{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_34461/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_34461","id":"gutenberg_34461","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34461","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Dakota Indians -- Juvenile fiction","Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by K Nordquist, Christine Aldridge and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.\n\n2. In the Glossary of Indian Words and Phrases located at the end of\n   this e-text, vowels with diacritical marks are represented as follows:\n\n   macron (straight line, for long vowel sound) as [=x]\n   caron (v-shaped accent for short vowel sound) as [)x]\n\n   where \"x\" is the vowel represented.\n\n3. Additional Transcriber's Notes appear at the end of this e-text.\n\n\n\n\nRed Hunters\nAnd the Animal People\n\nBy\n\nCharles A. Eastman\n(Ohiyesa)\nAUTHOR OF \"INDIAN BOYHOOD\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNew York and London\n\nHarper & Brothers\nPublishers, 1904\n\n\nCopyright, 1904, by HARPER & BROTHERS.\n\n_All rights reserved._\nPublished November, 1904.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration:                            [See p. 149\n\"THERE STOOD, IN ALL HIS MAJESTY, THE GRAY CHIEFTAIN\"]\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\n\n   THE GREAT CAT'S NURSERY                                 3\n\n   ON WOLF MOUNTAIN                                       24\n\n   THE DANCE OF THE LITTLE PEOPLE                         46\n\n   WECHAH THE PROVIDER                                    66\n\n   THE MUSTERING OF THE HERDS                             89\n\n   THE SKY WARRIOR                                       106\n\n   A FOUNDER OF TEN TOWNS                                123\n\n   THE GRAY CHIEFTAIN                                    143\n\n   HOOTAY OF THE LITTLE ROSEBUD                          159\n\n   THE RIVER PEOPLE                                      177\n\n   THE CHALLENGE                                         200\n\n   WILD ANIMALS FROM THE INDIAN STAND-POINT              224\n\n   GLOSSARY OF INDIAN WORDS AND PHRASES                  247\n\n\n\n\nForeword\n\n\n\"And who is the grandfather of these silent people? Is it not the Great\nMystery? For they know the laws of their life so well! They must have\nfor their Maker our Maker. Then they are our brothers!\"\n\nThus spoke one of the philosophers and orators of the Red men.\n\nIt is no wonder that the Indian held the animals to be his brothers. In\nhis simple mind he regards the killing of certain of them for his\nsustenance to be an institution of the \"Great Mystery.\" Therefore he\nkills them only as necessity and the exigencies of life demand, and not\nwantonly. He regards the spirit of the animal as a mystery belonging to\nthe \"Great Mystery,\" and very often after taking its life he pays due\nhomage to its spirit. In many of the Dakota legends it appeared that\nsuch and such an animal came and offered itself as a sacrifice to save\nthe Red man from starvation.\n\nIt was formerly held by him that the spirits of animals may communicate\nimportant messages to man. The wild hunter often refused during the\nremainder of his life to kill certain animals, after he had once become\nacquainted with their spirit or inner life. Many a hunter has absented\nhimself for days and nights from his camp in pursuit of this knowledge.\nHe considered it sacrilege to learn the secrets of an animal and then\nuse this knowledge against him. If you wish to know his secrets you must\nshow him that you are sincere, your spirit and his spirit must meet on\ncommon ground, and that is impossible until you have abandoned for the\ntime being your habitation, your weapons, and all thoughts of the chase,\nand entered into perfect accord with the wild creatures. Such were some\nof the most sacred beliefs of the Red man, which led him to follow the\ntrails of the animal people into seclusion and the wildest recesses of\nthe woods and mountains.\n\nObservations made for the purposes of the hunt are entirely distinct\nfrom this, the \"spirit hunt,\" and include only the outward habits and\nnoticeable actions of the game.\n\nThe stories contained in this book are based upon the common experiences\nand observations of the Red hunter. The main incidents in all of them,\neven those which are unusual and might appear incredible to the white\nman, are actually current among the Sioux and deemed by them worthy of\nbelief.\n\nWhen the life-story of an animal is given, the experiences described are\ntypical and characteristic of its kind. Here and there the fables,\nsongs, and superstitious fancies of the Indian are brought in to suggest\nhis habit of mind and manner of regarding the four-footed tribes.\n\nThe scene of the stories is laid in the great Northwest, the ancient\nhome of the Dakota or Sioux nation, my people. The Great Pipestone\nQuarry, Eagle's Nest Butte, the Little Rosebud River, and all the other\nplaces described under their real names are real and familiar features\nof that country, which now lies mainly within the States of Minnesota\nand the Dakotas. The time is before 1870, when the buffalo and other\nlarge game still roamed the wilderness and the Red men lived the life I\nknew as a boy.\n\n                                         OHIYESA (CHARLES A. EASTMAN).\n\n  AMERST, MASS.\n\n\n\n\nRed Hunters and the Animal People\n\n\n\n\nThe Great Cat's Nursery\n\n\nA harsh and hateful cry of a sudden broke the peace of a midsummer night\nupon the creek called Bear-runs-in-the-Lodge. It told many things to the\nRed hunter, who, though the hour was late, still sat beside the dying\ncamp-fire, pulling away at his long-stemmed pipe.\n\n\"Ugh!\" he muttered, as he turned his head in the direction of the deep\nwoods and listened attentively. The great cat's scream was not repeated.\nThe hunter resumed his former attitude and continued to smoke.\n\nThe night was sultry and threatened storm, and all creatures, especially\nthe fiercer wild animals, become nervous and irritable when thunder is\nin the air. Yet this fact did not fully explain to his mind Igmutanka's\nwoman-like, almost hysterical complaint.\n\nHaving finished his smoke, he emptied the ashes out of the bowl of the\npipe and laid it against the teepee-pole at his back. \"Ugh!\" the hunter\nonce more muttered to himself, this time with a certain complacency. \"I\nwill find your little ones to-morrow! That is what you fear.\"\n\nThe Bear-runs-in-the-Lodge is a deep and winding stream, a tributary of\nthe Smoking Earth River, away up at the southern end of the Bad Lands.\nIt is, or was then, an ideal home of wild game, and a resort for the\nwild hunters, both four-footed and human. Just here the stream, dammed\nof many beaver, widens its timbered bottoms, while its high banks and\nthe rough country beyond are studded with dwarf pines and gullied here\nand there with canyon-like dry creeks.\n\nHere the silvertip held supreme sway over all animals, barring an\noccasional contest with the mountain lion and with the buffalo bull upon\nthe adjoining plains. It is true that these two were as often victorious\nas he of the big claws and sharp incisors, yet he remained the terror of\nthat region, for he alone takes every opportunity to fight and is\nreckless in his courage, while other chiefs of the Wild Land prefer to\navoid unnecessary trouble.\n\nIgmutanka, the puma mother, had taken her leave of her two little tawny\nbabes about the middle of the afternoon. The last bone of the buffalo\ncalf which she had brought home from her last hunt had been served for\ndinner. Polished clean by her sharp teeth, it lay in the den for the\nkittens to play with. Her mate had left her early on that former hunt,\nand had not returned. She was very nervous about it, for already she\nfeared the worst.\n\nSince she came to Bear-runs they had been together, and their chance\nacquaintance had become a love affair, and finally they had chosen and\nmade a home for themselves. That was a home indeed! Wildness, mystery,\nand beauty combined in its outlook and satisfied every craving of the\nsavage pair. They could scarcely say that it was quiet; for while they\nwere unassuming enough and willing to mind their own affairs, Wild Land\nis always noisy, and the hubbub of the wild people quite as great in its\nway as that of the city of man.\n\nThe stream was dammed so often that Igmu did not have to jump it. The\nwater-worn cliffs, arching and overhanging every turn of the creek, were\ndark with pines and cedars. Since her babies came she had not ventured\nupon any long hunts, although ordinarily she was the more successful of\nthe two.\n\nNow Igtin was gone and she was very hungry. She must go out to get meat.\nSo, after admonishing her babies to be still during her absence, and not\nto come out of their den when Shunktokecha, the wolf, should invite them\nto do so, she went away.\n\nAs the great cat slunk down the valley of the Bear-runs she stopped and\nglanced nervously at every tree-root and grinning ledge of rock. On the\nway to Blacktail Creek she had to cross the divide, and when she had\nattained the Porcupine Butte she paused a moment for a survey, and saw a\nlarge herd of buffalo lying down. But their position was not convenient\nfor an attack. There was no meat for her there.\n\nShe entered the upper end of the Blacktail and began to hunt down to its\nmouth. At the first gulch there was a fresh trail. On that very morning\nthree black-tail deer had watered there.\n\nIgmu withdrew and re-entered the valley lower down. She took her stand\nupon a projection of the bank almost overhanging the stream, a group of\nbuffalo-berry bushes partly concealing her position. Here they will\npass, she thought, in returning to the main stream. Her calculation\nproved correct. Soon she saw a doe with two yearlings coming towards\nher, leisurely grazing on the choice grass.\n\nThe three were wholly unconscious of their danger. Igmu flattened her\nlong, lanky body against the ground--her long, snaky tail slowly moved\nto and fro as the animals approached. In another moment she had sprung\nupon the nearest fawn! A shrill scream of agony and the cracking of\ntender bones mingled with the gladness of satisfying the pangs of\nhunger. The mother doe and the remaining fawn fled for their lives over\nthe hills to the next creek, knowing well that she would not expose\nherself in an open chase.\n\nShe stood over the lifeless body for a moment, then grabbed it by the\nneck and dragged it into the dry bed of a small creek, where she was\nnot likely to be disturbed at her feast. The venison tasted deliciously,\nespecially as the poor nursing mother was almost famished. Having eaten\nall she wanted, she put her claim-mark on the deer and covered it partly\nup. It was her practice to cover her game to season, and also to make it\nplain to all that know the laws of Wild Land that it is her\ngame--Igmutanka's! If any one disturbs it, he is running great risk of a\npitched battle, for nothing exasperates her family like the theft of\ntheir game.\n\nShe could not carry any of it home with her, for even while she feasted\nshe had seen an enemy pass by on the other side of the creek. He rode a\nlong-tailed elk (pony) and carried a bagful of those dreadful winged\nwillows, and the crooked stick which makes the winged willows fly. Igmu\nstopped eating at once and crouched lower. \"Don't you dare come near\nme,\" was the thought apparent through her large, round eyes. The man\npassed without discovering her retreat.\n\n\"My babies!\" thought Igmu. \"They are all alone!\" The mother-anxiety\nseized her. It was dangerous now to cross the open, but her desire to\nget back to her babies was stronger than fear. She ran up the ravine as\nfar as it went; then, seeing no one, ran like a streak over the divide\nto the Porcupine Butte, where there were large rocks piled one upon\nanother. Here she watched again under cover. \"Aw-yaw-yaw!\" burst from\nher in spite of herself. There were many cone-shaped teepees, which had\nsprung up since the day before upon the wide plain.\n\n\"There are the homes of those dreadful wild men! They always have with\nthem many dogs, and these will surely find my home and babies,\" she\nthought. Although her anxiety was now very great, and the desire to\nreach home almost desperate, she yet kept her animal coolness and\ncaution. She took a winding ravine which brought her nearer to\nBear-runs, and now and then she had to run swiftly across the openings\nto gain less-exposed points.\n\nAt last she came to the old stream, and the crossing where the Bobtail\nBeaver had lived for as long as she knew anything about that country.\nHer dam was always in perfect order, and afforded an excellent bridge.\nTo be sure, they had never been exactly on calling terms, but they had\nbecome accustomed to one another as neighbors, and especially whenever\ndanger threatened upon the Bear-runs there was a certain sense of\nsecurity and satisfaction to each in the presence of the other.\n\nAs she passed hurriedly over the dam she observed a trap. Igmu shivered\nas she recognized the article, and on a closer examination she detected\nthe hated odor of man. She caught the string attached to it and jerked\nit out upon dry land, thus doing a good turn to her neighbor Sinteksa.\n\nThis discovery fully convinced her of the danger to her home and\nchildren. She picked her way through the deep woods, occasionally\npausing to listen. At that time of the day no people talk except the\nwinged people, and they were joyous as she passed through the timber.\nShe heard the rushing of a water-fall over the cliff, now vibrating\nlouder, now fainter as she listened. Far beyond, towards the wild men's\ncamp, she heard the barking of a dog, which gave her a peculiar shiver\nof disgust.\n\nA secret path led along the face of the cliff, and there was one open\nspot which she must cross to get to her den. \"Phur-r-r!\" she breathed,\nand dropped to the ground. There stood one of the dreaded wild men!\n\nNo sooner had she put her head out of the woods than his quick eye\ncaught her. \"Igmutanka!\" he exclaimed, and pulled one of the winged\nsticks out of his little bag.\n\nIgmu was surprised for once, and fear almost overcame her. The danger to\nher children and the possible fate of her mate came into her mind in a\nflash. She hesitated for one instant, and in that instant she felt the\nsting of the swift arrow. She now ran for her life, and in another\nmoment was out of sight among the gray ledges. \"Ugh! I got her,\"\nmuttered the Indian, as he examined the spot where she had stood.\n\nIgmu never stopped until she reached her den. Her wild eyes gleamed as\nshe paused at the entrance to ascertain whether any one had been there\nsince she went away. When she saw and smelled that her home had not been\nvisited, she forgot for the moment all her fright and pain. Her heart\nbeat fast with joy--the mother-joy. Hastily she crawled into the dark\ncave.\n\n\"Yaw-aw-aw!\" was the mother's greeting to her tawny babes. \"Yaw-aw-aw!\"\nthey replied in chorus. She immediately laid herself down in the\nfarthest corner of the den facing the entrance and invited her babies to\ncome and partake of their food. Doubtless she was considering what she\nshould do when the little ones had appeased their hunger.\n\nPresently the bigger baby finished his meal and began to claw the eyes\nof his brother. The latter pulled away, smacking his lips and blindly\nshowing fight.\n\n\"Hush!\" said the mother Igmu. \"You must be good. Lie down and I will\ncome back soon.\"\n\nShe came out of her den, still carrying the winged stick in her back. It\nwas only a skin wound. She got hold of the end between her teeth and\nwith one jerk she pulled it out. The blood flowed freely. She first\nrolled upon some loose earth and licked the wound thoroughly. After this\nshe went and rubbed against pine pitch. Again she licked the pitch off\nfrom her fur; and having applied all the remedies known to her family,\nshe re-entered the cave.\n\nIgmu had decided to carry her helpless babes to a den she knew of upon\nCedar Creek, near the old Eagle's Nest--a rough and remote spot where\nshe felt sure that the wild men would not follow. But it was a long way\nto travel, and she could carry only one at a time. Meanwhile the hunters\nand their dogs would certainly track her to her den.\n\nIn her own mind she had considered the problem and hit upon an\nexpedient. She took the smaller kitten by the skin of the back and\nhurried with it to her neighbor Sinteksa's place, down on the creek.\nThere were some old, tumble-down beaver houses which had long been\ndeserted. Without ceremony she entered one of these and made a temporary\nbed for her babe. Then she went back to her old home for the last time,\ntook the other kitten in her mouth, and set out on her night journey to\nCedar Creek.\n\nIt was now dark. Her shortest road led her near the camp of the red\npeople; and as she knew that men and dogs seldom hunt by night, she\nventured upon this way. Fires were blazing in the camp and the Red men\nwere dancing the \"coyote dance.\" It was a horrible din! Igmu trembled\nwith fear and disgust as the odor of man came to her sensitive nostrils.\nIt seemed to her at this moment that Igtin had certainly met his death\nat the hands of these dreadful people.\n\nShe trotted on as fast as she could with her load, only stopping now and\nthen to put it down and lick the kitten's back. She laid her course\nstraight over the divide, down to the creek, and then up towards its\nsource. Here, in a wild and broken land, she knew of a cavern among\npiled-up rocks that she intended to make her own. She stopped at the\nconcealed threshold, and, after satisfying herself that it was just as\nshe had left it several months before, she prepared a bed within for her\nbaby, and, having fed him, she admonished him to be quiet and left him\nalone. She must return at once for the other little cat.\n\nBut Igmu had gone through a great deal since the day before. It was now\nalmost morning, and she was in need of food. She remembered the cached\ndeer on the Blacktail Creek, and set out at once in that direction. As\nusual, there were many fresh deer-tracks, which, with the instinct of a\nhunter, she paused to examine, half inclined to follow them, but a\nsecond thought apparently impelled her to hurry on to her cache.\n\nThe day had now dawned and things appeared plain. She followed the\ncreek-bed all the way to the spot where she had killed her deer on the\nday before. As she neared it her hunger became more and more\nirresistible; yet, instead of rushing upon her own, when she came within\na few paces of it she stopped and laid herself prone upon the earth,\naccording to the custom of her people. She could not see it, for it was\nhidden in a deep gully, the old bed of a dry stream. As she lay there\nshe switched her tail slowly to and fro, and her eyes shot yellow fire.\n\nSuddenly Igmu flattened out like a sunfish and began to whine nervously.\nHer eyes became two flaming globes of wrath and consternation. She\ngradually drew her whole body into a tense lump of muscles, ready to\nspring. Her lips unconsciously contracted, showing a set of fine\nteeth--her weapons--while the very ground upon which she lay was deeply\nscarred by those other weapons, the claws. Eagerly she listened once\nmore--she could hear the cracking of bones under strong teeth.\n\nHer blood now surged beyond all discretion and control. She thought of\nnothing but that the thief, whoever he might be, must feel the\npunishment due to his trespass. Two long springs, and she was on top of\na wicked and huge grizzly, who was feasting on Igmutanka's cached deer!\nHe had finished most of the tender meat, and had begun to clean his\nteeth by chewing some of the cartilaginous bones when the attack came.\n\n\"Waw-waw-waw-waaw!\" yelled the old root-digger, and threw his immense\nleft arm over his shoulder in an effort to seize his assailant. At the\nsame time her weight and the force of her attack knocked him completely\nover and rolled him upon the sandy ground.\n\nIgmu saw her chance and did not forget the usage of her people in a\nfight with his. She quickly sprang aside when she found that she could\nnot hold her position, and there was danger of Mato slashing her side\nwith either paw. She purposely threw herself upon her back, which\nposition must have been pleasing to Mato, for he rushed upon her with\nall the confidence in the world, being ignorant of the trick.\n\nIt was not long before the old bear was forced to growl and howl\nunmercifully. He found that he could neither get in his best fight for\nhimself nor get away from such a deadly and wily foe. He had hoped to\nchew her up in two winks, but this was a fatal mistake. She had sprung\nfrom the ground under him and had hugged him tight by burying the\nimmense claws of her fore-paws in his hump, while her hind claws tore\nhis loins and entrails. Thus he was left only his teeth to fight with;\nbut even this was impossible, for she had pulled herself up close to his\nneck.\n\nWhen Mato discovered his error he struggled desperately to get away, but\nhis assailant would not let go her vantage-hold.\n\n\"Waw-waw-waw!\" yelled the great boastful Mato once more, but this time\nthe tone was that of weakness and defeat. It was a cry of \"Murder!\nmurder! Help! help!\"\n\nAt last Igmutanka sprang aside, apparently to see how near dead the\nthief might be, and stood lashing her long, snaky tail indignantly.\n\n\"Waw-waw, yaw-waw!\" moaned and groaned the grizzly, as he dragged\nhimself away from the scene of the encounter. His wounds were deadly and\nugly. He lay down within sight of the spot, for he could go no farther.\nHe moaned and groaned more and more faintly; then he was silent. The\ngreat fighter and victor in many battles is dead!\n\nFive paces from the remains of the cached deer the victor, lying in the\nshade of an immense pine, rested and licked her blood-soaked hair. She\nhad received many ugly gashes, but none of them necessarily mortal.\nAgain she applied her soil and pitch-pine remedy and stopped the\nhemorrhage. Having done this, she realized that she was still very\nhungry; but Igmu could not under any circumstances eat of the meat left\nand polluted by the thief. She could not break the custom of her people.\n\nSo she went across from Blacktail to the nearest point upon\nBear-runs-in-the-Lodge, her former home, hoping to find some game on the\nway. As she followed the ravine leading from the creek of her fight she\ncame upon a doe and fawn. She crouched down and crawled up close to\nthem, then jumped upon the fawn. The luscious meat--she had all she\nwanted!\n\nThe day was now well advanced, and the harassed mother was growing\nimpatient to reach the babe which she had left in one of the abandoned\nhomes of Mrs. Bobtail Beaver. The trip over the divide between Blacktail\nand Bear-runs was quickly made. Fear, loneliness, and anxiety preyed\nupon her mind, and her body was weakened by loss of blood and severe\nexertion. She dwelt continually on her two babes, so far apart, and her\ndread lest the wild men should get one or both of them.\n\nIf Igmu had only known it, but one kitten was left to her at that\nmoment! She had not left the cave on Cedar Creek more than a few minutes\nwhen her own cousin, whom she had never seen and who lived near the\nEagle's Nest upon the same creek, came out for a hunt. She intercepted\nher track and followed it.\n\nWhen she got to the den it was clear to Nakpaksa (Torn Ear) that this\nwas not a regular home, so that she had a right to enter and\ninvestigate. To her surprise she found a little Igmutanka baby, and he\ncried when he saw her and seemed to be hungry. He was the age of her own\nbaby which she had left not long before, and upon second thought she was\nnot sure but that he was her own and that he had been stolen. He had\nevidently not been there long, and there was no one near to claim him.\nSo she took him home with her. There she found her own kitten safe and\nglad to have a playmate, and Nakpaksa decided, untroubled by any pangs\nof conscience, to keep him and bring him up as her own.\n\nIt is clear that had Igmu returned and missed her baby there would have\nbeen trouble in the family. But, as the event proved, the cousin had\nreally done a good deed.\n\nIt was sad but unavoidable that Igmu should pass near her old home in\nreturning for the other kitten. When she crawled along the rocky ledge,\nin full view of the den, she wanted to stop. Yet she could not re-enter\nthe home from which she had been forced to flee. It was not the custom\nof her people to do so. The home which they vacate by chance they may\nre-enter and even re-occupy, but never the home which they are forced to\nleave. There are evil spirits there!\n\nHurt and wearied, yet with courage unshaken, the poor savage mother\nglided along the stream. She saw Mrs. Bobtail and her old man cutting\nwood dangerously far from the water, but she could not stop and warn\nthem because she had borrowed one of their deserted houses without their\npermission.\n\n\"Mur-r-r-r!\" What is this she hears? It is the voice of the wild men's\ncoyotes! It comes from the direction of the kitten's hiding-place. Off\nshe went, only pausing once or twice to listen; but it became more and\nmore clear that there was yelling of the wild men as well.\n\nShe now ran along the high ledges, concealing herself behind trees and\nrocks, until she came to a point from which she could overlook the\nscene. Quickly and stealthily she climbed a large pine. Behold, the\nlittle Igmu was up a small willow-tree! Three Indians were trying to\nshake him down, and their dogs were hilarious over the fun.\n\nHer eyes flamed once more with wrath and rebellion against injustice.\nCould neither man nor beast respect her rights? It was horrible! Down\nshe came, and with swift and cautious step advanced within a very few\npaces of the tree before man or beast suspected her approach.\n\nJust then they shook the tree vigorously, while the poor little Igmu,\nclinging to the bough, yelled out pitifully, \"Waw, waw, waw!\"\n\nMother-love and madness now raged in her bosom. She could not be quiet\nany longer! One or two long springs brought her to the tree. The black\ncoyotes and the wild men were surprised and fled for their lives.\n\nIgmu seized and tore the side of one of the men, and threw a dog against\nthe rocks with a broken leg. Then in lightning fashion she ran up the\ntree to rescue her kitten, and sprang to the ground, carrying it in her\nteeth. As the terrified hunters scattered from the tree, she chose the\npath along the creek bottom for her flight.\n\nJust as she thought she had cleared the danger-point a wild man appeared\nupon the bank overhead and, quick as a flash, sent one of those winged\nwillows. She felt a sharp pang in her side--a faintness--she could not\nrun! The little Igmu for whom she had made such a noble fight dropped\nfrom her mouth. She staggered towards the bank, but her strength refused\nher, so she lay down beside a large rock. The baby came to her\nimmediately, for he had not had any milk since the day before. She gave\none gentle lick to his woolly head before she dropped her own and died.\n\n\"Woo, woo! Igmutanka ye lo! Woo, woo!\" the shout of triumph resounded\nfrom the cliffs of Bear-runs-in-the-Lodge. The successful hunter took\nhome with him the last of the Igmu family, the little orphaned kitten.\n\n\n\n\nOn Wolf Mountain\n\n\nOn the eastern slope of the Big Horn Mountains, the Mayala clan of gray\nwolves, they of the Steep Places, were following on the trail of a herd\nof elk. It was a day in late autumn. The sun had appeared for an\ninstant, and then passed behind a bank of cold cloud. Big flakes of snow\nwere coming down, as the lean, gray hunters threaded a long ravine,\ncautiously stopping at every knoll or divide to survey the outlook\nbefore continuing their uncertain pursuit.\n\nThe large Mayala wolf with his mate and their five full-grown pups had\nbeen driven away from their den on account of their depredations upon\nthe only paleface in the Big Horn valley. It is true that, from their\nstand-point, he had no right to encroach upon their hunting-grounds.\n\nFor three days they had been trailing over the Big Horn Mountains,\nmoving southeast towards Tongue River, where they believed that no man\nwould come to disturb them. They had passed through a country full of\ngame, but, being conscious of the pursuit of the sheepman and his party\non their trail, they had not ventured to make an open hunt, nor were\nthey stopping anywhere long enough to seek big game with success. Only\nan occasional rabbit or grouse had furnished them with a scanty meal.\n\nFrom the Black Canyon, the outlet of the Big Horn River, there unfolds a\nbeautiful valley. Here the wild man's ponies were scattered all along\nthe river-bottoms. In a sheltered spot his egg-shaped teepees were\nranged in circular form. The Mayala family deliberately sat upon their\nhaunches at the head of the canyon and watched the people moving,\nantlike, among the lodges.\n\nManitoo, the largest of the five pups, was a famous runner and hunter\nalready. He whimpered at sight of the frail homes of the wild man, and\nwould fain have gotten to the gulches again.\n\nThe old wolf rebuked his timidity with a low growl. He had hunted many a\ntime with one of these Red hunters as guide and companion. More than\nthis, he knew that they often kill many buffalo and elk in one hunting,\nand leave much meat upon the plains for the wolf people. They respect\nhis medicine and he respects theirs. It is quite another kind of man who\nis their enemy.\n\nPlainly there was an unusual commotion in the Sioux village. Ponies were\nbrought in, and presently all the men rode out in a southerly direction.\n\n\"Woo-o-o!\" was the long howl of the old wolf. It sounded almost like a\ncry of joy.\n\n\"It is the buffalo-hunt! We must run to the south and watch until the\nhunt is ended.\"\n\nAway they went, travelling in pairs and at some distance apart, for the\nsake of better precaution. On the south side of the mountain they stood\nin a row, watching hungrily the hunt of the Red men.\n\nThere was, indeed, a great herd of buffalo grazing upon the river plain\nsurrounded by foot-hills. The hunters showed their heads on three sides\nof the herd, the fourth side rising abruptly to the sheer ascent of the\nmountain.\n\nNow there arose in the distance a hoarse shout from hundreds of throats\nin unison. The trained ponies of the Indians charged upon the herd, just\nas the wolves themselves had sometimes banded together for the attack in\nbetter days of their people. It was not greatly different from the first\nonset upon the enemy in battle. Yelling and brandishing their weapons,\nthe Sioux converged upon the unsuspecting buffalo, who fled blindly in\nthe only direction open to them--straight toward the inaccessible steep!\n\nIn a breath, men and shaggy beasts were mixed in struggling confusion.\nMany arrows sped to their mark and dead buffalo lay scattered over the\nplain like big, black mounds, while the panic-stricken survivors fled\ndown the valley of the Big Horn. In a little while the successful\nhunters departed with as much meat as their ponies could carry.\n\nNo sooner were they out of sight than the old wolf gave a feast-call.\n\"Woo-o-o! woo, woo, woo!\" He was sure that they had left enough meat for\nall the wolf people within hearing distance. Then away they all went for\nthe hunting-ground--not in regular order, as before, but each one\nrunning at his best speed. They had not gone far down the slope before\nthey saw others coming from other hills--their gray tribesmen of the\nrocks and plains.\n\nThe Mayala family came first to two large cows killed near together.\nThere is no doubt that they were hungry, but the smell of man offends\nall of the animal kind. They had to pause at a distance of a few paces,\nas if to make sure that there would be no trick played on them. The old\nMayala chief knew that the man with hair on his face has many tricks. He\nhas a black, iron ring that is hidden under earth or snow to entrap the\nwolf people, and sometimes he puts medicine on the meat that tortures\nand kills them. Although they had seen these buffalo fall before their\nbrothers, the wild Red men, they instinctively hesitated before taking\nthe meat. But in the mean time there were others who came very hungry\nand who were, apparently, less scrupulous, for they immediately took\nhold of it, so that the Mayala people had to hurry to get their share.\n\nIn a short time all the meat left from the wild men's hunt had\ndisappeared, and the wolves began grinding the soft and spongy portions\nof the bones. The old ones were satisfied and lay down, while the young\nones, like young folks of any race, sat up pertly and gossipped or\nsquabbled until it was time to go home.\n\nSuddenly they all heard a distant call--a gathering call. \"Woo-oo-oo!\"\nAfter a few minutes it came again. Every gray wolf within hearing obeyed\nthe summons without hesitation.\n\nAway up in the secret recesses of the Big Horn Mountains they all came\nby tens and hundreds to the war-meeting of the wolves. The Mayala chief\nand his young warriors arrived at the spot in good season. Manitoo was\neager to know the reason of this great council. He was young, and had\nnever before seen such a gathering of his people.\n\nA gaunt old wolf, with only one eye and an immensely long nose, occupied\nthe place of honor. No human ear heard the speech of the chieftain, but\nwe can guess what he had to say. Doubtless he spoke in defence of his\ncountry, the home of his race and that of the Red man, whom he regarded\nwith toleration. It was altogether different with that hairy-faced man\nwho had lately come among them to lay waste the forests and tear up the\nvery earth about his dwelling, while his creatures devoured the herbage\nof the plain. It would not be strange if war were declared upon the\nintruder.\n\n\"Woo! woo! woo!\" The word of assent came forth from the throats of all\nwho heard the command at that wild council among the piled-up rocks, in\nthe shivering dusk of a November evening.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe northeast wind came with a vengeance--every gust swayed and bent\neven the mighty pines of the mountains. Soon the land became white with\nsnow. The air was full of biting cold, and there was an awfulness about\nthe night.\n\nThe sheepman at his lonely ranch had little warning of the storm, and he\ndid not get half of his cows in the corral. As for the sheep, he had\nalready rounded them up before the blizzard set in.\n\n\"My steers, I reckon, 'll find plenty of warm places for shelter,\" he\nremarked to his man. \"I kinder expect that some of my cows'll suffer;\nbut the worst of it is the wolves--confound them! The brutes been\nhowling last night and again this evenin' from pretty nigh every\nhill-top. They do say, too, as that's a sure sign of storm!\"\n\nThe long log-cabin creaked dismally under the blast, and the windward\nwindows were soon coated with snow.\n\n\"What's that, Jake? Sounds like a lamb bleating,\" the worried rancher\ncontinued.\n\nJake forcibly pushed open the rude door and listened attentively.\n\n\"There is some trouble at the sheep-sheds, but I can't tell just what\n'tis. May be only the wind rattling the loose boards,\" he suggested,\nuncertainly.\n\n\"I expect a grizzly has got in among the sheep, but I'll show him that\nhe is at the wrong door,\" exclaimed Hank Simmons, with grim\ndetermination. \"Get your rifle, Jake, and we'll teach whoever or\nwhatever it may be that we are able to take care of our stock in night\nand storm as well as in fair weather!\"\n\nHe pushed the door open and gazed out into the darkness in his turn, but\nhe could not see a foot over the threshold. A terrific gust of wind\ncarried a pall of snow into the farthest corner of the cabin. But Hank\nwas a determined fellow, and not afraid of hardship. He would spend a\nnight in the sod stable to watch the coming of a calf, rather than run\neven a small chance of losing it.\n\nBoth men got into their cowhide overcoats and pulled their caps well\ndown over their ears. Rifle in hand, they proceeded towards the\nsheep-corral in single file, Jake carrying the lantern. The lambs were\nbleating frantically, and as they approached the premises they\ndiscovered that most of the sheep were outside.\n\n\"Keep your finger on the trigger, Jake! All the wolves in the Big Horn\nMountains are here!\" exclaimed Hank, who was a few paces in advance.\n\nHad they been inexperienced men--but they were not. They were both men\nof nerve. \"Bang! bang!\" came from two rifles, through the frosty air and\nblinding snow.\n\nBut the voice of the guns did not have the demoralizing effect upon\nwhich they had counted. Their assailants scarcely heard the reports for\nthe roar of the storm. Undaunted by the dim glow of the lantern, they\nbanded together for a fresh attack. The growling, snarling, and gnashing\nof teeth of hundreds of great gray wolves at close quarters were enough\nto dismay even Hank Simmons, who had seen more than one Indian fight and\nhair-breadth adventure.\n\n\"Bang! bang!\" they kept on firing off their pieces, now and then\nswinging the guns in front of them to stay the mad rush of the wild\narmy. The lantern-light revealed the glitter of a hundred pairs of\nfierce eyes and shining rows of pointed teeth.\n\nHank noticed a lean, gray wolf with one eye and an immense head who was\nforemost in the attack. Almost abreast of him was a young wolf, whose\ngreat size and bristling hair gave him an air of ferocity.\n\n\"Hold hard, Jake, or they'll pick our bones yet!\" Hank exclaimed, and\nthe pair began to retreat. They found it all they could do to keep off\nthe wolves, and the faithful collie who had fought beside them was\ncaught and dragged into darkness. At last Hank pushed the door open and\nboth men tumbled backward into the cabin.\n\n\"Shoot! shoot! They have got me!\" yelled Jake. The other snatched a\nblazing ember from the mud chimney and struck the leading wolf dead\npartly within the hut.\n\n\"Gol darn them!\" ejaculated Jake, as he scrambled to his feet. \"That\nyoung wolf is a good one for fighting--he almost jerked my right leg\noff!\"\n\n\"Well, I'll be darned, Jake, if they haven't taken one of your boots for\na trophy,\" Hank remarked, as he wiped the sweat from his brows, after\nkicking out the dead wolf and securely barring the door. \"This is the\nclosest call I've had yet! I calculate to stand off the Injuns most any\ntime, but these here wolves have no respect for my good rifle!\"\n\nWazeyah, the god of storm, and the wild mob reigned outside the cabin,\nwhile the two pioneer stockmen barricaded themselves within, and with\nmany curses left the sheep to their fate.\n\nThe attack had stampeded the flock so that they broke through the\ncorral. What the assailants did not kill the storm destroyed. On the\nplateau in front of Mayaska the wolves gathered, bringing lambs, and\nhere Manitoo put down Jake's heavy cowhide boot, for it was he who\nfought side by side with the one-eyed leader.\n\nHe was immediately surrounded by the others, who examined what he had\nbrought. It was clear that Manitoo had distinguished himself, for he had\nstood by the leader until he fell, and secured, besides, the only trophy\nof the fight.\n\nNow they all gave the last war-cry together. It was the greatest\nwolf-cry that had been heard for many years upon those mountains. Before\ndaybreak, according to custom, the clans separated, believing that they\nhad effectually destroyed the business of the hairy-faced intruder, and\nexpecting by instant flight to elude his vengeance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the day before the attack upon the ranch, an Indian from the camp in\nthe valley had been appointed to scout the mountains for game. He was a\ndaring scout, and was already far up the side of the peak which overhung\nthe Black Canyon when he noticed the air growing heavy and turned his\npony's head towards camp. He urged him on, but the pony was tired, and,\nsuddenly, a blinding storm came sweeping over the mountainside.\n\nThe Indian did not attempt to guide his intelligent beast. He merely\nfastened the lariat securely to his saddle and followed behind on foot,\nholding to the animal's tail. He could not see, but soon he felt the\npony lead him down a hill. At the bottom it was warm, and the wind did\nnot blow much there. The Indian took the saddle off and placed it in a\nwash-out which was almost dry. He wrapped himself in his blanket and lay\ndown. For a long time he could feel and hear the foot-falls of his pony\njust above him, but at last he fell asleep.\n\nIn the morning the sun shone and the wind had subsided. The scout\nstarted for camp, knowing only the general direction, but in his\nwindings he came by accident upon the secret place, a sort of natural\ncave, where the wolves had held their war meeting. The signs of such a\nmeeting were clear to him, and explained the unusual number of\nwolf-tracks which he had noticed in this region on the day before.\nFarther down was the plateau, or wopata, where he found the carcasses of\nmany sheep, and there lay Jake's boot upon the bloody and trampled\nsnow!\n\nWhen he reached the camp and reported these signs to his people, they\nreceived the news with satisfaction.\n\n\"The paleface,\" said they, \"has no rights in this region. It is against\nour interest to allow him to come here, and our brother of the wandering\nfoot well knows it for a menace to his race. He has declared war upon\nthe sheepman, and it is good. Let us sing war-songs for the success of\nour brother!\" The Sioux immediately despatched runners to learn the\nexact state of affairs upon Hank Simmons's ranch.\n\nIn the mean time the ruined sheepman had made his way to the nearest\narmy post, which stood upon a level plateau in front of Hog's Back\nMountain.\n\n\"Hello, Hank, what's the matter now?\" quoth the sutler. \"You look\nuncommonly serious this morning. Are the Injuns on your trail again?\"\n\n\"No, but it's worse this time. The gray wolves of the Big Horn Mountains\nattacked my place last night and pretty near wiped us out! Every sheep\nis dead. They even carried off Jake Hansen's boot, and he came within\none of being eaten alive. We used up every cartridge in our belts, and\nthe bloody brutes never noticed them no more than if they were pebbles!\nI'm afraid the post can't help me this time,\" he concluded, with a deep\nsigh.\n\n\"Oh, the devil! You don't mean it,\" exclaimed the other. \"Well, I told\nyou before to take out all the strychnine you could get hold of. We have\ngot to rid the country of the Injuns and gray wolves before civilization\nwill stick in this region!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nManitoo had lost one of his brothers in the great fight, and another was\nbadly hurt. When the war-party broke up, Manitoo lingered behind to look\nfor his wounded brother. For the first day or two he would occasionally\nmeet one of his relations, but as the clan started southeast towards\nWolf Mountain, he was left far behind.\n\nWhen he had found his brother lying helpless a little way from the last\ngathering of the wolf people, he licked much of the blood from his coat\nand urged him to rise and seek a safer place. The wounded gray with\ndifficulty got upon his feet and followed at some distance, so that in\ncase of danger the other could give the signal in time.\n\nManitoo ran nimbly along the side gulches until he found a small cave.\n\"Here you may stay. I will go hunting,\" he said, as plain as signs can\nspeak.\n\nIt was not difficult to find meat, and a part of Hank's mutton was\nbrought to the cave. In the morning Manitoo got up early and stretched\nhimself. His brother did not offer to move. At last he made a feeble\nmotion with his head, opened his eyes and looked directly at him for a\nmoment, then closed them for the last time. A tremor passed through the\nbody of the warrior gray, and he was still. Manitoo touched his nose\ngently, but there was no breath there. It was time for him to go.\n\nWhen he came out of the death-cave on Plum Creek, Manitoo struck out at\nonce for the Wolf Mountain region. His instinct told him to seek a\nrefuge as far as possible from the place of death. As he made his way\nover the divide he saw no recent sign of man or of his own kinsfolk.\nNevertheless, he had lingered too long for safety. The soldiers at the\npost had come to the aid of the sheepman, and they were hot on his\ntrail. Perhaps his senses were less alert than usual that morning, for\nwhen he discovered the truth it was almost too late.\n\nA long line of hairy-faced men, riding big horses and armed with rifles,\ngalloped down the valley.\n\n\"There goes one of the gray devils!\" shouted a corporal.\n\nIn another breath the awful weapons talked over his head, and Manitoo\nwas running at top speed through a hail of bullets. It was a chase to\nkill, and for him a run for his life. His only chance lay in reaching\nthe bad places. He had but two hundred paces' start. Men and dogs were\ngaining on him when at last he struck a deep gulch. He dodged the men\naround the banks, and their dogs were not experts in that kind of\ncountry.\n\nThe Sioux runners in the mean time had appeared upon a neighboring\nbutte, and the soldiers, taking them for a war-party, had given up the\nchase and returned to the post. So, perhaps, after all, his brothers,\nthe wild hunters, had saved Manitoo's life.\n\nDuring the next few days the young wolf proceeded with caution, and had\nfinally crossed the divide without meeting either friend or foe. He was\nnow, in truth, an outcast and a wanderer. He hunted as best he could\nwith very little success, and grew leaner and hungrier than he had ever\nbeen before in his life. Winter was closing in with all its savage\nrigor, and again night and storm shut down over Wolf Mountain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe tall pines on the hill-side sighed and moaned as a new gust of wind\nswept over them. The snow came faster and faster. Manitoo had now and\nagain to change his position, where he stood huddled up under an\noverarching cliff. He shook and shook to free himself from the snow and\nicicles that clung to his long hair.\n\nHe had been following several black-tail deer into a gulch when the\nstorm overtook him, and he sought out a spot which was somewhat\nprotected from the wind. It was a steep place facing southward, well up\non the side of Wolf Mountain.\n\nBuffalo were plenty then, but as Manitoo was alone he had been unable to\nget meat.\n\nThese great beasts are dangerous fighters when wounded, and unless he\nhad some help it would be risking too much to tackle one openly. A band\nof wolves will attack a herd when very hungry, but as the buffalo then\nmake a fence of themselves, the bulls facing outward, and keep the\nlittle ones inside, it is only by tiring them out and stampeding the\nherd that it is possible to secure one.\n\nStill the wind blew and the snow fell fast. The pine-trees looked like\nwild men wrapped in their robes, and the larger ones might have passed\nfor their cone-shaped lodges. Manitoo did not feel cold, but he was soon\ncovered so completely that no eye of any of the wild tribes of that\nregion could have distinguished him from a snow-clad rock or mound.\n\nIt is true that no good hunter of his tribe would willingly remain idle\non such a day as that, for the prey is weakest and most easily conquered\non a stormy day. But the long journey from his old home had somewhat\ndisheartened Manitoo; he was weak from lack of food, and, more than all,\ndepressed by a sense of his loneliness. He is as keen for the\ncompanionship of his kind as his brother the Indian, and now he longed\nwith a great longing for a sight of the other members of the Mayala\nclan. Still he stood there motionless, only now and then sniffing the\nunsteady air, with the hope of discovering some passer-by.\n\nSuddenly out of the gray fog and frost something emerged. Manitoo was\nhidden perfectly, but at that moment he detected with joy the smell of\none of his own people. He sat up on his haunches awaiting the new-comer,\nand even gave a playful growl by way of friendly greeting.\n\nThe stranger stopped short as if frozen in her tracks, and Manitoo\nperceived a lovely maid of his tribe, robed in beautiful white snow over\nher gray coat. She understood the sign language of the handsome young\nman, with as nice a pair of eyes as she had ever seen in one of the wolf\nkind. She gave a yelp of glad surprise and sprang aside a pace or two.\n\nManitoo forgot his hunger and loneliness. He forgot even the hairy-faced\nmen with the talking weapons. He lifted his splendid, bushy tail in a\nrollicking manner and stepped up to her. She raised her beautiful tail\ncoquettishly and again leaped sidewise with affected timidity.\n\nManitoo now threw his head back to sniff the wind, and all the hair of\nhis back rose up in a perpendicular brush. Under other circumstances\nthis would be construed as a sign of great irritation, but this time it\nindicated the height of joy.\n\nThe wild courtship was brief. Soon both were satisfied and stood face to\nface, both with plumy tail erect and cocked head. Manitoo teasingly\nraised one of his fore-paws. They did not know how long they stood\nthere, and no one else can tell. The storm troubled them not at all, and\nall at once they discovered that the sun was shining!\n\nIf any had chanced to be near the Antelope's Leap at that moment, he\nwould have seen a beautiful sight. The cliff formed by the abrupt ending\nof a little gulch was laced with stately pines, all clad in a heavy\ngarment of snow. They stood like shapes of beauty robed in white and\njewels, all fired by the sudden bursting forth of the afternoon sun.\n\nThe wolf maiden was beautiful! Her robe was fringed with icicles which\nshone brilliantly as she stood there a bride. The last gust of wind was\nlike the distant dying away of the wedding march, and the murmuring\npines said Amen.\n\nIt was not heard by human ear, but according to the customs of the gray\nwolf clan it was then and there Manitoo promised to protect and hunt for\nhis mate during their lifetime.\n\n\n\n\nThe Dance of the Little People\n\n\nIn full view of Wetaota, upon an open terrace half-way up the side of\nthe hill in the midst of virgin Big Woods, there were grouped in an\nirregular circle thirty teepees of the Sioux. The yellowish-white skin\ncones contrasted quite naturally with the variegated foliage of\nSeptember, yet all of the woodland people knew well that they had not\nbeen there on the day before.\n\nWetaota, the Lake of Many Islands, lies at the heart of Haya Tanka, the\nBig Mountain. It is the chosen home of many wild tribes. Here the crane,\nthe Canadian goose, the loon, and other water-fowl come annually to\nbreed undisturbed. The moose are indeed the great folk of the woods, and\nyet there are many more who are happily paired here, and who with equal\nright may claim it as their domicile. Among them are some insignificant\nand obscure, perhaps only because they have little or nothing to\ncontribute to the necessities of the wild man.\n\nSuch are the Little People of the Meadow, who dwell under a thatched\nroof of coarse grasses. Their hidden highways and cities are found near\nthe lake and along the courses of the streams. Here they have toiled and\nplayed and brought forth countless generations, and few can tell their\nlife-story.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Ho, ho, kola!\" was the shout of a sturdy Indian boy, apparently about\nten years old, from his post in front of the camp and overlooking the\nlake. A second boy was coming towards him through the woods, chanting\naloud a hunting song after the fashion of their fathers. The men had\nlong since departed on the hunt, and Teola, who loved to explore new\ncountry, had already made the circuit of Wetaota. He had walked for\nmiles along its tortuous sandy shores, and examined the signs of most of\nthe inhabitants.\n\nThere were footprints of bears, moose, deer, wolves, mink, otter, and\nothers. The sight of them had rejoiced the young hunter's heart, but he\nknew that they were for his elders. The woods were also full of\nsquirrels, rabbits, and the smaller winged tribes, and the waters alive\nwith the finny folk, all of which are boys' game. Yet it was the\ndelicate sign-language of the Hetunkala, the Little People of the\nMeadow, which had aroused the enthusiasm of Teola, and in spite of\nhimself he began to sing the game scout's song, when Shungela heard and\ngave him greeting.\n\n\"What is the prospect for our hunt to-day?\" called Shungela, as soon as\nhis friend was near enough to speak.\n\n\"Good!\" Teola replied, simply. \"It is a land of fatness. I have looked\nover the shores of Wetaota, and I think this is the finest country I\nhave ever seen. I am tired enough of prairie-dog hunts and catching\nyoung prairie-chickens, but there is everything here that we can chase,\nkill, or eat.\"\n\nShungela at once circulated the good game news among the boys, and in\nless time than it takes an old man to tell a story all the boys of the\ncamp had gathered around a bonfire in the woods.\n\n\"You, Teola, tell us again what you have seen,\" they exclaimed, in\nchorus.\n\n\"I saw the footprint of every creature that the Great Mystery has made!\nWe can fish, we can hunt the young crane, and snare the rabbit. We can\nfool the owl for a night-play,\" he replied, proudly.\n\n\"Ho, kola, washtay! Good news! good news!\" one urchin shouted. Another\nran up a tree like a squirrel in the exuberance of his delight. \"Heye,\nheye, he-e-e-e!\" sang another, joyously.\n\n\"Most of all in number are the Little People of the Meadow! Countless\nare their tiny footprints on the sandy shores of Wetaota! Very many are\ntheir nests and furrows under the heavy grass of the marshes! Let\nShungela be the leader to-day in our attack upon the villages of the\nLittle People,\" suggested Teola, in whose mischievous black eyes and\nshaggy mane one beheld the very picture of a wild rogue.\n\n\"Ho, ho, hechetu!\" they all replied, in chorus.\n\n\"This is our first mouse-hunt this season, and you all know the custom.\nWe must first make our tiny bows and arrows,\" he said, again.\n\n\"Tosh, tosh! Of course!\" said they all.\n\nIn the late afternoon the sun shone warmly and everything was still in\nthe woods, but upon the lake the occasional cry of the loon was heard.\nAt some distance from the camp thirty or more little redskins met\ntogether to organize their mimic deer-hunt. They imitated closely the\ncustoms and manners of their elders while hunting the deer. Shungela\ngave the command, and all the boys advanced abreast, singing their\nhunting song, until they reached the meadow-land.\n\nHere the leader divided them into two parties, of which one went twenty\npaces in advance, and with light switches raked aside the dead grass,\nexposing a net-work of trails. The homes of the Little People were\nunderground, and the doors were concealed by last year's rank\nvegetation. While they kneeled ready to shoot with the miniature bow and\narrows the first fugitives that might pass, the second party advanced in\nturn, giving an imitation of the fox-call to scare the timorous Little\nPeople. These soon became bewildered, missed their holes, and were shot\ndown with unerring aim as they fled along their furrow-like paths.\n\nThere was a close rivalry among the boys to see who could bring down\nthe largest number of the tiny fugitives, but it was forbidden to open\nthe homes or kill any who were in hiding.\n\nIn a few minutes the mice were panic-stricken, running blindly to and\nfro, and the excitement became general.\n\n\"Yehe, yehe! There goes their chief! A white mouse!\" exclaimed one of\nthe boys.\n\n\"Stop shooting!\" came the imperative command from the shaggy-haired boy.\n\n\"It is a good sign to see their chief, but it is a very bad sign if we\nkill any after we have seen him,\" he explained.\n\n\"I have never heard that this is so,\" demurred Shungela, unwilling to\nyield his authority.\n\n\"You can ask your grandmother or your grandfather to-night, and you will\nfind that I am right,\" retorted the shaggy-haired one.\n\n\"Woo, woo!\" they called, and all the others came running.\n\n\"How many of you saw the white mouse?\" Teola asked.\n\n\"I saw it!\" \"I too!\" \"I too!\" replied several.\n\n\"And how many have heard that to see the chief of the mouse people\nbrings good luck if the mice are spared after his appearance, but that\nwhoever continues to kill them invites misfortune?\"\n\n\"I have heard it!\" \"And I!\" \"And I!\" The replies were so many that all\nthe boys were willing to concede the authenticity of the story, and the\nhunt was stopped.\n\n\"Let us hear the mouse legends again this evening. My grandfather will\ntell them to us,\" Teola suggested, and not a boy there but was ready to\naccept the invitation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPadanee was an ordinary looking old Indian, except that he had a really\nextraordinary pair of eyes, whose searching vision it seemed that\nnothing could escape. These eyes of his were well supported by an\nuncommonly good memory. His dusky and furrowed countenance was lighted\nas by an inner flame when once he had wound the buffalo-robe about his\nlean, brown limbs and entered upon the account of his day's experience\nin the chase, or prepared to relate to an attentive circle some\noft-repeated tradition of his people.\n\n\"Hun, hun, hay!\" The old savage cleared his throat. A crowd of\nbright-eyed little urchins had slipped quietly into his lodge. \"Teola\ntells me that you had all set out to hunt down and destroy the Little\nPeople of the Meadow, and were only stopped by seeing their chief go by.\nI want to tell you something about the lives of these little creatures.\nWe know that they are food for foxes and other animals, and that is as\nfar as most of us think upon the matter. Yet the Great Mystery must have\nhad some purpose in mind when He made them, and doubtless that is good\nfor us to know.\"\n\nPadanee was considered a very good savage school-teacher, and he easily\nheld his audience.\n\n\"When you make mud animals,\" he continued, \"you are apt to vary them a\nlittle, perhaps for fun and perhaps only by accident. It is so with the\nGreat Mystery. He seems to get tired of making all the animals alike,\nfor in every tribe there are differences.\n\n\"Among the Hetunkala, the Little People, there are several different\nbands. Some live in one place and build towns and cities like the white\nman. Some wander much over forest and prairie, like our own people.\nThese are very small, with long tails, and they are great jumpers. They\nare the thieves of their nation. They never put up any food of their\nown, but rob the store-houses of other tribes.\n\n\"Then there is the bobtailed mouse with white breast. He is very much\nlike the paleface--always at work. He cannot pass by a field of the wild\npurple beans without stopping to dig up a few and tasting to see if they\nare of the right sort. These make their home upon the low-lying\nprairies, and fill their holes with great store of wild beans and edible\nroots, only to be robbed by the gopher, the skunk, the badger, who not\nonly steal from them but often kill and eat the owner as well. Our old\nwomen, too, sometimes rob them of their wild beans.\n\n\"This fellow is always fat and well-fed, like the white man. He is a\nharvester, and his full store-houses are found all through the bottom\nlands.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho! Washtay lo!\" the boys shouted. \"Keep on, grandfather!\"\n\n\"Perhaps you have heard, perhaps not,\" resumed the old man. \"But it is\nthe truth. These little folk have their own ways. They have their plays\nand dances, like any other nation.\"\n\n\"We never heard it; or, if we have, we can remember it better if you\nwill tell it to us again!\" declared the shaggy-haired boy, with\nenthusiasm.\n\n\"Ho, ho, ho!\" they all exclaimed, in chorus.\n\n\"Each full moon, the smallest of the mouse tribe, he of the very sharp\nnose and long tail, holds a great dance in an open field, or on a sandy\nshore, or upon the crusty snow. The dance is in honor of those who are\nto be cast down from the sky when the nibbling of the moon begins; for\nthese Hetunkala are the Moon-Nibblers.\"\n\nAs this new idea dawned upon Padanee's listeners, all tightened their\nrobes around them and sat up eagerly.\n\nAt this point a few powerful notes of a wild, melodious music burst\nspontaneously from the throat of the old teacher, for he was wont to\nstrike up a song as a sort of interlude. He threw his massive head back,\nand his naked chest heaved up and down like a bellows.\n\n\"One of you must dance to this part, for the story is of a dance and\nfeast!\" he exclaimed, as he began the second stanza.\n\nTeola instantly slipped out of his buffalo-robe and stepped into the\ncentre of the circle, where he danced crouchingly in the firelight,\nkeeping time with his lithe brown body to the rhythm of the\nlegend-teller's song.\n\n\"O-o-o-o!\" they all hooted at the finish.\n\n\"This is the legend of the Little People of the Meadow. Hear ye! hear\nye!\" said Padanee.\n\n\"Ho-o-o!\" was the instant response from the throats of the little Red\nmen.\n\n\"A long time ago, the bear made a medicine feast, and invited the\nmedicine-men (or priests) of all the tribes. Of each he asked one\nquestion, 'What is the best medicine (or magic) of your tribe?'\n\n\"All told except the little mouse. He was pressed for an answer, but\nreplied, 'That is my secret.'\n\n\"Thereupon the bear was angry and jumped upon the mouse, who disappeared\ninstantly. The big medicine-man blindly grabbed a handful of grass,\nhoping to squeeze him to death. But all the others present laughed and\nsaid, 'He is on your back!'\n\n\"Then the bear rolled upon the ground, but the mouse remained uppermost.\n\n\"'Ha, ha, ha!' laughed all the other medicine-men. 'You cannot get rid\nof him.'\n\n\"Then he begged them to knock him off, for he feared the mouse might run\ninto his ear. But they all refused to interfere.\n\n\"'Try your magic on him,' said they, 'for he is only using the charm\nthat was given him by the Great Mystery.'\n\n\"So the bear tried all his magic, but without effect. He had to promise\nthe little mouse that, if he would only jump off from his body, neither\nhe nor any of his tribe would ever again eat any of the Little People.\n\n\"Upon this the mouse jumped off.\n\n\"But now Hinhan, the owl, caught him between his awful talons, and said:\n\n\"'You must tell your charm to these people, or I will put my charm on\nyou!'\n\n\"The little medicine-man trembled, and promised that he would if the owl\nwould let him go. He was all alone and in their power, so at last he\ntold it.\n\n\"'None of our medicine-men,' he began, 'dared to come to this lodge. I\nalone believed that you would treat me with the respect due to my\nprofession, and I am here.' Upon this they all looked away, for they\nwere ashamed.\n\n\"'I am one of the least of the Little People of the Meadow,' said the\nmouse. 'We were once a favored people, for we were born in the sky. We\nwere able to ride the round moon as it rolls along. We were commissioned\nat every full moon to nibble off the bright surface little by little,\nuntil all was dark. After a time it was again silvered over by the Great\nMystery, as a sign to the Earth People.\n\n\"'It happened that some of us were careless. We nibbled deeper than we\nought, and made holes in the moon. For this we were hurled down to the\nearth. Many of us were killed; others fell upon soft ground and lived.\nWe do not know how to work. We can only nibble other people's things and\ncarry them away to our hiding-places. For this we are hated by all\ncreatures, even by the working mice of our own nation. But we still\nretain our power to stay upon moving bodies, and that is our magic.'\n\n\"'Ho, ho, ho!' was the response of all present. They were obliged to\nrespond thus, but they were angry with the little mouse, because he had\nshamed them.\n\n\"It was therefore decreed in that medicine-lodge that all the animals\nmay kill the Hetunkala wherever they meet them, on the pretext that they\ndo not belong upon earth. All do so to this day except the bear, who is\nobliged to keep his word.\"\n\n\"O-o-o-o!\" shouted the shaggy-haired boy, who was rather a careless sort\nin his manners, for one should never interrupt a story-teller.\n\n\"It is almost full moon now, grandfather,\" he continued, \"and there are\nnice, open, sandy places on the shore near the mouse villages. Do you\nthink we might see them dancing if we should watch to-night?\"\n\n\"Ho, takoja! Yes, my grandson,\" simply replied the old man.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe sand-bar in front of the Indian camp was at some little distance,\nout of hearing of the occasional loud laughter and singing of the\npeople. Wetaota was studded with myriads of jewel-like sparkles. On the\nshadowy borders of the lake, tall trees bodied forth mysterious forms\nof darkness. There was something weird in all this beauty and silence.\n\nThe boys were scattered along in the tall grass near the sand-bar, which\nsloped down to the water's edge as smooth as a floor. All lay flat on\ntheir faces, rolled up in their warm buffalo-robes, and still further\nconcealed by the shadows of the trees. The shaggy-haired boy had a bow\nand some of his best arrows hidden under his robe. No two boys were\ntogether, for they knew by experience the temptation to whisper under\nsuch circumstances. Every redskin was absorbed in watching for the\nLittle People to appear upon their playground, and at the same time he\nmust be upon the alert for an intruder, such as Red Fox, or the\nHooting-owl of the woods.\n\n\"It seems strange,\" thought Teola, as he lay there motionless, facing\nthe far-off silvery moon, \"that these little folk should have been\nappointed to do a great work,\" for he had perfect faith in his\ngrandfather's legend of the Moon-Nibblers.\n\n\"Ah-h-h!\" he breathed, for now he heard a faint squeaking in the thick\ngrass and rushes. Soon several tiny bodies appeared upon the open, sandy\nbeach. They were so round and so tiny that one could scarcely detect the\nmotion of their little feet. They ran to the edge of the water and\nothers followed them, until there was a great mass of the Little People\nupon the clean, level sand.\n\n\"Oh, if Hinhan, the owl, should come now, he could carry away both claws\nfull!\" Teola fancied.\n\nPresently there was a commotion among the Hetunkala, and many of them\nleaped high into the air, squeaking as if for a signal. Teola saw\nhundreds of mice coming from every direction. Some of them went close by\nhis hiding-place, and they scrutinized his motionless body apparently\nwith much care. But the young hunter instinctively held his breath, so\nthat they could not smell him strongly, and at last all had gone by.\n\nThe big, brown mice did not attend this monthly carnival. They were too\nwise to expose themselves upon the open shore to the watchful eyes of\ntheir enemies. But upon the moonlit beach the small people, the\nMoon-Nibblers, had wholly given themselves up to enjoyment, and seemed\nto be forgetful of their danger. Here on Wetaota was the greatest\ngathering that Teola had ever seen in all his life.\n\nOccasionally he thought he noticed the white mouse whom he supposed to\nbe their chief, for no reason except that he was different from the\nothers, and that was the superstition.\n\nAs he watched, circles were formed upon the sand, in which the mice ran\nround and round. At times they would all stand still, facing inward,\nwhile two or three leaped in and out of the ring with wonderful\nrapidity. There were many changes in the dance, and now and then one or\ntwo would remain motionless in the centre, apparently in performance of\nsome ceremony which was not clear to Teola.\n\nAll at once the entire gathering became, in appearance, a heap of little\nround stones. There was neither sound nor motion.\n\n\"Ho, ho, ho!\" Teola shouted, as he half raised himself from his\nhiding-place and flourished part of his robe in the clear moonlight. A\nbig bird went up softly among the shadowy trees. All of the boys had\nbeen so fascinated by the dance that they had forgotten to watch for\nthe coming of Hinhan, the owl, and now this sudden transformation of the\nLittle People! Each one of them had rolled himself into the shape of a\npebble, and sat motionless close to the sand to elude the big-eyed one.\n\nThey remained so until the owl had left his former perch and flown away\nto more auspicious hunting-grounds. Then the play and dance became more\ngeneral and livelier than ever. The Moon-Nibblers were entirely given\nover to the spirit and gayety of the occasion. They ran in new circles,\nsometimes each biting the tail of his next neighbor. Again, after a\ngreat deal of squeaking, they all sprang high in the air, towards the\ncalm, silvery orb of the moon. Apparently they also beheld it in front\nof them, reflected in the placid waters of Wetaota, for they advanced in\ncolumns to the water's edge, and there wheeled into circles and whirled\nin yet wilder dance.\n\nAt the height of the strange festival, another alarm came from the\nshaggy-haired boy. This time all the boys spied Red Fox coming as fast\nas his legs could carry him along the beach. He, too, had heard the\nfairy laughter and singing of the Moon-Nibblers, and never in his whole\nwild career is he better pleased than when he can catch a few of them\nfor breakfast or supper.\n\nNo people know the secret of the dance except a few old Indians and Red\nFox. He is so clever that he is always on the watch for it just before\nthe full moon. At the first sound that came to his sharp ears he knew\nwell what was going on, and the excitement was now so great that he was\nassured of a good supper.\n\n\"Hay-ahay! Hay-ahay!\" shouted the shaggy-haired boy, and he sent a swift\narrow on a dangerous mission for Red Fox. In a moment there came another\nwar-whoop, and then another, and it was wisdom for the hungry one to\ntake to the thick woods.\n\n\"Woo, woo! Eyaya lo! Woo, woo!\" the boys shouted after him, but he was\nalready lost in the shadows.\n\nThe boys came together. Not a single mouse was to be seen anywhere, nor\nwould any one suspect that they had been there in such numbers a few\nmoments earlier, except for the finest of tracery, like delicate\nhandwriting, upon the moonlit sand.\n\n\"We have learned something to-night,\" said Teola. \"It is good. As for\nme, I shall never again go out to hunt the Little People.\"\n\n\n\n\nWechah the Provider\n\n\n\"Come, Wechah, come away! the dogs will tease you dreadfully if they\nfind you up a tree. Enakanee (hurry)!\" Wasula urged, but the mischievous\nWechah still chose to remain upon the projecting limb of an oak which\nmade him a comfortable seat. It was apparently a great temptation to him\nto climb every large, spreading tree that came in his way, and Wasula\nhad had some thrilling experiences with her pet when he had been\nattacked by the dogs of the camp and even by wild animals, so it was no\nwonder that she felt some anxiety for him.\n\nWasula was the daughter of a well-known warrior of the Rock Cliff\nvillagers of the Minnesota River. Her father had no son living,\ntherefore she was an only child, and the most-sought-after of any maiden\nin that band. No other girl could boast of Wasula's skill in paddling\nthe birch canoe or running upon snow-shoes, nor could any gather the\nwild rice faster than she. She could pitch the prettiest teepees, and\nher nimble, small fingers worked very skilfully with the needle. She had\nmade many embroidered tobacco-pouches and quivers which the young men\nwere eager to get.\n\nMore than all this, Wasula loved to roam alone in the woods. She was\npassionately fond of animals, so it was not strange that, when her\nfather found and brought home a baby raccoon, the maiden took it for her\nown, kept it in an upright Indian cradle and played mother to it.\n\nWasula was as pretty and free as a teal-duck, or a mink with its\nslender, graceful body and small face. She had black, glossy hair,\nhanging in two plaits on each side of her head, and a calm, childlike\nface, with a delicate aquiline nose. Wechah, when he was first put into\nher hands, was nothing more than a tiny ball of striped fur, not unlike\na little kitten. His bright eyes already shone with some suggestion of\nthe mischief and cunning of his people. Wasula made a perfect baby of\nhim. She even carved all sorts of playthings out of hoof and bone, and\ntied them to the bow of the cradle, and he loved to play with them. He\napparently understood much that she said to him, but he never made any\nattempt to speak. He preferred to use what there is of his own language,\nbut that, too, he kept from her as well as he could, for it is a secret\nbelonging only to his tribe.\n\nWechah had now grown large and handsome, for he was fat and sleek. They\nhad been constantly together for over a year, and his foster-mother had\ngrown very much attached to him. The young men who courted Wasula had\nconspired at different times against his life, but upon second thought\nthey realized that if Wasula should suspect the guilt of one of them his\nchance of winning her would be lost forever.\n\nIt is true he tried their patience severely, but he could not help this,\nfor he loved his mistress, and his ambition was to be first in her\nregard. He was very jealous, and, if any one appeared to divide her\nattention, he would immediately do something to break up the company.\nSometimes he would resort to hiding the young man's quiver, bow, or\ntomahawk, if perchance he put it down. Again he would pull his long\nhair, but they could never catch him at this. He was quick and sly. Once\nhe tripped a proud warrior so that he fell sprawling at the feet of\nWasula. This was embarrassing, and he would never again lay himself open\nto such a mishap. At another time he pulled the loose blanket off the\nsuitor, and left him naked. Sometimes he would pull the eagle feather\nfrom the head of one and run up a tree with it, where he would remain,\nand no coaxing could induce him to come down until Wasula said:\n\n\"Wechah, give him his feather! He desires to go home.\"\n\nWechah truly thought this was bright and cunning, and Wasula thought so\ntoo. While she always reprimanded him, she was inwardly grateful to him\nfor breaking the monotony of courtship or rebuking the presumption of\nsome unwelcome suitor.\n\n\"Come down, Wechah!\" she called, again and again. He came part way at\nlast, only to take his seat upon another limb, where he formed himself\ninto a veritable muff or nest upon the bough in a most unconcerned way.\nAny one else would have been so exasperated that all the dogs within\nhearing would have been called into service to bay him down, but\nWasula's love for Wechah was truly strong, and her patience with him was\nextraordinary. At last she struck the tree a sharp blow with her\nhatchet. The little fellow picked himself up and hastily descended, for\nhe knew that his mistress was in earnest, and she had a way of punishing\nhim for disobedience. It was simple, but it was sufficient for Wechah.\n\nWasula had the skin of a buffalo calf's head for a work-bag, beautifully\nembroidered with porcupine quills about the open mouth, nose, eyes, and\nears. She would slip this over Wechah's head and tie his fore-paws\ntogether so that he could not pull it off. Then she would take him to\nthe spring under the shadow of the trees and let him look at himself.\nThis was enough punishment for him. Sometimes even the mention of the\ncalf's head was enough to make him submit.\n\nOf course, the little Striped Face could take his leave at any time that\nhe became dissatisfied with his life among the Red people. Wasula had\nmade it plain to him that he was free. He could go or stay; but,\napparently, he loved her too well to think of leaving. He would curl\nhimself up into a ball and lie by the hour upon some convenient branch\nwhile the girl was cutting wood or sitting under a tree doing her\nneedle-work. He would study her every movement, and very often divine\nher intentions.\n\nWasula was a friend to all the little people of the woods, and\nespecially sympathized with the birds in their love-making and\nhome-building. Wechah must learn to respect her wishes. He had once\nstolen and devoured some young robins. The parent birds were frantic\nabout their loss, which attracted the girl's attention. The wicked\nanimal was in the midst of his feast.\n\n\"Glechu! glechu (Come down)!\" she called, excitedly. He fully understood\nfrom the tone that all was not right, but he would not jump from the\ntree and run for the deep woods, thereby avoiding punishment and gaining\nhis freedom. The rogue came down with all the outward appearance of one\nwho pleads guilty to the charge and throws himself upon the judge's\nmercy. She at once put him in the calf's head and bound his legs, and\nhe had nothing to eat for a day and a night.\n\nIt was a great trial to both of them. Wadetaka, the dog, for whom he had\nno special love, was made to stand guard over the prisoner so that he\ncould not get away and no other dog could take advantage of his\nhelplessness. Wasula was very sorry for him, but she felt that he must\nlearn his lesson. That night she lay awake for a long time. To be sure,\nWechah had been good and quiet all day, but his tricks were many, and\nshe had discovered that his people have danger-calls and calls for help\nquite different from their hunting and love calls.\n\nAfter everybody was asleep, even Wadetaka apparently snoring, and the\ncamp-fire was burning low, there was a gentle movement from the\ncalf's-head bag. Wasula uncovered her head and listened. Wechah called\nsoftly for help.\n\n\"Poor Wechah! I don't want him to be angry with me, but he must let the\nlittle birds' homes alone.\"\n\nAgain Wechah gave his doleful call. In a little while she heard a\nstealthy footfall, and at the same time Wadetaka awoke and rushed upon\nsomething.\n\nIt was a large raccoon! He ran up a near-by tree to save himself, for\nWadetaka had started all the dogs of the camp. Next the hunters came\nout. Wasula hurriedly put on her moccasins and ran to keep the men from\nshooting the rescuer.\n\nWechah's friend took up his position upon one of the upper limbs of a\nlarge oak, from which he looked down with blazing eyes upon a motley\ncrew. Near the root of the tree Wechah lay curled up in a helpless ball.\nThe new-comer scarcely understood how this unfortunate member of his\ntribe came into such a predicament, for when some one brought a torch he\nwas seen to rise, but immediately fell over again.\n\n\"Please do not kill him,\" pleaded Wasula. \"It is a visitor of my pet,\nwhom I am punishing for his misconduct. As you know, he called for help\naccording to the custom of his tribe.\"\n\nThey all laughed heartily, and each Indian tied up his dog for the rest\nof the night, so that the visitor might get away in safety, while the\ngirl brought her pet to her own bed.\n\nIt was the Moon of Falling Leaves, and the band to which Wasula's father\nbelonged were hunting in the deep woods in Minnesota, the Land of\nSky-colored Water. The band had divided itself into many small parties\nfor the fall and winter hunt. When this particular party reached\nMinnetonka, the Big Lake, they found the hunting excellent. Deer were\nplenty, and the many wooded islands afforded them good feeding-places.\nThe men hunted daily, and the women were busy preparing the skins and\ncuring the meat. Wechah wandered much alone, as Wasula was busy helping\nher mother.\n\nAll went well for many weeks; and even when the snow fell continuously\nfor many a day and the wind began to blow, so that no hunter dared\nemerge from his teepee, there was dried venison still and all were\ncheerful. At last the sun appeared.\n\n\"Hoye! hoye!\" was the cheerful cry of the hunting bonfire-builder, very\nearly in the morning. As it rang musically on the clear, frosty air,\neach hunter set out, carrying his snow-shoes upon his back, in the\npleasant anticipation of a good hunt. After the customary smoke, they\nall disappeared in the woods on the north shore of Minnetonka.\n\nAlas! it was a day of evil fortune. There was no warning. In the late\nafternoon one came back bleeding, singing a death-dirge. \"We were\nattacked by the Ojibways! All are dead save myself!\"\n\nThus was the little camp suddenly plunged into deep sorrow and mourning.\nDoleful wails came forth from every lodge, and the echoes from the many\ncoves answered them with a double sadness.\n\nAgain the storm-wind raged. This time the dried meat was gone, and all\nthe women did nothing but bewail their misfortunes. \"The evil spirit is\nupon us!\" they cried. \"The enemy has taken away our husbands, and now\nWazeyah, the god of storm and winter, is ready to slay us!\" So they\nmourned as those having no hope.\n\nWhen at last the storm ceased, the snow was very deep. The little ones\nwere famished. There was no meat in the camp and there were no hunters\nto hunt. They were far from their permanent village upon the Minnesota\nRiver. They must have food first, and then try to get back. So, for the\nchildren's sake, the brave mothers and elder sisters began to look about\nthem to decide upon some action.\n\n\"Wasula, my child, what are you thinking of?\" the mother asked.\n\n\"Mother, my father taught me to hunt, and he took so much pride in my\nsnow-shoeing! See, mother, here is one of his quivers full of arrows,\nand here is a good bow.\" The girl spoke earnestly. \"I can take care of\nyou, mother, until we get back to our relatives. I can shoot as straight\nas any brave, and my father taught me how to circle a doe or buck to a\nstand-still. Wechah will go with me and guide me, so that I shall not be\nlost,\" continued Wasula, with a show of cheerfulness.\n\n\"But you must be careful, my child! The Ojibways are not far away. Some\nof their warriors will perhaps have a mind to come again, now that they\nhave overcome all the men of our little band,\" sadly warned the mother.\n\nMeanwhile Wechah sat by watching every motion, as if trying to read\ntheir thoughts. He was evidently delighted when Wasula girdled herself\nand threw her snow-shoes diagonally across her back. He gave one big,\njoyous leap and ran out of sight ahead of her as she set out on the\nhunt. Her poor mother watched her through the pin-holes in the teepee.\n\"Ah, I fear--I fear the dreadful warriors of the Ojibways!\" she\nmuttered.\n\nThey went over the snow-clad Minnetonka towards Crane Island, and the\nfamished girl was scarcely able to run upon snow-shoes, although\nordinarily it was an easy task for her. Her people had been living upon\nrose-berries and roots. Wechah, with a light foot, ran ahead of her into\nthe thick woods.\n\nNo sooner was he out of sight of home than all his native cunning\nvividly returned to him, and the desire to find whatever was in his way.\nThrough the frosty air and among the snow-clad multitudinous trees he\nswiftly ran. His ancient calling thrilled him through and through. Now\nand then he ran up a tree, leaped far into the soft snow, and away he\nglided again. Not yet do the wild inhabitants of the woods come out for\ntheir guest, at least not upon Crane Island, for Wechah had not crossed\na single trail.\n\nDeep in the forest at last the little Striped Face gave his signal-call,\naccording to the custom of his people. Wasula turned in the direction\nof the sound and peered sharply through the snow-laden boughs. There he\nstood upon a large limb, anxiously awaiting her coming.\n\nHe leaped from his high perch toward her, struck the ground like a\npillow, and made the soft snow fly up like loose feathers.\n\n\"I see--I see your deer-track,\" she laughed at him. \"We shall try to get\none! You must now follow me, Wechah. It is Wasula's turn to lead.\"\n\nThe maiden's bow was carefully examined, and she picked out one of her\nbest arrows. Instead of following the trail, like a true hunter she\nstarted with the wind and ran along for some distance, then described a\ncircle, coming just inside of her starting-point. Again she made another\ncircle within the first, but no deer had crossed her track. Upon the\nthird round she spied them hiding behind a large, fallen oak, whose dead\nleaves afforded some shelter. As she described another circle to get\nwithin arrow-shot, the doe stretched out at full length upon the snow,\nlaying her ears back, rabbit-like, to escape detection. Wasula knew the\ntrick of holding her. She did not pause for an instant, but ran along\nuntil she gained an opening for a shot. Then she turned quickly upon the\nquivering doe and let her swift arrow fly.\n\nInstantly the doe and her two full-grown fawns got up and sprang away\nthrough the woods and out of sight. Wasula had seen her arrow enter the\ndoe's side. She examined the trail--it showed drops of blood--and\nimmediately the huntress followed the trail.\n\nIn a few moments she heard Wechah give his shrill, weird 'coon-call.\nThrough an alley between rows of trees she saw him standing proudly upon\nthe dead body of Takcha.\n\n\"Oh, I thank thee, Great Mystery! I thank you, Wechah, for your kind\nguidance,\" Wasula spoke, in a trembling voice. She took her\nhunting-knife from her belt and skinned the legs of the doe up to the\nknee-joints. Having unjointed them, she drew the fore-legs backward and\nfastened them securely; then she put her hunting-strap through the\nunder-jaw and attached her carrying-straps. Thus she proceeded to drag\nthe body home.\n\nWechah was as happy as if he had shot the deer himself. Wasula realized\nthat her people were starving and she ran as fast as she could, but\nbefore she was half-way across the lake her companion was in camp. As\nshe approached the shore, the stronger of the women came running to meet\nand relieve her of her burden. They were overwhelmed with joy. She\nslipped off her shoulder-straps and ran to her mother, while two of the\nothers hitched themselves to her carrying-lines and ran with the deer.\n\"Wasula, heroine, huntress! The gracious and high-minded!\" In such wise\nthe old people sang her praises.\n\nSeveral of the women had been out hunting, like Wasula, but none were as\nsuccessful as she and Wechah had been. Some brought back a single rabbit\nor a grouse to quiet their crying babies. One brought a dead raccoon\nwhich she had found in a trap. Wasula was sorry when Wechah saw this and\nbecame visibly depressed.\n\nWhen all the venison had been eaten, the rigor of winter still held in\nthis northern clime. The maiden hunted every day, but without success.\nOne afternoon the sun was getting low and she was still far from camp,\nbut she could not bear to go back empty-handed. She felt that upon her\nsuccess depended the lives of the others, for they could not yet move on\nfoot toward the village on the Minnesota River--the children would\nsuffer cruelly in such an attempt.\n\nShe was upon the trail of Shunktokecha, the wolf--not that she had any\nhope of overtaking him, but it is well known that he is a good guide.\nWechah, too, was apparently unwilling to leave the trail. Their course\nwas directed toward one of the outlets of the lake.\n\nWhen they reached this stream, other trails joined the one they were\nfollowing, making a broad path, and here and there the ice of the creek\nwas scratched by the wolf people as they passed. The huntress quickened\nher steps in renewed hope. She knew that upon the trail there lies much\nof joy, of fascination, and catastrophe; but every trailer only keeps\nthe joy in mind--it is enough to realize misfortune when it comes!\n\nAround a sudden bend of the frozen creek another hunter's voice was\nheard. It was Kangee, the raven. \"Surely, there is game there, dead or\nalive, for Kangee never speaks without a cause,\" she murmured.\n\nNow Wechah disappeared around the point, and when she came into full\nview she saw her pet jerk out of the stream something living. As the\nobject fell it curved itself upon the ice and again sprang glittering in\nthe air.\n\nWasula laughed, in spite of herself, the sing-song laugh of the wild\nmaid of the woods. \"Hoya! hoya!\" she screamed, and ran forward. Again\nand again Wechah snatched out of the live water a large fish. When she\nreached the spring in the creek, her pet had already taken out enough to\nfeed the whole camp.\n\nThe girl fell on her knees and peered into the water. It was packed to\nthe ice with the spring exodus of the finny tribes of Minnetonka for the\nspawning! Every year, before the spring opens, they crowd upon one\nanother in the narrow passes of the streams. There was a spring here\nwhere the ice was open, and hence the broad trail and the scratches of\nwolves, bears, raccoons, crows, ravens, and many more.\n\n\"Good Wechah! We shall live now--our people cannot starve,\" said\nWasula, feelingly, to her pet. Her responsibility as the main support of\nthe camp was greatly lightened. At last she took her hunting-knife from\nher belt and stripped the bark from a near-by birch. She shaped it into\na rough canoe and threw into it as many fish as it would hold. The sun\nalready hovered among the tree-tops as she hitched herself by means of\nher carrying-lines to the canoe-shaped tray full of fish and started\nhomeward across an arm of the frozen lake.\n\nWechah ran playfully in front of her. The wild pet was full of his\ncunning ways. When they reached a wooded shore he suddenly disappeared,\nand the girl did not know which way he went. Presently she thought she\nheard a baby cry away off in the woods; in a little while there seemed\nto be a skunk calling, nearer, and still nearer; again she heard the\ncall of an owl. Finally the mimic rushed upon her from behind the shadow\nof a huge pine, swiftly pursued by a bob-tailed 'coon.\n\n\"Ugh, Wechah! are you afraid of Sintay? 'Tis he is wicked and full of\ncunning! He has broken away from several steel traps, and he always\ntakes the bait of a deadfall without harm to himself. If he ever chases\nyou again I will punish him,\" declared the huntress.\n\nOn seeing Wasula, the animal had disappeared among the shadows almost as\nmysteriously as he emerged from them. It was now the close of Wechah\ntawee, the 'coon's month, when the male raccoon leaves his winter\nquarters and begins to look for company. This particular individual was\nwell known to the Indian hunters upon Lake Minnetonka. As Wasula had\nsaid, he was the cunningest of his tribe, and he was also unusually\nlarge and of a savage disposition. True, he fared luxuriously every day\nupon berries, mice, fish, frogs, eggs from the swamps, and young birds\nnot yet able to fly. Then he sleeps a long and happy sleep through the\ncoldest moons of the year, undisturbed save when the Red man and his\ndogs are about--he who loves to eat the fat of the 'coon and makes a\nbeautiful robe of his striped skin!\n\n\"You must keep away from Sintay, for he is dangerous,\" said Wasula, who\nalways talked to her pet as if he understood every word she said.\nNevertheless, while she struggled on with her load he had once more\ndisappeared. Soon a cry from him attracted her attention, and turning a\nlittle aside from her path, she beheld Sintay sitting upon a\nsnow-covered log at the root of a large hollow tree, holding a comb of\nwild honey in his two paws, listening angrily and growling over his\ninterrupted meal. In a moment something sprang into the air directly\nover his head and alighted in front of him. It was Wechah.\n\nSintay screamed and clawed the air with his right paw, at the same time\nclinging to the comb with the left. The new-comer bravely faced him.\nBoth were desperately in earnest, growling and snapping their sharp\nteeth. The bee-tree was the bone of contention, and it was well worth a\nfight.\n\nStriking out with his big right paw, the tame raccoon launched forth to\nsecure the comb, whereupon Sintay struck at him with his disengaged paw,\nbut refused to let go with the other. It was a ludicrous sight, and\nWasula could not help laughing, especially when her pet succeeded in\ntearing away a part of the comb and the contents were generously daubed\nover their fur. But the fight soon became serious, and Wechah was\ngetting the worst beating he had ever had when his mistress interfered.\nShe struck at Sintay with her drawn bow and he dodged quickly behind the\ntree, still unwilling to leave it to the intruders, but at last he fled.\nIt was the best thing for him to do!\n\nWechah stood before Wasula bleeding, his robe of fine fur sadly ruffled\nand plastered with honey and snow. He looked sorry for himself, yet\nproud of his discovery, and there was no time now to pity or rejoice. On\nthey ran till, within hailing distance of the camp, the girl gave the\nwolf-call. The others were already very anxious. \"She is coming!\" they\ncried to one another, joyously, and two went forth to meet her, for her\ncall meant a successful hunt.\n\nThus the maiden and her tame raccoon saved several families from\nstarvation. The run of fish would last for days, and there was much\nhoney in the tree, which they secured on the following day.\n\n\"It is my wish,\" said Wasula, \"that you do not trap the 'coon again this\nseason, for the sake of Wechah, who has saved us all. In gratitude to\nhim, withdraw your deadfalls.\"\n\nAll agreed to this. Yet one spring morning when they were about to set\nout on the return journey he was not to be found, and no one had seen\nhim. The huntress immediately took down her bow and quiver and searched\nfor his track, which she followed into the woods. Her love for Wechah\nhad never been fully realized by the people or perhaps even by herself.\n\"If Sintay has met and taken revenge upon him, I shall not return\nwithout his scalp,\" she said to herself.\n\nOver the still frozen lake to the nearest island lay Wechah's well-known\ntrack, and he was apparently hunting for company. It was the time of\nyear when his people do so. He had run far and wide, meeting here and\nthere a bachelor 'coon. The tracks told the story of how they merely\ndared one another and parted.\n\nAt last the trail lay over a slope overlooking a little cove, where\nthere stood a large sugar-maple. The upper quarter of it had been torn\noff by lightning, leaving a very high stump. Wechah's tracks led\ndirectly to this tree, and the scratches on its bark plainly told who\nlived there. It was the home of Wechawee, the 'coon maid.\n\nWasula took her small hatchet from her belt and struck several quick\nblows. There was a scrambling inside, and in a moment Wechah poked his\nquaint striped face from the top. He looked very much abashed. Like a\nguilty dog he whined, but showed no desire to come down.\n\n\"Wechah, you frightened me! I thought you had been killed. I am glad\nnow, my heart is good, that you have found your mate.\"\n\nAt this Wechah's new wife pushed her cunning head out beside that of her\nhusband. Wasula stood looking at them both for a few minutes with\nmingled pleasure and sorrow, and ere she left she sang a maiden's\nserenade to the bridegroom--the founder of a new clan!\n\n\n\n\nThe Mustering of the Herds\n\n\n\"Moo! Moo!\" rang out the deep, air-rending call--the gathering call of\nthe herds! Hinpoha, or Curly Hair, the young bison mother, threw back\nher head and listened nervously. She stood over her new-born baby in a\nhidden nook upon the Shaeyela River, that flows through the Land of\nMystery.\n\nNo one was there to see, except two magpies which were loitering in the\nneighborhood, apparently waiting for the mother to go away that they\nmight tease the helpless infant.\n\nTenderly she licked the moist hair of her dear one's coat, while the\nbeautiful black-and-white bird with the long tail talked to his mate of\nmischief and plunder. Then the mother gently poked and pushed her little\none, persuading her to get up and try her tiny, soft-soled feet. It was\nevident that she was not a common bison calf. Her color was not reddish\nbrown, but a soft, creamy white, like that of a sheep--the color of\nroyalty!\n\nShe toddled about unsteadily upon the thick mat of buffalo-grass. As she\nlearned to walk, step by step, the young mother followed her with\nanxious eyes. Presently the little creature made a feeble attempt at\nrunning. She lifted up her woolly tail, elevated a pair of transparent,\nleaf-like ears, and skipped awkwardly around her mother, who never took\nher black, limpid eyes from her wonderful first-born.\n\n\"Moo! Moo!\" Again Hinpoha heard the impatient gathering call. Hastily\nshe pushed her baby with caressing nose into an old buffalo-wallow\noverhung with tall grass, making a little cosey nest. The drooping\ngrass, like the robe of the Indian, concealed the little calf\ncompletely.\n\n\"You must stay here,\" she signed. \"Do not open your eyes to any\nstranger. Do not move at all.\"\n\nHinpoha trotted northward, following the ravine in which she had hidden\nher calf. No sooner had she disappeared from sight than those old\nplunderers, magpie and his mate, swooped down from the lone willow-tree\nthat overhung the spot. Both perched lightly upon the edge of the\nbuffalo-wallow. They saw and heard nothing. They looked at each other in\nsurprise. \"Ka, ka, ka,\" they talked together, wondering what had become\nof the baby bison.\n\nUp the long ascent Hinpoha ran, until she reached a point from which she\ncould command the valley and the place where she had hidden away her\ntreasure. Her watchful eyes ranged round the horizon and swept the\nsurrounding country. There was not a wolf there, she thought. She could\nsee the lone willow-tree that marked the spot. Beyond, the rough ridges\nand occasional buttes were studded with pines and cedars, while the\nwhite pillars and towers of the Bad Lands rose grandly in the distance.\n\nAs she went on to rejoin her herd upon the plains of the Shaeyela, she\nbeheld upon the flats the bison women gathered in great, black masses,\nwhile on either side of them the buffalo men roamed in small groups or\nsingly, like walking pine-trees. Shaeyela had never looked more lovely\nthan on that morning in early spring--a warm, bluish haze brooding over\nit--the big, ungainly cottonwoods, their branches knotted and gnarled\nlike the naked limbs of the old men, guarding the thin silver line of\nthe river.\n\nHinpoha ran swiftly down the last descent, now and then pausing for a\nmoment to announce her coming. Ordinarily she would have returned to her\npeople quietly and unnoticed, but she was excited by the unexpected\nsummons and moved to reply. As she entered the valley she saw other\nbuffalo women returning from their spring nurseries in the gulches,\ngiving their responses as they came. There was an undertone murmur\nthroughout the great concourse. All seemed to be moving toward the edge\nof the belt of timber that clothed the river-banks. They pressed through\na scattered growth of gray-green buffalo-berry bushes.\n\nBy the signs of the buffalo women and the sound of their lowings,\nHinpoha knew that this was a funeral gathering. She hastened on with\nmingled curiosity and anxiety. Within a circle of the thorny\nbuffalo-berry trees, under a shivering poplar, lay the lifeless form of\nPtesanwee, the white buffalo cow, the old queen of the Shaeyela herd.\n\nHere all the dusky women of the plains had gathered to pay their last\nrespects to their dead leader. Hinpoha pushed her way into the midst of\nthe throng for a parting look. She joined in the wailing of the other\nbison women, and the noise of their mourning echoed like distant thunder\nfrom the opposite cliffs of the Shaeyela.\n\nNo bull buffalo was allowed to come near while the women hovered about\ntheir dead leader. These had to return to their nurseries at last, and\nthen it was that the buffalo men approached in great numbers. The sound\nof their mourning was great! They tore up the sod with their hoofs as\nthey wailed loudly for the dead.\n\nThe sun hovered over the western hills ere the gathering dispersed. The\ndead was left to the silent night to cover, and the lonely poplar sang a\nsoft funeral song over her.\n\nHinpoha found her baby fast asleep when she reached her nursery upon\nWillow Creek. The little creature was fed, and played about her mother,\ngrazing in the quiet valley, where none might see the cradle of their\nfuture queen.\n\nAt the next mid-day, Hinpoha saw many of the bison people fleeing by her\nsecret camp. She at once suspected the neighborhood of the Red hunters.\n\"I shall go away, so that they will not find my teepee and my baby,\" she\nsaid to herself. Accordingly she came out and followed the trail of the\nfugitives in order to deceive the wild man, but at night she returned to\nher nursery.\n\nUpon the Shaeyela River, below the camp of the buffalo people, the wild\nRed men were likewise encamped in great numbers. Spring was here at\nlast, and nearly all of the snow had gone, even from the gulches and\ndeep ravines.\n\nA joyous hunting song pealed forth loudly from the council-lodge of the\nTwo Kettle band. The great drum beat a prelude to the announcement\nheralded throughout the camp.\n\n\"Hear ye, hear ye, warriors! The game scout has come back with the news\nthat the south fork of the Shaeyela is full of the buffalo people. It is\nthe will of the council that the young men should now make the great\nspring hunt of the bison. Fill your quivers with good arrows. Try your\nbows. Heya, heya, ha-a-a-a!\" Thus the herald circled the large\nencampment.\n\n\"Woo! woo!\" came from the council-lodge--a soldier-call, for the young\nmen to saddle up. At the same time, the familiar drum-beat was again\nheard. The old men, the council men, were now left alone to perform\nthose ceremonies which were held to insure good hunting.\n\nThe long-stemmed pipe was reverently lifted from the sacred ground which\nis its resting-place. The chief medicine-man, old Buffalo Ghost, took it\nin his sinewy hands, with the mouth-piece foremost. He held it toward\nheaven, then to the earth, and gave the \"spirit talk.\" Having ended, he\nlighted and passed it around the circle from left to right. Again one\nstruck the drum and sang in a high minor key. All joined in the refrain,\nand two got up and danced around the fire. This is done to call the\nspirits of the bison, and charm them into a happy departure for the\nspirit land.\n\nMeantime, the young warriors had mounted their trained buffalo-ponies,\nand with a great crowd on foot were moving up the valley of the\nShaeyela. From every divide they surveyed the country ahead, hoping to\nfind the buffalo in great numbers and to take them unawares. The chief\nhunter ascended a hill in advance of the others. \"Woo!\" he called, and\nwaved his right hand with the assurance of a successful hunt.\n\nThe warriors prepared for the charge just as they would prepare for an\nattack upon the enemy. All preliminary orders were given. The men were\nlined out on three sides, driving the herd toward the river. When the\nsignal was given, ponies and men sped forward with loosened hair and\nflying lariat. The buffalo were compelled to run toward the river, but\nsome refused to run, while many more broke through the attacking lines\nand fled across the Shaeyela and into the woods. There were some who\nstood their ground and formed an outward-facing circle around the low\nlittle buffalo-berry-hung grave. To this group many Red hunters came\nyelling and singing.\n\n\"Hanta, hanta yo!\" the leader cautioned, vainly. The first man who\nventured near the menacing circle was instantly tossed upon the horns\nof an immense bull. He lay motionless where he fell.\n\nNow the angry bison were left alone for the time, while the hunters\nwithdrew to a near-by hill for consultation. The signal of distress had\nbeen given, and soon the ridges were black with riders. The unfortunate\nhunter and his horse lay dead upon the plain!\n\n\"It is not the custom of the buffalo people to fight thus. They have\nbeen known to form a ring to defend themselves against wolves, but\nagainst man--never!\" declared the game leader. \"It is a sign of which we\nought to discover the meaning.\"\n\n\"You have heard their lowing,\" remarked another. \"It is their habit to\nmourn thus when they discover one of their number lying dead.\"\n\nSuddenly the buffalo women started away in single file, the bulls\nfollowing; and walking slowly, without molestation from any, they all\ndisappeared in the direction taken by the fleeing herd. The hunters now\neagerly advanced to the spot where lay dead the white bison cow, the\nqueen of the buffalo people. The strange action of her followers was\nexplained. Every warrior approached the place as if treading upon\nhallowed ground. They tied or hobbled their ponies at some distance, and\nall came with tobacco or arrows in their hands. They reverently\naddressed the dead cow and placed the tobacco gently around her for an\noffering. Thus strangely ended the first spring hunt of that year upon\nthe Shaeyela, the ancient home of the buffalo people, where always the\nbuffalo woman chief, the white cow, is seen--the most sacred and honored\nanimal among the Sioux!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe grass of the Bad Lands region was now spread in fresh green, all\nbeaded and porcupined with the early crocuses. The young queen was well\ngrown for her age, and could run as well as her mother for a mile or\ntwo. Along Willow Creek she had been made to try her speed many times\ndaily.\n\n\"Come,\" she signed to her, one bright May day, and they both set out for\nthe forks of the Shaeyela, where once more the buffalo people were\nassembled by thousands. Many of the mothers had already taken their\nchildren back to the herd. As Hinpoha passed the lone bulls who are\nwont to wander away from the rest for undisturbed feeding, they all\nturned to gaze at her and her strange daughter. Each gave her sonorous\ngreeting, and some even followed after at a distance in wonder and\nadmiration.\n\nWhen they reached a small group of buffalo women, there was much\ncommotion. One of the other mothers came forward to challenge Hinpoha to\na friendly contest, while the rest formed a ring around them, evidently\nadmiring the little calf. The black eyes and hoofs setting off her\ncreamy whiteness gave her a singularly picturesque appearance.\n\nAfter the friendly tussle, the mother and daughter continued on their\njourney to the forks of the Shaeyela. As they passed more and more of\ntheir people, the \"Moo\" was given continuously, announcing the coming of\nthe new queen of the tribe. When they arrived at the place of meeting,\nthe excitement was great. Everywhere buffalo people were running toward\nthem to greet them with the \"Moo!\" The little folks ran up full of\ncuriosity, turned large eyes and ears on the stranger, and then fled\naway with uplifted tail. The big, shaggy-haired old men came, too, and\nregarded her gravely. Hinpoha was proud of her conspicuous position; yet\nit was a trying reception, for every kind female caller felt obliged to\noffer her a friendly trial of strength. At such times the little calf\nwatched her mother with excited interest.\n\nThe day was warm, the air soft and summer-like. Whenever there is a\ngreat gathering of the bison, there are many contests and dances. So it\nwas on this occasion. It was their festival time, and the rumble of\ntheir voices was heard by the other tribes of the prairie a great way\noff.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAgain the herald's song pealed forth upon the sunshiny stillness of a\nMay morning. Every ear was turned to catch the expected announcement of\nthe wise men.\n\n\"Ye soldier hunters,\" was the summons, \"come home to the teyoteepee!\"\nMany of the warriors, wrapped in their robes, walked slowly toward the\ncouncil-lodge in the middle of the Indian encampment.\n\n\"Hear ye, men and warriors!\" exclaimed the chief of the teyoteepee,\nwhen all were met together. \"Our game scout has returned with the word\nthat upon the forks of the Shaeyela the buffalo people are holding their\nsummer gathering. Furthermore, he says that he saw a young buffalo chief\nwoman--a white calf! In the morning all the hunters are commanded to\nmake an attack upon the herd. If it be possible, we shall capture the\nlittle queen.\n\n\"Hear ye, hear ye! We shall dance the great buffalo-dance to-night! The\nGreat Mystery is good to us. Few men are so favored as to see the queen\nof the buffalo people even once in a lifetime.\n\n\"Eyuha nahon po!\" he continued, \"hearken to the legend that is told by\nthe old men. The buffalo chief woman is the noblest of all animals--the\nmost beloved of her people. Where she is, there is the greatest\ngathering of her tribe--there is plenty for the Indian! They who see her\nshall be fortunate in hunting and in war. If she be captured, the people\nwho take her need never go hungry. When the bison is scarce, the\nexhibition of her robe in the buffalo-dance will bring back many to the\nneighborhood!\n\n\"To-morrow we will make a great hunt. Be strong of heart, for her people\nwill not flee, as is their wont, but will fight for her!\"\n\n\"Ho, ho! hi, hi!\" replied all the warriors.\n\nThe buffalo were now holding their summer feasts and dances upon the\nShaeyela River--the tricky Shaeyela, who, like her sister, the Big\nMuddy, tears up her banks madly every spring freshet, thus changing her\nbed continually. The little hills define it abruptly, and the tributary\ncreeks are indicated by a few dwarf pines and cedars, peeping forth like\nbears from the gulches. Upon the horizon the Bad Lands stand out in bold\nrelief, their ruined pyramids and columns bespeaking the power of the\nGreat Mystery.\n\nHere at the forks the poplar-trees and buffalo-berry-bushes glistened in\nfresh foliage, and the deep-yellow flowers of the wild bull-currant\nexhaled their musky odor. There was a wide, green plain for the buffalo\npeople to summer in, and many had come to see their baby queen, for the\nwhite bison was always found in the midst of the greatest gathering of\nher people. No chief buffalo woman was ever seen with a little band.\n\nThe morning was good; the sun wore a broad smile, and his children upon\nthe Shaeyela River, both bison and wild Red men, were happy in their own\nfashion. The little fires were sportively burning outside of each\nteepee, where the morning meal had been prepared. It had been decreed by\nthe council that the warriors should paint, after the custom of warfare,\nwhen they attacked the buffalo chief woman and her people upon the forks\nof the Shaeyela.\n\nUpon the slope of a long ridge the hunters gathered. Their dusky faces\nand naked bodies were extravagantly painted; their locks fantastically\ndressed; even the ponies were decorated. Upon the green plain below the\nbison were quietly grazing, and in the very centre of the host the\nlittle queen frisked about her mother. It was fully four arrow-flights\ndistant from the outer edge of the throng, and sentinel bulls were\nposted still farther out, in precaution for her safety.\n\nThe Indians overlooking the immense herd had already pointed out the\nwhite calf in awe-struck whispers. To them she looked like an\nearth-visiting spirit in her mysterious whiteness. There were several\nthousand pairs of horns against their few hundred warriors, yet they\nknew that if they should succeed in capturing this treasure, the story\nwould be told of them for generations to come. It was sufficient honor\nfor the risk of a brave man's life.\n\n\"Hukahay! hukahay!\" came the signal. Down the slope they sped to the\nattack with all the spirit and intrepidity of the gray wolf. \"Woo! woo!\"\ncame from every throat in a hoarse shout. The earth under their ponies'\nfeet fairly trembled.\n\nThe buffalo bull sentinels instantly gave the alarm and started back in\nthe direction of the main body. A cloud of dust arose toward the sun as\nthe mighty gathering was set in motion. Deadly arrows flew like winged\nthings, and the beating of thousands of hoofs made a noise like thunder.\nYet the buffalo people would not break the circle around the white calf,\nand for many minutes no Red man could penetrate it.\n\nAt last old Zuya, a warrior of note, came swiftly to the front upon his\nwar-steed. He held high above his head a blazing torch, and the\npanic-stricken bison fled before him in every direction. Close behind\nhim came Zuya's young son, Unspeshnee, with a long lariat coiled in his\nhand, and the two followed hard upon the fleeing buffalo people.\n\n\"Wa-wa-wa-wa!\" came forth from hundreds of throats, like the rolling of\nmany stones upon new ice. \"Unspeshnee! Unspeshnee has lassoed the\nbuffalo chief woman!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAmid a great gathering of curious people stood the white calf, wailing\ncontinually, and a solemn rejoicing pervaded the camp of the Red\nhunters. Already the ceremonies were in progress to celebrate this\nevent.\n\n\"It is the will of the Great Mystery,\" said they, \"to recall the spirit\nof the white chief. We shall preserve her robe, the token of plenty and\ngood-fortune! We shall never be hungry henceforth for the flesh of her\nnation. This robe shall be handed down from generation to generation,\nand wherever it is found there shall be abundance of meat for the\nIndian.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Sky Warrior\n\n\nThe all-night rain had ceased, and daylight appeared once more over the\neastern buttes. Hooyah looked about her, anxiously scanning the gray\ndusk of morning for a glimpse of her mate, the while she spread her long\npinions over three rollicking and mischievous youngsters as any eagle\nwoman ever brooded. Her piercing gaze was directed oftenest toward the\nlone pine--his favorite sleeping-tree. Surely it was time for him to\ncall her out on the usual morning hunt.\n\nThe Eagle's Nest butte was well known to the wild hunters of that\nregion, since it could be seen from a great distance and by many\napproaches. Its overhanging sides were all but inaccessible, and from\nthe level summit could be discerned all the landmarks of the Bad Lands\nin a circuit of seventy-five miles. The course of the Makezeta, the\nSmoking Earth River, lay unrolled like a map beneath that eyrie. Hither\nthe bighorn, the grizzly, and others of the animal tribes had from time\nto time betaken themselves, some seeking a night's refuge and others a\npermanent dwelling-place. For many years, however, it had been well\nunderstood that this was the chosen home of Wambelee, the eagle, whom it\nis not well to molest.\n\nDoubtless there have been tragedies enacted upon this imposing summit.\nThere is even a tradition among the wild Red men that the supremacy upon\nold Eagle's Nest has cost many lives, and for this reason it is held to\nbe a mysterious and hallowed place. Certainly the tribes of Wild Land\nhad cause to desire and even to fight for its possession.\n\nSuddenly there came to Hooyah's ears the whirring sound that announced\nthe near approach of her master. In the wink of an eye he was at her\nside.\n\n\"Quick, quick! We must be off! I have found a doe with two small fawns.\nI could have taken one fawn, but we shall have more meat if you are\nthere to take the other,\" he signalled to her.\n\nHooyah simply stepped aside and stretched herself thoroughly, as if to\nsay, \"Go, and I will follow.\"\n\nWambelee arose clumsily at the start, but as he gained in speed and\nbalance he floated away in mid-air like a mystic cloud. Hooyah followed\nwithin hailing distance, and they kept the same relative positions until\nthey reached Fishtail Gulch. It is well known to the Red hunters that\nsuch is the custom of the bear, coyote, eagle, raven and gray wolf,\nexcept when they travel in bands. The rule is a good one, since the\nsought-for prey is less likely to take alarm when only one hunter is in\nsight, and then, in case of flight, the second pursuer, who is\ninvisible, may have a better chance to make the capture, especially\nshould the fleeing one double on his track. He is certain to be\nbewildered and disheartened by the sudden, unexpected reinforcement of\nthe foe.\n\nWambelee swung up on one of the adjacent buttes to spy out possible\ndanger, while his mate was balancing herself away up in the ether, just\nover the black-tail mother with her twin fawns. Suddenly he arose in a\nlong spiral and ascended to the height of Hooyah, and there the two\nplotted their assault upon the innocents, at the same time viewing the\nsecret movements of every other hunter.\n\nIt is the accepted usage of Wild Land that no one may wisely leave his\ntracks uncovered while he himself is on the trail of another, for many\nhave been seized while enjoying the prize. Even the lordly eagle has\nbeen caught by the wolf, the wild-cat, or by the wild man while\nfeasting, and in his gluttony has become an easy prey to the least of\nhunters. Therefore it behooved Wambelee to be watchful and very\ncautious.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Ho, Opagela, koowah yay yo-o-o!\" This was the call of Matoska, a famous\nhunter of the Sioux, at the door of his friend's lodge in the camp on\nthe Smoking Earth River. \"Come out, friend; it is almost day and my\ndream has been good. The game is plentiful; but you will need to be on\nyour guard, for the tracks of the grizzly hereabout are as many as I\nhave ever seen the Ojibway trails.\"\n\n\"Hun, hun, hay!\" exclaimed the other, good-humoredly, as he pushed\naside the triangular door-flap and appeared wrapped in his blanket. \"It\nis always thus. When the hunting is poor, you will not be disturbed, but\nwhen you are in a region of much game, all other hunters are there as\nwell! It is true that they are usually agreeable except two only--Mato,\nthe grizzly, and man himself. These two are always looking for trouble!\"\n\nOpagela was likewise noted for his skill in hunting, and especially for\nthe number of eagles that he had caught. This good-fortune had gained\nhim many ponies, for eagles' feathers are always in demand. Few men so\nwell understand the secrets of this bird. His friend was doubtless\nexpert in wood-craft, but in this particular he could not claim to be\nthe equal of Opagela.\n\n\"Come, let us hasten! We must be off before any other wild hunter can\ngain the advantage. We shall appear foolish to them if we are seen\nrunning about in full view,\" Matoska continued, as he adjusted the\nthongs of his moccasins.\n\nBoth men soon disappeared in the gray mists of the morning. They ran\nnoiselessly side by side, scarcely uttering a word, up and along the\nbluffs of the Smoking Earth River. They could see the white vapor or\nbreath of the bison hanging in the air at a distance, and black masses\nof the animals were visible here and there upon the plains. But they did\nnot turn aside, for they were in search of other game. The Eagle's Nest\nbutte loomed up to their right, its bare walls towering grandly above\nthe surrounding country, and the big timber lay hidden below in the fog\nthat still clung about the river.\n\n\"Ho!\" Opagela exclaimed, presently, to his companion, in an undertone.\n\"There is a hunter from above descending.\"\n\nBoth stood still in their tracks like petrified men. \"Whir-r-r!\" came\nlike the sound of a coming shower.\n\n\"Ugh, it is he!\" Opagela said again, in a whisper, and made a motion\nwith his lips.\n\nAs the great bird, the giant hunter of the air, swooped down into the\ngulch, a doe fled forth from it and ran swiftly over the little divide.\nThere was bawling and the sound of struggle just over the banks of the\ncreek, where the eagle had disappeared.\n\n\"Run, friend, run! Let us see him use his knife upon the fawn,\" urged\nMatoska, and he started over the knoll at a good gait. The other\nfollowed as if reluctantly.\n\nThe little gulch was a natural enclosure formed by a sudden turn of the\ncreek, and fenced with a thorny thicket of wild plum and buffalo-berry\nbushes. Here they saw Wambelee in the open, firmly fastened upon the\nback of a struggling fawn. Hooyah had missed her quarry, which took\nrefuge in the plum grove.\n\n\"Shoot! shoot!\" whispered Matoska, at the same time drawing forth an\narrow.\n\n\"No, no; I recognize friends. This is the old pair who have dwelt for\nmany years upon the Eagle's Nest butte.\" There was a serious expression\nupon the hunter's face as he spoke.\n\nAt this moment the eagle turned toward them. From his neck hung a single\nbear's claw, fastened by a leather thong.\n\n\"Yes, it is he. Long ago he saved my life, and we are friends. I shall\ntell you about it,\" Opagela said at last, and the two friends sat down\nside by side at the edge of the plum-bushes.\n\n\"Many winters ago,\" began Opagela, \"I was shot through the knee in a\nbattle with the Utes, a little west of the Black Hills. My friends\ncarried me with them as far as the creek which is now called the Wounded\nKnee, and there we were overtaken by a Crow war-party. Our party had a\nrunning fight with them and were compelled to retreat in haste. I begged\nmy friends to leave me on the trail, for I preferred to die fighting\nrather than from the effects of my wound. They did so, but before they\nreached me the Crow warriors withdrew.\n\n\"There I lay without food or water for four days. I was all skin and\nbones. My thoughts were already in the spirit land, and I seemed to see\nabout me my relatives who had died.\n\n\"One morning my mind was clear, and once more I realized my\nsurroundings. I had crawled into the shade of a little grove of\nplum-bushes. I gazed out upon the lofty buttes and the plains between\nwhere we had so often camped in happiness and plenty. It seemed hard to\nstarve in the midst of such abundance.\n\n\"A few paces away I saw a doe with two fawns. They were fat and\ntempting, but I had no strength to shoot. Then I felt that I was doomed\nto die, and, indeed, believed that I was already half spirit and could\ntalk with spirits. I held out my hand to the Great Mystery and said:\n\n\"Is this the end? Then, Great Father, I am resigned. Let none disturb\nme, for I would die in peace.\n\n\"At this moment the doe snorted and sprang directly over me. Alas! one\nof her little ones was caught before it could plunge into the thicket.\nIt was seized by an immense eagle.\n\n\"The pretty little creature screamed and bawled like a baby, and my\nheart was with her in her death-pangs, although I was perishing for\nmeat. I lay quite still and breathed softly. I slyly closed my eyes when\nthe eagle seemed about to look in my direction. He appeared to be a very\nwarlike, full-grown bird, with splendid plumage.\n\n\"He dressed his meat a few paces from me. I could smell the rich odor of\nthe savory venison, and it made me desperate. I wanted to live now. But\nit was his game. I was a wounded, helpless, dying man--he a strong,\nwarlike hunter. I could only beg a piece of his meat, but it was not\nthe time for me to do so until he had eaten his fill.\n\n\"The zest with which he partook of his meal made me chew while he tore\noff pieces of the meat, and swallow whenever he swallowed a savory\nmorsel. At last I could not endure it any longer.\n\n\"'Ho, kola!' I said, feebly.\n\n\"The sky warrior lifted his noble head with the mien of a great chief.\nAt first he did not discover where the voice came from, but,\nnevertheless, he made a show of indignation and surprise.\n\n\"Again I said, almost in a whisper, 'Ho, kola, it is time you should\ncheer a dying warrior's heart.'\n\n\"He saw me. 'Hush-h-h!' he sighed, and released his great talons from\nthe body of the fawn.\n\n\"My mind was clear now, and the sight of meat seemed to give me\nstrength. I took my long knife in one hand and my war-club in the other,\nand I rose and hopped towards him. He tried to fly, but could not. This\nis his greatest weakness--that when he kills big game he surfeits\nhimself and is sometimes unable to fly for half a day or longer. As the\neagle is not a good walker, he could not get away from me. All his\ndignity disappeared. Helpless as a woman, he lay before me with\noutstretched wings.\n\n\"I had no wish to harm him who had preserved my life. I lassoed him with\nmy lariat and fastened him to a plum-tree while I ate of the meat. It\nwas tender and luscious, and my strength returned to me even as I ate.\n\n\"I could not walk, so Wambelee and I camped together, for I did not care\nto be alone. Little by little we became friends. On the second day his\nwife came in search of him. When she found him a captive she scolded\nviolently, perhaps him alone, perhaps me, or both of us.\n\n\"The next time she came prepared to make war upon me in order to release\nher husband. She appeared high up, floating among the clouds; then\nsuddenly gave a scream, woman-like, and shot down with all the\nfierceness of a warrior, coming directly toward me.\n\n\"I was getting strong now, and I shook my bow over my head at her. Then\nshe swung upward within a few bows' length, so that I could feel the\nwind of her attack.\n\n\"After she had done this several times, she perched upon a near-by\nbutte and watched. She did everything in her power to make her captive\nhusband's heart strong. Now and then she would sail slowly over our\nheads, coaxing, scolding, and apparently having a loving, conjugal talk\nwith him.\n\n\"At last I sat beside her mate and gave him some meat, which he took\nfrom my hand. She saw this feast of two warrior-friends, and came within\na few paces of us. I threw her a piece of the venison, which she took,\nand ate of it.\n\n\"Our meat was now gone, and we moved nearer to the stream. I awoke early\nin the morning. Wambelee was uneasy, and stared continually into the\ngray dusk. I looked in the same direction, and I saw four black-tail\ndeer approaching the water to drink. I had tied one end of Wambelee's\nlariat to a young sapling, and let him sit by me, concealed under the\nbushes. He had a long lariat. When the deer were almost upon us, I took\nmy sharpest arrow and shot the buck deer. At the same time Wambelee\nsecured a fawn. Now we were rich, for we had all the meat we wanted!\n\n\"When we first moved our camp, the eagle woman did not like it, because\nshe did not understand. But again she came every day and got rations for\nherself and her eaglets on the nest. It was a day's run for a warrior\nfrom the Eagle's Nest butte to the place where we were upon the Wounded\nKnee.\n\n\"I was now strong and able to walk a short distance. Wambelee and Hooyah\nhad become my good friends. They feared me no longer. One day I said to\nhim:\n\n\"'My friend, you have saved my life. I am strong again, and I shall\nreturn to my people. You also must go back to your children. I have\nthree in my lodge, and you should have as many. See, I will give you a\nnecklace--a brave's necklace--before you go.'\n\n\"I took one claw from my necklace of bears' claws, and tied it about his\nneck with a leather thong. I also cut a little figure of a man out of a\ndeer's hoof, and tied it to the eagle woman's neck.\n\n\"'You have been a faithful and brave wife to my friend Wambelee,' I said\nto her. 'You shall have this for a token from his friend.'\n\n\"Then I released Wambelee. He stepped aside, but showed no sign of\ngoing. The eagle woman simply busied herself with cutting out a piece\nof venison to take to her hungry children.\n\n\"'I see that you are true friends. I will take two feathers from each of\nyou,' I said.\n\n\"I took two feathers from each and stuck them in my head. The eagle\nwoman rose with the meat, but Wambelee still stood by me. I said, 'Go,\nfriend, it is time,' and reluctantly he rose and followed her.\n\n\"When they had left me it was lonely, and I could not stay. I took my\nlariat and my weapons and walked slowly up the creek, which was then\ncalled Blacktail Creek. From that day it has been known as the Wounded\nKnee.\n\n\"Before sunset, Wambelee came back to see where I was. I was compelled\nto travel very slowly, and they watched and followed me from day to day\nuntil I reached home. There I was as one returned from the dead.\n\n\"Nor is this all. In my journeyings these two have many times come near\nme. I have a signal-call for them, and they have one for me. They have\nbeen my guide to game, and I have shared my game with them.\"\n\nOpagela thus ended his story. Matoska had listened with an attentive\near and a respect that bordered upon reverence.\n\n\"It is well, friend,\" he said, finally, with marked significance.\n\nThe two old eagles had busied themselves meanwhile with their game,\neating a part and preparing part to take to their children. They now\nshowed signs of age. Their coats were of a brownish color, and their\ntail-feathers creamy white.\n\nOpagela filled his pipe and held it toward them in token of his good\nwishes. Then he offered it to his companion.\n\n\"We shall smoke,\" he said, \"to their long life and success in hunting.\"\nMatoska silently nodded assent.\n\n\"And how is it, friend, that you kill so many eagles?\" he asked, at\nlast.\n\n\"I have never killed one,\" said Opagela. \"I have caught many, but\nwithout harm to them. I take several of the tail-feathers and let them\ngo. Because I have always many eagle feathers, the warriors think that I\nkill them.\n\n\"Sinkpay both captures and kills them,\" he continued. \"He makes a fish\nout of a water-soaked log. He whittles it to the shape of a fish, puts\na weight on it, and ties it to a long rope which he holds from the shore\nof a certain lake. You know the eagle is a good fisherman, and when he\nsees from a great height the make-believe fish of Sinkpay, he drops down\nvery swiftly and buries his claws deeply in the spongy wood. Then\nSinkpay pulls this wooden fish to shore with the eagle clinging to it,\nbecause he cannot pull out his long, crooked talons. Always his greed is\nhis destruction,\" concluded the hunter.\n\n\"And how do you catch yours?\" quoth Matoska.\n\n\"Upon a hill frequented by eagles, I dig a hole and lie in it, covered\nwith brush, and holding up a freshly killed rabbit. The eagle sees the\nrabbit a great way off, and he will immediately shoot down and seize it.\nI catch him by the leg and pull him down into the hole. There I tie his\nfeet and pull out several of his tail-feathers.\n\n\"You will never catch an eagle twice with the same trick. My old friends\nknow all about it, and delight to play with me by tearing the skin of\nthe bait while hovering out of reach.\"\n\n\"And how do you recognize those two old eagles?\" again asked Matoska.\n\n\"I know them as well as you know one man from another. You cannot doubt\nme, for you see their necklaces.\n\n\"I have kept this matter sacred and secret for many years. It is not\nwell to talk of the favors of the Great Mystery. But you have seen my\nfriend the sky warrior and his wife, therefore I told it to you. You\nwill not speak of it?\" the old hunter asked his friend, who nodded\ngravely. The two old eagles, laden with their prey, flew heavily away in\nthe direction of the Eagle's Nest.\n\n\n\n\nA Founder of Ten Towns\n\n\nUpon a grassy plateau, overlooking the flats of the Owl River, was\nspread out Pezpeza's town. The borders of the table-land were defined by\nthe river's bed, and it was sufficiently high for the little inhabitants\nto command the valley both up and down for a considerable distance.\nShungela Pahah, or Fox Ridge, stretched upward on the horizon, and the\nrough country back of it formed many ravines and gulches for the\nsolitary habitations of wolves and foxes.\n\nNo prettier site could be imagined for a town of the prairie-dog people,\namong whom there is no more enterprising frontiersman than Pezpeza.\nAlthough it was situated in plain view of one of the large summer camps\nof the wild Sioux, the little people had been left unmolested. The wild\nmen lived then in the midst of the greatest game region of the Dakotas,\nand, besides, they had always looked upon the little mound-builders as\nhaving once been real people like themselves.\n\nAll over the plateau, which was semicircular in form, were scattered\nhundreds of mounds, and on that particular morning, when the early Sioux\nhunter rode by upon his favorite pony, every house was alive with the\ninhabitants. Upon the mounds of the old deserted houses stood the\nfaithful and good neighbor, Pezpeza ta ayanpahalah, Pezpeza's herald,\nthe owl; for if any house is left vacant, he immediately occupies it.\nHere and there, upon a sun-baked mound, lay coiled the other neighbor,\nSintayhadah, the rattlesnake.\n\nThe herald had announced the coming of the wild Red man upon his hunting\npony; therefore every prairie-dog had repaired to the top of the mound\nbeside his dwelling. Some stood upon their hind-legs, that they might\nbetter see for themselves the approaching danger, and from this place of\nsafety they all shrilly scolded the intruders; while the little herald,\nwho had done his duty and once more fulfilled his unspoken contract\nwith his hosts to be their scout and crier, perched calmly upon a\nchosen mound and made his observations.\n\nIn the middle of the town, upon a large mound, there stood an unusually\nlarge dog. When the warning was given, he had slowly dragged himself\noutside. His short, thick fur was much yellower than that of the others,\na sign of advancing age; and while the citizens were noisy in their\nprotests, he alone was silent. It was Pezpeza, the founder of this town\nand of many another, the experienced traveller. His old friend, the\nfaithful herald, who had just given warning, perched not far away. These\ntwo had journeyed together and shared each other's hardships, but\nPezpeza was the prime mover in it all, and there was none wiser than he\namong his people.\n\nPezpeza's biographer and interpreter tells thus of his wonderful\nfrontier life and adventures.\n\nPezpeza was one of many children of an old couple who lived upon the\nMissouri River bottoms. He had learned while yet small that the little\nprairie-owl was their very good neighbor and friend. He had repaired\nand occupied one of their abandoned houses. It was generally understood\nby the little mound-builders that this quiet, unassuming bird notifies\nthem of approaching danger; and, having no bad habits, the prairie-dogs\nhad tacitly accepted them as desirable and useful townsfolk. The owl,\nfor his part, finds a more convenient home and better food in the towns\nthan he could possibly find elsewhere, for there are plants peculiar to\nthe situation which attract certain insects, mice, and birds, and these\nin turn furnish food for the owls.\n\nTheir common neighbor, the rattlesnake, lay at times under a strong\nsuspicion of treachery, and was not liked any too well by the other two.\nHowever, the canny and cold-hearted snake had proved his usefulness\nbeyond any doubt, and was accepted under strict and well-understood\nconditions. He was like the negro in the South--he was permitted to\ndwell in the same town, but he must not associate with the other two\nupon equal terms. It is clear that the dog and the owl together could\nwhip and terrorize the snake and force him to leave the premises at any\ntime if they felt so disposed, but there is a sufficient reason for\nallowing him to remain. The wolf, coyote, fox, swift, and badger, all\nenemies of the little mound-builders, will not linger long in the\nneighborhood of rattlesnakes, and this is equally true of the Red\nhunter. The coyote and badger could easily lie flat behind the mound and\nspring upon the prairie-dog when he comes out of his hole. The Sioux boy\ncould do the same with his horse-hair noose. But these wild hunters,\nwith full knowledge of the deadly rattlesnake, dare not expose\nthemselves in such a fashion. The snake, on his side, gets his food much\neasier there than anywhere else, since all kinds of small birds come\nthere for seeds. Further, his greatest enemies are certain large birds\nwhich do not fear his poison, but swoop down, seize him, and eat him in\nmid-air. From this danger he is safer in a dog-town than elsewhere,\nowing to the multitude of holes, which are ingeniously dug upward and\noff at one side from the main burrow, and are much better than the snake\ncan provide for himself.\n\nPezpeza was like all the young people of his tribe. He loved play, but\nnever played with the snake young people--on the contrary, he would\nstand at a safe distance and upbraid them until they retired from his\npremises. It was not so with the children of the little herald, the owl.\nIn fact, he had played with them ever since he could remember, and the\nattachment between them became permanent. Wherever Pezpeza goes, the\nlittle owl always comes and sits near-by upon some convenient mound. If\nany hawk is in sight, and if he should see it first, he would at once\ngive the warning and Pezpeza would run for his house.\n\nEvery day some prairie-dog left the town in quest of a new home. The\nchief reason for this is over-population--hence, scarcity of food; for\nthe ground does not yield a sufficient quantity for so many.\n\nOne morning, as he was coming out of their house, Pezpeza found his\nfather lying dead within the entrance. At first he would not go by, but\nat last he left the house, as did the rest of the family. None returned\nto their old home. The mother and children built a new house on the edge\nof the town, dangerously near a creek, and the old homestead was after\nthat owned by a large rattlesnake family who had always loafed about\nthe place. The new home was a good one, and the new ground yielded an\nabundant crop, but they were harassed by the wolves and wild-cats,\nbecause they were near the creek and within easy approach.\n\nPezpeza was out feeding one morning with a brother when all at once the\nowl gave the warning. They both ran for the house, and Pezpeza got in\nsafe, but his brother was carried off by a wolf.\n\nWhen he came out again, the place was not like what it used to be to\nhim. He had a desire to go somewhere else, and off he started without\ntelling any one. He followed an old buffalo-trail which lay over the\nplain and up the Owl River.\n\nThe river wound about among the hills and between deeply cut banks,\nforming wide bottom-lands, well timbered with cottonwoods. It was a warm\nday of blue haze in the early spring, and Pezpeza ran along in excellent\nspirits. Suddenly a warning screech came from behind, and he lay flat,\nimmovable, upon the path. Ah, it is his friend the young herald, the owl\nplaymate! The owl had seen his young friend run away over the prairie,\nso he flew to join him, giving no thought to his people or his own\naffairs.\n\nThe herald flew ahead and perched upon a convenient mound until his\nfriend came up; then he went ahead again. Thus the two travelled over\nthe plain until they came to a point where many buffalo skulls lay\nscattered over the ground. Here, some years before, the Red men had\nannihilated a herd of buffalo in a great hunt.\n\nAs usual, the herald flew ahead and took up his position upon a buffalo\nskull which lay nose downward. The skull was now bleached white, but the\nblack horns were still attached to it. The herald sat between these\nhorns.\n\nMeanwhile Pezpeza was coming along the buffalo-path at a fairly good\nspeed. Again he heard the danger-call and ran for the nearest skull to\nhide. He was glad to find that the thin bones of the nose were gone, so\nthat he could easily enter it. He was not any too quick in finding a\nrefuge, for a large eagle swooped down with a rush and sat by the skull.\nPezpeza had crouched in the inner cavity, and when he was discovered he\nmade a great show of indignation and fight. But the eagle, having made a\ncareful study of the position of his intended victim, finally flew away,\nand in due time Pezpeza proceeded on his journey.\n\nHe did not go far, but when he had found a level, grassy plateau,\ncommanding all the approaches, he began without delay to dig a home for\nhimself, for he is not safe a moment without a home. The herald sat a\nlittle way off upon a stray bowlder, and occasionally he would fly out\nfor a short distance and then return.\n\nThe sun hovered over Fox Ridge, and long columns of shadow were cast by\nthe hills. Pezpeza, weary with his journey and the work of digging a\nhome at least deep enough for a night's occupancy, had laid himself away\nin it to sleep. The herald, as usual, constituted himself a night-watch,\nand perched upon the newly made mound. There he sat with his head sunk\ndeep in his soft feathers.\n\nNo sooner had the sun set in the west than the full moon appeared in the\neast, but the owl still sat motionless. He did not move even when a gray\nwolf came trotting along the buffalo-trail. When he came opposite the\nmound he stopped and held his muzzle low. At last he cautiously\nadvanced, and when he was dangerously near the owl flew away and the\nwolf rushed upon the mound, and stood for a while peering into the hole.\n\nIt was now the herald's turn to annoy. It is true he cannot do anything\nmore than bluff, but he is skilled in that. Especially at night, his\ngleaming eyes and the snapping of his bill, together with his\npretentious swoop, make even the gray wolf nervous, and it was not long\nbefore he had decided to go farther.\n\nThe next morning the enterprising town-builder earnestly went about\ncompleting his home, although one could see only the little mound and\nthe cup-shaped entrance--all else was deep underground. Every day there\nwere arrivals, singly or in couples, and now and then a whole family.\nNearly all brought their heralds with them, and these, likewise, came\nsingly or in pairs. Immediately, each couple would go to work to prepare\na dwelling for themselves, for they are not safe without them, and,\nbesides, they seem to believe in independent homes. Thus in one moon\nthe town became a respectably large one.\n\nShunkmanitoo, the wolf, had many a time trotted over the plateau and\nseen either a lone buffalo bull grazing or lying down chewing his cud,\nor an antelope standing cautiously in the middle that he might better\nsee the approach of any danger. Now, after a few days' absence, he found\na flourishing village, and one by no means devoid of interest and\nattraction.\n\nEvery bright day the little people played \"catch-the-laugh.\" It is so\ncalled by the Red people. When all were outside their houses, one would\njump into the air and make a peculiar sound, half squeak and half growl.\nThe nearest one would take it up, and so on throughout the village. All\nwould rise on their hind-feet and bob up and down, at the same time\ngiving the peculiar cry. This performance they repeat whenever they are\nhappy.\n\nPezpeza's town was now quite populous. But he was not the mayor; he did\nnot get any credit for the founding of the town; at least as far as the\nRed people could observe. Their life and government seemed to be highly\ndemocratic. Usually the concentration of population produced a certain\nweed which provided abundance of food for them. But under some\nconditions it will not grow; and in that case, as soon as the native\nbuffalo-grass is eaten up the town is threatened with a famine, and the\ninhabitants are compelled to seek food at a distance from their houses.\nThis is quite opposed to the habit and safety of the helpless little\npeople. Finally the only alternative will be the desertion of the town.\n\nThus it happened that Pezpeza, when the buffalo-grass was all gone about\nhis place, began to realize the necessity of finding a new home. The\nground was not adapted to the crop that generally grew in a prairie-dog\ntown. One morning he was compelled to go beyond the limits of the\nvillage to get his breakfast, and all at once the thought of going off\nin search of a good town-site seized him strongly. He consulted no one,\nnot even his best friend, the owl. He simply ran away up the river.\n\nThe buffalo-trails were many and well beaten. He followed one of\nthem--he knew not whither. The herald soon discovered his departure and\nagain followed his friend. Pezpeza was glad to see him fly past and take\nthe lead, as usual.\n\nThe trail now led them to the brow of the table-land. Below them, along\nthe river-bottoms, great herds of buffalo grazed among the shady\ncottonwood groves, and the path led down the slope. It was safer for the\nlittle town-maker to get among the big, burly bison, for the wolf does\nnot go among them at such times. It is usually just beyond the herd that\nhe peeps from behind the hills, watching for a chance to attack an\nisolated cow.\n\nThe buffalo did not pay any attention to the little fellow running on\nthe trail and almost under their feet. They even allowed the herald to\nperch upon an old bull's back in order to keep within sight of his\nfriend. Through the great herd the two proceeded. It was hot, and the\ngrass was all eaten off close to the ground. There was no food for the\nlittle traveller.\n\nHe had descried a fair plateau on the opposite side of the Owl River as\nhe came down the hill, and his mind was fixed upon this land. He was\nheading for the river, but found himself much hampered by the\nincreasing number of the buffalo.\n\nAt the edge of the bank which marked the old bed of the stream Pezpeza\ncame to a stand-still. Here the trail entered the woods and the bison\nfollowed it in single file. As they skirted the bank they passed so near\nhim that their broad backs were almost within his reach, and some of\nthem stopped for a moment to rub themselves against its steep sides.\nFinally there came an old bull with horns worn almost to the skull. He\nstopped just below Pezpeza and dug his stumpy horn into the earth wall,\nand Pezpeza sprang gently upon his back and flattened himself out as\nthin as he could.\n\nThe bull did not suspect that anything unusual had happened. He supposed\nthat what he felt was merely a lump of dirt that he had loosened with\nhis horns, and off he walked quite unconcernedly on the trail towards\nthe river. Many of his people were already crossing, and he followed\nthem. The herald was perched upon the back of another bull, and so the\npair crossed the Owl River.\n\nThere was a broad meadow-land through which the trail led up on the\nother side until it lost itself in a sage-bush plain. Here the bison\nscattered to graze, and many followed the ravines for better grass.\nPezpeza let himself slide from the bull's back, who gave a jump and a\nsnort, but it was too late to enter a protest.\n\nThe little town-builder now began his work as faithfully as before, and\nsoon founded another large town. But again the misfortunes of life\ncompelled him and his friend to leave the place. Thus they travelled up\nthe river, now upon one side and now the other, and never more than a\nday's journey. More than once Pezpeza found a mate, and he raised many a\nfamily; but, like a true pioneer, he could never remain long in an old\nand overcrowded town.\n\nHis tenth and last home was the beautiful table-land at the junction of\nOwl River with Lost Creek. As has been described in the beginning, it\nwas a semicircular plain of large extent and commanded a striking view.\nAt the very head of the embankment, which sloped abruptly down to the\nriver level, there stood a number of large grassy mounds, and among them\nwere several peculiar structures composed of poles placed upright in\nthe ground with others arranged horizontally so as to form a sort of\nshelter.\n\nThe town-maker gave no serious thought to these things. The grass upon\nthe plateau was excellent, and he set to work at once, selecting a site\nfor his home near the centre of the plain, for greater safety. Every day\nnew-comers came, and it was a source of satisfaction to him that his\nselection was such as every prairie-dog could not but approve. In a few\ndays the town was fairly started.\n\nThere arrived one day a family who took up their claim close by\nPezpeza's place. In this family there was a pretty maid, according to\nPezpeza's notion and fancy. There was no reason why he should not think\nso, for he was now a widower, a wolf having carried off his faithful\nmate of several years' standing. It was soon noticed by the other little\npeople that the pretty maid with garments the color of the buffalo-grass\nin autumn had gone to live with Pezpeza.\n\nPezpeza's town was now a place of respectable size, well known in all\nthat region. The coyote and gray wolf knew it well; the Red man also,\nfor, as I said in the beginning, their favorite summer camp was not far\naway, and there they were wont to dance the \"sun dance\" at every\nmidsummer.\n\nAt times the Red men were seen to come and roam, singing, around the\nlarge mounds and the curious scaffolds, and before they went away they\nwould place one of their number upon a new scaffold or heap another\nmound. Still the little people gave no thought to these strange actions.\n\nMany, many of their tribe came from all directions, until Pezpeza's town\nmight almost be called a city. Many children were born there. The\nplateau was alive with the little mound-builders, who constantly built\ntheir homes farther and farther out, till at last some had built right\nunder the Red men's scaffolds and hard by the large mounds, which were\nthe graves of their dead.\n\nPezpeza's ground did not yield its usual crop any more. His children\nwere all grown and had homes of their own. For some reason he did not\ncare to go far away, so the old folks simply moved out to the edge of\nthe town.\n\nPezpeza was now old and very large and fat. Never had he known for so\nlong a time a happy home as in the town upon the \"scaffold plain,\" as\nthe place was called by the Red people. When they came to visit the\ngraves of their dead they had never troubled the little mound-builders,\ntherefore the old founder of many towns did not think of danger when he\nbuilt very near to one of the scaffolds, and there were others who did\nthe same.\n\nOn a bright autumn morning, early risers among the little people saw one\nof the Red men standing under a newly built scaffold and wailing loudly.\nHe was naked and painted black. Many of the young people of the town\nbarked at him as he stood there in their midst, and some of the young\nheralds, disturbed by the noise of his wailing, flew about and alighted\nupon the scaffolds. When he ceased mourning, he turned about and talked\nlong at the little people and then went away.\n\nThe angry mourner reported at the great camp that the prairie-dogs and\ntheir owls were desecrating the graves, and it was time that they should\nbe driven away. A council was held, and the next day the Red men came\nwith their dogs and killed many. Their arrows pinned many of them to the\nground before they could dodge into their holes. Then they scattered\nall over the town and remained there, so that none dared to come out.\nThe owls were shot or driven away, and the Red men killed every\nrattlesnake that they found. It was an awful time! During the night many\nof the little people went away, deserting their homes.\n\nThe next day the same thing happened again, and the Red men even stopped\nup the entrances to many of the houses with round stones. Again in the\nnight many of the little mound-builders left the town.\n\nOn the third day they came and set fire to the plain. After that, in the\nnight, all the remaining population abandoned the town, except only\nPezpeza. All this time the founder of the ten towns had remained\nin-doors. He was old and reluctant to move. At last he emerged with his\nmate. An awful sight met their eyes. On the blackened plain not one of\nthe great population could be seen. Not one of their many children and\ngrandchildren was there to greet them or to play at \"catch-the-laugh\"!\n\nAs soon as they dared the two old people sought food under the\nscaffolds, where the grass was not burned. Two Red men arose from\nbehind a grave and let their arrows fly. Alas! the aged leader of the\nmound-builders was pinned to the ground. His mate barely escaped a\nsimilar fate, for the other missed.\n\nThe herald saw everything that had happened. He took up his watch from\nthe centre of the ruined town. The sun went down, moonlight flooded the\nprairie, and he heard the evening call of the coyotes upon Fox Ridge. At\nlast he saw something moving--it was the widowed mate of his friend,\nrunning along the trail from the desolate town. He gave one last look\nabout him, then he silently rose and followed her.\n\n\n\n\nThe Gray Chieftain\n\n\nOn the westernmost verge of Cedar Butte stood Haykinshkah and his mate.\nThey looked steadily toward the setting sun, over a landscape which up\nto that time had scarcely been viewed by man--the inner circle of the\nBad Lands.\n\nCedar Butte guards the southernmost entrance to that wonderland,\nstanding fully a thousand feet above the surrounding country, and nearly\nhalf a mile long by a quarter of a mile wide. The summit is a level,\ngrassy plain, its edges heavily fringed with venerable cedars. To\nattempt the ascent of this butte is like trying to scale the walls of\nBabylon, for its sides are high and all but inaccessible. Near the top\nthere are hanging lands or terraces and innumerable precipitous points,\nwith here and there deep chimneys or abysses in the solid rock. There\nare many hidden recesses and more than one secret entrance to this\nancient castle of the gray chieftain and his ancestors, but to assail it\nsuccessfully requires more than common skill and spirit.\n\nMany a coyote had gone up as high as the second leaping-bridge and there\nabandoned the attempt. Old grizzly had once or twice begun the ascent\nwith doubt and misgiving, but soon discovered his mistake, and made\nclumsy haste to descend before he should tumble into an abyss from which\nno one ever returns. Only Igmutanka, the mountain-lion, had achieved the\nsummit, and at every ascent he had been well repaid; yet even he seldom\nchose to risk such a climb, when there were many fine hunting-grounds in\nsafer neighborhoods.\n\nSo it was that Cedar Butte had been the peaceful home of the big\nspoonhorns for untold ages. To be sure, some of the younger and more\nadventurous members of the clan would depart from time to time to found\na new family, but the wiser and more conservative were content to remain\nin their stronghold. There stood the two patriarchs, looking down\ncomplacently upon the herds of buffalo, antelope, and elk that peopled\nthe lower plains. While the sun hovered over the western hills, a coyote\nupon a near-by eminence gave his accustomed call to his mate. This\nserved as a signal to all the wild hunters of the plains to set up their\ninharmonious evening serenade, to which the herbivorous kindred paid but\nlittle attention. The phlegmatic spoonhorn pair listened to it all with\na fine air of indifference, like that of one who sits upon his own\nbalcony, superior to the passing noises of the street.\n\nIt was a charming moonlight night upon the cedar-fringed plain, and\nthere the old chief presently joined the others in feast and play. His\nmate sought out a secret resting-place. She followed the next gulch,\nwhich was a perfect labyrinth of caves and pockets, and after leaping\ntwo chasms she reached her favorite spot. Here the gulch made a square\nturn, affording a fine view of the country through a window-like\nopening. Above and below this were perpendicular walls, and at the\nbottom a small cavity, left by the root of a pine which had long since\nfallen and crumbled into dust. To this led a narrow terrace--so narrow\nthat man or beast would stop and hesitate long before venturing upon it.\nThe place was her own by right of daring and discovery, and the mother's\ninstinct had brought her here to-night, for the pangs of deadly sickness\nwere upon her.\n\nIn a little while relief came, and the ewe stood over a new-born lamb,\nlicking tenderly the damp, silky hair, and trimming the little hoofs of\ntheir cartilaginous points. The world was quiet now, and those whose\nbusiness it is to hunt or feed at night must do so in silence, for such\nis the law of the plains. The wearied mother slept in peace.\n\nThe sun was well above the butte when she awoke, although it was cool\nand shadowy still in her concealed abode. She gave suck to the lamb and\ncaressed it for some time before she reluctantly prepared its cradle,\naccording to the custom of her people. She made a little pocket in the\nside of the cave and gently put her baby in. Then she covered him all\nup, save the nose and eyes, with dry soil. She put her nose to his\nlittle sensitive ear and breathed into it warm love and caution, and he\nfelt and understood that he must keep his eyes closed and breathe\ngently, lest bear or wolf or man should spy him out when they had found\nher trail. Again she put her warm, loving nose to his eyes, then patted\na little more earth on his body and smoothed it off. The tachinchana\nclosed his eyes in obedience, and she left him for the plain above in\nsearch of food and sunlight.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt a little before dawn, two wild hunters left their camp and set out\nfor Cedar Butte. Their movements were marked by unusual care and\nsecrecy. Presently they hid their ponies in a deep ravine and groped\ntheir way up through the difficult Bad Lands, now and then pausing to\nlisten. The two were close friends and rival hunters of their tribe.\n\n\"I think, friend, you have mistaken the haunts of the spoonhorn,\"\nremarked Wacootay, as the pair came out upon one of the lower terraces.\nHe said this rather to test his friend, for it was their habit thus to\ncriticise and question each other's judgment, in order to extract from\neach other fresh observations. What the one did not know about the\nhabits of the animals they hunted in common the other could usually\nsupply.\n\n\"This is his home--I know it,\" replied Grayfoot. \"And in this thing the\nanimals are much like ourselves. They will not leave an old haunt unless\nforced to do so either by lack of food or overwhelming danger.\"\n\nThey had already passed on to the next terrace and leaped a deep chasm\nto gain the opposite side of the butte, when Grayfoot suddenly\nwhispered, \"In ahjin!\" (Stop!). Both men listened attentively. \"Tap,\ntap, tap,\" an almost metallic sound came to them from around the\nperpendicular wall of rock.\n\n\"He is chipping his horns!\" exclaimed the hunter, overjoyed to surprise\nthe chieftain at this his secret occupation. \"Poor beast, they are now\ntoo long for him, so that he cannot reach the short grass to feed. Some\nof them die starving, when they have not the strength to do the hard\nbucking against the rock to shorten their horns. He chooses this time,\nwhen he thinks no one will hear him, and he even leaves his own clan\nwhen it is necessary for him to do this. Come, let us crawl up on him\nunawares.\"\n\nThey proceeded cautiously and with cat-like steps around the next\nprojection, and stood upon a narrow strip of slanting terrace. At short\nintervals the pounding noise continued, but strain their eyes as they\nmight they could see nothing. Yet they knew that a few paces from them,\nin the darkness, the old ram was painfully driving his horns against the\nsolid rock. Finally they lay flat upon the ground under a dead cedar,\nthe color of whose trunk and that of the scanty soil somewhat resembled\ntheir clothing, and on their heads they had stuck some bunches of\nsage-bush, to conceal them from the eyes of the spoonhorn.\n\nWith the first gray of the approaching dawn the two hunters looked\neagerly about them. There stood, in all his majesty, heightened by the\nwild grandeur of his surroundings, the gray chieftain of the Cedar\nButte! He had no thought of being observed at that hour. Entirely\nunsuspicious of danger, he stood alone upon a pedestal-like terrace,\nfrom which vantage-point it was his wont to survey the surrounding\ncountry every morning. If the secret must be told, he had done so for\nyears, ever since he became the head chief of the Cedar Butte clan.\n\nIt is the custom of their tribe that when a ram attains the age of five\nyears he is entitled to a clan of his own, and thereafter must defend\nhis right and supremacy against all comers. His experience and knowledge\nare the guide of his clan. In view of all this, the gray chieftain had\nbeen very thorough in his observations. There was not an object anywhere\nnear the shape of bear, wolf, or man for miles around his kingdom that\nwas not noted, as well as the relative positions of rocks and\nconspicuous trees.\n\nThe best time for Haykinshkah to make his daily observations is at\nsunrise and sunset, when the air is usually clear and objects appear\ndistinct. Between these times the clan feed and settle down to chew\ntheir cud and sleep, yet some are always on the alert to catch a passing\nstranger within their field of observation. But the old chief spoonhorn\npays very little attention. His duty is done. He may be nestled in a\ngulch just big enough to hold him, either sound asleep or leisurely\nchewing his cud. The younger members of the clan take their position\nupon the upper terraces and under the shade of projecting rocks, after a\nwhole night's feasting and play upon the plain.\n\nAs spoonhorn stood motionless, looking away off toward the distant\nhills, the plain below appeared from this elevated point very smooth and\nsheetlike, and every moving object a mere speck. His form and color were\nnot very different from the dirty gray rocks and clay of the butte.\n\nWacootay broke the silence. \"I know of no animal that stands so long\nwithout movement, unless it is the turtle. I think he is the largest ram\nI have ever seen.\"\n\n\"I am sure he did not chip where he stands now,\" remarked Grayfoot.\n\"This chipping-place is a monastery to the priests of the spoonhorn\ntribe. It is their medicine-lodge. I have more than once approached the\nspot, but could never find the secret entrance.\"\n\n\"Shall I shoot him now?\" whispered his partner in the chase.\n\n\"No, do not do it. He is a real chief. He looks mysterious and noble.\nLet us know him better. Besides, if we kill him now we shall never see\nhim again. Look! he will fall to that deep gulch ten trees' length\nbelow, where no one can get at him.\"\n\nAs Grayfoot spoke the animal shifted his position, facing them squarely.\nThe two men closed their eyes and wrinkled their motionless faces into\nthe semblance of two lifeless mummies. The old sage of the mountains was\napparently deceived, but after a few moments he got down from his lofty\nposition and disappeared around a point of rock.\n\n\"I never care to shoot an animal while he is giving me a chance to know\nhis ways,\" explained Grayfoot. \"We have plenty of buffalo meat. We are\nnot hungry. All we want is spoons. We can get one or two sheep\nby-and-by, if we have more wit than they.\"\n\nTo this speech Wacootay agreed, for his curiosity was now fully aroused\nby Grayfoot's view, although he had never thought of it in just that way\nbefore. It had always been the desire for meat which had chiefly moved\nhim in the matter of the hunt.\n\nHaving readjusted their sage wigs, the hunters made the circuit of the\nabyss that divided them from the ram, and as they looked for his trail\nthey noticed the tracks of a large ewe leading down toward the\ninaccessible gulches.\n\n\"Ah, she has some secret down there! She never leaves her clan like this\nunless it is to steal away on a personal affair of her own.\"\n\nSo saying, Grayfoot with his fellow tracked the ewe's footprint along\nthe verge of a deep gulf with much trouble and patience. The hunter's\ncuriosity and a strong desire to know her secret impelled the former to\nlead the way.\n\n\"What will be our profit, if one slips and goes down into the gulch,\nnever to be seen again?\" remarked Wacootay, as they approached a\nleaping-place. The chasm below was of a great depth and dark. \"It is not\nwise for us to follow farther; this ewe has no horns that can be made\ninto spoons.\"\n\n\"Come, friend; it is when one is doubting that mishaps are apt to\noccur,\" urged his companion.\n\n\"Koda, heyu yo!\" exclaimed Wacootay, the next moment, in distress.\n\n\"Hehehe, koda! Hold fast!\" cried the other.\n\nWacootay's moccasined foot had slipped on the narrow trail, and in the\ntwinkling of an eye he had almost gone down a precipice of a hundred\nfeet; but with a desperate launch forward he caught the bough of an\noverhanging cedar and swung by his hands over the abyss.\n\nQuickly Grayfoot pulled both their bows from the quivers. He first tied\nhimself to the trunk of the cedar with his packing-strap, which always\nhung from his belt. Then he held both the bows toward his friend, who,\nnot without difficulty, changed his hold from the cedar bough to the\nbows. After a short but determined effort, the two men stood side by\nside once more upon the narrow foothold of the terrace. Without a word\nthey followed the ewe's track to the cave.\n\nHere she had lain last night. Both men began to search for other marks,\nbut they found not so much as a sign of scratching anywhere. They\nexamined the ground closely without any success. All at once a faint\n\"Ba-a-a!\" came from almost under their feet. They saw a puff of\nsmokelike dust as the little creature called for its mother. It had felt\nthe footsteps of the hunters and mistaken them for those of its own\nfolk.\n\nWacootay hastily dug into the place with his hands and found the soil\nloose. Soon he uncovered a little lamb. \"Ba-a-a!\" it cried again, and\nquick as a flash the ewe appeared, stamping the ground in wrath.\n\nWacootay seized an arrow and fitted it to the string, but his companion\nchecked him.\n\n\"No, no, my friend! It is not the skin or meat that we are looking for.\nWe want horn for ladles and spoons. The mother is right. We must let her\nbabe alone.\"\n\nThe wild hunters silently retreated, and the ewe ran swiftly to the spot\nand took her lamb away.\n\n\"So it is,\" said Grayfoot, after a long silence, \"all the tribes of\nearth have some common feeling. I believe they are people as much as we\nare. The Great Mystery has made them what they are. Although they do not\nspeak our tongue, we often seem to understand their thought. It is not\nright to take the life of any of them unless necessity compels us to do\nso.\n\n\"You know,\" he continued, \"the ewe conceals her lamb in this way until\nshe has trained it to escape from its enemies by leaping up or down from\nterrace to terrace. I have seen her teaching the yearlings and\ntwo-year-olds to dive down the face of a cliff which was fully twice the\nheight of a man. They strike on the head and the two fore-feet. The ram\nfalls largely upon his horns, which are curved in such a way as to\nprotect them from injury. The body rebounds slightly, and they get upon\ntheir feet as easily as if they had struck a pillow. At first the\nyearlings hesitate and almost lose their balance, but the mother makes\nthem repeat the performance until they have accomplished it to her\nsatisfaction.\n\n\"They are trained to leap chasms on all-fours, and finally the upward\njump, which is a more difficult feat. If the height is not great they\ncan clear it neatly, but if it is too high for that they will catch the\nrocky ledge with their fore-feet and pull themselves up like a man.\n\n\"In assisting their young to gain upper terraces they show much\ningenuity. I once saw them make a ladder of their bodies. The biggest\nram stood braced against the steep wall as high as his body could reach,\nhead placed between his fore-feet, while the next biggest one rode his\nhind parts, and so on until the little ones could walk upon their broad\nbacks to the top. We know that all animals make their young practise\nsuch feats as are necessary to their safety and advantage, and thus it\nis that these people are so well fitted to their peculiar mode of life.\n\n\"How often we are outwitted by the animals we hunt! The Great Mystery\ngives them this chance to save their lives by eluding the hunter, when\nthey have no weapons of defence. The ewe has seen us, and she has\ndoubtless warned all the clan of danger.\"\n\nBut there was one that she did not see. When the old chief left his clan\nto go to the secret place for chipping his horns, the place where many a\npast monarch of the Bad Lands has performed that painful operation, he\ndid not intend to rejoin them immediately. It was customary with him at\nthis time to seek solitude and sleep.\n\nThe two hunters found and carefully examined the tracks of the fleeing\nclan. The old ram was not among them. As they followed the trail along\nthe terrace, they came to a leaping-place which did not appear to be\ngenerally used. Grayfoot stopped and kneeled down to examine the ground\nbelow.\n\n\"Ho!\" he exclaimed; \"the old chief has gone down this trail but has not\nreturned. He is lying down near his chipping-place, if there is no other\noutlet.\"\n\nBoth men leaped to the next terrace below, and followed the secret pass\ninto a rocky amphitheatre, opening out from the terrace upon which they\nhad first seen the old ram. Here he lay asleep.\n\nWacootay pulled an arrow from his quiver.\n\n\"Yes,\" said his friend. \"Shoot now! A warrior is always a warrior--and\nwe are looking for horn for spoons.\"\n\nThe old chief awoke to behold the most dreaded hunter--man--upon the\nvery threshold of his sanctuary. Wildly he sprang upward to gain the top\nof the cliff; but Wacootay was expert and quick in the use of his\nweapon. He had sent into his side a shaft that was deadly. The monarch's\nfore-hoofs caught the edge--he struggled bravely for a moment, then fell\nlimp to the rocky floor.\n\n\"He is dead. My friend, the noblest of chiefs is dead!\" exclaimed\nGrayfoot, as he stood over him, in great admiration and respect for the\ngray chieftain.\n\n\n\n\nHootay of the Little Rosebud\n\n\nOn the south side of Scout Butte there is a crescent-shaped opening,\nwalled in by the curving sides of the hill. This little plain cannot be\nseen from the top of the butte. There is a terrace upon its brow on\nwhich a few scrub pines grow, so regularly that one would think them set\nthere by human hands. Half-way up the incline there stood at one time a\nlone cedar-tree, and at its foot there might have been discerned a flat,\nsoft mound. It consisted of earth thrown up from the diggings of a\ncavern. The wild people approaching from the south could see this mound,\nbut would scarcely note the entrance to the immense den hidden behind\nit. One coming down from the butte would not notice it, as there were no\nsigns other than the earth pile. The Little Rosebud River takes its rise\nat the threshold of this natural barricade.\n\nThis was the home of Hootay, the aged medicine-man of the Little Rosebud\ncountry. He was a fighter of many battles, this great and wise grizzly,\nwho was familiarly called Hootay, or Stubby Claws, by the Sioux hunters.\nThey had all known of him for many years. It was believed of him that he\nhad scalped not less than eight braves, and killed even more ponies and\ndogs. No less than three and ten times the Sioux had made expeditions\nagainst him, but each time they had failed. For this reason they\ndeclared that he had good war-medicine. Among the warriors it had long\nbeen understood that he who takes Hootay's scalp may wear a war-bonnet.\nThis acknowledgment of his prowess, of course, was not made known to the\naged yet still formidable bear.\n\nUp and down the Little Rosebud he had left his well-known imprint, for\nhe had lost two toes on one foot. Aside from the loss of his big claws,\nhe had received several arrow and knife wounds during his warlike\ncareer.\n\nEarly in the fall, Hootay had felt a severe aching of his old hurts. He\nhad eaten of every root-medicine that he knew, but there was no relief.\nInstinct led him to early retirement and hibernation.\n\nHis new home was a commodious one, well filled with dry grass and\npine-needles. It is the custom of his people to remain quiet until the\nspring, unless serious danger threatens. A series of heavy storms in\nearly winter had covered and concealed all his rakings of dry grass and\nother signs of his presence, therefore he thought himself secured from\nmolestation. There he lay most of the time in a deep sleep.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Sechangu Sioux never altogether leave this region. It is true that\nmany wander away to the Missouri, the Muddy Water, or follow the buffalo\ndown to the Platte River, but some would always rather trust to the\nwinter hunt upon this familiar stream. This winter, High Head, with his\nlittle band of eleven men, was wintering at the old place. Among them\nwas Zechah, a renowned hunter, who had followed this band because of his\nlove for Hintola, the chief's daughter. It had been a long courtship,\nbut they were married at last. Zechah's skill had been proved by his\nfather-in-law, and the arrow test was only sport to him. His unerring\naim was now the pride of the old chief.\n\nThe party encamped on the Little Rosebud had eaten all of their fresh\nmeat. They must seek for game. Accordingly, three teepees went farther\nup the river. The winter was wellnigh over when there came a heavy thaw,\nand snow-shoes were made for the use of the hunters.\n\nThey pitched the teepees, looking like a trio of white conical bowlders,\nin a well-protected bottom. Winding gulches diverged from the main\nstream like the ribs of a huge snake, until they lost themselves in the\nhills. These dry creek-beds were sentinelled by cedar-trees, erect and\nsoldier-like, which at a distance looked very black, but near by they\nappeared green.\n\nThe party was cheerful. High Head was in the best of spirits, telling\nthe history, traditions and legends of the region.\n\n\"This,\" said he, \"is the country of the wild tribes who walk with four\nfeet. It is the home of those people of unknown language. It has never\nbeen said that one could starve upon the Little Rosebud. In the summer\nit is the land of battles, both among the wild tribes and among men. In\nthe winter-time there is peace.\"\n\nAt this moment a solitary singer, standing on the brink of a high cliff\nbehind and above the teepees, broke into a weird and doleful chant.\n\n\"Listen to the warriors, the song of the warriors of Wazeyah, the god of\ncold and storm!\" Thus he sang in a high, minor key, with sudden drops to\nlower notes and inflections.\n\nWhen he ceased silence reigned, except for the occasional snapping of a\nburning ember.\n\nPresently the watcher descended and made his report. \"There is a great\nwind and snow coming. Our ponies are some distance away. We shall not be\nable to find them all for the darkness and the storm-wind approaching.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho,\" spoke High Head, confidently. \"It is not bad. We shall eat\nmeat to-morrow. The snow will be deep, and my son-in-law will have the\neasier hunting. It may be that I myself will lasso a great bear,\"\nchuckled the old man.\n\nIt snowed and the wind blew on that night and for four nights\nfollowing. The little store of dried meat that they had brought with\nthem was entirely exhausted. On the fifth day they all sat looking\nsilently into the fire. Their faces were worn and haggard. The children\ncried for food, but there was no food. Wazeyah, the god of winter, still\nwaged war, and the snow was piled high around their teepees.\n\nNight came, the darkness fell heavily, and terrified them with the\nthought of death around their feeble fires. Famine was sitting among\nthem with a stern face. At last all but two rolled themselves in their\nwarm buffalo-robes and lay down. Even should the storm cease, they\nfeared that none now was strong enough to hunt.\n\nZechah sat beside his young wife, gazing into the fire. \"It will be sad\nnews for my father that I died of starvation upon the Little Rosebud,\"\nhe mused. \"It will be told for generations to come, whenever they camp\nat this place.\"\n\nWhen at last he lay noiselessly down, he could not sleep. Looking up\nthrough the smoke-hole, he sang a hunting song to himself in an\nundertone:\n\n    \"The wind brings the secret news--good news of the hunting!\n    It is a scent--it may be a trail--it may be a sound of the game!\n    Whatever it be, it is a clew to the hunter,\n    A sign from above to appease hunger, to save life!\"\n\nSinging thus, Zechah had forgotten that he was hungry, when all at once\nhe saw a bright star through the smoke-hole. He had not noticed that the\nwind had ceased to blow.\n\nThe hunter arose softly, put on fur-lined moccasins, and girded himself\nwith a strong strap over his lightest robe. He took his knife, a bow,\nand quiver full of arrows, and set out through the gray, frosty air.\n\nIt was now almost daylight. The rocks and pines were robed in white,\nlike spirits. The snow was deep and heavy under Zechah's feet, but he\nwas determined to succeed. He followed the ridges where the snow was\nwell blown off. He had forgotten his own hunger and weakness, and\nthought only of the famishing people for him to serve.\n\nAbove the eastern hills the day was coming fast. The hunter hurried\ntoward the gulches where he knew the game was wont to be. Just as he\nreached the higher ridges the sun appeared over the hills, and Zechah\ncame upon the track of another early hunter. It was Shunkmanitoo, the\ngray wolf. He followed the trail until he came out upon a hill\noverlooking a deep gulch. He could only see the tips of the pines along\nits course. At a little distance, Shunkmanitoo sat upon his haunches,\napparently awaiting Zechah. Again he took the lead and the wild hunter\nfollowed. The wolf looked back now and then as if to see whether the man\nwere coming.\n\nAt last he paused upon a projecting bank commanding the bottom of the\ngulch. The Sioux approached him. When he had come very near, the wolf\nwent on down the slope.\n\n\"Hi, hi!\" Zechah spoke his thanks with arms outstretched toward the\nrising sun. Through a rift in the bank he saw a lone bison, ploughing up\nthe deep snow in search of grass. He was well covered with snow and had\nnot seen the two hunters appear above. Zechah at once dodged backward in\norder to approach his game behind cover and stealthily.\n\nHe was now almost over the gulch, partly concealed by a bunch of dead\nthistles. There was no suspicion in the mind of Tatanka. Zechah examined\nhis arrows and bow. He placed the sharpest one to his bow-string, and\nwith all the strength that he could muster he let the arrow fly. In\nanother instant he saw Tatanka snort and plough up the snow like mad,\nwith the arrow buried deep in his side. The bison did not know who or\nwhat had dealt him such a deadly thrust. He ran in a circle and fell\nupon the snow, while blood coursed from his nostrils, staining its\nwhiteness.\n\nZechah was almost overcome by his good-fortune. Again he held his right\nhand outstretched toward the sun, and stood motionless.\n\n\"Hi, hi, hi, hi! tunkashela!\" Thus he blessed the Father of all.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the March thaw set in, the snow was melted off the south side of\nthe hills. Hootay had doubtless had this danger in mind, for he could\nnot have selected a more excellent place to avoid the catastrophe. But,\nalas! the best calculations will sometimes miscarry. It was nothing more\nthan a stray root of the cedar-tree at his door which deviated the\ncourse of the water, running harmlessly down the hill, into Hootay's\nhome. In a short time the old medicine-man was compelled to come out,\ndrenching wet.\n\nHe sat down on a dry corner of the mound to meditate upon his future\ncourse. In his younger days he would have thought nothing of this\nmisfortune, but now he was old and rheumatic. No inhabitant of that\ncountry knew better than he that it is not safe to sleep in the woods on\nthe bottom-lands in the spring of the year. Hootay is a boastful hunter,\noften over-confident, yet wise in wood-craft, and what he has once\nlearned he never forgets. He knew that when a thaw comes all the hills\ncontribute their snow and water to the Little Rosebud, and for a few\ndays it runs a mighty river. Even Chapa, the beaver, is wont at such\ntimes to use his utmost precautions to guard against disaster.\n\nHootay carefully considered the direction of the wind, sniffed the air\nto discover if any other wild hunter were near, and finally set out in a\nsouthwesterly direction toward the head of the Little Rosebud.\n\nHe had not gone far when he felt that he was scarcely equal to tramping\nthrough the slush and mud. More than this, he was leaving too broad a\ntrail behind him. These considerations led him along the pine ridges,\nand for this course there was still another reason. He was hungry now,\nbut there was little hope of meeting with any big game. Along the ridges\nthere is early exposure of the ground where edible roots may be\nobtained, and where he hoped also to find dry bedding.\n\nHe had fair success in this, and had made himself somewhat comfortable\nwhen the blizzard set in. He had found tolerable shelter but very little\nfood, and since his winter rest was so unexpectedly broken up, food he\nmust have. As soon as the storm ceased, he had to venture out in search\nof it. He could no longer depend upon roots--the snow was far too deep\nfor that. He must catch what he could. The old fellow was now almost\nhopelessly slow and weak, but he still had a good deal of confidence in\nhimself.\n\nHe waded clumsily through the deep snow, following a dry creek-bed; and,\nnow and then, from force of habit, he would stealthily climb the bank\nand scan the field above and below before exposing himself. This was\npartly for self-protection and partly in the hope of surprising his\ngame.\n\nPresently Hootay came upon the footprint of another hunter. He snarled\nand put his muzzle closer to the trail when he detected the hateful odor\nof man. At the same instant he smelled fresh meat.\n\nThe very smell seemed to give him a new lease of life, for he sat up on\nhis haunches and began sniffing the air eloquently. His hair was as\nshaggy as that of an old buffalo-robe, and his age and sitting posture\nmade his hump appear very prominent.\n\n\"Waugh, waugh!\" the old man grunted, with an air of disgust, for there\ncame to his nose a strong human scent mingled with the savory odor of\nthe life-giving meat.\n\nZechah distinctly heard the snort of a bear. He seized his bow and\nquiver full of arrows.\n\n\"Can it be that Hootay is near?\" he muttered to himself. \"He may perhaps\nadd my scalp to the many that he has taken of my people, but I will\nfirst send an arrow of mine into his body!\"\n\nHe rested his bow upon the shaggy head of the dead bull, and went on\nskinning it with a large knife, working rapidly. Presently the gray wolf\napproached from another direction.\n\n\"Ho, kola, you have guided me to game! It is yours and mine. You, too,\nshall have meat,\" he said.\n\nAs soon as he had skinned one side, Zechah cut off a generous piece and\nwalked toward Shunkmanitoo, who was sitting upon his haunches, watching\nhim work in that wonderful way with a single sharp thing in his hand.\nBut he did not think it best to trust the wild man too far, for he still\ncarried that sharp thing in his hand as he approached him with the meat.\nHe arose and moved backward a few paces.\n\n\"Do not fear, kola! Warriors and hunters like ourselves must have faith\nin each other when they work together for a good cause,\" the Red man\nsaid, again. He placed the meat upon the snow where Shunkmanitoo had\nbeen sitting, and returned to his work.\n\nAfter a time, and with apparent reluctance, the big, burly wolf came\nback to his meat and examined it. At last he ate of it. It was good. He\nno longer feared the wild man. From time to time Zechah would throw him\na piece of meat until he was satisfied.\n\nThe hunter had cleared away the snow around the buffalo, which was now\ncut up in convenient pieces for carrying. He was exceedingly hungry. He\nhad, indeed, eaten a piece of the liver, which the Sioux always eats\nraw, but this only served to sharpen his appetite. He had heavy work\nbefore him, for he must take some of the meat home to his starving wife,\nand then bring as many of the people as were able to walk to carry the\nrest to camp. There were plenty of dry boughs of the pine. He made a\nfire by rubbing together the pieces of dry cedar-wood which every Indian\nhunter of that day carried with him, and, broiling strips of the savory\nmeat upon live coals, he ate of it heartily.\n\nSuddenly a fearful growl was heard. Zechah had dismissed the idea of a\nbear from his mind as soon as his friend Shunkmanitoo appeared. He was\ntaken by surprise. When he looked up, Hootay was almost upon him. He\ncame forward with his immense jaws wide open, his shaggy hair making him\nlook as big as a buffalo bull against the clear whiteness of the\nlandscape.\n\nShunkmanitoo's chance was small. He occupied the only road to Zechah's\nposition, and there were perpendicular walls of snow on either side of\nhim. His only hope lay in his quickness and agility. As Hootay rushed\nmadly upon him with uplifted paw, the wolf sprang nimbly to one side and\nwell up on the snow-bank. His assailant had to content himself with\nraking down the snow, and in the effort he plunged into a heavy drift\nfrom which he was unable to drag himself.\n\nHootay was in sad trouble, for he had tumbled right into a deep gully\nfilled to the brim with soft snow, and the more he struggled the deeper\nhe was sinking. Zechah perceived the situation, and made ready to send\nthe fatal arrow.\n\nHootay waved his right paw pitifully. There was something human-like\nabout him. The Indian's heart beat fast with excitement. Weakened by his\nlong fast, he scarcely saw or heard clearly, but, according to the\ntraditions of his people, the old bear addressed him in these words:\n\n\"No, Zechah, spare an old warrior's life! My spirit shall live again in\nyou. You shall be henceforth the war prophet and medicine-man of your\ntribe. I will remain here, so that your people may know that you have\nconquered Hootay, the chief of the Little Rosebud country.\"\n\nIt is not certain that he really said this, but such was the belief of\nthe hunter. He put his arrow back in the quiver, and immediately,\naccording to custom, he took his pipe from his belt and smoked the pipe\nof peace.\n\nA huge piece of meat was suspended from his shoulders above the quiver,\nand, with his bow firmly grasped in the right hand, Zechah addressed his\nfriend Shunkmanitoo:\n\n\"Ho, kola, you have eaten what is yours; leave mine for my starving\npeople!\"\n\nThe wolf got up and trotted away as if he understood, while Zechah\nhurried back on his own trail with tidings of life and happiness.\n\nHe ran as often as he came to open ground, and in a short time stood\nupon the top of the hill with the little group of teepees just below\nhim. The smoke from each arose sadly in a straight column, tapering\nupward until lost in the blue. Not a soul stirred and all was quiet as\nthe dead.\n\n\"Ho, he ya hay!\" the hunter chanted aloud, and ended with a war-whoop.\nOut of the sleepy-looking teepees there came a rush of men and women.\nOld High Head appeared with outstretched hands, singing and pouring\nforth praises. \"Hi, hi, hi, hi!\" he uttered his thanks, in a powerful\nvoice, still stretching his arms to heaven.\n\nHintola was the quietest and most composed of them all. She went first\nto meet her husband, for it was the custom that, when the son-in-law\nreturns with game, his wife must meet him outside the camp and bring\nback food to her parents.\n\nHaving distributed the meat in small pieces, High Head announced his\nson-in-law's success as a hunter, and solicited all who were able to\njoin him in going after the remainder. He ended with a guttural song of\ncheer and gladness.\n\nIt was then Zechah told of his meeting with the other wild hunters, and\nhow Hootay was conquered and imprisoned in the snow.\n\n\"Ugh, ugh!\" grunted High Head, with much satisfaction. \"This means a\nwar-bonnet for my son-in-law--a story for coming generations!\"\n\nBut the hunter did not repeat the bear's words to himself until he had\nbecome a famous war prophet. When the people went after the meat, they\nfound the old warrior lying dead without a wound, and with one accord\nthey made a proper offering in his honor.\n\n\n\n\nThe River People\n\n\nAway up the Pipestone Creek, within sight of the Great Pipestone Quarry,\nlived old Chapawee and her old man Hezee, of the beaver tribe. Unlike\nsome of their neighbors, they had emigrated from a great distance. They\nhad, therefore, much valuable experience; and this experience was not\ntheirs alone--it was shared with their immediate family. Hence their\nchildren and their children's children were uncommonly wise.\n\nThey had come to this country many years before, and had established\ntheir home in this ancient and much-prized resort of the two-legged\ntribe. Around the Pipestone Quarry the wild Red men would camp in large\nnumbers every summer, and it seemed that the oldest beaver could not\nremember a time when they were not there. Their noisy ways were\nterrible indeed to the river people, who are a quiet folk.\n\nIt was the custom with this simple and hard-working pair to build a very\nwarm house for themselves. In fact, they had both summer and winter\nhomes, besides many supply and store houses. Their dam was always in\nperfect order, and their part of the creek was the deepest and clearest,\ntherefore their robe of furs was of the finest. If any of the Hezee band\nwas ever killed by the two-legs, their fur was highly valued.\n\nChapawee always insisted upon two rooms in her house: one for herself\nand the old man, and one for her yearling children who chose to remain\nwith them for the first winter. She always built one very large house,\nrunning deep into the bank, so that in case of overflow or freshet they\nwould still be safe. Besides the usual supply-houses, she and her old\nman excavated several dining-rooms. These are simply pockets underground\nat the edge of the stream. In case of any danger on the surface, they\ncould take some food from a store-house and carry it to one of these\ndining-rooms, where it was eaten in peace.\n\nIt was the rule with the old folks to eat apart from their year-old\nchildren. The yearlings, on the other hand, eat all together, and have\nas much fun and freedom as they please. Their merriest frolics, however,\nare in the night, in and upon their swimming and diving pond. Here they\ncoast rapidly head-first down a steep bank slippery with mud, lying upon\ntheir chests or sitting upon their haunches, and at times they even turn\nsomersaults and perform other acrobatic feats. This coasting has a\nthreefold object. It is for play and also for practice; to learn the art\nof sliding into deep water without unnecessary noise; and, more than\nall, according to the Red people, it is done for the purpose of\npolishing and beautifying their long, silky fur.\n\nThe beaver tribe are considered wisest of the smaller four-legged\ntribes, and they are a people of great common-sense. Even man gains\nwisdom and philosophy from a study of their customs and manners. It is\nin the long winter nights, as is believed and insisted upon by the wild\nIndians, that the beaver old folks recite their legends to their\nchildren and grandchildren. In this case it was usually Chapawee who\nrelated the traditions of her people and her own experiences, gathering\nabout her all the yearlings and the newly married couples, who might\ntake a notion to go off in search of a new claim, just as she and Hezee\ndid. So it was well that they should thoroughly understand the ways and\nwisdom of their people.\n\nTo be sure, she had breathed it into them and fed them with it since\nbefore they could swim; yet she knew that some things do not remain in\nthe blood. There are certain traits and instincts that are very strong\nin family and tribe, because they refer to conditions that never change;\nbut other matters outside of these are likewise very useful in an\nemergency.\n\nOld Chapawee could never sleep after the sun reaches the middle of the\nwestern sky in summer. In winter they all sleep pretty much all of the\nday. Having finished her supper with Hezee one night under the large\nelm-tree on the east side of the dam, she dove down with a somersault,\nglided along close to the bottom of the pond, inspecting every pebble\nand stray chip from their work-room, until she reached the\nassembly-room, which might almost be called a school-house in the\nmanner of the paleface.\n\nShe came scrambling up the slippery bank to the middle entrance. No\nsooner had she shaken off the extra water from her long hair than\nHezee's gray mustache emerged from the water, without exposing his head.\nHe was teasing the old lady, trying to make her believe there was a crab\nin the landing. Quick as a flash she flopped over in the air and slapped\nthe side of her broad tail upon the water where her spouse was lurking\nto deceive her. Down he dove to the bottom and lay there motionless as\nif he expected her to hunt him up; but after a while he went off and\nnotified all the young people that it was time for their gathering at\nthe old meeting-house.\n\nHere Chapawee occupied the place of honor, while Hezee filled the\nundignified position of errand-boy. All the young beavers came in, some\nstill carrying a bit of sapling in their mouths, but, on realizing their\nmistake, each dove back to place it where it belonged. They arranged\nthemselves in a circle, sitting upright on their flat tails for\ncushions, their hands folded under their chins.\n\n\"A long time ago,\" began Chapawee, the old beaver grandmother, \"we lived\non the other side of the Muddy Water (the Missouri), upon a stream\ncalled Wakpala Shecha (Bad River). Father and mother, with my older\nbrothers and sisters, built a fine dam and had a great pond there. But\nwe led a hard life. There are not many ponds on Bad River and the stream\ndries up every summer, therefore thousands of buffalo came to our place\nto drink. They were very bad people. It seems that they do not respect\nthe laws and customs of any other nation. They used to come by the\nhundred into our pond and trample down our houses and wear holes in the\nbanking of our dam. They are so large and clumsy that they would put\ntheir feet right through the walls, and we had to hide in our deepest\nholes until we were very hungry, waiting for them to go away.\n\n\"Then there were the shunktokechas and shungelas (wolves and foxes), who\nfollow the buffalo. They, too, are a bad and dangerous sort, so that\nmother and father had to be continually on the watch. We little beaver\nchildren played upon the dam only when mother thought it safe. In the\nnight we used to enjoy our swimming, diving, and coasting school. We\npractised gnawing sticks, and the art of making mud cement that will\nhold water, how to go to the bottom silently, without effort, and to\nspank the water for a signal or danger-call with our tails.\n\n\"There were many other bad people in that country. There was the ugly\nold grizzly. He would sometimes come to our place to swim and cool off.\nWe would not mind, only he is so treacherous. He was ready to kill one\nof us at any moment if we gave him the chance.\n\n\"Mother played a trick on him once, because he was such a nuisance. He\nwas wont to crawl out upon one of the logs which projected from the dam\nand over the deep water. This log was braced by posts in the water.\nMother lay on the bottom and loosened the soil and then quickly pulled\none of the posts away, and the old grizzly fell in headlong. She dove to\none side, and, as the old man struggled to get out, crawled up behind\nhim and gashed one of his hind paws with her sharp wood-choppers. Oh,\nhow the old fellow howled and how he scrambled for the dam! He groaned\nlong as he sat on the bank and doctored his wounded foot. After that he\nwas never again seen to sit upon one of our logs, but when he came to\nthe river to drink and cool off his hot paws he always took the farthest\npoint from our houses, and then he only put one foot in the water at a\ntime.\n\n\"Mother was dreadfully afraid of one wicked animal. That was Igmu, the\nmountain lion. He does not live in this part of the country, and it is\nsuch a relief,\" said the old beaver woman. \"Whenever one of the Igmus\ncomes to our place, we all hurry to deep water and lie there, for they\nhave been known to dig through the walls of our houses.\n\n\"There was still another danger that our people had to contend with.\nWakpala Shecha has a swift current and a narrow bed, and we had terrible\nfreshets two or three times in a season.\n\n\"At last there came a great flood. It was after I was two years old and\nhad learned everything--how to chop wood, which way to fell the trees,\nand what to store up for the winter; how to mix mud cement and drive\nposts in the creek bottom, and all of the other lessons. Early in the\nspring, while there was still snow on the ground, a heavy rain came.\nEvery dry gulch was a torrent. We had never known such a flood. It\ncarried away all our dams and made our strongest houses cave in. We did\nnot dare to go to shore, for we could hear the wolves calling all along\nthe banks.\n\n\"At last mother and father bound two drift-logs together with willow\nwithes. We all helped, as none of us ever think of being idle. Upon the\nlogs we made a rude nest, and here we all slept and ate as we floated\ndown the stream.\n\n\"After several days we came to a heavily timbered bottom where there was\na very large fallen tree. The roots held firmly to the bank and\nprojected over the water. We all let go of our raft and climbed upon it;\nthere were bushy branches at the top. We trimmed the trunk of the tree\nleading to dry land and built a temporary nest upon the bushy top, until\nthe water should go down and we could find a good place to build. Mother\nand father went down the stream the next night to explore for a new\nhome, and I was left in the nest with two brothers. We, too, explored\nthe shores and little inlets near us, but we all came back to the nest\nthat morning except mother and father. I have never seen them from that\nday to this.\n\n\"I and my two brothers slept together in the warm nest. All at once I\nfelt a slight jar. I opened my eyes, and there lay upon the trunk of our\ntree a fierce Igmu, ready to fish us out with his strong arm and hooked\nclaws.\n\n\"Kerchunk! I dropped into the deep stream to save my life. I swam a\nlittle way, and then came to the surface and peeped back. Ah, I saw him\nseize and violently dash one of my brothers against the tree, but the\nother I did not see. Perhaps he did as I did to save himself.\n\n\"I went down the Bad River until I came to the Big Muddy. Ice was\nfloating in huge cakes upon the brown flood. I wanted to go, too, for I\nhad heard of a country far to the sunrise of the great river. I climbed\nupon a floating ice-cake, and I moved on down the Muddy Water.\n\n\"I kept a close watch on the shores, hoping to see father and mother,\nbut I saw no sign of them. I passed several islands, but the shores\nwere loose sand. It was not the kind of soil in which our people build,\nso I did not stop, although there were fine tall cotton woods and all\nthe kinds of trees that we eat. Besides, I did not care to go to shore\nor up the mouths of any of the creeks unless I should discover signs of\nour tribe. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been alone.\n\n\"So I kept on my ice-boat until I was out of food, and then I stopped at\nan island. I swam near the shore to find a good landing, and when I\nreached the bank I saw the footprints of a beaver man. My heart beat\nhard, and I could hardly believe my eyes. Some one had cut down a fresh\nsapling, and as I ate of the delicious bark and twigs I was watching for\nhim every moment. But he did not come.\n\n\"Then I went back to the water's edge to study the trail and see where\nhe went. I found to my disappointment that he had gone back to the\nwater. As my mother had taught me every beaver sign, I knew he was a\ntraveller, come to take food, as I was. Hoping to overtake him, I\nhurried back to another floating cake of ice, and again I found myself\ngoing down the big stream.\n\n\"When I came in sight of another island, I watched carefully and saw\nsome one moving on the shore. I was not hungry then, but I landed and\nbegan to nibble a twig at the water's edge. Presently I saw a beautiful\nyoung man coming toward me with a fine sapling in his mouth. I think I\nnever saw a nicer looking beaver man than Kamdoka! He, too, was so glad\nto see me, and brought me the sapling to eat.\n\n\"We were soon so devoted and absorbed in each other that we forgot all\nabout our journey. Kamdoka proposed that we should never leave one\nanother, and I agreed. He at once built a rude house right under a high\nbank, where a tree had fallen over the water and its roots still held\nfirm. On each side he planted double rows of sticks, and plastered the\nwhole with mud. The narrow door was concealed by the tree-trunk, and led\ndirectly into the water. This was our first home. It was only for a few\ndays, for we soon discovered that we could not live there.\n\n\"There were still a few large cakes of ice going down the river, and on\nthese we continued our journey, until one night our ice broke up and we\nwere forced to swim. At last we came to a country which was just such as\nwe would like to live in, and a stream that seemed the very one we had\nbeen dreaming about. It had good, firm banks, nice landings, and was\njust small enough to dam if necessary. Kamdoka and I were very happy.\nThis stream the Red people call the Wakpaepakshan (Bend of the River).\n\n\"It was not long before the wild men came in great numbers to this\nbeautiful river, and they were worse than Igmu and the grizzly. With\ntheir round iron with the iron strings they caught many of the beaver\nneighbors. Sometimes they would come with their dogs and drive us out of\nour houses with dry entrances; again, they would hide the round iron at\nour coasting and diving places, so that they caught many of our people.\nIt is impossible to get away when one is bitten by one of these round\nirons. It was this which forced us at last to leave this lovely spot.\n\n\"While we still lived upon this stream, it came about that Kamdoka was\ncalled Hezee. His fine pair of wood-choppers had grown short and very\nyellow--that is why he is called Hezee--Yellow Teeth. Hezee and I\nforsook our home after our little Chapchincha was caught by the wild\nmen. Hezee's sharp eyes discovered one of these ugly irons on our\npremises, and he reported it to me. I cautioned the children to be\ncareful, and for a time they were so, but one morning my baby, my little\nChapchincha, forgot, and, plunging blindly down from our landing, she\nwas seized! They took her away with them, and the very next night we\nmoved from that place.\n\n\"We found the mouth of this stream and followed it up. We selected many\npretty places, but they were all claimed by some of the older\ninhabitants. Several times Hezee fought for the right to a home, and you\ncan see where he had an ear bitten off in one of these fights. We had no\npeace until we came within sight of the Pipestone Quarry. To be sure,\nthere are many wild men here also, but they come in midsummer, when they\ndo not kill any beaver people. We simply keep close to our homes when\nthey are here, and they scarcely ever trouble us.\n\n\"Children, we have made many fine homes, Hezee and I. We both came from\nbeyond the Muddy Water--a very bad country. It is the country of\ncoyotes, bears, bighorns, and the like. This is a country for our\npeople. If any of you should be dissatisfied, or driven to leave your\nhome, do not go beyond the Muddy Water. Always take one of the large\nstreams, going to the south and the sunrise of the great river.\n\n\"You see my fingers getting stubby and nailless. Hezee's wood-choppers\nare no longer sharp. His long mustache is gray now. We are getting old.\nBut we have lived happily, Hezee and I. We have raised many beaver\npeople. We shall hope never to go away from this place.\n\n\"Children, be true to the customs of your people. Always have good\nhomes. First of all, you must build a strong dam--then you will have\ndeep water. You must have both underground homes and adobes. Have plenty\nof store-houses, well filled; and when the enemy comes to kill you, you\ncan hold out for many days.\"\n\nThese were the old beaver woman's words to her young people. \"Ho, ho!\"\nthey applauded her when she had done.\n\n\"You must learn all these things,\" said old Hezee, after his wife had\ndone. \"Always gnaw your tree more on the side toward the stream, so that\nit will fall over the water. You should cut down the trees on the very\nedge of the bank. Dive to the bottom and under the bank as the tree\nfalls. Sometimes one of us is pinned down by a branch of a fallen tree\nand dies there. I myself have seen this. The water is the safest place.\nYou must never go too far away from deep water.\"\n\nUp and down Pipestone Creek for four or five miles spread the community\nformed by Chapawee's and Hezee's descendants. There was not any large\ntimber, only a few scattered trees here and there, yet in most places\nthere was plenty of food, for the river people do not depend entirely\nupon the bark of trees for their sustenance. No village was kept in\nbetter order than this one, for it was the wisdom of Chapawee and Hezee\nthat made it so. Summer nights, the series of ponds was alive with their\nyoung folks in play and practice of the lessons in which the old pair\nhad such a pride. Their stream overflowed with the purest of spring\nwater. No fish were allowed to pollute their playgrounds. The river\npeople do not eat fish, but no fish are found in their neighborhoods. If\nMr. and Mrs. Otter, with their five or six roguish children,\noccasionally intruded upon their domain, the men of the tribe politely\nrequested them to go elsewhere. So for a long time they held sway on the\nPipestone Creek, and the little beaver children dove and swam\nundisturbed for many summers.\n\nBut Chapawee and Hezee were now very old. They occupied a pond to\nthemselves. Both were half blind and toothless, but there were certain\nlarge weeds which were plentiful and afforded them delicious food. They\nremained in-doors a great deal of the time.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Ho, koda!\" was the greeting of two Indian men who appeared one day at\nthe door of the old American Fur Company's store upon the Sioux\nreservation in Minnesota.\n\n\"How, Red Blanket! How, One Feather!\" was the reply of the trader.\n\"Isn't it about time for you people to start in on your fall trapping?\"\n\n\"Yes, that is what we came for. We want traps, ammunition, and two\nspades on account. We have learned from the prairie Indians that the Big\nSioux and its tributaries are full of beaver, otter, mink, and\nmusk-rats. We shall go into that region for two months' hunting,\" said\nRed Blanket, speaking for the two. Both men were experienced trappers.\n\n\"We must strike the Pipestone Quarry and then follow down that stream to\nits mouth,\" remarked One Feather to his friend, after they had returned\nto camp with a load of goods that they had secured on credit, and had\ncut up some of the tobacco for smoking.\n\nA few days later two solitary teepees stood on the shore of the pond,\nunder the red cliffs of the Pipestone Quarry.\n\nRed Blanket had gone down the stream to examine the signs. Toward\nevening, he came in with a large beaver on his shoulder.\n\n\"Koda, the stream is alive with beaver! I saw all of their dams and\ntheir houses, and many were out swimming without fear. They have not\nbeen disturbed in many years.\"\n\nSoon both hunters emerged from their teepees heavily laden with traps,\neach man accompanied by his intelligent dog. They saw many fresh tracks\nof the inhabitants as they approached the beaver village. Their houses\nabove ground were large and numerous, and their underground homes were\nas many, but the entrances were concealed by the water. The slides were\nstill wet with recent plays.\n\n\"It is the home of their great chief,\" said Red Blanket, impressively.\n\"Friend, let us sit down and offer the pipe! We must smoke to the beaver\nchief's spirit, that he may not cast an evil charm upon our hunting.\"\n\nBoth men sat down upon their crossed feet in the tall meadow-grass to\ncarry out the familiar suggestion. One Feather pulled the leather\ntobacco-pouch from his hunting-belt, and filled the pipe. He held the\nmouth-piece to the four corners of the earth before handing it to his\ncompanion. As they smoked, their faces were serious, and expressed the\nfull dignity and importance they had given to their intended massacre of\na harmless and wise people.\n\n\"Let us go down a little way,\" said One Feather, finally. \"I want to see\nhow far the dams extend, and if it is only one family or many.\"\n\nWhen they reached the second dam, the pond contained very little sign of\nbeaver. There were landing and feeding places, but apparently they were\nnot much used. The water was very deep and clear. Beyond this pond were\nmany fresh signs again. This raised a new question in the minds of the\nRed hunters. On the way back again, they stopped on the shore of this\npond and smoked again, while they discussed why there was not much life\nthere, when there was such fine, deep, clear water, and the dams in such\nperfect condition.\n\n\"It may be a haunted pond,\" said One Feather.\n\n\"It is certain that some strange thing lives in this deep water,\" added\nRed Blanket, with gravity. They were fully concealed by the tall grass,\nand their dogs lay quietly at their sides.\n\n\"Look, my friend, it is he!\" exclaimed One Feather, suddenly. They\nquickly faced about to behold an animal scramble up the steep bank. Both\nof his ears were entirely gone. The hair of his head and face was quite\ngray, including the few coarse whiskers that the beaver people wear. It\nlooked very like the unshaven face of an old man. The hair of his body\nwas short and rough--the silky, reddish coat was gone.\n\n\"It is an old, old beaver,\" whispered One Feather. \"Ah, he is the\ngrandfather of the village! I see now why this pond is not much used by\nthe young folks. The old people live here.\"\n\nHe was apparently half blind and hard of hearing, as they had made\nenough noise to attract Hezee's attention, but he did not move. Soon\nChapawee came up slowly and sat beside her old man. As the two sat\nthere, upright, sunning themselves, there came from a distance an\nundertone call. Then a large female beaver glided up the stream, bearing\nin her mouth the fine, branchy bough of a tree, which she must have gone\nsome miles to get. She approached the old pair, and kindly set the\nbranch before them. While they greedily nibbled at it, the young woman\nquietly disappeared.\n\n\"These are people much like us. Surely they build much warmer houses\nthan we do,\" said Red Blanket, laughing.\n\n\"Yes, they are a wonderful people,\" replied his friend, with a serious\nface. \"This is the grandmother's pond. We shall respect it to-morrow,\"\nhe continued. \"We shall open the other dams and drain the water off,\nthen the entrances will all be dry and our dogs will enter their homes\nand drive them out. When they come out, we shall spear them.\" This was\nthe plan of One Feather, to which his companion assented.\n\nIt was a sad day for the river people. Presently the two slayers came to\nthe pond of Hezee and Chapawee, where they lay nestled together in their\nold, warm bed.\n\n\"I would like to leave the two old people alone,\" said One Feather. \"But\nwe cannot get at the upper ponds without draining this one.\" So it was\ndecided to break down both of their dams. When the entrance to their\nhouse was exposed, the dogs rushed in and were beginning to bark, but\nOne Feather called them back.\n\nThe work was accomplished, but it had taken two days. It was a sad\nmassacre!\n\n\"We must repair the dam for the old folks before we go, and I have left\nfour young ones alive, so that they can help feed them. I do not want\ntheir spirits to follow us,\" said One Feather. So on the very next\nmorning the two hunters came back to the middle pond. Red Blanket with\nhis dog was a little in advance.\n\n\"Come here, friend!\" he called. There Hezee and Chapawee lay cold and\nstiff in the open.\n\nThey had gone out in the dark to rebuild their dam, according to the\nhabit of a long life. Then they visited some of their children's homes\nfor aid, but all were silent and in ruins. Again they came back to work,\nbut it was all in vain. They were too old; their strength had left them;\nand who would care in such a case to survive the ruins of his house?\n\n\n\n\nThe Challenge\n\n\nThe medicine-drum was struck with slow, monotonous beat--that sound\nwhich always comes forth from the council-lodge with an impressive air\nof authority. Upon this particular occasion it was merely a signal to\nopen the ears of the people. It was the prelude to an announcement of\nthe day's programme, including the names of those warriors who had been\nchosen to supply the governing body with food and tobacco during that\nday. These names were presently announced in a sing-song or chanting\ncall which penetrated to the outskirts of the Indian village.\n\nJust as Tawahinkpayota, or Many Arrows, was cutting up a large plug of\nblack tobacco--for he was about to invite several intimate friends to\nhis lodge--\"Tawahinkpayota, anpaytu lay woyutay watinkta mechecha, uyay\nyo-o-o!\" the sonorous call, came for the second time. He stepped outside\nand held up an eagle feather tied to a staff. This was his answer, and\nsignified his willingness to perform the service.\n\nHaving cut a sufficient quantity of tobacco, Many Arrows asked his wife\nto call at the home of each of the famous hunters whom he intended to\nhonor, for it is the loved wife who has this privilege. Flying Bee was\nthe first invited; then Black Hawk, Antler, and Charging Bear. The lodge\nof Many Arrows was soon the liveliest quarter of the Big Cat\nvillage--for this particular band of Sioux was known as the Big Cat\nband. All came to the host's great buffalo-skin teepee, from the top of\nwhich was flying a horse's tail trimmed with an eagle feather, to denote\nthe home of a man of distinction.\n\n\"Ho, kola,\" greeted the host from his seat of dignified welcome. \"Ho,\"\nreplied each guest as he gracefully opened the door-flap. Inside of the\nspacious teepee were spread for seats the choicest robes of bear, elk,\nand bison. Mrs. Tawahinkpayota, who wished to do honor to her husband's\nguests, had dressed for the occasion. Her jet-black hair was smoothly\ncombed and arranged in two long plaits over her shoulders. Her face was\nbecomingly painted, and her superb garment, of richly embroidered\ndoeskin completed a picture of prosperous matronhood.\n\nWhile her husband offered the guests a short round of whiffs from the\npipe of peace, she went quietly about her preparations for the repast,\nand presently served each in turn with the choicest delicacies their\nlodge afforded. When all with due deliberation had ended their meal, the\nhost made his expected speech--for it was not without intention that he\nhad brought these noted men together.\n\n\"Friends,\" said he \"a thought has come to me strongly. I will open my\nmind to you. We should go to Upanokootay to shoot elk, deer, and\nantelope. We have been long upon the prairie, killing only buffalo. We\nneed fine buckskin for garments of ceremony. We want also the skins of\nbears for robes suitable to a warrior's home, such as the home of each\none of you. And then, you know, we must please our women, who greatly\ndesire the elk's teeth for ornament, and for fine needle-work the quills\nof the porcupine.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" they replied, in chorus.\n\n\"It is always well,\" resumed Many Arrows, \"for great hunters to go out\nin company. For this reason I have called you three together. Is it not\ntrue that Upanokootay, Elk Point, is the place we should seek?\"\n\nAgain they all assented. So it came about that the five hunters and\ntheir wives, who must cure and dress the skins of the game, departed\nfrom the large camp upon the Big Sioux River and journeyed southward\ntoward the favored hunting-ground.\n\nIt was near the close of the moon of black cherries, when elk and\nantelope roam in great herds, and the bears are happiest, because it is\ntheir feasting-time. There was to be a friendly contest in the hunting.\nAll agreed to use no weapon save the bow and arrows, although the\n\"mysterious iron\" and gunpowder had already been introduced.\nFurthermore, they agreed that no pony should be used in running down the\ngame. Thus the rules which should govern the character of the hunt were\nall determined upon in advance, and the natural rivalry between the\nhunters was to be displayed in a fair and open trial of skill and\nendurance. It was well known that these five were all tried and mighty\nmen beyond most of their fellows. This does not mean that they were\nlarge men; on the contrary, none was much above the medium height, but\nthey were exceptionally symmetrical and deep-chested.\n\nOn the second morning, the men scattered as usual, after selecting a\ncamping-ground at which all would meet later in the day. Each hunter was\nattired in his lightest buckskin leggings and a good running pair of\nmoccasins, while only a quiver with the arrows and bows swung over his\nstalwart shoulders. All set out apparently in different directions, but\nthey nevertheless kept a close watch upon one another, for the chief\noccasion of an Indian's mirth is his friend's mistakes or mishaps in the\nchase.\n\nFlying Bee hastened along the upper ridges overlooking the plain. What!\na great herd of elk grazing not far away! It was needful to get as close\nto them as possible in order to make a successful chase. He threw off\nall superfluous garments, tossed his quiver to one side, and took three\narrows with the bow in his hand. He then crept up a ravine until he came\nwithin a short distance of the herd. As he cautiously raised his head\nfor a survey, he saw a jack-rabbit's long ears a little way off, while a\nyearling antelope showed itself above the long grass to the left.\n\n\"Ugh, you may fool the elk, but you can't fool me!\" he remarked as he\nsmiled to himself.\n\nAgain, on the farther side, a fawn's head was turned in the direction of\nthe herd.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" chuckled Flying Bee. \"Where is the other?\"\n\nJust then, at his right, a little buffalo calf's head was pushed\ncautiously above a bunch of grass.\n\n\"Ugh, you are all here, are you? Then I will show you how to chase the\nelk.\"\n\nHe pulled a large bunch-weed and held it in front of him so that the elk\ncould not see him for a moment. Then he ran forward rapidly under cover\nof the weed.\n\nHe had scarcely done this when Charging Bear emerged from the direction\nof the fawn display. Tawahinkpayota came forth from the antelope head,\nwhile Black Hawk and Antler rose up where the jack-rabbit and calf had\nlain. Bee disappeared in the midst of the fleeing herd, as he was a\nrunner of exceptional swiftness. The great herd departed in a thunder of\nhoofs, and the five friends paused to smoke together and exchange jokes\nbefore going to examine their game. Black Hawk, whose quarry had gone\nwith the rest, carrying his arrows, was greatly disappointed, and he\nimmediately became a butt for the wit and ridicule of the others.\n\n\"How is this, friend? Have the elk such a fear of the harmless\njack-rabbit? It seems that they did not give you a chance to make your\nswift arrows count.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" laughed Tawahinkpayota. \"The elk people never knew before\nthat a rabbit would venture to give them chase.\"\n\n\"Ah, but he has often been seen to run after elk, deer, and even buffalo\nto save his own scalp from the wolves when he is pursued!\" Thus Charging\nBear came to the rescue of his friend.\n\nAnd so they joked while Antler filled the pipe.\n\n\"We must take only one or two short whiffs,\" he reminded them, as he\ncrowded down the mixture of tobacco and willow bark into the red bowl.\nIt was the time of hunting and running, when men do not smoke much, and\nthe young men not at all.\n\nHaving finished their smoke, they arose and followed the trail of the\nelk. The animal shot by Flying Bee lay dead not far away, with an arrow\nsticking out of the opposite side of its body, for he was a powerful\nman. Soon they came to two does lying dead, but there were no arrows,\nand the wounds were not arrow wounds.\n\n\"Ho, kola, hun-hun-hay! Surely you could not use your knife while\nrunning bow in hand?\" remarked Black Hawk.\n\n\"We shall make it a rule hereafter that no one shall use any strange or\nunusual weapon,\" added Many Arrows, jestingly.\n\n\"You see now how a Bee can sting!\" chimed in Charging Bear, in much\nmirth and admiration for the feat of his friend.\n\nThis, or something not unlike it, was now their daily experience, while\ntheir wives busily dressed the skins of their game and cured such of the\nmeat as they cared to save. Each man kept a mental record of his shots\nfor future reference, and all bore with unfailing good-humor the kindly\nridicule of their fellows. They often hunted singly, yet the tendency\nwas to be on the lookout for one another as well as for themselves,\nknowing that they were always in more or less peril from ferocious\nanimals, as well as from the enemies of their people. They would also\nsend out one of their number from time to time to scout the ground over\nwhich they expected to hunt on the following day.\n\n\"Ho, koowah yay yo, kola!\" was the cry of Black Hawk, one evening,\ninviting his companion hunters to feast at his lodge. He had been\nappointed to scout the field south of their camp, and, having explored\nthe country thoroughly, was ready to make his report.\n\n\"The land south of us, along the river,\" said he, \"is well peopled with\nelk, deer, and beaver, and the prairie adjoining is full of buffalo. As\nfar as the eye can see, their herds are countless. But, friends,\" he\nadded, \"there are also bears in this region. I have seen them, and I saw\nmany of their fresh tracks.\"\n\nBlack Hawk was a clever scout, and could imitate both the actions and\ncall of any animal so as almost to deceive his fellow-hunters. He had\ncovered considerable ground that afternoon.\n\n\"There is, however, no recent sign of any of our enemies, and the game\nis better than in any year that I have come here,\" he said again.\n\n\"Ho, ho, ho!\" was the chorus of thanks from the others.\n\n\"Flying Bee, you have hunted in this region longer than the rest of us.\nTell us of the wisdom of other years,\" suggested one.\n\n\"Ho, kola, hechetu!\" again came the approving chorus.\n\nThe feast was eaten, the pipe was laid aside, and Flying Bee began thus:\n\n\"It was in the same year that the great battle was fought between the\nOmahas and the Yankton Sioux, under this high ridge. We were hunting\nupon the other side, and I saw then as many elk and deer as there are\nnow. I was a young man and had just begun to know the ways of the elk\nand his weaknesses.\n\n\"You must never allow him to get your scent, but you can let him see\nyou, provided he does not understand. If he thinks you are some other\nanimal, he will not trouble to move away, but if you make him curious\nhe will come to you. If you put on a brown suit and appear and disappear\nin the edge of the woods at evening or early morning, the doe will\napproach you curiously. In the spring moons you can deceive her with the\ndoe-caller, and a little later than this you can deceive her with the\ncall of the buck elk.\n\n\"If you have a 'mysterious iron' you can shoot down any number of them.\nA woman or a white man could do as much. Also, if you have a swift pony\nyou can run down almost any game. This is no true test of skill. Do as\nwe are doing now--hunt on foot with only the bow and arrow or the knife\nand stone for weapons, for these were the weapons of our people for\nuntold years.\n\n\"There are no finer animals than the elk folk. I have studied their\nways, because, as you know, we have followed their customs in courtship\nand warfare as much as those of any nation. Doubtless all our manners\nand customs were first copied from the ways of the best animal people,\"\nadded the speaker.\n\n\"Ho, kola, hechetu!\" was the unanimous endorsement of his friends.\n\n\"From now on the great elk chieftain gathers his herd. The smaller herds\nare kept by smaller chiefs, and there are many duels. I say again, no\nduel is brave and honest as that of the elk. When the challenge comes,\nit means a death-notice and must be accepted. The elk is no coward; he\nnever refuses, although he knows that one at least must die in the\nfight.\n\n\"The elk woman, too, is the most truly coquettish of all animals. She is\npretty and graceful, but she is ready to elope with the first suitor.\nTherefore, we call the young man who is especially successful in\ncourtship the elk young man. The girlish and coquettish young woman we\ncall the elk maiden.\n\n\"The bear and the buffalo are people of much mouth. They make a great\ndeal of noise when they fight. The elk is always silent and does nothing\nthat is unbecoming. Those others are something like the white men, who\ncurse and broil much among one another,\" Bee concluded, with an air of\ntriumph.\n\n\"I have several times witnessed a combat between the elk and the\ngrizzly. I have also seen the battle between the buffalo bull and the\nelk, and victory is usually with the latter, although I have known him\nto be mortally wounded.\"\n\n\"And I have witnessed many times the duels between great elk chiefs,\"\njoined in Many Arrows.\n\n\"These people go in large bands from this time until the winter, when\nthey scatter in smaller bands. The elk leads a bachelor's life from\nJanuary until midsummer, and about July he begins to look for company.\"\nThis was Antler's observation.\n\n\"There are two large herds near Smoky Hill, upon the river meadows. It\nwill be easy to catch some of the does in the evening, when they return\nto their fawns. They hide the fawns well.\n\n\"Some leave them in the woods, others take them into the deep ravines.\nMy wife is anxious that I should bring her a fawn's skin for a fancy\nbag,\" suggested Black Hawk.\n\n\"It will take some good running to catch a fawn at this time of the\nyear. They are quite large now, and the earliest fawns are already out\nwith the herds,\" remarked Many Arrows. \"The moon of strawberries is\nreally the best time to catch the doe and fawn with a birchen whistle.\nHowever, there are some still hidden, and as long as the doe suckles her\nfawn she will always come back to it at evening.\"\n\nHaving received such encouraging reports from their advance scout, the\nwild hunters immediately removed their camp to the vicinity of the great\nherd. It was a glorious September morning, and the men all left for the\nfield at daybreak to steal upon the game. They hurried along in single\nfile until near enough, then they broke ranks, separated, and crept\naround an immense herd of elk. The river here made a quick turn, forming\na complete semicircle. A lovely plain was bounded by the stream, and at\neach end of the curve the river and woods met the side of the upper\nplateau. The whole scene was commanded by the highest point of the\nridge, called by the Indians Smoky Hill.\n\nThe elk people had now reached the climax of their summer gayety and\nlove-making. Each herd was ruled by a polygamous monarch of the\nplains--a great chieftain elk! Not a doe dared to leave the outskirts of\nthe herd, nor could the younger bucks venture to face their mighty\nrival of the many-branched horns and the experience of half a score of\nseasons.\n\nOf this particular herd the ruler was truly a noble monarch. He had all\nthe majesty that we might expect of one who had become the master of a\nthousand does.\n\nThe elk women were in their best attire and their happiest spirits. The\nfawns were now big enough to graze and no longer dependent upon their\nmothers' milk, therefore the mothers had given themselves over wholly to\nsocial conquests. Every doe was on the alert, and used her keen sight,\near, and scent to the utmost to discover the handsomest elk young man,\nwho, though not permitted to show himself within the kingdom of the\nmonarch, might warily approach its boundaries.\n\nHehaka, the monarch, was dressed in his finest coat and had but lately\nrubbed the velvet from his huge and branchy antlers. His blood was\nrichest and bluest of the elk folk. He stood upon the outer edge and\ncontinually circled the entire herd--a faithful guardian and watchful of\nhis rights.\n\nAround this herd the wild hunters converged and, each taking up his\nassigned position, were ready to begin the attack. But they delayed\nlong, because of their great admiration for the elk chieftain. His\nbearing was magnificent. The unseen spectators noted his every movement,\nand observed with interest the behavior of the elk women.\n\nNow and then a doe would start for the edge of the woods, and the ruler\nwould have to run after her to remind her of his claim. Whenever this\nhappened, a close scrutiny would reveal that a young buck elk had shown\nhis broadside there for a moment, desiring to entice one of the\nmonarch's elk women away. These young bucks do not offer a challenge;\nthey dare not fight, for that would mean certain death; so that they\nshow the better part of valor in avoiding the eye of the jealous\nmonarch. But they exert the greatest attraction over the susceptible elk\nwomen. All they need do is to show themselves, and the does will run\ntowards them. So the Indians say of certain young men, \"He has a good\nelk medicine, for he is always fortunate in courtship.\"\n\nAbout the middle or end of August these young bucks begin to call. They\ntravel singly over hill and plain, calling for their mates until their\nvoices grow hoarse and fail utterly. All this finally ends in the\nbreaking-up of the monarch's harem.\n\nThe call of the elk when new is a high-pitched whistle, pleasant to hear\nas well as fascinating and full of pathos. The love-call of the Indian\nyouth is modelled upon the whistle of the elk.\n\nNow, the Yanktons, unknown to our party, had routed a large herd of elk\non the day before on the plains south of the high ridge, but the great\nchieftain of the herd had escaped into the hills.\n\nHis herd destroyed, the chief was all alone. He could not forget the\ndisaster that had befallen his people. He came out upon the highest\npoint of the ridge and surveyed the plains below--the succession of\nbeautiful hills and valleys where he had roamed as lord. Now he saw\nnothing there except that immediately below him, upon a grassy plateau,\nwere one or two circular rows of the white, egg-shaped homes of those\ndreadful wild men who had destroyed or scattered all his elk women. He\nsnorted and sniffed the air and tossed his immense horns, maddened by\nthis humiliation.\n\n\"It is now calling-time. I have acquired the largest number of branches\non my horns. It is my right to meet any king among my people who thinks\nhimself better able than I to gather and keep a harem.\" Though weary and\ndisappointed, he now grew bold and determined. \"It is now calling-time,\"\nhe seemed to say to himself. \"To-morrow at sunrise my voice shall open\nthe call upon the old elk hill! I know that there must be many elk women\nnot far away. If any buck should desire to meet me in battle, I am\nready!\"\n\nThe lonely elk passed a wretched night. He could not forget what had\nhappened on the day before. At dawn hunger seized him, and he ate of the\nfine dew-moistened grass until he was satisfied. Then he followed the\noak ridges along the side of Smoky Hill, travelling faster as the day\nbegan to break. He thought he saw here and there a herd of elk women\nloom large through the misty air, but as the shadows vanished he\ndiscovered his mistake. At last he stood upon the summit, facing the\nsunrise.\n\nThe plains below were speckled far and wide with herds of antelope and\nof bison. The Big Sioux River lazily wound its way through the beautiful\nelk land. He saw five teepees upon a rich plain almost surrounded by a\nbend of the river, and not far away there grazed a great band of elk\nwomen, herded apparently by a noble buck.\n\nThe heart of the lonely one leaped with gladness, and then stung him\nwith grief and shame. He had not heard one elk-call that year as yet. It\nwas time. Something told him so. It would not break the elk's custom if\nhe should call.\n\nHis blood arose. His eyes sparkled and nostrils dilated. He tossed his\nbranchy, mighty antlers and shook them in the air, he hardly knew why,\nexcept that it was his way of saying, \"I dare any one to face me!\"\n\nHe trotted upon the very top of Smoky Hill. The air was fresh and full\nof life. He forgot at that moment everything that had passed since his\nmother left him, and his mind was wholly upon the elk people who were\ngathered there below him in a glorious band. He felt that he must now\ncall, and that his voice should sound the beginning of the elk-calling\nof that season upon the Big Sioux.\n\nFlying Bee had notified his fellow-hunters by means of a small mirror of\nthe presence of a grizzly in their midst, and each one was on the alert.\nSoon all had located him, and moved to a point of safety. They preferred\nto see him attack the herd rather than one of themselves, and they were\ncertain that the monarch of the Big Sioux would give him a pitched\nbattle. He was the protector of every doe in his band, and he had\ndoubtless assured them of that when he took them into the herd.\n\n\"Whoo-o-o-o!\" a long, clear whistle dropped apparently out of the blue\nsky. A wonderful wave of excitement passed through the great herd. Every\ntobacco-leaf-shaped ear was quickly cast toward Smoky Hill. The monarch\nat once accepted the challenge. He stepped in front of his elk women and\nlifted his immense head high up to sniff the morning air. Soon he began\nto paw and throw up the earth with his fore and hind hoofs alternately.\n\nJust then the second call came--a piercing and wonderful love-call! The\nwhole band of elk women started in the direction of the challenger.\nEvery one of them gave the doe's response, and the air was filled with\ntheir stamping and calling.\n\nThe monarch started to intercept them in great rage and madness. The\nhunters all ran for the nearest tall trees from which they might witness\nthe pending duel, for they knew well that when two of these rulers of\nthe wilderness meet at this season it can be for nothing less than a\nbattle to death. As Bee settled himself among the boughs of a large ash\nthat stood well up on the brow of the river-bank, he easily commanded\nthe scene.\n\nHe saw the challenger standing upon the highest point of Smoky Hill. In\na moment he descended the slope and ran swiftly to the level of the\nplain. Here he paused to give the third challenge and the love-call--the\ncall that the Indian youth adopted and made their own.\n\nAgain the elk women were excited and stamped their hoofs. The monarch\nnow let them alone, and started on a run to meet the challenger. Bee\ncould not restrain himself; he had to give a sympathetic whoop or two,\nin which his fellows willingly joined. The elk paid no attention, but\nwhen old grizzly found that he was among many warriors, he retreated to\nan adjoining creek to hide.\n\nThe challenger saw his adversary coming, and he hurried forward without\na pause. The elk women were thrown into the greatest confusion, and even\nthe five warrior-hunters became much excited, for they always admired a\nbrave act, whether the performer were a man like themselves or one of\nthe four-footed folk.\n\nWhen the monarch saw that the challenger was in earnest, he took up his\nposition in front of his herd. On came the other, never pausing after\nthe third call. When he was within a hundred paces, the monarch again\nadvanced, and the two came together with a great clash of mighty\nantlers. Both trembled violently for an instant; then each became tense\nin every muscle of his body as they went into action.\n\nNow one was pushed bodily along for some distance, and now the other was\npressed back. At one time both kneeled down and held each other fast\nwith locked horns. Again they were up and tugging with all their\nstrength. The elk women were excitedly calling and stamping in a circle\naround their lovers and champions, who paid no heed to them.\n\nAt last the monarch made a rush with all the strength that was left him.\nHe turned the body of the challenger half-way round. Quick as a flash he\npulled off and jabbed three prongs of his horns deep into the other's\nside. But, alas! at that moment he received an equal wound in his own\nbody. Exhausted by loss of blood, they soon abandoned the contest. Each\nwalked a few steps in an opposite direction, and lay down, never to rise\nagain!\n\nAll of the hunters now descended and hurried to the spot, while the elk\nwomen fled in a great thunder of hoofs. They wished to give to the two\ncombatants a warrior's homage.\n\nThe challenger was already dead. The monarch was still living, but his\nlife was ebbing so fast that he did not even notice their approach.\n\nFlying Bee held his filled pipe toward the fallen king. \"Let thy spirit\npartake of this smoke, Hehaka!\" he exclaimed. \"May I have thy courage\nand strength when I meet my enemy in battle!\"\n\nIt is the belief of the Indian that many a brave warrior has the spirit\nof a noble animal working in him.\n\nThe five hunters were so greatly touched by this event that they\nreturned to camp empty-handed out of respect for the brave dead. They\nleft handfuls of cut tobacco beside each of the elk, and Black Hawk took\noff one of the two eagle feathers that he always wore and tied it to the\nmonarch's head.\n\n\n\n\nWild Animals from the Indian Stand-point\n\n\n\"Tula, tula, kola, the game is plentiful--once more the flats of the\nCheyenne are covered with buffalo--winter is still at a distance and all\nis well!\"\n\nThus laughingly exclaimed old Hohay as he approached the teepee of\nSheyaka, a renowned hunter of the Sioux.\n\n\"Ugh, you are all here, even Kangee and Katola. What is in your minds?\"\nhe continued, as he entered and took his seat.\n\n\"Ho, brother-in-law, it is good of you to join us. We are merely\nenjoying our smoke,\" replied the genial host. \"Ah, you are still the\ncoyote that you were in your younger days! Smoke never entered your\nnostrils without drawing you as by a rope. But now that you are here you\nmust decide between us. Kangee maintains that the doe never fights. I\nhave said that she has been known to defend herself even more fiercely\nthan her brother,\" urged Sheyaka.\n\n\"It is agreed by all our hunters that you have studied the ways of the\nanimals more closely than any of us,\" chimed in Kangee. \"Of course, we\nhave all heard the traditions of the old hunters as they have been\nhanded down from our fathers, but the things that we ourselves have seen\nand known are straight and strong in our minds as a newly made arrow,\"\nhe added.\n\nHohay had been pulling silently at his long-stemmed pipe, but in a\nminute he passed the pipe on to Kangee and tightened the robe about his\nknees to get himself into a story-teller's attitude, for he had no idea\nof dismissing this favorite subject in a few words.\n\n\"We must remember,\" he began, slowly, \"that the four-footed people do\nnot speak after our fashion. But what of that? Do we not talk with our\neyes, lips, fingers? Love is made and murder done by the wink of an eye\nor by a single motion of the hand. Even we ourselves do not depend\naltogether upon speech for our communication with one another. Who can\nsay that they have not a language?\"\n\n\"Ho, ho, henaka,\" interrupted Kangee. \"I will help you a little here,\ngood Hohay! It is well known that the alarm-call of the loon, the crane,\nand the wild goose is understood by all of the winged people that swim\nthe lakes. This is not all. Many of the four-footed people of the woods\nknow it as well. It often happens when I hunt water-fowl that one gives\nthe alarm and immediately all the ducks will swim out, away from the\nshore. Those that cannot swim crouch down to conceal themselves, and\neven small animals stealthily and swiftly dodge back into the woods. Yet\nthe same birds' love and play calls were not heeded nor did they disturb\nthe peace, although they were at times very noisy and talkative.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho,\" they all said.\n\n\"Tadota and I,\" continued Kangee, \"once saw a doe call to her fawn to\nlie down and hide. It happened in this way. We were hunting up a ravine\nand came upon the doe and fawn about a hundred paces apart. They were\nboth standing to graze, as it was early in the evening. As soon as the\ndoe saw us she gave her warning call, which usually causes the fawn to\nrun toward her. But in this case the little creature dropped instantly\ninto the tall grass. After we had shot the doe we came up to her, but\nshe lay perfectly still and refused to rise. I may be wrong, but I\nbelieve the doe told the fawn to drop.\n\n\"I have also seen a doe and fawn playing,\" he went on, \"when plainly the\nmother directed her young to leap a stream which she herself had just\ncrossed. The fawn was timid and would not jump. Three times the doe\ncalled, pounding the ground with her fore-foot. At last she sprang back\nand caressed the fawn with her nose and stood with her a little while,\nand then once more leaped the stream. The young fawn came to the very\nedge of the bank and nervously smelled and examined it. Meanwhile the\ndoe called emphatically, and finally the little one jumped. So I think\nthere is good ground for saying that the wild animals have a language to\nwhich we have not the key.\"\n\n\"Kangee is right,\" spoke up Sheyaka.\n\n\"Ugh,\" said Katola, who had not spoken before. \"He has made the doe and\nfawn real people. They can neither speak nor reason,\" added the\ndoubter, \"and the fawn hides because it is its nature to hide, not\nbecause the mother has instructed it.\"\n\n\"Hun-hun-hay!\" exclaimed Hohay, who was older than the other three. \"The\nanimals do teach their young, and the proof is that the young often fail\nto perform the commonest acts of their parents when captured very early\nand kept by man. It is common knowledge among us that the buffalo calf\nand fawn have refused to swim when tamed, and do not run swiftly and\nwell as when trained by the mother, and, in fact, have no disposition to\nrun when let loose with the prairie before them.\n\n\"Again, it is well known that all elk are not equally good runners. Some\nof them we could run down on foot and that shortly, while others try the\nstrength of the best running horse, all in the same season of the year\nand even in the same herd. It looks to me as if some mothers were better\ntrainers than others.\n\n\"This training is very important, because wild life is a constant\nwarfare, and their lives often depend upon their speed in flight. The\nmeat-eating animals, too, must be in good trim, as they are compelled to\nchase their game daily.\n\n\"The bear is one of the hardest trainers among the wild mothers. In the\nmidsummer moon she gives them a regular trial-heat. It is an unlimited\nrun, only measured by the endurance of the mother. The poor cubs drop\nout of the race one by one, whenever one is winded. But in case one\nholds out, he remains with her in the same den during the following\nwinter. That is the prize of the victor.\"\n\n\"Who has seen or killed the mother-bear in the winter with a single\ncub?\" asked Katola.\n\n\"I have seen it,\" replied Hohay.\n\n\"And I also,\" added Sheyaka.\n\n\"But I still do not believe that they teach their young, like the Red\npeople,\" Katola said. \"Some run better than others because they are\nstronger, not because of their better training.\"\n\n\"Sheyaka wants to hear about the doe,\" resumed Hohay, \"but I have talked\nmuch on other points so as to get my mind fairly on the trail. The doe\nis the most sensitive animal of all that man hunts. She is the woman in\nevery way, depending upon her quickness and cunning in hiding and the\nturns she takes in her flight. Perhaps she has the best nose and ears of\nall animals, but she has a very small idea of the hunter's acuteness.\nShe knows well the animal hunters, who can smell and run, but of man she\nknows little, except that, though clumsy, he is dangerous.\n\n\"This delicate little squaw can fight desperately when she is cornered\nor in defence of her young. She has even been known to attempt the life\nof a man under those circumstances! But, Sheyaka, it is time to smoke,\"\nsaid the wild philosopher at this point.\n\n\"Ho, koda, chandee ota,\" replied Sheyaka, as he graciously produced the\nfinely cut tobacco and willow bark. \"Katola, you have a good voice; sing\nus a hunting song,\" added the good-natured host.\n\n\"Ho, ho,\" the company spoke in approval of the suggestion.\n\nKatola gave them a song without words, the musical, high-pitched\nsyllables forming a simple minor cadence, and ending with a trill. There\nwas a sort of chorus, in which all the men joined, while Katola kept\ntime with two sticks, striking one against the other, and Washaka, the\nlittle son of the host, danced in front of them around the embers of the\ncentral fire. The song finished, the pipe was silently smoked, passed\nand re-passed around the circle.\n\nAt last old Hohay laid it aside, and struck a dignified attitude, ready\nto give the rest of his story.\n\n\"Katola is right in one way,\" he admitted. \"He cannot be blamed for\nhaving never seen what has been witnessed by other hunters. We believe\nwhat we ourselves see, and we are guided by our own reason and not that\nof another. Stop me when I tell you a thing hard to believe. I may know\nit to be true, but I cannot compel you to believe it.\"\n\nKangee could not contain himself any longer, but exclaimed:\n\n\"I have even known the coyote to make her pups carry and pile the bones\nof the buffalo away from their den!\"\n\n\"Ugh, ugh!\" responded the old man. \"You compel me to join Katola. That\nis hard to prove, and while the coyote is a good trainer and orderly,\nand it is true that their old bones are sometimes found outside the\nden, I have never before heard that she makes the little ones pile them.\nI am not willing to put that into my bag of stories.\n\n\"Now, as to the ability of the doe to fight. When I was a boy, I hunted\nmuch with my father. He was a good coyote--he trained well and early.\nOne spring we were living in the woods where there was very little game,\nand had nothing to eat but musk-rats. My father took me with him on a\nlong deer-hunt. We found a deer-lick beside a swollen pond. The ground\nwas soft around the pond, with reeds and rushes.\n\n\"'Here we shall wait,' said my father.\n\n\"We lay concealed in the edge of the woods facing a deer-path opposite.\nIn a little while a doe appeared on the trail. We saw that she was in\nfull flight, for her tongue was protruding and she breathed hard. She\nimmediately waded out to the middle of the pond and stood with only her\nhead out of water.\n\n\"On her trail a large gray wolf came running, followed by his mate. The\nfirst, without hesitation, swam out to the doe. She reared upon her\nhind-feet as he approached, raising both of her front hoofs above the\nwater. The wolf came on with mouth wide open and grinning rows of teeth\nto catch her tender throat, but her pointed hoofs struck his head again\nand again, so rapidly that we could not count the blows, which sounded\nlike a war-club striking against a rock. The wolf disappeared under the\nwater.\n\n\"Just at this moment the other wolf emerged from the rushes and hastened\nto the assistance of her mate. The doe looked harmless, and she swam up\nto her. But the same blows were given to her, and she, too, disappeared.\nIn a little while two furry things floated upon the surface of the pond.\n\n\"My father could not restrain his admiration for her brave act; he gave\na war-whoop, and I joined him heartily.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho! You did not shoot the doe, did you?\" they asked.\n\n\"If we did that, we would be cowards,\" replied the story-teller. \"We let\nher go free, although we were in need of food. It was then I knew for\nthe first time that even the doe while in flight watches every chance to\nmake a good defence. She was helpless on dry land, so she deliberately\nawaited the wolves in the deep water, where she could overcome them.\nThereafter, when I hunt I keep this in my mind. My game is fully awake\nto the situation, and I must use my best efforts and all my wits to get\nhim. They think, and think well, too.\"\n\n\"It is all true,\" Kangee assented, enthusiastically. \"The buffalo is the\nwisest of all the larger four-footed people,\" he went on, \"in training\nthe young calf.\"\n\n\"Ugh, ugh! they do not train their young, I tell you!\" interrupted\nKatola, again.\n\n\"Wait until Kangee tells what he knows and then tell us your thought,\"\ninterposed Hohay. \"It is not fair to doubt the word of a fellow-hunter.\"\n\n\"I want to tell what I myself saw,\" resumed Kangee. \"Near the Black\nHills, in the early spring, we hunted the bison. My brother and I\nfollowed two cows with their small calves. They disappeared over a ridge\ninto a deep valley.\n\n\"We hastened on and saw only one cow running on the other side without\nher calf. In the ravine we came upon the other, and saw her vigorously\npush the calf down two or three times, but each time it rose again.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha! The calf refused to hide,\" they all laughed.\n\n\"When she saw us, she turned and ran on with her calf. Presently she\nentered another valley, and emerged on the other side without the little\none. At the first ravine, one cow succeeded in cacheing her calf--the\nother failed. She had a disobedient child, but finally she got rid of\nit. After a time the calf understands its mother's wishes; then she\nalways succeeds in cacheing her young when pursued.\"\n\n\"Tula, tula, kola! That is common knowledge of all hunters; surely\nKatola cannot doubt that,\" remarked Hohay.\n\n\"Not that--I only said that they do not teach them. They do these things\nwithout thought or deliberate planning,\" insisted Katola.\n\n\"But you must know that even a baby who has no mother after a while\nforgets to take the breast when one is offered to him. It is constant\nbringing to the young creature and continual practice--that is\nteaching,\" Hohay declared, and the other two nodded approval.\n\n\"Neither do I believe in a language of animals,\" Katola remarked.\n\n\"It may be there is none; but, even so, do we not convey the strongest\nmeaning without a sound or a word? In all our speeches what is most\nimportant may be expressed by a silence, a look, or a gesture--even by\nthe attitude of the body.\" Hohay continued rapidly in his argument: \"Is\nit impossible that these people might have a simple language, and yet\nsufficient for their use?\n\n\"All that a man can show for his ancestry, when he is left alone from\ninfancy, are his two legs, two arms, a round head, and an upright\ncarriage, or partially upright. We know this from those children who\nhave been found by wolves and nourished in their caves until well grown.\nThey were like beasts and without a language.\n\n\"It is teaching that keeps man truly man and keeps up the habits and\npractices of his ancestors. It is even so with the animals. They, too,\ndepend for their proper skill and development upon the mother influence,\nencouragement, and warning, the example constantly set before them which\nleads them to emulate and even surpass their elders. We Red men have no\nbooks nor do we build houses for schools, as the palefaces do. We are\nlike the bear, the beaver, the deer, who teach by example and action and\nexperience. How is it? Am I right?\" the old man appealed to his\nattentive listeners.\n\n\"Yes, yes, it is true,\" replied Kangee and Sheyaka, but Katola said\nnothing.\n\n\"Is it not our common experience,\" resumed Hohay, \"that when we kill or\ntrap one or two beaver in a night, all the beaver stay in-doors for\nseveral nights within a considerable distance? This is equally true in\nthe case of the otter and mink. I have often started up a deer, and\nevery deer he passed in his flight would also flee. But when they run at\nrandom in play they do not cause a general stampede.\n\n\"Their understanding of one another's actions is keener and quicker than\nwe can give news by words, for some are always doubters, and then we of\nthe two-legged tribe are given to lie at times, either with or without\nintention. This proves that the animal does not lack the power to give\nnews or intelligence to his family and neighbors. If this is so, then\nthey do not lack means to convey their wishes to their young, which is\nto teach them.\"\n\nThis declaration was received in silence, and, presently, Hohay added:\n\"How is it, Sheyaka? Is it commonly accepted by our hunters that some of\nthe four-footed people play tag and hide-and-seek with their little\nones?\"\n\n\"Ho, it is well known,\" responded the host. \"I have seen a black-tail\ndoe run away from her fawn and hide. When the little one ran to find\nher, calling as he seeks, she would rush upon him playfully at last from\nsome unexpected nook or clump of bushes.\"\n\n\"Once I saw a beaver,\" continued Hohay, \"send her whole family to the\nopposite side of the pond when she was about to fell a large tree. One\nof the young ones was disobedient and insisted upon following the mother\nto her work, and he was roundly rebuked. The little fellow was chased\nback to the pond, and when he dove down the mother dove after him. They\nboth came out near the shore on the opposite side. There she\nemphatically slapped the water with her tail and dove back again. I\nunderstood her wishes well, although I am not a beaver.\"\n\n\"It is the way of the beaver,\" remarked Sheyaka, \"not to allow her\nchildren to play out-of-doors promiscuously or expose themselves to\ndanger. She does not take them with her to fell trees until they are old\nenough to look out for themselves. But she brings them all out at night\nto learn the mother-tricks and trade. She is perhaps the wisest of all\nthe smaller animals.\"\n\n\"The grizzly is an excellent mother of her kind,\" suggested Kangee. \"I\nonce followed a mother bear with two small cubs. As soon as she\ndiscovered me, she hastened toward a creek heavily fringed with\nbuffalo-berry bushes. When she disappeared over the bank, I hurriedly\nfollowed to see what she would do. She had sent one of the cubs into the\nthick bushes, and a little farther on she tried to dispose of the other\nin another good place, but the cub would not obey. It came out each time\nand followed her. Suddenly she grabbed and threw it violently into a\nthicket and then ran around the creek and came out almost opposite.\nThere she watched me from under cover.\"\n\n\"Bears, wolves, and foxes,\" commented old Hohay, \"often cuff or slap\ntheir young to teach them obedience. Katola might say that the obedience\nis inborn or instinctive, but it is not. Young animals can be very rude\nand disobedient to their parents when they are small, but their mothers'\ntraining is strict and is continued until they leave them. We Red people\nhave followed their example. We teach our children to respect and obey\ntheir elders,\" concluded the old story-teller.\n\n\"The fox is a most orderly eater,\" Kangee remarked. \"Why, she will not\nallow her children to eat greedily! We know that when she finds a nest\nfull of ducks' eggs--for she is a great egg-stealer--she will drive away\nthe excited young foxes, and roll out egg after egg to each one in turn.\nEach must wait until she serves him again.\"\n\n\"When I was a young man,\" said Sheyaka, \"I have often called the fox for\nfun, when I had no intention of harming him. He is a keen and cunning\nhunter, but easy to fool when you know his weakness. I would imitate the\nsqueaking of the larger field-mouse. He never hesitates, but runs\ndirectly to the place where the noise comes from.\n\n\"Once I saw him afar off, travelling over a burnt prairie. I lay down in\nunburnt tall grass, and gave the mouse-call. He came on as if he were\nvery hungry, running at top speed, and I kept squeaking so as to make it\nseem as if there were many mice.\n\n\"When he reached the tall grass he sprang high as he came, and when he\njumped clear over me I suddenly gave a war-whoop and waved my blanket.\nYou should have seen how scared he was! He tried to turn back in mid-air\nand fell almost upon me so that I got hold of his tail. I laughed so\nhard that I could scarcely keep my hold, but the end of the matter was\nthat he left part of his fine brush with me. I wore it for a long time\nas a hunting trophy.\"\n\nThe others laughed heartily, but Katola said: \"Ugh, you were not fair\nwith him, for you invited him to a feast and then gave him such a fright\nthat he would always hate and fear his brother man.\"\n\n\"That is true; yet at times a hunter can with propriety play a joke upon\na fellow-hunter,\" declared old Hohay.\n\n\"It is strange that none of the other animals like the Igmu, the great\ncat people,\" remarked Sheyaka, as if he desired to draw out Hohay, who\nhad loosened the buffalo-robe around his loins and settled down with\nthe evident satisfaction of one who has spoken his mind upon a disputed\nquestion.\n\n\"Toh, they are to the others as Utes to the other Red men,\" he replied\nat once. \"They are unsociable, queer people. Their speech has no charm.\nThey are very bashful and yet dangerous, for no animal can tell what\nthey are up to. If one sees you first, he will not give you a chance to\nsee so much as the tip of his tail. He never makes any noise, for he has\nthe right sort of moccasins.\n\n\"Igmu scatters her family in the summer. The old pair go together; the\nyoung go singly until paired. In the winter hunting they often travel\nwithin hailing distance, but not like us, the woman following the\nwarrior. One goes up a gulch or creek while the other follows an\nadjacent creek, and they have a perfect understanding. They feed in\ncommon on the game they kill, and unite to oppose a stranger.\"\n\n\"Tell us something of the customs of the larger four-footed people, as\nthe moose, elk, and bison,\" urged Sheyaka. \"But it is time to smoke,\" he\nadded, as he passed to the old man a lighted pipe.\n\n\"Ho, ho, kola; you know an old man's weak points, Sheyaka! I was about\nto ask for the pipe, but you have read my thoughts. Is it not time for a\nsong? Can you not give us a buffalo or elk song? My stories will move\nwith more life and spirit if you bring the animal people into my\npresence with your songs.\"\n\nSo Kangee sang a buffalo song, a rude yet expressive chant, of which the\nwords went something like this:\n\n    \"Ye the nation of the west--\n      A-hay-hay-a-hay!\n    Ye the people of the plains--\n      A-hay-hay-a-hay!\n    The land is yours to live and roam in;\n    You alone are preservers of life--\n    'Tis ordained from heaven that you should preserve our lives!\"\n\n\"Oo-oo-oo-oo!\" they all joined in the yelps which are the amen of savage\nsong.\n\nHohay took one or two heavy pulls on the pipe, forcing a column of smoke\nthrough his nostrils, and handed it back to Sheyaka. He tightened the\nrobe about him once more, and his wrinkled face beamed with excitement\nand delight in his subject.\n\n\"It is from these large and noble four-footed tribes that we derive\nmany of our best customs,\" he said, \"especially from the elk and buffalo\npeople. But, boy, you have danced well! Your father dances like an old\nbear--where did you learn the art?\"\n\nThese savage jokers were highly personal, but jokes were never resented\nin their life, so Sheyaka laughed heartily and good-naturedly with the\nrest.\n\n\"The buffalo and elk people are among the noblest on earth,\" continued\nHohay, after the laugh was ended. \"The grizzly is a drunken, mad\nfighter, who attacks without reason. He is conceited because he is well\narmed, and is continually displaying his weapons. The great cat is much\nmore ready to mind his own business, but, after all, he is much of a\ncoward. The wolf warriors are brave where there is meat. All these\ncharacteristics are shown also among men.\n\n\"The buffalo and the elk fight only for their people and their country.\nThey do not hunt among other tribes, and where they live together in\nlarge numbers there are fewer quarrels than among the same number of men\ntogether. They never leave their children until they are able to take\ncare of themselves.\n\n\"They have made everything possible to us in our free life. They supply\nus with food, shelter, and clothing, and we in turn refrain from\nneedlessly destroying the herds. Their summer gatherings are the\ngrandest sight I have ever seen.\n\n\"But I must stop, friends. There is one sad thing about all this. It has\njust come into my mind. The wild man is bad enough, but there comes\nanother man--the paleface--who has no heart for what is dearest to us.\nHe wants the whole world for himself! The buffalo disappear before\nhim--the elk too--and the Red man is on the same trail. I will stop\nhere, for it brings me sad thoughts.\"\n\nHe ended, and the others dropped their heads; not a word was uttered\nafter this turn of the Red philosopher's logic. Hohay left the teepee,\nand the others followed him in silence.\n\n\n\n\nGlossary of Indian Words and Phrases\n\n\nan-pay'-tu lay wo'-yu-tay wa'-tin-kta m[=e]-che'-ch[)a] u'-yay y[=o],\nbring me food to-day.\n\nch[)a]n-dee' [=o]'-t[)a], plenty of tobacco.\n\nCh[)a]'-pa, the beaver.\n\nCh[)a]'-p[)a]-wee, the female beaver.\n\nCh[)a]p-chin'-ch[)a], the young beaver.\n\n[=e]-n[)a]'-k[)a]-nee, hurry.\n\ne-y[)a]'-y[)a] l[=o], he ran away, he is gone.\n\n[=e]-yu'-h[)a] n[)a]-hon' p[=o], hear ye all.\n\ngl[=e]-chu', come down.\n\nh[)a]n'-t[)a], look out.\n\nH[)a]'-y[)a] T[)a]nk-[)a], Big Mountain.\n\nHay'-kinsh-kah, the spoonhorn or bighorn.\n\nh[)e]'-ch[)e]-tu, it is well.\n\nH[)e]-h[)a]'-k[)a], the elk.\n\nh[)e]-h[)e]-h[)e], an exclamation of distress.\n\nh[=e]'-n[)a]-k[)a], wait.\n\nH[=e]-tunk'-[)a]-l[)a], the mouse.\n\nh[=e]-yu' y[=o], come here.\n\nH[=e]-zee', Yellow Teeth--a nickname.\n\nh[=i], h[=i], an exclamation of thanks.\n\nH[)i]n-h[)a]n', the owl.\n\nH[)i]n'-p[=o]-h[)a], Curly Hair--nickname for yearling buffalo cow.\n\nH[)i]n-t[=o]'-l[)a], Blue Hair.\n\nh[=o], yes--denotes approval, or a salutation.\n\nH[=o]'-hay, Assiniboine.\n\nHoo'-tay, Claws or Stubby Claws--nickname for a bear.\n\nHoo'-yah, the female eagle.\n\nho-y[)a]', run of fish.\n\nh[=o]-yay, come on, let us do it.\n\nhu'-k[)a]-hay', come on.\n\nh[)u]n-h[)u]n-hay', an exclamation of surprise.\n\nIg-mu'-t[)a]nk-[)a], the puma.\n\nIg-tin', Long Whiskers--a nickname for a puma.\n\n[)i]n ah'-jin, stop or stand still.\n\nK[)a]m-d[=o]'-k[)a], Slaps the Water--nickname for a beaver.\n\nK[)a]n-gee', the raven.\n\nK[)a]-t[=o]'-l[)a], Knocks.\n\nk[=o]-l[)a], or koda, friend.\n\nkoo'-wah yay y[=o], come here.\n\nM[)a]-k[=e]'-z[=e]-t[)a], Smoking Earth--name of a river.\n\nM[)a]n'-[)i]-too, the wolf--abbreviation of shunk-man'-i-too.\n\nM[)a]-t[=o]', the bear.\n\nM[)a]-t[=o]'-sk[)a], White Bear.\n\nm[)a]-y[)a]'-l[)a], a steep place.\n\nm[)a]-y[)a]'-sk[)a], white cliff.\n\nMin-ne-tonk'-[)a], Great Water--name of a lake.\n\n[=O]-p[)a]'-g[=e]-l[)a], Fills the Pipe.\n\nP[)a]-d[)a]'-nee, Pawnee.\n\nP[=e]z-p[=e]z'-[)a], the prairie-dog.\n\nP[=e]z-p[=e]z'-[)a] t[)a] [=a]'-y[)a]n-p[)a]'-h[)a]-l[)a], the\nprairie-dog's herald (the owl).\n\nPtay-s[)a]n'-wee, White Cow.\n\nS[=e]'-ch[)a]n-gu, Burnt Thighs--nickname of a band of Sioux.\n\nSh[)a]-[=e]'-y[)e]-l[)a], Cheyenne.\n\nSh[=e]-y[)a]'-k[)a], the diver.\n\nShun-g[=e]'-l[)a], the fox.\n\nShun-g[=e]'-l[)a] p[)a]-hah', Fox Ridge.\n\nShunk-m[)a]n'-[)i]-too, the wolf.\n\nShunk-t[=o]'-k[)e]-chah, the wolf.\n\nSink-pay', the musk-rat.\n\nSin-t[=a]y, Tail--a nickname.\n\nSin-tay'-h[)a]-dah, Rattle Tail, the rattlesnake.\n\nSin-tay'-ks[)a], Bob-tail--a nickname.\n\nt[)a]-chin'-ch[)a]n-[)a], fawn or lamb.\n\nT[)a]-d[=o]'-t[)a], Plenty of Meat.\n\nT[)a]k'-ch[)a], the deer.\n\nt[)a]-k[=o]'-j[)a], grandchild.\n\nT[)a]-t[)a]nk'-a, the bull.\n\nT[)a]-w[)a]'-hink-pay-[=o]'-t[)a], Many Arrows.\n\ntee'-pee, lodge.\n\nT[=e]-[=o]'-l[)a], Wounded in the Lodge.\n\nt[=e]-y[=o]'-tee-pee, council-lodge.\n\nt[=o]sh, certainly, of course.\n\ntu-l[)a]', an exclamation of satisfaction.\n\ntun-k[)a]'-sh[=e]-l[)a], grandfather.\n\nUn-sp[)e]'-shnee, Don't Know How.\n\nU-p[)a]n'-[=o]-koo-tay, Elk Point; the place where elk are shot.\n\nW[)a]-coo'-tay, Shoots.\n\nW[)a]-d[=e]'-t[)a]-k[)a], Brave.\n\nW[)a]k-p[)a]'-[=e]-p[)a]k-sh[)a]n, Bend of the River.\n\nW[)a]k-p[)a]'-l[)a] sh[=e]'-ch[)a], Bad River.\n\nW[)a]m-be-lee', the eagle.\n\nW[)a]sh-[)a]'-k[)a], strong.\n\nW[)a]sh-tay', good.\n\nW[)a]-su'-l[)a], Little Hail.\n\nW[)a]-zee'-yah, the god of cold or winter; the north.\n\nW[=e]-chah', the raccoon.\n\nW[=e]-chah'-t[)a]-wee', February--the coon's month.\n\nW[=e]'-t[)a]-[=o]'-t[)a], Lake of Many Islands.\n\nwoo, woo, a war-whoop.\n\nw[=o]'-p[)a]-t[)a], place of killing or dressing game.\n\nZ[=e]-chah', the squirrel.\n\nZu'-y[)a], warrior.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\nTranscriber's Notes: (Cont'd)\n\n4. Minor punctuation and hyphenation inconsistencies have been corrected\n   without comment.\n\n5. Typographical corrections:\n\n   p. 75, \"Wazeeyah\" to \"Wazeyah\" (3) (Wazeyah, the god of storm)\n   p. 205, \"Tawahinkpeota\" to \"Tawahinkpayota\" (4) (Tawahinkpayota\n           came forth).\n\n6. Word variations:\n\n   \"bobtailed\" (1) and \"bob-tailed\" (1)\n   \"Hun, hun, hay!\" (2) and \"Hun-hun-hay!\" (1)\n   \"mountain lion\" (1) and \"mountain-lion\" (1)\n\n7. Frontispiece Illustration facing the Title Page has been relocated to\n   directly below the Title Page.\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Red Hunters and the Animal People","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":47421}