Sinopah, the Indian Boy

by James Willard Schultz

CHAPTER III SINOPAH AND HIS PLAYFELLOWS

It was not until Sinopah was four years old that his mother ever let him out of her sight. If she missed him for a minute, even, she would run about and find him, and keep him close to her side. White Wolf often told her that she should give the little one more freedom, but for answer she would only shake her head and reply: "You are wrong. He is very much too young to be turned loose."

So White Wolf let her have her way until Sinopah's fourth summer came, and then he said to her one day: "You have done well with this boy of ours. You have fed him good food and kept him strong and healthy. But it is not right for a boy to be long kept in the lodge; he must learn early to make a play of the things that he will have to do in earnest when he grows up. From this day on he shall go about as he pleases with the children of the camp."

"What you say to do must be done," Tsistsaki replied, "and I know that you are right. But you know how it is with us women; we are always timid. Therefore, for a time, when our son goes out to play, I will go too. At least I will be near enough to see that no harm comes to him."

Tsistsaki, I had forgotten to tell you, was the name of Sinopah's mother. In the Blackfoot language it means Little Bird Woman. That is a very pretty name and a very good one. Before her time many noted women of the tribe had borne it, and for that reason she was very glad that it had been given to her.

In the next lodge there was a little boy seven years old, named Lone Bull, and his younger sister Otaki, Yellow Weasel Woman, with whom the little Sinopah was now allowed to play, and they were very glad to have him with them. There were also many other children in that part of the camp, some of them much older than these, and often there would be twenty or thirty of them together in their different games. Better than all the rest, Sinopah liked Lone Bull and Otaki, perhaps because they lived so close to him, and then their mothers were very close friends.

The two mothers got together one day and planned what was to be a surprise for the children. Having decided, they set to work and for all of a moon's time they were very busy when the little ones were out playing. And often, when all others were asleep, they worked far into the night by the light of the little lodge fires. Another part of the work was the training of three big dogs for their share in the game; and right here I must tell you about this breed.

The Indians never had horses until they obtained them from the Spaniards, who brought some to Mexico soon after the discovery of America. Before that time, and long afterwards until these animals became plentiful in all the Western country, the Indians used dogs as pack-animals. When moving camp they were made to carry heavy bundles of household, or, rather, "lodge-hold" things, and the hunters always made them lug in big packs of meat. Long before Sinopah was born, the Blackfeet had so many horses that the dogs were no longer used; but the people loved the animals and had many of them; some lodges as many as twenty-five or thirty. They were very tall and heavy, long-haired and broad-headed, and much of the color of the wolf, to which they were very closely related. At night when the wolves howled all around the camp, the dogs would answer them; and then the people would say: "Listen! They are talking to their brothers out there on the plain."

The mothers made pack-saddles for the dogs, and got them used to being packed and led by a rawhide strand. Then one day, when the children were playing in the timber back of the lodges, they packed all the things they had made on two of the dogs, and fastened the small ends of fourteen slender pine poles to the saddle of the third dog, and made him drag them.

So, leading the dogs, they turned into the timber and soon came to where the children were playing. Sinopah was the first to notice them, and what he saw was so surprising that at first he could hardly believe his eyes, and stood staring with his little mouth wide open. And well he might; for except that they were packed dogs instead of packed horses, it was as if the women were moving camp. The first dog carried a small, new, and brightly painted parfleche, or rawhide pouch shaped like an envelope, on each side of its saddle, and piled on top, and firmly lashed with a stout rawhide rope, were several small blankets and buffalo robes. The second dog also carried two parfleches and a couple of robes, and tied on top of the pack was a small Hudson's Bay Company copper kettle. Besides dragging the lodge poles, the third dog carried a bundle that looked like a small lodge skin, and that is just what it was.