When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“Next morning we started out again for Shoshoni country. When we had slept once, we walked until the sun was high and we camped in a good place to hunt and rest, for those who had followed were more tired than we who went first. So we were eating there when the sun was just down, and a big moon was coming up. The air was sharp and it was blowing a little from the way we were going. There was a low bank along the creek on that side, and it broke the wind. Our little fires felt good, and we were not looking for enemies yet.

“But all at once—men were there on the bank looking down at us, and they were not some more Lakotas! They were Crows! The country was rough on that side and the wind was at their backs. They were going to camp where we were, and they ran right into us. My mouth was full of meat, but I forgot to chew—I think all of us forgot to chew. They were looking at us and we were looking at them. It seemed long, but I think it would have been only a breath or two, if any of us, Crow or Lakota, were breathing.”

Eagle Voice paused to stare open-mouthed. Then he clapped his hands. “Whang! One yonder yelled and sent an arrow among us. Then everybody was yelling; and there was nobody on the bank. They were running away.

“When we were up the bank, they were strung out and running fast towards a high butte yonder. There were about thirty of them, all maka mani. One was leading a horse with a pack and another was running behind, beating the horse with a bow. There was a dog, and he was running and leaping among them and yelping. Maybe he was saying, ‘Hoka hey! It’s a good day to die, brothers!’ But nobody was stopping to die. We were shooting at them by now, and one of them tumbled. Most of us just couped the man as we ran past, and some boys got the scalp. There were plenty of scalps running away yonder, and we wanted to stop them before they got to the butte.

“But they had the start and got there first. There was a way up into the butte through some big rocks, and it was narrow at the bottom where the rocks were. Most of them ran in there with the horse, while the others stopped to shoot at us. Then those ran after the others.

“It was beginning to get dark and the big moon was back of the butte yet. They had some guns too, and we shot at each other for a while; but there were many rocks around there and we were scattered out among them. It was getting dark fast, and maybe the Crows were too scared to hit anything. Between shooting we could hear them rolling rocks into the narrow way, and we knew we could not charge up in the dark. So we sent some scouts around the butte to see where the Crows could get down and run away. It was high and steep all around, and they could never get down alive, even if they left the horse.

“There was a rocky draw with brush in it not far from the narrow way up the butte, and we camped in there. The enemy could see the light of our fires, but they could not shoot at us. In the morning we would see what we could do. So we sent men back to bring the paunches and the meat from the other camping place, also the blankets and robes that we had left there. Some took turns watching the opening, and we feasted by many little fires.

“While we were eating, the big moon looked over the butte. The air was sharp without wind. When we listened, there was nothing to hear but a stick popping in a fire, maybe. When new guards went out and the others came back, they had heard nothing up there, and we wondered about this.

“Many were asleep. Charging Cat was snoring in his blanket, but Kicking Bear and High Horse and I were sitting in our blankets by a little fire. The big moon stood tall above the butte. I dozed and awoke. The moon was overhead. There was a voice up yonder in the butte, and it was mourning. Many of those who had slept, sat up and listened. Sometimes the voice was like a falling wind in a tree. Then it rose high and thin, high and sharp and thin, as high as the moon, and fell again like a wind moaning. The dog began to mourn too with a long low howl. Then he would yelp and his voice would rise high and thin, higher than the man’s, farther than the moon. Then it would be a low long howl again. Some wolves heard and sang back.

“The voice stopped mourning and the dog was still. High Horse said, ‘I think we hit somebody up there.’ And Kicking Bear said, ‘Maybe they are mourning for tomorrow while they can.’ Then the man’s voice began again, and it was singing a death-song, and the dog sang too. A guard came running, and said, ‘One is singing a death-song! Maybe they are coming down to die here!’ So we all got ready to fight. We waited and listened. The man and dog stopped singing. The moon stared and started down the sky. The air was sharp and bright and still. Afterwhile a guard came and said, ‘There is no sound up yonder. We have seen nothing move in the moonlight.’ New wood cracked on the low fires, and it was loud. Charging Cat began to snore in his blanket. Many slept. I sat and dozed.