When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“The moon was staring low over the edge of the world. I was shivering in my blanket by the embers. Day was coming and the butte was dark against it.

“When we had eaten what was left of the meat, it was time to go up into the butte. Many wanted to go first, but Kicking Bear, High Horse, and I had started the party, so they let us go. Charging Cat did not say anything. He just came along the way a dog does.

“The others were waiting to see what would happen. And we crawled up over the rocks that the Crows had piled in the opening. There was nobody. So we climbed on up a crooked way among rocks. Sometimes we crawled, then we would lie flat and listen. There was nothing. When we were nearly up the butte, we could see the others waiting, so we waved to them and they started up. The top of the butte was broader than we thought, and almost flat. Some brush grew here and there, and at the far end there were some crooked little trees half dead. We stood and stared around. There was nobody. There was a hawk floating high in the morning. We came to the little trees that were half dead at the far end of the butte top, and looked over. There was a wall of rock straight down to a slope at the bottom. A many-knotted rawhide rope was hanging there, and we saw that it was tied around the thickest little tree.

“The others were running about the butte top, looking down over the steep sides and staring around. When they saw the knotted rawhide rope hanging, some were angry and wanted to follow; but there were more who laughed. Some could not believe all of the story the rope told. How could a horse get down there? Somebody said he just made himself some wings and flew. So it ended in laughing.

“I was almost an old man when I heard all about that night on the butte top. It was long after we had all settled down on reservations, and some of us went over to visit the Crows. There were two old men there who had the ends of their right forefingers cut off, and they were in that party. It was a holy man who told the other Crows how to get away. First he prayed to Wakon Tonka for help, and if help came and they all got home, each man would cut off his forefinger as an offering. Then he told them to cut up their robes in broad strips and tie these together. When this was done, they let two men down over the cliff. If these saw anybody, they would jerk twice on the rope and the others would pull them up again. If there was nobody down there, they would jerk once. After a long while, the two men jerked once, for they had been crawling around and they had seen what we were doing on the other side of the butte. Then the Crows on the butte tied the horse’s legs together and let him down over the side with the rope sliding through a crotch of the thickest half-dead tree. There were thirty-two in the party, so there were thirty holding the rope. That was when the holy man with his dog began to mourn so loud. He mourned until most of the men were down too, and then he began the death-song to keep us watching over there while the main party was getting away with the horse. When he stopped singing, two who were left let him down with his dog; then they climbed down with their hands on the rope and their feet against the cliff. It was a good joke on us, and we laughed as friends with the old Crows who told the story.

“But that was many snows afterwards. We had lost our Crows, and, anyway, we were going against the Shoshonis over by the mountains. We traveled two more sleeps, but now we were careful, for it was enemy country. Scouts went before us and behind us, also on our right and left. It was a good country for game and our scouts killed plenty of meat with their bows.

“When we were camping the third time after the Crows fooled us, I awoke in the night. There was no moon. The still dark was soft and full of whispers. Snow was falling thick and the embers of our fire made spitting sounds. I put more wood on, and that wakened Kicking Bear and High Horse. Charging Cat was snoring. If there was no fighting or eating to do, he could sleep. We talked about the snow. It was going to be hard for us, but we were men, and the Shoshonis would not be looking for us in deep snow. Kicking Bear said, ‘Dho, it will be hard for us, and the Shoshonis will not expect us. But we are only men and we shall need help if this snow falls deep. Last time we made an offering and came back safe with seventy-five horses; but there was no snow. We must make an offering.’

“Our camp was in the brush by a creek, and there was a hill not far away. We could not see it, but we knew it was there and that is where the three of us went. Charging Cat was snoring, so we did not bother him. What came to us would come to him also. On top of the hill we raised our hands and our faces to where the sun goes down, for from thence comes the power to make live and to destroy. We wanted to live and to destroy our enemies. Kicking Bear had his pipe and he prayed, offering it to the power we needed. If we came home safe with many horses, we would give them all away. Only a few we would keep maybe, for hunting and war. Also, if we should win a great victory, we would dance again, piercing our flesh. When Kicking Bear had prayed, we said, ‘hetchetu aloh,’ and waited awhile with our hands and our faces to the dark sky, so that the power would go into us. All around us we could hear the still night whispering, and the snow was wet on my face. Then we left the pipe on the hill with the mouthpiece towards the sunset, and went back to where the lights of the low fires looked fuzzy in the snowfall.

“When we had eaten in the morning and were walking again, the snow was three hand-breadths deep, and still it fell and whispered. The air was getting colder and the snow fell finer and finer until it was like white dust. It stopped before we made a camp, and the sun looked out when it was setting. We thought our prayer was heard on the dark hill and our offering accepted.

“We had not seen any Shoshonis, but we knew we were in their country. They would be staying in their winter camps and the snow would help, for they would not be wandering about. Next day was dark with clouds and the wind was changing. We walked slowly, waiting for what our scouts might see. There would be a puff of wind and the snow would whirl about our feet and slide along the ground like snakes—shosho—shosho. Then it would be still; then it would blow again and stop.