“He has gone into a trance,” said one of the others. “He is even now in the spirit world. Do not touch him.”
For a long time the messenger lay as if dead and no one dared disturb him. My chief sat smoking, patiently waiting for Kicking Bear to speak. At last he came to life again and sat up. “I have seen the Father,” he said, with shining face, “and he has given me a sign. He has made my left hand stronger than the strongest man. Come and see!” He held out his hand and my father took it, but it scared him and he flung it away from him. It made his muscles contract and his flesh sting as if needles had been thrust into it. Then The Bear cried out: “See! I am telling the truth. I have seen the Messiah. He has given me an arm of power for a sign. He told me to return and teach The Sitting Bull the new religion.” He laid hold of a heavy white cup. “See the sign?” he cried, and ground the cup to pieces on his hand.
The Sitting Bull was deeply troubled. “We will talk of this to-morrow,” and he went away profoundly stirred by what he had seen.
The next morning he called a council of his close friends, and at last sent for Kicking Bear, and said: “Your story is sweet in our ears. It may be true. I do not think so, but we will try. We have come to the time when all weapons are useless. We are despairing and weak. Guns are of no avail. The Great Spirit has certainly turned his face away. It may be that prayer and song will cause him to smile upon us again. You may teach us the dance.”
X
THE DANCE BEGINS
So it was that in the prepared soil of my people’s minds this seed of mystery fell. It was not a new religion; it was indeed very old. Many other races had believed it; the time was come for the Sioux to take it to themselves. In their despair they greedily seized upon it. In their enforced idleness they welcomed it.
Swiftly the news flew, wildly exaggerated, of course. It was said that the Messiah had sent a message direct to the chief, and that a sign had been given to the courier which had convinced my father and many others—though The Sitting Bull yet doubted.
Uncapappas are like any other folk. There are excitable ones and doubting ones, those who believe easily and those who are disposed to prove all things. Many old women with sons and daughters lately passed to the spirit land laid hold upon this news with instant belief. Winter was coming again; food was scarce; the children were ailing; life was joyless and held no promise of happier things. So, as among the white people, the bereaved were quick to embrace any faith which promised reunion.