When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“Next, long thongs of buffalo hide were tied to the top of the tree, and when the carriers had raised the tree on forked poles and set the butt upon the hole, young warriors pulled upon the thongs and the tree arose until it dropped into the hole. Then all the people cried out together with one voice, rejoicing.

“So the sacred tree was planted. And the sun went down.

“All the while these things were being done, we who were going to dance had to wait in a big lodge that had been made for us, and when the tree had come home, our attendants told us everything that was being done out there, and we could hear Blue Spotted Horse and Chagla praying. When the people cried out with one voice, we knew the tree was planted. We had all gone through the sweat bath, as I did before my vision quest; and afterwards we were rubbed with the sacred sage and painted red all over with the sacred paint. We could hear the happy people outside and what the young warriors cried to them about the preparing and coming of the tree. High Horse, Kicking Bear, and Charging Cat were in there too, because the four of us had dedicated the pipe and made the vow together the way I told you. But we could not go outside and be seen until it was time to dance. What I have told you is what I have seen many times when I did not dance.

“It was night now. Before we slept they gave us some food and water, and that was the last that we could have until our vows were fulfilled. It was not long before there was snoring all around me, but it was hard for me to go to sleep. Maybe I was a little afraid. Sometimes I would hold my breath because something might happen all at once. When the snoring stopped, now and then, the big night outside held its breath too, waiting for something. Maybe a voice would roar all at once, as when I stole my grandfather’s pipe and the thunder beings scolded. Kicking Bear was lying on one side of me and High Horse on the other. Next to High Horse was Charging Cat. I could hear Kicking Bear and Charging Cat breathing deep, as though nothing was going to happen, and I wondered if maybe I was a coward after all. Then I remembered how my heart sang when we were driving the Crow herd away from the village that night. I was not a coward then. Afterwhile I knew that High Horse was not sleeping either. He would turn over and then turn back; and when he was still for a while I could feel he was awake yet. That made me feel better, because I knew he was brave. After we had lain there awake for a long while, he put his mouth close to my ear and whispered: ‘Brother, are you awake?’ And I answered, whispering: ‘Yes, brother, I cannot go to sleep.’ He was still for a while, and then he whispered: ‘She was funny, wasn’t she—the fat old woman—the way she bounced?’ Then we put our arms around each other and lay close together, snickering like little boys.

“Suddenly someone was shaking me by the shoulder, saying: ‘Get up! It is time!’ Then I knew that the attendants were waking the dancers, and I had been sleeping deep.

“It was still dark. They told us to put on our skirts of bison fur, and that is all we wore—not even moccasins. Then they led us outside into the still, starry night. Some people were moving like shadows among the tepees and some were coming towards the dancing ring.”

The old man ceased speaking and fell into a reverie, blowing softly the while on his eagle-bone whistle, highly polished by years of thumbing.

“I had this in my hand,” he said at length. “Chagla gave it to me. I also carried a pipe. The stem was wrapped with colored porcupine quills up to the mouthpiece, and that was covered with the green skin of a mallard. They led us through the opening of the dancing ring, and I was first because I had taken the scalp. Next came High Horse, Kicking Bear, and Charging Cat, because of all those Crow horses and the victory. There were about thirty other dancers.

“As I entered, they gave me a buffalo skull to carry because I was the principal dancer. We went around the ring from left to right, which is walking in a sacred manner, and stopped facing the place where the sun comes up. I put the skull down in front of me with the nose to the coming day. Low down at the rim of earth yonder was a faint streak of light. The morning star was big and bright and still. As I gazed at it, I wanted to cry, but I could feel something like wings lifting me too. It was the same way the star looked down at me that time after I dreamed beneath my father’s scaffold and heard him tell me always to be kind to old people and never to be afraid of anything. Then the drummers began singing to the coming sun, and their drumsticks, with bison tails fastened on the ends, made a slapping sound.”

The old man ceased. Getting to his feet with some difficulty, he danced feebly, keeping time with drums long silent and blowing on his whistle pointed towards no earthly dawn. “So!” he said at length with a little cackling laugh and panting like a runner. “Washtay! It was good. But I cannot dance very well any more. There is no strength in what I eat these days.”