not day either. Horses and
men were shadows flying this way and that way.

“All at once there were soldiers around us, soldiers standing together.
I did not see any swords. I did not try to shoot. I think I hit one
with my gun butt. I did not see him fall. High Horse was still close
beside me, and I saw him slashing with his knife. Then there was only
dust and noise and no soldiers. So we swung around and charged back.
There were soldiers again, all on foot and huddled together. Our horses
knocked them over. I could feel them under my horse. Then there was
dust with shadows flying. There were two soldiers coming on foot right
towards us out of the dust. They were making motions like running,
but they were only walking. When we were nearly on them, they shot
their guns straight up. Both went down under our horses; and all at
once there were three horseback soldiers. We all came together and the
horses reared. I hit the nearest soldier on the head with my gun butt
and he fell off. My gun flew out of my hands. Then I saw High Horse
leap onto another one with his knife. I heard a gun go off. I think it
was the third one shooting, but when I looked he was gone in the dust.
High Horse and the soldier were on the ground. When I got off to help,
my horse tried to break away. He was screaming and rearing. The rope
was tied around his lower jaw, and I held him, but he dragged me. When
I got him back to where High Horse and the soldier were on the ground,
they were hugging each other. The knife was in the soldiers neck, and
he was coughing spurts of blood. When I pulled High Horse away, the
knife came too. Then he went limp. Blood was coming out of his back
and chest. He did not hear me when I called to him. I think that was
when my horse broke loose. Then I had High Horse on my back and I was
running. There were shadows flying by. Then there was only dust. Then
all at once there was a white sun shining, and I was on a hillside
alone and the roaring was yonder.

“I sat beside High Horse and cried hard because I would never see him
again in this world. While I was crying I felt his blood all over me,
and a power came into me. I wanted to kill soldiers and die. So I
called to High Horse, ‘My brother, look back as you are going, for I
will be coming too! Look back and wait, for I will be coming soon!’”

Eagle Voice fell silent, and for some time he sat gazing at the
slatting canvas wall of the tepee, while the high wind carried on the
story without words. At length he looked at me and, with a faint smile,
said: “You can see that he has been waiting long. It is not good. I ran
back towards the dust cloud and the roaring yonder, and I was crying
hard. I wanted to die killing Wasichus. There was a gun on the ground
and I picked it up for a club. There were soldiers’ horses with their
reins tied together and they were running around in a little circle,
rearing and pulling against each other. I got on one and rode at a run
into the dust, looking for soldiers to kill and one to kill me. Then
I was out on the other side. Wasichu horses were breaking out of the
dust and warriors were chasing them. I did not want any horses then. I
wanted to kill and die. So I rode back into the dust and it was getting
thinner. There were soldiers on the ground. There were no soldiers
standing.

“The big noise died. The sun began to shine again. I rode back to High
Horse and sat beside him awhile. I remembered and cried. The Wasichu
horse did not try to run away. He stood with his head down. I think
he was worn out. Afterwhile I lifted High Horse and put him behind
the saddle. Then I started home with him. The power was gone out of
me. There was no dust and no noise. Horseback warriors were standing
scattered over the hill, just looking. The women and boys were swarming
up from the valley looking for wounded soldiers to kill.

“I took him home to his father’s tepee among the Miniconjous. Big fires
burned that night and the people were dancing the victory dance until
morning. I did not dance. I remembered and remembered, and the power
was gone from me. I cried all night.”




XXV

_The Woman Who Died Twice_


“It was a great victory,” the old man said at last. He had been sitting
like the embodiment of the brooding stillness outside. Yesterday’s
booming warm wind had died late in the night, and it had seemed that
the still, soft dawn needed only a meadowlark to be April.

When he had filled and lighted his pipe, he drew a long draft and
passed the pipe to me. “_Dho_,” he said, “that was a great victory; but
you see us now. I do not like to think of it. We all went away from
there towards the mountains, and there was feasting and dancing, for
we had killed many enemies. But my heart did not sing when I danced.
High Horse was my brother-friend, and he was waiting for me yonder in
the world of spirits.” For a while the old man gazed in silence at the
ground. Then he squinted at me with a pucker of suppressed amusement
about his eyes, and said, “Maybe he will not know me when I come at
last, bent low and walking on three legs.” He chuckled and was still
again.

“But what about Tashina, Grandfather?” I asked, and had to wait for an
answer.

“I saw her at the sun dance on the Rosebud,” he said. “She looked at
me again the way she used to do, and I was glad she was not angry with
me any more. But my head was full of war and great deeds to be done. I
saw her once again after we had rubbed out Long Hair and his horseback
soldiers on the hill. But then my heart was sick because of High Horse.
It was the way I told you. There was a road I did not see until I had
walked across the world.

“It was a victory, but now I can see that it was the end of the old
days. The Wasichus were coming and coming, more and more Wasichus,
and the bison would soon be gone. While we were camped near the
mountains some of our people began to leave us, one _iglaka_, two,
three _iglakas_ at a time. They were going back to the agencies. We
heard of many soldiers getting ready on Goose Creek south of us, many
soldiers getting ready on the Yellowstone north of us. They would come
together and surround us. So in the Moon of Black Cherries [August]
the scattering of the people began. They always scattered in the fall
after they had come together for the sun dance. But that time it was
different. I did not know then that the hoop was breaking and would
never come together again. When we broke camp, most of us started
north together. Some were talking of Grandmother’s Land [Canada]. They
said if we went there, the soldiers could not chase us any more, and
Grandmother England [Queen Victoria] was kind to our relatives who were
living in her country. But many said they did not want to die in a
strange land far from home.

“The prairie burned behind us, wide as the sky. This made it hard for
the soldiers’ horses to follow. We turned east towards Mini Shoshay
[the Missouri River]. Then the rain came. Day and night it rained until
the mud was deep and our horses could hardly pull the drags. There were
still many, many of us, many, many horses; but some people were always
leaving us--one _iglaka_, two, three _iglakas_, maybe a big party. Some
would hunt awhile, but when they had made winter meat, they would go to
the agencies.

“My grandfather and grandmother had some relatives in Grandmother’s
Land, and when Sitting Bull turned north again with about a hundred
lodges, we went along with him and crossed the Yellowstone. Crazy
Horse, with many of the people, went on towards where the sun comes
up. I never saw him again. The Miniconjous went on with him, and when
I saw Tashina again after many moons, everything was different. My
step-father, Looks Twice, said if we went visiting in Grandmother’s
Land, afterwhile the soldiers might go away and we could come back home.

“Horseback soldiers came after us yonder, and there was a fight. It was
not much. We got away in the night with Sitting Bull, and fled north.
Then we camped and hunted and dried much meat. Soldiers did not come
there. We had good tepees and plenty of _papa_.

“In the Moon of Dark Red Calves [February] we heard about Crazy Horse
and his people. They had gone back through the burned-off land to
Tongue River, and they were hungry there when the soldiers came, many
soldiers. It was a bad fight in the snow and cold, and Crazy Horse had
no powder; so he fled with his people in a snowstorm to Little Powder
River, and there they were starving.

“The story was a moon old when it came to our village. Maybe many
soldiers would attack us too. So we broke camp when a melting wind
blew, as it did yesterday, and went into Grandmother’s Land. There we
had relatives to visit and the soldiers could not chase us.

“I thought maybe we would go back home when the new grass came; but
when the valleys were green along the creeks, another story came to
us. Crazy Horse had led his starving people into the Soldiers’ Town on
White River [Fort Robinson] so that they could eat. Then we thought
it would be better to wait until it was time for the fall hunt. Maybe
Crazy Horse and his people would be hunting, and we could join them,
and be happy together again. But bad stories came to us that summer,
and just before the winter we heard that the Wasichus had murdered
Crazy Horse at the Soldiers’ Town.

“We did not go home.”

The old man ceased and sat with drooped head, his hands on his knees.
When I held the pipestem towards him, he did not see it, and I felt
alone in the tepee. “What then, Grandfather?” I said at length. He
raised his head and seemed to come back slowly from a distant place.
His gaze took on the crinkled, quizzical look, and what he said came
with a shock of surprise: “I got married.”

He took the pipe and smoked awhile. “_Dho_,” he continued, “we did not
go home. Our relatives were kind to us. There were bison in plenty.
There were no soldiers to chase us. There were valleys and streams
like ours at home; but when I rode along a valley, something was not
there; and when I looked at a hill, it was a stranger. There were no
great deeds to be done and no great honors to win. When I was a boy,
and the sun would come up, something wonderful might happen that day.
It was not so any more. Stories came from the agencies, and they were
about hunger and sickness and the forked tongues of the Wasichus. The
soldiers even took away the people’s horses. Pa Sapa was full of crazy
Wasichus digging up the yellow metal.

“Grasses came forth and died, and the snow fell. Again the grass was
new and died and there was snow. Maybe next grass everything would be
better, and we would go home. We did not go home. The stories that came
to us were not good. Afterwhile we got used to the strange land. Then I
got married.

“She was a Hunkpapa girl and her right name was Plenty White Cows.
People called her Woman Who Died, and they told about a strange power
she had. She made charms for her two brothers, so that what they tried
to do, they could do it; and with these charms they had won great
honors in war. Also she could see things that were going to happen.

“She was older than I was, but she was a girl yet. I think maybe young
men were a little afraid of her because of the stories people told, and
she was not very strong--maybe because she had died once and gone to
the world of spirits. I will tell you how it was, the way people told
it; for it had been made into a story for anybody to tell.

“When Plenty White Cows was just a little girl, maybe five or six
winters old, a strange sickness came upon her. The _wichasha wakon_
could do nothing, and so she died. At that time her father and mother
were camping with some other Hunkpapas at Slim Buttes, north of Pa
Sapa. And when their girl was dead, they prepared her for the other
world and put her on a scaffold, the way I have told you. Then the band
broke camp and moved on towards Mini Shoshay, and the father and mother
and brothers went wandering and mourning. This was when the Moon of
Black Cherries [August] was young, and it was a time of no storms.

“There was a man whose name was Against the Clouds. He and his woman
were Sans Arcs. They had been visiting with relatives in Grandmother’s
Land, and they were on their way back to Bear Butte near Pa Sapa, where
the Sans Arcs would be camping. They were traveling alone with two
horses to ride and one to pull the drag. It was not very far between
sleeps, for they were getting to be old people and they would be
tired when there was yet much day. Also, they were having a good time
together, because the weather was so pleasant. They were not in a hurry
to be at home, because their children were dead and they had no family.

“So Against the Clouds and his woman were riding along slowly where the
trail left the creek and began to climb towards a pass in the sharp
buttes. These buttes stand tall in a row that is bent like a great bow
with the arrow aimed at the sunset; and that is the way the two were
going. The man was ahead of the drag-horse and the woman came last.
When they were not far from the pass, the woman said, ‘Look! Look over
there! Somebody has died here since we came through with the young
grass.’ So Against the Clouds stopped his horse and looked. ‘It is
so,’ he said; for yonder high up on the side of the butte, not very
far away, was a new scaffold. And the woman said, ‘I wonder if it is
somebody we know.’ The man looked hard awhile, then he said, ‘Do you
see how the crows are doing? They fly around but do not come close.
Something is scaring them.’ And the woman said, ‘There is something
sitting on the scaffold. Maybe it is a buzzard.’ And when the man had
looked hard for a while longer, he said, ‘That does not look like any
buzzard I ever saw sitting. Let us go and see.’

“So they left the drag-horse grazing by the trail and rode over a
little way to see what was sitting yonder on the scaffold. All at once
the woman cried out and stopped her horse. It surely was not a buzzard
up there. ‘Let us get away from here!’ she said, and she could hardly
make the words, she was so frightened. But Against the Clouds just sat
still on his horse, looking and listening, with his woman behind him,
looking and listening. It was the bundle that was sitting up there with
its face turned the other way--a little bundle! And as they stared with
their mouths open, hardly breathing, there came a thin sound like a
sick child crying and whimpering. Then the man said, ‘Nobody is dead
here. I think they put somebody up there too soon. I will go and see.’
So he did, while the woman waited, for she was still frightened. And
when the man had looked, he called to his woman. ‘Come here quick and
do not be afraid! It is a sick child, and it may die if we do not hurry
to help it.’ Then the woman was not afraid any more, and she went in a
hurry to help.

“So that is how the little girl who died came back to this world again.
And when the two old people had unwrapped her, they made a camp by a
spring that ran cool among pines just beyond the pass. And there they
washed the little girl very carefully with warm water. Also they made
some broth and put it in her mouth a few drops at a time, for she was
still more in the spirit world than here.

“Against the Clouds and his woman did not sleep much all night. They
sat beside the sick little girl and gave her drops of broth once in
a while, for they were afraid she would die again and they wanted to
keep her for their own. They had no children for their old age, and the
woman was already too old to have any more. While the little girl was
sleeping, they talked together and made a plan. If the girl lived, they
would take her home with them and say they adopted her in Grandmother’s
Land. They were very good old people and always spoke straight words;
but they wanted a daughter so much that they made this story to tell
so that they could keep her. They prayed hard too; and when it was
morning, they could see that the girl would live. And the woman said,
‘Let us give our daughter a good name. I think it would be well to call
her Plenty White Cows. It is a sacred name, and surely Wakon Tonka
has sent her to us from the spirit land. Also, it is a pretty name. I
always liked it.’ And the man said, ‘Let it be so. We will call her
Plenty White Cows.’ So they did.

“Against the Clouds and his woman stayed in camp there until the girl
was well enough to talk, but she could not remember much. She would
just look and look at the two old people, and sometimes she would cry a
little. They asked what her father’s name was, and she could not tell.
She did not know her own name either, so they told her the new name,
and she would say it again and again.

“Afterwhile she could remember that she was sleeping and that a man
came singing. He touched her and told her to ’waken, for some people
were coming to take her back. So she awoke and tried to get up. It must
have been hard to crawl out of the bundle, but somehow she did part
way. And when she sat up, there was no man, but only a crow flying off.
Then she was frightened and began crying, and right away the people
that the singing crow-man told about were there. Then she did not
remember any more until she was tasting broth.

“The old people were so good to her that in a little while she loved
them very much and learned to call them father and mother. And when she
was well enough to walk a little, they broke camp and started for Bear
Butte with Plenty White Cows riding on the drag.

“When Against the Clouds and his woman came back home with their new
daughter, their friends would come to see and bring gifts. But the
little girl would hide behind her foster-mother and peek around at the
faces. For a long while she seemed to be looking for somebody she knew,
but when anyone spoke to her, she would hide behind her foster-mother
and cry. Maybe she was looking for her own father and mother like
people she had seen in a dream. Her foster-parents said she was very
bashful; but people talked about it and said she was queer.

“So Against the Clouds and his woman had Plenty White Cows all for
themselves, and they were so fond of her that people said they were
foolish about her. Also, she loved them very much and was always
helping her foster-mother. It was not long before the foster-parents
noticed that she knew things she could not know unless a spirit told
her. Sometimes she would talk to people they could not see and learn
something that was true but that she could not know by herself. That is
the way she found her foster-father’s horse when it was lost and no one
could find it.

“I think it was two snows after this, and the Sans Arcs were traveling.
It was in the Moon of Black Cherries again. The people with their
pony-drags were crossing a deep creek and Hunkpapas were camped on
the other side. Some Hunkpapa men were at the crossing to help if any
should have trouble with the drags in the mud. One of these Hunkpapas
was the brother of the girl’s father, and when Against the Clouds and
his woman and Plenty White Cows came riding with their drag, this man
looked very hard at the girl; and when they had crossed, he wondered
and wondered. Then he went and told his brother, who was camping there,
that he had seen a girl who looked just like the one who died, only
maybe a little older. So when the Sans Arcs had camped not far from the
Hunkpapas, the real father and his brother went over to see.

“When they had walked part way around the village circle, they saw
Plenty White Cows helping her foster-mother at the fire in front of
the tepee. And when the real father saw her, he just stood with his
mouth open, looking, until the girl cried out and ran to hide behind
her foster-mother. Just then Against the Clouds came from staking
out his horses, and the real father said to him, ‘_Kola_, you have a
little daughter here who looks just like the little daughter I had, but
she died two snows ago just about this time. It was at Slim Buttes.
My woman still cries hard whenever we talk about our daughter.’ But
Against the Clouds and his woman looked down their noses and said
nothing. Then the real father and his brother went away.

“In a little while, the real father came back with the girl’s real
mother. And when the mother saw the girl, she screamed and hid her face
with her hands. Then she looked again, with tears running through her
fingers, and she wailed, ‘What do I see, O what do I see? My little
girl is dead! My little girl is dead! What do I see?’ This time the
girl did not run and hide. She looked with big scared eyes at the woman
who was crying so hard, and then she ran to the woman and the woman
seized her and held her, crying very hard.

“By now Against the Clouds and his woman were just standing there with
tears running down their faces, and the real father was crying too. And
Against the Clouds said at last, ‘Friends, it is true. This is your
little girl. We saved her from the scaffold and made a story so that we
might keep her.’ And the foster-mother said, ‘Yes, it is true, but we
love her so much, and we are getting old and she is all we have.’

“Then the real father said to Against the Clouds, ‘_Kola_, we are men,
and we can smoke a pipe and talk this over.’ So that is what they did,
and this is how they agreed. The girl was born and had died. Then she
was born again. So she had two mothers and two fathers, and the first
parents would own her as much as the second parents, the second as
much as the first. The girl would keep her second name because the
first name died with her. She was born first in the Moon of Dark Red
Calves [February], so in that moon she would go to live with her first
parents. Then in the Moon of Black Cherries [August] she would go to
live with her second parents, because it was then that she came back
from the spirit land.

“And when this was agreed, the first father and mother and the second
father and mother and their little girl were happy.”




XXVI

_The Moon of Black Cherries_


“_Dho_,” said Eagle Voice, approving the conclusion of his silent
meditation. “I got used to the strange land. By the stories that came
to us, home was not yonder any more. The sacred hoop of the people was
broken, and old men said it could never be mended. If Sitting Bull went
back, maybe the soldiers would kill him. They had killed Crazy Horse
already. My brother-friend was gone. The people yonder were hungry
around the agencies. Where we were, there were bison in plenty, and no
soldiers to chase us. I was young and I liked to live. So I got used to
the strange land; and I got married too.

“We were on a fall hunt with some people from different bands of the
Lakota, and a few Cheyennes and Arapahoes, maybe ten or twelve lodges
altogether, and we were camping by a creek. Three of my horses strayed
away and I was out looking for them. They had strayed far, dragging
their lariats, and the sun was getting ready to go down when I got back
to the creek. I was on my horse, holding the others while the four were
drinking.

“There was going to be frost that night. The air smelled good and it
was still. The smokes stood straight from the tepees yonder in the
flat. Leaves were changing color and some plums were red in a clump of
brush. A little sound was big. I was just sitting there leaning on my
horse and holding the others. There was a whiff of meat cooking. Maybe
I was thinking about something a long way off, but I do not remember
what.

“All at once the brush cracked. The horses snorted. The two young ones
reared and broke away, running and kicking and making sharp wind when
they kicked. It was just like the other time I told you about; that
time after my first sun dance when the people were getting ready to
scatter and my horses broke away at the creek.

“She was standing there at the edge of the plum brush, and my heart
jumped in me; for all at once it was that other time back home. Then I
saw that it was Plenty White Cows standing there. She had red plums in
a fold of her blanket, and she was looking at me and smiling. She was
pretty.

“Our party was small, so I had seen her often since her family came to
camp with us. Against the Clouds and his woman were dead, and she was
living with her real parents. I had noticed her more than other girls
because I knew the story about her and the strange power she had. That
was not the only time she had smiled at me that way. The first time was
when I was riding by her tepee and she was cooking out in front of it.
She was bent over, stirring the pot, and she looked up at me surprised.
Then she looked happy and smiled, and she was pretty, and she did not
seem strange any more.

“Yes, it was like the time back home that I told you about. Maybe that
is why I said it, or maybe I was bashful all at once. My mother and
grandmother wanted me to get married, and they said I was too bashful
because I did not notice girls much. Maybe I was bashful then. I said,
‘Hold this horse for me while I catch the others.’ So she took the
lariat and I rode away on the run after my horses. While I was chasing
them, I was wondering if the horse would be tied to the brush when I
got back. The young horses felt good, and I had a long chase before I
caught them in a bend of the creek against a high bank. It was dark
before I got back with them, and I thought surely the other horse would
be tied to the brush, just the way it was that other time.

“It was not so. She was standing in the same place, holding the horse.
There was starlight.”

The old man fell silent and began fumbling in his long tobacco
pouch. When he had filled the pipe and tamped it with a leisurely
thoroughness, he said, “That is how it was, Grandson; that is how it
was.” Then he lit the pipe, his lean cheeks hollowing.

When we had sat in silence for a while he began talking in a low voice,
with little expression at first, as though remembering aloud with no
thought of sharing.

“She was a good woman, and she made the strange land almost like home.
She was always working and never angry. She would make low songs for
herself when she was working. I think she could tan deerskin as soft as
my grandmother could; and she made clothing of it, beautiful with beads
and dyed porcupine quills. I always got plenty of tender meat for us,
plenty for my grandfather and grandmother too. They would come to eat
with us and bring other very old people with them. I could always get
plenty, because she could tell me where to hunt. Sometimes she would be
working and singing to herself; then she would stop singing and tell
me where she saw some fat young deer drinking when the sun was going
down. Maybe that would be in the morning, but she would see it. So I
would be there waiting for the sun to set, and the fat young deer would
come.

“She always looked after my moccasins, and when I had been hunting on
foot and was tired, she would grease the bottoms of my feet by the
fire. She was patient and wise, and sometimes she was more like my
mother than my woman; maybe because she was older.

“She could see what others could not see, and what was going to happen,
she could tell it. When someone was going to die, she would tell me,
and it would be so. If somebody lost some horses, she could sit still
with her eyes shut and dream, and in the dream she would go to where
the horses were then; and when she opened her eyes, she would tell how
she went there, and it would be so.

“She was a good woman, but not strong like other women, maybe because
she had died once and come back for a while. No children came to
us, and my mother said the women talked about this. I think they
did not like her. Maybe they were afraid because of her _yuwipi_
[spiritualistic] power. But sometimes when they wanted to know
something hidden, they would come to her with little gifts.

“There were grasses and snows and the land was not strange any more.
When Sitting Bull went back and surrendered to the Wasichus, we did not
go back, for the stories that came to us from our people on White Clay
Creek where their reservation [Pine Ridge] was were not happy stories,
and we were used to the new land.

“There were more grasses and snows and more grasses. Then one day when
the cherries were turning black Plenty White Cows did not get up in the
morning. Her mother and mine came over to help and they made some soup
for her, but she did not want to eat it. She did not talk to us, but
sometimes she would talk to people we could not see. Afterwhile when
she was sleeping hard and there was nothing to do, our mothers went
home.

“When the sun was beginning to go down, she called to me, and I leaned
close to hear. Her voice was far away. I thought she was dreaming and
talking in her sleep. There were tears on her face, and she said, ‘A
little girl is crying. Do you not hear her crying far away?’ And I
said, ‘No little girl is crying. You are dreaming.’ Then she looked at
me with a soft look from far away, and said, ‘It is the little girl you
think about when you are alone. I hear her crying far across snows and
grasses.’

“She closed her eyes and when she looked at me again, it was a far
look that did not see me, and she was talking about a great water
reaching to the sunrise, and a long road across it and strange peoples
yonder in a strange land. ‘It is a long road,’ she said, ‘but you will
come back home. The little girl will grease your feet beside the fire,
and she will not cry any more.’

“I thought she had gone to sleep and I sat there awhile listening to
her breathing, and wondering. I went outside and while I stood there,
the sun went under. Then I heard her call me again, and I went in and
leaned close to hear what she would say. ‘Cherries are getting black,’
she said. ‘They are getting black.’ And I said, ‘It is so; they are
blackening.’ At first I did not know what she meant. Then she looked at
me from far away, and her voice was far away too, and she said, ‘The
young moon is low yonder. It is time to go. They are coming to take me
home again.’

“Then there was a sudden wide look in her eyes, and I knew it was not
for me. All at once I knew it was for her foster-parents, Against
the Clouds and his woman. They had come for her in the Moon of Black
Cherries, the way they used to do before they died; but I could not see
them. I knew this all at once, and there was a big ache in my breast;
but I said, ‘Plums are beginning to ripen too. Soon they will be good
to eat We will go and pick some,’ I was seeing red plums in a fold of
her blanket. She closed her eyes and lay still, but I could hear her
breathing deep.

“I was sitting there in the dark wondering and thinking many things
with the ache in my breast. Her mother came back, but I did not tell
her anything because I must not talk to her. I could see the old woman
was leaning down over her daughter, and I think she was listening. Then
she cried out and began mourning.

“My mother came and others too. They made a fire in front of our lodge,
and there was mourning all night.”

Eagle Voice was silent for a while, looking at the ground. At length he
turned a squinting gaze on me and said, “There is a strange road ahead,
Grandson, a road that leads far. Let us walk on it tomorrow. I want to
sleep now.”




XXVII

_The Dark Hills of Water_


The wind had sharpened, shifting eastward in the night, and now it
filled the dull gray morning with the prickling smell of snow. When I
arrived, Eagle Voice was up and eager to continue, beginning where he
had ceased the day before, as though there had been no interruption.

“_Dho_,” he said when I had placed a cottonwood chunk in the stove, “it
is a road that leads across the world.

“After Against the Clouds and his woman came and took her home to the
world of spirit the land was strange again. Sometimes I rode all day,
but there was nothing. Everywhere the valleys were empty, and if I
stopped to listen, they would be listening too. The hills looked, and
did not know me. Sometimes I thought I would go back home; but there
was no home yonder. Sometimes I thought I would ride down to see the
Rosebud and the Greasy Grass again, and maybe I would go over to the
Little Piney country where my father’s scaffold stood. Then I would
think maybe there would be many Wasichus yonder, too many to kill. Or
if there were no Wasichus, the valleys would be empty and I would be
a stranger and the hills would stare. The bones of my father would be
scattered and the blowing of the wind would be like mourning. So I did
not go.

“The snow came and fell deep.

“Dreams came to me when I slept, and when I sat alone beside my fire
and the wind whipped the smoke-flap, dreams came to me awake. Sometimes
I would be sitting there looking at the fire, and she would be sitting
yonder across the fire, maybe sewing quills and beads on a moccasin.
Then I would look, and there would be nothing I could see; but when I
looked away she would be there again sewing by the fire.

“I hunted much and got fresh meat for my grandparents and other old
people. Often people invited me to come and eat with them, and there
would be stories, so that I would be back in the good days awhile.
But I liked to be alone too. I wondered much about the great water
reaching to the sunrise and the strange people in a far land and the
little girl crying far away. Maybe the little girl was Tashina when I
was a little boy. But I was a man, and how could she grease my feet?

“One night when the winter was old, Plenty White Cows came while I
slept, and I saw her clear. She was standing by the plum brush, and she
was smiling at me. Plums were red in the thicket and there were some in
a fold of her blanket. She smiled at me and said, ‘_Shonka ’kan_, you
made me proud.’ Then I saw that it was not Plenty White Cows standing
there. It was Tashina. And just as I knew her, horses snorted and broke
sharp wind. Then there was only starlight and a voice that said, ‘Hold
fast, there is more.’ And I was awake in the dark and the wind was
whipping the smoke-flap.”

The old man paused, fumbling in his long tobacco pouch. After a
leisurely tamping of the pipe, he lit it, passed it to me and sat
gazing at the ground. When it seemed that he had lost me in his
meditation, I prompted him, ‘And the long road, Grandfather?’

“Ah,” he said, his gaze slowly focusing upon me; “the long road. I
started south before the young grasses appeared, going to see my
people, the Oglalas, again. Maybe there would be soldiers, so I rode
nights, slept days. No soldiers. I saw the new iron road [Northern
Pacific] that the Wasichus had made, and for a while I was afraid to
cross it. My horse was afraid too; but we crossed it on the run. I was
hiding when the great iron horse went by snorting smoke and pulling
many big wagons. I rode down across the flat-lands, past the White
Buttes and Bear Butte and Pa Sapa.

“When I came to Smoky Earth [White] River, my mind was forked. Maybe I
would go over to the Miniconjous on the South Fork; maybe I would go
to the Oglalas on White Earth Creek. I went to the Miniconjous, and I
was a stranger. People were talking about the Wanekia [the Messiah] who
was coming soon, they said. He was coming from where the sun goes down,
and all the Wasichus would disappear like smoke when he came; and there
would be a new heaven and a new earth for Lakotas. I did not believe
it. I thought they were all _witko_.”

“And Tashina Wanblee, Grandfather,” I urged when he had been silent
overlong. “Surely you went there to see her.”

“She was not there,” he said in a matter-of-fact manner, fixing his
crinkled look upon me. “Too many snows and grasses. She had a Hunkpapa
man. Living up on Grand River with Sitting Bull’s people; five snows
ago, they told me.

“I came to the Oglalas here on White Earth Creek, and I was a
stranger, at first, for I was not a young man any more, and they did
not know me. It was not good. Red Cloud living in a square Wasichu
tepee made of wood. _Akichita_ wearing the blue coats of the Wasichu.
All the people waiting for Wasichu food, like hungry dogs, and talking
about the Wanekia. Some said he was coming right away, like a whirlwind
across the prairie. No more Wasichus. The good days coming back
and all the buffalo. I did not believe it. I thought they were all
_witko_. There was a big ache in my breast and I wanted to go back to
Grandmother’s Land; but when I thought I would go, the ache got bigger.
Then Pahuska came. You know Pahuska?”

“Everybody knew him, Grandfather,” I said. “We called him Buffalo Bill.
He was a great Wasichu chief, great hunter, great warrior. And you went
with his big show to Paris.”

“Ah,” the old man agreed. “It is so. Pars, Pars; it is what they called
that country. It is so. He wanted Lakota warriors to ride and play war
and dance, so that the strange people across the great water could
see. He would give us _maza ska_ [white metal, money] to do this. When
I heard about the great water and the strange peoples yonder at the
sunrise, I knew I must go, for it was what she told me before she went
home.

“The Wasichus had made another iron road along the Minitonka
[Niobrara]. It was the way Wooden Cup said before my grandfather was
born. A strange people would come from the sunrise, too many to be
counted. They would kill all the bison and take the land and bind it
with iron bands. I was going to see where all the Wasichus came from.
We started for the sunrise on this iron road, and went faster than
our horses could run. I was afraid, but I held on tight and looked at
the land I knew since I was a boy. It was running away, and the hills
looked scared. After a while it was dark, and I slept. Then I awoke
and there was a big moon outside. The land was still running away.
The wagon under me was jumping fast and crying, ‘_yea-hay, yea-hay,
yea-hay_,’ like warriors fleeing from too many enemies; and I could
hear the iron horse running and snorting and puffing all out of breath.
Sometimes he screamed like a war-pony shot in the guts. I held on
tight, and the morning came.

“Then I saw the Mini Shoshay [Missouri River], and there was a big
Wasichu village [Omaha], bigger than all the Lakotas camped in one
hoop. Then there were more iron roads in a land I never saw before, and
Wasichu villages--many, many. And the iron horse went on running as
fast as before, snorting and puffing all out of breath and screaming.

“I wanted to go back, but I could not. Afterwhile I got used to it,
but my heart was not strong in me. When I was a boy we used to say
that some time we would kill all the Wasichus; but now I knew there
were more of them than grasshoppers. When Red Cloud went to see the
Great Father, and we heard the big stories he told about the Wasichus
and their villages yonder where the sun rises, we did not believe. We
said he turned into a Wasichu when he put on their clothing, and his
tongue was forked like theirs. But I could see his words were straight.
And when we came to the biggest village of all where the great water
begins [New York], I knew his stories were not big enough. Wasichus!
Wasichus! They came crowding like a bison herd to look and look at us
when we got on the big _peyta watah_ [fire-boat] that was there.

“I cannot tell how big this _watah_ was. They put all the horses and
tepees and wagons in its belly; and the fire that made it go was in
there too. When it started for the sunrise with us, it bellowed like
bison bulls sending forth voices together when they paw the young grass
and tear it with their horns. I saw the land begin to move. It did not
run away fast. It floated away, and afterwhile it was all gone, and
there was the great water to the sky. It was sleeping and breathing,
up and down, up and down. I got sick, and I was afraid. Maybe I would
die. I remembered what old men said, ‘It is not good to grow old.’ But
I wore the quirt down my back, and you see I am alive yet.

“Twelve sleeps--water, water, water! Twelve sleeps! When the winds
were asleep and the sun was showing, it was a flat blue prairie with
no grass. Maybe it was like the prairie where the star nations live,
and the sister in the story I told you fell through it! But no turnips
on this prairie! The _peyta watah_ shook itself and breathed hard, and
smoke came out of its belly; but it did not move. The sun moved and the
stars, and the sunrise was no nearer.

“The Thunder Beings came with lightning and a great wind that howled,
and the flat blue prairie changed into dark hills that grew tall and
fell, grew tall and fell. I was more afraid than I ever was before.
All of us were afraid and the horses too. Sometimes I could hear them
scream in the _watah’s_ belly. I was not afraid to die in a battle with
enemies I could kill. But there was no enemy to fight. Maybe the quirt
could not help me. If I died there in the great water, maybe I could
not find the way to the spirit land, and I would be lost always in the
dark hills. That is what made me afraid. If I died in the hills of
water, maybe I could never find my relatives again. But I had my pipe
with me, and I remembered what my father said with the voice of the
eagle in my vision, ‘Hold fast to your pipe, for there is more.’ So I
held fast to my pipe. Also, Pahuska was like a father to us. He laughed
and told us to be brave. He had a strong heart.

“We came to where the hills were smaller and the winds were asleep.
Then we saw the sun again and the blue prairie; and the strange land
came floating to us out of the sunrise.”




XXVIII

_In the Village Called Pars_


“There was another iron road,” the old man continued after a period of
silence, “and we came to the village they called Pars. This village was
so big that we could never see how big it was, and the tepees were made
of stone. The Wasichus there could not be counted. They piled tepees on
top of tepees and climbed up there so that they could have places to
live. These places were full of people, all looking out like prairie
dogs from their holes. There were big roads and little roads going
everywhere in this village, and the people and the horses and wagons
were always going everywhere with much noise and many cries. I do not
know what they were doing.

“Pahuska wanted the people to see us, so he led us all on a big road
made of stone where there were tall trees and green grass; and there
the people came crowding like a bison herd to look at us. Pahuska went
first, and he was riding a big white horse. He did not look like other
Wasichus. His hair was long like a Lakota’s, but it was not braided and
it was yellow. Also his clothing was made of buckskin. We followed him
on our ponies, riding two together, and we were painted and dressed
as for victory and our ponies were painted too. And after us were
_iglakas_ with their pony-drags. And after them there were Wasichu
horsebacks with lariats on their saddles, riding two together. Then
there were Wasichu wagons with tepee tops on them, and other wagons
with four horses pulling them and people riding on top and inside. And
there were horseback soldiers, and they were riding two and two.

“I think the people liked the Lakotas best of all. When we knew they
were not enemies and were glad to see us, we were glad too, and we
began singing a riding song all together. It was the way young warriors
would do when they were going somewhere and there were no enemies
around. When we stopped singing, the herd of people roared and crowded
in to us, shouting and reaching up to touch us. A young woman took hold
of my arm, but some horsebacks came and pushed the people back. These
horsebacks looked like soldiers, but I think they were _akichitas_.

“When we started riding through this green place with the tall trees, I
could see where water was coming up out of the ground, many streams of
water rising and falling. I do not know what it was. I have heard there
is shooting water like that over in Shoshoni country, but I never saw
it.

“Afterwhile we came to a great high stone with a big hole in it, and
we all rode through this hole. From that place I could see roads that
led to the four quarters of the world. The stone was standing where the
Sacred Tree should grow and bloom, the way Blue Spotted Horse told me
when I was a boy. I wondered much about this. Maybe these Wasichus had
the sacred hoop too; and maybe the Wasichus back home across the great
water had forgotten about the hoop and so were not good any more. Maybe
that was why Grandmother England’s soldiers did not chase us when we
fled to Grandmother’s Land. Maybe they had the hoop too. That is what I
thought then, but now I do not believe it.

“There was a place where all these people came in a herd to see us
twice nearly every day. It was a little round flat valley with a steep
hill all around it, and on this hill the people sat to see, and roared
when they saw.

“Pahuska would ride into the middle of the round flat valley and make
his tall white horse stand on its hind legs. Then he would take his big
hat off and wave it at the people on the hill all around him; and the
hill would roar. Sometimes he would throw shining balls into the air,
and he would shoot at them, and always they would break. The people
liked him, but I think they liked us more. We did many things the way
we used to do at home. Sometimes we would dance and sing. Sometimes we
would attack Wasichu wagons, going up Shell River [Platte], maybe, or
maybe up the road to Pa Sapa. Or we would chase the other kind of wagon
with people sitting on top and inside and four running horses pulling
it [stage coach]. There would be shouting and war-cries and a great
dust of hoofs, and many guns going off; but there were no bullets in
the guns. Some of us would get killed and roll in the dust, and our
brothers would ride by and lean to pick us up and take us out of the
fight. We did many things, and always a roaring wind blew across the
hill of people when they saw. It was fun; and sometimes when we were
alone together and the dead ones were alive again, we would laugh about
it.

“We stayed there while moons came and went, and always the hill of
people was there to see us and roar.

“_Washtay!_ It was good! Pahuska had a strong heart and he was like a
father. He gave us plenty of fat _papa_, all we could eat; and there
was plenty of _paezhuta sapa_ [black medicine, coffee] with plenty of
_chun humpi_ [tree juice, sugar] to put in it.”

The old man ceased and fell to brooding. “_Dho!_” he said at long last,
slowly fixing his crinkled look upon me. “It was the same young Wasichu
woman. When Pahuska led us through the place of grass and trees to show
us to the people, it was the same young woman who came crowding with
the other Wasichus and took hold of my arm. She looked up at me then
and I saw her face, but the horseback _akichitas_ came and pushed the
people back. I wondered about this, and sometimes I would think about
her face and the way she looked up at me. Then I wanted to see her
again. I am wearing the white war bonnet now, and it is thin. My teeth
are uprooted and I am bent so that I am not even as tall as you, my
grandson. But then I was straight and tall and strong, and maybe I was
good-looking. Also I was a good dancer.

“It was the time when leaves would be falling in my country; and when
I thought about this I would feel sad, because it was far across the
dark hills of water. It was in the night when she came back. Some of us
Lakotas were standing outside, for it was not our time to play war in
there. Sometimes we heard the hill of people roar. There was a light
that flickered in a cage where we were, and Wasichus came close to look
at us. They would look and look, and we were making jokes about them,
but they did not know it because we made our faces stone. Sometimes
we would growl and the people near us would push back, and we would
look angry, but we were laughing inside. They were funny, the way they
looked and looked and peeked around each other to see us.

“She came out of the shadow. One of her hands was on my naked arm and
one upon my naked breast--thin white hands--and she was looking up at
me.”

The old man ceased again and gazed awhile upon the ground with
half-closed eyes. “Leaves were falling at home,” he said in a low
voice, still looking at the ground. Then, raising his eyes and fixing
upon me a squinting gaze that had a question in it, he continued. “She
had much hair. Sometimes I think about it yet, and I see a bright cloud
when the sky is white in the morning and the sun is just beginning to
come. Her look was soft and kind. There was a power that went through
me from her hands. Sometimes when I think about this, I remember when I
was a boy and Blue Spotted Horse gave me the sacred pipe to touch, and
the power went through me.”

Again the old man paused, and the focus of his gaze fell beyond me.
“If it was good or bad,” he continued, “I do not know. It is far away
and I am old; but sometimes when I think about it, I am a boy in the
night and the moon makes him want to sing, but something is afraid in
the shadows. She pulled me with her look and with her white hands. I
went into the dark with her. There was laughing and there were voices
back there, but they were far away, far as across the hills of water.

“Out in the dark was a little wagon with two wheels, and one horse
pulled it. These were always going up and down the many roads in that
village, and a man sat high on top to make the horse go. We got in
there and the whip popped and we went fast. Her mouth was on my face;
her hair was on my eyes; her hands were about my neck. I did not know
what she was saying again and again, but it was like singing; and I
could smell young grass when rain has fallen and the sun comes out.

“There was a place where two dark roads crossed, but some little fires
burned in cages on poles and made shadows. That is where we got out
of the wagon, and the man on top laughed and popped his whip and went
away. We climbed twice to where she lived and we were alone in that
high place.”

The old man ceased and began fumbling in his long tobacco sack. When he
had prepared the pipe with more than necessary attention to detail, he
lit it and blew a cloud.

“Three suns, three sleeps my heart sang there,” he continued, handing
me the pipe. “My heart sang and I thought she would go back with me and
be my woman always. We would go to Grandmother’s Land where I could
kill plenty of good meat for her, and she would learn to tan buckskin
very soft, and make clothing and moccasins beautiful with beads and
porcupine quills. Also, there would be children and grandchildren. This
is what I thought when my heart was singing, but I could not tell her,
for my tongue was strange to her and hers was strange to me.

“It was in the fourth sleep that she came back to me, all the way
across the dark hills of water.”

“Who came?” I asked.

“Plenty White Cows came back while I slept,” he said, “the same way
she came before I left Grandmother’s Land. Plums were red in the brush
behind her and plums were red in a fold of her blanket. She was looking
at me and her eyes were sad. Then a wind came moaning through the brush
and she drew her blanket over her face, and there was a shadow that hid
her. But when the shadow passed, the blanket was open about her face,
and it was Tashina, and she was crying. I could see tears on her face
and hear her crying like a little girl far away, but she did not look
at me.

“Then all at once it was dark and I was awake in that strange place. I
was afraid of something and my heart was sick. I do not know what I was
afraid of. I could hear the woman sleeping, and the dark was still. I
listened and listened, and there was nothing. In battle my heart sang,
and I was not afraid. But in that still dark place I feared more and
more and I could not stay.

“So I got up without making a noise, and walked softly. I felt for
the little handle that turned. It clicked loud when I turned it, but
nothing heard. I went out where a thin little fire was burning on a
stick, and I went down and down, walking softly. There was another
little handle that turned to let me out. When I was in the road
outside, where the lights flickered in their cages, I ran. Some people
came out of the shadows and yelled at me, but I did not stop.

“Then four _akichitas_ came running out of the shadows and took hold of
my arms. These men were not big and they were not angry. They patted me
on the back and made soft sounds and kept saying, ‘Bufflo Beel, Bufflo
Beel.’ And I said ‘Ah, _kola_, it is so,’ for I knew they meant Pahuska.

“I was glad to go with these Wasichu friends, for I was lost in that
village of many roads. They took me to a place and two of them stayed
with me. They made soft sounds and wagged their heads up and down and
said, ‘Bufflo Beel, Bufflo Beel,’ and I knew they were friends. We
stayed in that place until it was morning, and then they took me to
Pahuska.

“He was not angry. He slapped me on the back and laughed like a big
wind. I do not know why he did this, for my heart was sick. My heart
was sick for home.

“I did not want to play war any more. I did not want to eat. The dream
would not go away. I thought and thought about it and about my country
many sleeps across the dark hills of water. I wanted to die, but there
was no enemy to kill me; and I thought if I got weaker and weaker and
died, maybe I could not find the way back to my relatives. I wondered
how she found the way to me. Maybe it was her _yuwipi_ power that
helped her, and maybe I would be lost always out there.

“Then Pahuska said he would send me home, for he was like a father. Two
others were going back, and one of these knew the Wasichu tongue, so we
went together.

“Then, after many sleeps, I was here again.”




XXIX

_The Girl’s Road_


When I returned from the woodpile, the old man sat with closed eyes,
listening to the random plaintive sounds he was making with his
eagle-bone whistle. I fed the stove against the snow-chill that had
begun to creep into the tepee. The wind had ceased and the listening
world outside was filled with whispering flakes that clad the hills in
gauze.

“You walked across the world,” I said, “and then you found the road at
last?”

Emerging slowly from his meditation and ignoring my question, he began.

“Looks Twice and my mother had come from Grandmother’s Land. My
grandfather and grandmother wanted to come home to their people,
for they were very old and they did not want to die up there. So my
step-father brought them back. They were all living in a little gray
house of logs yonder on White Horse Creek, and I went to live with
them. Winter was coming, and people were talking about the Wanekia
[Messiah]. Some believed, and some said it was all foolishness. Looks
Twice and my mother did not believe yet and I did not believe either;
but my grandfather and grandmother said maybe it was true.

“I heard that Kicking Bear had gone with Good Thunder and some others
to see the Wanekia far away where the sun sets and a people they called
the Paiutes lived. They would come back with the young grass, and then,
some said, we would know that it was all true. But others said it was a
long way yonder, and stories that traveled far always got bigger. I did
not care much about the Wanekia; but I wanted to see Kicking Bear again
and talk about the things we used to do together before the hoop was
broken. We could remember the time we got all those Crow horses, and we
could talk about High Horse and Charging Cat; and maybe we would laugh
about the way the fat old woman bounced on her pony-drag.

“It was a hard winter with much snow, and there was not much to eat.
There was nothing to hunt, and the Great White Father did not send
all the cattle he promised. Sometimes I could kill a jack rabbit. The
people grew angry and many were sick. I thought about the dream that
came to me across the great water. Maybe this was why Plenty White Cows
did not look at me in the dream and Tashina was crying. I remembered
what Plenty White Cows told me before she went to her parents in the
spirit world. I would go across a great water, and when I came back I
would find the little girl she heard crying far away. I was back from
across the great water, and there was only hunger and sickness.

“Afterwhile the snow melted and the young grasses appeared. Then
Kicking Bear and the others came back. There was a big meeting at No
Water’s camp on White Clay Creek, and we went there to hear. Before
the talking began I saw Kicking Bear, and it made my heart sing to
see him again. He was older, but I knew him. So I went to him, and I
think he did not know me. He looked hard at me and his eyes looked
angry. I said, ‘Cousin, I am Eagle Voice. Do you remember High Horse
and Charging Cat and all those Crow horses we got that time? And do you
remember the fat old woman, how she bounced when her pony ran away?’ I
made a laugh, for I thought he would remember and laugh too. He just
looked hard at me like a stranger. His eyes were cold, his face was
sharp. Then he cried out, ‘_Believe! Believe! For those who do not
believe shall be lost!_’ And he went away.

“My heart was sick, for nothing was the same any more. I heard all they
said at the meeting, and many, many were there to hear. The Wanekia
would come like a whirlwind. Then all the Wasichus would disappear
like a smoke. The earth would be made new and green forever and all
the spirits would come from the other world and be alive here again.
And with these the bison would return and the people would be happy
together under a blue, blue sky; and there would be no crying any more,
no hunger or sickness, no growing old or dying. A long while ago this
same Wanekia came to the Wasichus, and they killed him. This time he
would come to us, and we would know him. This is what we heard.

“The man they saw yonder where the sun sets was a Paiute and his name
was Wovoka. He had died and gone to the other world a little while.
There he had seen the Wanekia and talked to him; and when this Wovoka
came back to our world here, he had to tell all the people everywhere,
so that they would be ready. The Wanekia had given a sacred dance and
sacred songs for the people to learn, and these would bring the new
heaven and the new earth. This would happen after one more winter when
the young grasses came again.

“I think most of those who heard, believed. Red Cloud was there, and
he believed too. My step-father and my mother and my grandparents
believed, but I was not sure. Maybe I was thinking how Kicking Bear
looked at me. Also, I had gone across the world and back. It was so big
and there were so many, many Wasichus. I wondered how one Wanekia could
rub them all out and make the world new.

“After the big meeting, the people began dancing the sacred dance and
singing the sacred songs. They held hands and made a hoop as they
danced and sang, and at the center of the hoop there stood the _chun
wakon_ [sacred tree]. It was like the sacred hoop that Blue Spotted
Horse told me about when I was a boy going on vision quest, and the
tree at the center should fill with leaves and blooms and singing
birds. But the tree was dead and the few leaves on top were dry.

“People danced and danced, singing to the Father who would come. And
afterwhile some of them would fall down and lie dead a long while. And
when these came alive again, they would tell of the spirit world where
they had been and of the dear ones they saw yonder. My grandmother saw
my father and he was young and happy and they talked together. And when
she told us, her face was all bright and she was so glad that she cried
and cried.

“Many saw people I used to know, and what they told seemed true.
Afterwhile I began to think maybe this was the way the sacred hoop
would be mended; and my grandmother told me I ought to help the people.
So I danced, and sang the sacred songs to the Father who should come.
But while I danced I would think about the sun dance in the good days
before the hoop was broken, and how the people feasted together then
and were happy and there was no crying. Now there was little to eat
and much crying, and only the spirit world was happy. I did not see
anything, and my heart was sick.

“The Agent told the people to stop dancing, but they would not; and in
the Moon of Falling Leaves [November] we heard that the soldiers were
coming to stop us. So the people fled north to the Top of the Badlands
[Cuny Table], and I went with them. It would be hard for the soldiers
to come to us there, and we did not want to fight them. The people said
we could dance there until the Wanekia came, and then there would be no
soldiers any more. The young men found some Wasichu cattle and these
they took so that the people could eat.

“Kicking Bear was there and he was the big man in the teaching of the
people; but he was a stranger. Sometimes I thought only his body was
in this world, and sometimes I wondered if he was _witko_. Afterwhile
he left us and went to Sitting Bull’s camp on Grand River to start the
dancing there.

“I danced hard because I was sorry for my people, and maybe I could
help; I did not know. Once while I was dancing I was thinking about the
sun dance the way it used to be in the good days. And all at once I was
there again, and I could feel the power go through me; but it did not
stay. And when I could not dance any more and lay down to sleep, there
was no vision.

“In the Moon of Popping Trees [December] we heard that Sitting Bull was
dead. The metal breasts [Indian police] killed him in his camp on Grand
River, and they were his own people. It was cold, and we were beginning
to starve, so we came back here and camped around the Agency [Pine
Ridge], and they gave us some cattle to butcher. Soldiers were camped
there too, but they did not bother us because we did not dance. Some of
the people did not believe any more, and many were not sure that the
Wanekia would come with the young grass; but many still believed.”

The old man ceased, and it was some time before he shared with me the
pictured past that flowed behind his closed eyelids.

“_Dho_, Grandson,” he said, regarding me with a gentle look, “I found
the road.

“The Moon of Popping Trees was old and dying when we heard about
Sitanka [Big Foot] and his band. They were fleeing towards us from
Grand River where Sitting Bull was killed. They were starving and
many of them were sick, and it was cold. There were about two hundred
of them and some were Hunkpapas. We heard that they had crossed
White River and were coming up the Porcupine. Then we heard that the
horseback soldiers surrounded them over yonder by Porcupine Butte and
took them down to Wounded Knee Creek. That is where they camped that
night with the soldiers all around them.

“Next morning the wind was still and it was warmer. There were
thousands of us camped around the Agency, and all at once we heard
shooting over there across the hills. Much shooting--wagon-guns
shooting very fast! _Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!_ Very fast! And many
other guns too, like tearing a blanket! They did not stop. They kept
on shooting fast. Somebody shouted, ‘_Aah-hey! Aah-hey!_ They are
butchering over there!’

“The people were cooking and eating when they heard the guns and they
went crazy. Everybody was crying, ‘They are butchering them! _Aah-hey!_
The soldiers are butchering them yonder!’ Young men were running for
their horses. Many started riding fast towards the shooting over across
the hills, and I rode with them. The soldiers did not try to stop us,
for our men back there were getting ready to attack. There was a
fight, but I did not see it. We rode fast, and when I looked back from
the top of the hill, I could see others riding fast after us, and the
people running.

“The shooting ahead yonder was louder when I was over the first hills.
I was riding my step-father’s horse that he brought from Grandmother’s
Land, and it was a strong horse; so I was up with the fronters. My
heart sang again. Maybe I would die on the prairie after all, and High
Horse would be waiting and he would see me far off and come running to
meet me.

“Then all at once the wagon-guns stopped shooting. It was still over
there.

“When we came to the top of the last hill, we saw the butchering. There
is a long crooked ravine and it runs down to a flat valley beside the
Wounded Knee. Along the ravine horseback soldiers were galloping this
way and that way, all mixed up. They were hunting down the women and
children who were still alive. The men were dead down yonder in the
valley where the butchering began.

“There were not many of us on the hilltop yet, but we could see others
coming behind us, and we charged down along the ravine. _Hokay-hey!
Hoka-hey!_ But our horses were worn out and could hardly gallop. I
think the soldiers did not know that we were few; and when they saw
others coming over the hill, they did not wait to fight us there. They
ran away towards the valley where there were more soldiers, and they
were getting off their horses to dig and fight lying down.

“When we charged down beside the ravine, there were dead women and
children scattered in it where the wagon-guns-that-shoot-twice
[Hotchkiss guns] caught them running away. Up on the hillside above the
ravine, there were some women and children huddled together in a gully,
and they screamed to us as we passed.

“It was not much of a fight. There were too many soldiers and we were
few, and the wagon-guns shot at those coming over the hill behind us.

“We circled back up along the hillside to where a few women and
children were still living.”

The old man paused and sat for a while with closed eyes. When he looked
at me again his face was aglow with a pervasive smile. “That is where I
found the road, Grandson,” he said. His voice was low and gentle, with
a quaver of age in it. “That is where I found the road.

“I did not know her at first. The last time I saw her she was a girl
yet; but that was when I went to Grandmother’s Land after the Rubbing
Out of Long Hair. She was older and heavier, and she was holding a
child under her blanket. I did not know her until she looked up at me,
crying hard, and said, ‘O _Shonka ’kan! Shonka ’kan!_ They have killed
him! They have killed him!’ Then I knew Tashina’s eyes with the tears
in them.”

The light went out of the old man’s face, and again he sat silent.

“It was not very far from there across the hills to the little gray log
house on White Horse Creek,” he continued at length. “I put her on my
horse and led him, walking, and all the while she held the child close
under her blanket, crying hard. It was a little boy and he was dead.

“That night the snow came and a great wind blew, and we were alone in
the little gray house. When the storm died, and it was very cold, some
people came and we heard that her man was dead in the valley where the
butchering began.

“Looks Twice and my mother came back with my grandfather and
grandmother. We lived together there until the young grass came. And
then one day when she did not cry any more, and we were talking about
the good days, I said, ‘I want to be your horse again. Do I have to go
and eat grass?’”

The old man chuckled over the memory for a while, and then he said, the
warm glow spreading from his smile: “That is when we made this little
gray house here where my daughter lives, and now she is getting old too.

“It was a good road that we walked together, Grandson. Sometimes we
were hungry, but it was a good road. Our children came to us, and when
we were old, we saw our grandchildren too. It was a good road.”

At this point it seemed that I had suddenly dropped out of the old
man’s world, and a great distance lay between us. He sat with closed
eyes, making low, plaintive sounds on his eagle-bone whistle. When
he had sat thus over long, I said, “Grandfather, you still have your
eagle-bone whistle; but what became of the sacred quirt?”

Slowly he returned to awareness of my presence, the smile and glow warm
upon his time-carved face.

“When she died--” he said in a low, gentle voice that quavered a
bit--“when she died, I just put it down beneath her dress, between her
breasts. I would not need it any more.”


THE END




FOOTNOTES:

[1] Here the word signifies white man; but see page 36.

[2] Sioux.

[3] This prayer was given to me by my old friend and teacher, Black
Elk, the Oglala Sioux holy man.




Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other
spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

Italics are represented thus _italic_.



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