When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“I will tell you a little story to show how it was in the old days before the sacred hoop was broken. Once there was a great chief, a wichashita nacha, and although he was still strong like a bear, he was not young any more; and the people listened to his words for he was wise. This old chief had taken a young woman who was very good to see, and he was so fond of her that people talked about it and smiled behind their hands; but they felt kind when they smiled. And I think the young woman liked the chief because he was so good to her, but maybe she was only proud because his power was so great. And afterwhile there was a young warrior who was very brave, and also very good to see; and these two looked upon each other until they could see nothing else at all. So they ran away together far from the village; and the people talked and talked, wondering what the chief would do. And this is what he did.

“When he had called an akichita, he said: ‘Go find this man and woman wherever they are and bring them here to me.’ It was done as he had spoken. And when at last the two stood before him in the tepee okige, for they had hidden far away to be alone together, they were so afraid that they could hardly stand. But the old chief smiled at them and said: ‘Sit down beside me here, and do not be afraid. No law is made against your being young, and, if there were, I broke it long ago.’

“So the young woman sat upon his left, and on his right the other. And when the three had sat thus very still for a long while, just looking at the ground, the old chief spoke to the akichita: ‘Bring here to me my best buffalo runner, the young sorrel with the morning star on his forehead.’ And when this was done, he took the end of the horse’s lariat and placed it in the hands of the young man on his right. Then he said: ‘Give me my bow and arrows yonder’; and these also he placed in the young man’s hands.

“Then he turned to where the young woman sat weeping with her face in her hands, and what he did then was very hard for him to do.

“They tell it he was very gentle while he undid the long braids of the young woman, who was weeping harder now. And when her hair was hanging all loose down her back and she was just a girl again, he took a comb and combed it gently. Over and over he combed it, until it was all smooth and shining like the bend of a crow’s wing in the sun. Then with great care he parted it and braided it again, doing this very slowly. And when the braids were tied, he took the woman’s hand and placed it in the hand of him who sat upon the right. ‘Go now,’ he said, ‘and be good people.’ Some tell it there were tears upon his face, but others that he kept them in his breast. I do not know.

“All this was many snows ago, before the sacred hoop was broken, and when people still were good.”

VI
Chased by a Cow

The old man chuckled after one of his long silences. “Yes,” he said, “I wondered if the great voice was angry when it called to me on the pointed hill. But my grandfather was not angry about the pipe, and maybe the great voice was not either. I thought and thought about this. Maybe that was the only voice Wakon Tonka had, and it only sounded angry because it was so big. Maybe it was cheering me for making the offering.

“Everybody was getting ready for the big hunt, and something wonderful was going to happen. I might even get a cow, a lame one; and then everybody would praise me. Anyway, it would be a calf—one that got lost, maybe in a draw to one side away from the herd. When I had killed it, I would find my mother and grandmother, and they would come and butcher it. Then we would pack the meat on Whirlwind, and when we came into the village with the meat, people would notice and my grandmother would tell the other old women: ‘See what my grandson did, and he is going to give it all to the old people.’

“The scouts had gone out to look for a bison herd over towards where the sun comes up, and one day the criers went about the village, calling: ‘Make moccasins for your children! Look after the children’s moccasins!’ And that meant to be ready, for we were going to move. Then early next morning the criers went around, calling: ‘Councilors, come to the center! Councilors, come to the center and bring your fires!’ They did this because in the old days a long time ago, the people had no matches or flint and steel. They could make fire another way in dry rotten wood by rubbing sticks together, but that was hard and could not always be done. Fire was sacred then, and had to be kept alive when the people moved. Then when they camped again, everybody came to the center and got fire for their own tepees. They did not have to do it this time, but it was part of living in a sacred manner, and that was good for the people.