Then we made our way back along the treacherous ledges and rock-shelves, where nerve and sure-footedness were necessary for every step. When we came to loose shale, we traveled fearlessly with long slides, down to the carcass of the sheep, near timber-line. [[114]]
By the time we stripped off the hide and had the meat ready, night was beginning to settle over the surrounding mountains. Then, in the dark forest Yellow Bird was afraid. He sang chants to keep off ghosts and evil things, until we came to our horses on the floor of the valley. After the moon rose, the dark places were filled with its magic light, and the open parks and lakes were like fairyland.
At camp the Indians gathered around the fire to roast sheep meat, and to hear about our hunt. It was the night of full moon, without a cloud in the sky. Our fire was in a meadow, near the edge of the forest, where its red glow lighted up the big trees.
Like true children of nature, my companions acted as they felt. Sometimes they talked; and sometimes there was silence for a while. In the distance an owl hooted. It came nearer and nearer, until its call sounded from the top of a tree near by.
“Listen!” said Nitana. “He calls his own name—ears-far-apart, ears-far-apart, ears-far-apart (ka-ka-not-stoki, horned owl). One can tell the different members of an owl family by their voices—the deep call of the father, the higher one of the mother and the thin ones of the children.”
After another silence the owl hooted again. My Indian sister shuddered: “Perhaps it is a ghost,” said she. “Some owls are the unhappy spirits of people long dead.”
“A medicine man told me,” said Little Creek, “that people who have died and are unhappy in the spirit world, take the form of owls and come back to their old haunts. They travel only at night and dread the sunlight, because their deeds in this world were evil.”
Again the owl hooted, this time from another tree. “Kyai!” exclaimed Strikes-on-Both-Sides, “there it is again. Just before my sister died, she saw an owl looking at the door of her tepee. She was so frightened, she told a medicine man; [[115]]he said to use black paint on her face; if the owl came back, the paint would ward off the evil. But it was no use; my sister died in a few days.”
This ghostly talk by the fire, under the nocturnal spell of the forest, made the women afraid. To allay their fears, Little Creek said: “An owl never harms any one in a crowd, if he has a relative there.” So he left the circle of firelight, and going to the edge of the woods shouted to the owl, “You are my relative.”
Then the owl flew away, and I asked Little Creek: “What is the spirit world like?” He said: