While that sort of thing continued through six years, they might have realized, had they thought of it, how No-man would hardly be silent among the Indians. He had to make some sort of face, put up something, anything for appearances. Craving for sympathy, affection, respect, or even enmity, he could claim attention only in one way. He had no strength to boast of, no wealth to display, or power, or virtue, fame of deeds, or other merit save this: that his home was the sacred tipi, that his friends were the holy woman of the Blackfeet, and her husband the medicine man, Storm. He boasted of Rain's oracles and her miracles of healing as though they were given under his management. More and more the mountaineers and the warrior hordes of the plains regarded the sacred lodge as a place of pilgrimage. Yearly the Apse of Ice became more central to that Indian world which was swept by mysterious pestilence, ravaged by hopeless wars, appealing for guidance, and getting fire water.
III
As the work increased a guest lodge was set up for the use of the Indian pilgrims, who hunted and cooked for themselves. Only No-man was admitted to the sacred tipi, where his visits formed a pretext for a bit of meat now and again which Rain and Storm would share without too much offense to Hiawatha. Of course they knew that they were doing wrong—so much the better fun. Early in their life together the Spirit Guide showed them the life of an Indian tribe as seen from the astral plane. The slaughtering of the buffalo, the dressing of meat, and the feasting was all done in a cloud, a fetid mist caused by the fumes of blood. "Poor things," said Hiawatha, as he watched, "if they do not hunt they will lose their training for war, and the other tribes will rub them out. They eat flesh, they are strong, they have the intellect which leads them to slaughter and despoil their enemies, to lie, to steal, to cheat. Only the blood fumes cloud their intuition, fog their conscience, and take away from them that foreboding which warns the animals when there is danger. That Veil of Blood is the heaviest of all the seven which shut men out from Vision."
Of course that was all very true; but, on the other hand, the camas bulb is sweet enough to cloy, and though there is a great variety of wild vegetables and fruits, they are not an exciting diet. As to rainbow trout, they are very shy of holy anchorites.
But that was not the worst. Bears are unscrupulous: at certain seasons also vegetarians because meat is rather scarce. When Rain caught a grizzly raiding the holy tipi, her thrashings tickled him so nicely that he would fetch his wife to share the fun. The wood rats, a special nuisance in that district, the porcupines, squirrels, chipmunks, polecats, all shared Rain's views on diet, treating her supplies as a public larder. So great was their enthusiasm that she and Storm were like to starve to death, rather than relinquish their principles, but for the pilgrims who brought offerings of dried fruits or vegetables.
Had there been seeds to start a garden without any birds or bears to inspect the produce, had there been eggs, milk, cheese, honey, groceries, or cereals, there were no merit in a meatless regimen; but housekeeping at the holy tipi was not without its worries.
Still, it is a verity that with rare exceptions prophets, seers, hermits, saints, monks, some sorts of clergy, all kinds of people as a whole who visit the spirit-realms must abstain from eating any creature which is able to look them in the eyes. The most carnal among us observe that rule with regard to dogs, cats, and horses.
Howbeit when No-man came on a visit, his fleshly lusts were a very good excuse for a lapse from grace which the anchorites were depraved enough to enjoy. It was he who contrived the animal-proof cavern with a rock door which finally solved the problem of the vegetarian larder.