When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“When White Metal was right in front of us, the colt stopped short, went straight up in the air, hump-backed, and whirled as it came down stiff-legged. That was the end of the ride, and the colt made off for its mother, still bucking and squealing. White Metal came limping up to High Horse and me, and when he had wiped the blood and dust from his mouth, he began poking us in the ribs, saying: ‘That’s right! Laugh! Laugh! It’s funny! Don’t be serious! Why don’t you laugh?’ And we did not quit laughing, for the rib-tickling and the fun of it, until the enemies began shooting at us again from the brush down there.

“We did get a fat cow before the sun went down, and late in the night we started for Mini Shoshay with the ponies. When the morning star was up and day was just beginning, we came to a small round valley with steep sides and only one easy way to get in. So we drove the herd in there, and Crazy Horse told us all to get a good sleep. He would watch at the opening to the valley, and if the enemy came he would waken us and we would stay right there and fight, no matter how many there might be. But no enemy came; and when it was dark we started again for the river where we had left our boats hanging in some brush.

“There was no victory dance when we got home, because we had no scalps and had not counted coup. Nobody said much about our war party. We lost about half the captured ponies on the way back; and that was not enough for thirty-seven warriors to sing about. High Horse and I each got a pony—not very young ones.

“No, it was not much, but we boys had a good time, and we learned. After that we could not talk about anything but going to war. We did go to war after High Horse went crazy.”

“Did he really go crazy?” I asked.

“It is a story,” the old man answered, chuckling; “and I will tell you how it was with him, and why we made war against the Crows that time.

“I was often at the Miniconjou village with my brother-friend, and sometimes I would see Tashina Wanblee over there. She was getting to be a big girl, and she was very pretty. I could see that she still liked me and that she wanted me to talk to her; but High Horse and I were going to be great warriors and we did not want to be bothered with girls. Once I came upon her down by the creek when she was getting water for her mother. She looked up at me quickly, and I can see her eyes yet; but I was older before I knew what I saw there. It was not the way it used to be when I was her horse. I thought I had scared her because she did not know I was there. When she had looked that way at me, she would not look any more. She just stood still with her hands clasped in front of her and her head bent. I talked to her, but she did not answer. Only once she said, hardly louder than a whisper: ‘Shonka ’kan, Shonka ’kan.’

“I knew she was pretty, with her long hair combed smooth and shining like a blackbird, and I think she was waiting for me to throw my blanket over us and whisper to her in the dark. But my head was full of horse-stealing and war and the great deeds High Horse and I were going to do before very long; and it was such things that I told her, bragging like the boy I was, for I think I wanted her to be proud of me.

“There was a band of Shyelas [Cheyennes] camped up the creek that time. High Horse and I would go up there to play throwing-them-off-their-horses or maybe hoop-and-spear with the boys our age; for the Shyelas were friends and almost like our own people come to visit us.

“One day when we were up there having a good time, I noticed that High Horse was not with us any more, and I wondered if he had gone home. So afterwhile I rode off down the creek towards the Miniconjou village. There was some brush around a spring, and High Horse was in there. He was talking to a Shyela girl, and he did not see me. First I thought I would yell at him; but I did not, for all at once I felt sad and ashamed. So I turned back and rode home another way.