“The old man answered them and said, ‘Why do you do nothing except sit about the fire and eat food which your brother has killed? If you wish names go to war, and when you come back, if you have done well and killed enemies and counted coups, you, too, shall have names.’
“So the young men went back to the lodge, and each asked his wife to make him some moccasins and a war sack, and they made themselves some war arrows and started.
“They were gone a long time. Sĭks´ ĭ kā killed many buffalo, and the women dried the meat and tanned the hides. The berries grew ripe, and the women cut down the sarvice bushes and beat off the fruit over a robe spread on the ground and dried the berries. Then the tops of the mountains became white with snow, the leaves fell. From the north came the wild fowl, the swans, geese and ducks, and their numbers covered the surface of the prairie lakes, while their cries were heard night and day through the air. Then the wild fowl passed on, the snow fell and melted and fell again, and it was winter. After a long time black winds began to blow from the west and the snow disappeared. Then again the wild fowl were seen. Then the Thunder shouted, bringing the rain, so that the berries might grow large and sweet. Then the grass began to spring, the prairie to turn green, and soon it was summer.
“One night, a year after the young men had gone away, as they sat about the fire in the lodge, they heard the dogs bark and presently the door was lifted and the second son stepped in and sat down. His robe was thin and all his clothing worn by long travel, but his body was lean and hard. The women hurried and set food before him, and while he ate they sang songs about him, telling how brave he was and how he had traveled far to strike his enemies. After he had eaten the old man filled the pipe and smoked and passed it to his son, who spoke, and told of his journeyings to far-off lands and among strange people, and how he had struck his enemies and all that he had done.
“After he had finished the old man said to him, ‘My son, you have done well and since you have killed many chiefs, let that be your name, Ah´ kāi nāh’ (many chiefs). So after that the second son and his children and their children were called Ah´ kāi nāh, but now they call them Kāi´nāh.
“Another season passed, the berries ripened, the leaves fell, the water fowl came and went; it was winter. Then again the Thunder spoke, and again the grass grew. The wife of the third son thought much about her husband, fearing that she would not see him again. She used to talk of him to her children, telling them that they ought to be brave like their father.
“One night in summer, when all in the lodge were asleep, the dogs barked loudly, the lodge door was lifted and a person entered and sat down by the fire. ‘Who is there?’ said the old man. There was no answer. Then the wife of the third son rose from her bed and spread grass on the fire, and soon it blazed up and she saw sitting there her husband. Glad then was her heart, and quickly she built the fire and gave him food, and as he ate, she looked at him and saw that his clothing was torn and ragged, his face thin and his arms and breast scarred, but from his quiver hung scalps, and on the ground beside him was a bundle. Then she began to sing about him and the others in the lodge arose and sat by the fire while he ate. After he had eaten and smoked, he said to the old man, ‘I have traveled far and I have seen many people. Look at these scalps,’ and he showed them the scalps and the bundle of strange clothing that he had taken from enemies far to the south. He told them all that he had seen and done, and after he had finished speaking his father said to him, ‘Because you have taken this strange clothing you shall be called Pī kŭn´ ni’ (garments), so since that time he and his children’s children have been called Pī kŭn´ ni.”
“That’s a bully story, Joe,” exclaimed Jack, after the tale was ended, and Hugh joined in and said, “So it is, a mighty good story, but I reckon it’s just a story and nothing else. I’ve always heard, like Joe said a little while ago, that the people came from up north and I’ve always believed that they were relations of the Crees. I’ve often wondered, though, about how the tribes got their names. There are lots of stories, but none of them seem to ring true. Now this word Pī kŭn´ ni for Piegans, I’ve always believed came from Ap´ ĭ kŭn nĭ, which means a badly tanned robe, one with white spots on it. Isn’t that so, Joe?”
“Yes,” said Joe, “that’s so all right, and you know Ap´ kŭn nĭ is a common name in the tribe to-day. There are two or three Indians and one white man that have that name. This story says that Ah´ kāi nāh has been shortened to Kainah, and if that is so why shouldn’t Ap´ ĭ kŭn nĭ have been shortened to Pi kun ni. Then the name of my tribe would mean a robe with hard white spots in it.”
“Of course it would,” said Hugh, “and I believe that’s what it does mean, but I don’t know that we’ll ever find out for sure.