When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“Dho,” he said, regarding me with the crinkled, quizzical look; “but the meat is not the same. It has no strength in it.” He meditated awhile, gazing at the ground. Then his face brightened. “That was the time when High Horse and I killed our first bison bull,” he began, catching up the loose thread of yesterday’s narrative; “Also a young cow—fat—tender—strong meat to make a man of a boy. Thirteen winters made a man those days. It must have been the meat.

“We had plenty of bull-hides to make the watah [boats] we needed for crossing Mini Shoshay [the Missouri]. Also there were willows in plenty for making the frames. We tied these together with green rawhide thongs, and over the frames we stretched the green bull-skins tight, sewing them with strips of hide. Then we hung them up to dry in the wind and sun; and while they dried and shrank tight we rested and feasted three more days. Washtay! Good boats! Kick them—they sound like big drums! Float high in the water! Washtay!

“We put all our belongings in the boats and most of us swam, pulling them with rawhide thongs that we held in our teeth. The ponies did not give us any trouble after we got the first ones into the water; and some of us swam with our horses, so that we could catch the others when we got across.

“Our scouts had gone out while we were making boats, and they came back to our first camp beyond Mini Shoshay. They had been watching a big war party of Flatheads, Nez Percé and Absoraka [Crows] not far away, and they said we must attack as soon as we could that day and not wait for night, because the bands had not yet made camp together and were still coming up. If we waited, there would be too many for us. This was in the morning, and the sun was about straight up when we made the attack. There was a big butte close by, something like Bear Butte near Pa Sapa [the Black Hills], and we sneaked around that until we were close enough to charge. I think they did not know we were in the country, and it was a big surprise. Women were putting up tepees, children were playing anywhere, and the men were scattered around, not thinking of trouble because it was the middle of the day, and the ponies were grazing without guards. It was not much. There was no fight. We did not kill one man or count a coup. We just charged in there, waving blankets and yelling, and it was funny to see the people running here and running there all mixed up. The ponies had not had time to scatter far, and right away we got about a hundred started south on the run. When we reached the top of a ridge and looked back, we could see that we’d better hurry, because the warriors of the bands that were still coming in to camp back there were after us, and there were many.

“The sun was halfway down when we came into some hills with trees on them here and there. So we stopped to let the ponies rest; and if the enemy wanted to come and fight, we would fight right there with the trees and gullies to help us. They did come, but it was not much. Maybe they thought we had a big party waiting for us there and we meant to trap them. It was hard to see us among the brush and gullies, and they did not charge; but now and then they would see somebody and shoot, and we would shoot back. It was lazy war, and I guess they were tired too.

“High Horse and I were up in a tree with old Maza Ska [White Metal], or anyway he seemed old to us. He had a gun, but we had only bows and arrows. Sometimes we could see an enemy’s head and we would shoot at it. White Metal would make fun of our shooting, but I think he did not hit anybody either. He only made the others know where we were, so that they could shoot back; but nobody got hurt.

“Afterwhile I could feel my belly gnawing, and over beyond a low ridge I had seen some stray bison cows. So I said to High Horse: ‘Let us go over there and kill some meat, for there are no enemies that way.’ Our three ponies were tied to some brush under the tree. White Metal’s was a mare with a big colt at her side, and that is what I want to tell you about. When we got on our ponies we had to ride fast and swing low under their necks, because several of the enemy began shooting at us. We could hear old White Metal bang away up there. Even if he did make fun of us, we knew he liked us and wanted to help by keeping the enemy down. When we got over just under the low ridge, we stopped, and High Horse said: ‘Let us smoke before we kill a cow; it may help us.’ I had brought my pipe with me because it would protect me and give me power. So we sat down and smoked. When we had passed the pipe awhile, all at once there was big yelling over there beyond the low ridge, and we got up to see if the enemies were coming; and this is what we saw.

“Old White Metal’s big colt was bucking and squealing and running in circles there on the open hillside, and White Metal was riding belly-down on its back; but he was not riding the way the colt was going. He was riding backwards, holding on with his legs, and with both hands around the root of the tail. His mouth was close to where the colt was breaking wind every time it bucked, and with every jolt White Metal yelled, ‘hown hown.’ It seemed that he was arguing with whatever the colt was saying under its tail. We could hear yelling and laughing down in the brushy draw where enemies were standing up waving their arms and cheering White Metal. Our own people were standing up too, laughing and cheering: ‘Hi-ya! hoka-hey! Hold him, Kola! Bite his bottom! Don’t eat it all! Give me a piece! Hoka-hey!’

“It was not much like war.

“This is what had happened. When High Horse and I were over the ridge, White Metal thought: I will go and help the boys kill some meat, for I too am hungry. But when he started to climb down out of the tree, some enemies shot at him—bang! bang! bang!—and he was so excited that he let go and tumbled. The loose colt was right under him ready to go, and so they went together in opposite directions.