LAME WOLF PRAYS TO HIS RAVEN
That morning I had not forgotten to sling on my telescope before leaving camp. I got it out, then took a good look at the men, and said to Pitamakan, "They don't appear to be a war party; they are all old men, and some have large packs upon their backs!"
"Ha! It is well-planned deception, but I shall take no chances with them. I am sure that the brush behind them is full of warriors!" Pitamakan replied.
I somehow believed that for once he was mistaken, and when a moment later the five men started toward us, all making the peace sign and singing a strange, quaint, melancholy song, so weird, so strangely affecting, that it almost brought tears to my eyes, Pitamakan himself said, "I was mistaken! They are men of peace! I believe that they are men of the Earth-Houses People."
We met the strangers at the foot of the slope. They continued their quaint song until we were face to face with them; then their leader, first making the sign that he was one of the Earth-Houses People, as the Blackfeet call the Mandans, embraced me and Pitamakan, and so did the others, each in his turn.
"We are glad to meet you this good day," said the leader to me in the sign language. "We have often heard about you. We know that you are the Fox, the young relative of Far Thunder. We know that your companion is the young Pikuni, Running Eagle. We have come a long way to see and talk with Far Thunder. His camp is close by, there where the two rivers meet, is it not? Yes? We are glad!"
"Our hearts are the same as yours," I replied. "We are glad to meet you this good day. Just up there we have killed an elk. Wait for us until we have butchered it and loaded the meat upon our horses; then we will go with you to Far Thunder."
The old leader signed his assent to the proposal, and Pitamakan and I hurried back up the hill to our work. We were not long at it, taking only the best of the meat; then I told Pitamakan to hurry on ahead and notify my uncle of the Mandans' coming, so that he could meet them with fitting ceremony at the barricade. I then rejoined the visitors, leading my horse and walking with them, and in the course of an hour we were greeted by my uncle at the passageway into camp. One after another they embraced him; then he signed to them that his lodge was their lodge, and he led them into it, where Tsistsaki greeted them with smiles and turned to the big kettles of meat and coffee that she was cooking for them and broke out a fresh box of hard bread.
With due formality my uncle got out his huge pipe, filled it with a mixture of l'herbe and tobacco and passed it to the old leader of the party to light. The old man capped it with a coal from the fire, muttered a short prayer, and, blowing great mouthfuls of smoke to the four points of the compass, started it upon its journey round the circle. The Mandans made no mention of the object of the visit to us, but said that, having heard from the men of the first down-river fire boat that my uncle was building a fort on the great war trail where it crossed Big River, they had thought that a visit of peace should be paid to him. In turn, my uncle asked how the Mandans were faring and told of our troubles with the Crows and Assiniboins. The news of the passing of Sliding Beaver was good news to them; they greeted it with loud clapping of hands and with broad smiles. "Far Thunder," their leader signed, "you must surely have strong medicine. The gods have been very good to you to give you the power to wipe out that terrible, bad man, worst of all the men of the cut-throat tribe. Far Thunder, for what you have done the Earth-Houses People owe you much!"
"I wish that they were all here, all your warriors, for I am expecting to have a big fight with the cut-throats!" my uncle signed.
"We have sent for the warriors of my people to hurry down here and help us, but fear that they will not arrive before the cut-throats appear," Pitamakan put in.
After some inquiries about just what we had done toward getting the help of the Pikuni, the old leader turned to my uncle. "Far Thunder," he signed, "you see us, five old men and almost useless; our weapons, five old north stone sparkers [Hudson's Bay Company flintlock guns] and four bows. But such as we are, Far Thunder, we are yours in this fight with the cut-throats, if you want us!"
"You are very generous. We will talk about that later. Just now you are to eat. I see that the food is ready for you," my uncle replied; and Tsistsaki passed to them plates piled with boiled meat, hard bread and dried-apple sauce, and huge bowls of sweetened coffee.
The men now came up from the grove for their dinner. In the afternoon our guests rested, and it was not until evening that we learned the real object of their visit to us. "Far Thunder," the old leader then signed, when we were all gathered in our lodge, "no doubt you wonder why we five old men have come the long way through dangerous country to enter your lodge. It is because we are old and are soon to die that we chose to take the place of young and useful men on a mission to you from our people, to bring you gifts and to ask a gift from you."
"Ha! Now I know what is coming; they are after Is-spai-u!" Pitamakan whispered.
"Far Thunder," the old man continued, "no doubt you know that the Spotted-Horses People [the Cheyennes] visit us every summer with their robes and furs and tanned leathers to buy some of the corn that we raise and the pots of clay that we make. Also they come to race their fastest horses against our fastest horses. Know, chief, that for the last five summers they have won every race they made with us, and have gone their way with great winnings, laughing at us and saying, 'Poor Earth-Houses People! Your horses are of little account; even the best of them are only travois horses for our women!' Thus we are made poor and greatly shamed. Recently we counseled together about this. 'We do not,' said one of the chiefs, 'much need the things that the Spotted-Horses People bring here. Let us send them word that they need not come again to trade with us; thus will we be saved from again losing all that we have in racing our horses against theirs and being told that our best animals are of no account.'
"We all agreed that this plan should be followed. Messengers were selected to take our decision to the Spotted-Horses People. And then—but wait, Far Thunder—"
The old man turned and spoke to his companions. They began to unwrap the bundles that they had carried and soon displayed to our admiring eyes a cream-white cow buffalo robe beautifully embroidered with porcupine quillwork of gorgeous colors upon its flesh side; a war suit of fine buckskin, quill embroidered and hung with white weasel skins; a fine shield fringed with eagle tail feathers; and a handsomely carved red stone pipe with feather and fur ornaments on its long stem. One by one the old leader took them as they were opened to view and impressively laid them upon the end of my uncle's couch. Then, straightening up in his seat, he continued:
"Those, Far Thunder, are gifts to you from your friends, the Earth-Houses People!
"The messengers were about to start to the camp of the Spotted-Horses People," he said, resuming his story. "Then the first fire boat of the summer came back down the river, and we learned from its men that you and yours were coming down to the mouth of this little river, to this great war-trail crossing of Big River, where you were to build a fort, and that you had with you your fast, black buffalo-runner. Again we counseled together. This is what we said: 'Far Thunder is a man of generous heart. We will go to him with our trouble; we will ask him to give the one thing that will enable us to wipe out the shame that the Spotted-Horses People have put upon us.' Far Thunder, pity us! Give us your black buffalo-runner!"
The eyes of all five of the old men were now upon my uncle, eyes full of wistful anxiety, and he hesitated not a moment to give his reply to their request, the one reply that he could make.
"My friends," he signed, "I must tell you about my black horse. A dying man gave him to me, the man who seized him in the far south country. With his last breath that man—you knew him, One Horn—asked me to promise that I would always keep the horse. I promised. I called upon the sun to witness that I would keep my promise!"
The old men slumped down in their seats in utter dejection, and oh, how sorry we were for them! Their long and dangerous journey, their gifts of their most valued possessions, were all for nothing!
Finally, the old leader spoke a few words to the others; one by one they answered, and several of them spoke at some length and with increasing animation. We wondered what they were saying, in that strange, soft-sounding language. At last the old leader turned again to my uncle.
"Far Thunder!" he signed, "when you told us of your promise to the dying man, and that it was a sun promise you gave him, not to be broken—when you told us that—our hearts died. But now, chief, our hearts rise up. Failing one thing, we gain another. We now see that the gods themselves sent us to you, that in our old age we should have one last fight with the cut-throats. Chief, we will remain with you and help you fight them with all the strength that we have left in our poor old arms. If we die, how much better to die fighting than in sickness and pain in our lodges!"
"I am glad that you will stay with us and help fight the cut-throats. These valuable things that you have laid here, you will take them back," my uncle replied.
"No! We give, but do not take back!"
It was all very affecting. There was a lump in my throat as I looked at those old men, simple-minded, kind-hearted, still eager in their old, old age to face once more their bitter enemies and, if need be, to die. Tsistsaki threw her shawl over her head and cried a little in sympathy with them. They presently broke out in a cheerful song of war.
Pitamakan and I took up our rifles and went out to our guard duty. "Those ancient ones, what real men they are!" he said to me.
The night passed quietly. In the morning when the Tennessee Twins came from guard duty in the grove and learned about our evening talk with the old men, they shook hands with them one by one. "You are the strong hearts! We shall be glad to fight alongside with you," Josh signed to them.
Cramped as we were for space within the barricade, Tsistsaki insisted that the old men should have a lodge of their own. The women set up one of the lodges of the engagés, and all contributed to its furnishings of robes and blankets and to its little pile of firewood beside the door; then the widow of poor Louis volunteered to cook their meals. Thus were the ancient ones made perfectly comfortable. At noon of that day, when the men came in for their dinner, our guests went to my uncle and told him that they wanted to help him not only in the coming fight with the cut-throats, but in other ways as well. Old though they were, their eyesight was still good; therefore they would do all the daytime guard duty, three of them in the grove and two in camp. We were glad enough to accept their offer, for, as the engagés were now entirely relieved from all share in our constant watch for approaching enemies, the work on the fort progressed rapidly.
The leader of the old men, Lame Wolf, was a medicine man and had with him his complete medicine outfit, the main symbol of which was a stuffed raven, to the legs of which were attached bits of human scalp-locks of varying lengths. To Pitamakan, who became a great favorite with him, the old man said that the raven was his dream, his sacred vision, and very powerful. It had by its great power brought him safe through many a battle with the enemy and had four times in his dreams warned him of the approach of enemies, so that he and his warriors had been able to surprise them and count many coups upon them. Every evening now he prayed the raven to give him a revealing vision of the cut-throats and any other enemies who might be approaching us, and his companions joined him in singing the songs to his medicine.
"Far Thunder, my man," said Tsistsaki, the first evening that we heard the old men praying and singing, "I feel that the gods are with us in this matter of our fort-building upon this hostile war trail. As fast as our troubles have come we have conquered them, and now come these five old men, whose leader is favored of the gods, to help us. I have great faith in his raven medicine."
"All right. You put your faith in that raven skin. I put mine in our watchfulness and in our rifles," my uncle laughed.
"Ah, well," she answered, "the day will come when your eyes will be opened to these sacred things."
During the next few days three different steamboats passed up the river en route to Fort Benton, and when the first of them came down it answered our hail and put in to shore. The captain had intended to put in, anyhow, for he had a letter to us from Carroll and Steell. My uncle handed him a letter for the Fort Union traders, asking them to tell the Mandans that their five old men were staying with us to help fight the Assiniboins, and that they were unable to get Far Thunder's fast runner because of his vow to the sun that he would never part with it. He had prepared the letter at the request of Lame Wolf, and the old man heaved a sigh of satisfaction when he saw it pass into the captain's hands.
Our letter apprised us that the Pikuni, the whole tribe, warriors and all, had forded the river at Fort Benton, on their way to us, only four days before. That news made us low-hearted, for, if the warriors continued on with the tribe at the slow rate it was obliged to travel, we feared that they would never arrive in time to help us in the big fight that every rising sun brought nearer to us.
My uncle declared that, short of logs as we still were, a beginning must be made at once upon the walls of the fort; and after dinner Pitamakan, Abbott, and I went out to assist him in laying the first four logs of what was to be the southwest corner building of the fort, the one that was to be my uncle's quarters, and Pitamakan's and mine as well. We rolled the two bottom logs into place and made them level by putting flat stones under the ends; and then Abbott, with quick and skillful axe, saddled the ends; that is, cut deep notches in them. We then rolled on them two end logs and cut notches in the ends to match the saddles in the others. The first fitted snugly down into place; the second did not fit well and was notched deeper at one end; and then, when it fitted into place and we rested, Tsistsaki, who had come to watch, raised her hands to the sky and cried out: "O sun! this home that we are starting to build, let it be a home of peace and plenty; a home of happy days and nights. Have pity upon us all, O sun. Give us, we pray you, long life upon these, your rich and beautiful plains!"
Our team horses, working all day and corralled in the barricade the greater part of the night, were rapidly losing their flesh and spirits and no longer minded the flick of the whip. It was plain enough, said my uncle at our evening meal, that they must be put upon good feed at night, or else we must soon stop work. He looked at Pitamakan and me.
"Well, say it!" I cried. "What do you want us to do about it?"
"Night-herd them. Night-herd the whole outfit, saddle-horses and all, up west on the high plains where the feed is good. Leave here after dark so that any wandering war party hanging about will not know just what way you are going or be able to follow you."
"Oh, my man!" Tsistsaki exclaimed, "I do not like them to do that. Think! Just they two against all the travelers upon this great war trail!"
"Many are the hunters of the fox; he eludes them all," said Pitamakan.
"We shall strike out with the outfit as soon as it is dark," I said to my uncle, and that settled the matter.
Of course I rode Is-spai-u when we started out, driving the loose stock ahead of us. We headed southwest—almost south up along the gentle slope, then, when well out from the valley, northwest—and finally brought the animals to a stand at the head of the breaks of the Missouri, about two miles due west from camp. We then hobbled all but two, Is-spai-u and Pitamakan's buffalo horse, which we picketed with long ropes. By turns we watched our little band during the short night and at sunrise drove them back to the barricade.
"Boys," Tsistsaki said to us after we had finished breakfast, "I have something to say to you before you sleep."
"Say it! We are all but asleep now," Pitamakan answered from his couch.
"It is this: you must not take your horses to-night to feed where you had them last night; every night you must drive them to a different place."
"As if we didn't know enough to do that! We decided upon to-night's grazing-ground when we were coming in this morning!" Pitamakan exclaimed.
"Wise almost-mother. What good care you have for us!" I told her.
And what a loving, cheerful smile she gave me! Ah, that was a woman, let me tell you!
There was too much going on in our lodge for us to sleep well; so we took a robe and a blanket apiece and sneaked quietly into the lodge of the old Mandans, who were sleeping after their night watch in the barricade.
At about four o'clock the old men aroused us, and Lame Wolf signed that they were going to bathe; would we go with them? We did, and were refreshed. Then, after we were back in the lodge and dressed, old Lame Wolf painted our faces with red-earth paint, the sacred color, and prayed for us. We could not, of course, understand what he said, for he did not accompany the prayer with signs, but Pitamakan said that made no difference; it was, of course, good and powerful prayer.
At supper that evening we talked about the big fight we were expecting to have with the Assiniboins, and wondered whether our people would arrive in time for it. It was possible that the warriors were coming on ahead, and if they were they might come riding down at any moment.
"If we could only figure the probable time of the coming of the cut-throats as well as we can that of our people!" my uncle exclaimed.
"Wal, now, Wesley, you're goin' to know what I've had in my think-box for some time; I can't keep it shut any longer," Abbott said. "We've heard that the Assiniboin camp is away off on the Assiniboin River. But you can hear a lot that ain't so. Maybe it is nowhere like that far off. Ag'in, that there war party that we routed don't have to go clear home to get help to try to wipe us out; the Assiniboins and the Yanktonnais are about the same breed of pups—both Sioux stock. All those pals of Slidin' Beaver's have to do is to let the Yanktonnais know that we have that there Is-spai-u horse with us, and they'll come a-runnin' after him, even if they don't care shucks about avengin' the death of Slidin' Beaver. I'll lay four bits that the Yanktonnais camp is a long way this side of the Assiniboin River. Let's look the thing in the face. It's possible, fellers, that the ball may open this very night!"
"Let her come; we're here first!" Josh exclaimed.
"You bet you! I'm jest a-achin' for a scrap with those cut-throats!" his twin chimed in.