“Ugh, I am not a man; you had better ask your uncle. Besides, you should know it yourself by this time. You are now old enough to think about eagle feathers.”
I felt mortified by this reminder of my ignorance. It seemed a reflection on me that I was not ambitious enough to have found all such matters out before.
“Uncle, you will tell me, won’t you?” I said, in an appealing tone.
“I am surprised, my boy, that you should fail to recognize this feather. It is a Cree medicine feather, and not a warrior’s.”
“Then,” I said, with much embarrassment, “you had better tell me again, uncle, the language of the feathers. I have really forgotten it all.”
The day was now gone; the moon had risen; but the cold had not lessened, for the trunks of the trees were still snapping all around our teepee, which was lighted and warmed by the immense logs which Uncheedah’s industry had provided. My uncle, White Foot-print, now undertook to explain to me the significance of the eagle’s feather.
“The eagle is the most war-like bird,” he began, “and the most kingly of all birds; besides, his feathers are unlike any others, and these are the reasons why they are used by our people to signify deeds of bravery.
“It is not true that when a man wears a feather bonnet, each one of the feathers represents the killing of a foe or even a coup. When a man wears an eagle feather upright upon his head, he is supposed to have counted one of four coups upon his enemy.”
“Well, then, a coup does not mean the killing of an enemy?”
“No, it is the after-stroke or touching of the body after he falls. It is so ordered, because oftentimes the touching of an enemy is much more difficult to accomplish than the shooting of one from a distance. It requires a strong heart to face the whole body of the enemy, in order to count the coup on the fallen one, who lies under cover of his kinsmen’s fire. Many a brave man has been lost in the attempt.