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WALTER. Mc CLINT
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UNIVERSITY
OF PITTSBURGH
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THIS BOOK PRESENTED BY
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OLD INDIAN TRAILS
SUNSET FROM LOOKOUT BUTTE {page 1 97)'
OLD INDIAN TRAILS
BY
WALTER McCLINTOCK, M.A.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
£(je &ibersibe $ress CamfariiQC
1923
r
COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY WALTER McCLINTCCK
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
tEfK «iU«Stt>C $rcsfi
CAMBRIDGE • MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
a)
TO MY MOTHER
CLARA CHILDS McCLINTOCK
PREFACE
In the spring of 1896 I went into northwestern Montana as
a member of a Government expedition which was appointed
by President Cleveland to recommend a national policy
for the United States Forest Reserves and to advise the
Secretary of the Interior as to the reserving of certain other
forests.
Our expedition, which went in advance of the main
Commission, was composed of Gifford Pinchot, Chief of the
Forest Service (now Governor of Pennsylvania), and Henry
S. Graves, later Chief Forester and Dean of the Yale School
of Forestry; I went as photographer and to help in the forest
surveys. We had two guides, William Jackson, an Indian
scout of the Blackfoot tribe, and Jack Munroe, a white man
who was married into that tribe.
We examined the forests in northwestern Montana, both
on the eastern and western slopes of the Rocky Mountains.
We came into contact with the natives of the region, both
white men and Indians. We made surveys in the country
where the Flathead Forest Reserve was later established,
and in the region now known as Glacier National Park.
Then it was a paradise for hunting and fishing, a wild and
unfrequented country, visited only by Indians, trappers,
and a few hunters of big game.
We made our last survey in the heavy forest on the west-
ern side of the Rocky Mountains. Then Graves set out for
Kalispell and civilization; Pinchot, with Jack Munroe and
our bear dogs, started south for Fort Missoula; I was left
alone with the Indian scout.
viii PREFACE
We crossed the mountains together and joined the tribal
camp of the Blackfoot Indians on the plains. There I met
many of their leading men; among them Chief Mad Wolf,
who adopted me as his son, in ceremonies lasting through two
days, and made me a member of his tribe.
I maintained intimate associations with my Indian
father and his tribe through many years, keeping records of
everything that I saw and heard — their customs and legends
and religious beliefs, our hunting trips, and the flora and
wild life of their country.
But into the region where we wandered civilization came
with its automobile highways and great modern hotels.
The old generation of Indians have died and their children
are civilized. The Blackfoot are no longer nomads and hunt-
ers, following the great herds of buffalo and other game;
they till the soil and live in houses like white men. Their
ancient customs and tribal life have passed away forever.
My purpose, therefore, in writing this book, is to record
the results of fifteen years' close association with the old
Blackfoot chiefs, medicine men, and common people. I have
retained the narrative form of my original notes, in order
to give as faithful a record as possible of their character,
environment, and family life.
W. McC.
3
32
35
CONTENTS
I. My Indian Guide
II. Crossing the Rocky Mountains 8
III. Our Camp near the Summit 15
IV. Home of the Scout 21
V. Stories by the Scout's Mother-in-Law
VI. My Adoption by Mad Wolf
VII. Mad Wolf tells the Legend of the Beaver
Bundle 42
viii. i am given an indian name and made a member
of the blackfoot tribe 54
IX. Home of Mad Wolf 68
X. Marriage Customs 80
XI. The Head-Chief and his Wife 85
XII. Legend of the Smoking Star 92
XIII. My Night Experience with a Grizzly Bear 100
XIV. Indian Summer 109
XV. A Frontier Dance 119
XVI. Hunting Rocky Mountain Goats 124
XVII. The Blizzard 130
XVIII. Snow-Bound 139
XIX. The Mad Indian 144
XX. Coming of the Chinook 149
XXI. Beginning of Spring 153
XXII. Our Camp in the Mountains 158
x CONTENTS
XXIII. Our North Expedition 166
XXIV. Onesta and his Sacred Bear Spear 174
XXV. Camp of the Blood Indians 179
XXVI. Country of the North Piegans 184
XXVII. Camp of Brings-Down-the-Sun 191
XXVIII. Onesta gives his Crow Water Ceremony 199
XXIX. The Rival Medicine Men 206
XXX. Brings-Down-the-Sun tells about his Father 210
XXXI. Brings-Down-the-Sun tells about Men's
Societies 219
XXXII. Brings-Down-the-Sun tells about the Birds
and the Stars 226
XXXIII. Legends of Star Boy and Scarface 232
XXXIV. Beginning of the Sun Dance 241
XXXV. Forming the Great Circle Camp 247
XXXVI. Life in the Circle Camp 253
XXXVII. Painted Tepees and Picture Writing 258
XXXVIII. A Native Doctor and his Patient 267
XXXIX. Dance of the Hair-Parters (Grass Dance) 274
XL. Society of Brave Dogs 284
XLI. A Medicine-Pipe Ceremony 289
XLII. A Sacred Ceremony in Mad Wolf's Tepee 298
XLIII. The Tribal Dancing-Lodge 304
XLIV. End of the Sun Dance and Farewell of my
Indian Father 310
Appendix: Medicinal and Useful Plants of
the Blackfoot Indians 319
I UTTM-iTr <"* ^ *"T
ILLUSTRATIONS
Sunset from Lookout Butte Colored frontispiece
A Small Lake on the Western Slope of the Rockies 4
Our Indian Tepee 4
An Old Indian Trail 16
Tribal Camp of Blackfoot on the Prairie 20
Mad Wolf 36
Mad Wolf praying 40
Mad Wolf's Sacred Beaver Bundle 40
Woman under a Sun-Shelter: Bead and Quill Work;
Meat drying on Poles 70
Woman repairing a Tepee-Cover 70
Scaffold Burial 78
A Grave on a Hilltop 78
White Grass, the Medicine Man • 92
Showing Interior Arrangement of his Tepee
Sunrise at our Hunting Camp in the Rockies {in color) 112
Onesta 154
NlTANA 1 74
The Country of the North Piegans 186
Onesta entering the Thunder Tepee with his Sacred
Bundles 200
The Crow Water Ceremony of Onesta in the Thunder
Tepee 2 °°
Brings-Down-the-Sun and the Author 210
xii ILLUSTRATIONS
Three Chiefs, Followers of Mad Wolf 250
A Line of Warriors with War Bonnets 250
Drying and Softening a Skin 256
Fleshing a Hide 256
Circle Camp of the Blackfoot 260
Inner Circle of the Tribal Camp, with Crow Tepee in
Foreground (in color) 264
Rattler doctoring Stuyimi 272
Elk Horn, Herald of the Brave Dog Society 280
Society of Brave Dogs marching through the Camp 284
Characteristic Costumes of Brave Dogs 284
Brave Dogs giving their Society Dance 286
Mountain Chief 292
Wolf Plume 292
A Blackfoot Camp on the Prairie (in color) 296
Ceremony of the Sun Dance inside the Sacred Tepee 302
Raising the Center Pole for the Sun Lodge 308
The Sun Lodge Finished and Ready for the Tribe 308
Twilight in the Circle Camp: Tepees illuminated by
Inside Fires 314
OLD INDIAN TRAILS
OLD INDIAN TRAILS
CHAPTER I
MY INDIAN GUIDE
It was an evening in early summer. The stars shone bright
and our Indian tepee glowed with light from its inside fire.
My guide, a famous scout of the Blackfoot tribe, smoked in
silence; while I lay on my comfortable bed of robes and
blankets, listening to the sounds from the forest — chirping
of crickets, last songs of the thrushes and vibrating chant
of an ovenbird.
That night by our lodge-fire I said to the scout: "Tell me
about your home." And he replied:
"On the prairie beyond the Rockies, I have a ranch with
many horses and cattle. The mountains are near, the hunting
good; our streams and rivers are full of fish. Come with me
to my country, to my tribe, the Blackfoot Indians. In our
valley the head men of the tribe live; you will meet there our
leading chiefs."
For a moment I was silent. The plan of the scout accorded
with my own desire. All my life I wanted to live away from
the city, among the mountains and wilds. I was weary of the
turmoil of the city, the dreary grind and slavery of business,
from early morn until night in an office-prison; away from the
sunlight and from birds and flowers in the spring-time. I
wanted to shake off the shackles of social convention, to
leave the worry and stress of the modern city, where business
and the making of money are the chief end of man.
4 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
I thought to myself: "If I go with my guide, I can live
out-of-doors all day and all night. I shall become strong in
body and mind and be happy. And, instead of striving for
money, I will go on a quest. I will stay with the scout and
visit his tribe, to find whether they are more happy and
contented in their primitive life, than civilized people in
great modern cities."
Now Indians have a way of masking their feelings; they
never show enthusiasm. So I said quietly to the scout: "I
want to go to your home and your Indian tribe." This ended
our talk for that night; but I had a keen desire to go.
My guide was near middle age. He had the swarthy com-
plexion, black hair and high cheek bones of an Indian; but
he did not look like a full-blood. He was tall and slender,
with an impressive manner; fluent of speech and polite and
suave. His father was a white man named Jackson, an
early pioneer, a Rocky Mountain hunter and trapper, his
mother an Indian woman. The son was called Billy Jackson
by white men and Siksikai-koan (Blackfoot Man) by the
Indians.
But Siksikai-koan was an unusual half-breed. He raised
himself above the popular prejudice against half-breeds.
He was liked and respected by both white men and Indians.
Honest and industrious, generous and kind, he was always
ready to help any who came to his ranch. He stood high in
the councils of the Blackfoot tribe; and served honorably
as scout for Generals Custer, Miles, and Reno in the Indian
wars.
The scout was a good guide in the wilderness; on him I
could depend. He knew the trails of the plains and mountains
and handled with skill the wild Indian horses. Self-reliant
in time of danger, he had the quiet manliness and courage
that knew no fear; a keen sense of humor and a wonderful
knowledge of nature — information not gained from books.
A SMALL LAKE ON THE WESTERN SLOPE OF THE ROCKIES
OUR INDIAN" TEPEE
MY INDIAN GUIDE 5
He knew woodcraft; that moss generally grows on the
north side of trees, more on evergreens than on those which
shed their leaves in winter; that pines are more frequently
struck by lightning than birch or cottonwood; that the tough-
est side of a tree is to the north, because the winter winds
and cold come from that direction.
He knew Indian legends and traditions and stories of war
and adventure. He told me about a family of lost children
who went to the sky and became the constellation of the
Pleiades, and the woman who left home and children to live
with the Man-in-the-Moon. He spoke English fluently, also
the Blackfoot, Cree, and Sioux tongues; and was familiar
with the ancient customs and traditions of his Indian tribe.
Our camp was on a small lake on the western slope of the
Rocky Mountains, in the region now known as the Flathead
Forest Reserve. We had a good "pack outfit," a herd of fif-
teen horses, a comfortable Indian tepee and plenty of food.
Our government work was finished and we were free to
wander.
Next morning the mists were heavy over the lake, which
lay like a mirror beneath the surrounding mountains and
forests. The sun came up red and flashed bright shafts of
light through the big trees; the shadows from their branches
made odd patterns on their smooth trunks. Grass and under-
growth were wet with heavy dew and hanging cobwebs shone
like diamonds in the sunlight. By the time we broke camp
and had our horses packed, the sun's rays were hot on our
backs.
The scout led the way through the forest, while I followed
and drove the pack horses. How different they were from the
horses of civilization ! They had learned to think for them-
selves and to rustle their own food. On the trail they were
always scheming; I had to watch them and be on the alert.
Their leader was a crafty mare with a bell fastened to her
6 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
neck. All the herd were devotedly attached to her. She was
a good baggage carrier and careful of her pack. She never
let it scrape or bump trees. But she knew how to make
things easy for herself. No matter how poor the feed, she
was always fat and in good condition. She took the lead and
kept the other horses in order. If one of them tried to pass,
she met him with bite or kick and put him back in his place.
All of our pack were gregarious by nature. My saddle
horse was uneasy whenever I dropped behind. He pawed the
ground, whinnied and danced until I started; then ran with
delight to join the others. This feeling held all of our horses
together on the trail, and kept them from wandering at night.
It was the beginning of summer — just the time for birds
and wild flowers. I saw fields of Indian basket grass with tall
stalks and dense caps of cream white flowers; along the trail
were beds of yellow adder' s-tongues, pink twin flowers, white
lilies and flowering dogwood. I heard the wild cry of a loon
from a lonely lake and olive-backed thrushes along the
shores. In the deep forest were winter wrens, golden-crown
kinglets and myrtle warblers. Then, for the first time, I
heard the flight song of a Macgillivray warbler; and found
his nest in some blackberry bushes close to a lake.
Finally we entered the valley of the Flathead and camped
in a grove of larch and yellow pine. In that broad and
fertile valley with plenty of free sunshine, the yellow pine is a
noble tree with symmetrical spire, straight round trunk and
slender shaft. The needles are long and yellow green, the
bark smooth with deep fissures and arranged in massive
plates.
There was plenty of good grass, a godsend to our horses
after their long stay in the forest. We removed packs and
saddles, attended to sore backs and picketed the bell-mare.
It was our custom to keep her near camp at night, that it
might be easy to catch the rest of the herd in the morning.
MY INDIAN GUIDE 7
I slept outside under the stars, making my bed close to a
thicket of fragrant pines and masses of wild roses. It was
one of those days that come only with early summer. A
crescent moon hung over the forest; from a bank of clouds the
first star shone. In the east, beyond an outer range of forest-
covered mountains, I saw a line of white, glittering peaks, re-
mote and ethereal, glowing in the soft tints of the sunset, like
the realm of another world.
Then the lure of the wild stirred my blood strangely.
Again I told the scout I wanted to stay with him. I had
a new sense of freedom, as though a load had been rolled
from my back. I felt like a boy just freed from school and
longed to explore that mountain world, to discover what lay
beyond.
That night we sat by our camp-fire through the long north-
ern twilight. The scout smoked in silence, while I dreamed
of mountain trails and Indian camps and bright days ahead.
CHAPTER II
CROSSING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS
We left the Flathead Valley and came to the South Fork of
Flathead River, entering a gorge, narrow and precipitous,
where the river roared and thundered against huge rocks.
The current was swift, swollen by the melting of mountain
snows under a hot sun. On both sides of the gorge were sheer
cliffs, and, because of the rocks, it was hard and dangerous
going. We followed the river, seeking a place to ford, until we
came upon open flats, where the channel was wider; then with
shouting and shooting of guns, we drove the frightened horses
across.
We camped near a band of Kutenai Indians. Their smoke-
colored tepees stood on rising ground. Near by was a grove
of trees where a woman was chopping, and a stream with
groups of children swimming and playing in the water. In a
broad meadow many horses were grazing, men driving picket
pins and looking after their horses for the night.
The Kutenai were famed for their good horses. In former
days they brought them across the mountains to run buffalo
on the plains and to race with the Blackfoot. Whenever the
scout visited their country, he traded for horses and took
them back across the Rockies to his ranch on the prairies.
That evening I went with the scout to the Kutenai camp
and saw the men gathered in a gambling game. They sat in
a circle, the players in the center, surrounded by a throng
of women spectators. It was a guessing game, played with
marked sticks of bone, with horses and blankets for stakes.
The players sang gambling songs; they joked and taunted
each other; they beat with sticks and drummed. The game
CROSSING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 9
came to an end, when one of the sides which was led by the
chief of the Kutenai lost all their counting-sticks; and then
the scout began to trade.
In the meantime, I was on the lookout for a good saddle
horse. Near the circle of gamblers I saw a fine bay tethered.
He was a stocky horse, built from the ground up, a four-year-
old with a white star on his forehead. He had a sleek and
glossy coat, slender legs, and a beautiful pair of brown eyes.
He belonged to the chief of the Kutenai, the Indian who lost
the gambling game. He saw me looking at his horse and came
near. He wore a suit of deerskin decorated with colored
beads, a beaded necklace of many strands, white shell ear-
rings, and his hair in long braids over his shoulders.
We bargained in the sign language, and our trading was
short. I asked him "how much," by holding out my closed
right hand and opening the fingers, one after the other. He
sold me his horse for nine dollars. And with the money he
opened again the gambling game. This time he won all the
counting-sticks and the game was his, while I was the owner
of a fine saddle horse. I named him "Kutenai," after his
Indian tribe.
Then we entered a broad timber belt, where the forest was
dense and the trees large, for the most part giant cedar, hem-
lock, larch, white pine, great silver fir and canoe birch. The
forest floor was covered with a thick carpet of moss and
ground pine. Sun and wind did not penetrate. Along the
trail the light was dim and the air still. But overhead,
through the tops of the big trees, I heard the rushing of the
wind.
We rode through glades rank with dense clumps of fragrant
ferns and grasses growing shoulder high, forded streams and
passed foaming cascades and chains of lovely lakes hidden
in deep recesses of the forest. On the western slope of the
Rockies the vegetation is luxuriant and the forests dense,
io OLD INDIAN TRAILS
because of the mild climate and abundant rainfall. Just
across the Continental Divide, on the eastern slope, the
climate is cold and dry, with extreme changes of temperature.
When the trail was blocked with fallen trees, the scout
went ahead and chopped our way through, while I followed
driving the pack horses. He had the marvelous instinct of
an Indian for direction and keeping his course. On the trail
he was cheerful; he never disputed, found fault, or cursed.
He rarely said whether he liked or enjoyed anything. He
was courteous and had the quiet manners of a gentleman. If
I made mistakes, I found it was better to remain silent than
to apologize, or try to make excuses.
We camped near the forks of two streams, where a huge
white pine towered above the rest of the forest. I heard the
ringing, rippling song of a water ouzel, almost fierce in its
wildness, as if sung by a free and untamable spirit. So wild
was he, and continually on the alert, he reminded me of a
watchful Indian. Springing from rock to rock, he ran along
the shore, filled with nervous energy, ever shaking himself
and bobbing up and down.
That night by our camp-fire Siksikai-koan told about his
life. Most of his youth was spent north of the Line among
the Cree Indians in Canada. In those early days on the plains,
he was daring and reckless, and suffered permanent injuries.
In 1874, he was scout for General Custer on his expedition
to the Black Hills of Dakota, and went with him against the
Sioux. He served under General Miles and General Terry,
and the Government of the Northwest Territories in the
Riel Rebellion. Some of his scouting companions in the
Cheyenne Service were the warriors, White Bull, Beaver
Claws, Shell, Two Moons, and Brave Wolf.
On the day when General Custer and his battalion of the
Seventh Cavalry were cut to pieces by the Sioux, Siksikai-
koan was with Reno's command. With fifteen scouts he
CROSSING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS u
made a stand and tried to stop the Indians. In that charge,
all but two of those brave scouts were killed. Bloody Knife
and Siksikai-koan alone were left. Then Bloody Knife shook
hands and said: "This is the last day I shall ever fight." He
rushed among the enemy, killed two and was slain himself.
But Siksikai-koan escaped; he hid in the underbrush, and lay
in the river close to the bank. After two days and nights of
terrible exposure and without food, he made his way with
two white soldiers to Reno's command on the bluffs above
the river. In the night, Siksikai-koan led them past the Sioux
sentinels, through his knowledge of the Sioux language. 1
We left our camp at the big pine in the early morning,
when the mists were lifting from the valley, and came that
afternoon to a fine meadow surrounded by the forest, where
we camped because of good pasture, grass in full seed and
thistles, of which the horses were very fond. We hobbled
and tethered them, caught a mess of trout, and a grouse
which the scout killed by a skillful throw of a stone. The
day was warm and bright, and the trout were rising in the
river. The scout used bait in deep water and caught many
fish. I stood on a high bank where the facilities for fly-fishing
were of the best. In the clear swift water I saw many fish
swimming over the gravelly bottom, but they scorned a fly.
Finally the scout called: "Try the white entrail of another
fish." So I baited my hood and cast toward a place where the
current eddied in a deep pool. For a moment I let it lie.
Suddenly there was a swirl and a big form broke the water. I
struck and saw a golden flash as he sprang from the river.
"Hold him fast!" shouted the scout. "Don't slacken your
line." The fish rushed upstream and across; he struggled
in vain. I reeled him in and pulled him to the shore, and
the scout landed him on the clean stones. He was a five-
i This incident is referred to in the Report of General W. T. Sherman, Secre-
tary of War, 1876, p. 23>
12 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
pound fish, the biggest I had caught. The scout called him
a bull-trout, but he is also known by the name of "Dolly
Varden" {Salmo clarkii). He had a large mouth filled with
sharp teeth, and was dotted all over with small black spots.
The upper half of his body was yellow, the lower half pink,
and silvery white underneath. He was good eating; we had
him with the grouse for our evening meal.
In the night I wakened to the sound of the ever-rushing
river, and saw the forest lighted by moonlight; it made
shadows on the trunks of the big trees and lay in patches on
the ground. The air was fragrant with the smell of leaves,
the freshness of the woods and the subtle perfume of the
earth. At daybreak I heard the early chorus of the birds,
and went after our horses in the meadow, wading through
masses of wild flowers and tall grass growing in bunches. I
felt in accord with the world, as though I belonged to the
forest. My heart was light; I was as free as the air.
When I found Kutenai, my saddle horse, he gave a gentle
whinny of recognition and rubbed his soft nose against my
hand. He was a good and faithful companion, just the horse
for the Indian country. He was young and spirited, yet
gentle and friendly; I could trust him, and rode him without
saddle or bridle.
Before the sun was high, we had our horses packed and
were on our way toward the Blackfoot country. Our trail
led through a broad valley and along the banks of a swift
stream, where the current dashed against moss-covered
boulders. The peaks of the Continental Divide sparkled in
the sunlight, revealing snowfields and glaciers, which over-
hung tne mountain sides like ice cataracts. Early in the day
the water of the stream was clear, but in the afternoon
changed to a milky white, from glaciers melting under a hot
sun.
I saw a water ouzel dive fearlessly into the foaming rapids
CROSSING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 13
and flit about in the spray. The more boisterous the water,
the better he seemed to enjoy himself. He sat on a rock in
midstream and burst into a cheerful song with delicate trills.
Then flew like a flash to his moss-covered nest on a ledge, so
close to the rushing water it was continually bathed in spray.
We passed through a forest of fir and spruce, the trees tall
and straight, and soon had high peaks and massive mountain
ranges towering over us. We rode along the base of a great
mountain, which rose precipitously several thousand feet.
There were lateral valleys with cirques, formed by the
erosion of glaciers. Through each of these valleys flowed a
stream, which had its source in an overhanging glacier at the
head, pine forests sweeping upwards in long and gentle curves.
Finally we entered a great basin, a vast amphitheater. In
the center was a sparkling blue lake with wooded shores, sur-
mounted by walls of rock several thousand feet in height.
The lake was fed by many streams springing from glaciers
and snowdrifts; they fell over high cliffs with an incessant
roar, which reverberated like thunder from the surrounding
walls of rock. We crossed high rock ledges, ravines and gul-
lies, jumped fallen trees, and forced our way through wind-
falls and thickets of balsam and fir.
I marveled at the endurance and sure-footedness of our
Indian horses. In the worst places they rarely stumbled; I
did not see one of them fall. In emergencies they never lost
their heads. They walked serenely along the edges of preci-
pices where I shuddered to look down. Steep places did not
bother them; they sat back on their haunches, bunched their
feet together and slid.
But we had one rattle-brained pack horse. If he happened
to get in the lead, he wavered and hesitated and held back
the outfit; he wandered from the trail to try fool routes of
his own, and tore his pack against rocks and trees.
Our last camp on the western slope of the Rockies was in
i 4 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
a grassy park surrounded by groups of tall firs, spruces and
thickets of balsam, close to huge banks of snow and the
precipitous cliffs of the Continental Divide. A stream of
water, cold as ice, flowed through a meadow of rich grass,
fine food for our horses, tired and hungry after their hard
climb.
Hoary marmots greeted us with shrill whistles from the
cliffs, and a red fox barked sharply and ran into his den.
We saw a herd of Rocky Mountain goats feeding on a high
shelf in an inaccessible part of the mountain. They lay in
the sunlight near a cavern in the wall-rock, while their senti-
nel, an enormous billy with long white beard, stood like a
statue close to the edge of a precipice.
Then from a high elevation above our camp, where ever-
lasting snowdrifts lay under the shadow of huge rocks, we
had a view of massive mountain ranges, with fields of snow
and ice glistening in the sunlight; great valleys with sky-
blue lakes and vast forests stretching toward the west to
meet blue and distant plains. Through a massive rent in the
rocky wall of the Divide, we looked eastward, toward the
Blackfoot country and the end of our journey — a view
of plains so vast and distant they looked like an ocean meet-
ing the horizon.
North, lay Triple Divide Mountain, the Crown of the Con-
tinent, where the watershed divides between the Pacific
Ocean, Hudson Bay, and the Gulf of Mexico. To the north-
west was Mount Blackfoot and the Blackfoot Glacier, a vast
expanse of snow and ice; Mount Cleveland (10,438 ft.), a
lofty and massive dome; Mount Siyeh (10,004 ft.), named
after the Blackfoot chief who was to be my Indian father;
and Mount Jackson (10,023 ft.), named after my Indian
guide Siksikai-koan (William Jackson), because he was the
first to climb its steep and rocky slopes.
CHAPTER III
OUR CAMP NEAR THE SUMMIT
The scout said a big storm was coming. That day the sun
went dov/n with a rayless glow and a warm wind sprang up
from the south. But the sky was clear and the night had a
multitude of brilliant stars.
At dawn we broke camp and packed our horses. We has-
tened across the Divide to the east side of the range, where
we camped in a sheltered place, between two small glacier
lakes with banks of snow and ice along their shores.
As we crossed the summit, I saw black clouds coming up
across the western horizon. They had an ominous look, ex-
tending into the north like a great wall; they ascended to-
wards the zenith and were advancing over the entire sky.
There was a strange stillness. The air was sultry with no
wind; birds and insects were silent. Then came a vivid flash
of lightning, a deafening peal of thunder, and after a stillness
a second peal.
Suddenly a strange moan seemed to fill the air. Sinister-
looking clouds swept down from the Divide. I heard a roar
like ocean surf and the tempest burst with hurricane force,
bearing masses of rock and shale and whirling the water of the
lake into the air. A canvas pack cover was caught by the
wind and carried towards the sky. It soared over camp like
a monstrous bird, frightening our horses which stampeded
through thickets and snowdrifts. In spite of the gale our
tepee held fast. We anchored it securely by a lariat noosed
round the apex of the poles and made fast to strongly driven
stakes; and weighted down the pegs and sides of the lodge
16 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
with stones. The bottom, too, was sheltered from the wind
by thickets of gnarled and stunted spruces.
For three days and nights a heavy wind with rain and
sleet blew out of the northwest. But our Indian tepee was a
snug shelter. We lay by our lodge-fire, cosy and comfortable.
In my warm blanket-bed, I liked to listen to the roar of the
wind in the spruces, the creaking of the lodge-poles, and the
beating of rain and sleet. We had sumptuous meals of trout,
and tenderloin and heart of a Rocky Mountain ram, which
the scout had killed near the summit. He passed the time
telling me about his home and Indian tribe. He told about
their ancient customs and strange religious beliefs, Indian
legends and tribal tales about the very region where we
were camped.
Now an Indian is generally slow to speak his innermost
thoughts and to talk about his religious beliefs. But during
that big storm, the scout was in the mood to talk. He said:
"The Sun is the Great Power. He is in the birds and wild
animals, lakes and streams, prairies and mountains. He
brings the leaves in the spring-time. He makes the grass and
berries grow; and upon them the birds and animals depend
for life.
"The Thunder is a great bird. It flies with the clouds,
and brings the rain. From its eyes the lightnings flash.
"The blizzard is a person, who runs before the storm and
shoots his arrows.
"Long ago an Indian, who camped in this valley, saw the
Wind Maker rise from the waters of a lake. He was like a
monster bull elk. When he flapped his ears, the wind blew
hard; and when he sank again beneath the water, the wind
went down.
"My people are afraid of spirits. We believe they are
everywhere — underground, in the air, in the forest, in rocks
and streams. We are afraid of ghosts which take the form of
AN OLD INDIAN TRAIL
Golden snow lilies in bloom on both sides
OUR CAMP NEAR THE SUMMIT 17
owls and come in the dark to harm people; ghosts of disem-
bodied relatives and friends often come around. The Black-
foot are happy on the open plains. In the mountains they are
afraid; the forests are dark and gloomy and they hear strange
sounds.
"Last summer an Under-Water-Spirit took a child of Bear
Paw. He is my friend and lives near me on Cutbank River.
One day Bear Paw went into the mountains to cut lodge-
poles. He camped at the edge of the forest, near a bend in
the river, where a big rock stood and the water was deep.
His wife went there for water and saw the rock move; and
that night she had a strange dream. The Rock stood over
her and said: 'Give me your child.' The woman was so fright-
ened she went to the river and sacrificed some of her orna-
ments; she threw them into the water close to the Rock.
Soon after that one of her children died. Now they believe
it was taken from them by the Spirit of the Rock."
The scout related a story which Heavy Breast, another
friend who lived in his valley on Cutbank River, told him.
Heavy Breast and the Grizzly Bear
"When one of my children died last autumn, I felt so
badly I did not want to see any one. So I went alone to the
forest on the mountain. It was dark and gloomy and I felt
lonely. But the only animal to be feared was the grizzly
bear and I knew he would do me no harm, because I am the
guardian of the Bear Medicine. Through its wonderful
power I have cured many people.
"One night I came to a cave near the forks of a stream.
It was raining and I decided to stay there, because in the
cave I would have shelter from the storm. I built a warm
fire and lay down to sleep. When I awoke the sun had not
risen, but, through the mouth of the cave, I saw that day
was beginning to dawn. I heard a noise outside, like some
1 8 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
animal sniffing'the air. I thought one of the dogs had followed
from camp and was nosing around, trying to get my scent.
Then I heard heavy footsteps and knew it was a large animal.
So I was careful. I made no sound; I scarcely even breathed.
"My back was towards the mouth of the cave, so I
turned my head very slowly, very carefully, and saw close to
the entrance a huge grizzly bear. Then I said to myself: 'If
this bear is angry, he has me caught in a trap.' I have often
laughed at animals in traps, but I did not feel like laughing
this time. Again I said to myself: 'This grizzly can do me
no harm; my Bear Medicine will protect me; it has often
helped me to cure the sick; besides I have always had a
friendly feeling for bears, as if they were my relatives; I
must be bold and make a strong talk; I must make this
bear understand that I am his friend.'
"Then I thought: 'Perhaps he intends to play with me
before he kills me.' And this made me feel very queer,
i "Now, all this time the bear did not move. He stood
with his head down and gazed into the mouth of the cave.
Oh! How big he looked! He stood high in front and had a
broad head; and his great feet had long sharp claws. He did
not make a sound, but I knew he was angry; his hair stood
straight up on his back.
"Then I remembered an old medicine man saying, that a
bear never harms a person who does not move and talks to
him in a friendly voice. So I lay with arms stretched out
and head on my hands, like a bear does. Thus I lay and
looked straight into his eyes. And then I began talking
in a friendly way, using the softest and kindest voice I knew.
I flattered him the best I could. I said:
■■■■ " c Brother Bear, you are very good-looking; you have nice
eyes and white teeth; you are big and strong. I have never
killed bears; I do not care to hunt them. Yes! I have always
liked bears. I look upon them as my relatives.'
OUR CAMP NEAR THE SUMMIT 19
"While I talked, his hair began to flatten, so I talked again
harder than ever. I kept on flattering him; I told him some
of the secrets of my Bear Medicine. I saw that he liked my
talk; he was in a good humor; and then I began to pray,
saying:
"'Brother Bear, pity me! I am poor and in trouble.
Brother Bear, I am the keeper of the Bear Medicine.
Brother Bear, it is I who guard the Bear Secrets.
Brother Bear, I ask you to go away and to leave me in peace.'
"Now, the bear was no longer angry. The hair on his
back all went down smooth. Soon he turned and walked
slowly from the cave; and after that I saw him no more."
Thus my guide, an Indian belonging to a tribe of the stone
age of thought, told me about their religious faith. They
believed in the power of the Sun, and that birds and wild
animals were endowed with his wisdom and supernatural
power. They communed with the wild animals, looking upon
them as brothers; they believed they had tribes like men, with
head-chiefs, councils and dances; that they were friendly,
and had power to help people in trouble. Nor did they ex-
clude the animals from the spirit world, the place where they
expected to go after death.
We were storm-bound in our summit camp for several days.
But, on the morning of the fourth day, we awoke to find the
heavens a vast expanse of blue. A foot of snow had fallen.
The surrounding mountains were covered with a white blan-
ket. After the great storm, the air was strangely clear and
sparkled with myriads of shining particles. The clouds had
rolled away towards the east, revealing the entire chain of
Rocky Mountain peaks, their white summits glowing under
the bright rays of the rising sun.
Then we made ready to break camp and leave the snow
and ice of the high altitude for the milder climate of the
20 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
valley; but the devil was in our horses that day. It took many
weary hours to catch the herd. We made a series of corrals
with lariats and pack ropes. By the time we had the horses
packed and ready to start, the sun had long passed the merid-
ian. The scout led the way down the mountain, while I
followed on foot with camera and tripod, driving the horses
and leading my saddle horse Kutenai, loaded with baggage,
because one of our pack horses had escaped us down the
mountain. Then the contrary bell-mare ran into the under-
brush and bucked her pack loose, and the horse of the scout
ran away and threw him off. I found him lying senseless on
the ground, with blood flowing from nose and mouth. When
he came to himself, he made light of his accident; he said
that he had been weakened by his former life of exposure in
the Indian wars.
We camped that night on the floor of the valley, in a park
surrounded by a dark forest of lodge-pole pine and spruce;
the air was mild; bunch-grass grew luxuriantly and many
varieties of wild flowers — blue camas, orchids with pale
green flowers, and yellow columbine with lovely pendant
blossoms.
Our last day in the mountains, we followed a trail down
the eastern slope, a well-known Indian route across the Rocky
Mountains, famous in legend and war story. We passed
through the long forest-covered valley of Cutbank River, be-
tween two massive snow-covered mountain ranges, and rode
through the foothills with their lovely lakes and meadows,
groves of aspen and thickets of willows, crossing high grass-
covered ridges, closely following one another like great waves
of the ocean.
Finally, from the crest of a ridge about twenty miles from
the foot of the mountains, we looked down upon a scene I
shall never forget. On a broad stretch of prairie and on the
shore of a lake lay the tribal camp of the Blackfoot; many
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OUR CAMP NEAR THE SUMMIT 21
hundreds of smoke-colored tepees, pitched in the form of a
great circle more than a mile in circumference. In an open
space near the center of camp was a throng of Indians,
taking part in the ceremony of the Sun Dance. The sur-
rounding meadows were bright with blue lupines, shooting
stars, camas, and yellow sunflowers. Smoke from the eve-
ning fires rose from the tepees. Many horses were feeding
contentedly on the hills. As we stood looking down at the
great camp, a light breeze carried distinctly the shouts of men
and women, crying of children, barking of many dogs, neigh-
ing of horses, and the rhythmic beating of Indian drums in
dances and ceremonial gatherings.
On that first night, we slept on the open prairie with only
the sky for a roof. Late in the night, I was wakened by In-
dian horsemen riding through the camp, singing strange
melodies, giving at intervals shrill war whoops, jingling bells
keeping time with the slow and measured trot of their horses.
Their songs had a lilt and wildness, and were sung with a
vigor and enthusiasm that made me long to record them.
Excitement was in the air. Flaring inside fires lighted up
the lodges, casting weird shadows of the inmates on the
outside coverings. I heard the booming of drums, shrill cries
and shouts of dancers, laughter and cheers of the crowds.
From the center of camp came a solemn chanting of many
voices, accompanied by heavy beating of rattles on the
ground. At intervals the low monotone of men singing in
unison, united with the shrill voices of women. Then the
mysterious chanting died away and I fell asleep.
CHAPTER IV
HOME OF THE SCOUT
Next day the scout took me to the lodge of the head-chief
White Calf and his wife Catches-Two-Horses. These were
the givers of the Sun Dance ceremony. We talked with the
venerable chief Running Crane, and saw his wife who was
fasting, because of a vow to the Sun. We went to the tepees
of the war chiefs, Little Plume and Little Dog, and smoked a
friendly pipe, also with the judges, Shoots-in-the-Air, Curly
Bear and Wolf Plume, and the medicine men, White Grass
and Bull Child. In this way I met some of the head men
of the tribe, and among them chief Mad Wolf, an orator of
renown and the owner of the ancient Beaver Bundle, an
important religious ceremony. This was the beginning of a
friendship, unusual between an Indian and a white man.
It lasted as long as Mad Wolf lived, and had a strange in-
fluence upon my life in the years to come.
When the Sun Dance came to an end and the big camp
broke up, I went with the scout to his ranch on the prairie, in
the valley of Cutbank River, near the homes of the chiefs,
White Calf and Mad Wolf, and of the medicine men, White
Grass and Ear-Rings.
The scout had a cabin built of pine logs from the moun-
tains, with sod-covered roof and clay-chinked walls, also
corrals and low-lying sheds, a garden, and herds of cattle and
horses. His wife was an Indian woman named White Ante-
lope, and they had a family of four children.
She was young and good looking, but had a high temper.
She liked to take things easy, to dress in Indian finery and go
visiting, leaving ranch and children to the care of the scout.
HOME OF THE SCOUT 23
But he was patient with her; he was kind-hearted and always
tried to keep things smooth. She cooked and waited on the
table, when she felt in the mood; she and the children ate
after the men. If shewas moody, the scout prepared the meals.
Their family all slept in one room and I in another. My
bunk of rough boards was built against the walls. But, in
good weather, I slept outside the cabin and under the stars,
on the grassy bank of the river, with a shady grove of cot-
tonwoods near by, and a lovely landscape of meadows and
distant snow-capped mountains.
Siksikai-koan was a good friend, honest and trustworthy.
He stood high in the councils of his tribe and was liked by all
the people. He was always ready to help any who came to
his ranch, to advise his people in their struggle towards
civilization. Through him, I met Indians both old and young.
I made friends with them, and tried to understand them and
to see things their way.
Every morning before sunrise, the scout wakened me to go
into the hayfields. He mowed while I drove the horserake;
and then came days of pitching and stacking. Then every
part of me seemed sound and sane; I was light-hearted and
happy, untrammeled and free. On those broad prairies were
no worries nor pessimists, no laws nor creeds, nothing but a
wonderful peace and contentment; something I had longed
for all my life.
The west wind blew fresh from pine forests on the moun-
tains, from meadows with odors of wild flowers, sweet grass,
and ripe strawberries. Bees hummed in the air, western
meadow larks sang on the prairie, willow thrushes and white-
crowned sparrows in the river valley.
But the scout could not stand heavy work in the hayfields.
He suffered from the hardships of his former life on the
plains, from an injury by a wild horse, and wounds received
in the Indian wars.
24 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Then Yellow Bird came to help in the haying. He was
a relative of the scout, a young half-breed of my own age,
strong, full of life, and a good worker when he felt like it.
But he was wild and could not be depended upon. Like
young men of the Blackfoot, he wanted to be gay and craved
excitement. He liked to wander, to hunt, to rope cattle and
ride wild horses, to see friends and visit new places, to be
always on the move; he liked jolly companions and people
who gave him a good time; but he loved to go with girls
best of all.
He took me to Indian camps to dance and see the girls.
On our way home at night, he liked to gallop past ranches
where they kept packs of ferocious dogs. They rushed after
us and he had the fun of riding at a mad gallop, yelling and
shooting at them on the run. He was thrilled at the idea of
being chased by their angry owners, and of hearing bullets
whizzing harmlessly in the dark.
We attended a meeting held by a white missionary in our
valley. I led the singing and sat in the front row with Bear
Chief and Eagle Child, who were prominent Indians. They
listened gravely and attentively but understood not a single
word. They were broad-minded chiefs and came as an
example to other Indians; to show they approved of the
missionary and of his religious ceremony.
Thus with Yellow Bird I entered into the life of the people.
I wanted to see them natural and without restraint. With
them I talked not of my life in civilization, but of things of
their everyday life, of horses and cattle, hunting and wild
animals, dancing and ceremonies. In this way I became one
of them, and they saw I was not critical of them nor of their
ways.
After we stacked eighty tons of hay at the scout's ranch,
Yellow Bird and I rode the range after stray horses and
cattle. We skirted the base of the mountains, along the
HOME OF THE SCOUT 25
foothills and edge of the forest, until we came to a well-worn
trail, which led to an open park far back in the mountains.
Many cattle were there, seeking refuge from the swarms of
flies and mosquitoes on the grass-covered prairies. Then we
found a herd of mares and geldings. Their leader, a fiery-
young stallion, tried to drive us off. But we rounded them
up with the cattle and drove them back to the ranch, feeding
them salt, that they might not again stray away.
When we wanted to break a new team for the wagon, we
drove that wild herd of range horses into the corral and las-
soed a roan and a three-year-old sorrel. We tied them with
ropes while we put on the harness, then hitched them to the
wagon and took blankets and provisions; we knew not how
far they might run.
At the start the broncos bucked and plunged; then ran
and tried to tear themselves loose from the rattling wagon,
bounding over rocks, swinging as though it would turn over.
After running many miles, our broncos broke into a stampede
so wild that Yellow Bird turned them up a butte and put
the brakes on hard. They galloped up one side of that steep
butte and down the other, our wagon plunging over ruts,
stones, and badger holes, and into a swamp in the valley of
a stream, where they sank deep into soft muck and the wagon
went down over the hubs. But they soon freed themselves,
and, with their sides covered with foamy sweat, they pulled
us through to firm ground. Then they ran again and did not
stop, until we were far out on the open plains. That night
we tied up our wild team and slept peacefully under the
wagon, twenty-five miles from the ranch.
Sometimes in the evening, after our work at the ranch, we
saddled our horses and rode down the river to see two sisters
who were home from school, Katoyisa and Ninake. Their
father, Lone Wolf, was dead, and they lived alone with their
mother, a quiet, pleasant-faced woman. Their log cabin of
26 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
three rooms had low ceilings, and walls of hewn logs chinked
and plastered, all whitewashed and clean. The floor was
spotless and covered with skins of wolf, bear, and mountain
goat; in the windows were grasses and ferns and wild flowers,
and a dish of fragrant red apples on a table.
Ninake, the younger sister, was the favorite of Yellow
Bird. She was lively, a great talker, and gave him a good
time. But I liked Katoyisa better, a quiet bashful girl of
nineteen, with shapely head and good features. Her black
hair hung in two heavy braids almost to her knees. She
wore homemade cotton gowns of thin material which showed
her slender graceful form. From the look in her eyes and
expression of her face, I knew she had courage and character.
In her was the stuff of our bravest pioneers.
After we had finished with the hay of the scout, Yellow
Bird and I went to their ranch to help with their crops. The
girls cooked and gave us good food, fresh vegetables from
their garden, beef, bread and butter and milk.
Many years have passed, but they have not dimmed the
memory of those happy days without a care in the world, the
primitive simplicity of that family, and the way they made
me one of them. We both enjoyed our work, we were near
the girls from morning till night, and that kept us in a good
humor.
Then the scout wanted timber from the mountains, so we
took two teams and made ready the wagons. We threw off
their beds and placed the wheels far apart by means of a
long reach, to hold the heavy logs. Yellow Bird drove one
wagon and I the other. For me it was a new thing to drive
a team of broncos. I sat on the reach, on a gunnysack stuffed
with hay. I had to wield a whip with a long lash, and had a
heavy chain for binding the logs together.
We left the ranch soon after sunrise and went to a burned
stretch of timber on a slope of the Rockies. We felled only
HOME OF THE SCOUT 27
trees that were sound and well-seasoned, cutting them into
logs and snaking them down the forest trails to be loaded on
our wagons.
At first it was hard to chop hour after hour with an axe.
I blistered my hands and was drenched with sweat; my arms
and back ached; I felt weak in the knees and had a consuming
thirst. Then I became accustomed to the work and had a
feeling of exhilaration. I liked the fresh odor of the wood, the
ring of my axe and the feeling of a good stroke, to know my
sharp blade was cutting deep.
There was always danger of being cut with an axe, from
felling trees that had lodged, and from Yellow Bird; some-
times his trees fell perilously near. Once I was nearly
struck by a pine that let go at the roots; I heard a sharp
crackling, saw it coming towards me and jumped just in
time.
But for me the hardest work was the loading of the
wagons. The heavy logs were twenty-five feet long and
from one to two feet in diameter. The roads were steep and
rough and our brakes would not hold. But we always joked
about hard work and danger, and had to look out for our-
selves.
Soon Yellow Bird tired of ranch work and wanted a change.
He proposed that we ride across the Montana line into Can-
ada, to visit relatives in a camp of Blood Indians, a northern
division of the tribe. So we rounded up the wild herd of range
horses and drove them into the corral. We each chose a sad-
dle horse, Yellow Bird a brown with silvery mane and tail, I a
powerful sorrel. My gentle horse, Kutenai, I left to graze at
the ranch.
In handling horses that ran wild on the range, we were
always ready for trouble. To control them was a question of
mastery; they took kind treatment as a sign of weakness.
When I tried to saddle my sorrel, he rose on his hind legs and
28 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
with forefeet high in the air tried to bring them down on my
head. In mounting, I held his bit in one hand, the pommel
with the other, and made a flying leap upon his back. Before
I was in the saddle, he sprang forward like a race horse at a
desperate gallop. He had an easy motion and I kept my seat;
but to stop him baffled all of my endeavors.
We went north across the open plains, without fences or
roads to bar the way. Our horses ran like the wind; we gave
them free rein and held on. I rode Indian fashion, letting
myself go freely with the motion of my horse and kept a firm
grip with my knees.
The first night we stopped at the cabin of a squaw man,
near a rocky peak which rose abruptly out of the prairie,
standing apart from the main range of the Rocky Mountains.
Our host was a white man with an Indian wife and four half-
breed children, the oldest a girl of seventeen. She and Yellow
Bird were sweethearts; and while they made love by the river,
I went into the meadow to help the old man with his hay.
He was one of those poineer settlers of early days, short and
sinewy in stature, and with a heavy beard. His life had been
filled with hardships, toil, and little pleasures. He was sus-
picious by nature, and liked to talk about free silver; but at
heart he was a good fellow, resolute, brave, a hard worker and
hospitable. His Indian wife was a laughing, broad-faced
woman, good-natured and lazy. Their cabin was dirty and
swarmed with flies. The second daughter was strangely
pretty, with flashing black eyes, jet black hair, and marvel-
ously clear olive skin. She had a pet colt which followed her
like a dog. He came into the cabin for supper. When they
put him out, he ran to the open window and poked me in the
back with his nose; he whinnied and grunted and made such
a fuss that his young mistress went to the window and gave
him sugar.
Soon after sunrise on the following morning Yellow Bird
HOME OF THE SCOUT 29
and I saddled our broncos and moved on. To the west rose
the mighty frontier range of the Rockies. The rugged valleys
and peaks still had a thin veil of morning mist. In the cool
air our horses had wonderful speed. They chafed at the bit
and were tireless, as though their sinews were of steel. But,
after that first day, they were not so hard to hold. •
We crossed buttes on the run, up hill and down, it was all
the same; in steep places our horses put their feet together
and slid. They jumped streams, rocks, and badger holes;
galloped over ledges and sharp volcanic rocks, across hills and
ravines; it was beautiful to see them go; they never stum-
bled, but lifted their feet cleanly up and over, and always
planted them securely and firmly. We passed lakes and
marshy ponds, starting noisy flocks of ducks and other water
birds, crossed Boundary Creek, and were over the Montana
line into the Province of Alberta.
We came to the ranch of a Frenchman named Big Steve,
far out on the prairie. He and his wife were pitching hay in a
meadow. She was buxom and smiling, with rosy cheeks and
did the work of a man. Both were friendly and wanted to
talk, but we could not tarry; our horses were wild and hard
to hold.
At midday we dashed into a Mormon settlement, and a
number of men came to meet us. They all looked alike, over
six feet in height, with smooth faces and prominent features.
They were good-natured and hospitable and gave us all the
food we could eat. But it was a dreary place on a barren
plain, a group of board shanties, without trees or vegetation.
I thought to myself: "How dull an existence compared to
our life in the Indian country, with dances and games, feasts
and ceremonies!"
Near the border line we entered a region of bandits and
law-breakers. We saw a white man who tried to hold us up,
but we spurred our broncos and they ran so fast he gave up
3 o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
the chase; then a band of Blood Indians closely muffled in
their blankets; they were on their way south and kept their
faces hidden. We passed another rider, who was followed by
the North-West Mounted Police; they said he was leader
of a gang of cattle thieves.
We came that afternoon to the end of our journey in a
camp of the Blood Indians. Yellow Bird took me to the home
of his relative, an elderly man named Strong. In his lodge we
met some of the head men of the tribe — Thunder Chief,
Spotted Calf, Running Coyote, and Grasshopper. They were
all friendly and glad to see us. They greeted us with "How!"
shook us by the hand and welcomed us to their feast.
For refreshments, they had a meat stew and hot tea.
Their manner of eating was different from that of people in
civilization. They ate with their fingers, gulped down the
food, sucked their teeth, and drank with a hissing intake of
the breath. But with them these were not breaches of good
manners; they were not sensitive to any of these things.
While eating they did not talk; and after the manner of
Indians showed no enthusiasm. None of them said the food
was good, or that they liked anything; nor, on the other
hand, did any one grumble or say the food was bad.
After the feast they smoked a large pipe of polished red-
stone, which was handed stem first to each person. Then
they talked, speaking rapidly, in guttural voices that were
not harsh, and making graceful gestures with their hands.
The Indian named Grasshopper had a reputation as a wit.
He kept them laughing — all but Thunder Chief, who was
head man and had his dignity to maintain.
Grasshopper wore a coyote-skin cap with the tail hanging
down behind and an eagle feather on top; slung over his
shoulder was a polished buffalo horn. He had beaded moc-
casins and leggings, and a blanket coat with bright stripes.
After we had eaten, he turned to me and said with a laugh:
HOME OF THE SCOUT 31
"You look like an eagle. You sit straight and with your
head up. Now is the time to shake your tail feathers, like an
eagle after it eats." This was Indian humor and made the
others laugh.
Grasshopper was the life of the party. He said his parents
died when he was small. He was raised by a chief named
Red Crow, who had started many boys in life; he had be-
come a successful man, because he followed the advice of his
adopted father.
Grasshopper was pleased when he saw me recording his
conversation in my notebook. He said: "Now I am going
to tell you some stories." I sat waiting, but he did not begin;
so I said: "Go ahead; I am ready."
To make the others laugh, he held out his hand saying:
"How much do you pay?" I took his outstretched hand,
shook it and said: "That is what I pay."
Then every one laughed, even the dignified head chief
joined in. They liked the repartee and wanted more.
Grasshopper said: "Well, instead of paying he only shakes."
He turned to the head-chief and said: "This white man is
a great traveler. I like him and want him for my partner.
We had better keep him here with us."
And then he said to me: "Why don't you join our tribe
and stay with us? You could take an Indian wife; you could
hunt and trap and make a good living."
That evening we sat outside the lodge and watched the
sun go down fiery red, with its glow reflected in a near-by
stream. Then the moon, nearly full, rose over the distant
hills of the prairie, like a ghostly phantom in the twilight.
Then by the lodge-fire the Indians told stories of their
hunting trips and war expeditions of former days. They
talked far into the night, and next morning we saddled our
horses early and rode back to Montana. ;
CHAPTER V
STORIES BY THE SCOUT'S MOTHER-IN-LAW
One day Two-Bear- Woman, mother of the scout's wife,
came to our ranch. She pitched her lodge in the meadow,
not far from my bed on the river bank. After dark I watched
it, glowing with yellow light from an inside fire. And,
when the dying fire made shadows dance on the lodge wall,
there was an air of mystery about her tepee. At night I
heard the old woman praying and chanting weird songs of
old days, in a quavering voice ana beating on a tom-tom.
The sound was mournful and made me feel sad; I lay awake
and listened until late in the night.
Two-Bear-Woman was the widow of a famous medicine
man named Four Bears. She was said to have occult powers
and was looked upon as a wise woman. She could see visions,
dream dreams, doctor, and do mysterious things. She was
something of a shrew, with sharp tongue and quick temper,
but industrious and skilled in all the arts of Indian women —
tanning, making clothes and lodges, and the knowledge of
herbs and plants.
The scout never went near the lodge of his mother-in-law,
nor could she visit her daughter while her son-in-law was at
home, according to tribal custom. A mother-in-law had no
dealings with her son-in-law, nor could they even speak to
each other.
So I went with White Antelope to call upon the old woman.
One evening by her lodge-fire she talked about her husband.
She said he was a man of influence and stood high in the tribe.
When danger threatened, the chiefs used to call upon him
for help. As head medicine man it was his custom to officiate
STORIES BY THE SCOUT'S MOTHER-IN-LAW 33
at tribal meetings and ceremonies. He was mediator be-
tween the Great Spirit and his people. He fasted and prayed
and helped the tribe by means of his supernatural power.
He was both prophet and priest. Besides being a man of
mystery, he had a reputation as a doctor. His power to heal
came from the buffalo through a vision, after long fasting
and prayer. When he doctored, he wore an old buffalo robe
decorated with a yellow buffalo head. He carried a medicine
drum which was painted yellow, also his body, with a cres-
cent on his forehead for the moon and marks over his temples
for sun dogs. He wore a wonderful belt which had supernat-
ural power, an otter-skin to keep him young and an eagle
feather to ward off danger in battle. The old woman said
that after the death of her husband his ghost had come every
night to protect her from harm.
Then, as we sat and smoked and the fire burned low,
Two-Bear- Woman told legends and stories. She liked blood-
curdling tales and gloated over one of a warrior who went mad.
The Warrior who ate his Foot
"Long ago, two warriors named Arrow Top and Black
Horse went to war against their enemies the Crow Indians.
They left home in the early summer and did not start back
until it was time for snow in the autumn. They had a hard
time; the weather was bad and their food gave out. One
evening at dark, they came to two old shelters made of
willow branches, which stood close together. It was snowing
and cold, and they were tired and hungry. They had no food,
so each crawled into a shelter and lay down to sleep.
" In the night Arrow Top was wakened by a queer sound —
his friend was hacking with his knife. Then he smacked his
lips and drew in his breath, saying: 'Mmmmmm, this foot
is fine, it is tender and juicy and has a good taste.'
"He shouted: 'Hai there! Arrow Top! Come and eat.
34 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
I have plenty of meat. This leg is tender and juicy; I have a
good slice for you.'
"Then Arrow Top peeped into the other shelter and saw
a terrible sight. His friend was covered with blood. He had
cut off his own foot and was roasting a piece of the flesh over
a fire. Then he hacked at his leg, and when there was
nothing left but the bone, he began digging out the marrow
with his knife.
"Again he called, and getting no answer he shouted:
'Arrow Top, I say, come and join in my feast; I have saved
a fine piece of juicy meat for you.'
"By this time day was beginning to dawn and Arrow
Top tried to run away. But Black Horse saw him and fol-
lowed; it was a cold night and the blood of his wounded leg
froze. He ran on his mangled stump, shouting for his friend
to wait. He begged him not to go and leave him alone.
"Arrow Top was so frightened he climbed a tree and tried
to hide in the branches. But Black Horse saw him. He was
so mad he foamed at the mouth. He came to the tree and
shouted:
"'You dog-face, I see you there. I asked you to come and
eat with me, but you ran away and left me to die. You can't
escape me. I am going to catch you now and kill you.'
"He struck at Arrow Top with his knife and tried to
climb the tree. He fell down because of his mangled leg; he
got so mad he ran at the tree. He kicked the trunk with the
sharp bone of his leg, until it stuck fast in a crack. He
wept and raved; he twisted and turned and tried to tear
himself loose.
"Then Arrow Top jumped from the tree and struck out
for home. He did not stop running until he came to the camp.
He told his story to the head men and they took a band of
warriors. They found Black Horse dead, with the sharp bone
of his leg still fast in the crack of the tree."
CHAPTER VI
MY ADOPTION BY MAD WOLF
Near the end of summer, I met Mad Wolf on the prairie.
He was alone and signed that he wanted to talk with me.
He was mounted on a restless bronco, and held a rawhide
quirt in his hand. From his neck hung a bone whistle,
made from the wing of an eagle; and in his hair a single
eagle feather stood erect. He dismounted from his horse and
stood waiting; and when I came to him, he shook hands;
then looked earnestly into my face, and said:
"From the time you first came to live in my country, I
have been watching you, and my heart feels warm towards
you. I have never taken a son from the white men; now I
want to adopt you, because I believe that some day you will
be a chief among your people. I am growing old, and it is
probable that I shall go before you to dwell with the Great
Spirit, for you are still a young man. After I am gone, you
will then be left, to help and to advise my people."
I told Mad Wolf that I wanted to be his son. He pointed
towards the north and said:
"My lodge is out yonder on the prairie. It is beyond that
long range of hills and cannot be seen from here. Come to-
morrow when the sun is high. I will hold a ceremony. I will
paint you with the sacred paint; and in the presence of my
relatives and friends, will adopt you as my son."
In after years, I saw more clearly Mad Wolf's purpose
in taking a white son. His tribe were rulers of a vast domain
of plains and forest- covered mountains. Great herds of
buffalo and other game furnished them with an abundance
of meat for food and skins for clothes and shelter. But the
36 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
coming of the white man caused the disintegration of his
tribe. The herds of wild animals quickly disappeared and
with them the chief support of the Indians. An advancing
tide of white settlers came like the invasion of an enemy;
they introduced smallpox, measles, scarlet fever, and other
contagious diseases. The white men were shrewd and un-
principled. They traded whiskey and debauched the Indians;
they occupied their country; they always got the best of them
in their deals. Indian children were sent to white men's
schools; they did not learn their native tongue; old tribal
customs, traditions, and religion were no longer handed
down.
Wher. a white man whom he trusted came to live among
his people, Mad Wolf decided to adopt him as his son. He
foresaw the doom of his tribe. He wanted a son among
the white men upon whom he could depend; one able to
help his tribe, who would go to the Great Father at Washing-
ton and intercede in their behalf. The old chief was wise;
he saw that an Indian could not accomplish his purpose.
The following morning, I rode Kutenai across the prairie
in search of Mad Wolf's summer camp. From the summit of
a ridge, I saw the white tepees in a meadow amid grass-
covered hills. The sky was overcast and a strong wind
shook the lodges, which were anchored to the ground by long
ropes around their tops. I heard the sound of chanting and
beating of drums. For a moment I waited on the hill, listen-
ing to the weird singing and thinking of the days when the
lodges of Mad Wolf's tribe were numbered by thousands and
they were the rulers of their country.
After the song had ceased, I rode down from the hill.
Dismounting before the large lodge of the chief, I lifted the
door-flap and looked inside. Mad Wolf saw me and shouted,
"Okye!" (Welcome.) I entered and saw Mad Wolf seated
at the back, the position of honor, with the fire between
MAD WOLF
MY ADOPTION BY MAD WOLF 37
himself and the door. He shook hands and motioned me to
a place at his left, among the other men, and said: "Bring
a robe for him to sit upon." Morning Plume, who was near-
est, greeted me with a smile and made ready my seat. Other
Indians present were, Blessed Weasel, Heavy Breast,
Double Runner, Middle Calf, Bear Child, and Many- White-
Horses, so named because he owned many horses of that
color. The men were all seated on Mad Wolf's left, the
women and children on his right.
Between Mad Wolf and his wife Gives-to-the-Sun, who
sat on his right, lay the sacred Beaver Bundle. It contained
the skins of beaver and other wild animals, which were be-
lieved to contribute Sun Power to the Bundle. 1 It was opened
in a religious ceremony, given in behalf of the sick, or on
other important occasions. From the lodge-poles hung
beaded clothing and sacred bundles with long leather fringes
hanging from their sides and decorated with painted designs.
Mad Wolf was a noble specimen of Indian chief. His long
gray hair fell loosely over his shoulders, and his face had a
kindly and benign expression. He was large in stature and
of majestic presence, with broad forehead and high cheek
bones, keen eyes and firm mouth. From the waist up his
body was bare. He had broad shoulders and chest and his
arms were muscular and well formed, like those of a young
man. He wore leggings of deerskin, moccasins decorated
with colored porcupine quills and necklaces of deer bones and
bear claws. A medicine whistle, with which he led his beaver
ceremony, hung by a thong from his neck.
All sat in silence, waiting for the ceremony of adoption to
begin. Then Gives-to-the-Sun, wife of the chief, whispered
to a young woman; she straightway rose and stirred a large
kettle of service-berries and tongue, which was cooking on
the fire. Mad Wolf pointed to her and said to me: "She is
1 For descriptions of Beaver Bundle, see Chapters VII and VIII.
38 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
your Indian sister, Strikes-on-Both-Sides. We gave her that
name because, in battle, I once struck down enemies on both
sides."
Gives-to-the-Sun brought forth a forked stick. She went
to the fire, and, lifting out a live coal, placed it in front of
Mad Wolf, who burned dried sweet grass upon it. Soon a
fragrant perfume like incense filled the lodge; and they began
to sing a low chant in a minor key, in which all the Indians
joined.
Then Mad Wolf and his wife knelt by the burning sweet
grass; they placed their hands in the rising smoke; they
seemed to grasp the smoke; they rubbed it over their bodies
and passed it over their heads, shoulders and arms; they
breathed it in; thus purifying themselves without and within.
Suddenly the clouds broke and the sun shone into the lodge.
Its bright rays came through the smoke hole and lighted up
the ground in front of Mad Wolf. Again he held his hands in
the smoke of the burning sweet grass. He passed them over
his arms and breast for a blessing; and turning his face to-
wards the sun, he chanted:
"See! Our Father, the Sun, shines into the lodge.
Kis power is very strong.
At night our Mother, the Moon, shines into the lodge.
Her power is very strong.
I pray Morning Star to shine into the lodge and bring long life."
Mad Wolf took a willow branch, which was painted red.
He placed it in turn on his right and left shoulders, and prayed
for long life. He handed the branch to me; and I laid it on
both my shoulders, while he prayed to the Sun that I might
live to be old. Then the branch was passed round the lodge
for every one to pray with.
Mad Wolf and Gives-to-the-Sun knelt by a long bundle
and sang four times. After the fourth song, they began to
loosen the thongs of the bundle, but they still sang, chanting
MY ADOPTION BY MAD WOLF 39
a slower and more monotonous song. After the thongs had
been untied, Mad Wolf chanted and prayed and removed the
cover, revealing a large redstone pipe. For a moment the
old chief bent over it in silence; then raised it slowly and
tenderly, addressing it in a soft caressing voice; he pressed it
to his lips and prayed to it. He passed it over his arms for a
blessing, then over his shoulders and both sides of his head.
Again he chanted, moving the pipe in time with his song:
"Pity us! OSun! O Moon! O Stars!
Mother Earth! Pity us! Pity Us!
Give us food and drink.
Bless our children, may their trails lie straight."
Mad Wolf passed the pipe to Blessed Weasel, who held it
before his face; he prayed long and earnestly with bowed
head. Then Blessed Weasel handed the pipe to me. I held it
reverently for a moment and passed it to Morning Plume;
and thus it went round the lodge, until it came to the women,
who also prayed with it, and passed it over the bodies of their
little children, believing it would help them, too. People who
did not pray, went through the motions of touching the pipe
to both sides of their heads and shoulders. Some prayed
aloud and others only whispered. But every one who prayed
made the sign for receiving a blessing, and, at the same time
wished for something.
Finally the pipe came back to Mad Wolf. He arose and
danced round the fire with it, while the others sang in unison.
He moved the pipe in time with the song, blowing on his
medicine whistle, and facing, first towards the east, then
south, west and north, following the direction of the sun's
course through the heavens. After he sat down, the pipe
was passed around the lodge for every one to smoke.
Then Mad Wolf turned his face towards the Beaver Bun-
dle, which contained the skins of many birds and animals.
He prayed solemnly and earnestly:
4 o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"Hear! Above-Spirits and Underground-Spirits, birds and
animals, our secret helpers. Pity us! Pity us! Give us long
life! May we live to be old! Listen, Spirits! This young man
with the light hair, let him live. Care for him and let no
harm come to him from evil men or wild animals. May
all his relatives live long and have plenty. Let our young
people grow, and our men, women, and children have a full
life and be happy."
At the end of the prayer, all in the lodge united in a
long-drawn " Ah-h-h-h-h," meaning "Yes" or "Amen."
Then Mad Wolf brought forth a small pouch of red clay,
the sacred paint. There was an impressive silence while he
prepared it in his hands, and said: "Now is the time for my
white son to come." He motioned to me. I went before him
and knelt, while he painted my forehead, chin, and both
cheeks, describing a circle and representing the sun's daily
course through the heavens. He took a beaver-skin from his
sacred bundle, and passed it down both sides of my head,
shoulders, and arms; then ended with an upward sweep, by
which he imparted his blessing, and prayed:
" Before you, my Father, Great Sun Chief,
I now adopt this white man as my son.
Let the red paint be like the sunlight,
To protect and bring him health and strength.
May all my people be kind and help him,
That he may be happy, as long as he remains among his
Indian brothers and sisters.
My Father, the Sun, keep him from harm,
When he goes again to his home towards the rising sun.
Give him light by day,
That his path may be free from danger.
If he should go into the wrong trail,
Lead him safely back,
That his path may be firm and downhill to old age."
After the prayer, Mad Wolf and Blessed Weasel opened a
bundle of buffalo and elk hides, which were spread before
the men. Rattles of rawhide, containing small pebbles, were
MAD WOLF PRAYING
t JM&
s
■,■7' --
r
MAD WOLF S SACRED BEAVER BUNDLE
MY ADOPTION BY MAD WOLF 4 i
also distributed among them for beating on the hides. Mad
Wolf handed two of the rattles to me and said: "You are now
my son and should take part in the ceremony." Then kneel-
ing with the Indians, I joined in the chants and in beating
time with my rattles on a buffalo hide.
One song we sang represented a porcupine on a hill, watch-
ing a beaver at work. The porcupine said: "I will take my
bow and arrows and kill you." But the beaver escaped by
swimming under the water. We also sang the song of the
war eagle, soaring high over the mountains and at times
swooping down for its prey.
At sunset Mad Wolf brought the ceremony to a close with
the prayer:
"Father, the Sun! Continue to give us light,
That the leaves and grass may grow.
May our cattle increase, and our children live to be old.
Mother, the Moon! Give us sleep,
That we may rise again like our Father, the Sun.
May our lives be strong.
May our hearts feel good towards our white brothers,
We are all your children."
After the feast of soup made of service berries and tongue,
Mad Wolf made a sign that the ceremony was over; and all
rose and filed out of the lodge.
CHAPTER VII
MAD WOLF TELLS THE LEGEND OF THE
BEAVER BUNDLE
After the ceremony Mad Wolf reclined upon his couch and
smoked with half-closed eyes. I sat near him, gazing at
the sacred Beaver Bundle, thinking of its mysterious power
over the Indian, and its strange superstitions handed down
through many generations. There was a long silence; the
fire burned low and twilight settled over prairie and camp.
Finally Mad Wolf knocked the ashes from his pipe. He
signed for me to help him remove the robe which covered the
Beaver Bundle. For a moment he allowed me to gaze upon
it, when the robe was reverently replaced. Then Mad Wolf
said earnestly, as though he were thinking back into the
distant past:
"Before the white men came into our country, we lived
content, and were happy in our religion. We worshiped the
Sun. In those days we had many powerful chiefs and wise
men. There were no white men, and we wandered wherever
we pleased. We had plenty of food. We killed buffalo in
great numbers by driving them over cliffs, and the young
men who were good in the buffalo drives were famous.
"The information I have came from wise men of the older
generation, and what they told me was true. Never before
have I talked in this way to a white man; I have always been
afraid to trust them. But I tell you these things, because
I believe in you. I feel towards you as a father to a son. I
want to hand down my secrets through you.
"I come from a long-lived family. My father's name was
Big Bonnet and that of my mother, Bear Woman. My father
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAVER BUNDLE 43
taught me many things; but he died when I was ten years
old. In my youth I was wild, like many others, and I
was still a young man when I had a narrow escape from
death. When the danger had passed, I felt glad to be
alive. I looked up to the Sun and made my first vow. After
that I became thoughtful and wanted to do something to
help my tribe. The following summer at the Sun Dance,
when many people were assembled, I stood before them and
made known my vow. Then for the first time I took part
in the ceremonies in the sun lodge; and I have continued to
do so ever since.
"When my wife was ill, and I thought she was going to
die, I made a vow to the Sun, that if she recovered, I would
take the Beaver Bundle. White Calf, the head-chief, was
then its guardian. It came into his care from an Indian of
the Blood tribe. Now if a man makes a vow to take the
bundle, the owner cannot keep it. So, when my wife was
restored to health, I made known my vow. I had to make
payment to White Calf in many things — horses, robes, and
blankets. But my friends and relatives helped. These people
now own shares in the bundle. Some of them have become
beaver men and now take part with me in the ceremony.
When I took over the bundle, I had to learn the songs, pray-
ers, dances, and movements, which make up the ceremony.
I had to pay for everything, and I found that a man must
have a good memory to remember it all. My woman helps me
with the bundle, and it is necessary for her to take part in
the ceremony. She leads the other women in their songs and
dances, and directs them in whatever they do. The bundle
is kept at the back of the lodge and should be taken outside
only when we move camp."
Mad Wolf gave me an old medicine sack woven in differ-
ent colors, containing the two rattles which I had used in
the ceremony of adoption, with the instructions to always
44 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
carry them with me, that I might be ready to take part,
whenever he gave a ceremony. He also gave me a buckskin
bag with seeds of the tobacco, and said:
"Tobacco was first given to us at the same time with the
Beaver Bundle by the Chief of the Beavers. These seeds are
sacred, because they came from the * Dwarf People,' who
look after our crops of tobacco. We try to keep these little
people in good humor, by giving them presents of clothes
and moccasins and sacks of food, which we leave outside the
tepee with the prayer:
"'Dwarf People! Here are clothes and food. We ask you
to look after our tobacco crop.'
"No one should ever try to watch the Dwarf People at
work. Any one who sees them is sure to die.
"We always give a beaver ceremony in the spring, when
the tobacco seeds are planted; also because spring is the time
when beavers are accustomed to leave their winter dens. For
the crop we select a lonely place near a stream or a river,
where the land is fertile. And before planting, we cover the
ground with the dung of deer, antelope, and mountain sheep.
This makes the tobacco grow fast, because these animals ars
swift runners. We never use the dung of elk or moose; they
walk slowly and might retard its growth. We first hold the
beaver ceremony, and then dig up the ground with sharp-
pointed sticks. While planting we sing songs and burn sweet
grass as incense. And when we have finished every one must
go away. No one stays to see the Dwarf People at work, nor
returns to look at the crop, until it is time for the tobacco to
be gathered. If the season is dry and the tobacco needs rain,
I take the otter-skin from the Beaver Bundle and tie it to a
pole. It floats in the wind and is sure to bring rain. When
the crop is ready I call the people together. We put up a
large tepee for a dance and have a feast which lasts four days
and four nights. Then the Beaver men pull up the plants.
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAVER BUNDLE 45
We mix the leaves with those of the bearberry (kinne-
kinnick), and distribute it among the people.
"The owner of a Beaver Bundle has power to forecast the
weather; he must keep track of the moons and be able to
read signs in the sky. In winter, if the buffalo disappear, and
the snow is deep and people starve, the owner brings out the
Beaver Bundle and charms the buffalo back to the camp.
Any one who is ill or in trouble can make a vow, and the
beaver ceremony will be given in their behalf. They must
pay the owner of the bundle a horse, robe, or blanket, what-
ever they are able to give.
"There is much trouble and expense in keeping a Beaver
Bundle. But I am happy in giving the ceremony; and it
brings good fortune to a family. It makes a man a greater
chief, and gives his family a prominent position in the tribe.
There are many rules in its care, which bring misfortune if
not carefully observed. The sides of the tepee, where the
bundle is kept, must never be raised, nor should any of the
cooking be done outside the lodge. Food must be given to
every one who comes as guest; and, when the owner of the
bundle goes into another lodge, he must not change from
the place where he first takes his seat. No one should ever
pass in front of the beaver man when he is smoking. If he
goes for a swim, he must sing a certain song before entering
the water. He has power over the water, and must never
show fear of water. If he comes to a deep stream, he must
cross quickly, and not hesitate or turn away. He must not
eat a beaver or strike a dog or kill any of the birds or animals
that are represented in the Beaver Bundle. He must not beat
his wife without singing first the appropriate song. But if she
sings the 'Defense Song,' it makes her safe. Otherwise, she
cannot escape from the beating, because it would be in vain
to run away."
46 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Legend of the Beaver Bundle
"The Beaver Bundle is very old. It came to us in the days
when our ancestors used dogs instead of horses for beasts of
burden. They had tools and weapons of stone and wore
clothes made of animal skins. In those days of long ago lived
a poor young man. He wore an old robe badly tanned. The
corners were cut ofF. It had a queer shape, and the people
called him Round-Cut-Robe. In the same camp was a chief
named Red Horn who had three wives. The youngest was
badly treated by her husband and the other two wives.
Round-Cut-Robe was her secret lover. He was so poor he
did not have a tepee of his own. He lived through the camp,
wherever he could find shelter. One day he said to his sweet-
heart:
"'I shall go to an unknown place, because I am ashamed.
I want to have a dream. Perhaps some of the birds or animals
may pity me and give me their Sun Power. If I never come
back, you will know that I am dead.'
"Round-Cut-Robe went alone over the prairies; no one
knew where he went. He had no food and became thin and
weak. He prayed to the animals for power; he wanted a
dream to guide him. Finally he came to a place in the moun-
tains where the beavers had a lodge, a big pool in a river
where they swam and worked. Round-Cut-Robe made a
shelter near their den. He stayed there night and day, crying
and acting like an unhappy person; he wanted the beavers to
pity him. For four days and nights he lay by their lodge, but
none of the beavers appeared. Then he cried again and called
upon the Under-Water-Spirits. He prayed:
"'O Sun! I put away all that is bad. Moon and Stars,
pity me and give me power!'
"Then a small beaver came from the lodge and said: 'My
father invites you.' He followed the little beaver into their
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAVER BUNDLE 47
lodge, and saw a beaver with his family gathered around.
This beaver was white from the snows of many winters, and
so large that Round-Cut-Robe knew he was the chief of all
the beavers.
"The beaver chief asked why he traveled alone, and the
young man said:
"'There is a woman who loves me. I am poor and am
trying to get power.'
"Then the old beaver felt sorry for him and invited him
to stay in their lodge, saying:
"'If you remain here with us through the winter, we will
teach you many wonderful things; and in the spring you can
go home again.'
"Round-Cut-Robe was glad to stay in their lodge. When
the beavers went out to work, he went along and watched
them cut down many trees and bushes for their winter food
— birch, poplar, cottonwood, red willow and willow brush.
They told him to take back four things into the lodge; and,
in the night, when the moon was high, the beaver chief
changed them into food for his winter supply — pemmican
and ripe berries.
" The beavers closed their lodge when the river began to
freeze; but left a hole for air at the top. On the coldest days
they kept Round-Cut-Robe warm, by laying their tails
across his body. He made friends with them all, but he liked
Little Beaver the best. He was the cleverest, and the favorite
child of the beaver chief. During the winter the beavers
taught Round-Cut-Robe many wonderful things. They gave
him the paint, and showed him how to use it to ward off
sickness and death. They taught him how to count the
moons and gave him the first seeds of the tobacco, showing
him how they should be planted with songs and prayers;
and they told him about the different herbs and plants,
which the Indians have used ever since for eating and healing.
48 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"One day Little Beaver said to his friend: 'Spring will
soon come. When the ice breaks up in the river and the trees
begin to bud, it will be time for you to go home. But, be-
fore you leave our lodge, my father will offer you something
to take back with you. Choose only the beaver-gnawed-
stick which hangs at the head of his couch. He will not want
to part with it. He will try to persuade you to take other
things. But if you get that stick, you will become a great
chief, because his power goes with it.'
"When the snow had gone and the ice was breaking up
in the river, Round-Cut-Robe said it was time for him to go
home. The Beaver Chief offered him anything he saw in
their lodge to take with him. Then Round-Cut-Robe re-
membered the advice of his friend Little Beaver and asked
for the beaver-gnawed-stick. The Beaver Chief tried to
make him choose something else. But at last he gave him
the stick and said:
"'With it goes my power with water. If you should ever be
in trouble and call upon Little Beaver, he will be your helper.'
"Before Round-Cut-Robe left, the Beaver Chief gave him
the Beaver Bundle. He taught him the songs, prayers, and
dances that go with the ceremony; and said that, if any one
were ill or dying, and a relative made a vow to the bundle,
the sick person would be restored to health. The ceremony
should be given every new moon, keeping track of the moons
with counting-sticks. When seven moons were counted, the
winter would be over, and it would be time for the beavers
to open their lodge for the summer.
"It was the beginning of spring when Round-Cut-Robe
came home. But he did not enter camp at once. He sat on a
hill in plain sight until the people saw him and a messenger
came out. Then many people came to meet him on the hill,
and he told them how he had lived seven moons in the lodge
of the beavers.
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAVER BUNDLE 49
"After Round-Cut- Robe came back, he gathered together
the sacred bundle as the Beaver Chief had instructed. He
called upon many birds and animals of the prairies and
mountains to add their power. And, when the Beaver
Bundle was finished, he invited many people to the ceremony.
He showed them the way the beavers danced and they
heard for the first time the songs and prayers that went with
the ceremony."
RoUND-CuT-ROBE GOES TO War
"Now in those days the Indians used to have a woman's
dance. The women who danced stood in a circle, and the
people who watched were on the outside. If a woman loved
a man, she dressed like him and took part in the dance; in
that way every one would know. The people had a lively
interest in this dance. They liked to stand around, to joke
at the women and to guess the names of their secret lovers.
If a man saw his wife in the dance, he recognized the cos-
tume she wore. The men encouraged their wives in this
dance and then the women were not afraid. When it became
known that women were free to dress like their sweethearts,
they had a good time. They imitated each other and took
pride in having side-husbands.
"Soon after Round-Cut-Robe came back, after living
with the beavers, the woman's dance was being held. The
people were crowding round and shouting at the dancers.
Red Horn, the chief with the three wives, came near. He saw
two of his wives in the dance, but the youngest wife was not
there. She alone stayed away. Then he found her in his
tepee. He taunted her and said:
"'How does it come you don't dance like the others?
Maybe you wait because your lover is a bashful man.' He
said this to make fun of her. And the girl replied:
"'I shall go to the dance. I shall get his clothes.' So she
So OLD INDIAN TRAILS
went to Round-Cut-Robe. She dressed herself in his clothes
and painted her face as he was accustomed to do. But before
she left him to enter the dance, her lover said:
"'All those other women dancers are going to talk before
the crowd. When it comes your turn, don't be afraid.
What I tell you to say will come true.' And then he told her
what she must say.
"Then the girl went to the dance and found all the other
women in line; she was the last to come. They had finished
the first song. Every one stared at her; and they laughed
because she was poorly dressed. She had red earth on her
cheeks, and wore an old robe that was badly tanned. It had
the corners cut off and had a queer shape. Some one in the
crowd shouted:
"'Those are the clothes of Round-Cut-Robe. She must be
his sweetheart.'
"Then all the people laughed and her friends and relatives
were ashamed, because she had a lover who was poor. The
head-chief shouted for them to go on with the dance. So the
women sang their second song; and after that they made
their talks. The crowd called for the poor girl, and she
stood up before them. In her hand she held a beaver-gnawed-
stick. She said:
"'Listen, men and women! I know my relatives are
ashamed of me, but what I tell you now will come true.
W 7 hen the rivers are warm (midsummer) I shall go to war.
A river will be high, but deep water cannot stop me. I shall
swim across and kill an enemy.'
"Then the crowd laughed. They said: 'We know that her
lover cannot do this. He is poor and has never been to
war.'
"After that a war expedition made ready to go south
against their enemies, the Snake Indians. Round-Cut-Robe
said to his sweetheart:
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAVER BUNDLE 51
"'I shall go to war with them, and all that you promised
will come true.'
"He took no weapons, only his beaver-gnawed-stick. He
followed behind the other warriors; he did not go with the
rest. They were on the road many nights, and came at last
to the Yellowstone River. The Snake Indians were camped
on the other side. But the water was high, and they could
not cross to fight. Then Round-Cut-Robe went to Little
Dog, their war chief, and said:
"'Over there is the head-chief of the Snakes. I shall go
across and kill him.'
"But Little Dog laughed at him. He said that the current
was swift and he would be drowned. Then Round-Cut-
Robe made ready. He tied up his long hair and thrust into
it a stone knife. He sang his beaver song and prayed to
Little Beaver for help. Holding the beaver-gnawed-stick
in his mouth, he struck the water like a beaver and dove.
Halfway across, he came up and sang his beaver song. Again
he dove and swam under water, until he came to the other
shore; and then he stood up, holding the beaver stick in his
mouth. The head-chief of the Snakes saw him coming. He
sang his war song and ran into the water. He threw his long
spear at Round-Cut-Robe. But it struck the beaver stick,
and did him no harm.
"Then Round-Cut-Robe seized the spear and killed that
Snake chief; and all the Blackfoot warriors set up a great
shout. He swam across the river, pulling after him the body
of the dead chief by the hair. He dragged it ashore and
took the scalp. He stood with his foot on the head of the
Snake and sang his war song. After that Round-Cut-Robe
and the Blackfoot warriors started for home. They came to
the summit of a hill overlooking the camp. There they
waited until a messenger came out. And when the people
heard the news of their victory, they ran to tell the sweet-
52 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
heart of Round-Cut- Robe. She was out on the hills gather-
ing berries. They said to her:
"'Your lover is now a great chief. It was he who killed
the head-chief of the Snakes.'
"And, when the girl heard this, she was so excited she
spilled her berries.
"The returning warriors stood together on the hill and
sang a song of victory. Then they marched down, with
Round-Cut-Robe in the lead, holding up the scalp and spear
of the Snake chief. All the people came out from the camp;
and the girl, Spilt-Her-Berries, was before all the others.
It was she who met the new chief first and gave him a kiss.
She sang the song of victory:
"'My lover has killed the Snake chief and all his people
mourn for him.'
"Round-Cut-Robe gave the scalp and spear to his sweet-
heart, saying:
"'Give these to Red Horn, your husband, and say to him:
"My lover sends you these, even though he is a poor man.
Your other wives have rich lovers, but they have never done
anything for you like this."'
"Then they paraded round the camp, with Spilt-Her-
Berries carrying aloft the scalp and spear of the Snake chief.
She took them to the lodge of Red Horn and gave them to
him. Then every one was proud to know the girl, and they
gave her many presents of fine clothes.
"Red Horn invited the head men of the tribe to his lodge.
He gave a big feast and told Spilt-Her-Berries to bring her
lover; and after the feast he said:
"'Round-Cut-Robe is now a great chief. He is above all
of us. There was a time when I was ashamed to know him.
But now I am proud to have him at my feast. He gave me
this spear and scalp. In return I give him his sweetheart and
my tepee. As for myself, I will ,move into some other place.
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAVER BUNDLE 53
May this new husband of Spilt-Her-Berries have a long
life and good luck!'
"Round-Cut-Robe became head-chief of the tribe and
lived to be very old. He kept the Beaver Bundle in his lodge
as long as he lived. It was he who taught the Indians how to
give the beaver dance.
"That is the origin of the Beaver Bundle."
When I was leaving Mad Wolf's lodge to return to my
own camp, he said:
"You are now my son and have met my relatives and
friends; I want you to come for another ceremony. It is now
the moon when the leaves are turning yellow. Come again
to my lodge at the next full moon — the time the leaves are
falling. I will have White Calf, the head-chief here, and other
prominent men, who will help me open the Beaver Bundle.
We will select an Indian name for you, and will make you a
member of the Blackfoot tribe."
CHAPTER VIII
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME AND MADE A
MEMBER OF THE BLACKFOOT TRIBE
On the day of full moon, when the leaves were falling, time
appointed by Mad Wolf for the second ceremony and opening
of his Beaver Bundle, I rode across the prairie towards his
summer camp. It was fine autumn weather, without a cloud
in the sky. Eastward over the plains, through a bluish haze,
rose the Sweet Grass Hills, like distant islands in an ocean.
West stood the main range of the Rocky Mountains, extend-
ing into the north and disappearing into the far south, the
majestic snow-capped peaks of Rising Wolf and Going-
to-the-Sun looming sharp and clear against the deep blue
sky.
From the summit of a grassy ridge, I at last looked down
upon the camp of Mad Wolf. Smoke was rising from the
lodges and bore the fragrant odor of burning cottonwood.
Many horses dotted the hills, Indian boys riding to and fro
and racing their mounts across the broad meadows. Among
the rows of white tepees were groups of Indians in bright-
colored clothes. They were seated about their outside fires,
playing games and engaged in various occupations of camp
life.
I rode to the large decorated tepee of Mad Wolf, and was
greeted by my Indian sister, Strikes-on-both-Sides. She
wore a dress of fine deerskin with beaded stripes. Her leg-
gings and moccasins were decorated with colored porcupine
quills. She had white shell ear-rings, and necklaces of elk
teeth and deer bones. She shouted, "The Light-Haired-One
has come back"; then saying to me, "I am glad that you
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 55
are still smiling," she took my hand and led me inside the
lodge to Mad-Wolf and her mother, Gives-to-the-Sun.
On the day appointed for the Beaver Ceremony, the chief's
family rose before sunrise to cook food for the feast and pre-
pare for many visitors. They made ready a kettle of service-
berry soup and tongues; also dried meat mixed with wild
cherries, and dried bear-berry leaves for smoking. I helped in
the feast with a supply of raisins and fresh meat, dried berries,
and a roll of strong Hudson Bay tobacco, which they liked
to smoke mixed with bear-berry leaves. I also gave a blanket
with colored stripes. It was looked upon as my offering to
the Beaver Bundle; so during the ceremony it lay under the
Bundle.
When the sun was high over the eastern horizon, the guests
began to arrive. The head men of the tribe came with their
families: White Calf, the head-chief; White Grass, a judge
and medicine man; Heavy Breast, Middle Calf, Medicine
Wolf, Elk Chief, Bear Child; Ear-Rings, a doctor and medi-
cine man; and Double Runner. The tepee was filled to the
door with eleven men, seventeen women and ten children.
Mad Wolf as director of the ceremony, sat at the back and
in the center. The men were on his left, the women and
children on his right. The beaver men had seats in the front
row. Beside Mad Wolf was White Calf, the head-chief, then
White Grass, the medicine man, who helped him in conduct-
ing the ceremony. I was next to Maka, an Indian of unusual
appearance. He was short and stout with a large head
which was crowned with a heavy mass of hair.
While they were waiting for the ceremony to begin, Mad
Wolf said to White Calf, so that all in the lodge could hear:
"Because you are my friend, I ask you to make the choice
of a name for my white son." After that, the venerable chief
sat in silence for a while, his head bowed and eyes closed,
trying to think of a suitable name.
56 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
In the meantime, Middle Calf mixed the tobacco and
filled the pipes; he had charge of the smoking outfit, while
Bear Child looked after the incense of sweet grass.
The ceremony began by Bear Child taking a forked stick
and selecting a live coal from the fire. He laid it on the
ground in front of Mad Wolf, who placed upon it dried sweet
grass. And the rising smoke soon filled the tepee with in-
cense. Mad Wolf held up his right hand to command atten-
tion; then swaying his body to and fro, he chanted:
"I am the Morning Star, child of Sun and Moon,
My power is very strong."
He held both hands in the smoke, and, placing them upon
the sacred bundle, sang a chant to the Sun. Then he raised his
hands from the bundle and laid them upon his breast — the
sign that Sun Power was thus communicated.
The Beaver Bundle lay at the back of the tepee, between
Mad Wolf and his wife. It had a wrapper of elkskin painted
red; and the tie strings were also of elkskin. To the outside
were attached sacred implements — a long pipe, digging
stick, and a set of smudge sticks.
During the ceremony of opening the bundle, the outside
articles were removed first. And for this the four principals,
Mad Wolf, White Calf and their wives, Gives-to-the-Sun and
Catches-Two-Horses, chanted in unison, while the two
women untied the strings and loosened the smudge sticks.
The four together placed their hands upon the sacred
sticks and held them in the sweet smoke. Then, each held
a stick in imitation of beavers carrying branches of trees.
They extended their arms together, with hands raised and
parallel — the Indian sign for beaver den — and prayed in
unison to the spirit of the beaver:
"Pity us! Give us your wisdom and cunning.
May we live to be old.
May we always have plenty of food."
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 57
Buffalo hides were next unrolled and spread upon the
ground in front of the beaver men during the chant:
"The buffalo bull stays in the mountains.
He comes down to the plains.
The mountains are his medicine."
In this chant the four principals held their hands with two
index fingers curved towards each other, the other fingers
being closed, in imitation of buffalo horns — the Indian
sign for buffalo.
The two women raised the Beaver Bundle, while the men
sang the chant:
"The buffalo bull came down from the mountains.
He lies upon the ground."
They moved the sacred bundle slowly and reverently and
placed it on a buffalo robe, beside the burning sweet grass.
Mad Wolf took some rattles from a woven Nez Perce bag and
distributed them among the beaver men. He handed two of
them to me and said: "You are now my son and should join
with me in this ceremony."
These rattles, which were made of buffalo hide and con-
tained small pebbles, were used by the beaver men to beat
time on the buffalo hides during the chants and dances, in
imitation of beavers striking the water with their flat tails.
Then, with the beaver men, I joined in the Raven Song:
"We fly high in the air.
Our power is very strong.
The wind is our medicine."
We cawed four times in imitation of ravens, and held
our rattles vertically on the hides. After another raven song,
we beat with our rattles, shook them in the air, and ended
with four caws. I watched closely Mad Wolf's movements,
and imitated his motions with the rattles, giving forward
sweeps to the beats, as he did. This did not escape his keen
eyes, for he said to me so that all could hear: "I like the
way you swing your rattles. I am proud of my white son."
58 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
For the Antelope Song, the beaver men chanted in unison,
holding their hands closed, one above the other, changing
their positions by quick, sharp movements, in imitation of
the quick and dainty rise and fall of the antelope's feet in
walking.
We joined with Mad Wolf in the Elk Song and beat time
with our rattles. The two women, leaning towards the Beaver
Bundle, simulated dancing on their knees, and at the same
time imitated elk rubbing the velvet from their horns. Mad
Wolf untied the strings of elkskin, releasing the pipe from
the bundle, and sang:
"Our Father, the Sun!
It is time you were rising.
I want to dance with you."
Then he arose and danced with the pipe; while the beaver
men beat with their rattles and all the people joined in the
song. Mad Wolf blew on his medicine whistle and circled the
fire in the direction the sun moves through the heavens.
He gave the cry of the beaver and imitated the actions of a
swimming beaver.
White Grass, the medicine man, danced after Mad Wolf;
and passed the pipe in turn to the head-chief, who danced
and returned it to Mad Wolf. My Indian father held the
pipe in the sweet-grass smoke, and, bowing his head, prayed
to the Sun in behalf of those who were ill.
Thus the Beaver Bundle, with its ritual of songs, dances,
and prayers, was a medium through which Sun Power was
transmitted to man, especially in the healing of the sick. It
contained not only the skins of the beaver, but also many
sacred relics, principally of birds and wild animals, all of
which contributed their Sun Power to the bundle.
The time had now come for opening the bundle and tak-
ing out its contents. Gives-to-the-Sun and Catches-Two-
Horses were distinguished from the other women by clothes
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 59
decorated with red paint. They had both been sacred
women in the Sun Dance, and were held in high honor by
the tribe. The beaver men beat with their rattles and sang
to the buffalo bull with the words:
"The head-chief of the buffalo is looking for something
to hook."
The two women knelt beside the bundle and imitated the
Bull hooking with his horns. Mad Wolf chanted the "Hurry "
Song; and the women removed the elkskin cover. The inner
bundle was wrapped in a rare and beautiful buffalo skin with
the color of a beaver. Then Mad Wolf began a solemn chant,
while the women opened this sacred buffalo robe, and re-
vealed the skins and relics of many birds and animals of
prairies and mountains. He took a beaver skin from the
bundle and sang:
" I go from my lodge.
I see an enemy.
I dive under the water and am safe."
He moved the skin in imitation of a beaver swimming;
suddenly it dove under the water to escape an enemy. At the
same time the two women knelt beside the bundle and pan-
tomimed with their hands the movements of beavers swim-
ming and working on their dams. They danced on their knees,
gracefully swaying their bodies to the rhythm of the drum-
ming, while the rest of us sang a Beaver Song and beat time
on the buffalo hides.
Then each of the women took the beaver-skin in turn and
with bowed head held it reverently to her breast and prayed
to the spirit of the Beaver:
"I take you, my child, that my relatives and children may
be free from sickness."
Two more women knelt in front of the bundle. Then
these four women together imitated beavers, moving their
bodies in time with the chanting and drumming. They cov-
60 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
ered their heads to represent beavers hidden in their den
under the water. Then the imaginary beavers rose to the
surface of the water and swam around while working on their
dams. Mad Wolf brought forth a bag of beaver-gnawed-
sticks and handed them to the women. They held these sticks
in their mouths, like beavers holding branches. They made
swimming motions with their hands, and imitated beavers
diving under the water, then coming to the surface and swim-
ming in the stream. They went out upon an imaginary
bank; and sat upright as if to cut down trees, brushing their
faces with their hands as beavers do with their paws; looking
carefully around, always alert for danger.
The four women danced together round the tepee, with
hands crossed on their breasts. They kept turning and sway-
ing their bodies in time with the chanting and drumming
of the beaver men. Mad Wolf handed a beaver-skin to his
wife who was at the head of the line. The singing and drum-
ming of the beaver men now became louder, while the women
circled the fire and gave the call of the beaver. Gives-to-the-
Sun in the lead held the beaver-skin under her robe and
moved it as though it were swimming round her waist and
then round her neck. After she had danced once round the
tepee, she handed the skin to the woman next in line, with
the prayer:
"I do not give you away, my child (beaver), because I
am tired of you, but because the child of this woman is ill.
May it be restored to health!"
Catches-Two-Horses who received the skin prayed: "I
take you, my child (beaver), that my husband and children
may be from sickness; may they live to be old!"
She danced once round the tepee, with the skin across
her shoulders. Each of the other women took the skin in
turn, and then it was returned to the bundle.
The women held up two winter-skins of weasels. The
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 61
weasel, that great hunter, was included in the bundle, be-
cause of its power as a provider of food to its family. Mad
Wolf began the Weasel Song; the beaver men beat with their
rattles and joined in the song. White Calf, the venerable
head-chief, rose and took one of the skins. He held it to his
breast with a prayer, and then danced round the tepee. He
blew on his medicine whistle to represent the cry of the
weasel, and imitated its actions hunting for food. Finally he
stopped in front of me and held up the snow-white skin, so
that all could see. There was silence as he looked straight
at me, and said earnestly:
"This is the white weasel, one of the sacred animals of
our Beaver Bundle. We name you 'A-pe-ech-e-ken' (White-
Weasel-Moccasin), because your color is light and your eyes
are blue. We pray this name may bring you long life and
good luck."
Mad Wolf approved of this name, and moved to one side,
so that White Grass, the medicine man, might take the
leader's seat. The face of White Grass was painted red. In
the center of his forehead was a black mark to represent the
thunder bolt, from which extended yellow zigzag lines for
lightning. He prayed:
"Father, the Sun, bless us all, men, women, and children.
Sacred Beaver Bundle, help us to lead straight lives.
Sacred Pipe, bless us, the rivers, mountains, prairies, birds, and animals.
— Mother Earth, give us food until we die."
Then White Grass sang the Paint Song, after which he took
some red earth from the bundle and prepared it with his
hands, swaying his body to and fro in time with the chant.
First he painted the faces of Mad Wolf and White Calf; and
in like manner the beaver men, Heavy Breast, Middle Calf,
and Ear-Rings. I was seated next to Ear-Rings; and when
my turn came to be painted, Mad Wolf exclaimed: "Here
comes my white son."
62 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
White Grass signed that he was ready. I went forward and
knelt before him, while he placed the red earth on my fore-
head, chin, and hands, because these are the places the
beaver rubs himself with his paws. Mad Wolf started the
Beaver Song, and all joined in, accompanied by the beating
of rattles on the ground.
After the song, White Grass said to me very earnestly:
"This tepee is sacred. And this Beaver Ceremony, in which
we have painted you and made you a member of our tribe, is
also sacred. We pray that you may never be ill."
Then Bear Child took a hot coal from the fire and laid it
in front of White Calf. The head-chief placed sweet grass
upon it; and holding his hands in the rising smoke, prayed:
"Father, the Sun, who gives us light,
Be good to this young man.
We have taken him into our tribe.
Keep him day and night from harm.
May he live long.
To return many summers to his Indian brothers and sisters."
Then Mad Wolf again took the leader's seat beside the
bundle to continue the ceremony. It required a fine memory
to conduct the Beaver Ceremony, with its great number of
songs, prayers, and dances. Nobody knew how many there
were; it was bad luck to count them; but there must have
been between three and four hundred songs.
Every detail of the ceremony had to be performed accu-
rately. It was believed misfortune would result if mistakes
were made. Yet a mistake happened that very day in the
dance of the lynx.
Mad Wolf took from the bundle the tail of a lynx, while the
beaver men chanted and beat with rattles. Gives-to-the-Sun
held up a stick painted red to represent a tree. Catches-Two-
Horses took the tail and imitated the actions of a lynx hunt-
ing squirrels.
First, it walked round and then sat down and looked into
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 63
the tree. Several times it ran towards the tree after a
squirrel, but each time came back and sat down. Finally it
made a quick dash for the tree. Catches-Two-Horses then
made the mistake of making the lynx go quickly up one
side and down the other. Mad Wolf stopped the ceremony.
Every one waited in silence. The beaver men began again
their rhythmic drumming, while Mad Wolf took the tail. He
represented the lynx running to the tree, just as the woman
had done. But Mad Wolf made it climb more slowly; and
held it for a short time on top, where it danced in time with
the drumming. He then brought it slowly down the other
side, clambering little by little like a cat, stopping frequently
to look around, until it finally reached the ground.
Mad Wolf brought forth a pair of badger skins. He took
them out backwards, the way badgers come from their
dens. He imitated the timid actions of badgers, moving the
skins this way and that, like badgers trying to escape. He
turned them as though they were going to attack, but be-
came frightened and fled back into their den.
During the song of the white swan, Mad Wolf made a
mistake and stopped the ceremony. With bowed head and
closed eyes, he strove to recall the song, while the entire
company waited silently. Suddenly Mad W 7 olf raised his
head. He looked straight at me and said: "There is White
Weasel, my son. He had better continue the ceremony in
my place." The Indians laughed and enjoyed the joke. The
tension was thus relieved and Mad Wolf continued the song.
Then Mad Wolf took from the Beaver Bundle the head of
a mallard duck. Elk Chief stood up and, drawing his blanket
round him, circled the fire, imitating the movements of a
duck. Across the tepee Soft Woman rose. Both danced
gracefully towards each other until they met and together
they circled the fire, representing in their dance a pair of
ducks. Soft Woman held up her right hand and swayed her
64 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
body from side to side, while Elk Chief spread out both arms,
with hands extended, in imitation of a flying duck.
A woman entered the tepee. One of her children was dead,
and she was in mourning. Her disheveled hair hid her face,
and she had her blanket drawn closely about her. She was
pale and emaciated from fasting, and her arms were bleeding
from self-inflicted wounds — a sad and forlorn- looking crea-
ture. She stood silently before the assembled people, until
Mad Wolf took pity on her. With some sage he performed
the rite of purification and prayed that she might have a new
and happy life. Then she withdrew as silently as she came.
Mad Wolf brought forth a prairie chicken and some of
its tail feathers. He handed them to the two women who
knelt facing each other. Then they arose and danced, pray-
ing to the prairie chicken. Gives-to-the-Sun held the skin
and Catches-Two-Horses the feathers. This was a woman's
dance. Gives-to-the-Sun knelt before another woman and
Catches-Two-Horses did likewise. They knelt thus in pairs
with heads close to the ground, and imitated the habits
of prairie chickens. They made a clucking sound. They
stretched out their blankets with their arms and shook them
in imitation of wings. Their song was lively and the crowd
enjoyed it. The beaver men drummed with enthusiasm and
energy, singing and shaking their rattles in the air to imi-
tate the sound of prairie chickens flying.
Mad Wolf again arose. He moved around the fire in a
bear dance. He held his arms in front with hands hanging
down, as a bear does its paws. He placed his feet together and
moved backwards and forwards, with short jumps, imitating
the deliberate and heavy tread of a walking bear, moving his
face this way and that, as if looking about. He puffed and
grunted and acted like a bear, digging in the ground, and turn-
ing over stones for insects. The two women, Gives-to-the-Sun
and Catches-Two-Horses, arose and joined Mad Wolf in this
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 65
dance. They held their hands with forefingers crooked on
their heads for ears, and then in front, with hands down, as
bears do their paws when standing on their hind legs. In this
manner the women followed Mad Wolf round the tepee, and
then danced up to their "potential husbands." They seized
them roughly and forced them to dance, amid laughter and
shouts of the spectators.
The lively air and quick rhythm of the Dog Dance made
it one of the most popular of all the beaver dances. The
beaver men sang their loudest and drummed so vigorously
that many people rose to dance. They entered into it with
spirit and dash, laughing merrily and joking with each other;
while the spectators urged them on by barks and howls in
imitation of dogs. Middle Calf's wife sat with her small
daughter by her side. The little girl was excited by the sing-
ing and beating of rattles. She too wanted to dance. She
was pretty, with bright eyes, and had jet-black hair falling
over her shoulders. She wore a miniature squaw dress of
red, fringed with elk teeth and decorated with colored beads.
When the dance was at its height, her mother suddenly
pushed her into the circle. At first the little girl was fright-
ened, but quickly forgot herself and began to dance. She
swayed her lithe body to and fro, in imitation of the other
women, and hit the ground with her small moccasined feet
in perfect time with the rhythmic beating of the rattles.
The beaver men gradually quickened their pace; the steps
of the dancers grew faster and faster until, wearied, they
gave a series of dog howls and returned to their seats.
I saw two white-haired old women outside the tepee hav-
ing a dance of their own. They were in mourning and de-
barred from the ceremony; but they could not resist the spell
of the Dog Dance. They were surrounded by a group of
children and young people, who urged them on with barks
and howls.
66 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
For the Buffalo Dance, Mad Wolf took a string of buffalo
hoofs from the bundle and handed them to his wife. She and
Catches-Two-Horses arose to dance, wearing headdresses
with buffalo horns. The Indians took great interest in this
dance, because it represented the mating of buffalo, by
women who chose their men. The two women knelt beside
the Beaver Bundle with heads lowered. They represented
buffalo cows. First they made motions of hooking the
ground and digging wallows; then they stood up and pawed
the ground and bellowed. They simulated buffalo throwing
dirt and catching it on their backs, shaking themselves and
throwing dust into the air. Then they danced with the
string of hoofs, imitating the capers of mating buffaloes.
Gives-to-the-Sun went round the tepee until she came to
White Calf, and threw the string of hoofs near him. He arose
and joined her in the dance, following her round the fire, like
a bull after a cow. Amid shouts of laughter, he threw the
hoofs to Strikes-on-Both-Sides, daughter of Mad Wolf. She
danced gracefully round the tepee and threw the string of
hoofs to me. She danced in front of me with quick steps, sway-
ing her body in time with the singing and the beating of rat-
tles. I heard much shouting and laughter and cheering. Some
of the Indians called my name. They said: "White Weasel,
you are a chief now; you must join her in the dance."
So I took the hoofs and followed my Indian sister round
the fire. I danced like the others, swaying my body, holding
my feet together, twisting and turning and bending my knees.
There were shrill cries from both men and women. They
shouted: "Good boy! White Weasel, you are a chief now."
We stopped at intervals to bellow and imitate buffalo move-
ments, digging wallows, kicking, pawing the ground, and
throwing dust into the air. When my Indian sister stopped
dancing, I completed the circle and threw the hoofs to the
wife of Bear Child.
I AM GIVEN AN INDIAN NAME 67
By this time the sun had set and the Indians prepared to
go home. Horses were brought in, and the dancers changed
their decorated clothes and moccasins for those of every-
day use. Before they left, all joined in a feast of service-berry
stew. The men were served first, but few of them ate their
full portion. They called out the names of women and gave
the remainder to them. I sent mine to the wife of Morning
Plume, who had many children to feed. My friend Rattler,
a kind-hearted old doctor, gave his share to his wife, before
he partook of any food himself. Then he drew her aside from
the crowd, and laying both hands upon her, he gave her his
power to heal, because she was going to doctor a sick child.
The Beaver Ceremony ended with the close of day; and
the Indians separated to their lodges. Peace and quiet set-
tled over the camp, broken only by the cries of distant prai-
rie wolves, and the answering barks of Indian dogs.
CHAPTER IX
HOME OF MAD WOLF
Mad Wolf, my Indian father, lived in the valley of Cut-
bank River. But in good summer weather it was his custom
to take his herds of cattle and horses and camp about on the
prairie. I remember well the summer camp, where he opened
his Beaver Bundle and made me a member of the tribe. Our
tepees were in a broad meadow of wild timothy and long
bunch grass, bounded by a broken line of rounded hills. On
this fine range fed his herds of cattle and horses, the
grassy undulating hillsides glorious under a bright October
sun.
The wife of the chief and his daughter, Strikes-on-Both-
Sides, pitched my traveling-tepee between their own two
lodges. It was small and easy to handle; decorated with
picture records of war and hunting, also the Moon and Morn-
ing Star, and the constellations of the Pleiades and Great
Bear.
Little Creek, son-in-law of Mad Wolf, and his wife Strikes-
on-Both-Sides, lived close by in a lodge without decorations.
But the chief had the Snow Tepee; it was believed to have
power over storms and cold weather. It had a yellow top,
the color of the sky at sunrise. On the north side was a clus-
ter of seven stars for the Great Bear — the direction winter
blizzards come from; at the back a red disc for the Sun; under
the top four claws for the Thunder Bird; and at the bottom
a yellow band for the earth, with green discs to represent the
ice color.
Mad Wolf's women arranged everything for me — an
inside lining to keep out wind and rain and help the updraft
HOME OF MAD WOLF 69
of the fire; provisions and cooking utensils were to the left of
the door, with saddles and harness opposite. At the head of
my couch was a back-rest made of willow sticks tied together
with sinew, and supported by a tripod decorated with carved
work; in the center, just under the smoke-hole, was a circle
of round stones for my fireplace, and to keep the flames from
spreading in the dry prairie grass. They roped down my
tepee to a stake driven into the ground on the west side, to
prevent it being overturned in a heavy wind. They showed
me how to close the smoke-hole in a storm, and to keep the
lodge from smoking by shifting the "ears" at the top with
the changing wind. They brought me a bucket of fresh water
from the spring; and for starting my fire, a bundle of resin-
ous pine sticks and a supply of dry Cottonwood branches.
After my adoption, the women of Mad Wolf's family were
hospitable and kind and treated me as a relative. Strikes-
on-Both-Sides, my Indian sister, came with her mother to
my lodge and examined all my belongings. They emptied the
bags containing my most personal possessions; but every-
thing was carefully replaced. The old woman did not like the
looks of my deerskin moccasins and changed them to suit her
idea of the tribal style. She told me to use red earth on my
face, the way Indians did; it would help my looks and protect
my skin from sun and wind.
The women were hard workers — always busy, cooking,
tanning skins, making lodge coverings, their own clothing
and most of the men's, providing firewood, gathering berries
and wild vegetables and herbs and plants for both eating and
healing. Near Mad Wolf's lodge, they had some cowhides
pegged to the ground hair-side down. On them were painted
designs for cases, berry bags, and toy parfleches for the chil-
dren, in red, yellow and blue, with the ring-bone pattern,
also mountains, hills, arrow-points and buffalo trails.
Women considered it a disgrace for men to do any of their
70 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
work — put up lodges, tan skins, cook food at home or look
after the provisions; all this was woman's work in which they
were trained from childhood and they resented any inter-
ference from the men.
The men gave most of their time to care of horses and
cattle, hunting, dancing, and religious ceremonies. Mad
Wolf himself was away from camp most of the time, busy
with public meetings throughout the tribe and with the cere-
monies of his Beaver Bundle and Medicine Pipe.
Little Creek, the son-in-law of Mad Wolf, was of middle
age, easy-going and good-natured, skilled in the handling of
horses and cattle. He and his father-in-law were on the best
of terms; but, in accordance with tribal etiquette, he never
had any dealings with his mother-in-law. He always avoided
speaking to her and they were never together in the same
place. He explained that it was a custom handed down from
their ancestors — a woman felt ashamed and humiliated to
meet her son-in-law; she had to visit her daughter when he
was away from home.
Often friends of Mad Wolf and their wives came to his
tepee to spend an evening by the lodge-fire: White Calf, the
head-chief; Ear-Rings, the doctor; White Grass, the medi-
cine man; Middle Calf, Double Runner, and Morning Plume.
The men sat on the north side of the fire; and according to
custom, the women across from them, with Mad Wolf in
the center and at the back, as owner of the lodge. The men
had a large redstone pipe which they passed to and fro; the
women a smaller pipe which they too smoked in turn. Vis-
itors entered without ceremony, the men taking places on the
right of the door, the women opposite and on the south side
of the tepee.
In Mad Wolf's Snow Lodge many rules had to be observed;
he was also the guardian of the sacred Beaver Bundle and
owner of a Medicine Pipe. But his visitors were always well
WOMAN UNDER A SUN-SHELTER
Showing bead and quill work, and meat drying on poles
WOMAN REPAIRING A TEPEE-COVER
HOME OF MAD WOLF 71
informed and careful not to offend. They knew the bundles
that Mad Wolf owned and their observances.
The Beaver Bundle forbade any one passing in front of
Mad Wolf; no one should hang up their moccasins, or raise
the sides of the tepee; dogs were not allowed to enter and the
fire must never die out. Even the children knew that the
word "bear" must not be spoken in the presence of the
Medicine Pipe. If some one had to speak about a bear, it
was referred to indirectly as "that-big-hairy-one," or "the-
one-who-prowls-at-night"; to say the word "bear" would be
sure to bring sickness and misfortune. No one should talk
loud and people should enter without speaking; the occu-
pants of the Snow Tepee could not reply to any one on the
outside.
It was always rude to ask a man his name before a com-
pany of people; this reflected on his good standing and made
him feel ashamed. If any one wore an odd-looking object,
it might attract attention, but no one ever asked about it;
it might be a charm; and it was a breach of etiquette to ask
a leading question about one's personal medicine or experi-
ences; the owner might talk about it, but the initiative must
come from him.
Around the lodge-fire at night, Mad Wolf's friends liked
to gossip, tell stories, and have fun; they were light-hearted
and happy. I did not hear any of them dispute, find fault,
or curse. They never talked loud and when one was speaking
the others listened. They liked to exaggerate and to boast.
But they always listened in silence to a speaker and did not
interrupt.
One evening I asked Mad Wolf to tell about the days of
long ago — how the Indians lived when buffalo were plenti-
ful — before the white men came to occupy their country.
He said:
"Oh! What happy times we had before we ever saw white
72 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
men! Then were many buffalo and we wandered where we
pleased. In those days, we wintered far away from the moun-
tains; we stayed in the 'Lower Country' — far down the
Marias River until late in the spring, waiting for our horses
to shed their winter hair and to get fat on the new grass.
"When the weather got warm and it came time to move,
our chiefs shouted through the camp:
"'Make ready to pull up your lodge-pins; we are going to
move towards the mountains.'
."And in the early morning, before sun-up, they called
again :
"'This is the day; pack up your things and take down
your lodges; we shall start before the sun is high.'
"We stopped to hunt buffalo near the Sweet Grass Hills.
Before sunrise our chiefs rode through the camp and shouted:
"'The buffalo are close; a big herd is coming towards
camp; get ready your long-winded horses and the hard-
runners; soon we shall hunt.'
"Then we chased the buffalo until their carcasses were
scattered all over. We rubbed our knives and cut open their
backs; we skinned them from the back down, throwing out
their kidneys and the yellow back-fat, splitting the tongues
into strips and drying them for future use. The women
cooked the back-fat and suet and boiled marrow from the
bones, cutting the meat into slices and hanging it on scaffolds
to cure in sun and wind. We had many feasts and ate the
choice pieces; the old people and children were invited; all
were happy and had plenty to eat.
"The strong women quickly got the hair off their buffalo
hides and made them into parfleches, sacks, and clothes;
some of the hides they tanned for lodges, oiling the skins
with brains and liver mixed; they used the hides of the bulls
for Indian trunks and made strings from the sinews and
ropes from the long hair.
HOME OF MAD WOLF 73
"After we had stayed for a while near the Sweet Grass
Hills, our chiefs again shouted through the camp:
"'Come on! It is time to move. We shall go to pick
berries. A young man who traveled far found that berries
are ripe — service berries and raspberries.'
"We went nearer the mountains and camped on Milk
River. In the morning the women and children went out on
the hills and came back with berry bags filled; the bushes
were so heavy with ripe berries, the sides of our horses were
all red.
"Then we moved to Cutbank River to gather chokecher-
ries, which the women dried and mashed with seeds; they
mixed them with pemmican and put them away in calf-sacks
for winter use. Near Cutbank were many buffalo and fat
antelope and prairie dogs with sweet livers.
"In the fall we moved up to the mountains and chased
elk. We made our camp in a big circle near the forest at the
head of Cutbank River. Our women cut new lodge-poles, for
the trees there grew tall and straight. They also gathered
many roots and plants for eating and healing — gray leaves
for stomach trouble, black-root for coughs, sage for heart-
burn, sticky-weed for the liver, and blueberry for bleeding
at the mouth.
"After the first big snowstorm, we hurried to move away
from the mountains, back to the Lower Country. We camped
along the Marias River and hunted for a good place to spend
the winter — with buffalo near and plenty of firewood and
grass for our horses.
"Oh! Those were happy days from the food we all had
and the clothes and warm buffalo robes. At the beginning
of winter we ate the big heifers four years old and the heifers
two years old; we liked them the best. Then, a woman who
had ready her winter robes for husband and children had
nothing more to worry about. To lie in a buffalo robe was so
74 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
warm, it was like sleeping beside a fire. And now the dogs
are all scattered, having had their evening meal," — an
Indian expression for — my story-telling is ended.
In our prairie camp, my lodge stood a short distance from
Mad Wolf's, but so close to Little Creek and his wife I could
hear what they said. They were fond of each other and did
not bicker or quarrel. Like most Indian parents, they in-
dulged their children and rarely punished them. Sometimes
they warned them to be quiet; but, as a rule, the children
ran wild and acted as they pleased. For games they had
follow-the-leader, hide-and-seek, stilts, and jumping rope.
Boys had shooting contests with bow and arrow, spinning
tops, hunting small game and horse racing. They were
trained to hunt and fight and the care of horses and cattle;
to have self-control and be firm and brave. Girls had hobby-
horses and play-tepees with dolls; and little camps with
miniature robes and blankets and cooking utensils. They were
trained by their mothers in the dressing of skins, making
of clothes, care of the lodge, and preparation of food; to be
helpful and kind and virtuous; and to believe that a woman
who was false to her marriage vow was a disgrace to all her
relatives.
Small Otter, a boy of six and a grandson of Mad Wolf,
was the favorite of our camp. He had a sunny nature, round
face, bright eyes, and hair hanging in little braids over his
shoulders. He liked to play at warfare with bow and arrow,
and hunted for wild birds, rabbits, and ground squirrels.
But his favorite sport was to ride bareback his grand-
mother's old saddle horse. She and Small Otter were insep-
arable companions. I often saw them together on the prairie,
he holding her tightly by the hand, skipping and jumping
and pulling her about, until weary she sank to the ground
and watched him proudly, her face in her palms, while he
hunted squirrels with bow and arrow. n
HOME OF MAD WOLF 75
One night I helped Little Creek when he was suffering
from pain. He wakened me by his groans. With my medicine
case I went to his lodge and gave him a remedy. In the
morning he had recovered; thus I gained a reputation as a
doctor.
I cut a barbed fish-hook from the hand of their daughter
Anatapsa, a girl of fourteen. She came to camp with the
hook imbedded so deeply they could not get it out. The
women wailed and moaned at the sight of my knife. I dressed
the wound with an antiseptic. It healed quickly and she had
no pain. She showed her gratitude by giving me a piece of
sweet-scented wood and a necklace of blue shells with little
animals carved from stone. Then her mother, Strikes-on-
Both-Sides, brought a medicine bag with painted designs
and long fringe hanging down. She called it the "Iniskim"
(Buffalo Rock Bundle). It was sacred and contained pieces of
flint which resembled miniature buffalo. She told me the
following story of its origin:
"Many years ago, when a band of Indians were starving,
a woman who went alone from camp heard a strange singing.
It came from these stones. She took the stones back to camp
and taught the song to the head men. Then they sang the
song together and gave a ceremony. The buffalo came back
and the people had plenty to eat. That was the beginning of
the Buffalo Rock Bundle. With it the Indians were able to
call the buffalo."
Then Strikes-on-Both-Sides sang the old song and gave
me directions for the care of my new medicine bundle. By
day it must hang from a tripod behind my lodge. At sunset
I should bring it inside and burn sweet grass as incense.
One day a strange Indian came to our camp. As soon as
he entered Little Creek's lodge, I heard angry words from
my Indian sister. She upbraided the visitor. She said he had
a forked tongue; what he had said was not true; he spread
76 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
the report that Little Creek was so ill that some of his rela-
tives came in haste; they thought he was dying. It is offen-
sive to an Indian woman to have a report spread about that
anything is the matter with her man. She feels ashamed and
humiliated, as though she had neglected him.
Near the end of our stay on the prairie, a storm came from
the northwest, a sullen cloud mass with forked lightning
and a whirling wind that smote Mad Wolf's tepee and
twisted it out of shape. My lodge shook as though it were
going over. Then the wind suddenly leaped into the south
and the storm quickly ended. The women carried Mad
Wolf's Medicine Bundles to a place of safety in Little Creek's
lodge; and as soon as they had repaired the damage, they
carried the bundles back.
Then Mad Wolf moved our camp from the open plains
to his winter home in the sheltered valley of Cutbank River.
The old chief led the way, riding at the head of our line, tall,
erect, and stately, across the broad table-land. Little Creek
and I were behind, driving the horses and cattle, riding back-
wards and forwards, rounding up and heading off, until we
drove them back to his ranch in the valley.
There Mad Wolf had a cabin built of logs for shelter
from winter storms and blizzards, also corrals and low-lying
sheds for cattle and horses. But in good weather he and his
family preferred living in tepees.
On both sides of the valley were cutbanks, which led to
grass-covered plateaus overlooked by high hills — fine range
for both cattle and horses. West were the snowy summits of
the Rocky Mountains; east and south the Great Plains; and
north a massive ridge grass-covered and bare of trees — the
Hudson Bay Divide which formed an unbroken line of high
hills against the horizon.
Strikes-on-Both-Sides pitched my tepee in the valley
across a meadow from Mad Wolf's camp, near a large rock
HOME OF MAD WOLF 77
in a bend in the river where the dark water slowly eddied
round and round in a deep pool. She was the favorite child
of the old chief; always cheerful and kind and skilled in the
arts of Indian women. She was so watchful and alert that no
bird or animal near camp ever escaped her keen eyes. She
brought me a present of brook trout just caught from the
river, also some pulp from the heart of a Cottonwood tree,
a delicacy with a flavor like maple sap. She and her mother
made braids of sweet grass for perfume to put with my clothes,
and little buckskin bags of fragrant balsam and meadow-rue
berries.
My Indian sister made fun of the rough sticks I used for
lodge-pins; she was ashamed to have visitors see them. She
said they might spread a report that the Mad Wolf family
did not look after their white son. So she made me a set
of twenty lodge-pins of conventional style — chokecherry
wood with the bark peeled off and painted red, leaving two
narrow rings of bark at the top, also a set of small pins for
fastening together the front of my tepee.
In the afternoon, friends often came to go with Mad Wolf
into the sweat lodge — White Calf, the head-chief; Horn, an
old hunter and trapper; White Grass, and Heavy Breast.
The structure they used for their sweat was on the bank of
the river. It was made of willow branches twined into an
oval frame and covered with robes and blankets. Inside was
a hole in the ground for hot stones. Four men entered at a
time. They spouted water on the stones and kept wetting
their hair. Because of the steam rising from the stones, the
bathers kept their heads close to the ground and chanted and
prayed to the Sun, Moon and Morning Star. After an hour,
with four intervals for fresh air, they came out, and with
shouts plunged into the cold river for a reaction.
The sweat-bath was used mostly by older men — never
by women. Men who were ill went in to pray for healing
78 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
power. It was used in ceremonies of all kinds, also to se-
cure dreams and for pleasure. It was taken by men moved
to anger, or depressed by the death of a near friend or rel-
ative.
In our valley camp, my days began and ended with the
sun. When its first rays shone through the open door of my
tepee, I took a plunge in the cold river; then lighted my fire
and cooked breakfast. I watched the sunsets from a high
ridge overlooking the prairie to the foot of the mountains.
Near by were the graves of two young lovers. Water Bird,
daughter of a prominent chief, loved Night Rider, a youth
of her own age. But her parents made her marry an older
man. The young lover killed the husband and fled with his
sweetheart to the mountains. When the Indian police were
about to capture them, Night Rider killed his sweetheart
and then himself.
Our first night on the river, I stood beside these lonely
graves and saw the sun go down in a sky of flaming red, and
the evening star over the mountains. I heard the rhythmical
beating of Indian drums from a camp in the valley, with the
voices of men and women chanting in unison; and a young
brave singing a love song to his sweetheart.
Then I returned to the tepee and lay on my comfortable
couch of robes and blankets beside a small wood fire, watch-
ing the flickering flames and shadows dance on my tepee
walls; listening to the last calls of the birds, the chirping of
crickets, the rushing of the river, eddying and swirling in
deep pools. There was something very cheerful and soothing
in the rippling and surging of that mountain river.
Then my mind went back to a great modern city with its
unrest and stress, its crowds of busy and hurrying people,
leading indoor, artificial lives. I thought how good it was
to be in the camp of my Indian father on the prairie; I
loved the freedom and wildness, the quiet and peace. In me
SCAFFOLD BURIAL
A GRAVE OX A HILLTOP
HOME OF MAD WOLF 79
was the instinct to live in the open, where the wind blows
free and there is plenty of clear sunshine. My spirit was at
home with this simple and primitive people. I felt as though
I were one of them, as if I had known them ages ago; their
thoughts and customs seemed in no way strange.
CHAPTER X
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS
Big Plume, a Blood Indian from the north, who had been
visiting with his family at Heart Butte, stopped at Mad
Wolf's camp on his way back to Canada. The morning after
they arrived, I met Bluebird, a daughter of the northern
chief; she was a comely girl of sixteen, active and strong,
filled with energy and animal life. I saw her climb nimbly
into a cottonwood tree after a woodpecker's nest and bring
down the young birds one by one to her waiting brothers and
sisters. That same evening our camp was alive with excite-
ment. Bluebird went with some women and children to
gather berries on the hills and did not return. No one knew
what had become of her.
After several days, with no news of the missing girl, a band
of Indians came from Heart Butte forty miles away, with the
news that a son of Mountain Chief had also disappeared.
He and Bluebird were lovers. They ran away together to the
mountains.
Then Big Plume, her father, a silent and unassuming man,
came to my lodge for advice. He had known that young
Mountain Chief was in love with his daughter; he did not
want him for a son-in-law. But the lover was aggressive. At
night he lay in wait for the girl; he met her on the trails
when she went after firewood, or to the river for water. It
was for this reason they left Heart Butte and came to Mad
Wolf's camp; and now his daughter was lost. He wanted to
take his family back to their home in Canada, but he could
not leave the girl with young Mountain Chief. He was poor
and could not support a wife. Big Plume had no faith in him.
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 8 1
He felt bitterly towards the man who had stolen his daugh-
ter; it was no marriage and his daughter was disgraced.
In tribal life it sometimes happened that a lover asked his
sweetheart to marry him through the medium of a relative.
But as a rule it was customary for parents to decide on a
suitable husband for a girl. A chief who was prominent
would pick out a strong warrior for his son-in-law, that his
daughter, a child of plenty, might be well provided for.
After the betrothal, it was customary for a girl to carry
food to the lodge of her intended and to make moccasins
for the members of his immediate family. Her parents gave
a feast to which only his relatives were invited; and in this
way the match became known.
If the girl's family were well off, they gave many presents
— a bunch of horses and a new tepee completely furnished,
with robes and blankets, back-rests, parfleches, and cooking
utensils. They also gave their daughter a buckskin dress dec-
orated with elk teeth, and a suit trimmed with ermine tails for
her husband. They did this as a parade of their wealth and
that their social standing might be recognized by the tribe.
The man presented a number of horses to the girl's father;
and later he would be expected to share with his father-in-law
the results of his war and hunting expeditions. If he brought
back from a hunt three horses loaded with skins and meat, he
gave his father-in-law one of the loads with the choicest parts
of the meat. And in return, the father-in-law was expected
to give of his property.
There was no ceremony; and the marriage form was simple.
The couple took their places in the new tepee and began
their domestic life. The husband hunted and looked after the
horses. The wife prepared food, tanned skins, and made
clothing. The husband had no obligations to his wife in re-
gard to other women; but he held her to strict account for
her actions with other men. A husband could kill an unfaith-
82 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
ful wife, or cut off her nose, or the members of his society-
might be called upon to inflict this punishment.
But there was a stronger reason for a woman's chastity.
Only a pure woman could make a vow to the Sun for the
recovery of any of her family who were ill and give the Sun
Dance in their behalf. Death was believed to be the penalty
of a woman who vowed falsely. If a mother was not chaste
she could not make the vow to save the life of one of her chil-
dren that was dying. Besides it was a great honor for a
woman to give a Sun Dance; she stood for what was best in
Indian life; she had the respect and veneration of the entire
tribe; none stood higher than she. Parents pointed to her as
an example to their children; like her, they should live straight
and be honored by all the people.
A man might have any number of wives, but no woman
was expected to have more than one husband. Economic
conditions regulated the number of wives. A man who was
poor could have only one. A chief might have two or more,
because he was expected to be generous and open-handed,
ready at all times to share his food supply. He had to be
hospitable and entertain friends, relatives, and strangers;
as there were no servants, he needed more than one wife.
It was considered desirable for a girl to marry a chief with
a number of wives; if she married a poor man who could
afford only one wife, her life would be filled with drudgery
and hard work. Prominent men sometimes had as many as
five wives. But the first was his real or head wife. He cared
more for her, and she sat beside him in his lodge. She took the
woman's part in his ceremonies and looked after his sacred
bundles. When he traveled, he expected his first wife to go
with him. Thus she had to be more strict and careful of her
actions than the other wives, who sometimes had secret
lovers among the young men.
A man might marry a number of sisters. They were accus-
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 83
tomed to living together and less liable to have friction. Then,
too, if parents were satisfied with a son-in-law, they preferred
such an arrangement. In this way they avoided the risk and
social complications of having a number of sons-in-law.
The head-chief, White Calf, had three sisters for wives.
Catches-Two-Horses, his middle wife, went to live with him
when seven years old. And they were happy in their long
life together; he died at eighty years of age.
It was not customary for a man to marry within his own
band. There was a feeling that all the people of a band were
related, and they always hung together. A girl left the lodge
of her parents and went to live among the people of her hus-
band; she and her children thenceforth belonged to his band.
The different bands lived apart in the winter, but they
always liked to come together every summer in the sun-
dance camp.
A man was generally on the best of terms with his father-in-
law, but it was not proper for him to ever meet his mother-
in-law. It was a breach of etiquette for him to go into the
same tepee with her. A mother could not go to visit her
daughter if her son-in-law was home; she must wait until he
went away. And in order that he might not risk seeing his
mother-in-law, he always sent his wife with a customary
meat-gift to the lodge of his father-in-law after coming home
from a hunt. If he offended her, he must make amends by
giving her a good horse. A man never spoke to his mother-
in-law, nor to her sisters. He had to be careful what he said
before his brothers-in-law and his female relatives; but he
could talk freely before the sisters of his wife. They were
looked upon in the light of "distant wives."
There was a "love-medicine," which was used by both
men and women. It was a powder made from plants and
roots, and contained in small buckskin bags. Any one who
used it had to pray continually and carry out its require-
84 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
ments with the greatest care. Indians used it mostly in love
affairs — to win the affection of one who was indifferent.
There was also an antidote for persons who did not want to
fall in love. But people regarded it with fear, because bad
luck might come to the user.
Yellow Owl told me his experience with love-medicine.
He tried it when his young wife left him. He said:
"I felt so badly at losing my wife, I tried to find a charm
to make her fall in love again. I heard of an old medicine
man among the Cree Indians, who was famed for the power
of his love-medicine, and made a long journey north to find
him. And when I came to his lodge, the old man said:
"'Do you believe that my love-medicine has power to
help you? I will not give it to you unless you believe/
"He asked me that question four times; and each time I
told him I believed in his power. Then he gave me his love-
medicine for which I paid him a horse. He directed me to get
a hair from my sweetheart's head without her knowledge;
I must twine it with one of my own hairs, and put them
together in a little bag with the love-medicine and carry it
everywhere.
"After that I came home to my tepee and did as the old
man advised. I got a woman relative to steal one of my
sweetheart's hairs; I put it with one of mine in a little bag
with the love-medicine; I wore it fastened about my neck;
and because of its power my wife came back to me. She
came one day to my lodge and said:
"'You have some strange power over me; I cannot stay
away any longer.'
"Then I told her she could remain with her father if she
wished. But she would not leave me. She said some power
was holding her. Now I will not release her. I still wear the
love-charm of the Cree medicine man; and she has been my
only woman ever since."
CHAPTER XI
THE HEAD-CHIEF AND HIS WIFE
White Calf, head-chief of the tribe, and Mad Wolf lived
near each other on Cutbank River. They had been friends
for many years. Mad Wolf secured his sacred Beaver Bundle
from White Calf; and the ceremonies brought the two chiefs
and their wives into close relations. Their families, too,
were on intimate terms and continually visited each other.
Dives-under-Water, granddaughter of White Calf, and Ana-
tapsa, granddaughter of Mad Wolf, were bosom companions;
and the four stalwart sons of the head-chief, Wolf Tail,
Cross Guns, Two Guns, and Night Gun came often to our
camp.
White Calf was then over seventy. But, in spite of his
years, he still stood erect; rode horseback and walked with
brisk step. For nearly thirty years he had been head-chief
and was a real father to his people. He was called upon to
settle all manner of disputes; and to make peace with those
who quarreled. He had a gentle and benevolent spirit, and his
kindness of heart showed in his benign countenance. He
gave freely to the poor and helped widows and orphans. He
was brave in war, deliberate and sound of judgment. But
his most prominent trait was his love for fellow tribesmen.
All his life he strove for their welfare with an earnestness and
devotion rarely equaled by rulers of civilized peoples. In
the defense of his tribe, he had a sturdy earnestness and de-
votion which the bullying threats of United States Govern-
ment officials could not sway.
I remember a band of Sioux Indians who came as visi-
tors to our camp. They had been on the way for over a month
86 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
— a journey of more than six hundred miles over the arid
plains. As soon as they arrived, our Indian agent ordered them
home; he refused to allow them time to rest their tired horses.
Then White Calf went to the Sioux camp and told them
to remain. He warned the Government agent that his tribe
would go on the warpath if their visitors were not allowed
to stay; and the venerable head-chief had his way.
For sixty years White Calf roamed the plains, happy in his
freedom. His tribe were free to wander from the Saskatche-
wan River to the Yellowstone in the south. Their hunting-
grounds extended over thousands of square miles, and their
war expeditions roamed as far south as Mexico. The con-
quering white men came. The herds of buffalo suddenly dis-
appeared; and the Indians were confined to a reservation by
the white men. Then White Calf advised his people not to
fight, but to adapt themselves to their new conditions of
living.
White Calf had three wives who were sisters. W 7 hen I
first met him, two of his wives were living, Catches-Two-
Horses and Black-Snake- Woman. His first wife, the oldest
of the sisters, was dead. Her grave was on a high hill near his
home.
One day I went with Little Creek to White Calf's lodge
and found Catches-Two-Horses. She was a fine type of In-
dian woman, a good mother, industrious and conscientious.
She had been sacred woman in the Sun Dance and was be-
loved by all for her generosity and kindness of heart.
When we entered the lodge, Little Creek said: "Our white
brother wants you to tell about the past." And Catches-
Two-Horses answered: "Tales of the past should only be told
after dark. I might become blind if I tell them in the day-
time.
Her son Two Guns and his wife, a daughter of Little Dog
the war chief, were also at home. She was young and lively;
THE HEAD-CHIEF AND HIS WIFE 87
like her father, she was always smiling. There were also
visitors present from the north — a Blood Indian and his wife
whom they called Sarcee Face. She was a wit and kept them
laughing. She told about a swarm of bees attacking her
while in the middle of a river; her face was still swollen from
their stings. So I advised her to go to the river bank and
cover the wounds with soft mud. She came back astonished
at the success of my strange remedy. Then she made the
rest laugh by saying: "I have a brother who is always being
stung by bees. I am going to roll him in the mud when I
get home."
I asked Catches-Two-Horses to tell about the Sun Dance.
The lively young wife of Two Guns laughed and said:
"He wants to find out about the Sun Dance, because he
thinks of taking an Indian wife and will want to give the
ceremony himself." Sarcee Face made them laugh again by
saying to me:
"You would make a funny medicine man. They would
take off your clothes and paint you black all over; your white
skin would show through and you would be a pink-looking
medicine man."
By this time Catches-Two-Horses was ready to talk. She
made an end of the joking when she said:
"I was seven years old when I became the wife of White
Calf. My older sister was already his wife. I remember my
age, because I had lived one year with my husband before I
lost my first teeth. I have never cared for any ether man, nor
did I have a secret lover. My father was Black-Snake-Man.
He was head-chief of the tribe many years ago. I remember
when he first told our people they were going to get food
from the Government. At that time we were camped at the
place where the Yellowstone River flows into the Missouri.
Then many Indians were starving, because the buffalo had
disappeared.
88 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"During my life I have given three sun-dance ceremonies.
I was a young girl when I saw my first Sun Dance; and looked
for the first time upon a medicine woman. I wanted to be
like her, to live a good life and be honored by all the people.
"I gave my first Sun Dance because of a battle with the
Assiniboines. I made a vow in order that the Sun might
keep some of my relatives from being injured in the fight. I
gave my second, to fulfill a vow by my son Cross Guns. He
made it in battle when surrounded by enemies. He looked
up to the Sun and prayed:
'"Great Spirit in the Sun, have pity and spare my life.
If I escape from this danger, I promise that my mother will
give a Sun Dance in your honor.*
"Cross Guns escaped and came home. When I saw him
I ran out to meet him. He kissed me and said:
" ' Mother, I have made a lot of trouble for you. In a fight
with the Crows, I was surrounded and thought I was going
to be killed; I made a vow to the Sun; I promised that if I
came through alive, you would make a medicine lodge (Sun
Dance). I know this means suffering for you — to starve
yourself and become thin and weak.'
" But I was glad. Quickly I made my vow; I kept praying
day and night:
"'Sun Above! Pity me!
May I be pure and lead a straight life.
May I be kind-hearted and good to every one.
May my children and relatives live to be old.'
"Another time I was ill; the doctors said I was going to
die. A messenger carried this news to my son Cross Guns
who was camped on Badger Creek. It was midnight when
he was told. He looked up to the sky and prayed:
'"Moon and Stars! Have pity on my mother.
May she live!
If she recovers from this night,
I promise you she will give the Sun Dance.'
THE HEAD-CHIEF AND HIS WIFE 89
"Cross Guns generally prayed to the Sun. But that night
he prayed to the Moon and Stars, because they were in the
sky. Next day he came to my tepee and made known his
vow.
"We began our preparations in the early spring, before the
snow was gone. We gathered tongues for the food and pur-
chased a sacred headdress. I fasted and prayed day and
night. On our way to the circle camp I had three travois,
for the sacred tongues and my clothes."
Then the old woman changed from the subject of the Sun
Dance and began to tell about her first experience with a
Medicine Pipe. She said:
"Many years ago our people had a big camp at the lower
end of the Cypress Hills. It was midsummer. The four
tribes, Bloods, Piegans, Sarcees and North Blackfoot, came
together in the same camp. It was so large that our chiefs
formed two great circles, instead of one as was our custom.
My father, Black-Snake-Man, and Lone Chief were head
men; Little Dog was war chief and Four Bears head medicine
man. I was then a girl of fourteen; and in that camp I first
learned about the Medicine Pipe.
"One day White Calf had visitors at our tepee. He ran
short of tobacco and asked me to borrow from his friend
Four Bears, the medicine man. A large crowd was about his
lodge, and inside many men dressed in fine costumes. I
wondered what was going on; but I never thought it was a
medicine-pipe ceremony. I stood at the door and asked
Four Bears for the tobacco. At first he said he had none.
Then I started to go away and he called me back. He left
his seat at the back of the tepee and took some tobacco from
a bundle hanging over the door. I saw him burn some in-
cense and hold the tobacco in the smoke. He also made a
prayer and said:
"Here is tobacco. W T ith it I give you the sacred bundle
9 o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
that hangs over the door. From it you can take tobacco
whenever you want.'
"I felt proud of his having given such a fine present. I
took the tobacco to White Calf and gave him the message.
He looked at me strangely and said:
"'Go back to Four Bears and tell him: "White Calf made
a vow in his youth, that if any one ever offered him a Medi-
cine Pipe he would take it.' "
"I was frightened at these words and the way my husband
looked. But I went back and told Four Bears before his
guests. Then they all began to sing and to beat on their
drums. They came forth and marched towards our tepee,
singing and drumming and shaking their rattles. Four of
them put a robe about White Calf and took him back to the
lodge of Four Bears.
"Then came the ceremony of transferring the pipe. Four
Bears pitched a large lodge near the center of the camp. His
wife came and dressed me for the occasion. I wore a buck-
skin dress with beaded leggings and moccasins to match,
and a robe of soft tanned elkskin. My husband had a buck-
skin suit fringed over the shoulders and arms with scalp-
locks taken in battle, and a fine buffalo robe decorated with a
band of colored beads. Four Bears gave us a bay horse with
the Medicine Pipe, a saddle, whip, and painted rawhide rope.
When we were ready to start for the big dance lodge, Four
Bears led this horse bearing the Medicine Pipe and White
Calf, with the buffalo robe over his head and extending back
over the horse's flanks. I followed with my sister, Black-
Snake- Woman, carrying the sacred bundles. In the dance
lodge we had a pile of presents which our friends and rela-
tives gave to help us pay for the pipe. We had to give Four
Bears many horses, besides robes and blankets. Then he
taught us the chants, prayers, and dances that go to make
up the ceremony, and the rules we must follow in the care of
the pipe.
THE HEAD-CHIEF AND HIS WIFE 91
"Soon after this ceremony five Gros Ventres attacked
our camp and took some horses. White Calf followed with
a band of our warriors and killed all of them. He took their
scalps and we had a Scalp Dance. After that Four Bears,
the former owner of the Medicine Pipe, and his two wives,
took us to the dance. Because White Calf had taken the
scalps, it was now proper for his wives to take part in the
Scalp Dance. And this is the end of my tale."
CHAPTER XII
LEGEND OF THE SMOKING STAR
White Grass, the medicine man, lived in Cutbank Valley,
between the homes of Mad Wolf and White Calf. He went by
the nickname of "Shorty." He was a well-built, active
little Indian, neat in dress and appearance, small in stature
and good-natured. He had a prominent upper lip, sharp
features, and a dry and wrinkled face, which, with an air of
keenness, gave him a sly, shrewd look, like an old fox.
He had good standing as a medicine man, because of his
knowledge of ceremonies and his social position. He was
skilled in the conducting of ceremonies and handling of
sacred bundles. He helped Mad Wolf, my Indian father,
with his beaver ceremony; and was called in when any of the
family were ill. He had reputation as a doctor and could
treat certain kinds of troubles. His power over disease was
believed to have been given him through supernatural ex-
periences in visions and dreams. He was somewhat of a mind
reader and mesmerist. He knew how to inspire confidence
in his patients, which helped in their recovery. He also knew
signs and omens both good and bad, and could tell people
how to avoid bad luck. He was a great talker and liked to
tell stories of the old days, when his tribe were free to wander
and had many chiefs and medicine men. He spoke deliber-
ately and in a low voice, using his hands freely in graceful
gestures. He said:
"There is an ancient legend about a Smoking Star (Comet),
that has been handed down through many generations. He
came down from the sky to help old women and maidens
who were in trouble.
PC y
LEGEND OF THE SMOKING STAR 93
"A camp of two lodges once stood far out on the prairie.
In one of them lived an old man with his wife; and in the
other their son-in-law who was married to their three daugh-
ters. The young man was a hunter. He provided food for
both lodges. One evening a herd of buffalo came near.
Early next morning the son-in-law shouted: 'Get up, old
man, we will go together to drive the buffalo.' So the old
father-in-law went with him to help in the hunt.
"Now this son-in-law was mean and heartless. He took
it easy and made the old man do the work. He sat still and
killed the fat ones, while his old father-in-law drove them
past. But, when the hunt was over and it was time to cut
up the animals, the son-in-law said: 'Go back to camp, old
man, and tell the women to come out here. Your daughters
can take back any share of the meat there is coming to you;
you are too old to be of any use.' But he lied, for he did not
want the old people to have anything to eat. That son-in-
law kept on doing this every day. He made the old man go
with him and drive the buffalo; but he would not allow the
daughters to share any of the meat with their aged father and
mother. He wanted to starve them.
"Now the youngest of the three daughters was the only
one with a kind heart. She looked after the old people.
Every day after the hunt, she hid a piece of meat under her
robe. She carried it to them secretly and tried to keep them
from starving.
"One day the son-in-law called as usual in the early morn-
ing: 'Hurry up, old man, let us go and run the buffalo.'
They went together and hunted. As was his custom, the
young man sent his father-in-law to drive the buffalo and do
all the hard work, while he himself sat still. Now it happened
that the old man walked alone in a buffalo trail. He saw a clot
of blood which a wounded animal had coughed up. He said
to himself: 'Here is something we can make into soup.' But
94 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
he was afraid of his son-in-law; so he pretended to stumble
and spilled the arrows from his quiver. Then he picked
them up and put in quickly that clot of blood, placing his
arrows on top. But the son-in-law was suspicious and said:
"'Old man, what were you doing so long in that buffalo
trail ? What did you pick up there ? '
"'I fell and spilled my arrows,' said he. ' I was only putting
them back into my quiver.'
"'Go home and tell the women to come out,' answered
the son-in-law sharply.
"Then the old man went back to the camp and told his
daughters their husband needed help with the meat. And
the son-in-law kept all the food for himself. He gave nothing
to the old people.
"When the old man got back to his own tepee, he said:
'Old woman, make the fire ready and the stone pot. To-day
we have something to eat.' And he took the clot of blood
from his quiver. 'Make haste,' said he, 'that we may eat
before our son-in-law comes back.'
"Then his old woman hurried to put the clot of blood into
the pot; and, when the water began to boil, they heard a
child crying. It seemed to come from their pot. They looked
in quickly and saw a baby. The old woman took the pot
from the fire and lifted the child up. She said to her husband:
'It is a boy baby.' And he said: 'Old woman, take him out.
By means of him we shall live.' So she wrapped up the baby
and cared for him.
"When the son-in-law came home with the meat, he heard
a child crying. He said to his youngest wife: 'The old woman
must have a baby. Go over to their tepee and see. If it is a
boy, I shall kill him; if a girl, I shall let her live.
"Now the youngest wife was the only one of the three
daughters who cared for their parents. She went to their tepee
and asked: 'What is the child? My husband wants to know.'
LEGEND OF THE SMOKING STAR 95
"And the old man said to her: 'It is a boy, but you must
tell him it is a girl.'
"So the young wife went back to her husband and said:
'You will have another wife; it is a girl baby.' He was
pleased and said:
"'Take some of these buffalo bones to your mother, that
she may make soup with them and be able to raise the child.'
"But the young wife, on the sly, put some good meat with
the bones.
"Now this all happened in the morning; and, when night
came, the child (Smoking Star), kept looking at the lodge-
poles and then at the old man. The old man was wise. He
knew now that this child was supernatural and would help
them. He took up the baby and held him first towards the
lodge-pole on the south side of the door. The baby smiled;
and they knew that this was what he wanted. So they held
him towards each lodge-pole in turn, and after each pole the
child grew larger. When he was halfway round the tepee, he
was too heavy for the old man to hold; he stood him on the
ground and kept turning him, until he faced the last lodge-
pole on the south side of the door. By this time the child had
grown to be a man.
"He said: 'I am hungry. Give me to eat.'
"The old woman replied: 'My son, your brother-in-law
over there is trying to starve us.'
"Then she cooked him the last piece of meat which her
youngest daughter had brought them. The young man said:
"'I am Smoking Star. I came down from my home in the
sky to help you. And when I have done this, I shall return
again to the sky.'
"He went out and made a bow for himself from the rib of
a buffalo and used a tendon for the string. He also made
arrows and flints for arrow-tips. When everything was ready,
he asked the old man where they went to hunt, and said:
96 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"'We shall start at break of day, before your son-in-law
is awake.'
"In the early morning the old man and Smoking Star set
out. Before they had gone far, they killed a fat buffalo cow.
Smoking Star hid himself behind it and told the old man to
stand by the carcass and wait.
"That morning the son-in-law came as usual and called for
the old man to come forth to hunt. He said angrily to the old
woman: 'He is late. It is time we were started.' When she
told him her husband had been gone a long time, he shouted:
"'I have a mind to kill you first!'
"Then the old man saw his terrible son-in-law coming.
But Smoking Star said:
"'Don't be afraid. Be eating some of the buffalo meat.
And when he comes up you must talk back to him. This will
make him so mad he will try to kill you. But he can't harm
you, for I am here to help you.'
"The son-in-law came near and saw the old man eating
beside the carcass of the buffalo cow. He shouted: 'Aha!
There is no one to keep me from killing you now ! '
"Then the old man mocked him and said after him: 'Aha!
There is no one to keep me from killing you now!'
"The son-in-law was ready to shoot an arrow and kill
him, when Smoking Star rose suddenly from behind the
buffalo. At this the son-in-law was so frightened, he said:
'I was only going to shoot in fun.'
"'Now is the time for me to have fun with you.' He put
an arrow in his bow and killed the wicked son-in-law.
"Then Smoking Star said to the old man: 'Take only the
best meat from this carcass, for you are now the owner of
your son-in-law's tepee and all his possessions. You will
have plenty of good meat and robes to keep you warm.'
"He asked the old man which of his daughters had been
kind to him. He said: 'The youngest was the only one who
LEGEND OF THE SMOKING STAR 97
gave us food.' Smoking Star went to the lodge and told the
youngest wife that she must look after her father and mother.
He killed the other two women. He took their bodies and
that of their husband and burned them together in a fire.
He turned over both of the lodges to the old man and the
old woman; and after that they had plenty to eat.
"Smoking Star had finished his work there, so he said:
'Father, I must now go on my way.' He left them and came
to another Indian camp, to the lodge of some old women.
They asked him how it happened that he came to the poor
lodge of an old woman, when he could go to lodges where
there were men. Smoking Star said: 'I am an old woman's
child. I am not looking for men's lodges.'
"Then they gave him meat, but it was poor and lean.
And Smoking Star said: 'Why don't you give me some fat
meat?' 'Hush!' said the old women. 'Don't speak so loud.
If the bears hear you, they will kill you. They always take
the choice pieces of meat for themselves. They take all the
good fat and give us only the lean. They live in the big
Bear Tepee in the center of the camp.'
"Smoking Star said, 'In the morning I shall hunt buffalo.'
He went through the camp and called to the people:
"'Go early to the corral, for I shall drive the buffalo over
the cliff. There will be plenty of meat for all. Let every one
come.'
"In the morning all the people came forth and saw the
corral full of buffalo. Smoking Star killed the fattest cow and
cut it up. He took the best parts for the old women. Some
of it he lay in front of their tepee, in plain sight, where the
bears could see. Soon they came forth to plunder. A young
cub was first. He quickly smelled the meat and ran to the
old women's tepee and seized the fattest piece. Then Smok-
ing Star shouted:
"'Hey there! Young fellow! Go back where you belong.
98 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
I did not kill that buffalo for you. The meat belongs to those
old women.'
"He cut the young bear across the face with his knife.
It ran crying to its mothe 1 * and said:
"'I was only taking a piece of meat when a man yelled
at me and cut me across the face.'
"Then the old she-bear flew into a terrible rage; and the
big father bear said: 'My son, take us over there. Perhaps
that man will try to cut me across the face.'
"Smoking Star saw the bears coming. He drew his white-
rock knife and ordered them to be off. But they ran at him.
The old she-bear came first and her husband next. Smoking
Star stabbed her and then the he-bear. He killed them both.
Then he went to the bear lodge and killed all the other bears.
There were none of them left; and he gave their big tepee and
all of the meat to the poor old women. After that he left
them.
"Then he came to a camp where he saw no young women.
Again he went to an old women's tepee and asked how it hap-
pened. They pointed to a big Snake Tepee in the middle of
the camp. They said:
"'The snakes have all of our young women. They take
them by force and keep them in their lodge.'
"Smoking Star said: 'Now you will own everything in
that tepee.' He walked into the lodge of the snakes and took
a seat at the back. Soon the chief snake began to rattle, to
rouse all the other snakes. Smoking Star took out his white-
rock knife and waited. When the chief snake raised its head
in the air, and was ready to strike, Smoking Star cut off its
head. He killed all the other snakes and set the young
women free; he walked through the camp and told the men
to go after their wives.
"Then Smoking Star started again on his travels. He
came to a lake where a terrible water monster lived. He
LEGEND OF THE SMOKING STAR 99
Stuck it with his knife and made it crawl. He jumped on
its back and rode it into the water. He made it swim to the
middle of the lake, where the water was deep. He called upon
the Thunder and a big storm came up. The lightning struck
the monster and killed it. The water of the lake was scat-
tered and was never seen there again. Nor did any one ever
find the body of Smoking Star. He went back to the sky,
and became a star. Sometimes we see him in the southern
sky in the evening. It was the Smoking Star who drove the
big snakes and bears from the prairie. Those he let live fled to
the mountains. And now the dogs have separated, after
having had their meal." (The Indian way of saying — my
story-telling is finished.)
CHAPTER XIII
MY NIGHT EXPERIENCE WITH A GRIZZLY BEAR
When the leaves of the aspen and cottonwoods were turning
yellow, the scout and I drove the herd into the corral and
caught horses for a hunting trip to the mountains. That day
a spirit of stubbornness possessed our horses. From the start
we had trouble. Hard as I worked I could not hold them
in line. Instead of following the scout, they hung back and
wandered from the trail. They reminded me of people.
Watching over them on the trail, they ceased to be mere
beasts of burden, and became friends with individuality
and characteristics of their own.
Brownie, the most ambitious, was happier in the lead.
Strong and energetic, he was fitted for the place. Our blue
horse was a nonentity; conscientious, honest and slow, but
by nature a subordinate. Old Pinto, with a coat of red and
white, had great endurance. He gave the impression of wis-
dom and experience. We had a large bay horse with a
roman nose. He was headstrong and fiery, afraid of rattling
things and of ropes dangling about his heels; he carried our
bedding. A sorrel named Dandy was nervous and shy, too
timid to assert himself; he was imposed upon by the others.
Baldy, my own pack horse, was small and wiry, sure-
footed as a mountain goat, but lazy and with diabolical
cunning. He was too careful of his own safety to fall or
wear himself out; sometimes he pretended to be nervous.
But in bad places he never stumbled or faltered.
That day, while we were throwing on his load, he kept his
legs spread apart and braced them firmly. He flinched and
trembled as though receiving a heavy load — more than he
EXPERIENCE WITH A GRIZZLY BEAR 101
could bear; and on the trail he groaned. But I took no notice
of his complaints. His pack was light and I understood his
tricks. Finally he stopped and lay down in the trail; he
closed his eyes as if in pain; he trembled and gave groans
that were pitiful to hear. I jumped from my horse and ran
at him with my whip. He saw me coming and stopped sud-
denly in the middle of a groan. He struggled to get up,
sneezed to hide his chagrin and ran after the outfit.
We had a buckskin horse with hide of yellow tan. His
black mane and tail, black rings around his legs, and a black
streak down the center of his back suggested a zebra ancestry.
He was strong and stocky; hardest drives did not tire him.
Buck was so reliable, we felt as if we could always depend
upon him. But that day he gave us a surprise.
After a long rest at the ranch, Buck was feeling fine.
When his pack slipped, he pretended to be frightened. He
made a series of high jumps, landing stiff-legged on all fours;
and gave his pack such a jolt that it turned. Then he threw
his tail into the air and away he went. To frighten the other
horses he ran among them, with pots and kettles rattling
and banging. They were glad to stampede. The scout fol-
lowed the main outfit; he took it as a matter of course. I
rode after Buck who kicked off everything, even his pack-
saddle. Then I caught him and went back over his trail, to
find the precious contents of his pack and gather together
our cooking utensils and kitchen outfit.
But we finally came to the mountains and entered the
valley of the Cutbank, where there was a green forest of
spruce and lodge-pole pine. In that whole region, the only
broad-leaf tree in abundance was the aspen. The ground was
covered with a soft carpet of moss and pine needles; and thim-
bleberry bushes full of crimson fruit. Then we turned into a
side valley and followed a stream, where the trail was tor-
tuous. At every turn the scene became more wild, until we
ioi OLD INDIAN TRAILS
came finally to a mass of burned and fallen trees. There we
stopped to rest and feast on red raspberries fully ripe; and
found an opening thickly covered with huckleberry bushes,
bearing the largest berries I have ever seen.
There is nothing more trying than to drive obstinate
pack horses through fallen timber. The main thing is to give
them plenty of time. Sometimes they turned from the trail
and went down the mountain side, or dodged through stand-
ing timber; and then their packs were torn and loosened by
the trees.
At dusk we emerged weary from the forest and came into
a basin with a meadow of green grass. A more romantic
spot for a camp I have never seen — a narrow valley sur-
rounded by high mountains and sheltered by trees. Through
the meadow flowed a stream of clear water. Waterfalls
dashed over the cliffs and fell into the stream below. We
pitched our lodge on a carpet of green moss, near an ancient
.fir tree and a grove of spruces which sheltered us from the
cold winds that sweep down the valley from the snowfields.
Soon after we turned our horses loose, I heard a kind of
grunting, or roaring whine, answered by the frightened snorts
of horses as they galloped away; and the scout shouted: "Hi,
there! A grizzly bear! A grizzly bear!"
Among the hoofprints of the horses I found the tracks of
a huge bear. But he had gone and we got no sight of him. I
saw the place where he had been turning over stones hunting
for insects and ant eggs, and tearing up the ground after
squirrels.
At dark a cold wind came down the valley, and we gathered
many logs and threw them on our camp-fire, till the big fir
tree looked like a specter in the red glow of the flames. Then
we lighted our pipes and sat by the fire. The scout had the
gift of companionship; and when he talked I always felt at
ease. He refreshed me with his knowledge of nature and of
EXPERIENCE WITH A GRIZZLY BEAR 103
the woods, and stimulated my interest in Indians. That
night he talked about the bear and said:
"In this valley a big grizzly has his range. He has lived
here so long, he must now be very old. The Indians know
him well and are afraid to shoot at him. He comes boldly
into their camps and takes food. He is so big we believe he
has supernatural power and call him the ' Medicine Grizzly.
After that there was silence for a while. The fire burned
low and we sat gazing into the embers. By this time the
valley was in darkness; but I saw the rugged outlines of the
mountains against the sky, their snowy summits lighted by
myriads of brilliant stars. I heard the rippling of the stream,
the sound of the waterfall and the tinkle of the horse-bell
where our herd were feeding. Then a wailing cry, probably
the voice of some lynx or wolverine, arose from the depths of
the forest. It made me think of the big grizzly in whose
range we were camped. Little did I realize I would soon
meet him face to face.
For several days the scout and I hunted on the mountains.
We climbed to timber-line with its dwarfed and distorted
trees. Above were the rocky heights and below the dark
forest. In the front line were trees only a few feet in height,
many hundreds of years old. Some were pushed partly over
by storms and had all their branches pointing one way.
They were battered and twisted by a thousand storms and
overweighted by heavy snows. But we found no game, not
even tracks.
Then the scout said he would go among the high peaks
at the head of the valley. He took a light pack and went
alone, while I stayed in our camp to guard the provisions and
to look after the horses. In order to help in the hunt, I loaned
him my large Winchester rifle of 45-70 caliber. Little did I
realize how much I would need it myself.
After the scout had gone, I climbed the mountains for
io 4 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
camera pictures, caught trout in the stream and looked after
our horses. Most of the provisions I stored inside the lodge,
to be safe from wild animals and sudden storms. But I had
an out-of-door kitchen at the edge of the woods, where I
cooked in good weather and kept a supply of food.
One afternoon heavy clouds gathered over the mountains
and a storm swept through the valley. Our horses left the
meadow and came to the lodge, to pay me a little visit and
to get a bite of salt all around; and then they strolled back
again.
I passed that evening reading and writing by the lodge-
fire. Finally I lay in my blankets and watched the fire burn
low, until there was only a bed of glowing embers; and I fell
asleep. In the dead of night, our horses wakened me by
coming close to the lodge. I wondered at their leaving their
feeding grounds again, and went out to drive them back.
The storm was over. The clouds had broken and the moon
was shining.
After the horses had gone, there was quiet. The wind had
fallen and there was a strange stillness. I stood for a moment
and looked reverently at the mystic mountains in the moon-
light. I felt that uplift of spirit that I always have in the pres-
ence of giant peaks. I heard the solemn hooting of an owl,
the distant cries of coyotes, and the rippling of the river
rapids.
The night air was so cold I soon went back to my warm
blankets. But I could not sleep; I had a feeling that some-
thing was near. Finally I raised myself and listened. Sud-
denly a rattling of pans came from my outside kitchen.
Thinking one of the horses had come back, I jumped from
my blankets. I seized a stick and ran out to investigate. A
huge shadowy form stood against the black line of the forest.
It looked like a horse and I was about to hurl my club; but
this animal was no horse. It stood high in front and was low
EXPERIENCE WITH A GRIZZLY BEAR 105
behind. It gazed steadily at me with lowered head, which
moved slowly from side to side. Then came a sudden snort,
a sort of snarling whine; and I realized that I was in close
quarters with a huge grizzly bear. The thought of beating
him with a stick made a chill run down my backbone; I felt
weak in the knees; and I had the sensation of "my hair
standing on end."
I remembered hearing that it was sure death to run from
a grizzly bear, so I put on a bold front and backed slowly into
the lodge. I started to build a fire; I thought the light might
drive him off. But I was so excited it seemed ages before I
could find either matches or knife. Had I my rifle I might
have tried to shoot him; but we were in such close quarters
and in the dark, he might have killed me.
No sooner had I a fire burning, than I heard his heavy
footsteps; he was coming towards the lodge, but stopped
near the door to examine my saddle. For a moment he stood
sniffing and grunting; then came close to the side of the tepee,
where we had the provisions stored. He raised himself
on his hind legs, with front paws against the poles. I was
directly underneath him; I saw the canvas press in and heard
his heavy breathing. It seemed like a nightmare; again my
hair stood on end. I shouted; and the sound of my own voice
in that dimly lighted tepee sounded strange and far away.
Then the bear got down on all fours and went back to his
feast at my outside kitchen.
Believing the crisis was now past and that the old grizzly
would do me no harm, I began to take a friendly interest
and watched him through an opening in the door. He
knocked a cover from a mess of trout; finished a bowl of
delicious peaches and tore open bags of flour and sugar. Ay
last he came to our "dutch oven," a heavy iron kettle for
baking bread. In it I had stored, for safe-keeping, my great-
est delicacy — a small piece of butter. For a moment his
106 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
efforts were vain; the heavy iron lid held fast. Then he be-
came angry; with his powerful forepaw he struck the kettle
such a blow that the cover flew off; and I heard his rough
tongue lick up the last of my provisions.
At the first sign of dawn, my dangerous visitor departed
suddenly into the forest and I saw him no more. When the
scout returned from his hunt, I showed him the tracks of the
grizzly's huge feet and the marks of his long claws in the
soft earth. They measured thirteen inches in length, seven
inches across the toe and six at the heel. The scout said a
grizzly of that size would weigh as much as a large horse.
By the lodge-fire that night, he told me about the origin
of the "Medicine Grizzly."
Story of the Medicine Grizzly
"The things I now tell you happened many years ago,
when Mad Wolf, your Indian father, was a young man. He
was the war chief of an expedition that went across the
Rocky Mountains against the Flathead Indians. Two of his
brothers were with him; but they both turned back before
they reached the Flathead country. Mad Wolf and his war-
riors returned later by Cutbank Pass.
"Mad Wolf was riding in the lead, with the others follow-
ing on both sides of the trail, as was the custom of war par-
ties in those days. For fear of meeting enemies, they rode
silently through the forest. Suddenly Mad Wolf heard
footsteps and signed for the others to hide. It was a war
party of Kutenai Indians. They ran into the ambush. In
the fight, Mad Wolf singled out the Kutenai chief and killed
him after a hard fight. On his body he found the scalps of his
own two brothers, who had turned back. Mad Wolf sang his
war song and ran back to help the rest of his party, who were
by this time retreating. He roused them to fight harder;
and together they killed all of the Kutenai, except one old
EXPERIENCE WITH A GRIZZLY BEAR 107
woman. They spared her life and gave her to the Sun. They
took the scalps from the dead Kutenai warriors and had a
scalp dance. Then they painted the face of the old woman
black. They spared her life and set her free, as a sacrifice to
the Sun. They gave her food and presents — a warm blanket
and dried meat. They put her on the right trail and started
her towards home, with a prayer that the Sun would pity
them, as they had their helpless enemy.
"After that Mad Wolf and his party crossed the summit
and came down through Cutbank Valley. There they found
the camp of some of our people, Running Wolf, Black Bear,
and Middle Calf, who came into the mountains to cut lodge-
poles. They were camped here, by this old fir tree.
"That evening they were all gathered at the lodge of
Middle Calf to hear about Mad Wolf's trip. It was a warm
moonlight night and some of the women were outside. Mid-
dle Calf told his wife to bring a pail of water from the stream.
She came back frightened. She said: 'I met a stranger at the
crossing. He jumped across the stream and ran into the
forest.'
"Then another woman said: 'I just saw a man near the
big fir tree. He looked into the lodge and ran away. He was
an enemy. I could see his war bonnet.'
"Mad Wolf and the rest seized their weapons and ran out.
They met a band of Gros Ventres who were ready to attack
their camp. They killed all of the Gros Ventres except their
leader. He escaped into the underbrush and stood them off.
When his arrows were all gone, he fought savagely with his
knife. All the time he made a noise like a grizzly bear. He
dared the Blackfoot to come into the thicket. He kept
shouting: 'Come on! I am not afraid. My power is very
great.'
"After the Blackfoot had killed him, they found that he
was a medicine man; his power came from the grizzly bear.
108 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
He wore the skin of a grizzly and had a necklace of big claws
about his neck. They scalped the dead Gros Ventres warriors
and had a scalp dance around a fire. But they burned the
body of their leader; they were afraid some of his supernat-
ural power might escape and do them harm.
"The summer after that, a party of Indians came into Cut-
bank Valley, to this same meadow. They pitched their
lodges near this old fir tree where we are now camped — the
place where you saw the big bear. That night this same griz-
zly came into their camp and took all the food he wanted.
The dogs attacked him; but he killed some and put the rest
to flight. He was so big they were afraid to shoot. We call
him the Medicine Grizzly. We believe he is the medicine
man of the Gros Ventres. When he was killed near this old
fir tree, he changed himself into a grizzly bear."
CHAPTER XIV
INDIAN SUMMER
October was fine that year, with days of warm sunshine
and frosty nights — ideal for living in the open. Late in the
month a party of Indians, both men and women, stopped at
our ranch on their way to the mountains. Little Creek and
my Indian sister were going; Yellow Bird, Onesta, and his
wife Nitana; the sisters Katoyisa and Ninake; and they
asked me to go along.
We put two old mares in the heavy wagon, to carry
blankets and camp equipment; they were the only horses to
be found near the ranch. Yellow Bird drove the team with
Katoyisa and I rode Kutenai, my saddle horse.
Soon, one of the team became lame; and Yellow Bird
went back for another horse. So I put Kutenai in the harness
and mounted the driver's seat beside the Indian girl.
At first the going was good. The prairie was level and
we had no trouble; but we were left far behind. Our wagon
was heavy, the team slow and badly matched. Without a
whip, I had to shout and swing my lariat to make the horses
move along. Throughout the day we saw no big game,
only jack rabbits and badgers and ground squirrels, chirping
and standing straight up, like miniature prairie dogs.
Near the mountains we came to rough traveling, up hill
and down. In bad places, with no road to follow, there was
danger of breaking the tongue, a wheel or an axle. We had
to cross gullies and washouts and streams with high banks;
to find our way round ravines, and through thickets of alder
and quaking aspen.
We did not talk much, but our silence was natural. Kato-
no OLD INDIAN TRAILS
yisa only spoke when she felt like it. She was a quiet, self-
contained girl, fearless and conscientious. She wanted to
help her tribe in their struggle for survival; that they might
learn to adapt themselves to the ways of the conquering
white race.
That day I felt as though I were in a dream — like a
pioneer of early days, on my way to a new land with this In-
dian girl. But, alas! I was brought suddenly back to earth.
We crossed the summit of a high ridge and overlooked a
terrible hill — a steep descent to a lower level of the plain,
stretching to the foot of the mountains. The air was marvel-
ously clear, and fragrant with the scent of pine and cedar.
We started down the hill; and I thought to myself: "If this
heavy wagon ever gets started, the horses cannot hold it
and we shall both be killed." The ground was smooth and
hard, with a grass-covered gravel. When the tail of the wagon
began to swing, Katoyisa was calm and unafraid. And, when
the brakes did not hold, she was quick to act; she jumped
from the wagon and held the heads of the frightened horses,
while I blocked the wheels with stones. Then we rough-
locked the wheels with ropes; and cut down a green tree and
lashed it to the body of the wagon, so that it dragged on the
ground in front of the hind wheels. Thus we made our way
slowly down the steep hill, zigzagging back and forth until
we came to a dangerous slant, where the wagon went on two
wheels and began to topple. We thought we were turning
over. But neither of us tried to jump. I put my arm about
Katoyisa and we were ready. Then the wagon suddenly
righted itself; I turned the horses into a low growth of
aspens; and thus we came safely to the bottom.
We trailed the rest of our party across level prairie and
along a river, passing through the broad entrance of a valley
through lovely meadows of tall bunch grass, thickets of
willows and groves of poplars, until we came to our camping
INDIAN SUMMER in
place in the mountains — a high bench over the river and
close to a green forest of pine and spruce.
In the northern Rockies the autumn nights come early.
The sun was down by the time we had our camp ready, and
the horses watered and picketed. Then we built a big camp-
fire, for the night air was cold. We roasted meat on sticks
over the hot coals, and stalks of wild parsnip to bring out the
juice. My companions used neither knives nor forks; and like
them I held the meat in my hands and tore it with my teeth;
but it had a relish and flavor I never tasted in civilization.
In that autumn camp, the Indians were at their best.
They were light-hearted and happy, as if they had not a care
in the world. They were nomads by nature and loved to
wander, to be free and live in the open. They sang Indian
songs and told stories and tales of adventure. They talked
about a mad Indian who roamed the plains and mountains;
he traveled so fast every one was afraid; he killed people on
sight, both Indian and white; he was on the warpath and
wanted to kill as many as he could before he died; he came
silently at night and shot people as they stood in the firelight.
Thus we sat and talked by the fire until late. We slept on
the grass, under the stars. The women were together in one
place, sharing their robes and blankets; the men in another,
with our horses picketed near. As soon as the Indians lay
down, there was quiet. But I lay awake, drinking in the clear
fresh air and the fragrance of the forest, and watching the
moon rise over the broad entrance of the valley. Then, sud-
denly it was morning. I saw the golden color of sunrise in
the sky and the women cooking breakfast.
That day I went with Yellow Bird on a hunt for Rocky
Mountain sheep. Our camp needed meat; and, in the fall,
mountain mutton was the most delicious of all the game
animals. We rode along an old Indian trail, westward
through the valley, where the golden brown of ripened
ii2 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
grasses covered the meadows; and came to a dark forest
where the ground was fragrant with pine needles. We followed
the shores of a chain of lakes, to a place where high mountains
came close together on both sides of the valley. Yellow Bird
was leading with rifle across his saddle. Finally he turned
and signed with his hands, "Sheep on that mountain." High
up, above timber-line, I saw a band of brownish gray animals
with white rump patches. They were feeding on a grassy
slope which extended to slide rock, near the summit of the
mountain. I counted sixteen sheep — ewes and small rams.
Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, they took alarm and
ran swiftly along the mountain side. Then a big grizzly
appeared against the sky-line, coming across the shoulder
of the mountain. He, too, was stalking the sheep. He ran
with head up, and I could see his long silvery hair rolling
in waves.
Yellow Bird was excited and eager for a shot. So we
tied our horses and made ready to climb, leaving our coats
and everything we could spare. After a drink of cold water
at a stream, we started with our rifles and cartridge belts,
taking our course along the mountain side, so that the griz-
zly might not get our scent. We struggled through tangled
thickets of evergreens, and windfalls where dead trees lay
piled across each other in all directions. The forest seemed
vast and lonely ; everywhere silence, not a breath of air stirred.
We climbed the southern slope in the glare of the midday sun.
I was drenched with sweat and my breath came fast.
Near the edge of the woods at timber-line, we were careful
not to snap a twig or make a branch rustle, expecting any
moment to meet the grizzly. At every sound or movement
in the trees, I felt a sudden thrill and peered through the
forest with senses alert. But we did not meet the bear, to
Yellow Bird's chagrin. He was a reckless fellow, always eager
for a fight and confident of his skill with a rifle.
A
>>\
' <
INDIAN SUMMER 113
We crossed the shale to the sky-meadow, where we saw
the sheep; and to stalk them went towards the summit of
the mountain, that we might approach from above.
Big Horn are the most difficult to approach of all biggame.
They are wary and quick-sighted; the slightest sound startles
them; and they are off like a flash. No animal is their supe-
rior in climbing; even in the most difficult places they never
slip, nor make a misstep.
We hunted up-wind, keeping out of sight, using crags and
boulders for shelter. When we came to a precipitous part of
the mountain, we went slowly and carefully, to keep from
making a false step and breaking our necks. We scrambled
along the narrow ledges and rock-shelves, clinging to cold
buttresses and to scant projections of the cliffs, careful not to
start a loose stone or any crumbling shale.
At last we came to an overhanging crest. We crawled to
the edge and peeped over the cliff. Below, on a narrow ledge,
stood a ewe sheep. She was at the top of a precipice, with a
view of the entire mountain side. By this time the sun was
low in the sky. Now was our only chance for meat; we had to
get down the cliffs, while there was still light to see the way.
Yellow Bird fired and struck the sheep behind the shoulder.
She jumped to a lower shelf, where my bullet finished her.
The carcass fell over the precipice and down the barefaced
cliffs; the hollow reverberations of its fall echoed from the
mountain walls. It struck slide-rock and rolled over and over,
going at terrible speed, until it landed against a big boulder
far down the mountain — our fate if we should slip or make a
false step.
Then we made our way back along the treacherous ledges
and rock- shelves, where nerve and sure-footedness were nec-
essary 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.
1 1 4 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
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;
INDIAN SUMMER 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:
"We call it the Sand Hills, a white alkali country — far
east on the plains. It is surrounded by quicksands that the
living may not enter. The ghost people chase ghost buffalo
and antelope. They have wild berries and other things such
as we like to eat. Old Person once died for a day and a night,
but his spirit returned to his body. He told the watchers he
had been to the Sand Hills, but was not allowed to enter; his
time to die had not yet come. His body was wet with sweat
when his spirit came back; they drove him from the Sand
Hills."
Nitana said: "Ghosts like to stay near forests and rivers.
People who sleep alone in a thick forest are sometimes
bothered by ghosts pulling off their blankets in the night and
hitting them with sticks. But a person may never see the
ghost. If it bothers him too much, he can offer his pipe with
tobacco and pray: 'Ghost, pity me! I am poor and alone.
Take this pipe and smoke. I pray go away and leave me in
peace.' If the ghost will not leave, but keeps on bothering
the person, it sometimes bestows upon him the power to
doctor people."
"Ghosts of dead medicine men are the worst. They are
known as ' the haunting spirits.' It is they who use the ghost
shots, and kill people who go outside the tepee at night.
n6 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
This fate often happens to sick people; they are shot at by-
ghosts; and when they go back to bed, they die in their sleep.
Sometimes a person who goes outside at night, comes back
breathing heavily, as if he were smothering. He tells his
people that he saw something; and then they know that he
was shot at by a ghost. But he can be cured by a medicine
man who has power over ghost shots. This medicine man
finds out the spot where he cannot breathe; and then he
doctors him; he draws out the shot — he may suck it out
with his mouth.
" Sometimes sick people see ghosts. Ghosts keep bothering
them, coming again and again; the ghosts wait for them
until they die, and then take them away. There are ghosts
which scare horses at night, so that their riders fall off. Then
they make a whistling sound and laugh."
After a silence Katoyisa said: "Tell a story about a ghost."
"Take care, the owl may hear you," answered Nitana.
And then she continued: "There was a camp of two tepees in
a lonely place, far off on the prairie. In one of them lived a
couple without children, and in the other a man with his
wife and daughter. No other people were near. One day the
father sent his girl to the other tepee. On the way she saw a
person seated on the ground. She supposed it was their
neighbor and went towards him. He kept his blanket wrapped
closely about him and she could not see his face. When he
did not move, she threw a stone to attract his attention. Still
he did not move or look up, so she went her way to the other
lodge. There she found their neighbor and his wife. She
told them about the stranger and they went forth to look.
But the mysterious person had disappeared. There was no
place to hide; the prairie was level with no trees. The girl was
so frightened she ran back and told her parents. Throughout
the rest of that day they watched, but nobody appeared.
"That same night, when both families were seated around
INDIAN SUMMER 117
the lodge-fire, an owl lighted on one of the poles over their
heads and began to cry: 'Oo-oo-oo-oo.' Then they knew the
ghost had come back to trouble them. They begged it to go
away and leave them in peace. But it stayed on the lodge-
pole and kept crying: 'Oo-oo-oo-oo.' The girl said: 'I
know he is angry, because I threw a stone at him.' So they
filled a pipe with tobacco and offered it to the ghost. If he
smoked he would do them no harm. But the ghost paid no
attention to them. He was still angry, and kept on with his
solemn crying. Then the father gave the pipe to his daughter.
She held the pipe up and prayed: 'Ghost, smoke. I pray you
go away and leave us in peace.' It paid no attention, but
kept on crying. So they held the girl up into the smoke-hole of
the tepee, where she was near the ghost. Again she offered the
pipe. The ghost gave a loud cry and the girl fell over dead."
Then Little Creek told this ghost story about another owl:
"There was a man named Cross Bull who lived over north
among the Blood Indians. He went alone to war. He had
bad luck and started home empty-handed. One evening,
after many days of hard traveling, he came to a river valley
and went into camp in a grove of cottonwood trees. He had
no food; he was tired and hungry. So he built a fire close to
a log and lay down to sleep. In the night he was wakened
by something coming through the underbrush. He had his
back towards it. He dared not turn his head to look. He
thought it might be a ghost. He heard it go into a tree, so he
lay very still; he did not even move. Finally he raised his
head and looked. In the forks of a big tree sat a ghost. A
long white robe covered its bones. Whenever it swung its
legs, the bones rattled. Cross Bull began to pray. He begged
it to go away, saying: 'I am tired and want to rest.'
"But the ghost paid no attention. It stared at him from
hollow eyes; it whistled and rattled its bones. Cross Bull
prayed again:
n8 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"'0 ghost, be kind.
Go away and leave me alone.
I am poor and have bad luck.
I am tired and want to rest.'
"Four times Cross Bull made this prayer. But the ghost
paid no attention; it kept on whistling and swinging its
legs. Then Cross Bull got angry. He took his bow and arrow
and shot at the ghost. He saw an owl fly from the tree, and
heard it cry in a quavering voice: 'You hurt me so badly,
you hurt me so badly.' (Screech owl.)
"Cross Bull was so frightened he ran away in the dark.
The ghost kept following; for whenever he stopped he heard
it crying the same thing, over and over in a quavering voice:
'You hurt me so badly, you hurt me so badly.'
"Cross Bull left the valley. He did not stop running until
he was far out on the plains. Then it was daylight and the
ghost left him. But he kept on running until he reached
the Blood camp. Next night Cross Bull died. And that is
the end of my story-telling."
By this time it was late in the night and my Indian friends
went to bed. I sat alone by the camp-fire. The moon was now
in the west; and the handle of the Great Dipper, that wonder-
ful clock of the north sky, pointed downward to the horizon.
Then I climbed the mountain side in the bright moonlight,
to look out over the forests and the great plains stretching
eastward. On the other side of the valley were mountains,
with shining glaciers and snowfields. The aurora formed an
arch of light across the north sky; streamers mounting to the
zenith in yellow and yellowish red, and sometimes greenish
white. They swayed backward and forward, now strong, now
faint, until they faded and a luminous veil covered the sky,
through which a bright star shone. There was no wind; and
everywhere an impressive stillness, broken only by the river
in the valley, and the solemn notes of the owl, "a haunting
spirit."
CHAPTER XV
A FRONTIER DANCE »
Two cowboys came to the ranch of the scout with a herd of
cattle; one a half-breed, the other a white man, sinewy, tall
and straight. He was a typical cowboy who had lived a life
of adventure and hardship, rugged and bronzed by the sun.
He wore a broad-brimmed hat, leather chaps, and high-heeled
boots; a knotted scarlet handkerchief round his neck, and a
cartridge belt with a six-shooter hanging from his hips. His
fearless gray eyes looked straight out at me, and he moved
and spoke with an easy, careless air of confidence. He had a
smiling face and talked in a high squeaky voice that some-
times broke.
Yellow Bird told me, with mingled awe and admiration,
that he was a famous bandit named "Slim." The United
States Government had a reward on him dead or alive.
Single-handed he held up a Montana stage, and an express
train on the Northern Pacific Railway. Now he was trying
to get a herd of stolen cattle across the border-line into
Canada; they were "mavericks," or unbranded cattle, taken
out of many herds.
Because of his adventurous life, Slim carried several
bullets in his body. His right arm was so crippled that he
could not lift his hand to his mouth. But, in spite of his
wounds, he could still rope cattle and break wild horses; and
was a dead shot with both hands.
I saw him break a vicious bronco to the saddle. He
went into our high round horse corral, with smooth and easy
gait, jangling spurs, and dragging his lariat which he coiled
as he went. He lost no time and his movements were quiet
120 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
and catlike. He did not seem to lift his arm or move; suddenly
his noose shot out its full length and settled gracefully over
the neck of the bronco. It bawled with rage and fear; threw
down its head and sprang high into the air. It walked about
on its hind legs, striking with forefeet and threw itself over
backwards. But Slim finally mastered and tied it to the
snubbing post. When he had finished his job, he could ride
it without bucking, and led it about with a rope.
From the first I took a liking to this brave and hardy
bandit, with smiling face and winning way and nerves of steel.
He had a pleasant and easy-going disposition, with a broad
and genial tolerance. He did not look down upon people with
a different code, or hold it against me because my actions
were within the law. To him there was nothing out of the way
in robbing stages and trains and driving stolen cattle. He
did not speak of these things, nor did he boast of them; to
him they needed no apology. He was simple-hearted and
generous — a type that would quietly face death without
flinching, be faithful to friends and chivalrous towards
women. But he would pursue an enemy with bitter and vin-
dictive hatred.
Like all cowboys Slim loved excitement — especially a
dance. That night there was going to be a party down the
river at the Lone Wolf Ranch; and Slim asked me to go along.
Before dark we saddled our horses and rode together. I
did not ask about his life; it was not customary in that
country. But he told me of adventures in former days with
wild animals and hostile Indians; and all the time he spoke his
steel-gray eyes looked straight into mine. He talked simply
and with a careless drawl, not seeming to feel there was
anything unusual or exciting in his tales. But for me they
had a strange charm — the way he told them, with a high
squeaky voice, dry humor, picturesque cowboy language,
and good-natured oaths.
A FRONTIER DANCE 121
With his partner he once roped a big grizzly, which
charged from a thicket and chased them into the open. They
were mounted on agile cow-horses that ran like the wind;
but a fall would have meant death. Slim threw his lariat
round the neck of the bear and his partner roped her hind feet.
The grizzly bellowed with rage and foamed at the mouth.
She tried to charge and floundered on the ropes; she reared
and struck wildly with all fours; but in their grasp she was
helpless. With ropes snubbed to their pommels and horses
pulling in different directions they together stretched her
out; and after a while turned her loose.
The dance at the Lone Wolf Ranch was given by the sisters
Katoyisa and Ninake, and was free to all; every one in that
region, both Indian and white, was welcome. People came
long distances in wagons or on horseback — entire families —
mothers with young babies. A log-shack close to the cabin
was used by the women, and there they left their babies and
young children to sleep on the floor.
The ranch cabin was lighted by lamps and candles; all
three rooms, including the kitchen, were used for dancing.
The front door opened upon the main room, a long apartment
with low ceiling and walls of hewn logs, chinked and plas-
tered, all beautifully whitewashed and clean. The windows
and doors were decorated with green branches and pine
boughs, with the Lone Wolf brand made out of juniper on
the log walls, also the heads and horns of deer, elk, and moun-
tain sheep. The guests were squaw men with Indian wives,
cowboys, and half-breeds. But no men of the older genera-
tion of Indians came; it was not their kind of a dance.
The solitary musician was a half-breed who played on a
wheezy accordion. He had only one tune, a sort of lively jig.
But he played it over and over throughout the night, some-
times slow, sometimes fast.
Slim, Yellow Bird and I took partners and joined in a
122 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
square dance. At first there was little life or spirit; the dancers
were stiff and self-conscious, until Slim took hold. He was a
good mixer and a natural master of ceremonies. He was
looked up to because of his brawn and genial disposition.
He was the life of the party. He went from one room to
another, shouting directions to the dancers; he was the caller-
off and was witty and funny; he wakened up the half-breed
musician and made every dancer "toe the mark."
Around the walls were bashful cowboys who had not the
courage to ask a woman to dance, and breeds of all sorts and
mixtures. It was hard to distinguish between Indians and
whites. Among the spectators were elderly squaws in bright-
colored Indian clothes, grandmothers looking after babies and
children, while their daughters danced and had a good time.
At midnight I helped Katoyisa feed the hungry people.
We had sweet cake — an unusual luxury — cold beef and
bread. The people wanted nourishing food. They always had
a craving for meat, especially beef; it took the place of buffalo
meat and they felt abused if they did not get it.
We made tea in a great washboiler that nearly covered the
stove. The people ate in relays; and we washed dishes in
between. I helped Namo, a young Indian woman who had
charge of the dishes; she was a great talker and good natured.
After supper even the bashful cowboys limbered up;
although some slipped out of sight, because they had not
the courage to dance. But never have I seen a crowd of
dancers with more dash and enthusiasm.
After midnight only those who were experts in the square
dance took the floor. Some had odd steps, like jigs, which
they used at every chance. The dancers had no time to rest
or sit down; and in their joy they stamped so hard the cabin
was filled with dust.
In the early hours of the morning, old women and children
lay asleep on the floors. And outside in the shack, they lay
A FRONTIER DANCE 123
so close, there was no room to step, or turn over without
waking the others.
At the height of the dance some women got excited and I
heard exclamations of fear. They said they had seen a wild
face look in at a window. They thought it was the Mad In-
dian — the murderer who came at night and killed people
in the light. So they covered all the windows with blankets
and shawls; and for a while no one was willing to open the
door, or go out into the night. Perhaps somebody did look
in. At the time I paid but little attention; Indian women
are superstitious and have vivid imaginations. Besides, I
thought the wild tales I heard of a "Mad Indian" might be
a myth. But he was no myth. He turned out to be a real
Indian, an outcast who had committed murder and was on
the warpath — a menace to everybody in that country both
Indian and white, seeking to kill as many people as he could
before he himself had to die. Later I heard his story from
one of the Indian Mounted Police who had captured him
alive.
CHAPTER XVI
HUNTING ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS
When the ducks and geese were flying south, Mad Wolf said
the time had come to cut our winter firewood. So Little
Creek, his son-in-law, and I went together to the mountains.
We started soon after sunrise, with four powerful broncos
harnessed to a timber wagon. Little Creek was a reckless and
fearless driver. He stood on the axle between the front
wheels and balanced himself skillfully, while I followed
riding Kutenai, my saddle horse.
The wild broncos, frightened by the rattling wagon,
galloped across the broad plateau. But it was an open
table-land with an upgrade towards the Rockies, and Little
Creek let them run freely. We passed through the foothills
into a valley; and came finally to the edge of a forest of pine
and spruce on the mountains. There we camped and pitched
our lodge.
In the timber we selected only dead trees, standing and
already seasoned for firewood. We cut them into logs and put
them in piles, to haul later on the wagon. At midday we
rested from our work, on a thick carpet of green moss by a
small brook; we ate our midday meal and were refreshed by
the fragrance of pine and balsam.
I watched a golden eagle soaring near the summit of a
snowy peak; and a flock of white swans with long necks out-
stretched, winging their way across the deep blue of the au-
tumn sky, the sunlight shining on their wings and breasts.
Many flocks of ducks whirred close to the tree tops, in their
level and rapid flight; and^from far away came the honking
of migrating geese.
HUNTING ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS 125
"Geese are wise and can foretell the weather," said Little
Creek. "Now they fly high; and it is a sign of a hard winter.
Other birds and animals have also given warning. The curlew
is not singing; many song birds gathered early into flocks;
prairie larks have disappeared; the skins of otter, mink, and
beaver are heavier than usual; and the jack rabbits are al-
ready turning white."
Next morning I stopped work in the forest to go on a hunt
for mountain goats. I took my saddle horse and followed a
stream through a canyon, into a basin with precipitous
walls. There I left Kutenai and started to climb the moun-
tain on foot. I came to an exquisite alpine meadow above
timber-line, with a carpet of ferns and green grass. Little
mountain chipmunks were gathering seeds from alpine
plants, scampering and chattering in the warm sunlight.
Then a hoary marmot gave a piercing whistle from his
rock tower on a cliff, where he lay watching for enemies.
Other marmots in their feeding grounds along the mountain
side took up the cry and ran for shelter to near-by cliffs and
boulders.
That day was strangely warm for the northern Rockies.
Although late in the autumn, the sky was clear and the wind
blew softly from the south. I ate my lunch of dried meat and
bread beside a mountain torrent that had its source in an
icy cavern and snowdrifts. It crossed the meadow and rushed
tempestuously down a sheer and winding chasm to an un-
broken cliff, where it leaped forth and fell into the valley a
mass of spray, carrying chunks of ice which crashed upon the
rocks far below.
Then I lay behind some gnarled and stunted firs to watch
for game. The surrounding country with its crags and tower-
ing precipices was an ideal home for big horn and white goats.
From my exposed place on the shoulder of the mountain,
I had a far- stretching view — a wide panorama of unnamed
126 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
peaks all towering into the blue, of valleys, emerald lakes,
green forests, and white snowfields.
It was then so late I had given up hope of getting any-
game that day. Suddenly I caught sight of moving objects on
a snowfield at the head of a valley. Through my glasses I saw
a herd of five goats led by a large billy. They were the
whitest things I have ever seen. It was only because of their
jet-black horns that I could see them on the snow. Never
shall I forget my feeling of exhilaration to see those wild
animals in their native haunts, and my eagerness to get one
for a hunter's trophy.
They were coming my way. They were traveling fast and
were headed for a grassy knoll high above me. I waited
until they were out of sight behind a shoulder of the moun-
tain, then left my ambush and climbed with all my might.
I crept along the side of a low ridge, hiding behind clumps of
alpine fir and juniper. With my large 45-70 rifle, rope, and
cartridge-belt, I had a heavy load for climbing. The ascent
was steep and covered with broken rocks. Because of the
high altitude, I was soon winded and felt weak in the knees.
But my only chance for a shot was to reach the knoll first.
When I was close to the spot, I threw myself behind a
patch of juniper — not a moment too soon. Before I could
raise my rifle, the head of a billy appeared over the edge of
the slope. First he took a look around; the others were behind
and not in sight. Then he took a bite of grass and stepped
into view. I raised my rifle very slowly, very carefully, and
threw a cartridge into the barrel. The sound alarmed him,
for he threw up his head. I fired and hit him behind the
shoulder. He bounded into the air. I sent my second shot
into another goat, wounding him. With my third shot, I
killed the first goat; and in the meantime the second billy
had disappeared. Then I saw him going up the mountain
with discouraging agility. I followed and came upon a nanny
HUNTING ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS 127
with two young kids. I walked within a few feet, while they
stood calm and unconcerned. The kids were beautiful little
animals, like woolly toy goats. They stalked back and forth,
wagging their ears and looking at me in a puzzled way.
They were consumed with curiosity and hopped up on a big
rock to get a better view. I wanted to stay and watch them,
but went instead to find the wounded goat.
By blood marks I tracked him up the mountain towards
some precipices. He ran to a series of ledges, made by the
outcroppings of the rock strata. I saw him jump from one
shelf to another, and hit him with a bullet. But, with vitality
like that of a grizzly bear, he kept going. In the excitement
of the chase, I never thought of danger and followed him
along the shelves. He jumped to a lower series of ledges. If he
went farther, I would lose him, so I leaned over the precipice
and fired. The place where the goat stood was so narrow I
thought he would roll over the precipice; but he fell dead in
his tracks.
Then the difficulty was to get to the place where the car-
cass lay. With my rope in one hand and clinging to the
rock wall with the other, I crawled along the tier of ledges.
I could hear the rocky debris from my feet crashing on the
boulders at the foot of the abyss. At last I reached the goat
on the narrow ledge. But I had trouble in skinning. The
carcass weighed two hundred pounds, and in such cramped
quarters it was hard to turn over. With hide partly off, the
goat smell was nauseating. But there was no escape. In
front was a precipice which had a strange fascination, but
I dared not look over. At my back was the rock wall which
had such a slant I could not stand erect. Having unjointed
the head and finished the skinning, I crawled from the carcass
and sat down to rest.
Then, for the first time, I saw that a storm was gathering.
Dark clouds were settling over the mountains. The air was
128 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
sultry; and from the look of the sky a heavy snow was coming.
I must hasten to a place of safety before the storm set in.
With lariat I lashed the head of the goat, with its long
sharp horns, inside the pelt, threw one end of the rope to the
shelf above, climbed up and pulled the bundle after me. The
return trip was more difficult and dangerous; I had not the
excitement of the chase to help. On hands and knees I
crawled along the narrow ledges and climbed from tier to tier.
I came to a buttress which blocked the way. I clung to the
cold wall with my fingers and clutched the scant projections
of the cliffs. It gave me a sickening sensation, when they
crumbled and hurtled into the abyss.
On one of the shelves, I came to a steep pitch in the floor.
I shoved the pack before me, but it began to slide. Quickly
I freed myself from the rope. I lay flat and heard the dull
thud of my pack as it struck far below. I thought all my
labor was in vain; that the head had been ruined by the fall.
But I found it at the foot of the precipice, saved from serious
damage by the thick fur of the pelt. Then I skinned the
other goat; the two heads and pelts in one pack made, with
my rifle, a heavy load.
By the time I reached my horse on the floor of the basin,
snow was beginning to fall. And when I got back to camp,
the timbered mountain slopes were all white. That night we
had the first heavy snow of the season. But in the morning
the clouds lifted and unveiled the cliffs and canyons and
high peaks.
Then I went forth for camera pictures, following the tracks
of birds and animals in the snow. The valley was filled with
winter scenes of wonderful beauty. As the sun rose over the
mountains, icicles and ice draperies pendent from cliffs and
trees glistened like diamonds in its bright rays. The branches
of firs and pines drooped with heavy burdens of snow. The
undergrowth was covered with delicate draperies; boulders
HUNTING ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS 129
and fallen trees had smoothly rounded caps. Brooks were
covered with ice, crystal clear — with here and there snow
arches and arcades and other marvelous ice structures.
Tracks of coyotes and timber wolves crossed and recrossed
the trail. I saw footprints of a snowshoe rabbit; they re-
sembled snowshoe tracks, because of the long fur on its
feet; and the tiny tracks of mice and their tunnels in the
snow; where rabbits had played and a squirrel had left a
cone. There were tracks of willow ptarmigan; of a little
"crying hare"; and the splay footprints of a wolverine, called
"Mountain Devil" by the Indians, because of its meanness
and wonderful cunning.
But our work in the forest was brought to a sudden close
by my narrow escape from death. Little Creek and I were
felling together a large spruce. He was chopping on one side
and I on the other. When the tree began to fall, I saw it
coming my way and jumped for a place of safety. But the
top unexpectedly struck a leaning tree, throwing the butt of
our tree into the air; and then it came rolling down towards
us. It narrowly missed Little Creek. I heard him give a
mighty yell; but there was no escape for me. The trunk of
the tree hurled me to one side, and then the light went out.
When I opened my eyes, Little Creek was bending over
me. I thought my end had come; I could not breathe,
neither could I move. Then my breath slowly returned. I
sat up and tried my limbs; to my surprise I could move them
all. But my clothes were torn and soaked with blood. The
jagged butt of the great tree had struck me as it rushed past,
making a ragged wound six inches long in my side; and that
scar I shall always carry. If I had been a few inches nearer
the tree, I would have been crushed.
CHAPTER XVII
THE BLIZZARD
That fall the good weather lasted until late on the plains.
The days passed clear and calm, as if waiting for a wind to
bring the change.
One morning in November, I left my lodge at Mad Wolf's
home in the valley, to ride after stray horses and cattle. The
day was mild for so late in the year. As I rode northward
along the foot of the mountains, a warm wind came from the
east and clouds gathered over the Rocky Mountain range
from north to south. But overhead the sky was still clear.
At midday I stopped to eat beside a small stream about
twenty miles from the ranch, letting my horse, Kutenai,
graze in a meadow. While stretched on the grass, I saw a
great halo unusually bright, of orange tinged with blue,
appear around the sun; with large sun dogs showing on both
sides; and dull gray clouds, like a leaden roof, spread over
the entire sky. These were bad weather signs. So I saddled
my horse and started for home at a gallop.
The sky in the north became as black as ink, with bands
of mist hanging low. I felt a blast of cold air and drops of
rain, and saw dark clouds coming down from the north.
They had a strange and ominous look, rolling over and over,
spreading out and trailing along the plain and reaching up-
wards toward the zenith.
Then the blizzard came, straight from the north, with
wind and cold and snow. In the blinding storm I lost all
sense of direction. In vain I looked for landmarks — ridges,
coulees, buttes, or streams — something familiar to mark
my course. My heart sank and I felt in a panic. In the
THE BLIZZARD 131
thickness of the storm, everything looked strange. I lost my
way, going eastward toward the open plains instead of south.
Then I recognized a familiar rock pile on a butte; and came
finally to a broad table-land, an exposed plateau, which I
knew was ten miles north of the ranch. It stretched from the
foot of the mountains to the open plains, and south to Mad
Wolf's home in the valley. Across its level surface the wind
had an unbroken sweep from the north.
Through deep snow my horse climbed to the summit of
the plateau. And all the time the wind was blowing a gale
from the north with squalls of hurricane force, bearing sting-
ing sleet and snow in blinding clouds.
By this time Kutenai looked like a snow horse. He was
covered with white hoar-frost from head to foot, having holes
for his eyes and nose. Long icicles hung from his muzzle and
from his sides and matted his tail. He struggled through the
deepening snow, losing courage and going more and more
slowly. He belonged to a mild country across the mountains,
and was a stranger to the plains and blizzards.
Then to save his strength and to warm my chilled hands
and feet, I dismounted and tried leading him. But he acted
strangely, as if blind. He reared and plunged and lay down
in the snow. So I mounted again; with whip and spurs I
forced him to move forward.
Night came on, with the snow above the knees of my
horse. The sky was banked in darkness and the pitiless
snow pelted me fiercely with every blast. People who have
not felt a winter blizzard on the northern plains can never
know what that struggle was.
I had strange sensations, as though I could not breathe;
I felt suffocated, as if smothered by the snow. It blew
down my neck and sifted through my clothes; it filled my
eyes and mouth. A dense white pall was about me. There
was nothing to see — not a patch of grass, nor a stone, only
132 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
a dense whiteness. I thought I was going blind; my head
swam. So I began to shout, just to hear the sound of my own
voice. Suddenly I felt tired and lost hope. I thought how
good it would be to lie down in the snow; it was useless to
fight that blizzard.
I was roused by my horse floundering deep in a snowdrift.
He struggled a moment; then lay still and began to groan.
I struck him with my whip and tried to drag him out by the
reins; I seized him by the neck and pushed him to and fro,
trying to work him loose; I shouted and prodded him with
my spurs.
Roused by my rough treatment, he no longer groaned. He
grunted and tried hard to free himself. And with my help,
he finally struggled from the drift, shook himself, whinnied,
sneezed several times to recover his composure, and was
ready to move on. From that moment he was a different
horse.
At last came a lull in the storm. The wind went down and
the snow ceased. Overhead the moon shone through low-
flying clouds and gave me the right course. During that lull
I crossed the plateau — Justin time; the blizzard came from
the northeast with greater force. But we were safe in the
river valley, protected from the wind by high cutbanks,
groves of big trees and thickets of willows. I knew my way
and came safely back to Mad Wolf's ranch.
Throughout that night the blizzard raged. But my lodge
with its inside fire was a safe refuge. In my warm blankets I
felt a delicious surrender to fatigue; I fell asleep listening to
the roar of the wind, the beating of snow and sleet.
Next day, when I looked out, drifts were piled around the
lodge, with the ground swept clear in spots. Dense clouds of
snow were being driven by the gale and whirled high into
the air; sky and plain were merged in a vast expanse of white-
ness.
THE BLIZZARD 133
During those long days of storm, my Indian father and
his friends passed their time by the lodge-fire, telling legends
and stories of adventure. They gossiped about friends and
neighbors; talked of their daily life — horses and cattle,
hunting, and religious ceremonies.
The women amused themselves by gambling with four
bones, which they threw upon the ground and called by
name. Men used four hiding-sticks of bone, one marked with
a black ring. They had two sides, each with a leader who was
an expert in handling the bones. The side with the bones
drummed with sticks on the lodge-poles; they sang songs
while they played, and made jibes and tried to rattle the
guessers. These gambling songs were sung with spirit and a
marked rhythm, beginning in a low tone and increasing
in volume, until it reached a high pitch; then sank again to a
low pass, alternately rising and falling and gradually died
away. In this way the play went on until one side lost all the
counting-sticks. The players wagered weapons, horses, sad-
dles, sometimes their tepees and everything they possessed.
Children liked to coast on snowdrifts down the steep slopes
of the valley, on a sort of toboggan made of animal ribs
lashed to cross-sticks; or they sat on pieces of rawhide and
held up the front with their hands.
Boys spun wooden tops in the soft snow, driving them over
the surface with whips having lashes of buckskin or bark.
They also played a game on the ice, using smooth stones like
tops. They played in pairs, spinning the stones by whipping
and driving them together. The top which spun the longest
was the winner. They used pebble tops on hard snow, making
them jump while spinning across the holes, by striking them
with their whips.
On a stormy night, I sat with the Mad Wolf family around
a comfortable lodge-fire, listening to the beating of snow and
sleet. It was just the night for ghosts. In the roar of the
134 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
storm, everything sounded strange and mysterious. The
singing of burning wood in our fire was like far-off voices.
The bawling of the frightened cattle and barking of our dogs
seemed faint and far away.
Suddenly a violent squall shook the tepee and the door
blew open. The old woman Gives-to-the-Sun cried out:
"A ghost came in! I felt its cold touch! See the smoke
whirl! And the dogs gave the ghost-bark."
Said Strikes-on-Both-Sides, my Indian sister:
"Of late many ghosts have been around. They do not like
the Sand Hills. They are restless and come back to visit their
old haunts. The night we camped on Two Medicine, the
ghost of our old friend Running Rabbit came from a clump
of trees and frightened our horses. His ghost was so near
we feared he might touch us."
"And why were you afraid of that?" I asked.
" It is sure death to be touched by a ghost," said my Indian
sister. "I remember after Running Rabbit died, his ghost
came back and took his wife to the Spirit World. She and her
daughter were on their way to the home of Bull Calf. The
mother felt a cold touch and turned to look. Suddenly she
fell to the ground and lay as if dead. When her spirit came
back, she said to her daughter: 'Your father came and
touched me. He wants me to go back with him.'
"Soon after that the old woman died; and her relatives
believe that Running Rabbit took her. The ghost of that
old man has been bothering many people who live on Two
Medicine. Strange he should become so mean. He was so
good and kind when alive."
"There are many ghosts in Two Medicine Valley," said
Gives-to-the-Sun. "People talk all the time of seeing them.
Not long ago, Old Person was riding down the river to the
home of Little Plume. The night was dark. When he came
to the grove of cottonwoods, where the body of White Quiver
THE BLIZZARD 135
lies in the branches of a tree, his horse jumped and snorted.
As he rode away, he heard a queer voice from the tree
say:
'"Old Person, why are you so long in coming to the
Spirit World? I am still waiting for you.'
"Soon after that Old Person became ill and died. I heard
of another ghost that bothered the families of Big Wolf and
Buffalo Hide. It kept them awake all night. It came from
the trees and roused the dogs. They gave the ghost-bark;
they growled and sniffed the air. That ghost cried like an
owl and pulled their door open. Next morning they found
the reason. They saw a dead body in a tree close to their
camp. It was the unhappy spirit of a man who was murdered
by his jealous brother."
Then Mad Wolf told of an experience he once had with a
ghost:
"When I was a young man, I went off to sleep alone. I
walked all day and fasted. I wanted to have a dream and
to get power. At night I came to a forest on the mountains
and made a shelter of branches. As I lay alone in the dark,
I thought of many things — of wild animals and of ghosts,
the evil kind, which twist the mouths of people and make
them crooked; they pull their tongues back into their throats
and kill them, and shoot with their finger nails. I lay awake
and heard strange noises — coughing and laughing and
whistling by ghosts. Finally a ghost came near. I begged it
to pity me and offered it my pipe to smoke. Then I fell
asleep; and in my dream that ghost gave me power to doctor
the sick."
Another stormy evening a lively crowd of Indians came
into my lodge and sat around the fire. Two Guns, son of the
head-chief White Calf, with his wife and family were there,
also the family of Mad Wolf. Two Guns and his wife were
136 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
great talkers and fond of repartee. He was in a good humor
that night and said, to make the others laugh:
"I see your lodge has a black top like a stormy sky. It
must be a bad-weather-lodge and the cause of this big storm."
"That cannot be," I replied. "We have often used it when
there were no clouds and the country was dry."
Said Two Guns: "Is it because you come from the smoky-
city that your tepee smokes so badly?" At this joke the
crowd all laughed, and he said: "White Weasel, tell us what
the medicine of your tepee forbids your doing."
I replied: "There are so many things I could not begin to
tell."
At this every one was pleased. They all liked the repartee.
The young wife of Two Guns was preparing her pipe for a
smoke, so I offered her my tobacco bag. Her husband said:
"Look out! White Weasel! If you mix any love-medicine
with that tobacco, I may lose my wife."
I told him it was already too late. He laughed and said:
"If your love-medicine acts that quickly, I shall probably
lose her before we get home."
That night by the lodge-fire, Mad Wolf told us about the
origin of his Winter, or Snow Tepee. He said:
Legend of the Snow Tepee
"There was once an Indian who hunted in winter, far out
on the open plains. He saw a person running on foot from
the north, shooting his arrows, and after him came the
blizzard. After that the Indians knew that Bad-Old-Man
brings the winter; also that Good-Old-Man brings the warm
wind. When the chinook blows in winter, we say : ' Good-Old-
Man is running down from the mountains with the warm wind.'
"Good-Old-Man and Bad-Old-Man keep chasing each
other backwards and forwards throughout the winter. But
in spring Good-Old-Man has the victory.
THE BLIZZARD 137
"The Supernatural Person who makes the winter storms and
blizzards gave us the Snow Tepee. It is not often seen in our
summer camps, because it is a bad- weather-lodge and has power
to bring storms. It came to our people many years ago during
a big storm; in this same moon — the beginning of winter.
"The ducks and geese had gone south; the last of their
flocks had disappeared many days before. It was time for
winter, but the air was still warm. A band of hunters went
on the open plains to hunt buffalo. An Indian named Sacred
Otter and his young son had good luck. After they had killed
many buffalo they started to skin them. They were hard at
work on the carcass of a big bull and had taken off the hide,
when Sacred Otter saw black clouds coming towards them,
spreading out and rolling over and over. He knew it was a
Charge Storm — a terrible blizzard — and there was no time
to get away. So he made a rude shelter with the green hide
and carcass of the bull. They both got inside; the snow
quickly covered them; and in spite of the bitter cold, they
were warm and comfortable under a huge drift.
"Then Sacred Otter fell asleep and dreamed he was travel-
ing on the plains. He came to a large tepee decorated with
strange pictures. The top was yellow, for the color of the
sky at sunset; a cluster of seven green discs was on the north
side to represent the constellation of the Great Bear — the
direction the blizzards come from; at the back a red disc for
the Sun, from the center of which hung a buffalo tail; around
the bottom was a yellow band with green discs, the color
of holes in ice and snowdrifts, and the peaks of the Rocky
Mountains. At the tips of the ear poles were bunches of
crow feathers with small bells, which tinkled in the wind;
and over the door a buffalo head in red, with green eyes —
the ice color.
"While Sacred Otter was looking at these pictures, he
heard a voice say:
138 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"Who is it that stands outside my tepee? Why don't
you come in?'
"He opened the door and saw a large fine-looking man
seated at the back, smoking a pipe of black stone. His hair
was white and he wore a long white robe. The stranger
directed Sacred Otter to a seat near the door and continued
smoking in silence. His face was painted yellow, with a red
line across the mouth and another across the eyes. He had a
black feather in his hair; round his waist an otter-skin with
small bells attached, and on his breast a minkskin. Finally the
stranger spoke, saying:
"I am the Maker-of-Cold- Weather and this is my Snow
Tepee. It is I who send the blizzards, the snow and cold
from the north. For the sake of your young son who was
caught with you in the blizzard, I am going to pity you and
spare your life. I give you my Snow Tepee with its pictures;
also this black stone pipe, and my supernatural power goes
with it. When you get safely back to your camp, make a new
lodge and paint it with pictures like those you see on mine.'
"The Cold Maker taught Sacred Otter the songs and
prayers that went with the ceremony of the Snow Tepee,
which should be used for the healing of the sick. He also
instructed him to place horse tails on both sides of the door
for good luck — to keep his own horses and to get more from
his enemies; and to wear a minkskin as a charm when he went
to war, to keep him from being injured.
"Then Sacred Otter awoke. He saw that the blizzard was
going down and knew the Cold Maker would keep his promise.
As soon as he got back to his camp, he made a model of the
Snow Tepee with its pictures and decorations — just as he
saw it in his dream. And, when spring came, the time the
Indiansmake theirnew lodges, Sacred Ottermadeand painted
the first Snow Tepee. Since that time we have always be-
lieved in its power — to heal those who are ill and to protect
its inmates from sickness and danger."
CHAPTER XVIII
SNOW-BOUND
The scout and his family were snow-bound at the Agency
and could not get back to their ranch. The prairies were im-
passable with deep drifts; high winds blew day after day from
the north. Meanwhile with Yellow Bird I looked after their
live stock, and rounded up the cattle and horses which wan-
dered in the storm.
Then, another terrible blizzard came in the night. The
roar of the wind in the cottonwoods sounded like ocean surf
in a heavy storm. When I awoke in the morning, the light in
the cabin was strangely dim. With a sense of foreboding I
opened the door. A heavy snow was falling, coming straight
down. It covered the fences and lay on a level with the cabin
windows. The great depth of the snow showed on the roofs
of the low-lying sheds and on the rounded banks of the river.
A swift current was running, with an ice gorge against the
foot log, which backed up the water and covered the meadow
with a small lake.
First we opened a path to the sheds, and fed hay to the
cows and calves. Then we dug a log from the snow and sawed
it into blocks for firewood. The air was thick with falling
snow and it was growing colder. So we made ready to hunt
for cattle on the plains where they were exposed to the full
force of the storm.
Yellow Bird rode his big roan horse, I a powerful sorrel.
I wore a beaver-skin cap with the hood pulled down, a
woolen scarf about neck and face, coyote-skin gloves, leather
coat and felt boots; only my eyes were exposed.
14© OLD INDIAN TRAILS
When we were ready, our horses stood all humped up
because of the cold. They were in a bad humor, ready to
make us pay dear for riding them. As I leaped into the
saddle, my horse was off like a flash, running with head down
and back arched; he bucked in a series of high leaps, landing
stiff-legged on all fours. Blinded by the whirling snow, I shut
my eyes and held tight by the grip of my knees. Yellow
Bird's horse followed bucking; but he shouted with delight
and struck him with his quirt after every jump.
We found some cattle huddled together in the deep snow,
and drove them from the open plains to the river valley, to
the shelter of willow thickets. Then, because of the rising
storm, we hurried back to the ranch.
Through that long night, I could not sleep because of the
cold. The terrible chill in the air pierced to the marrow of my
bones. I held my face under the blankets, and hands against
my body to keep them from freezing. I lay listening to the
wind; and towards morning fell into a restless doze.
W 7 hen I awoke, a dull gray light was in the room. The
roar of the wind sounded distant and far away. I waited, but
it grew no lighter. A heavy frost covered the windows, the
knob and latch of the door. The cracks in the window near
my bed were stuffed with hay to keep out the wind; but the
gale drove the fine snow through crevices and made drifts on
the floor.
After sunrise the wind went down; and the temperature
fell to forty degrees below zero Fahrenheit. But the sky was
clear and the sun shone undimmed through the frosty air.
Loud reports like rifle shots came from breaking ice in the
river. The roof of our cabin cracked as though it would burst.
Outside it was hard to move about, because of the deep
snow; but I made my way to a ridge near the pasture. I saw
no tracks, no animals, nor birds; not even wolves nor ravens
had yet ventured forth. Not a tree could be seen, nor the
SNOW-BOUND 141
smallest bush, nothing to break the monotony of that dreary-
wind-swept waste.
Sometimes Yellow Bird and I did not speak for hours at a
stretch; we only talked when we felt like it. On those long
days of storm he was restless and morose. He loved excite-
ment and hated regular work, and the monotony of ranch
life in winter.
Finally the sun rose in a clear sky. The plains were dazzling,
the sky a broad expanse of blue. The clouds rolled away
from the Rockies, revealing the great range from north to
south — a mass of snow and ice. Glaciers on the high peaks
glowed and sparkled in the sunlight. The green forests were
covered with a blanket of white. Tall pines held masses of
snow, which reflected the sun's rays from myriads of small
icicles. The icy covering of the river smoked; and the bare
cottonwoods along its shores were covered with white hoar-
frost.
Then Yellow Bird said that we had better saddle our horses
and drive the cattle back to the ranch; if we did not feed them
hay they would die. We found a big herd by their tracks,
scattered among thickets of willows. We worked fast in the
intense cold, rounding up and heading off. Our horses went
at a gallop along the ice-covered trails; but they were agile
and sure-footed and did not fall.
We drove the cattle from their hiding places, gathering
them together. Then headed them towards the ranch; and,
with shouting and firing of guns, drove them bellowing, their
rough coats covered with white hoar-frost from the vapor of
their steaming hides.
At the ford of the river a swift current overflowed the ice.
The steers in the lead balked; they stood and smelled the ice.
The cattle in the rear crowded forward. They ran along the
shore, bellowing and with clouds of steam rising from their
nostrils. A big steer led the way and the others followed.
i 4 2 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
They broke through the ice and struggled in a mass. Some
were carried down-stream by the swift current and lodged
against an ice-jam; but all got safely across.
Then came an accident to Yellow Bird. At our cabin he
jumped from his horse and landed on the sharp edge of an
axe unturned in the snow. To stop his foot from bleeding, I
used a compress made tight with a stick; I dressed it with an
antiseptic and bandaged the wound. Yellow Bird was now
helpless and took to his bed.
The herd of famished cattle crowded bellowing about
the cabin. I opened the door and saw them pushing and
struggling; mad with hunger, fences could not stop them;
to hold them at the ranch, they must be fed with hay that
night.
When I went outside, the dry snow crackled and made
a grinding sound underfoot. After the violent "low" of the
blizzard, the barometer was now high; the temperature had
fallen to fifty degrees below zero. But the air was dry and the
sky cloudless. On a rude ladder I climbed to the ridge of the
haystack and cleared away the deep covering of snow and ice.
With an axe I chopped the top hay frozen into a mass. Then
cut it into chunks and fed it to the starving cattle. This
heavy work made me sweat freely in spite of the cold. But,
when I loosened my skin cap, hair and eyelashes were quickly
covered with ice; and I had the strange sensation of my eye-
lids freezing so tight I had to pull them apart.
The night was strangely clear. A moon nearly full rose over
the plains, flooding that vast whiteness with its cold light.
I saw clearly the snow-banked cabin and low-lying sheds
and the struggling cattle. The heavens were of a marvelous
purity and depth, with many wondrous stars.
Venus, like a great light in the west, was sinking over the
snow-covered mountains. East was the burning Sirius, in
the constellation of Orion with belt and sword, Gemini with
SNOW-BOUND 143
its twins, Auriga made beautiful by Capella, and Taurus with
the Pleiades and Hyades.
Even after the lapse of so many years, I remember that
winter night as yesterday — the air, the moon, and the
evening star over the shining mountains, like the vision of
another world — the realm of the spirit.
CHAPTER XIX
THE MAD INDIAN
Next morning there was a below-zero temperature inside the
cabin. The stove was as cold as ice; and the kettle, which was
boiling when I went to bed, was frozen solid. I built a fire
and cooked breakfast — bacon, potatoes, and rutabagas.
The wounded Yellow Bird lay gloomily in bed. Then I fed
the cows and calves in the sheds. Many of the chickens were
frozen in their snug house underground. The cats, which
lived in the cattle-sheds, were like savage beasts. When I
drew off my gloves to feed them, a cat sprang at my hand
and fastened its teeth in my thumb. They fought over the
meat and tore it with snarls.
I found our two dogs in a deep hole under the haystack.
One named Red Rover showed his fangs and slunk away.
He was wild and suspicious by nature; his father was a
coyote and while young he ran with a coyote pack. But after
I fed him, he watched for my coming. He was no longer
afraid and became my faithful friend.
Kutenai, my saddle horse, I kept in the cattle-shed. Every
day he liked to play in the corral, trying to escape me by
running, until I swung myself on his bare back and we went
for a swift gallop in the pasture, where the snow had been
trampled by the cattle.
From early morning until night I was busy, feeding the
crippled Yellow Bird and the live stock and chopping wood
for the hungry stove. I cooked three meals a day and washed
the dishes; baked bread and swept the cabin; shoveled snow
and kept the ford at the river open for horses and cattle to
drink.
Every afternoon near sunset, I fed the big cattle herd,
THE MAD INDIAN 145
chopping hay from the frozen stack and carrying it to them
in the pasture. I had narrow escapes on foot from wild steers
trying to kick the hay from my fork; and from cows with
calves — sometimes they drove me on a run to the fence.
I tried to save time in the feeding, by scattering the hay
in long windrows near the stack. But this only gave me
more trouble. When the hungry cattle saw me spreading hay
on the other side of the fence, they began to bellow and paw
the snow. A steer tried to get over the fence, but stuck in the
middle; another followed; and then the entire herd made a
rush through the fence. I had to saddle my horse to drive
them away from the stack.
One cold night, when Yellow Bird and I sat smoking with
our feet against the stove, we heard a strange thumping
against the cabin wall, at the back of the kitchen. Yellow
Bird was afraid and showed it. He had a superstitious dread
of the mysterious, of big storms and of going about in the
dark. I was not superstitious by nature; yet I had a queer
feeling when that mysterious sound began again.
Something struck the cabin and was followed by a rhyth-
mic beating against the outside wall. The weather was cold,
but windless. When the sound died away there was silence.
I got up and peered through the frost-covered window.
Yellow Bird quickly blew out the light. At that moment the
same thought came to both of us — it was the Mad Indian.
He had come to get a shot at us. People were afraid on both
sides of the line, in Alberta and Montana. Ever since the
fall we had been hearing blood-curdling tales. He came
silently in the dark and shot people who stood in the light;
outside he stabbed them with a long knife.
W T e got our rifles and held them ready, standing in the
shadow, away from the glow of the fire, expecting any mo-
ment to hear a shot, to feel the sting of a bullet, or to see a
wild face at the window. But nothing happened and we got
146 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
tired of waiting; we hung blankets over the windows and
went to bed.
Then came another blow that shook the cabin. I sat up to
listen; Yellow Bird made no sound; he did not move in his
bed. After the mysterious beating had died away, I was no
longer afraid; even a mad Indian would not wait so long in
the snow and bitter cold.
So I put on my heavy socks and coat and, taking my rifle,
went cautiously to the door and waited. When the sound
came again, I opened the door and ran to the back of the
cabin. An animal, the size of a large cat, bounded away in
the dark. It went so fast I had no time to shoot. Then, under
the roof and hanging from the outside cabin-wall, I found the
mangled body of a goose, which we had left there forgotten.
Beneath the goose hung a long timber-saw. When the starv-
ing cat jumped at the carcass, it clung with teeth and claws
and struggled, thus moving the big saw, which made the
rhythmical beating.
A mounted policeman, an Indian named Many Guns, came
to our cabin for shelter from the blizzard. He entered with-
out a word and for a while sat silently by the fire. Then he
said abruptly, "I came from the north. I had a bad trip."
We gave him food, and after a smoke he spoke again:
"My horse is worn out and my arm is frozen. Yesterday
I crossed the Hudson Bay Divide; the snow lies in terrible
drifts. My horse broke through the ice in crossing a river.
I nearly froze to death. But some Indians helped me. Out
there they starve; their food is nearly gone."
That night Many Guns, one of the Indian Mounted Police,
told us about his north journey. He said:
Story of the Mad Indian
"In the autumn, I went across the line to hunt Opiowan,
a Blood Indian. He killed many people, both Indian and
THE MAD INDIAN 147
white. He was once a peaceful man who lived with his two
wives. The youngest, Pretty Wolverine, was his favorite.
They were happy until a former lover of the youngest wife
came to their lodge. Then Opiowan was jealous. He warned
the man to stay away.
"One day the husband told his wives he was going away
on a journey. But he did not go far. He hid and watched his
tepee. He saw the lover and his youngest wife go together
into the woods. The husband followed and caught them. He
killed that rival and mutilated him with his knife; but he did
not harm the woman. He told her to go home; and then he
went on his journey. Soon the body of the lover was found
by the North- West Mounted Police; but no one knew the
murderer.
"Then Opiowan came home and lived with his wives as
formerly. But he was afraid and did not want to see any one.
"And what was the cause of his fear?" I asked
"He was afraid of everything," said Many Guns. "At
night he kept seeing the face of the man he killed and could
not sleep. He believed every one was against him ; he trembled
at every sound — the barking of a dog, a running horse. He
was afraid of the police, and whenever he heard the sound of
hoofs near his tepee, he wanted to hide. He thought he was
going mad; he no longer cared to live. Then he made a vow,
that he would kill as many people as he could before he died.
He told his wives he would die fighting like a brave warrior.
"One night he went to the cabin of a white man. He shot
him through the window as he stood in the light. He saw him
fall; he sang his war-song and danced; he painted his face
and started on the warpath; he was ready to die.
"He made his wives take down their tepee and they fled to
the mountains. From a cliff he saw the Mounted Police who
had come to take him. He escaped with both his wives and
they hid in the forest. They went north along the mountains.
148 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Whenever they got hungry, Opiowan took all the food he
wanted from Indian camps. One night he stole into a white
settlement near the foot of the mountains. He shot a white
man and took all the ammunition he could get. The police
followed his trail, but he escaped into the hills.
"By this time it was the end of autumn, and winter came
quickly with cold and deep snow. But Opiowan was always
on the move. He had a way of shooting people through cabin
windows, as they stood in the light. He was like a myth. He
was said to be in many places at the same time, and to travel
miraculous distances.
"But, one night a heavy snow fell in the mountains and
his wives left him. They fled to an Indian camp on the
plains. Then Opiowan was driven from the mountains by
cold and hunger. He came to the tepee of his brother in the
Blood camp. His brother took him in and tried to hide him.
But the Mounted Police trailed the murderer and surrounded
the camp. Then Opiowan the Mad Indian killed himself.
He cut his wrists with an awl and bled to death; and that is
the end of my story."
Not till then was the feeling of dread removed from the
people both Indian and white who lived near the border-line,
on the lonely prairies and in the foothills of the Rocky
Mountains. The tales about him may have been exaggerated
but the story of the Mounted Policeman proved that the
Mad Indian was not a myth.
CHAPTER XX
COMING OF THE CHINOOK
After many days the scout came back alone to his ranch,
and we rode together on the open plains to look for missing
cattle. We found cows and calves dying without food or
drink, and a young steer that had fallen through the ice,
frozen in the river. We hauled it ashore with our lariats and,
after dragging the carcass back to the cabin, skinned and
butchered it; the way Indians used to cut up buffalo. We
took out the tongue, short-ribs, boss-ribs, shoulders and
hams, briskets and belly-pieces. There was no waste; we used
the entrails for eating, saving the hide for tanning, also the
brains and liver; the tissue was used for sinew.
Then another blizzard came with more snow, intense cold,
and a gale from the north. That night as we sat by the stove,
the side of our bodies towards the fire was warm, the other
numb with cold. Whenever we opened the door, the cold air
formed a cloud of steam, which shot along the floor and made
a fall of snow on the threshold. Then the roof began to crack,
and loud reports came from ice in the river. I heard the
booming of a bursting tree, and then of a water-filled hollow.
The scout said:
"Those are signs of more bad weather. My friend Bear
Paw, who lives near the mountains, says it is over forty years
since we had a moon with such bad storms. Before they
came, he saw a mysterious ball of fire hang over the forest.
Bear Paw keeps tribal records on buffalo skins: deaths of
chiefs, cold winters, summers of drought and of plenty."
It was a dreary time when our oil gave out; I could neither
read nor write. There were only six hours of daylight, with
darkness for the remaining eighteen.
150 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Big gray wolves and packs of coyotes driven by hunger
came close to the ranch. One night I heard them feasting
on the carcass of a cow not far from our cabin. Finally they
became so bold we made baits of poisoned meat and placed
them on the hills, dragging the bloody head of the steer be-
hind our horses to lead them to the baits.
I saw sun dogs in the sky, shining dimly, like great crosses
of light near the sun. Then shadows appeared over the
Rocky Mountains, strange "snow banners," or cloud-shaped
drifts in the sky, stretching out from the summits of the high
peaks, waving and shimmering in the rays of the sun — a
sign that a powerful norther was raging over the mountains.
The light dry snowdust, being driven by the wind up the
flanks of the high peaks, was carried over them and into the
sky, each peak having its own snow banner, all pointing the
same way, all gleaming and waving against the blue sky.
That night a nor'wester came roaring over the plains, with
a whirling wind that sought to lift the roof and terrible gusts,
which struck the walls like a battering-ram, until the cabin
swayed and trembled.
The scout sat dejected by the fire. He was filled with
gloom; and when I wakened towards midnight he was still
there, with his head bowed. I heard him pray earnestly and
in a low voice to the Sun :
"Father, have pity and help us.
I am praying for my people.
The Indians starve and are cold.
Break up the clouds and shine upon us.
Take what I say and send the Chinook.
Father, the Sun, have pity and help my people."
At last came a day with signs of better weather. At dawn
the sky was vivid green with clouds of pink and gold; and at
midday water was dripping from the roof and the thick frost
melted from the windows.
Then on Kutenai I went forth to hunt, following the tops
COMING OF THE CHINOOK 151
of the ridges. I saw tracks of a wolf pack, and the large round
footprints of a pair of Rocky Mountain lions, with marks
where their long tails dragged in the snow. But I had no luck.
The traveling was bad; the low places and gullies were choked
with snow, and the plains covered with huge drifts, following
one another like billows of the ocean, with smaller waves on
top. The bright sun was blinding on the white surface snow,
and the air filled with particles of floating ice. My horse's
hoofs rang on the icy crust; sometimes it bore our weight;
at others his feet broke through. One moment his hind quar-
ters were down, at another he seemed to be standing on his
head. Once he slipped on an ice-covered hill and turned
a complete somersault. I flew over his head and landed
safely in a snowdrift. The only game I saw was a bunch of
antelope. But they were feeding on the bare summit of a
ridge with no cover near, and I had no way of stalking them.
After that I turned back because the sun was getting low.
I remember well how the cabin looked that night, after my
trip on the snowy wastes. Our table was covered with a
cloth of bright red; the steam rising from a bountiful supper
of rib-roast; the glow of the firelight over all, and the glisten-
ing of frost-covered windows.
Then the south wind rose and the river was covered with
mist. Misty clouds hung along the horizon, and I saw two
rainbows at a distance from the sun. Banks of heavy clouds
settled low over the Rocky Mountains, with another great
bank higher up. In the west the sky became as black as ink
and the color of indigo at the zenith. The wind went down
and there came a strange stillness.
Suddenly, from out of the west I heard a dull roar, like the
roll of distant thunder. "Listen!" cried the scout. "The
Chinook! At last! Good-Old-Man comes from the moun-
tains to run out over the plains."
I looked towards the Rockies and saw dense clouds of snow
152 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
swept into the air by the force of a mighty wind. It passed
the foothills and came swiftly over the plains, like banks of
driven fog. Then the gale struck us carrying masses of
melting snow, which covered us from head to foot. In a few
minutes the temperature rose forty degrees.
A Chinook wind occurs on the east side of the Rocky
Mountains, whenever a well-developed cyclonic storm passes
over the northern part of the United States. It blows from
the direction of the country occupied by the Chinook Indians.
It is not a wind from the Japanese Current of the Pacific
Ocean, as is commonly believed. It is a "descending wind"
that flows over the Rocky Mountains, following the low
pressure on the eastern side, which draws it down the moun-
tains to the plains. Thus the wind is compressed and has
capacity for holding heat. When the Chinook blows, precipi-
tation ceases, clouds disappear and the air is dry.
That Chinook blew for three days. It went down in the
evening after the sun, but came again in the morning, melt-
ing the snow as if by magic. In a few hours as much snow had
melted as by a gentle thaw of many days.
Our river was a wonderful sight. It became a raging torrent
that whirled and foamed and burst its icy covering. The
huge drifts of snow that filled the valleys and were piled along
the river banks looked yellow and shrunken and lost their
graceful curves. The cowhouse and other sheds were flooded.
In the night the air was filled with strange sounds — the run-
ning and dripping of water, the slipping and sliding of melt-
ing snow and ice.
For days we were storm-bound, because or tne floods and
the force of that mighty wind. Finally the grass-covered
summits of the ridges appeared — the first time in many
weeks. Then we gave cattle and horses their last feed of hay
at the ranch, and drove them forth to pasture on the hills.
CHAPTER XXI
BEGINNING OF SPRING
The end of winter I was camped with my friends Onesta and
Nitana, near the log cabin of Little Creek and his wife
Strikes-on-Both-Sides, my Indian sister. The heavy snow
had melted from the prairie, but drifts still lay under the
summits of high ridges. The air was mild with mists over the
valleys; streams overflowing their banks and with soft ice
running. I saw the first flocks of white geese returning from
the south, also ducks and whistling swans, all pressing north-
ward on warm sunny days when the wind was in the south.
And then the big storm, which Indians say comes every year,
"when horses begin to shed their winter hair." It began in
the night, coming straight from the north. Then veered to all
points of the compass.
During the worst days, we stayed in our lodges and slept.
But I was strangely contented and happy. My mind seemed
to have reverted to the state of a savage. I was alive to
everything and alert. Things about me interested me — the
life and simple pleasures of the Indians, the habits of birds
and wild animals, the flowers and trees.
The cabin of Little Creek had one small room, where he
lived with his wife and children, two dogs, a snowshoe rabbit,
pet hawk, and a black ground squirrel. Strikes-on-Both-
Sides found it on Sun River. She rescued it from a band of
yellow ground squirrels, which were trying to kill it because
it was black.
On stormy nights I liked to sit by my cosy inside fire,
listening to the wind as it rose and fell, whistling through the
lodge-poles and humming against the ropes, the hissing of
154 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
whirling snow and beating of rain and sleet. Sometimes I
felt uplifted by a good and controlling spirit. I wanted to do
something to make people happy that they might have time
to think and dream, and be able to enjoy the world of nature.
And, as I lay on my couch of robes and blankets, looking into
the flames of my small lodge-fire, I dreamed of Indian chiefs
and medicine men before the white race came. There was
something very lofty and noble about these aboriginal
Americans; deep in their natures, they had qualities hidden,
which white men in their literature have ever failed to reach.
After being storm-bound many days, I wakened one morn-
ing to the musical song of a lark sparrow seated overhead, on
top of one of my lodge-poles. The clouds had rolled away
and the sun shone in a sky of deepest blue. It was the begin-
ning of spring.
Then we took down our lodges and traveled southward
along the Rockies, until we came to the valley of Two Medi-
cine River. How good it was to enter that warm and sunny
valley after the bleak and wintry plains; we were protected
from cold winds by high cutbanks, groves of big cotton wood
trees and thickest of poplars and willows.
It was one of those rare days in spring, when all nature
awakes and becomes radiant with beauty. Everything was
new — grass, leaves, and the scent of wild flowers. Some of
the thickets had small green leaves. Buds were bursting on
the cottonwood trees; balsam poplars had young leaves in a
lovely shade of yellow-green; through every opening in the
trees I saw the deep blue sky. Blue violets grew along the
river bank. In the meadows were daisies, yellow violets, and
blue forget-me-nots. The sun was hot, bringing forth the
fragrance of wild flowers, leaves and buds. Butterflies and
bees were abroad. Birds sang in thickets of alder and willows,
in sloughs and water-meadows. All nature was busy and
alive to the joy of living.
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In a suit ot soft-tanned deerskin decorated with colored quills and bordered
with strips of ermine
BEGINNING OF SPRING 155
We made camp in a meadow; and then I went with Little
Creek to explore the valley. On a rocky cliff, surrounded by
sharp pinnacles, the place where an eagle would build its
nest, we found the graves of two women, one a young wife
who died in childbirth, the other killed by a jealous lover.
Their graves were placed on the other side of the valley from
their former home, in the belief that ghosts would not cross
a river to bother the living.
We saw the grave of an aged medicine woman in a big
Cottonwood tree. The body rested on a rude scaffold of poles
among the branches, surrounded with utensils and articles
of clothing for use in the spirit world. In another tree were
the bodies of two Blood women from Canada, who had died
while on a visit to relatives. From the branches hung orna-
ments of beadwork — sacrifices by women who mourned.
On the north side of the valley was a high cliff, over which
Indians of long ago drove herds of buffalo, in the days before
they had horses or firearms. From the top of the precipice a
level plain stretched away to the grass-land of open prairies,
with two ancient and overgrown fences of stones, which had
been used by the Indians as guides in buffalo drives. Near
by were signs of an ancient camp — eight circles of large
stones, deeply imbedded in the soil and overgrown with
grass, where eight skin lodges once stood.
That night we sat by our tiny camp-fire and talked about
those ancient hunters and how they chased the buffalo.
Onesta said:
" In those days of long ago, summer was the time of plenty.
Then our people used flint knives and arrow-points instead
of guns. They had pots of stone, and bone-scrapers for tan-
ning skins. Dogs were their beasts of burden instead of
horses, and people carried things on their backs. They killed
buffalo in great numbers by driving them over cliffs. When
the herds moved in from the grass-land, they followed our
156 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
stone fences; they ran over a cliff and were killed; the
wounded were caught in a corral at the bottom.
"The chief picked a strong runner to lead the buffalo. On
the day of the run, that man rose early and went forth be-
fore sunrise. He covered himself with a robe and wore horns
on his head. He kept moving about until the buffalo herd
saw him and stood looking. Then he led them between the
stone piles; and Indians lying hidden rose up; they waved
their robes and shouted; they stampeded the buffalo, which
ran over the cliff and were killed.
"Then the women came to cut up the carcasses. They used
the skins of old animals for lodges and those of young ones
for robes. They carried the meat on dog travois back to their
tepees, spreading it on poles to dry in the sun; making pem-
mican and mixing it with marrowfat and dried berries, which
they kept in rawhide cases for use in winter."
Thus Onesta talked that night.
We stayed in Two Medicine Valley, until our horses were
through shedding their hair and became fat on the new grass.
Then we broke camp and moved up towards the Rocky
Mountains. It was an Indian custom to go every spring to
the forests on the mountains, to cut new lodge-poles for their
summer camps and to gather roots and wild vegetables for
both eating and healing.
We followed the valley westward, riding through grassy
meadows with gardens of wild flowers. Masses of loco weed
were in bloom, growing in dense spikes of brilliant pink, pur-
ple and blue, clusters of gaillardia with radiant yellow
blossoms, and fields of phacelia, a rich carpet of white and
blue, flaming Indian paint-brush, drooping bluebells, and
shooting stars.
Along the banks of the river were thickets of peach-leaf
willows, fragrant balsam poplars, and Cottonwood trees, with
their cottony tufts of seeds. Lark sparrows were singing,
BEGINNING OF SPRING 157
and willow thrushes with mellow flutelike notes. A little bird
called "black-breast" by the Indians (horned lark) ran along
the ground ahead of our horses. It sang at all times, through
the heat of midday and even at night. On the prairie he would
spring from the grass and soar into the air. Then extending
his wings he would sink slowly to the ground, always against
the wind, hovering like a butterfly and singing his cheerful
rippling song like that of the English linnet.
But the most wonderful of all the birds was the soaring
song of the Missouri skylark. At first I could not see them.
They sang so high in the air, they were like specks in the blue
sky. Their sweet strains came from overhead like a song
from heaven. When several skylarks were singing, the air
was filled with the tender strains. Then, after hovering
awhile, they closed their wings and pitched to the ground to
hide themselves in the long grass.
CHAPTER XXII
OUR CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS
We camped in a broad and sunny valley, with lovely grassy
meadows, groups of firs and tapering spruces; where clear
streams of ice-cold water wound their way through thickets
of alder and willows. Across a lake was a snow-capped peak,
with foaming cataracts falling over timbered cliffs, and a
hanging valley where the slopes of two mountains met in a
massive rock wall.
That evening the fish were rising in the lake. After
picketing my horse, I lost no time in getting out my rod and
fly-book to fish the outlet, where the current was broad and
swift. From a high bank at the mouth I made my first cast.
The water was clear and many fish in sight, darting hither
and thither over a bottom of clean sand and gravel, with
pebbles of many shapes and colors shining in the sunlight.
Soon I had a strike. My line tightened and there came a
holding back, a palpitation of the rod. Then a big tail flashed
in the sunlight and thrashed the surface. It was an open river
with good going along the shore. I gave my fish plenty of line
and held him in the current. Before long I had a four-pound
Dolly Varden flopping on the pebbly shore. I caught several
Dolly Vardens, and then a double catch of brook trout, a
two-pound and a one-pound fish. My largest brook trout
weighed three pounds.
We pitched our lodges near the lake, in a meadow where
wild geranium and blue camas were in bloom. Little Creek
and his wife were in one of the tepees, Onesta and Nitana and
their small daughter Yellow Mink in the other. I slept outside
under a pine tree and on the shore of the lake. Overhead were
the feathery arms of the tree, with clusters of cones at the
OUR CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 159
ends of the branches. The ground was covered with fra-
grant pine needles, piles of cone scales and shells where the
squirrels had been feasting.
From my bed I watched the stars come slowly out above
the dark battlements of the mountains. Overhead the night-
hawks were feeding, pitching about and diving with a rush-
ing sound of their wings. I saw a flock of ducks on the lake
and a solitary beaver swimming in the twilight. After
dark the night wind began to blow, sighing through the
branches of my pine tree. I heard the lapping of water along
the sandy shore, roar of an avalanche, and the distant thun-
der of cataracts wind-borne across the lake.
There is no sweeter chorus than the songs of birds in the
early northern dawn. I heard thrushes and purple finches in
the willows and Western yellow-throats and evening gros-
beaks in groves of quaking aspen. Along the lake-shore the
dominant singers were the white-crowned sparrows with
sweet and uplifted melody.
After sunrise I had a swim luxuriously cold. I dove deep
and gazed through the depths of the clear green water, while
little bubbles floated around my body; then came up into
the sunlight and floated on my back, gazing into a sky of
deepest blue. For a moment I lay still and my body seemed
to leave me; then swam into the lake, cutting through the
clear cold water until I landed on a sandy beach, where the
sun felt hot on my back and I tingled from head to foot.
My Indian friends never burdened themselves with work.
They lay in the sun for hours and did not work until they
felt like it. We cut the straight and slender trees of lodge-pole
pine for tepee poles, peeling off the bark and standing them
in the sun to dry. The women also gathered plants and herbs
in meadow and forest, both for eating and healing; and they
helped me make a botanical collection 1 of my own.
1 Medicinal and Useful Plants of the Blackfoot Indians. See Appendix.
160 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
For vegetables they gathered wild onions, wild potatoes,
cow parsnip, bitterroot and prairie turnip. But the camas
was their favorite vegetable. It had a root like a small
potato and had a sweet flavor. They roasted the stalks of the
cow parsnip, when they were tender and juicy in the spring;
and dried the leaves of bearberry for tobacco, also pipsissewa
or princess pine. They used a lichen that grows on pine trees
as yellow dye, a pore fungus for cleaning buckskin, and yellow
orthocarpus for dyeing skins. For eye inflammation they
used the blossoms of horsemint, the long plumed avens for
coughs, Oregon grape for stomach trouble, and gum plant for
the liver.
One day I went with Little Creek for a hunting trip on the
mountains. He took his rifle and I my camera for pictures.
Little Creek was a good guide. He had the instinct of an
Indian for traveling in the forest and a wonderful memory
for landmarks. He was a fountain of shrewd wisdom and
something of a philosopher.
We crossed a valley to the base of a mountain; then went
slowly up the steep slope, stopping to rest and smoke and
listen to the birds, to see the trees and flowers and look for
signs of game. I heard a Gambel sparrow singing among the
spruces. It closely resembles the white-crowned sparrow and
is related to our Eastern white-throat. But its song has only
three notes which are of different tones, like the sounding of
clear bells. Many squirrels chattered at our approach and
ceased from hiding cones to watch us pass. We raised
some blue grouse, saw signs of wapiti and moose and the splay
footprints of a wolverine, called "Mountain Devil" by the
Indians, because of its meanness and wonderful cunning.
We went through a chain of meadows with masses of wild
flowers of many shades and colors, crimson, yellow, pink and
blue, growing luxuriantly among the tall grasses. A warm
wind swept across their faces, bearing a delicious fragrance
OUR CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 161
that reminded me of the sweet clover fields of our Eastern
States in June.
Deep down in the soft grass were anemones and lady's-
slipper, and along streams masses of pink wild heliotrope,
bluebells, and shooting stars — vivid little red flowers that
held their pointed yellow noses downward towards the
ground. In the woods were tiny twin flowers, golden arnica
growing high above the forest floor, and clematis with lovely
purple blossoms, festooning with its vines the shrubs and
logs and lower branches of trees. The Indian called clematis
" Ghost's Lariat," because it catches people and trips them
up in the dark.
In the forest the largest trees were Engelmann spruce and
Douglas fir, growing in scattered groups, some one hundred
feet in height. But the chief tree was the lodge-pole pine, tall,
slender, and clean-shafted.
Near timber-line many trees were broken, having been
thrown by the southwest wind. The forest became open and
the trees shorter, till we passed from the cover and came to
battered and storm-twisted "limber-pines." Some of them
were centuries old, undersized and imperfect, with trunks
only a foot in diameter and several feet in height; some trailed
on the ground, like serpents and long-bodied animals; others,
in exposed places on the mountain side, looked like tattered
and wind-torn banners, with branches all flung out on one
side of the trunk.
On the high slopes it was still early spring; the flowers
followed close upon retreating snowdrifts. There the grow-
ing season is so brief, the spring and autumn flora bloom
together. High up I saw blossoms in all their vernal freshness,
that had long ago faded on the prairies.
Along the borders of streams and in mossy bogs, the swamp
laurel was in flower, its blossoms rosy pink, also snow butter-
cups and the Western globeflower. Close by a snowbank, I
1 62 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
saw a carpet of yellow snow lilies, a belt of solid gold, false
forget-me-nots and chalice cups of cream-white blossoms and
fluffy gold-green centers.
We followed an old game trail across an upland meadow,
through a carpet of heath and heather with delicate pink
flowers. On the rocks were colored lichens; dainty wind-
flowers bloomed in every sheltered nook. In crevices of
cliffs were maidenhair ferns, and in moist meadows the
fragrant alpine lady fern.
Little Creek was a tireless climber and as sure-footed as a
mountain goat. We crossed snowdrifts, ledges, broken rock
and treacherous shale, climbing along frowning red precipices
where I dared not look down, but kept my eyes on the sky
and rock wall. Finally, we gained the summit and stood at
the edge of a cliff, where the mountain fell abruptly a thou-
sand feet. Far below in the valley lay our miniature camp,
with its white lodges on the lake-shore. Everywhere were
snow-clad peaks and glistening glaciers, rock-strewn ridges
and gorges with rushing streams, forest slopes and valley
lakes of emerald and blue. Far off the green ocean of the
prairie stretched into the eastern horizon and hundreds of
miles beyond.
About us was a wilderness of solitude and silence, not a
sound of bird or beast, only the rushing of the summit wind.
Dark blue was the sky; the air pine-scented, clear and lumi-
nous, uplifting the soul and attuning it to the majesty of our
surroundings.
Pointing to a mountain that overlooked the plains, Little
Creek said: "That is the place where Swift Eagle died."
"How did he come to die there?" I asked.
"He was wounded in a fight with the Flathead Indians,"
replied Little Creek. "He was the leader of a band of
warriors. Early one summer they crossed the mountains after
horses. They came to a Flathead camp in a park, which was
OUR CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 163
surrounded by forest. That night, when they were ready to
make off with the horses of the Flatheads, Swift Eagle came
upon an Indian of the Nez Perce tribe, who was after the
same horses. He was a famous chief named Crazy-Cut-Top-
Knot, but Swift Eagle did not know this.
"The Nez Perce saw the Blackfoot chief and rushed at him
with his war club. They fought hand-to-hand. Swift Eagle
struck the stranger with his knife. But before he died, the
Nez Perce swung his terrible war club and hit Swift Eagle.
"It was night, and the Blackfoot warriors found their
chief lying beside the body of the Nez Perce. They recognized
the war club. It was made from the huge antler of a bull elk
and was different from all others. They knew it belonged to
the famous chief, Crazy-Cut-Top-Knot.
"Then they made a litter of poles and carried Swift Eagle
across the mountains. After they had passed the summit, he
opened his eyes. His warriors told him he would soon be
home. But he said:
"'My children, it is useless to carry me farther. Before I
started on this trip I had a strong dream that I would never
come back alive.'
"He told them to take him to a high cliff on that moun-
tain. He died there and his followers left beside him the
war club of the Nez Perce chief."
After the story we sat awhile on the summit to look out over
the plains, and then descended into a basin, a beautiful
amphitheater with a peaceful little lake, clusters of pines and
a moist green meadow with a sheep-lick. In the meadow
were golden snow lilies, sky-blue forget-me-nots, and the
rose-red monkey flower, growing close to a cold brook that
came leaping down the mountain. At the head of the basin
was a lofty rock wall, with silvery waterfalls and a great gray
glacier, close to the saw-tooth cliffs of the Continental
Divide.
164 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Then we lay silently behind some stunted spruces and
watched the sheep-lick for game. We saw some conies on
the slide-rock, a timid little rabbit-people who live among
the rocks at timber-line. They scampered about, squeaking
and running back and forth with grass and flowers in their
mouths. From a rock-cliff a hoary marmot came waddling
across a barren slope to his feeding grounds on the green turf.
He was gray in color, with short legs and heavy body and a
white band round his nose.
The only sound was the singing of a waterfall at the head of
the lake, and of the brook flowing softly through the grass.
Suddenly a stone came tumbling down, followed by a rattling
of shale; a small ram came into view, making his way leisurely
along the mountain, stopping now and then to take a bite of
grass. The spot where he had chosen to feed was beyond our
range and without cover to approach. But the wind was
favorable. Then Little Creek crawled among the rocks to
get near enough for a shot. Finally I saw him lie flat, and
with elbows resting on the ground, he took aim and fired.
The ram leaped into the air and started up the mountain with
wonderful speed. At several more shots it scarcely seemed to
touch the ground, but bounded along and disappeared among
the high cliffs.
Then we left the basin and followed the gorge of a mountain
torrent, which descended into the valley. We came down
through a series of parks and meadows with many kinds of
grasses, the brightest greens I have ever seen; and an open
forest of alpine firs, with long-pointed crowns and blue-
green leaves and bark so pale and smooth their trunks seemed
carved from stone.
We came upon two black-tail deer, a buck and a doe, and,
as we had the wind in our favor, we approached under cover
of the forest to within one hundred yards. Little Creek rested
his rifle in a forked tree and fired. At the shot the buck
OUR CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 165
stretched out his limbs and bounded away, running in a
zigzag course, then round and round until he fell dead. And,
after cutting up the carcass, we took the meat back to camp.
By our camp-fire my Indian friends talked about a trip
to Canada. Nomads by nature, they loved to wander and
were happier on the move. They liked trips of all kinds, to
hunt and fish and visit friends; but most of all to go among
their northern relatives, the Bloods, North Piegans* and North
Blackfoot.
Said my Indian sister: "We should start right away; the
weather is warm and clear; this is the best time of year to
travel."
"But we cannot get a permit from our Agent," replied
Onesta. "And besides the North- West Mounted Police would
stop us at the Line. I know Indians who tried to cross into
Canada and were stopped. The police turned them back and
they had to come home."
For a moment there was silence; and then I said: "Your
Agent is my friend. From him I have a pass to go whither I
please. You can all come with me and we will make the
north trip together."
Then Onesta was glad and said: "We will take you to our
friends and relatives among the Blood Indians, to the tribe
of the North Piegans and camp of Brings-down-the-Sun.
He is my uncle and I shall ask him to help you. He lives
with his children and grandchildren in a camp on Old Man's
River. He is the wisest of all our medicine men; and knows
more than any one about our legends and worship of the
Sun."
"Let us go at once," I replied. "I want to visit that uncle
of yours."
Then were all happy and like children they showed it.
They wanted to start next morning at the rising of the sun.
CHAPTER XXIII
OUR NORTH EXPEDITION
We brought in our horses at daybreak and were on our way
to Canada soon after sunrise, following an old Indian trail
northward over the prairie; winding along the benches of
round-topped ridges and down their long slopes, through
wide grassy valleys and across streams and blue-gray rivers,
clear and icy cold, always following the best grade like an old
buffalo trail.
The first day we traveled far; we did not stop until evening
shadows were touching the rounded summits of the grass-
covered hills, camping for the night at an old Indian ground
thickly strewn with buffalo bones from former feasts. Broken
tepee poles were scattered about, bare frames of old sweat-
lodges and blackened stones of camp-fires.
On the summit of a high ridge stood a pile of stones, sharp
and clear against the sky of evening, like the solitary figure of
a sentinel, marking the grave of a chief named Red Blanket.
That night Onesta told me to picket my saddle horse close
to camp because of a ghost. He warned me, saying:
"Old Red Blanket, who is buried on yonder hill, was a good
man and kind; but his ghost is mean. It does not like people
to camp here and drives away their horses in the night. That
hill was his favorite haunt when he was alive. For many years
he went there to meditate and dream. When he was dying he
asked his family to place his body there."
We did not heed Onesta's warning and turned our horses
loose to feed in the night. Strangely enough they were all gone
in the morning — driven by the ghost, Onesta said. We had
to walk a long distance to find them.
Our next camp was on the open prairie east of Divide
OUR NORTH EXPEDITION 167
Mountain, a triangular peak of the Rockies, where two great
watersheds meet — the Hudson Bay Divide, a smooth ridge
running east and west, and the Rocky Mountain chain ex-
tending north and south.
That evening our women had time to prepare the meat
for our journey, boiling the boss-ribs in a kettle; the rest was
cut into strips and stretched on poles to dry over a fire.
In the meantime with Little Creek I went to the camp
of a widow named Katoya. The bodies of her husband and
children were on a hill near her home. The lonely old
woman welcomed us to her lodge and was glad to tell about
the past. In our talk with her she said:
"How happy we used to be at this time of year, the begin-
ning of summer, when our hunters came home with plenty of
meat. Then I said to my husband: 'Invite now our friends;
this night we shall have a feast.'
"Then he would ask some of the old people in for a smoke.
Near the time of the first big snow in the autumn, we has-
tened to move away from the mountains and camp on the
prairie. We went down a river, stopping to camp at our
favorite camp-grounds and waiting for buffalo to come near.
We were careful to choose the best place for our long winter
camp. In those days we were happy. There were no white
men and we wandered where we pleased. The buffalo were
plentiful; the antelope of the prairies were fat and made good
eating.
"After my husband killed some buffalo, we brought in the
hides. I tanned the skins, stretching them on the ground to
dry in the sun; I oiled them with the brains and liver and
made them soft by working them. Some of the skins I used
for making clothes, and others for parfleches and berry-bags.
After I had finished tanning our robes for winter, I had noth-
ing to worry about. My husband and children had plenty to
eat; they all slept warm on the coldest nights."
168 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Then we left the old woman and returned to our own camp.
Instead of taking time to pitch our tepees, the women made
an ingenious shelter by stretching a canvas sheet over a wagon
tongue for a ridge pole and fastened it to the ground on both
sides. I made my bed outside, on the grassy bank of a small
stream, where the night wind blew fresh from the moun-
tains, bearing the fragrance of pine forests and flowery
meadows.
That night we sat by our camp-fire and talked about ghosts.
Because of the near-by graves on the hill, the Indians thought
that spirits were near. Onesta said:
"The worst kind of ghosts are the 'haunting spirits.' I
have always been afraid of them. They prowl around at
night and try to harm people. They are unhappy in the
spirit world and envy the living. They are the ones who use
the ghost arrows, which bring sickness and death. Outside
in the dark, they shoot at people. Sometimes they strike
people on the head and make them crazy; they paralyze the
limbs of people and make their faces crooked. Some ghosts
don't like to see people eat in the night, so they punish them
by pulling their mouths crooked; and sometimes they kill
people that are ill.
"I have heard ghosts make a noise at night by striking the
lodge-poles; sometimes they make a queer sound like whis-
tling, overhead in the smoke-hole of the tepee, and some-
times they laugh. But they never come inside if a fire is
burning; and they are always afraid of the smell of burning
hair."
Here Onesta stopped abruptly. Just outside the bright
circle of our firelight, we heard something moving through the
grass. It sounded like an animal walking stealthily. Little
Creek seized his rifle and was ready to shoot. This "thing"
glided slowly along and into a thicket of willows. Onesta
said it sounded like a cougar. But Strikes-on-Both-Sides
OUR NORTH EXPEDITION 169
said it acted like an Indian who came to watch our camp.
Then they all agreed it was a ghost. And next morning,
when we went back to see the widow, Katoya, in her tepee,
she confirmed that belief. For she said:
"Last night I could not sleep. I lay awake thinking of the
happy days of the past. Just before dawn, the ghost of my
dead son came to see me. He has been my protector for many
years and often visits me at night. Last night he was hungry.
After I gave him food, he said: 'Mother, there are strangers
here. Be not afraid; they are good people and will do you
no harm. This night I watched their camp. I saw Little
Creek, Onesta, and White Weasel. They were seated beside
a fire. I went too close and they heard me. Little Creek was
going to shoot. I was afraid this might frighten you, so I
came away. Then I met the ghost of my father coming
down the hill from his grave. He said he was coming to
watch over you because of strangers. But I told him to
go back to his grave and rest in peace. I promised him no
harm would come to you.'"
After that the old woman bowed her head and sat in
silence. So we went away and left her to the companionship
of her ghostly dead.
Then came one of those violent changes in the weather,
which are common on the high plateau country of the north-
west. Dark clouds came down from the north and settled
over prairies and mountains. We broke camp in a hurry, and
got under way before the storm set in. A bank of angry
clouds advanced rapidly over the prairie; from it extended
curving black streaks, moving in waves downwards toward
the earth — the sign of a severe hail storm.
When the temperature fell, we stopped and unhitched our
horses, tying them with long ropes to the wheels, while we
got under the wagons — just in time. The sky became dark
and we heard the distant roar of falling hail. Then the storm
170 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
broke with lightning and thunder, and a deluge of hail that
covered the ground.
Heavy clouds enveloped us all the way to the summit of the
Hudson Bay Divide. But on the other side, the northern
slope, it was a glorious day with the sun shining in a clear
sky. Before us lay a vast expanse of grass-covered prairie,
level to the horizon; west was the main range of the Rocky
Mountains, peak after peak, snow-capped and snow-man-
tled, stretching northward out of sight.
Descending from the divide, we entered a broad and
fertile valley, where our trail led along a shallow stream. At
the head of this valley rose the sharp peak of Chief Mountain,
4000 feet above the surrounding plain, and an altitude of
9056 feet above the sea. It is a lone citadel of rock,
an eastern spur of the Rocky Mountains, a landmark of
the international boundary line between Canada and the
United States. The Indians named it "Chief," because they
could see it so far from the plains. It overlooked the Old
North Trail of the Indians, which ran north and south along
the foot of the Rockies. In those days of long ago, what
sights could have been seen from the precipitous slopes of
Chief Mountain — great herds of buffalo and graceful ante-
lope, deer, wapiti and moose, and bands of primitive red
men moving north and south over the broad plateaus and
along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
We came that night to a broad stream called Green Banks
by the Indians (St. Mary's River), and camped near the
lodge of an old medicine man named Spotted Eagle, a friend
of Mad Wolf, my Indian father.
He had a wrinkled, merry old face, with gray hair which
was separated into braids over his shoulders by bands of
otter-skin. I found him lying on a couch of robes and blankets
fanning himself with the wing of an eagle. The day was
warm and he was naked except for a loin-cloth.
OUR NORTH EXPEDITION 171
When I entered, he gave an odd exclamation of surprise,
intended to be humorous. Then he sat up, and made his
toilet, shaving by pulling the straggling gray hairs from his
wrinkled face with a pair of small tweezers, and combing
his hair with the bristly tail of a porcupine; and all the time
he talked.
He liked to joke and had a reputation as a wit. After each
of his jokes he laughed and winked. At the barking of a
dog or neighing of a horse, he would give a startled cry as if
frightened; and made a grimace. He did this as a joke and
to make me laugh, which I always did to please him. He
loved funny stories, especially of Old Man (Napi), a strange
and mythical character known to many Indian tribes. He
was a sort of creator and teacher, but at the same time a
trickster who played evil pranks. Some of the tales about
him were brutal and obscene. But Indians, both old and
young, always liked the Old Man Stories, because of their
power to entertain and make people laugh. Spotted Eagle
told them to me, as he would tell fairy tales. He enjoyed
them because of his keen sense of humor.
After dark by his lodge-fire, when the air had the chill it
always takes after sunset near the foot of the Rockies, Spotted
Eagle told me the story of
Old Man and the Squirrels
"Old Man was always on the move; he never stayed long
in one place. He could talk with the birds and animals, and
often conversed with them on his travels. One time he came
to a place where some squirrel-people were having a game.
They were running around a fire, squealing and having a
big time, all chasing one squirrel. As soon as that squirrel
was caught, they would bury him in the ashes near a fire
until he squealed; then they threw him out in a hurry. After
that another squirrel ran until he was caught and was buried
172 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
in the ashes. But, as soon as it got hot and he squealed,
they always dug him out.
"Old Man watched them for a while and then said: 'Let
me do that too.'
"The leader of the squirrels replied: 'Come on, elder
brother, we will bury you first.'
"Old Man was careful to squeal as soon as the squirrels
covered him with ashes; and they quickly dug him out.
"Then he said: 'Now younger brothers it is your turn;
since there are so many of you, I shall bury you all at once.'
"So the squirrels lay down together, and Old Man covered
them with hot ashes. But he told a mother squirrel that stood
to one side of the fire: 'Just go away from here, so that there
may be some young squirrels for the future.'
"Soon the ashes got too hot and the squirrels squealed to
be taken out. But Old Man heaped on them all the ashes he
could. He did not pull them out until all the squirrels were
cooked. Then he sat down and ate his fill. There were so
many he could not eat them all. He put the rest on poles and
lay down to sleep, telling his hind-end, which always watched
for him, to waken him if anything came near.
"Old Man was asleep only a little while, when he heard
a noise. He jumped up and looked around; but he saw only
a crow sitting in a tree. This made him angry, and he said.
"'Is it for that bird you make such a noise?'
"He went to sleep again and a lynx came around, but Old
Man slept on. When he woke up at last and looked for the
squirrels, they were all gone. The lynx had eaten them up.
"Then Old Man followed that lynx and found him asleep
after eating all the squirrels. Old Man seized him and shouted:
'I have you now.' He took him by the ears and banged his
nose against a rock and made it flat. He stood him on his
hind legs and stretched out his body and his legs to make
them long. He broke off most of his tail and left only a
OUR NORTH EXPEDITION 173
stump. Then he took some hair and stuck it on his nose for
whiskers, and said:
"'You bob-cats wiM always look like that. You will have
flat faces, long bodies and long legs and a stump of a tail;
and you will be so short-winded you cannot run far.'
"Old Man was so angry with his own hind-end for not
waking him, that he struck it with a fire-stick. And when the
burned place began to hurt, he held it towards the wind to
cool it off and shouted : ' Let the wind blow harder and harder.'
"Then the wind came so hard Old Man was blown away.
He felt himself going and caught hold of anything within
reach; he tore up trees and bushes by the roots. At last he
held to some birch trees, and they did not break.
"After the wind went down, Old Man got up and shouted:
Mean old birches! You spoiled all my fun. I was having
a good time being blown by the wind, until you stopped me.'
"He grabbed the birches and slashed them with his knife;
all up and down the trees he cut, until they were covered
with slashes. 'Now you will always look like that,' he cried.
'And forever, all the birches shall have these same cuts.'
They came from the slashes Old Man made long ago with
his knife."
By this time it was late, and the old medicine man ended
by saying: "Now the dogs are scratching the ground, having
had their evening meal." An Indian way of saying: "My
story-telling is finished.".
CHAPTER XXIV
ONESTA AND HIS SACRED BEAR SPEAR
Onesta was an older man than Little Creek. He was reli-
gious, fond of rituals, inactive and inclined to sit by the fire.
But he had a good mind and liked to lead ceremonies. It
gave him a prominent social position in the tribe. He was a
good story-teller, but only talked when he felt in the mood,
and that did not happen often. He was reserved and adroit
in hiding under an air of candor what he did not want to
discuss; then he had a sort of mask to cover his feelings.
Although he lacked a sense of humor, he was fond of jokes
when he felt in the mood; but he was inclined to be religious
and serious rather than pleasure-loving.
He disliked being questioned, and in all my dealings with
him he never asked me a question and never went directly
to the point. He was moody, as sensitive as a child and easily
offended. I never felt sure of him. To get on with him, it was
necessary to gain his confidence. If I treated him familiarly,
it put him on his guard and hurt his pride. He did not
reason, but acted from impulse. Sometimes he got offended
for no apparent reason. Then no explanation would satisfy.
It was better to take no notice, to joke and be friendly and
make him forget. Then his mood would suddenly change
and he would feel light-hearted and happy. He had a certain
kind of sentiment. He liked to talk over the good times we
had together, and camps where he had been happy with his
friends.
Onesta was the owner of a sacred bundle called the Bear
Spear. On our travels he always kept it near him and at-
tended to it first, whenever we came into camp. By day it
NITANA
ONESTA AND HIS SACRED BEAR SPEAR 175
hung from a tripod in the sunlight; but he always took it
inside the tepee at night. He never exposed it to storm, nor
let it lie on the ground. Once, when he went away from camp,
he asked me to look after the Spear. He said his wife could
not attend to it, because women were not allowed to handle
the Bear Spear.
The day before we came into the country of the Blood
Indians, Onesta and his wife Nitana gave a ceremony over
the sacred Spear. They said it was necessary to do this, be-
fore approaching a strange camp, to protect our party from
danger and to guard against any "bad medicine." They put
on their ceremonial clothes of yellow, the color sacred to the
Spear. Nitana washed their small daughter, Yellow Mink, and
dressed her in yellow. They sang chants together and burned
sweet grass as incense and prayed for a safe and successful
journey. I helped them with their songs, because Onesta
said my voice added power to their prayers.
Then he brought forth a minkskin and had another cere-
mony. He prayed over it and burned dried seeds for incense,
which he got from the tops of the narrow-leaved puccoon.
They painted their faces, and Onesta said to me: "Brother,
you had better let me paint your face too, that the Bloods may
know you have become an Indian; the paint will also so pro-
tect your white skin from the hot sun."
Nitana decorated my moccasins with paint, the way they
did their own; it made them look better, she said.
She was a good-natured woman and easy-going, but liked
to bully her husband. Naturally timid and shy and inclined
to stoutness, she lacked energy. But she had great respect
for my Indian sister Strikes-on-Both-Sides and always fol-
lowed her lead.
That evening by our camp-fire, Onesta was in the mood for
talking. He told us about the origin of his Bear Spear.
176 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Legend of the Bear Spear
"The things I now tell you happened long ago, in the days
when our people used dogs instead of horses to carry their
baggage. One evening, when a band of Indians came into
camp, the chief announced that one of his travois dogs was
lost. No one remembered seeing the dog, so Little Mink,
youngest son of the chief, asked his father to let n%i go back
to look for the missing dog. He said:
"'I am old enough to make the trip alone. I shall go
straight to our old camp-ground.'
"At first the father refused, he thought his son was too
young to make such a long trip alone. But the boy was so
eager, he was allowed to go.
"Little Mink followed the trail back to their last camp-
ground, which was close to the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
First he went to the place where his father's lodge had stood;
he thought the dog might still be there. Then he walked
around the deserted camp-circle, watching the ground for
tracks.
"At last he found a single dog track going towards the
mountains. It led him into a well-worn trail through a rocky
ravine, to a cave whose mouth was hidden by service-berry
and chokecherry bushes. And there he saw the missing tra-
vois, but the dog was gone.
"While Little Mink was looking at the travois and wonder-
ing what had become of their dog, he heard a loud roar; and
a big grizzly bear rushed from the cave. Raising himself on
his hind legs, he seized the boy in his arms and carried him
into the dark cave. When Little Mink's eyes became accus-
tomed to the dark, and he saw the enormous size of the bear
that held him, he fainted. After a while he wakened and
found himself lying on the floor of the cave, so close to the
mouth of the big grizzly he could feel his hot breath. When
ONESTA AND HIS SACRED BEAR SPEAR 177
he tried to move, the bear thrust out his long sharp claws and
held him tight. After that the boy lay very still; he scarcely
even moved, but gazed straight ahead. At last the bear
said:
"'My son, be not afraid, for I shall do you no harm. I am
the chief of the bears and my power is very great. It was my
power that brought you to this cave. If you are willing to
remain here with me while the snows are deep, I will help you.
Before you leave my den in the spring, I will bestow my
power upon you. You will become a great chief and can help
your people.'
"Then the grizzly stood upon his hind legs; he was so big
his head almost touched the roof. First he walked round and
round; and showed the boy a pile of green branches with
different kinds of berries. He said:
"'You will have plenty of berries for food. The bear eats
them branches and all, but you can pick off the berries.'
"After that the bear took him to the other side of the cave
and showed him a pile of buffalo chips. He changed these into
pemmican through his supernatural power, dancing around
the cave and holding them in his paws.
"All that winter Little Mink stayed in the cave with the
bear, acting just as he did. His eyes became so accustomed
to the dark, he could see as well as the bear himself. While
the snow was deep, the bear lay on one side, he did not even
move. But, when the warm winds of spring began to blow,
he began to get restless and move about. One day the bear
rolled over on his back and lay for a long time with his legs in
the air. He sat up and began to yawn. Then he rose to his
feet and walked round and round the cave, and finally
stopped to look outside.
"He said that spring had come and it was time to leave the
cave. He took the boy to the door and told him to look out.
A warm wind was blowing and the snow was melting from
178 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
the hills. But, before they left the den, the grizzly bestowed
some of his supernatural power upon Little Mink.
"He took a stick and raised himself on his hind legs, hold-
ing out his arms and extending his long claws. He tossed up
his huge head and snorted and rolled back his lips; he showed
his sharp teeth and chanted:
" ' Behold my nose with its keen scent,
My claws and teeth, they are my weapons.
Everything that lives fears the grizzly bear.'
And then the bear said to Little Mink:
"'When you get back to your tribe, make a Bear Spear.
Take a sharp stone and fasten it to a long shaft. Fasten
bear's teeth to the handle, also the nose of a bear, because
the nose and teeth should go together. Cover the staff with
bearskin and decorate it with red paint. Tie grizzly claws to
the handle; they will rattle and sound like a grizzly does
when he runs. Whenever you go to war, wear the claw of a
grizzly bear fastened in your hair; and my power will go with
you. Make a nose like a grizzly bear when you charge in
battle; and your enemies will run, because everything that
lives fears the power of a grizzly bear.'
"The bear taught Little Mink how to heal the sick. He
showed him the ceremony to use; how to paint his face and
body and the marks to use for the 'bear face.' He told him
that the Spear was sacred and should be used only on im-
portant occasions. If any one were ill, a relative could make
a vow to the Bear Spear. After that the ceremony should be
given, and the sick would be restored.
"Then Little Mink left the grizzly and returned to his
father's camp. The chief was proud of his son. He gave a
big feast and invited the head men to meet him. After they
had feasted and smoked, Little Mink told them how he
spent the winter in the den of the chief of the grizzly bears
and showed his Bear Spear."
CHAPTER XXV
CAMP OF THE BLOOD INDIANS
After fording the St. Mary's River, we crossed the inter-
national line into the Province of Alberta, a country of
rolling prairies with black soil and luxuriant grass, stretching
away in gentle slopes to the horizon.
We saw many "fairy rings," both large and small, made by
a species of fungus. Onesta believed they were overgrown
trails made years before by buffalo going in circles. But Little
Creek who was more practical said they were the remains of
old buffalo wallows. They are identical with the mushroom
growths common in the fields of our Eastern States, where
they are popularly known as " fairy rings" or " fairy dances."
On the journey, our Indian women were always on the
lookout for herbs and plants. They gathered them wherever
we went and dried them in the sun or by the camp-fire at
night. Some were used for seasoning meats and stews, others
for hair tonic, sore throat and pain in the stomach.
We made a special collection for the medicine man, Brings-
Down-the-Sun, whom we were going to visit — certain herbs
he was known to use in doctoring the sick. The women also
kept adding to my botanical collection, 1 showing me rare
plants and telling their Indian names and uses. We made
a collection of the perfumes they used — braids of sweet
grass, dried blossoms of dog fennel and meadow rue, balsam
fir, red cedar, punk from the cottonwood tree, buds from the
balsam poplar, beaver musk and ringbone of a horse.
At last we saw the white lodges of the Bloods in the valley
of Belly River. I rode in advance of our party and was the
first to enter their camp. It was a hot day, and many of the
1 Medicinal and Useful Plants of the Blackfoot Indians. See Appendix.
i8o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
lodges had their doors open and the sides raised for ventilation.
Soon a horseman came to meet me. He wore a headdress of
curving horns and a deerskin suit covered with colored beads
and ermine tails. He addressed me in the sign language,
raising his right hand and moving it to and fro to say: "Who
are you and from whence do you come?"
I signed back: "A friend, I travel with a party of South
Piegans." To express this, I clasped my hands as though
shaking hands; then pointed to the rest of my party and made
the sign for Piegan by closing my right hand, holding it to
the lower part of my right cheek and moving it in a small
circle.
The Blood grunted and nodded that he understood,
looking at me all the while with the steady gaze and keen
observation of an Indian. He took in every detail of myself
and my horse. Meanwhile the rest of our party came up.
After a short parley with the Blood, he led us through the
camp to the lodge of One Spot and his wife Snake Woman,
who were relatives of Little Creek.
They were hospitable and invited us to share their tepee.
But we made camp on the shore of the river, in a place shel-
tered from the wind by groves of poplars and cottonwood
trees. Before we had time to unpack our wagons, some
Blood women came with presents of food, according to the
Indian custom of showing hospitality to visitors. The wife
of One Spot brought dried meat and service berries — the
first of the season for our Indians. So they made an offering
to the Sun, before eating any of the berries. They all waited
while Onesta held a berry toward the Sun with a prayer for
plenty; then planted it in the ground, with another prayer
to the Underground Spirits. Then the women of our party
carried a supply of tobacco and food to the Blood camp, in
return for their gifts.
Just before dark, a band of Cree Indians arrived from the
CAMP OF THE BLOOD INDIANS 181
north and went into camp near us on the bank of the river.
Soon they had their shelters ready for the night and camp-
fires burning. In the meadows many horses were feeding,
watched by young herders who galloped back and forth,
driving them in bands to drink at the river and making
ready for the night. The evening quiet of the prairies was
broken by the barking of many dogs, neighing of horses, and
songs of the herders. I heard the mournful wailing of an aged
woman who stood alone on a hill near our camp. The Cree
Indians brought her the sad news that her only son had died
while on a visit to a distant camp of the North Blackfoot.
That night was sultry and warm. Lying in my blanket-bed
on the ground, I watched the heavy clouds rolling up in the
north and west in lofty thunderheads, giving forth brilliant
flashes of silver lightning over the entire sky and deep rum-
bling peals of thunder. But not a drop of rain fell.
Sometime in the night I was wakened by groans, which
came at regular intervals from a thicket near my bed. I
straightway thought of my saddle horse, Kutenai, being
strangled by his picket rope. Black clouds covered the sky
and the darkness was intense. But I could not lie and hear
those terrible groans. On hands and knees, I groped my way.
When I came near the edge of the thicket, the groaning
ceased. I threw sticks and stones, but nothing moved; there
was not a sound. Careful not to lose my direction in the dark,
I crawled back to bed. No sooner was I comfortably settled
in my blankets, than the groaning began again. After that I
gave up the mystery. And I never did find out whether the
sufferer was a person or some animal.
Next morning we went to the lodge of One Spot. The day
was warm with brilliant sunlight, and the sides of the lodge
were raised from the ground to allow the breeze to sweep
through. First we smoked a pipe together; and then One
Spot told me the following story:
1 82 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Red Head
"A girl once lived in one of our camps who had three
brothers. They went to war against the Crow Indians and
were all killed by a chief named Red Head.
"In the same camp with the girl was a good-looking young
man; he was her lover and wanted to marry her. One day he
said to his sweetheart: 'Let us stay together.' And she an-
swered:
"'I promise to live with you if you kill Red Head, the
Crow chief.'
"Then the young man mourned, for he knew that Red
Head was a warrior of great power. He went off alone and
fasted. He prayed to the animals and birds and was pitied
by wolverines. They gave him their supernatural power with
a sharp elk bone, which the young man carried hidden in his
clothes as a weapon.
"After that he went into the country of the Crow Indians
and looked everywhere for the lodge of Red Head.
"Now it happened that Red Head always camped alone;
he pitched his lodge far away from other people. He lived
with his aged mother; they had no other relatives. But he
kept a flock of pet crows, which sat on top of the lodge-poles
and watched for enemies. For this reason Red Head could
not be killed. His crows warned him of all danger.
"One day when the Crow chief was away on a hunt and his
old mother was alone in the lodge, a good-looking young woman
came to her and said: 'Mother, I want to marry your son.'
" ' My son will not marry,' replied the old woman ; ' his pets
always warn him. But I promise to help you. I am getting
so old he ought to have a wife.' And she kept the young
woman in the lodge.
"That evening, when Red Head came home from the hunt,
his pet crows flew to meet him, and kept saying:
CAMP OF THE BLOOD INDIANS 183
"'Master, look out! Here is a woman with a man's eyes
and a man's legs. Kill him.'
"Then his mother went to meet him and said: 'Listen, my
son! There is a girl here; she has come to marry you. You
need a wife, because I am old and get tired.'
"Red Head went into the lodge and saw that the stranger
was young and good-looking. He seated himself and the girl
came to him; she put her arms round his neck and kissed him;
she gave him presents of dried meat and moccasins, and said:
"'They treated me badly in the Blackfoot camp, so I ran
away. I want to marry you; I will work and take good care of
your tepee.' And all this time the pet crows sat overhead
on the lodge-poles. They warned Red Head over and over,
saying:
" ' Look out, master ! She is cheating you. She has a man's
eyes and a man's legs.'
" But Red Head wanted the woman. He paid no attention
to the warnings of his pets. He liked to have her near and
made her sit beside him. He ate the dried meat she gave him
and wore her moccasins. At last the pet crows got tired sit-
ting on the lodge-poles. They flew away to watch for other
enemies.
"Then Red Head wanted the woman to go with him into
the forest. They sat under a tree and the chief put his head in
her lap. She took the sharp weapon, which she carried hidden
in her clothes, and drove it into his ear. She hammered it
with a stone and killed him; she took his scalp and went
away.
"Then that young warrior came back to the Blackfoot
camp. He told his sweetheart how he killed Red Head and
showed her the scalp. He married the girl and became one of
the head men of the tribe."
CHAPTER XXVI
COUNTRY OF THE NORTH PIEGANS
We stayed several days in the camp of the Bloods, to rest
our tired horses and to visit the family of One Spot. The
Bloods were fine-looking Indians, both men and women.
But they were not popular with other tribes. They were
proud and considered themselves the aristocrats of the plains.
The night before we left their camp we picketed our horses
close and made ready for an early start. In hot summer
weather, early morning is the best time to travel on the plains.
We broke camp before sunrise and followed the shore of the
river, looking for a place to ford. The crossing of a broad,
swift river is always hazardous, because of washouts, hidden
boulders, and stumbling horses. We rode through thickets of
poplars and willows. Under the trees lay the golden light
of early morning, with purple shadows. Light mists floated
along the banks of the river. From the grass and bushes
hung countless gems of sparkling dew. Everything was fresh
and blooming, the buds and leaves, flowers and perfumes.
The fragrant breath of the morning came through thickets,
with odors of balsam poplar and wild flowers. Butterflies
rested on the first wild roses, bees hummed in the air. Fra-
grant primroses were in blossom, wild hollyhocks, purple
fleabane and the large-flowered agoseris.
When we forded the river, I did not hurry my horse, but
let him take his time, holding his head a little upstream, to
avoid the full force of the rushing water, bending my body
to help him in his balance and fixing my eyes on the top of
his head, to keep from getting dizzy in the rapid current.
Out on the open prairie the birds were calling; near and far
the air was filled with their songs. Chestnut-collared long-
COUNTRY OF THE NORTH PIEGANS 185
spurs were climbing high into the blue sky, then fluttering
slowly to the ground, always against the wind, singing their
cheerful rippling song. I heard the calls of ducks and the
choruses of prairie chickens, repeating it over and over, the
strange cries of cranes as they soared high overhead, and the
voices of curlew, killdeer, and Western meadow-larks.
Then we climbed to the summit of a ridge and saw before
us a great table-land, bounded on the north and west by
high hills and distant mountains. It was part in light and
part in shadow, with the golden sun rising over a bank of
clouds in the east and shining on the snowy peaks of the
Rockies in the west — a wide expanse and without any sign
of life.
We took an old Indian trail, which was known to Onesta.
It led us across a plateau and into a hill country, where the
sun shone in a clear sky and the heat was intense. As the day
advanced, the sun beat down with ever-increasing heat.
My thermometer registered ninety-eight degrees in the shade
and a hundred and thirty in the sun.
At mid-day we stopped on the shore of a lake, to let our
horses feed on the rich grass. The women made a shelter
from the sun by spreading canvas over a tripod of poles, with
the sides raised for the wind to blow through.
As we rested under our comfortable shelter, Onesta called
my attention to swallows hovering over our horses to get
hairs for lining their nests, and to grasshoppers flying high
in the air, saying:
"Their wings have no color until they fly into the sun-
light; it makes them red, yellow, and black."
He taught me a song by which he made some sandpipers
dance on the shore of the lake. He clapped his hands and
sang:
"Ik-sis-a-kuyi! Ik-sis-a-kuyi!" (Meat! Meat!)
He showed me a wild rose bush tfrat was covered with the
i86 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
webs of tent caterpillars; and made them dance by beating
time with his hands and singing:
" Ko-me-os-cha ! Ko-me-os-cha ! " (Worms! Worms!)
At first the caterpillars lay perfectly still. But, after he
sang a few moments, they began to wake up and move slowly.
Then they all stood up and waved their heads to and fro,
dancing as long as Onesta continued his song.
When the heat had passed, we harnessed our horses and
moved on, following a trail that led upwards toward the
mountains. While making our way slowly, Onesta and Ni-
tana began chanting a religious song in unison. I rode closer
and joined them in their song.
Then Onesta explained that it was customary to sing on
entering a strange country, as a prayer to the Sun for a safe
journey and for protection against the magical arts of its
people. On this occasion, he said they were also praying for
my success among the North Piegans.
Finally, we gained the summit of a massive ridge of the
prairie, which overlooked the country of the North Piegans
— a broad river valley with green meadows and groves of
Cottonwood trees. On the undulating hillsides herds of
cattle and horses were feeding. And, as far as the eye could
reach, the river rolled eastward from the base of the Rockies,
gleaming in the sunlight like a ribbon of silver.
Nestled among the groves of green trees in the valley, I
saw a number of white Indian tepees, with blue smoke rising
from their tops. North lay the Porcupine Hills covered with
forests of pine; west, the snow peaks of the mountains. Onesta
said the hills were called "Porcupine," because the bristling
trees on their ridges look like the quills on a porcupine's
back.
He pointed to some rocks on the prairie and said: "A big
grizzly once lived in a cave there. Now many kinds of berries
grow around it, from the seeds carried there by that bear."
£
H
COUNTRY OF THE NORTH PIEGANS 187
He showed me a mountain in the main range of the Rockies,
with a great landslide on its eastern slope, and said:
"We call it ' Lodge-Lining-Mountain, ' because it looks like
the inside lining of a lodge. The river that rises there is
named after Old Man; and in the mountains near its source
is Old Man's sliding place and the place where he gambled."
On our way down from the summit, we met some young men
of the North Piegans, who were watching over their tribal
herds of horses and cattle. One of them, the son of Crow
Eagle, a famous chief, rode with us. He was hospitable and
invited us to his camp. But Onesta told him we were going
to visit Brings-Down-the-Sun, the medicine man. Before
the young chief left us, he pointed out the camp we were
seeking, among some big trees on the north side of the river.
Then we crossed a table-land, which rose gradually from
the river, and descended into the valley. On the face of the
hills and in little ravines were clusters of chokecherry bushes,
bearing a fruit like a wild cherry, only larger and better
flavored. I saw a coyote standing motionless in a ravine, but
it was only for a moment; because of his protective coloring,
I quickly lost sight of him.
The river valley, with its fragrant masses of flowers,
thickets, and shady trees, seemed like a Promised Land,
after the heat and dust of the plains. A soft wind blew over
the meadows, bearing odors of wild flowers and ripened
grasses. Wild roses were in bloom, sky-blue forget-me-nots,
purple geraniums, yellow clusters of puccoon and rose-
colored heads of horsemint, called "manekape" (young man)
by the Blackfoot. They used its blossoms for inflammation
of the eyes.
We followed a trail through rich meadows, and thickets
of aspen and willows; and then entered one of those beauti-
ful groves of cottonwood timber, that are sometimes found
along the larger rivers of the prairies. Finally we stopped in an
1 88 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
open meadow densely sheltered by poplars and willows and
canopied by wide-spreading Cottonwood trees. Through the
thick foliage I saw the gleam of white Indian tepees. It was
the camp of Brings-Down-the-Sun, the medicine man, and
the end of our journey. Here he lived surrounded by his
children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
I saw a group of women and children on a high cliff over-
looking the valley. They had been watching our approach,
their figures sharply outlined against the deep blue sky.
Onesta recognized one of the women as Long Hair, favorite
daughter of Brings-Down-the-Sun. Her long black hair was
flying in the wind; she had a baby on her back and a group
of children clinging to her skirts.
Then the venerable figure of the patriarch chieftain came
from one of the lodges. With hand shading his eyes, he
stood under a Cottonwood tree and gazed intently at our
outfit. He recognized his nephew, Onesta, and welcomed us
saying:
"My children, I am glad in my heart that you have come
to visit my camp."
I went closer and saw that he was an old man, with long
gray hair falling in waves over his shoulders. He had high
cheek bones, and clean-cut Indian features. In his face were
deep lines, as though he were burdened with care and respon-
sibility. He wore a bright-colored blanket wrapped closely
around him, a red band across his forehead and encircling
his head. His tall figure was bent with age; but he had a keen
and penetrating gaze, and the dignified bearing of a chief
who was accustomed to command.
He stood a moment without speaking, and then he said:
"You may pitch your lodges close to mine if you wish.
But the best place to camp is in the open meadow. Some-
times heavy winds come, which break the big trees. If you
should be camped underneath in a storm, some of the
COUNTRY OF THE NORTH PIEGANS 189
branches might fall and do you harm. Take your horses to
feed on the hills beyond the valley, where the grass is more
nourishing. You will find a cold spring on the north side of
the meadow with good water to drink."
Thus he spoke and disappeared into his tepee, while we
made ready to camp, choosing a place among the big trees,
near the camp of the old medicine man; and there we un-
loaded our wagons.
Soon the women of the North Piegans, Bird, the wife of
Brings-Down-the-Sun, with her daughter, Long Hair, and
daughters-in-law, came bearing presents. It was always in-
teresting to watch the exchange of presents by the women.
On this occasion, Nitana received an old pot, a bag of dried
beans, a big knife, and a copper kettle. She gave in return
two blankets, two pairs of moccasins, and some mineral paints.
Such articles, which might seem of little value to white men,
were cherished by Indian women.
That evening we had an invitation from Brings-Down-
the-Sun to eat with him in his tepee. So at sunset, in com-
pany with Little Creek and Onesta, I walked along a well-
worn trail that led among the cottonwoods to the camp of the
North Piegans. Near the lodge of the chief, we came upon
a charming picture of a happy and contented Indian family.
A bright fire burned under the big trees, sending a shower
of golden sparks into the air, lighting up the white lodges
with their clusters of tapering poles and shining on the mas-
sive trunks and green foliage of the cottonwoods. Gathered
round the fire were women and girls dressed in bright colors,
busily at work, cooking, making moccasins and clothes;
groups of children were at play — all were merry and light-
hearted.
A baby hammock was stretched between two trees, the
mother rocking it gently and singing a cradle song. But
the approach of a strange white man changed this peaceful
i 9 o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
scene abruptly. A barking dog rushed suddenly out, and a
woman shouted:
"Puks-i-put! Kops-ksisse!" (Come back! Swollen Nose!)
For a moment the merry throng was silent; and then
quickly vanished.
CHAPTER XXVII
CAMP OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN
The chief was waiting inside his lodge. He directed Onesta
to a place on his right, Little Creek and myself to a couch on
his left. It was covered with robes and blankets and had com-
fortable back-rests, which were made of small willow sticks
bound on both ends with rawhide. The tepee was scrupu-
lously neat and clean; a small wood fire burned in the center,
surrounded by a circle of smooth round stones; cooking uten-
sils were near the door; provisions and clothing stored in
painted rawhide cases. At the head of the chief's couch hung
a sacred medicine case with long fringe hanging down; and
from the lodge-poles articles of clothing decorated with
needlework, beads, and colored quills.
For a while we smoked in silence. I listened to the last
songs of the birds and the evening wind in the tree tops.
Then Bird, the wife of the chief, entered the lodge. She was
small and slender. From the smile she gave me and her
kindly expression, I knew she had a good heart. She straight-
way began to work, and soon set before us a meal of service
berries, dried meat, and hot tea. After we had eaten, we
smoked again. Then Onesta said to Brings-Down-the-Sun:
"We have come a long distance with this white man to
see you. Mad Wolf adopted him as his son and gave him the
name of White Weasel; and he is now a member of our
tribe. On our journey we told every one we were taking
White Weasel to visit you. Now I want you to tell him
Indian legends, and our ancient customs and religion. This
white man is our friend; and you are my kinsman; I ask you
to do this."
But the aged chief was strangely cold and silent. For a
i 9 a OLD INDIAN TRAILS
while he sat calmly smoking, gazing into the fire. Finally
he turned toward me, and, looking intently into my face,
said with spirit:
"This man comes from a race that has always cheated and
told us lies. This spring I made a vow to have nothing more
to do with white men. They have taken away our freedom,
our country, and our means of support. Now they try to
take away our religion. They have forbidden us to give our
ceremony that is sacred to the Sun; and for this they give
no reason. The white men have no right to take away our
religion. It was given to us by the Sun and Moon, and as long
as the Sun and Moon are in the sky, I shall continue to wor-
ship them. We struggle to keep up our religion, that our
people may lead good lives and be happy; as they were in
the days of the past before the white men came into our
country.
"This spring the white men shut off my rations. They
refused to let me have food for my children, because I was
making ready to give the Sun Dance. I had to give the cere-
mony to save the life of a child that was dying; its mother
had already made her vow to the Sun. Now my heart is
bitter against all white men; I do not want to make known any
of my knowledge to a white man. But Onesta, you are my
relative, and have made a long journey. This white man can
remain in my camp for a few days to rest; and during that
time we may get to know each other better."
Then a slender, pretty girl, dressed in soft-tanned deerskin,
came into the lodge. She was the youngest daughter of the
chief and was named "Whistling-All-Night," because she
was born in the moon, "when the jack rabbit whistles at
night in calling its mate."
Said Brings-Down-the-Sun to Onesta and Little Creek:
"My family comes every summer to gather wild berries in
this valley; and we are glad to have you come too. Berries
CAMP OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN 193
are plentiful this summer; you had better gather a supply
and dry them for winter, as we are accustomed to do. But I
ask you to be careful of our berry bushes. Do not break the
branches, or injure any of our big trees. I am looking ahead
for the good of my people. I want to preserve the trees and
berry bushes for future generations. I am accustomed to
warn my fellow tribesmen not to be shortsighted like the
Blood Indians. They once had big trees like ours, but they
cut them all down for firewood. Now their country is bare
and they have few berry bushes. I told my people to haul
their firewood from the forests on the mountains. They have
followed my advice, and we still have our big-leaf-trees
(cottonwoods). The trees with long leaves we call spear-leaf-
trees (balsam poplar) ; we have also round-leaf-trees (quaking
aspen), and thickets of brush-sticks (willows). We call the
big trees ' the-old-time-trees,' and the small ones 'young-
people-trees.'"
So they talked until darkness settled over valley and In-
dian camp. I saw the pale light of the rising moon shining on
the tepee walls. And, while I sat watching this venerable
medicine man, I thought: "How strange that he, of a savage
race, an untaught son of the wilderness, should have the
wisdom and foresight of a statesman in trying to husband
their natural resources of big trees and berry bushes; and,
although he had just cause for hating the white race, yet he
treated me with kindness and generosity."
As I was leaving the tepee, I made presents to all his family
— a silk handkerchief of bright colors to Brings-Down-the-
Sun, a blanket to his wife, and a bracelet of shining white
shells to his daughter, Whistling-All-Night.
That night came the first heavy thunder of the season for
the North Piegans. So, next day, it was necessary for
owners of Medicine Pipes to give a ceremony and distribute
tobacco. A messenger came inviting us to a ceremony at the
i 94 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
lodge of Running Antelope. I went with Onesta and Nitana
and some of the members of Brings-Down-the-Sun's family.
When we arrived, the tepee was already crowded with
Indians. But they made room for us because we were stran-
gers. As soon as I entered, I recognized the leader of the cere-
mony. He was Bull Plume, a medicine man who had visited
the camp of my Indian father. When I took my seat in
front of him, he gazed at me in astonishment. He stopped in
the midddle of a song and announced to the assembled
Indians, that I was the adopted son of Chief Mad Wolf
and my name was A-pe-ech-e-ken. He asked me to sit beside
him and help him in the songs. He said my voice would add
power to their prayers. So the singers made room for me and
I joined in their chants.
After a number of songs and prayers, Bull Plume took up
the Medicine Pipe, which lay before him, and carried it out-
of-doors. He held it up towards the Sun and prayed for all
the people who were present; that none of them might be
killed that year by the Thunder.
Then they had a feast of service-berry soup; and some of
the tobacco from the Pipe Bundle was given to every one.
To possess this consecrated tobacco and to smoke it, was
believed to bring a person into the good will of the Thunder.
After the Medicine Pipe Ceremony, the wife of Running
Antelope got Bull Plume to help her with another ceremony
over a sacred headdress. This was necessary because of a
vow she had made in behalf of her son who was so ill they
thought he would die.
That afternoon I went to explore the valley about our
camp. I came upon groups of North Piegan children, like
wild sprites of the woods slyly peeping through the trees,
curious to see the feared white man. At first they fled in ter-
ror, but their fear quickly vanished when I gave them pres-
ents of crackers and sweet chocolate, which they took with-
out thanks and disappeared among the trees and bushes.
CAMP OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN 195
I followed a well-worn trail through the woods, leading past
the lodge of Brings-Down-the-Sun to a pool in the river,
where he took his morning bath. It was a lovely spot — a
still-water where the deep current flowed gently; the grassy
banks were lined with birch and berry bushes, fragrant thick-
ets, and leafy arches overhead. Along the trail were bright
yellow flowers of gaillardia, drooping bluebells, Canada vio-
lets, and scarlet Indian paint-brush.
I saw Long Hair, daughter of the chief, come from the
river with her water pails; and Nitana on the shore bathing
her small daughter, Yellow Mink. A young girl was riding
on a rude raft of poles, which stuck fast in midstream. I re-
frained from going to her assistance, because of the talk it
would cause in the camp. But I took her picture with my
camera. She wore white-shell ear-rings, a long necklace of
blue service berries, and leggings and moccasins decorated
with coloreo! beads. Her deerskin dress was bound at the
waist with a girdle of colored beads; Indian fashion, it had no
sleeves, but was cut into a fringed cape across the shoulders
and hung freely over her bare arms.
In the woods many birds were singing, yellow-throat,
goldfinch, catbird, white-crown sparrow and many varieties
of warblers. I found the spring of cold water which the
chief had recommended. Around it were beds of delicious
red strawberries, wild cherries, and wonderful service-berry
bushes; they reached high above the ground and were cov-
ered with ripe fruit.
In the soft mud of the river bank were the marks of a
family of beavers — large tracks of old beavers and the tiny
footprints of their children. I saw poplars freshly cut by
them, also the stumps of trees they had felled many years
ago. When I told Onesta about them, he said:
"That family of beavers has lived here many years; the
Indians have never disturbed them. Beaver are like people.
196 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Some are restless and keep on the move; they are never sat-
isfied in one place. But this beaver family is content to stay
here, happy in their good home; they have a sandy beach,
mud bottom, and plenty of food."
I came upon some children of the North Piegans, playing
with dolls in an open glade. They had a miniature camp with
little play-tepees, men and women dolls dressed in skin cos-
tumes, with real hair, little belts, and moccasins and leg-
gings to match the clothes. In the center of the camp, which
was in the form of a circle, was a tepee for the head-chief;
it had diminutive back-rests and painted rawhide cases,
little tanning tools, knife sheaths and squirrel-skins for
robes.
The children had a lively game, like our "catcher," in
which all the players tried to get away from one of their
number, at whom they sang derisively:
i
33
*J ^-" -a- * «- -a- -m
• V -0- ^ ^
A • pi Kii - i sd-mitu - yo - Ka - Ke-Kin - ni.
(You are an old skunk with no hair along your mangey backbone)
Boys played a rough game of kicking each other from two
opposing sides, to see which would give way first; and a game
called "playing bear," that was popular while swimming.
They caught one of their number and tossed him into deep
water and scampered away. When he got ashore he ran
after them until he caught another boy, and then they all
joined in tossing him into the water.
The boys also had a curious arrow game, in which they shot
at a stake, trying to hit it, or to come as near as possible. If the
second in turn were doubtful whether he could shoot better
than the first, he went to the stake and danced for power
to win, beating time with his arrow on the stake and sing-
ing: "I am the one who can hit the stake arrow first."
CAMP OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN 197
If the second player made a good shot, the third danced
at the stake to beat him, and so on.
Women had a game of throwing arrows at a target, also a
four-stick gambling game, using marked buffalo bones.
The favorite gambling game with young men was to roll
a small wheel over a smooth stretch of ground. Two players
followed it, trying to throw, so that the wheel would not fall
on their arrows. Their comrades held the stakes and kept
score. Whenever a play was finished one side would shout:
"Give us one point"; or the other side: "We get two points."
If a player gambled away all his possessions, he was said "to
walk the prairie."
Near sunset I left the valley and climbed Lookout Butte,
a high hill where Brings-Down-the-Sun was accustomed to
go to meditate and dream. Its summit was covered with
wiry grass in bunches, and creeping cedar which grew in
great clumps, forming mats with branches growing close to
the ground.
From the top of the butte I had a broad view of the Rocky
Mountains, the pine forests on the Porcupine Hills in the
north, and the surrounding plains for miles. There I waited
for the sun to set.
Soon vapors formed along the river valley and shadows ex-
tended over the plains. The air was so clear it was long after
sunset before darkness fell and the stars came out. In the
valley at the foot of the butte were clusters of white Indian
tepees, nestled among the trees and glowing with firelight.
The night wind from the mountains, blowing softly over the
valley, brought the faint tinkling of horse-bells and the
rhythmic beating of an Indian drum.
As I sat on that solitary hill and felt the deep peace that
comes from close communion with nature, a doubt came into
my mind, whether white men with all their striving, their
wealth, and material success, have attained as high an average
i 9 8 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
of happiness, contentment, and loyalty to community in-
terest, as was attained under the simple and natural life of the
average Indian family before the coming of the white man.
One could look in vain among Indian camps near the foot
of the Rockies and by the streams and rivers of the plains
for the misery and discontent, which involve masses of
people in our great industrial cities.
CHAPTER XXVIII
ONESTA GIVES HIS CROW WATER CEREMONY
Our camp-ground under the cottonwood trees was covered
with a deposit of sand and fine loam, which got into our food,
our blankets and clothes. The Indians noticed me scratching
and had a joke at my expense. Little Creek said to Onesta, so
that I could overhear:
"During the past few days I have been feeling itchy; I
believe we have become lousy from sitting on the blankets of
these North Piegans." Onesta replied without a smile: "I
have had the same trouble, but got rid of mine by bathing in
the river."
I had my own suspicions as to the cause of our discom-
fort, but, after this conversation, I imagined that lice were
crawling in my hair and all over my body. To the joy of the
entire camp, I hastened to the river, where I discovered
sand as the real cause of my affliction.
Onesta told me afterwards that few of the Blackfoot were
troubled with vermin, but it was among the Crees and Gros
Ventres. He said it made him feel uncomfortable to even go
near the Crees.
We had no regular hours for meals. The women cooked
when it was convenient. It was customary for Indians to
have only two meals a day, morning and evening. When we
were on the road, we ate before sunrise and in the evening
after our journey. In a permanent camp the morning meal
might not come until noon; and if the women did not feel in
the mood for cooking, they would omit it entirely. The time
for our evening meal varied from five until nine; sometimes
an entire day went by without any cooking. I adopted the
Indian custom of eating dried meat or pemmican, whenever
200 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
I felt hungry. Meat was their chief article of diet — boiled,
roasted, or dried. They were especially fond of soups and
meat stews.
Their vegetables were generally roasted or baked. They
peeled and split the stalks of wild parsnip, roasting them
over the hot coals to bring out the juice. They baked the
prairie turnip, also camas roots, which they put in a long
hole three feet deep, in layers with grass and leaves between,
and hot stones at the bottom. Then the hole was covered and
a fire kept burning over it for two days and two nights.
The women of our camp were continually at work, gather-
ing wild berries and firewood, cooking, dressing skins, and
making clothes. They had an ingenious way of getting dry
branches for firewood, when they were out of reach on the
big trees, breaking them off with a long pole with a crook at
one end, which they called a "limb-catcher."
In gathering wild berries, a crowd of women and children
generally went together. They struck the bushes with sticks
and caught the berries in blankets, putting them into bags
made from the whole skins of small animals or unborn
calves. On hot days, they worked in the open, seated to-
gether under a large cowskin, which was spread over a tri-
pod of poles as a sun shelter, making clothes, parfleches, and
lodge covers.
The day Onesta gave his Crow Water Ceremony, he asked
me to help him in the singing. He began his drumming be-
fore sunrise to waken the people of the North Piegancamp;
and made our women get up early to prepare the feast,
which they cooked in a large kettle over an outside fire.
Then they pitched a large lodge, which was loaned for the
occasion by Brings-Down-the-Sun. It was decorated with
symbolic pictures; a band of dusty stars and mountain peaks
at the bottom represented the earth; round the center were
four red bands, representing the trails of the Thunder Bird
OXESTA ENTERING THE THUNDER TEPEE WITH HIS SACRED BUNDLES
THE CROW WATER CEREMONY OF ONESTA IN THE THUNDER TEPEE
THE CROW WATER CEREMONY 201
or lightning; the top was black for a cloudy sky at night,
with a cross at the back for the Butterfly, or Bringer-of-
Dreams. They called it the Thunder Tepee.
The Crow Water Ceremony came to the Blackfoot tribe
in recent years from the Crow Indians. It was a society of
both men and women for singing and dancing. It was be-
lieved to have power to make its members wealthy, to ful-
fill their desires, and to cure the sick. The women did most
of the singing, while the men beat drums and helped in the
songs.
When it was time for the ceremony to begin, Onesta carried
his sacred bundles to the Thunder Tepee, beating on his
drum as a signal for the Indians to assemble. Many came
from the near-by camps and from a distance — men, women,
and children. The Crow Water Ceremony was new to the
North Piegans; they were eager to hear the songs and see
the dances.
Onesta as leader sat in the place of honor at the back
of the lodge, surrounded by sacred bundles. His face was
painted yellow and he had a long eagle plume in his hair.
On both sides of him sat men with painted medicine drums
who helped in the ceremony. The women who took part were
seated on his left. They arose from time to time and danced
to the singing and drumming. The leader made motions with
the skin of a bird or animal; and the women dancers imi-
tated him with their hands.
I saw a visiting Indian who came for the ceremony, hold-
ing himself aloof. Instead of entering the tepee with his
family, he sat at a distance, near the edge of the woods. His
mother-in-law had already arrived and it would be a breach
of etiquette for him to go into her presence. If she met him
face-to-face she would feel outraged and he must make her
a fine present.
Brings-Down-the-Sun attended with his family. They all
202 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
sat outside and did not mingle with the crowd. He was a
religious leader and his wife one of the wise women. They had
their position to maintain; and must be careful of their ac-
tions in public, so as not to be criticized.
When the ceremony finally came to an end, Onesta burned
sweet grass on one side of the fire; and the berry soup was
distributed among the people. But before eating, each person
took a berry and held it up with a prayer. Then they all held
their dishes of food over their heads; and, after setting them
down again, began to eat.
Onesta asked me to spend that night in the Thunder Tepee
as it was against the rules of its medicine to leave it unoccu-
pied. He urged me, saying:
' ' If no one sleeps there, trouble is sure to come. But if you
stay in the sacred tepee, you may have a wonderful dream,
like one of our medicine men."
I agreed, and straightway made preparations for the night,
by carrying my blankets inside and gathering a plentiful
supply of firewood.
That evening many people came to see me in the Thunder
Tepee; the Indians of our party and North Piegans, too. They
were a jolly crowd, as light-hearted and happy as children.
After the feast of that day they were in a merry mood, chaff-
ing each other good-naturedly and finding fun in everything
— their old clothes and the holes in their moccasins, the
children and dogs, and their own talk; they laughed and
joked until they were tired.
Then they asked me to sing Indian songs. I agreed, on con-
dition that Running Wolf, the oldest son of the North Piegan
chief, would sing a song for every one of mine. Quickly the
news of our song contest spread through the camp and more
Indians crowded into the Thunder Tepee. But Brings-Down-
the-Sun did not come. He still held himself aloof.
I was the first to sing and chose a night song — one used
THE CROW WATER CEREMONY
203
by young men and their sweethearts, when they rode
together at night.
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In his turn, Running Wolf sang a song of war. He said:
"In the old times our people had a custom. Youths who
wanted to become warriors had to prove their bravery. They
stood naked round a burning pine tree, holding hands and
singing. Two warriors with long poles scraped the burning
bark, making showers of sparks, which fell on the bare skin
of the dancers. Those who had brave hearts kept on dancing
and singing in spite of their burns."
After my dance song, Running Wolf gave a song used in
an old game. He said:
"Long ago our people played a game by going in single file.
They followed a leader who carried two burning brands,
holding each other and singing while he led them, his brands
striking together and throwing off showers of sparks. They
had to keep in line in spite of the sparks."
Then I sang a love song, which interested the women;
they asked for it over and over. I learned it in the camp of
my Indian father, from a young brave whom I heard singing
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to his sweetheart. Strikes-on-Both-Sides recognized the song
and made known the name of the lover to the North Piegan
women. Then the youngest daughter of Brings-Down-the-
Sun came late, and they made me sing the love song again
for her.
Running Wolf sang the song of a maiden who was dis-
appointed in love, with the words:
"My lover looked like an eagle,
When I saw him at a distance.
But, alas! He came near,
And I found he was nothing but a buzzard."
It was after midnight when that merry crowd broke up.
Before Onesta left, he warned me of certain taboos for the
Thunder Tepee — things to be avoided, lest they bring me
bad luck. He said:
"Be careful not to leave the door open, nor to lean a pole
against the tepee; neither should you blow on the fire, or
allow any dogs to come inside; keep the fire burning through-
out the night; don't let it die out. If you should neglect any
of these things, trouble is sure to come."
Running Wolf said with grim humor: "A skunk may visit
you in the early morning. He generally comes here, just
before daybreak. But if you lie still, he is not likely to
bother you."
By this time the evening constellations had swept far into
the west. Already the Great Dipper, that clock of the night-
sky, had its handle pointed downward to the horizon; day
would soon dawn. I built up the fire and lay on my couch,
listening to the sound of the river rapids and the wind in the
tree tops. I thought about my Indian friends and their close
communion with nature, their feeling of brotherhood with
the birds and wild animals of the prairies and mountains. As
I gazed into the dying fire, the pictures on my tepee walls
took weird shapes. I thought of a large eagle that I had seen
THE CROW WATER CEREMONY 205
soaring over the camp. In my dream he came to my lodge;
he stood by my side; he communed with me and gave me a
message to the Indians of the North Piegans.
When I awoke, the bright rays of the sun were shining
through the trees and the open door of my Thunder Tepee.
How glorious are the first rays of the morning sun ! The high
summits of the Rocky Mountains looked like islands in a
sea of fire. The women of our camp were already cooking
breakfast. I saw the blue smoke rising slowly on the still air,
curling gracefully from the tops of our lodges under the cot-
tonwoods.
After I had a swim in the river, Onesta asked me whether
anything had happened in the night. I said, "Yes," and re-
mained silent.
When we were all seated by our fire after breakfast, Onesta
asked me again if I had any dream. I replied:
"Just before daybreak I had a strong dream. An eagle
came and stood by my side, saying:
"'My son, I am chief of all the eagles. I am going to help
you, because you are alone and among strange people. Good
luck will come to you in the camp of the North Piegans, and
to any one who helps you.'"
Then I stopped and looked around the circle of my Indian
friends. I was serious and did not smile; I counted on their
sense of humor and not in vain. They laughed and told my
dream to the North Piegans. Soon it was repeated through-
out all their camps. The people were not fooled, nor did I
expect them to be. Nevertheless, after my night in the
Thunder Tepee, I was in high favor among the North
Piegans, and from that time all went well.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE RIVAL MEDICINE MEN
Human nature is the same the world over. Bull Plume, the
medicine man, was jealous of Brings-Down-the-Sun because
I was in his camp. Bull Plume was of humble descent, am-
bitious for power and social position. On the other hand,
Brings-Down-the-Sun came from a famous line of chiefs —
one of the best families in the tribe. The older medicine
man was revered by all the people for his noble character
and kindness of heart, his wisdom and knowledge of their
ceremonies.
On the day of Onesta's ceremony, I had my first public
recognition from Brings-Down-the-Sun. I was outside the
Thunder Tepee, where I could watch both dancers and
the crowd of spectators. In the midst of the ceremony,
Brings-Down-the-Sun left his family and took a seat by my
side.
This straightway roused the jealousy of Bull Plume, which
he did not try to hide. He was seated next to Onesta and
said so that any one could hear:
"White Weasel has not come to visit my camp. He was
my friend before he came into this part of the country. Now
I know who has turned him against me."
Next morning Bull Plume came to our camp. He was a
fine looking Indian of over six feet, muscular and well-pro-
portioned, with a roman nose and high cheek bones. His
voice was strong and resonant and of a quality well suited
for leading ceremonies. When he talked he had a nervous
habit of tossing his head and throwing back a long lock of hair
which fell over his forehead.
THE RIVAL MEDICINE MEN 207
On this occasion I knew that Bull Plume had something on
his mind. He was morose and ill at ease. We talked for a
while, but soon fell into a gloomy silence. Then he said: '
"My heart is heavy because you are in the camp of an-
other. You were once my friend, but now you do not come
to see me."
I was loth to offend him and began to make excuses. But
he said abruptly:
"I ask you to come to my lodge now. It is not far, on
the other side of the river. I have tribal records to show you.
Some of them are very old; they are picture records made
on buffalo hides, which were handed down from my grand-
father. If you come with me to-day, I will allow you to copy
these old records."
I assured him I wanted to see his records, but again made
excuses for that day, because our horses were feeding on the
hills and there was no way for me to cross the river to his
tepee.
Then Bull Plume was angry. He arose and drawing his
blanket around him, stalked from our camp. That was the
last I ever saw of him. He took down his tepee and left the
country.
As soon as Brings-Down-the-Sun heard of the visit of
Bull Plume, he came to our camp for the first time. He
seated himself by our fire. After smoking awhile in silence,
he said slowly and deliberately:
"If you would rather go to the camp of Bull Plume than
remain here with me, I will not stand in your way."
"But I have no idea of going," I replied. "I would rather
stay with you."
Said Brings-Down-the-Sun: "I would prefer to have you
stay here. Ever since the day Onesta brought you to my
lodge, I have been preparing myself; now I have many things
ready to tell you."
208 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Again I assured him that I wanted to remain in his camp,
saying:
"We made this long journey on purpose to see you; Onesta
told me about you. He said you were the wisest of all the
medicine men; that you could tell more than all the others.
I do not want to go to Bull Plume; I want to learn from
you alone."
Then Brings-Down-the-Sun said with deep feeling:
"For a long time I have borne in silence many things from
Bull Plume; but now it is time for me to speak plainly. He
told you about the tribal records handed down from his
grandfather. He got that information from me. No one
knows who his grandfather was. I can remember him as a
small boy, barefoot and poor; he walked behind the travois
when our tribe moved camp. Not until he became a man did
he gather information for the records of which he boasts.
He lied to you, but you were not deceived."
For a moment Brings-Down-the-Sun was silent. Then
he turned and said earnestly:
"I can read a man's character in his eyes and by the look
I see in his face. I now take you for my son. From this time
forth, I shall be your Indian father in the north; and the
people of my tribe shall be your brothers and sisters. Now I
give myself up to you; and will tell you anything you want to
know. Your relatives who live far away towards the rising
sun, I take as my friends; my heart feels warm towards them;
I shake hands with all of them."
Then he pointed reverently towards the sun, which was
setting over the mountains, and said:
"Behold! Our Father, the Sun. He looks down upon us
here together and hears everything we say. I am going to tell
you many stories and legends, about our religious ceremonies
and ancient customs before the white men came. Before the
Sun, I promise to tell you nothing but the truth."
THE RIVAL MEDICINE MEN 209
After that, the old chief came regularly to our camp. He
had a fine mind and a wonderful memory. He talked day
after day and filled my notebooks with information and
stories — the way they had been handed down from father
to son through many generations of ancestors.
CHAPTER XXX
BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN TELLS ABOUT HIS FATHER
When Brings-Down-the-Sun came to our camp the following
evening, he took a seat by the fire. For a while he meditated,
smoking his everyday pipe in silence, and then he began:
"There is a trail we call 'The Old North Trail.' It runs
along the Rocky Mountains outside the foothills. It is so old
no one knows how long it was used. The horse trail and
travois tracks were worn deep into the ground by many
generations of Indians.
"My father told me that this old trail was started ages-
ago by an Indian tribe coming down from the north; and
other tribes followed in their tracks. I have followed the Old
North Trail so often I know every mountain, stream, and
river of its course. It ran from the Barren Lands in the north
to the south country, where people have dark skins and long
hair over their faces (Mexico)."
By this time it was growing dark and the fire burned low.
No one spoke until the silence was broken by the mournful
howling of a wolf in the near-by hills. Then Brings-Down-
the-Sun continued:
"The wolf is our friend and we do him no harm. The In-
dians have a saying, 'The gun that shoots a wolf or coyote
will never again shoot straight.'
"I never heard of a wolf that did not wander. They raise
their young in one place and then move on to another. They
like to run all over the country.
"My father's first name was Running Wolf. His father,
Little Mountain, gave him that name, because a wolf ap-
peared in a dream and advised him, saying:
"'I am the head-chief of all the wolves and my name is
BRINGS-DOWX-THE-SUN AND THE AUTHOR
THE FATHER OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN 211
Running Wolf. You often hear my voice; my tracks are
everywhere and I shall always continue to wander. Name
one of your sons after me; and if he has a son, let that name
be handed down; all of your descendants who bear my name
will have long life and good luck.'
"I have now the wolf-nature, because my father bestowed
the name of Running Wolf upon me. Like the wolf I wander
over the plains and through the mountains; I never like to
stay long in one place.
"Now I am going to tell you more about my father — how
my grandfather, Little Mountain, happened to honor him
with the name of Running Wolf, although he had two older
brothers.
"One day in early summer, when my father was only a
boy, he saw a band of warriors gather near my grandfather's
lodge; he was then head-chief of the tribe. They were
dressed for war and had their horses painted with war signs.
They stood in a circle, holding a big rawhide between them,
upon which they beat with sticks like a drum and sang a
wolf song. They marched singing through the camp, saying
farewell to friends and relatives; and then started south on a
war expedition.
"Now this was very exciting to my father; his two older
brothers were among the warriors. He wanted to go too. But
he knew they would not take him because he was too young.
"After the expedition had gone, the boy ran into the lodge
and took a bow and arrows. He told his father, the head-
chief, he was going for a hunt; but he rode fast and overtook
the war party. They tried to send him back. But one of his
brothers said:
"'If he is so eager, let him come; he can look after one of
the pack horses.' Thus it happened that my father went
with that war party.
"One night, after they crossed the Yellowstone River,
212 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
the boy was wakened by a noise. He scouted around and
saw a band of hostile Indians coming into camp. They were
some of the Snakes and he gave the alarm. The Bfackfoot
warriors made ready to attack, but waited until just before
dawn.
"In the fight my father made a wonderful shot and killed
a Snake* Indian. It was the only scalp they took on that trip.
When the warriors came back to the Blackfoot camp, they
waited on the summit of a hill, until a big crowd came out
to meet them.
"Then they made known to the people how the boy was
the only one to kill an enemy. They showed the Snake scalp
and the head-chief was proud of his son. He tied that scalp
to a long pole and told the boy to hold it aloft, and to shout
as they rode triumphantly through the camp: 'My name is
Running Wolf; I am the youngest of the war party and the
only one to kill an enemy. Behold! Here is the scalp.' Thus
it happened that my father got the name of Running Wolf.
"When my father was head-chief of the tribe, he went by
the name of Iron Shirt, because he was accustomed to wear a
shirt which was decorated with shining pieces of metal. He
was also head man of the band of Grease Melters. He was a
large and muscular man, with fine mind and a wonderful
memory. He knew all the legends and lore of his tribe. He
could tell the age of a horse by its whinny and of a man by the
sound of his voice. He kept 'winter-counts' by making pic-
tures on buffalo robes. He recorded important events in the
history of the tribe — places of tribal camps, battles and the
names of war chiefs, years of smallpox, summers of drought
and winters when snows were deep and food scarce. He kept
count of the winter when many of our people died from the
cough-sickness, the winter when the children broke through
the ice, when some moose came into our camp, also the winter
when we had to eat dogs to keep from starving, the time a
THE FATHER OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN 213
herd of antelope broke through the ice, when we caught
some antelope in the deep snow, when buffalo were scarce,
and the time we made the first treaty with white men.
"Sixty-one winters have passed since we had our first
great sickness of smallpox (1836); forty-two, since we had the
big camp on the Yellowstone River (1855), the time eight
Indian tribes came together and our head-chiefs were Little
Dog, Big Snake, and Lame Bull; twenty-seven winters since
the coming of the North- West Mounted Police (1870), and
twenty-one since the bad winter, when many of our horses
were frozen to death (1876).
"I was born in the spring, the year the first white men
appeared in our country. And I was still a young boy when
my father became the owner of his first Medicine Pipe. This
happened in one of our tribal camps, which was being held in
mid-summer. Wolf Child was the owner of a Pipe and chose
my father as his successor. He told the medicine pipe men he
wanted them to take my father.
"Now it happened that my father was a 'bear-man' —
that is, his power came from the grizzly bear. He had a
sacred bearskin inside his lodge, which he kept hanging from
the lodge-poles, just over his couch. The word 'bear' must
never be spoken in the presence of a Medicine Pipe; it has
an evil influence. For this reason the medicine pipe men were
always afraid to offer a Pipe to my father, with the sacred
bearskin so near.
"But Wolf Child, the owner of this Pipe, advised there
was no danger from the skin. He said my father had great
power; besides it was possible for them to drive away the
evil by burning sweet pine as incense.
"Thus Wolf Child persuaded his friends and overcame
their fears. It was after midnight, when I heard the medicine
pipe men stealthily enter our lodge. Wolf Child came first,
with the sacred Pipe hidden under his robe. They caught
2i 4 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
my father asleep; and, when he woke up, they offered him
the Pipe. He took it in both hands and they all began to
drum and sing. After that my father smoked the Pipe and
said:
"'I am the owner of many horses, which of them do you
want?'
"Wolf Child answered: 'Your black buffalo-horse.' Now
this was the most valued horse in my father's herds. He was
a famous race horse, the fastest in the tribe; he was so high-
spirited it took three rawhide bridles to hold him.
"But my father did not hesitate. He answered quickly:
' Take him, he is yours.' So Wolf Child got the horse and my
father became the owner of a Medicine Pipe. It was an honor
to be chosen, although the Pipe was a great burden. But my
father could not refuse; no one ever dares to turn down a
Medicine Pipe. I know of an Indian who tried it, because he
did not want to give up a valuable horse. Misfortune came
upon him. His father-in-law died, then the horse; and finally
the man died himself. All because he refused to take over a
Medicine Pipe when it was offered to him."
Origin of his Father's Thunder Pipe
"Once I was camped with my father and grandfather on the
St. Mary's River. We were near the mountains after beaver,
which were plentiful then. One day my father went alone
on a hunt, following the trail of some elk to Chief Mountain.
At timber-line he came upon a band of mountain sheep and
trailed them towards the summit. Near the top of the moun-
tain, he came upon bad-smelling smoke coming from a deep
hole. Into it he rolled a stone. He waited to hear it fall. But
no sound came back; only a cloud of smoke so dense he could
hardly breathe. Then he saw a thunder cloud coming down
the mountain and started to run. There came a crash and
he fell to the ground. A woman stood over him; her face was
THE FATHER OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN 215
painted black and she had red zigzag streaks for lightning
below her eyes. Behind her stood a man with a huge weapon.
My father heard him say:
" ' I told you to kill him quickly, but you stand there and
pity him.'
"He heard the woman chant: 'When it rains, the sound of
the Thunder is my medicine.'
• "Then the man sang and fired his big weapon; it sounded
like the crashing of thunder, and my father saw lightning
coming from the hole in the mountain. Suddenly he found
himself inside a cave; he could not speak, neither could he
raise his head. He heard a voice say:
"'This is the person who threw the stone into our fire-
place.'
"He heard some one beating a drum; and after the fourth
beating, he was able to sit up and look around. He was in
the home of the Thunder. He saw the Thunder Chief in the
form of a huge bird, with his wife and children around him.
They all had drums painted with the claws of the Thunder
Bird, and its beak from which came streaks of lightning.
"Whenever the Thunder Chief smoked his Pipe, he blew
two whiffs towards the sky, then two to the earth; and after
each whiff the thunder crashed. Finally the Thunder Chief
said to my father:
"'I am the Thunder Maker and my name is "Many
Drums." You have seen my great power and can now go in
safety. As soon as you return to your camp, make a Pipe
just like the one you see me smoking. When you hear the
first thunder in the spring, you will know I have come from
my cave. Then it is time for you to take out your Pipe and
hold it up. If you are ever in a bad thunderstorm and feel
afraid, pray to me saying:
"Pity me! Many Drums, for the sake of your youngest
child,' and no harm will come to you.
ai6 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"Thus it happened that my father became the owner of a
Thunder Pipe. When he knew he was going to die, he gave
this Pipe into my care. He said it was a 'long-time-pipe'
and must not be buried with him. I still have the Thunder
Pipe and smoke it only on important occasions.
"My father was skilled in the catching of eagles. He
taught me how to take eagles alive, and for many years the
catching of eagles has helped to support my family. But it
was a hard and dangerous calling. I had to go to a solitary
place near the foot of the mountains and dig a hole in the
ground deep enough for me to stand in. I killed a coyote and
stretched the hide on sticks, laying raw meat along the sides,
to look as if it were freshly killed. I entered the pit before
daylight, in order that no eagle could see; and covered it
over with branches and leaves. The coyote bait lay on top,
just over my head. I stood in that pit all day without food
or drink. I could not even smoke, lest the eagles might get
the scent. Throughout the day I chanted the coyote song,
'I want the eagles to eat my body,' because it had the power
to attract eagles to my bait.
"The Long Tails (magpies) generally came first. They
walked around the meat, chattering and saying to each other
over and over, 'Long Tails go ahead and hang your sack upon
a tree.'
"After a while an eagle would see the magpies eating the
bait and come near. At first he would be suspicious. When
he walked upon the blind and started to eat, I thrust both
hands through the branches and seized him by the legs. I
drew him quickly into the pit and killed him by breaking his
neck with my foot, so that the wings fell to both sides and
the feathers were not injured.
"Golden eagles were the most profitable to catch; the
Indians wanted them because of their white tail feathers with
black tips which they used for headdresses and sacred bun-
THE FATHER OF BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN ai7
dies. Bald eagles were scarce and hard to catch. Some of
them were so powerful they almost dragged me from the pit.
"In those days eagle-catching was a dangerous occupation,
because of grizzly bears. I remember an Indian, who held
fast to his bait when a big grizzly started to drag it away.
The bear pulled off the branches and saw the man in the pit.
He pulled him out and tore him to pieces. When his relatives
came, there was nothing left but his bones.
"My father did not die in battle, nor of sickness, but of old
age. After his death, I became interested in religious things
and came north to live. One night I slept alone on a high hill
of the prairies. I had a strong dream. The Sun God came to
me and said:
"'My son, be not afraid. I give you my power and will
guard you through life.'
"I took an interest in the Sun Dance and became one of
its leaders. From that time, I was no longer called Run-
ning Wolf. People called me Brings-Down-the-Sun (Natosin-
nepe-e), because I had the power of the Sun.
"I have nine children living, four sons and five daughters.
The names of my sons are, Running Wolf, Iron Shirt, Double
Walker, and Three Eagles. The girls are, Long Hair, Turns-
Back-the-Herd- Alone, Good Kill, Double-Gun- Worn an, and
Whistling-All-Night.
"Towards the north lies the highest summit of the Porcu-
pine Hills. No trail leads to it and it is surrounded by a dense
forest. The top is steep and is covered with stunted pines.
From that direction come our hardest storms. When my
oldest son died I went to that lonely summit. I did not want
to see any one. I stayed there night and day and fasted.
Then I had a dream. The Spirit of the Mountain came to me
and gave me a Medicine Robe; l and with it went supernatu-
i This Medicine Robe of Brings-Down-the-Sun is now in the Blackfoot Collec-
tion, American Museum of Natural History, New York City.
2i8 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
ral power — power to heal the sick. This wonderful Robe had
many skins of birds and wild animals attached. There were
marks to represent the Sun and Morning Star, also the con-
stellations of the Bunch Stars and the Seven Persons. I wore
it in the ceremony of the Sun Dance, when I stood before the
people; and it gave me power to doctor the sick.
"That Spirit of the Mountain warned me to give up using
the sweat-lodge, lest more of my children die; and to wash
daily in the river. Since that time I have always bathed in
the river every morning, even in winter when I have to break
the ice. I tell my sons to bathe regularly; and after they fin-
ish, the women go in. I believe sickness can be warded off by
keeping the body clean and using sweet smoke for incense."
CHAPTER XXXI
BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN TELLS ABOUT
MEN'S SOCIETIES
The Braves
"I am a member of the Society of Braves. It was started
long ago by an Indian. He had a strong dream in which he
saw a band of dogs and the way they acted. The Braves
ruled the camp and helped our chiefs to keep order. We
punished men and women who quarreled; we sometimes
killed people who disobeyed our orders.
"When it was time for our tribe to move camp, we marched
with the beating of drums and singing, each member carry-
ing a knife and a bow and quiver full of arrows. We went to
the center of camp and spent the night curled up on the
ground like dogs. The day our tribe moved, we stayed
behind and acted like dogs, eating all the food that was left;
like dogs we followed slowly and entered camp after all the
lodges were pitched.
"We placed our big lodge in the center of camp, taking
possession early, on the morning we danced. Our leader wore
a coyote skin for a headdress with the tail hanging down
behind. He was called Wolf-Skin-Man and carried a short
lance, which was decorated with feathers. The next in rank
carried a willow branch. He wore a robe with buffalo hoofs
attached, which rattled when he danced.
"On the left of our leader sat the 'white braves,' with
white painted lances stuck into the ground in front of their
seats. Their bodies were painted white; and they had yellow
stripes across nose and eyes. Two other members called
'water braves' were painted black; they carried bladders on
22o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
their backs for water pails and bags for back-fat and pemmi-
can. There were also 'black braves' carrying black lances,
with bodies painted black and black stripes across their faces;
and 'red braves' with red lances and red painted bodies.
"Two other braves carried bows and arrows instead of
lances. They had their faces painted to impress the specta-
tors; their bodies were covered with red and on their faces
was the bear sign — black streaks down over the eyes and
at each corner of the mouth. They wore their front hair short
and made it stand straight up by covering it with paint.
They had fringed shirts made from the smoked tops of old
lodge covers, belts of bearskin and arm-bands of bearskin
with bear claws attached; for headdresses they had strips of
skin with bear ears and two claws attached to look like
double ears.
"Whenever we danced outside our society lodge, we sat
in an open circle with four drummers in the center, our lances
stuck into the ground with points down. Wolf-Skin-Man as
leader was at the head of our circle, opposite the opening,
with the two bear braves outside. They covered themselves
with robes, as if they were bears lying in a den.
"Our leader, Wolf-Skin-Man, danced first, blowing his
bone whistle as a signal for the others to follow. Then we
dropped our robes and followed him, blowing whistles and
bearing our lances. We danced slowly in a circle, leaning
forward and holding our lances near the ground and acting
like dogs looking for places to lie down. The white-painted
braves drove the others before them with their lances, but
stopped as soon as the two water braves appeared. Then
came the brave with the willow branch, who could not stop
dancing until the two grizzly bears appeared.
"The bears only danced when they felt like it. They lay
in their den and did as they pleased. Sometimes the specta-
tors threw things at them to make them dance. When they
ABOUT MEN'S SOCIETIES 221
were ready they got up slowly, holding their hands the way
bears do their paws. They danced leaning over, hopping along
in short jumps with their feet together, as bears are accus-
tomed to do. They aimed with bows and arrows, and drove
the other dancers back to their seats.
"When we wanted to bring our dance to a close, the two
bears pretended they were going to shoot at the spectators
with sharp-pointed arrows; but they changed quickly to
painted arrows without points and shot them over the heads
of the people. Then we ran over the prairie, in the direction
the arrows flew, taking off our moccasins and throwing them
away.
"We marched through camp singing our society song and
shouted our orders to the people. It was our custom to take
anything we wanted, even food from the kettle, as dogs do.
We stopped to dance at the lodges of prominent chiefs, who
were expected to give us presents of food and clothes. If any
people bothered us or held us back, the bears shot at them
with their arrows.
"If our leader told us to allow no one to chase buffalo, then
we were the watchmen of the herds. If the buffalo were
frightened and ran away, scared by some one who chased
secretly, we followed that man and took away his horse and
weapons; we tore off his clothes and whipped him; we sent
him back to camp naked and on foot. We alone could look
for buffalo; and, when we found plenty of them, we moved
the tribe that way. We also punished women who picked
berries against our orders by tearing their lodges to pieces.
" Men who joined the Society of Braves had to face danger
whenever it came; they could not turn away. When we
decided it was time to change our camping place, we made
a feast in our society lodge and invited the head-chief. After
we had eaten and were smoking together, our head-chief
would say:
222 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
"'My children, why have you asked me to come here?
What is it that you want'?
"And our leader would answer: 'Grass is scarce for the
horses; the water is poor and the ground no longer clean; it is
time for us to move to another place.'
"Then the head-chief would reply: 'In the morning we
shall break camp; it is too late to-day. Tell the people to
bring in their horses from the hills and to picket them close
to their lodges; we shall start at the rising of the sun.'"
The Society of Mosquitoes
"This society was formed many years ago by an Indian
who hunted in a place where there were great numbers of
mosquitoes. They came in swarms and bit him all over; he
lay on the ground and lost all feeling; he heard strange
voices singing:
' " Mosquitoes, mosquitoes, get together, get together.
Mosquitoes, get together,
Our friend is nearly dead.'
"And then he saw mosquitoes beginning to dance. Some
were red and others yellow. They had claws attached to their
wrists and long plumes hanging from their hair. They sat in a
circle and sang; they jumped up and down, springing this
way and that, always dancing in the direction of the sun.
He heard a voice say:
"'Brother, because you were generous and let us drink
freely from your body, we give you our society of mosquitoes;
we make you the leader.'
"Then that man came safely home and started the Society
of Mosquitoes. Its members wore buffalo robes with the hair
side out. Some painted themselves red and others yellow,
with stripes across nose and eyes. They wore plumes in their
hair and eagle claws attached to their wrists to represent the
bills of mosquitoes.
ABOUT MEN'S SOCIETIES 223
"When the mosquito society gave their dance, they sat in
a circle around the drummers; the leader was at the head,
with yellow mosquitoes on both sides. After each song, they
held down their heads and made a buzzing noise in imita-
tion of mosquitoes. After repeating this dance four times,
they scattered and went through the camp. Any person they
met, they scratched with their eagle-claws, and said: 'Now
I shall take blood from you.'
"Any one who resisted or tried to run away, they caught
and scratched hard. But those who offered themselves freely,
and invited them to take their fill, they did not hurt. Because,
if a mosquito is left alone, its bite does no harm."
The Society of Kit Foxes
"This was one of the oldest of all our societies. It was
started by an Indian named Elk Tongue, who dreamed
about a kit fox. It invited him into its den. And there he
saw the chief of the foxes with many foxes seated around
him. Before he left their den, the fox chief said:
"'When you return to your tribe, take a foxskin for
your medicine; wear it always on your back and my power
will go with you. Form a Society of Kit Foxes. Gather to-
gether some young men and show them how to dress and to
dance. Tell them, if they do these things and never kill any
foxes, they will have benefit. But it will be bad luck for them
to harm a fox.'
"After Elk Tongue came home he started the Society of
Kit Foxes. The members had great power. The ceremony
was secret and the people were afraid; it was dangerous to
talk about it. Elk Tongue was their leader. He alone knew
the secrets and told the other members what to do. Before he
died he taught the ceremony to his son and told him all the
secrets. After that the power of the foxskin was handed
down from father to son through many years; and the mem-
224 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
bers of that society taught their children never to harm a
fox.
"When the Kit Foxes gave their ceremony, they opened
up two lodges and made them into one. For four days and
four nights they sat inside, painting and dressing themselves,
singing and making ready, only appearing outside their
dance lodge at night.
"But, on the fifth day, they came out and marched
through the camp. Their leader wore the foxskin with its
head in front, the ears on top, and the skin itself, with small
bells attached to the tail, hanging down his back. He carried
a bow and arrows, which were painted green; his body was
also painted red, his face green, to look as frightful as pos-
sible and to make people afraid.
"The second in rank, called the white-circle-man, carried
a long lance, with one end bent into the form of a hook; it
was covered with white swan's-down and had white eagle
feathers attached at regular intervals along its staff.
"The next in rank had a long lance in the form of a hook,
which was wrapped with otter-skin and had black and red
feathers attached. The other members carried pointed lances
decorated with feathers, and small pipes painted red. They
all painted their faces and wore eagle feathers in their back
hair. Around their legs were wide bands of otter-skin with
small bells attached.
"When the Kit Foxes marched through the camp, they
formed in the shape of a fox head. The chief went first to
represent the nose; behind him were the second and third
men for the eyes; then came the other members in a group,
all together representing the head of a fox. The two second
men, as the eyes, watched the chief who was the nose, or
leader; they acted as he directed and the rest followed after.
"For their dance, they sat in lines, with the regular mem-
bers in the first line. If any were withdrawing from the society
ABOUT MEN'S SOCIETIES 225
— giving up their lances to new candidates — they sat in
a second line; and the wives of the members sat behind.
"As soon as the drums began, the leader started the dance;
and the two circle-men with white lances followed. After
them came the other members with plain spears. They
danced in pairs, the way Kit Foxes run together. They gave
short, even jumps with feet close together, imitating the
movements of a fox. They barked and moved about, first
in one direction, then in another, just as a fox is accustomed
to do. The two circle-men (eyes), barking and swinging
their spears, danced between the two lines. They did not
move in a straight line, because a fox never goes straight; his
tail always seems to guide him. When the white-circle-men
shouted, 'It is enough,' the dance stopped and the members
returned to their seats. But, after a short rest, they began
again. And that is what I know about our societies."
CHAPTER XXXII
BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN TELLS ABOUT THE BIRDS
AND THE STARS
We were seated by our camp-fire with the old chief and his
family. My Indian sister, Strikes-on-Both-Sides, and Long
Hair delighted the children, making whistles from cotton-
wood bark and toy lodges from leaves of the balsam poplar,
winding them around their fingers into the shape of little
tepees and fastening them together with twigs. They set
them up like real lodges and made them into a big camp in
the form of a circle.
Then we gave Brings-Down-the-Sun the collection of roots
and herbs we gathered especially for him; and a rare medicinal
root called "sharp vine" by the Indians, one of his favorite
remedies for breaks and sprains. He was so glad to get it
that he chanted and prayed over it. After putting our present
carefully in an old medicine sack, he seated himself apart
from the others, and with dignity waited for the women and
children to become quiet.
From his manner I knew he was ready for his Indian
stories and hastened to prepare notebooks and writing equip-
ment. The old chief was watching, for he said with a smile:
"My white son there reminds me of a squirrel; he runs in
one direction as if to steal something, then darts quickly in
another; he never sits still a moment; he is always on the
move."
At that moment a woodpecker with red-crested head
called from a tree top. Brings-Down-the-Sun pointed to the
bird and said: "He calls to the worms and bugs to stick out
their heads; he is hungry and wants to eat them."
THE BIRDS AND THE STARS 227
I asked the chief to tell about other birds and their songs.
He replied:
"We called the yellow-breast (Western meadow-lark)
'big-rump-bird,' because he is so broad across the back. He
is one of the first birds to come in the spring. We are always
glad to see him; when he comes we know that summer is
near. He has different songs: 'Good whistler (his wife) is
a selfish woman'; also, 'Your sister has a black skin.'
"The black breast (horned lark) sings in the air: 'Spread
out your blanket and I will light upon it.'
"Summer bringers (white-throats) sing: 'The leaves are
budding and summer is coming.'
"We call the bird that chatters among the bushes, when
women are gathering berries, 'stingy-with-their-berries'
(kingbird). A bird with long legs and black breast (spotted
sandpiper) we call 'shadow-in-the-water,' because it stands
in shallow water and looks at its own shadow.
"My father taught me how to read the future, by watching
the flights of birds and the habits of wild animals. Of all the
birds, we look upon the raven as the wisest. When I see one
soaring over our camp, I know a messenger is coming from a
distance. If two ravens sit near a trail with their heads close
together, it is a sign an enemy is near. On a hunt, if I see a
flock of ravens playing together, I go in that direction and
am sure to find game.
"My father told me how to read the signs in the sky —
if the sun paints his face (sun dogs), a big storm is com-
ing; when the 'fires of the northmen' (aurora) show in the
sky, a heavy wind is coming; a 'feeding star' (comet), is a
sign of famine and sickness; and if the sun hides his face
(eclipse), a great chief is about to die. The rainbow is the
'lariat'; it is the Thunder roping the rain; and the storm
will slow up."
228 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Calendar of Moons
"The first moon of winter (November) is the 'wind-moon,'
or ' time of the first big snow.'
"Last of December and early January, 'moon of the first
warm wind' (chinook).
"January, 'moon when the jack rabbit whistles at night.'
"February, 'moon of heavy snows,' or 'when buffalo
calves are black.'
"March, 'moon of sore eyes,' or 'moon when the geese
fly north.'
"April, 'moon when ice breaks up in the rivers.'
The spring moon has different names — ' time when the
trees are budding,' 'when buffalo calves are yellow,' 'when
the buffalo plant is in flower,' 'when the grass begins to grow.'
"May, 'moon when the leaves come out.'
"June, 'moon of high water.'
"Late June and July, 'moon of flowers,' 'when strawber-
ries get ripe.'
"We call August, 'home days.'
"September, 'moon when the leaves turn yellow.'
"October, 'moon when the leaves fall.'
"Last of October and early November, 'moon when the
geese fly south.'
"My father used to sit by the lodge-fire on long winter
evenings and tell us stones and the wonderful things that
happened in his life. He told about the Stars and the Sun
and the Moon, saying:
The Bunched Stars
"There is a family of small stars in the sky; we call them
Bunched Stars. They are some children that got lost from
an Indian camp on the plains long ago.
"This happened in the spring, the moon when the buffalo
THE BIRDS AND THE STARS 229
calves are yellow. Some hunters were driving buffalo over a
cliff. When they went back to camp, they gave the little
yellow skins of the buffalo calves to their children, who wore
them in playing.
"There was a poor family in the camp, whose children did
not get any of the calfskins; and the others made fun of them.
"Then the poor children were ashamed, because they were
not dressed like the others. They ran away from the camp
and got lost on the plains. They had no place to go, so they
went up to the sky. We know they are the Bunched Stars
(Pleiades), because they never show themselves in the spring
— the time buffalo calves are yellow. But, in the fall, when
the calves are brown, you can see the Bunched Stars in the
sky every night."
The Seven Stars {Ursa Major)
"There is a constellation in the north sky we call the
Seven Stars. They belonged to a family of nine children,
two girls and seven boys. The oldest girl had many suitors,
but she would not marry. She went every day into the forest
to gather wood.
"One day her little sister followed; and when they were in
the forest together, the older girl left her and went off alone.
She stayed a long while and came back with her clothes
covered with earth and leaves. The younger girl said to her-
self: 'There is something my sister does when she goes alone;
and now I shall find out.' Next day she followed secretly; she
saw her sister having a good time with a big grizzly bear;
and came home and told her father.
"Then the father was angry. He said to his oldest daugh-
ter: 'Now I know why you do not marry any of our young
men; you have a grizzly bear for your lover.'
"He went through the camp and called to the people: 'I
have a grizzly bear for a son-in-law; he waits near by in the
230 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
forest; let us all go forth and kill him.' So they went out and
killed him.
"Then the girl stood by the body of her bear lover and
mourned. His spirit came tp her in a dream and bestowed his
supernatural power upon her. After that she wore a piece
of his skin for a charm and could do wonderful things.
"One day she suddenly changed herself into a big grizzly
bear. She went through the camp and killed all the people;
she spared only her little brother and sister. And the three of
them lived together. But all this time the six older brothers
were away on the warpath.
" One day the little sister went to the river with her water
pails and met the brothers coming home from war. She told
them about Bear-Skin-Woman — how she had killed all the
people and would surely kill them too.
"Then the brothers planned to save their little brother
and sister. They gathered prickly pears and scattered them
in the dark, leaving only a narrow path from the tepee. That
night the two children ran away in the dark and joined their
waiting brothers by the river.
"As soon as Bear-Skin-Woman knew they had gone, she
turned herself into a grizzly bear and followed them. But
the prickly pears got into her feet and she had to stop to pull
them out.
"It turned out that the little brother, whose name was Body
Chief, was a medicine man with great power. He carried a
bow with magical arrows and wore an eagle feather in his
hair. When he heard their bear sister coming, he took his
feather and made a lake between them and the bear; again
he made a thicket to hold her back; and another time they
all climbed into a tree.
"When the bear came to the tree, she said: 'Now where
can you go? I am going to kill all of you.'
"She climbed into the tree and knocked six of the brothers
THE BIRDS AND THE STARS 231
down; only Body Chief and his little sister were left. Then a
little bird lighted in the tree near Body Chief and sang:
" ' Shoot her in the top-knot.
Shoot her in the top-knot.
You must shoot the top of her head.'
"By this time the bear was near Body Chief, so he took
one of his magical arrows and shot her. She fell dead, and
Body Chief came down from the tree.
"Now six of the brothers were dead. But Body Chief shot
six of his arrows into the air. Each time he brought a brother
back to life, until they were all alive again.
"Then Body Chief said: 'Now what shall we do? Our
relatives and friends are all dead and we have no place
to go.'
"The oldest brother said: 'Let us go to the sky and be-
come seven stars in the north. Then people will always know
that the morning comes from us.'
"So Body Chief took one of his eagle feathers. He waved
it over his head, and the brothers went up to the sky one after
the other. They took the same places they had in the tree,
with the four oldest at the bottom. Body Chief, the medicine
man, is the end star in the constellation, and their little
sister the small star at one side. Every night you can see the
brothers move around the sky, until their heads are up in the
morning. And that is how the Seven Stars {Ursa Major)
came to be."
Then Brings-Down-the-Sun arose and pointing to the
bright constellation in the north, said: "Behold! The last
brother is pointing down towards the prairie and the light
of day will soon come."
CHAPTER XXXIII
LEGENDS OF STAR BOY AND SCARFACE
Our last evening in the North Piegan camp many Indians
came to visit. So we gathered logs and built up the fire, until
the flames lighted up our white tepees and the surrounding
woods.
Brings-Down-the-Sun took his customary seat on a log
by our fire and silently smoked his redstone pipe. The fire
burned low and there came a silence. I heard the last birds
chirping in the thickets and frogs croaking in a near-by
swamp. Finally I asked the old chief to tell about two bright
stars (Venus and Jupiter) then in conjunction; they rose in
the early morning before the sun. He knocked the ashes
from his pipe, and for a moment gazed meditatively into the
fire. Then he said :
"The things I am going to tell you happened long ago,
long before we had the Sun Dance; when our people used
stone weapons and had dogs instead of horses for beasts of
burden.
Star Boy
"It was a night in early summer. The sky was clear and
a warm wind blew over the prairies. Two sisters were sleep-
ing on the grass outside their father's lodge. The youngest,
whose name was Feather Woman, wakened before daybreak
and saw Morning Star rising from the prairie. For a while she
watched this wonderful star; and she talked to him as if he
were her lover. At last she woke her sister and said: 'See
Morning Star! He is beautiful and must be very wise. I
want him for my husband.'
"This happened in the spring. In the 'moon when leaves
LEGENDS OF STAR BOY AND SCARFACE 233
were turning yellow,' the sister who loved the star found
herself with child. The people learned her secret and taunted
her until she wanted to die.
"One day, at the time when geese were flying south,
Feather Woman went alone to the river for water. On her
way back to camp, a young man met her in the trail. He
stood in her way and she said:
"'Why do you want to head me off? None of the young
men have ever bothered me before.'
"And he answered: 'I am Morning Star. One night in
spring you took me for your husband. Now I have come from
the sky to take you to the lodge of my father and mother,
the Sun and Moon. We shall be together and you will have
no more trouble.'
"Then the girl remembered that night in the early sum-
mer and knew Morning Star was the father of her child. He
wore a yellow plume in his hair and held a juniper branch
with a spider-web hanging from one end. He was tall and
straight and his hair was long and shining. His beautiful
clothes were of soft-tanned skins; and had a fragrance of
pine and sweet grass.
"She wanted to tell her father and mother; but Morning
Star allowed her to speak to no one. He fastened his plume
in her hair and told her to close her eyes. He gave her the
branch with the spider-web to hold; and thus she was drawn
up to the sky. When she opened her eyes, she was standing
with Morning Star before a large lodge. He said: 'This is the
home of my father and mother, the Sun and Moon.'
"It was daytime and the Sun was away on his long journey,
but the Moon was at home. Morning Star said to his mother:
* I saw this girl asleep on the prairie; I loved her and she is now
my wife.'
"Then the Moon was glad and took the girl into their
lodge. She gave her a dress of soft-tanned deerskin, trimmed
234 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
with elk teeth, wristlets of elk teeth, and an elkskin robe, and
said: 'I give you these because you married our son.'
"So Feather Woman lived with Morning Star in the home
of the Sun. She was happy and learned many wonder-
ful things. When her child was born, they called him
Star Boy; then the Moon gave her a sacred root-digger,
saying:
'"It is used only by good women; with it you can dig all
kinds of roots; but do not dig up the big turnip that grows
near the home of the Spider Man.'
"Everywhere Feather Woman went, she carried the root-
digger and Star Boy. She often looked at the big turnip, but
was afraid to touch it. But one day she felt curious to see
what was underneath; she thought how strange was the
warning of her mother-in-law, the Moon.
"She laid Star Boy on the ground and started to dig; but
the root-digger stuck fast. Two large cranes came flying from
the east; and she called on them for help. The man-crane
stood on one side, his wife on the other. He took the turnip
in his long bill and moved it slowly backwards and forwards.
They chanted four songs in the four directions. Then they
pulled up the turnip; and Feather Woman saw a hole in the
sky.
"She looked down to the earth, and saw the prairies and
rivers, the meadows and lodges of her people. For a long
time she sat watching the familiar scenes; women tanning
skins and making lodges, gathering berries on the hills and
crossing the meadows to and fro for water. It made her un-
happy and she began to cry. She felt lonely and wanted to
go back to her own people on the prairies.
"Then Feather Woman returned to the lodge of the Sun.
As soon as she entered, Morning Star saw she was unhappy
and said:
"'Alas! You have dug up the sacred turnip.' And, when
LEGENDS OF STAR BOY AND SCARFACE 23s
she made no reply, the Moon said: 'I warned you, because
I did not want to lose Star Boy.'
"Nothing more was said, because the Sun Chief was still
away on his long journey through the sky. In the evening
when he came home, he said:
"'What is the matter with my daughter-in-law? She
looks unhappy and must be in trouble.'
"Feather Woman answered: 'Yes, I looked down to the
earth and feel homesick for my people.'
"Then the Sun God was angry and said to Morning Star:
'She has disobeyed and must go back to the earth. She can
no longer be happy with us.'
"After that Morning Star took Feather Woman to the
home of the Spider Man, whose long web had drawn her up
to the sky. He laid Star Boy on her breast and wrapped them
both in the elkskin robe; he bade them farewell and let them
down to the earth.
"This happened in midsummer, the time 'when berries
were ripe.' In the Blackfoot camp many people were outside
their lodges, watching a crowd of young men play a game of
rolling the wheel. Suddenly they beheld something coming
down from the sky. And when they came to the place where
the bundle lay, they saw the woman and her baby.
"They took her to her father's lodge and she lived there.
But after that she was not happy. She used to go alone to the
summit of a hill and mourn for her husband. One night she
slept on the hill; and, at daybreak, when Morning Star rose
over the prairies, she begged him to take her back.
"Before Feather Woman died, she told all these things to
her father and mother. Then the grandparents of Star Boy
died, and he was left alone in the camp. He was so poor he
had no clothes, not even moccasins to wear. He did not play
with other children; they made fun of him and stoned him.
Whenever the tribe moved camp, he had to walk barefoot
2^6 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
behind the rest of the people. He had a ridge-scar on his
face; and they called him Scarface.
Scarface
"Now when Scarface became a young man he loved the
daughter of a chief. She had many suitors, but refused all of
them. Scarface asked her to marry him. But the chief's
daughter ridiculed Scarface and said: 'I shall not marry you
until your scar can be seen no more.'
"Then Scarface was ashamed and went away from the
camp. He wandered alone; he fasted, and prayed to the birds
and wild animals for power. Finally an eagle took him to the
home of a wise old woman. She asked him why he traveled
so far, and he replied: 'Because of this, my scar.'
"Then the old woman said: 'Ah, yes, I know, I under-
stand. You must go to the place where the sun sets, beyond
the mountains and down the other side, to the big water.
There you must wait, for you will be near the home of the Sun.
In the evening he comes home to his lodge; and before dawn
his only son, the Morning Star, comes out. He will tell you
how to live.'
"The old medicine woman pitied Scarface and gave him
food to eat, and moccasins to wear, for his feet were torn
and bleeding. Then he left her and traveled again, across
the mountains and down the other side, until he came at last
to the shore of the big water. There it was so hot he knew he
was near the lodge of the Sun. So he lay down and waited.
"In the early morning a young man with a beautiful face
came forth. It was Morning Star. He saw Scarface and
said:
"'Brother, I shall hide you. Soon my father, the Sun,
will appear and would kill you. In the morning he comes
from his lodge and starts on his long journey through the
sky/
LEGENDS OF STAR BOY AND SCARFACE 237
"So Morning Star hid Scarface. And after the Sun had
gone, he took him to his mother, the Moon, and said:
"'I want this fellow for my comrade. He has come a long
way and I ask you to pity him.'
"The Moon answered: 'Wait until your father comes home
to-night; I am afraid he won't allow the young man to stay.'
"That evening, as soon as the Sun entered the lodge, he
said to his wife: 'Whew! Old woman, I smell a human here.'
"And the Moon replied: 'Yes, your son has a chum hidden
yonder.'
"Then the Sun would have killed Scarface, but the Moon
interceded and saved his life. Morning Star burned juniper
and sweet grass. He put Scarface in the sweet-smelling
smoke; and after that the Sun allowed him to stay in the
lodge.
"Thus Scarface became the comrade of Morning Star; and
the two young men went everywhere together. On one of
their trips, some huge birds with sharp bills attacked Morn-
ing Star. They would have killed him, but Scarface cut off
all their heads and saved his life. Four of the heads he gave to
the Sun and three to the Moon. Then the Sun praised Scarface.
He said he was a chief and gave him a war shirt, which was
trimmed with scalps and ermine and with leggings to match.
On each legging the Sun made seven black lines to represent
the seven enemies he had killed. Because of this our warriors
have always painted their leggings with the number of ene-
mies they kill in battle.
"The Sun asked Scarface why he traveled so far, and he
replied:
"'A girl said she would not marry me until my scar was
healed.'
"Then the Sun doctored Scarface in four sweat-lodges,
until he and Morning Star looked alike in every way. Even
the Moon could not tell them apart. When the Sun asked
238 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
his wife which of the two was Morning Star, she pointed
to Scarface. For this reason the Indians sometimes call him
Morning-Star-by-Mistake.
"When it was time for Scarface to leave the sky and re-
turn to the earth, the Sun gave him power to heal the sick. He
told him about the Sun Dance and taught him the songs and
prayers, saying: 'It must be given in midsummer, when my
power is greatest. If a virtuous woman makes a vow to the
Sun and gives this ceremony sacred to me, the sick will be re-
stored to health.'
"At parting, Morning Star showed Scarface the Wolf
Trail (Milky Way), the short path across the sky to the earth.
He gave him a magic flute and a song with which to charm
the girl he loved. So Scarface left the home of the Sun and
returned to the earth. He brought the Sun Dance to the
Indians and power to heal the sick. Then he was taken back
to the sky and became another Morning Star, just like his
father."
Thus spake Brings-Down-the-Sun. And after a short
silence he continued, saying:
"I remember another time years ago, when these two
stars rose close together in the early morning before the sun;
also when I was a boy, I remember my father waking me
one morning when we were going on a journey, saying: 'Get
up, my son! Morning Star and Star Boy are rising over the
prairie. Day will soon dawn and it is time we were off.'
"Sometimes these two stars separate and travel alone
through the sky. I have also seen them together in the eve-
ning sky, going down after the sun. Now they are together
in the morning. You can see them before dawn. Scarface
comes up first, his father soon after, and then his grand-
father, the Sun."
When the old chief ended his talk, no one spoke for a
while, because of the magic of his words and the spell of the
" LEGENDS OF STAR BOY AND SCARFACE 239
night. Suddenly a bright meteor flashed across the heavens
and burst into a shower of sparks near the horizon. Some
of the Indians thought it an evil omen. But Brings-Down-the-
Sun said:
"That falling star is a sign a great chief has just died — a
man who had a good heart and lived a straight life. The Sun
God is all-powerful; he sees everything and watches over
every one.
"And now our story-telling is ended, for the dogs have
separated, having had their evening meal."
After Brings-Down-the-Sun and his followers had gone
and our Indians were asleep in their tepees, I lay on my blan-
ket-bed under the cottonwoods, thinking of Star Boy and
Scarface, and watching the moon, very broad and big, mount
slowly into a cloudless heaven, higher and higher, until the
great trees were bathed in its silvery light. I heard the night
wind in the trees, the murmuring of the river, and once the
mournful cry of some night bird. In the peace and quiet of
that wilderness camp, my home in civilization seemed like
another world.
At dawn I wakened and saw our women making a fire to
cook breakfast. After a plunge in the cold river, I went to
find our horses, along the wooded trail in the valley, past
the silent white lodges of the North Piegans. Out on the
open prairie a gentle breeze was blowing, bearing the sweet
fragrance of woods and meadows.
In the east were the two bright morning stars in conjunc-
tion, Star Boy and his father, the planets Jupiter and Venus.
Star Boy (Jupiter) came up first, and was followed by Morn-
ing Star.
The first birds were chirping in the thickets and from the
hills came the wailing cries of bands of coyotes. Soon a rosy
glow spread over the Rocky Mountains, over the snow-capped
2 4 o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
peaks and the forests of the lower slopes. By the time I
found our horses, the sun itself came up and flooded the
prairies with light.
When our lodges were down and wagons packed, Brings-
Down-the-Sun came to say farewell, leading his favorite
horse, Soks-kinne (Loud Voice).
Soks-kinne was a handsome stallion with silvery mane
and tail, the fastest race horse of the North Piegans. What
a chest he had! Long legs and brightest of eyes. The old
chief cared for him as for an old and faithful friend. But he
led his horse forth and gave him to us.
When we refused to take him, Brings-Down-the-Sun
handed me his favorite pipe of redstone, and said:
"My son, I give you my 'everyday' pipe — the one I
have smoked for many years. Keep it as a remembrance of
your Indian father. My heart feels heavy because you are
going; and I shall be lonely every time I see your deserted
camp-ground. Never have I gone into another camp to talk
day after day as I have with you."
Then he shook hands; and, as I turned to go, the old chief
gazed towards the rising sun and prayed:
"Father, the Sun!
May he go safely while traveling afar!
May we live long and continue to be friends!
May we both meet and be happy again!"
As we left the valley for the open plains, I turned in the
saddle for a last look, and saw Brings-Down-the-Sun with
bowed head, going along the trail to his lodge, leading his
horse and followed by his old dog, Kops-ksisse.
CHAPTER XXXIV
BEGINNING OF THE SUN DANCE
The Blackfoot Indians did not have a personal God. They
looked to the Sun as the source of all power, believing he
was everywhere — in the mountains, lakes and rivers, birds
and wild animals. They believed that Sun Power could be
transferred to man. Any one might be the favored person;
an individual was powerless to gain it, but he could put him-
self in the way of receiving the gift.
If an Indian wanted a religious experience, or to gain super-
natural power, he went alone to a remote place to fast and
pray, sometimes for many days. The gift came generally
through the medium of some wild animal, bird, or super-
natural being, whose compassion was aroused by his fasting
and by his exhausted condition; often through one of the
more powerful animals — the buffalo, grizzly bear, beaver,
wolf, eagle, Thunder, or the Maker of Storms and Blizzards.
If the grizzly bear bestowed his power, the man who received
it was believed to attain the great strength and vitality of
the bear.
The tribe had many sacred bundles containing supernat-
ural power; all had songs for their rituals, and all the songs
were different. The medicine men who led the ceremonies had
to know the songs of the different bundles. This required
many years of patient study and was an important part in
the preparation of a medicine man.
In the ceremonies of these bundles, the objects they con-
tained were of minor importance; the songs were the means
of contact with religious power. Some of the ceremonies were
believed to have power to heal the sick, others to promote
the welfare of the people, or to bring success in war. But
242 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
each bundle was owned by an individual who, in turn, could
transfer it to another.
The Sun Dance was the only ceremony in which all the
people participated. It was a great tribal festival held every
year at midsummer when the grass was long and food plen-
tiful. It always had its origin in a woman's vow to the Sun
generally in behalf of a relative who was dying. Some at-
tended to fast and pray, others to fulfill vows; but most of the
people came for social enjoyment, and to see the ceremonies
and social dances.
Mad Wolf, my Indian father, and his wife were the givers
of a Sun Dance. One day in the early summer, I rode
Kutenai, my saddle horse, across the prairie to attend their
opening ceremony. When I came to a long ridge-like summit
that led down to his camp, I dismounted to rest and view
the landscape.
In the wide and grassy valleys were herds of fat horses and
cattle. Sharp against the western horizon stood the snowy
peak of Divide Mountain, where two continental divides
meet, and the rocky summit of a mountain called "Chief"
by the Indians, because it stands apart and is higher than the
other peaks. It was evening and the hills and mountains
were bathed in the rosy light of sunset. On all sides I heard
the sweet sounds of prairie birds — the Western meadow-
lark and lark sparrow and the serene and exalted song of the
willow thrush.
But the dogs of Mad Wolf's camp soon broke the spell;
they got wind of the approaching white man and began an
incessant barking. So I leaped into the saddle and rode down
to his camp.
When I entered the lodge, the chief and his wife Gives-to-
the-Sun were seated together at the back, their heads bowed
in prayer. He looked at me with his keen glance, then shook
hands and, directing me to a seat on a couch, said:
BEGINNING OF THE SUN DANCE 243
"I am glad in my heart that you have come to our Sun
Dance. Ever since you went away, I have prayed to the Sun
for your safe return. Now you can see our ceremony. I shall
tell you everything and you can explain it to the white men;
for I believe you are straight and will tell them the truth."
I asked Mad Wolf how it happened they were giving a Sun
Dance, and he replied:
"Last winter, at the time of the second big blizzard,
Small Otter, our youngest grandchild, was ill. Snow lay deep
over the prairie; it was cold and for many days the sun did not
shine. The doctors, White Grass and Ear-Rings, came. They
gave root medicines; they danced and sang and beat upon
their medicine drums. But our child grew weaker; they
said he was going to die.
"One evening the clouds broke and the sun shone through.
My wife went outside the lodge; she looked up to the Sun
and prayed:
"'Sun, have pity!
I am praying for my grandson,
The one that is dying.
May he get well!
Sun, you must listen.
I swear I am pure.
All my life I lived straight.
Sun, I promise to give your ceremony,
If our child gets well.
We shall call in all the people.
Sun, have pity and hear my prayer.'
"Then she went to the bedside of Small Otter and said:
'Rise up, my child, and get well; for your sake I have vowed
to give a Sun Dance.'
"After that my wife went to see Bull Child, the medicine
man, and told him of her vow. Next morning they stood
together facing the rising sun; and Bull Child prayed:
"'Sun, I know this woman has led a pure life. If her sick
grandchild recovers, I promise she will give the ceremony for
244 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
you; she will fast before all the people and become a medicine
woman.'
"The following spring, by the time the snow had melted,
Small Otter was well. So when the warm winds began to
blow and the grass was green, we began to save tongues and
make ready to fulfill our vow to the Sun. Now we are going
to prepare them for the sacred food."
Before Mad Wolf and Gives-to-the-Sun started on the
tongues, they asked White Calf, the head-chief, and his
wife to help and guide them in the ceremony. They were the
givers of the Sun Dance the year before. So they came to
our camp and went through the ceremony of painting Mad
Wolf and his wife and Small Otter, for whom the vow was
made. They prayed with them and sang many songs. And
the two couples stood together outside the lodge, while
White Calf prayed to the Sun, promising that the Sun Dance
would be given. W 7 hite Calf repeated this promise in the
four directions, while they faced in turn, north, south, east,
and west.
Then they smoked a pipe together, and White Calf and
his wife promised to lead and instruct and to act as "father"
and "mother" throughout the long ceremony of the Sun
Dance. And from them Gives-to-the-Sun purchased a "na-
toas" (sun-dance bundle), containing a sacred headdress and
other articles, which were used by the woman who made a
vow to the Sun. Thus it became known throughout the
tribe that the Sun Festival would be given that summer by
the Mad Wolf family.
After many tongues had been gathered and dried ready
for use, Mad Wolf moved his camp to another place and
summoned his relatives and friends to assist him in the cere-
mony. Then came many well-known Indians and their
families and joined the camp, White Grass, Ear-Rings, Curly
Bear, Middle Calf, Double Runner, Morning Plume, and
BEGINNING OF THE SUN DANCE 245
Blessed Weasel — the men to help in the singing and prayers,
the women in preparing tongues.
Throughout these long rites my Indian father gave me
instruction and every facility to learn; he stopped the cere-
mony that I might write down the chants and prayers and
make photographic records. All his friends and relatives
were well-disposed and the way was open.
The consecrating of the tongues lasted several days, the
same ceremony being repeated for every lot of tongues
brought in. They chanted and prayed and burned incense.
White Calf and his wife directed. Throughout the entire cere-
mony of the Sun Dance, they were known as the "father"
and "mother," Mad Wolf and his wife as the "son" and
"daughter."
Gives-to-the-Sun, as the medicine woman, sat directly
back of the fire in the central position, with Mad Wolf on her
left and the wife of White Calf on her right. Next to Mad
Wolf sat the head-chief, White Calf, and the other men. The
men were all together on the north side of the lodge, while
the women were together on the opposite side and in the
same order as their husbands.
The wife of W 7 hite Calf, as the "mother," took the tongues
from the cases and laid them in rows on a rawhide. It was her
privilege to hand them to the other women for slicing and
skinning. She gave the first one to Gives-to-the-Sun, be-
cause she made the vow to the Sun. This tongue was then
painted black on one side and red on the other, to distinguish
it from the others; and as soon as Gives-to-the-Sun had
taken it, she renewed her vow by praying:
"Sun, I have lived a straight life.
Ever since I came to my husband,
I have been faithful to him.
Sun, help me! What I say is true.
Help me to cut this tongue without mistake"
246 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
During the preparing of the tongues, if any of the women
cut themselves or made a mistake, it was taken as a sign
they were not virtuous.
After the tongues were cut into slices, two women went
to the river for water, carrying a kettle between them. Be-
fore starting and all through their movements, they made
prayers and sang. On their way to the river they stopped
four times, each time standing with bowed heads, praying
earnestly to the Sun. While dipping the water, they also
sang and prayed and made four pauses for prayer on their
way back to the lodge.
When the women placed the kettle of tongues on the fire,
they burned sweet grass as incense. And while the tongues
were boiling, they chanted and prayed, burning sweet grass
and throwing it into the kettle. At this time the women made
vows to the Sun that they were virtuous. They recounted
their temptations — the occasions when they were improp-
erly approached by men; they made known the names of the
men and told how they had resisted.
After the boiling of the tongues, the kettle was taken from
the fire and held in the sweet smoke, while White Calf sang
to the Sun, Moon, and Morning Star. Then they had an-
other ceremony for drying the tongues, and still another one
for placing them in cases. Thus the meat was consecrated
and made ready for taking to sun-dance camp, where the
entire tribe would assemble.
CHAPTER XXXV
FORMING THE GREAT CIRCLE CAMP
Indians with their families kept coming to Mad Wolfs
camp until their lodges spread far out upon the plain. The
days were warm with clear sunshine and all were eager to
move to the sun-dance camp.
At last the ceremony of the tongues was finished and they
were packed in parfleches. One evening, when the sun
was sinking into the west, I saw Mad Wolf come from his
lodge and heard his strong voice ring out over the quiet
plain, saying:
"Hear, my children. The time has come to move to the
circle camp. Berries are ripe and the grass is now long over
the prairies. To-morrow we shall go to the big flat on Willow
Creek. Bring in your horses to-night and be ready to start
at the rising of the sun."
Next morning I wakened soon after dawn and went out
from my lodge. Along the horizon of the prairie was the
golden glow of sunrise. Smoke was already rising from some
of the tepees where the women were cooking breakfast. In
the meadows many larks were singing and from the hills
came the wailing of coyotes.
At Mad Wolf's tepee I saw Gives-to-the-Sun seated out-
side, with her head bowed in prayer; she faced south, the
direction the tribe would move to the circle camp. As sacred
woman she could do no work; she had women assistants, the
wives of White Grass, Ear-Rings, Middle Calf, and Morning
Plume, who took charge of moving her tepee. The wife of
White Calf, as the "mother," looked after the wants of
Gives-to-the-Sun. All through the preparations for moving,
she kept praying — while placing the sacred travois before
248 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
the woman and loading it with the cases of tongues and the
ceremonial clothes — the elkskin dress of Gives-to-the-Sun
with beaded leggings and moccasins to match, her headdress
and robe of soft-tanned elkskin, and juniper for the altar.
She hitched Gives-to-the-Sun's own riding horse to the tra-
vois, which was painted red; also the saddle, harness, and all
of her equipment. Gives-to-the-Sun was so weakened by
fasting and by sitting day after day in the same position that
she had to be lifted upon her horse.
When it was time to break camp, the Indians watched the
lodge of Mad Wolf for the signal to move. As soon as they
saw the poles being removed from his tepee, the entire camp
became a scene of confusion. All the white lodges came down
together; quickly they were waving and flapping in the wind,
and then lay flat on the ground. The horses stood ready and
were soon loaded; and the people fell into line according to
their different bands.
Chief Mad Wolf mounted his horse while singing a chant.
He rode a short distance with White Calf by his side, and was
followed by the sacred woman and her "mother." They rode
in single file to a near-by hill; and there they waited for the
rest of the people to fall into line.
Then Mad Wolf and White Calf slowly led the way across
the open prairie. In the procession that followed were prom-
inent Indians with their families — White Grass the medi-
cine man, Ear-Rings the doctor, Heavy Breast, Bull Child,
Middle Calf, Double Runner, Three Bears, Morning Plume,
Bear Child, Blessed Weasel, Cream Antelope, and Medicine
Weasel. I rode with the Mad Wolf family and among his rel-
atives and friends.
It was still early morning when we started. The undu-
lating hills were glorious under a bright July sun. Western
meadow-larks were singing and I saw many wild flowers —
pink roses, purple asters, and yellow gaillardia with dark-
FORMING THE GREAT CIRCLE CAMP 249
brown centers. On my face the sun felt hot, but a fragrant
west breeze came from the mountains.
The plain we crossed stretched many miles in every direc-
tion and swept upwards towards the mountains, with snow-
capped peaks in the distance. Then we climbed to a broad
table-land, which was covered with tussocks of tough wiry
grass, and here and there the skulls and bleaching bones of
buffalo.
When we came to a range of grass-covered hills, I left my
place and rode ahead to the summit of a butte to see the line
pass. That was many years ago, but in memory, I can still see
clearly that primitive procession of Mad Wolf and his redskin
followers, as they slowly crossed the summit, their figures
sharply outlined against the deep blue sky.
Mad Wolf was in the lead, tall and erect, with head
thrown proudly back. The venerable head chief, White Calf,
rode by his side; he was older than Mad Wolf and was some-
what stooped, his long gray hair falling in waves over his
shoulders. The women followed with the sacred travois, its
poles crossed in front, high over the horse's head, and the ends
dragging behind on the ground. Then came a group of
women helpers in bright-colored clothing. They rode horses
with beaded ornaments on heads and breasts, having saddles
with deer antlers for pommels and beaded buckskin flaps for
the flanks.
In the van was a group of warriors with war bonnets of
eagle feathers; they carried weapons, also a sacred Lance and
a Shield. Their limbs were bare, and their clean copper skins
shone in the sunlight. They were a hardy lot, with lithe
muscular figures, riding gracefully, with an easy careless air
and the haughty military bearing of warriors.
Then came many travois laden with baggage, groups of
old men and women, children and young girls. The grand-
daughters of Mad Wolf and White Calf, Anatapsa and
250 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Dives-Under-Water, were both astride a pinto horse. Ana-
tapsa rode in front, her long black hair flying in the wind;
round her slender waist, a blanket of bright scarlet was
fastened by a belt of colored beads. She was pretty and
vivacious, continually striking the sides of their old saddle
horse with her small moccasined feet. All the time the hands
of both girls moved gracefully in the sign language, for
Dives-Under-Water was deaf and dumb.
I saw a travois with three old squaws, drawn by an aged
rawboned horse. When he refused to go farther, the old
women dismounted and beat him with ropes; but it was in
vain. He stood as if asleep, with eyes closed and head down,
oblivious to both their blows and curses.
Our procession wound in and out among the grassy hills,
until we came to the broad plain chosen by Mad Wolf for the
circle camp. It was covered with rich bunch grass, still
green from the rains of early summer. On the west side of
the plain was Willow Creek, a small trout stream, which was
lined with willows and marshy meadows. Toward the east
were the open plains, south, a range of grass-covered hills,
and north, a ridge with a huge rock near the center.
The Indians all waited while Mad Wolf and White Calf
chose the place for the sun lodge; and then the sacred woman
and her attendants dismounted. Mad Wolf and W 7 hite Calf
seated themselves beside the medicine bundles and smoked,
while the women helpers pitched the Mad Wolf tepee over
the place where the sacred bundles lay. They placed green
branches against the back, also the sacred travois — a sign
to the people that the fasting woman was inside and must
not be disturbed.
Around the lodge of Mad Wolf, the great circle camp was
formed according to bands or blood relatives. Each family
knew where their lodge belonged and took their accustomed
places, each band under a head man.
THREE CHIEFS, FOLLOWERS OF MAD WOLF
A LINE OF WARRIORS WITH WAR BONNETS
FORMING THE GREAT CIRCLE CAMP 251
Mad Wolf was the head man of the "Hard-Top-Knot"
band, which were on the north side of the camp. They were
called Hard-Top-Knots, because of the way they wore their
hair. Other bands were called — Small Robes, because of the
size of their robes; Fat Melters, who liked to eat melted fat;
Don't Laughs, Worm People, Skunks, Buffalo Chips, and
Lone Fighters. There was a band called All Chiefs, because
their men all acted like chiefs; Lone Eaters, who were selfish
and ate by themselves; Eat-Before-Others, because they
had their meals before others were ready.
Then Mad Wolf sent a messenger to the southern division
of the tribe, who were assembled under Running Crane many
miles to the south, calling on them to move to the circle
camp on Willow Creek.
Now Running Crane was a venerable chief, loved and re-
spected throughout the tribe. He was head man of the band
of Fat Melters, a wise counselor and one who acted as a
father to all the people. He was brave in war, yet of a gentle
and benevolent spirit. He gave freely to the poor, and was
always ready to help those who were in trouble. I found him
simple in his manners, modest, yet full of dignity.
In the afternoon of that same day, Running Crane
arrived with his followers of the southern division. Among
them were the war chiefs, Little Plume and Little Dog, Bear
Chief, Spotted Eagle, Big Moon, Shoots-in-the-Air, Black
Bear, Flat Tail, Strangling Wolf, and other prominent chiefs
with their families.
Throughout that entire day people continued to come, un-
til two thousand Indians were gathered together in the circle
camp. Families came from many other tribes of the north-
west, traveling long distances to attend — Mandans and
Sioux from the Dakotas, Flatheads, Pend d'Oreilles and Nez
Perces from across the Rockies. From the far north came
Sarcees and Crees, North Blackfoot, Bloods, and North
Piegans; also Bannocks and Crows from the south.
252 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
The big camp was over a mile in circumference, with the
lodges of the head men of different bands on the inside
circle; the small and inferior tepees of the poorer class were
relegated to the outskirts. ' .
Near the center of the camp, and apart from the others,
the powerful society of Brave Dogs had their lodges where
they kept their weapons and dance clothes. In their society
lodge they gathered to feast and dress for their ceremonies
and social dances, which took place at all times, both day and
night. They were the police of the tribal camp. The head
men looked to the Brave Dogs to enforce their orders. They
saw that all the tepees were in their proper places and the big
camp was symmetrically formed.
CHAPTER XXXVI
LIFE IN THE CIRCLE CAMP
The first day of the big camp, the Indians were all outside
their lodges, eager to see friends and on the lookout to greet
those who came from a distance.
Excitement was in the air. Packs of dogs ran barking
through the camp. Men and boys galloped over the hills,
shouting and singing, rounding up bands of horses and
driving them to water, picketing them in the meadows and
driving others to feed on the grassy hills. Women were at
work cooking, stacking lodge-poles or handling unwieldy
covers flapping in the wind.
My lodge was pitched in the band of the Hard-Top-
Knots, near Mad Wolf's tepee, where the ceremony of the
Sun Dance was taking place. I shared it with Little Creek
and Strikes-on-Both-Sides, my Indian sister, and their chil-
dren, also Tears-in-Her-Eyes, a niece of Mad Wolf's, a baby
of six months whom Strikes-on-Both-Sides adopted, because
the mother had died in childbirth.
Near by was the lodge of Morning Eagle, an aged war-
rior, the hero of many battles. He was so old and decrepit
he had to be lifted from his horse. Every morning before
sunrise, he wakened me, singing his medicine songs. He was
not musical and they all sounded alike; the only variation
being slight changes in the rhythm, or in the bird or ani-
mal calls, at the end of each song. On a cold and rainy day,
he crawled from his tepee to drive back the storm. In spite of
his age and rheumatism, he sat in the wind and rain, singing
and praying to the Maker of the Storm.
Another neighbor was Little Owl, who had a large family.
I watched them every day at their outside fire. His pretty
254 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
young wife, Coming Running, was tall and slender, with jet-
black hair, which hung in heavy braids below her waist.
Strong and healthy, she was always at work, with a flock
of small children about her. She had many cares — a babe
in arms and a small daughter with a dangerous abscess, and
two visitors to entertain from the Flathead tribe. Yet she was
always smiling and in a good humor. I did not hear her com-
plain or speak an angry word.
She had a little play-tepee for the children, made by a
blanket fastened round a cluster of poles. There they kept
their playthings — dolls with deerskin suits decorated with
real beads and feathers, dolls in baby cases, also little robes
and blankets and cooking utensils. The boys had bows and
arrows, and stilts made of cottonwood, crooked sticks for
hobbyhorses and wooden tops.
At the tepee of Running Fisher, I saw a pet coyote
puppy, and at another place a tame magpie sitting on top
of a lodge-pole. In former days these Indians had many pets
— hawks, eagles and cranes, beavers, wolves and antelope.
A chief had two grizzly bears for pets. They were so well
trained he could make them lie down with noses between
their paws.
Another Indian had a pet crane, which followed him every-
where, and was said to be very wise. The man and the crane
went so much together the people called them father and son.
Whenever he left the crane behind, it mourned and was un-
happy, going through the camp, even into tepees, until it
found its master and stood beside him.
I met an elderly man from the north, whose name was
Natosin (Sun Chief). He was over six feet in height and had
long gray hair falling over his shoulders. He was venerable
in appearance and his face had a kindly expression. He
occupied a small traveling-lodge and had two travois to
carry his baggage, one with a wicker frame of green branches
LIFE IN THE CIRCLE CAMP 255
built over the seat, to shield him and his aged wife from the
sun. When I asked him how it happened they came so far
to attend a Sun Dance, he said:
"Last winter I was very ill; the doctors said I was going
to die. But I made a vow to the Sun; if I recovered I would
attend the next Sun Dance, wherever it might be. In the
spring I heard that Mad Wolf and his wife were giving the
ceremony, so I came from the north to fulfill my vow and eat
one of the sacred tongues."
I saw two women tanning a deerhide stretched on the
ground, hair-side down, and held in place by wooden stakes.
They raked it with large tools of bone sharpened at one end.
Then they used an adzelike tool, removing the surface of the
hide in chips, and made it of uniform thickness. When they
had finished the flesh side, they turned the hide over and
scraped off the hair and left it to bleach and cure in the
sun.
At another lodge, I saw an aged woman with snow-white
hair seated in the doorway, soft-tanning a skin by sawing it
back and forth through a loop of twisted sinew fastened to a
pole. Then she whitened it by rubbing it with a piece of
fungus and the skin was ready for use.
The wife of Running Fisher was making decorated par-
fleches at the Otter Tepee, to be used as cases for packing
with horses. And at the Buffalo Tepee of Wolf Plume, I saw
a group of women at work, sewing a large lodge cover, which
was spread between them on the ground. They enjoyed their
work, smoking, gossiping, and feasting. The lodge covers were
so large one woman could not handle them alone. It was
the custom for a number of women to cooperate, making it
a social affair with light refreshments. When the women
finished at one lodge, they moved on to another.
A marked feature of Indian life was the superiority of the
women in all household arts; they were trained in them from
256 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
childhood. Though women performed most of the menial
work and men were the providers and defenders, the women
were not dissatisfied. A mother trained her daughter from
childhood in tanning skins and making them into clothes
and shelter; also in the knowledge of herbs and wild vege-
tables, which were used for eating and healing. Women
considered this their special vocation and allowed no inter-
ference from the men, who were unfitted for the work.
In front of the War Tepee of Running Rabbit were two
women drying and curing meat. They cut it into thin slices
and smoked it, hanging it on a scaffold of poles and left it
to cure in sun and wind. They made pemmican from choice
pieces of dried meat, pounding it with stone hammers and
mixing with crushed wild cherries, together with marrowfat
and tallow. For the marrow, they boiled cracked bones and
skimmed off the fat. They split tongues the long way and
dried them in the sun. The tongues were a great delicacy
together with beaver tails.
Meat was the chief article of diet for the Blackfoot; they
were unhappy without it. In former years, when wild game
was plentiful, they lived mostly on the flesh of buffalo and
the deer species, but of late years on cattle. Their favorite
way of preparing meat was by boiling, or in the form of soup.
Sometimes they ate dogs at ceremonial feasts; but this was
not a common custom.
In the circle camp, I saw preparations for a dog feast by a
band of visiting Assiniboine Indians. Near our lodge was
Eagle Child, who owned a litter of fat puppies. He had a
miniature tepee for them, where they slept and had shelter
from the hot sun. I saw them playing daily before my
door. One night all of the puppies mysteriously disappeared;
Eagle Child and none of his neighbors knew what had become
of them. But I finally solved the mystery. While walking
among the lodges of the Assiniboines, who were on the out-
DRYING AND SOFTENING A SKIN
FLESHING A HIDE
LIFE IN THE CIRCLE CAMP 257
skirts of the big camp, I saw their women cooking over an
outside fire. In the hot ashes were the remains of my puppy
neighbors with their hair singed off, while some were boiling
in a kettle. Nothing was wasted. At one side was a pile of
little puppy legs and paws to be used for soup.
CHAPTER XXXV11
PAINTED TEPEES AND PICTURE WRITING
The circle camp, on the prairies at the foot of the Rocky-
Mountains, had a strange and fascinating interest. Even
after many years, the scenes are still fresh in my mind. Night
and day there was generally something going on. Morning
Was the quietest time, when few people were stirring. Never
did the meadows look fresher or lovelier than in the golden
sunlight of a July morning. Flowers and grass were hung
With sparkling lace and shining gems of dew.
On my way to the stream for my morning bath, I waded
through masses of golden sunflowers and blue and purple
vetches up to my knees. Dim on the eastern horizon, where
the sun was rising, were the blue outlines of the Sweet
Grass Hills; and in the west the mighty frontier range of the
Rockies, with glistening glaciers and snowfields. In the long
grass I saw a prairie hare, a pair of kit foxes, and ground
squirrels running about, chirping in the sunlight. Along the
shore of the lake were killdeer, long-billed curlew, and spotted
sandpipers.
All the birds were singing, robins, yellow-throats, and lovely
mountain bluebirds; horned larks were fluttering and trilling,
hovering like butterflies against the deep blue sky. Along
the stream were thickets of willows and snowberry bushes in
flower, and in marshy places blue flags, scarlet painted-cups,
and blue-eyed grasses.
After a plunge in the cold water of the brook, I went
back to my lodge and had breakfast; looked after my horses,
watered them and changed their picket places, then sat out-
side in the sunlight.
Health is a wonderful thing. On lovely summer mornings,
PAINTED TEPEES AND PICTURE WRITING 259
when nature was at her best over the prairie, my heart felt
light and I was happy; the civilized world was easily forgot-
ten. With my horses, cameras, and notebooks, I could always
occupy myself and had plenty of work to do.
In the circle camp I counted three hundred and fifty lodges
— thirty of them were Painted Tepees with symbolic deco-
rations. They belonged to the head men of different bands and
were pitched in prominent places on the inner circle. The
owners were proud of them. The ceremonies that went with
them gave a social prestige and a good standing in the tribe.
At first it was hard to find out anything about the Painted
Tepees — about their symbolic declarations, ceremonies, and
the legends of their origin. The owner believed that the di-
vulging of the secrets weakened their supernatural power.
Each Painted Tepee had a sacred bundle and a separate
ceremony. The pictures on the tepee cover and the cere-
mony that went with them could not be separated. They
came originally through a dream and belonged exclusively to
the founder, who might transfer them to another; but no one
could copy them. They were believed to have protective
power for the owners and their families. Both men and women
made vows to them in time of danger and in behalf of the sick.
If the tepee cover with its decorations wore out, a new one
with the same pictures took its place. But the old one was
sacrificed to the Sun — destroyed by spreading upon the sur-
face of a lake and sinking it under the water.
I learned about an Otter Tepee by living in one for a week,
watching the owner in his ceremonies and his care of it. The
supernatural power came to the founder in a dream, when
he visited the home of an otter. The top of this Otter Tepee
was painted black, with a yellow cross at the back for the
Morning Star. Round the center were four male and four
female otters; above the otters red bands representing ripples
on the surface of the water, which an otter makes while
260 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
swimming; and at the bottom of the tepee, a broad red band
for the earth, surmounted by triangular figures for mountains.
The owner had a large otter-skin, which he sometimes
took from his sacred bundle and hung from a pole over the
tepee, to float in the wind like a flag, also a drum and a num-
ber of bird and animal skins. These he kept in a rawhide
case, which hung from a tripod outside the tepee in good
weather, but were always brought inside at night, or during
a storm.
For the ceremony, he held the sacred bundle in the smoke
of burning sweet grass, then laid it on the grass. When he
opened his bundle and took out the contents, he sang songs
and prayed. He painted his body yellow to represent the
shore of a lake, with red marks for otter trails and tracks in
the soft earth. A circle on his forehead stood for the home of
the otter, another on his breast for a hole in the river bank
through which the otter passes.
In the tribal camp, I counted five different Otter Tepees;
also two Crow Tepees, two Eagle, and one each of the Snake,
Water Animal, Big Rock, Deer, Elk, Mountain Sheep, Ante-
lope, Horse, Rainbow, Thunder, Snow, Pine Tree, Bear,
Buffalo Head, beside many others.
The owners of Painted Tepees guarded them jealously, be-
cause of their supernatual power and value to the tribe. It
was long before I could purchase one. But I finally secured
an Otter Tepee, because the owner lost faith in it. His wife
and children had all died and he no longer believed in its
protective power.
I saw Wolf Tail, a son of the head-chief White Calf, take
over the Big-Stripe Tepee. He made a vow to purchase it
during the winter. At the time of the circle camp, he went
to Wipes-His-Eyes, the owner, and made known his vow.
Now Wipes-His-Eyes did not want to sell; and his wife and
children were sorry to give up their comfortable home. But
PAINTED TEPEES AND PICTURE WRITING 261
because of the vow, they dared not refuse. So Wolf Tail
took down their tepee and pitched it in another place in the
circle camp.
The first lodge I owned had no pictures on the cover.
Then I knew nothing about Painted Tepees — their rules
and regulations. I wanted mine decorated, so I went to Medi-
cine Weasel, a friend of Mad Wolf; he had a reputation as
an artist and was willing to do the work. But, when I told
him to paint otters on my tepee, he was frightened. He said
it might cause his death; he had no right to use the otter de-
sign and asked that he be released from painting my tepee
under any circumstances.
Then I went to White Grass, the medicine man, who was
shrewd and more resourceful. He was not willing to paint
the otter design, but found a way out of the difficulty. He
proposed my using the Pine Tree, saying he could paint that
design, because he had dreamed it himself while sleeping
under a pine tree in the mountains.
So White Grass painted my lodge and made it into the
Pine Tree Tepee. It had a black top for the night sky, the
Morning Star in blue, also the constellations of the Great
Bear and the Pleiades on both sides. At the bottom was a
red band for the earth, on which were white discs for fallen
stars, triangular projections for mountains and a yellow pine-
cone at the back to symbolize the Pine Tree.
I also had a small traveling-lodge, which my friend Big
Eyes gave me because I was kind to his children. It was
decorated with pictures of both war and hunting — events
which had happened in his own career. There were figures
of men and animals and Indian camps in colors, red, yellow,
and black, an attack by a band of hostile Sioux, a hand-to-
hand conflict of Big Eyes with the chief of the Sioux, also
battles with Cree Indians and with the Crows, and an attack
they made on a settlement of white men.
262 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
On the north side of my traveling-lodge was the picture
of a fight, which Big Eyes had with a band of five grizzly
bears in the Rocky Mountains — a mother bear with two
large cubs and two other grizzlies. In one of the scenes he
was plunging his knife into the breast of the mother grizzly,
and in another she was tearing him with her teeth and claws;
and then she left him for dead to attack his horse.
Two of the most prominent tepees on the inner circle
were the Yellow Buffalo and Black Buffalo — the oldest of
all the Painted Tepees; and they were believed to have the
greatest supernatural power; their bundles and the secrets
of their ceremonies had been handed down through many
years. Their founders were two warriors, who once looked
down into a river and saw two lodges with decorations. Both
had black tops, on which were white discs for stars, and a
black band round the bottom with fallen stars; each had a
pair of buffaloes painted about the center, using yellow for
one tepee and black for the other, and the skins of buffalo
calves for door-flaps. Their rituals were associated with
power to call the buffalo in time of need or starvation.
There were taboos against allowing dogs to come inside,
the fire must not die out, the door must not be allowed
to stand open, nor should any one strike the side of the
tepee.
The founder of the Snow Tepee was caught on the open
plains in a bad winter blizzard. He lay for days under a
deep drift, and had a dream in which the Maker of Storms
and Blizzards gave him the decorations and ceremony. The
Snow Tepee was not often pitched in summer camps. It was
a bad-weather-lodge and was believed to have power to
bring storms and cold weather. It had a yellow top, like the
color of the sky at sunrise, with a cluster of seven stars for
the constellation of the Great Bear on the north side, the
direction blizzards come from, and Pleiades on the other. At
PAINTED TEPEES AND PICTURE WRITING 263
the back was a red disc for the sun, with a buffalo tail at-
tached. Under the yellow top, and at the four sides where
stood the four main lodge-poles, were four claws to repre-
sent the Thunder Bird. At the bottom was a yellow band for
the earth, with green discs, the ice color. On both sides of the
door were horse tails for good luck; and bunches of crow
feathers, with small bells attached to tinkle in the wind, were
fastened to the tops of the ear-poles. Inside no drumming
was allowed, the fire must not go out, nor moccasins hung up;
dogs were not allowed to enter, nor the tepee cover to be
raised.
Medicine Owl was the owner of a large Snake Tepee,
with black top for the night sky and the Morning Star and
constellations of stars on both sides. Two large serpents
were painted round the middle, with the male serpent on
the south side and the female on the north. Above the snakes
were four red bands for their trails and their den at the back
of the tepee. No bones should be broken inside, lest the
owner's horses go lame.
The Crow Tepee had a broad red band around its center,
with a procession of crows holding pieces of meat in their
bills. A buffalo head was painted over the door; at the back
was a row of buffalo tails; and at the top a cross for the Moth,
the Sleep Bringer — a symbol that the tepee had come to the
owner in a dream. In the legend of its origin, the founder
slept one night in the Rocky Mountains, where great flocks of
crows came to roost. In his dream the crows gave their super-
natural power which went with the tepee.
There was another Crow Tepee, which had a strip of
fringed buckskin round the center part for a trail. A row of
crows were walking in single file towards the front of the lodge,
holding pieces of red flannel in their bills for meat. Under
the top of this tepee were red and yellow bands, to represent
the color of clouds at sunrise.
264 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
The Thunder Tepee was believed to bring fair weather.
Its ceremony gave protection from storms and had power to
clear the sky. Near the ground and at the back was painted
a large yellow disc; the north half dotted with small blue
spots for hail, the south half with yellow spots for rain. Near
the top of this disc the Thunder Bird was represented with
outstretched wings and flashes of lightning coming from its
beak. At the time of the first thunder in the spring, a cere-
mony and feast were given.
The Rainbow Tepee had a red band at the bottom, sur-
mounted by figures representing the heads of enemies. At
the back was a figure for the founder of the tepee, with a pipe
in one hand and a shield in the other, which he held as an
offering to the Sun. The rainbow was represented by two
curved lines in the form of an arch, and a red band for the
color of clouds at sunrise.
The Beaver Tepee had a beaver painted at the top, with its
chief organs in different colors — the kidneys, liver, brain,
and life-line. Under the black top, with the groups of star
constellations, were four bands to represent beaver trails.
A ceremony was given at the end of the winter, the time
beavers are accustomed to leave their winter dens.
The Big Stripe Tepee had a broad red band round the
center. Its founder said it had been given to him by both the
beaver and the otter. On the red band were figures of six
otters going towards their home in the river bank. Their
den was painted in red over the door. Inside this tepee was
a string of buffalo hoofs, which rattled whenever any one
entered.
The Water Monster Tepee came from the Sun. It had two
serpent-like figures in red and blue round the center, with
yellow and green plumes extending from their heads. Fig-
ures were painted on the back, to represent the crescent moon
and the Morning Star; and on its altar were symbols for the
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PAINTED TEPEES AND PICTURE WRITING 265
Moon, Morning Star, Mistake-Morning-Star, sun dogs and
the rays of the sun.
There were two Eagle Tepees, one for the bald-headed
eagle, with red top and yellow band for the color of the sky
and clouds at sunrise; the other had a pair of eagles and a
band round the center to represent a river. The Deer Tepee
had figures of a buck deer and a doe, with two red bands
for deer trails and hoof marks, with mountains at the
bottom.
The Mountain Sheep Tepee had a procession of rams and
ewes going from the rear of the lodge towards the door; at the
bottom were triangular figures for mountains, and under the
black top four red bands for mountain sheep trails. There was
also an Elk Tepee, another covered with stars; and a Big
Rock Tepee, representing a sacred rock on the prairies.
But the most interesting of all these decorated lodges was
the War Tepee, covered with pictures of war and adventure.
It belonged to an old chief named Running Rabbit; the men
who had been associated with him on raids and hunts were
also joint owners. The records represented the deeds of the
owner and his nearest friends. Some of the songs they used in
the ceremony were their individual war songs.
At the back of the War Tepee was the figure of a person
holding a pipe, which was symbolic of the vision of the foun-
der. On the left side of the door was a circle enclosing four
figures surrounded by many others, to represent Running
Rabbit as leader with three companions, standing in a pit
and holding back a number of enemies. A series of crossed
lines, representing picket stakes to which horses were tied,
recorded the capture of a number of horses. There was one
symbol for the number of times Running Rabbit was leader
of war expeditions, and another for his being detailed as
scout. The sign for scout was a curved line to represent the
waiting warriors; and a zigzag line going off, to show his
266 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
irregular course while scouting, in order to hide the position
of his followers from the enemy.
Other brave deeds recorded were the cutting loose of a
horse picketed close to the lodge of a Gros Ventre Indian
and a dog barking; the enemy pursuing and their narrow
escape; the seizing of a gun from the hand of an enemy; also
the taking of a war bonnet, a lance, and a shield; there was the
picture of a brave warrior who saved the lives of two wounded
comrades, carrying one on his own horse and leading the horse
with the other; their wounds were marked by dashes of red
for blood; another picture showed Running Rabbit taking
part in the making of a treaty with the white men.
In these pictures, the travois mark was used to indicate
the direction taken by a war party; stops by day and travel-
ing by night were marked by different colors — yellow for
day and black for night. Mountains were marked, also lakes,
streams, and rivers; a long crooked line ending in a fork repre-
sented a river; a red mark in the bend of this river showed
where a fight took place with a war party of Crow Indians.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
A NATIVE DOCTOR AND HIS PATIENT
One evening I crossed the meadow and climbed the ridge on
the north side of the plain to the big rock, which commanded
a broad view of the circle camp, the billowy hills stretching
away to the horizon, north, south, east, and in the west the
snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains. The sun was setting
and the birds were calling. High over the mountains the sky
was like a golden sea with many tints, broken into bays and
inlets by cloud promontories, in purple and somber red.
The lodges of the big camp were a ghostly white in the
fading twilight; and soon became illuminated by bright in-
side fires, until the camp looked like an enormous group
of colored Japanese lanterns, the flickering lights of many
outside fires resembling fireflies in a summer's dusk.
From my lofty seat on the hill, I heard the clear notes of a
young brave singing a love song to his sweetheart, asking her
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to come forth to meet him. He waited in a meadow just out-
side the camp, until she came with her water pails; and they
went together to the stream — the common meeting place
for Indian lovers.
Then, when the moon rose over the plains, the night-
268 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
singers appeared. They rode around the camp circle, singing
to an accompaniment of jingling bells, keeping time with the
slow jog-trot of their horses and giving shrill war-whoops at
the end of each song.
From different lodges came the sound of drumming, where
dances and ceremonies were taking place. In one tepee the
Brave Dog Society was giving a dance, shaking their rattles
and singing; in another, a band of young men were singing
and beating drums as a prayer for their Grass Dance on the
morrow. And from Mad Wolf's lodge I heard the sound of
solemn chanting by many voices in unison, both men and
women, accompanied by rhythmical beating of rattles on the
ground.
After dark I went down from the hill and entered the camp.
But I soon lost my way; the plain was level with no paths to
guide. The big Indian camp was over a mile in circumference
and at night all the tepees looked alike. Then I met Rattler,
the doctor, and his wife, First Strike, with drums and sacks
of roots and herbs, on their way to visit a patient. I joined
them and they took me to the lodge of Stuyimi, an old
friend of mine who had been ill for many months.
We found the patient lying on a couch of robes and blan-
kets. His wife and two daughters were seated on another
couch across the lodge. Rattler and I took places at the
back of the lodge, while his wife, First Strike, joined the
women. I was no sooner seated than a small coyote puppy
crawled from the blankets at my side. It had a long pointed
nose and bright eyes, and his coat was soft and fluffy. I
put forth my hand to stroke it. Like a flash it snapped
viciously and narrowly missed; then snarled and showed his
fangs, until one of the girls called him by name, "Apis"
(Wolf), when he ran to her, hopping on three legs and dragging
his hind quarters, after the manner of coyotes, and soon fell
asleep in her arms.
A NATIVE DOCTOR AND HIS PATIENT 269
They also had a pet dog named "Sa-sak-si" (Freckle Face).
To show off his tricks, one of the girls said: " Ai im skotos"
(laugh at him); the dog lifted his upper lip for a smile and
wagged his tail. Then she called: "Iks katsit" (watch it),
and the dog sat glaring at the door.
All this time the women were talking and gossiping and
eating dried meat and service berries, while old Rattler
waited in silence; he wanted to begin his doctoring. He
was a large man, over six feet in height, with massive head
and long gray hair, which fell in waves over his broad shoul-
ders. He was genial and good-natured. Every one liked
Rattler. He feigned an air of confidence in his own wisdom
and power, which helped him with his patients and added
greatly to his success as a doctor.
Finally, as a hint to the women, he took the cover from
his medicine drum and began to warm it over the fire. It was
painted yellow to represent a clear sky at sunset, with a red
ball in the center for the sun. Then he signed for his wife to
make ready; she left the other women and put four round
stones to heat in the fire.
Never had I been allowed to see an Indian doctor at work;
spectators were believed to weaken his power; even the
members of a patient's family were expected to withdraw. I
started to go with the others, when Rattler signed for me to
remain. He asked me to join with him in the songs; it would
give him greater power and would help him in his doctoring.
I agreed to sing, on condition that he would allow me to
bring my cameras next day, and make pictures of him doc-
toring his patient. Rattler hesitated; it was a strange re-
quest, and his wife, too, was afraid it might bring bad luck
to their patient. But the sick man interceded in my behalf;
he wanted me to take the pictures, that I might be able to
show them to the white men in civilization. He persuaded
Rattler; and thus it happened that I saw the doctoring of a
patient and secured a set of pictures.
27o OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Now an Indian has the same confidence in the native
doctor that a child of civilization has in the family physician.
Susceptible to mental impressions, the Indian has faith in the
methods of his doctor. The doctor inspires in his patient a
feeling of confidence and hope of recovery, which acts favor-
ably upon the body. The weird songs, incantations and drum-
ming of the medicine man, are often more effective for the
Indian than the skilled white doctor whom he does not trust.
With the medicine men, suggestion had a great power for
healing. Some of them practiced in good faith; others were
frauds and quacks, in about the same proportion as in civi-
lized communities. Many of them were inspired and had
faith in their art. They relieved suffering and held positions
of influence in their tribe. Thus modern science had its origin
in the blind gropings of primitive doctors and medicine men.
Rattler and his wife stripped the patient to his waist. He
lay on a couch, with his head against the back-rest. The
woman doctored first, while Rattler and I sat together at
the back of the lodge to help by our singing.
She took some roots and herbs from an old sack and
brewed them over the fire for a hot drink. She burned sweet
pine as incense, holding both hands in the rising smoke and
praying to her helper, the Buffalo Spirit, that he would give
her power to heal. She kneeled by the patient's side, holding
her hands in the sweet smoke and laying them on his body
and feeling him gently with her fingers; she said the trouble
was in his chest, and was bad on the left side. Then she took
a hot stone from the fire, and placing it in a kettle of water,
prayed:
"Sun, pity and help me.
Listen, Sun, to what I say.
Help this sick man, that he may live to old age.
Take heed and pity him, for the sake of wife and children.
May they live long.
May they all be happy and see many snows."
A NATIVE DOCTOR AND HIS PATIENT 271
Then Rattler signed that it was time for us to sing. He
raised his medicine drum and beat slowly and rhythmically.
Holding his head back and with eyes closed, he began to sing,
while I joined with him. In the meantime, his wife was going
through dancing motions on her knees, moving her body in
time with the beating of the drum and joining with us in a
chant.
Her power to heal came through the medium of a dream.
A buffalo bull appeared and said: "You will profit from my
body. Behold! I give these herbs whereby you can heal the
sick."
In her doctoring, First Strike imitated the actions of her
dream-buffalo, the way she saw it doctoring another buffalo.
She covered herself with a buffalo robe and knelt beside the
patient. She pawed the ground, hooked with her head, and
imitated the sounds of a buffalo. Then she breathed on a
piece of buffalo-skin to give it power; she held it towards the
patient, swaying her body in time with the beating of the
drum. She laid the buffalo-skin on a hot stone and then
placed it quickly on the left side of the sick man, the place
where the trouble lay. She put her hands into the root medi-
cine; she touched a hot stone with the wet tips of her fingers
and, with a quick movement, placed them on the body of her
patient. In this way she made hot applications on both
sides of his body, using three hot stones, one after the other.
When First Strike had finished her doctoring, Rattler made
ready. With his massive figure and benign countenance, his
long gray hair in waves over his shoulders, he was an imposing
doctor, one to inspire confidence in a sick person. Rattler did
not make use of herbs or roots. In his dream an eagle had
bestowed upon him power to heal, directing him how to
proceed and showing him the motions to use.
First, Rattler beat loudly on his medicine drum. He
signed to me to join him in a song and swayed his body in
272 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
time with the drumming. Then he used an eagle wing,
imitating the flying of an eagle; he beat the wing against the
body of his patient — the way he saw the eagle do in his
dream. He sprayed yellow paint through the hollow wing-
bones of eagles, first over his arms and breast, then over his
entire body, and prayed:
" Listen ! I beseech you, the power in my dream.
Help me cure this sick man.
Do not deceive me.
You said this was the way to doctor.
Here is the wing; I use it right.
Sun, help me, pity me.
Help me cure this sick person."
But Stuyimi did not recover. One night he called to his
wife that the ghost of his dead father was outside the lodge,
and said:
"Listen! He says he has been waiting for me and it is
time for me to go with him to the Sand Hills."
After that the sick man kept seeing the ghost all the time.
He said it did not go away; and he died that same night.
For burial they dressed him in his best clothes — a suit
of soft-tanned deerskin, with leggings and moccasins to match.
They wrapped the body in a robe and placed it on the sum-
mit of a high ridge — his favorite place to sit and dream.
The Blackfoot believed that the spirit went eastward to
the Sand Hills, a barren country on the plains. It was in-
habited by the ghosts of people and animals, which exist to-
gether as in this life.
They placed their dead upon scaffolds in trees, on the
summit of a hill, or in a death lodge hidden away among the
trees. The dead were clothed according to their station in life,
believing they went to the Sand Hills in their burial clothes.
Often the things a person valued most were left beside the
grave. Sometimes the best horses of a chief were killed, that
they might go with him to the Spirit Land.
Beating the Medicine Drum and singing
Spraying Yellow Paint through the Wing-Bone of an Eagle
RATTLER DOCTORING STUYIMI
A NATIVE DOCTOR AND HIS PATIENT 273
In mourning they denied and tortured themselves to excite
the pity of the Great Spirit, to show their indifference to
pain and to manifest their high regard for the dead. During
the time of mourning, which lasted several months, they
went daily at sunset and sunrise to a lonely hill, to weep
and cut themselves with arrow-points and knives. As a sign
of deep mourning, they cut off a ringer, generally the first
joint of the small finger. Sometimes they made the tepee
smaller to bring discomfort to all the family. When a
prominent chief died, his family would place their lodge at
a distance from the others. Parents who lost a son led his
saddle horse through the camp and made public lamenta-
tions. People in mourning wore old clothes; they gave up
painting themselves and all ornaments. They kept away
from public gatherings, dances, and religious ceremonies.
Sometimes they wore neither moccasins nor leggings; they
cut off the manes of their saddle horses, but they had a su-
perstition against the cutting of their horses' tails.
No Chief, a prominent man, mourned so deeply at the
death of his brother that he journeyed several hundred miles
to the place where he was killed and brought the body home.
After that he carried the skeleton in a rawhide case wherever
he went, and had it buried beside him when he died.
It was customary for a man and his wife to give their
sacred bundles into the care of another couple who were
expected to make new clothes and give ceremonies for the
couple in mourning. Finally friends of the mourners came
and tried to make them forget their sorrow, and to persuade
them to return to their ordinary life.
CHAPTER XXXIX
DANCE OF THE HAIR-PARTERS (GRASS DANCE)
One morning Elk Horn, the herald, galloped through the
camp, holding aloft a standard with eagle feathers along its
staff. He called in a loud voice that the Grass Dancers
would hold their ceremony, and invited every one to come.
He wore a deerskin suit, a beaded breast ornament of many
strands, and a blanket draped about his waist. His horse
was painted, and decorated with clusters of feathers and
sleigh bells; and there were coyote tails hanging from his
stirrups.
The Grass Dancers, or Hair-Parters, was an association of
young men. They held their meetings through the winter
months, and a public ceremony at the time of the Sun Dance.
Any one who had a suitable dance outfit could take part.
They had four unmarried women as members, who rode
around the camp with them at night and helped them in
their singing.
Their drummers opened the ceremony by seating them-
selves where the dance would take place. They beat the
drums steadily and in perfect rhythm — the signal for the
people to come together.
Soon the dancers began to assemble. Some were naked,
except for loin-cloths and beaded dance moccasins, and
had their faces and bodies variously painted. Others wore
fine costumes, with war shirts of soft-tanned buckskin,
which were decorated with colored beads and trimmed over
the shoulders and legs with black-tipped ermine tails. They
had breast ornaments and necklaces of beads, of elk teeth
and grizzly bear claws. They carried tomahawks, bows and
arrows, and rattles made of bunches of deer and elk hoofs;
DANCE OF THE HAIR-PARTERS 275
and wore war bonnets of eagle feathers and headdresses made
of colored horsehair and porcupine-skins, caps of otter and
mink skins, which were wound about their heads and had
the tails hanging down behind. They had skin ankle-bands
with small bells attached, and strings of sleigh bells strapped
about their legs and hanging from their waists.
The dancers sat in a circle, with the drummers in the cen-
ter, having large cowhide drums of different colors. They
used single drumsticks with which they beat with spirit; they
sang rhythmically and in perfect unison. In the dance the
drumming was a continued booming that did not break,
growing faster and faster, until it ended suddenly with a
crash and in a chorus of shrill war-whoops. Such was the
music the Hair-Parters had for their ceremony.
Some of the dancers had distinguishing marks; and their
movements had meanings, which an outsider would not un-
derstand. One warrior wore leggings with eight parallel
black lines, to show the number of men he had killed in
battle. Another had a war shirt covered with marks, repre-
senting picket stakes with short ropes attached, to show the
number of horses he had captured from enemies, cutting
them loose at the risk of his life. Another, who was a noted
taker of horses, carried a painted horse carved from wood.
Others had long whips, feathered wands and fringed bags
decorated with colored beads and porcupine quills.
They had one dance figure, in which only warriors took
part; those who had escaped after being surrounded in battle.
Another dance was for men who had never turned away
from a fight; and another in which only generous men took
part — those who were known to give freely of their posses-
sions.
When an eagle feather fell in the dance from the war bon-
net of Night Gun, he did not try to recover it himself; this
might bring him bad luck. He chose Bear Chief, a famous
276 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
warrior, to pick it up. Then, led by Bear Chief, the dancers
circled three times round the feather; the fourth time, Bear
Chief took the feather; and, after recounting four of his
brave deeds in battle, he gave it back to the owner.
There was a special dance for those who had been wounded
in battle. Wolf Eagle, a warrior with only one arm, danced
with spirit and abandon, carrying in his single hand the dec-
orated bone of his missing arm. Another dancer, "Behind-
the-Ears" by name, held his rifle ready to shoot. In battle
he had once made a good shot and hit an enemy behind the
ear; in this dance, he went through similar motions to recall
that deed.
The leader of the Hair-Parters was Black Weasel. His
seat in the dance circle was marked by a wand decorated with
eagle feathers and driven into the ground. He wore a war
bonnet of selected eagle feathers and a soft-tanned suit of
deerskin trimmed with ermine tails. Across his shoulders and
along arms and legs were broad strips of quill work.
Black Weasel opened the dance by moving about the
circle, striking the seated warriors with his feathered wand
to make them join in and whipping any who lagged behind.
It was also his duty to look out for strangers, and to see that
women and children had seats.
Among the spectators was Nokoa, a small boy with his
mother. He wore a fringed buckskin suit and a beaded
necklace of many strands. During one of the figures his
father, Wolverine, took him into the dance. At first he was
abashed before so many people, but soon forgot himself and
danced fearlessly, his moccasined feet keeping time with the
rhythmic beating of drums, swaying his small body like the
warriors and aiming a stick for a gun.
The Grass Dance lasted throughout the day and ended
after sunset with a feast. During intermissions, they had
speeches and stories of brave deeds in war. Mountain Chief
DANCE OF THE HAIR-PARTERS 277
stood up and told how he used to dance in former days. He
urged the Hair-Parters to be generous and to give many
horses to visitors, especially those who came from a distance.
In his hand he held a stick which represented a horse. He
crossed the circle and handed the stick to a visiting Sioux
Indian. Then from the spectators came shouts of approval;
and an aged chief sang: "Good man, to give away your horse
so generously."
During the feast, the venerable chief, Running Crane,
stood up and spoke, saying:
"My children, I am glad in my heart to see you gathered
here, the young men all dressed in fine clothes. Only at the
Sun Dance, which comes once a year, can we have a good
time together. Our Great Grandfather (President of the
United States) should not put an end to our Sun Dance;
it makes our people happy and we do no harm to white men.
Let the old people restrain our young men, that we may
return to our homes without trouble. That is all. My name is
Running Crane."
On this same day, and in a different part of the camp,
were sham battles of former fights with hostile Indian tribes
— dances by warriors on foot and mounted on horses. Their
functions were to excite the people, both old and young, and
to stir up enthusiasm for war and make young men eager to
fight.
One of these sham battles on foot enacted a fight between
Crows and Blackfoot. The warriors, representing the Crow
Indians, were led by Flat Tail; and the Blackfoot by Little
Dog, their war chief. They advanced in line with rifles,
beating drums and singing war songs. When the waiting
warriors fired their guns, some of the enemy fell and the rest
retreated. Then the visitors scalped the dead amid cheers and
war-whoops from the spectators.
The horseback dances were spectacular sham battles by
278
OLD INDIAN TRAILS
mounted men. In former days, warriors took part before
starting on the warpath, to stimulate their courage. The
mounted men were dressed in war clothes and had their
horses painted with war signs — pictures of weapons, guns,
bows and arrows; a red hand stood for blood lust and red
marks for men wounded or killed in battle. They wore head-
dresses of eagle feathers and horned bonnets, and carried
war bundles — the sacred War Bridle, the Lance, and the
Shield. They used decorated saddles and bridles and tied up
the tails of their horses; and had strings of bells strapped to
their legs and around the necks of their horses.
I saw a group of men and women gathered in a circle,
drumming and singing, waiting for the horsemen to come.
Soon the riders appeared on the summit of a hill, where they
stood for a while in sight of the people; then rode down at a
gallop in single file, with Little Plume their war chief in the
lead. First they rode round the inner circle with shrill war-
whoops, and came to the place where the people were gath-
ered. They circled round and round, shouting and firing their
rifles. Then they gave horseback dances, reenacting scenes of
former battles. One band rode at full speed against another,
maneuvering with war cries and shooting. Then they
formed in line, and with Little Plume in the lead, marched
slowly through the camp, with rifles in position, singing a
song of victory and holding aloft their sacred Lance.
War cry
DANCE OF THE HAIR-PARTERS 279
Just outside the circle camp was the race track, a level
stretch along a low range of hills. The head of the course
lay towards the snow-capped Rockies and extended east-
ward toward the open plains. On one side were grass-
covered prairies, decked with lovely wild flowers; and on
the other the outskirts of the big camp with its smoke-
colored tepees.
For the most exciting race of that day, a large crowd of
Indians gathered at the finish; they wagered horses, robes,
and blankets. The young riders were naked, wearing only
loin-cloths and moccasins. They rode wild broncos with-
out saddles, using rawhide ropes for bridles. At the start I
heard shouts, and saw a cloud of dust moving swiftly. The
riders came, lying low along the backs of their broncos and
beating them with rawhide whips. A famous race horse
named "Bull Shoe" won, amid shouts from the throng of
spectators.
Then Elk Horn, the herald, rode through the camp and
announced that White Grass, the medicine man, would take
out his Dancing Pipe; he invited every one to come to the
ceremony.
Now the Dancing Pipe was the oldest and most powerful
of the medicine pipes. Many came to follow it, both men
and women, dressed in their best, each carrying some sacred
object to which they prayed. A throng soon filled the lodge of
White Grass and crowded about the outside. They watched
him remove the wrappings from the pipe, one by one, each
with a different song, until at last he held up the long stem.
It was wrapped with fur and decorated with eagle feathers
and bright-colored plumes.
White Grass lifted the Pipe reverently, holding it to the
north, south, east, and west; and prayed to the Sun for all the
people. Two chiefs arose and recounted their brave deeds in
war; and, after that, four men sounded their drums.
280
OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Then White Grass stood up and held the Pipe in front of
him. He danced slowly from the lodge, men and women and
even children following in single file, until there was a long
line of dancing Indians moving in and out among the tepees.
White Grass and the four drummers led the dancers, beating
their drums and singing the songs of the Dancing Pipe. They
moved once around the big camp circle and then back to the
lodge of White Grass.
Another crowd gathered at the tepee of Night Gun, to
see some women choose their men in the Kissing Dance.
The men stood in line on one side of the lodge, the women on
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the other. When the lines came close together, the man who
was chosen put a blanket over his head and the woman's,
and they kissed each other while dancing between the lines.
For this favor, the man had to make the woman a present,
generally a blanket, though sometimes other gifts were added.
But a tragedy put an end to the Kissing Dance. There was
a married woman who liked the dance so much she neglected
home and children. When her husband found out that she
kept choosing a former lover, he came to the dance lodge
and killed her.
I saw a band of visiting Sioux warriors parade on horse-
ELK HORN, HERALD OF THE BRAVE DOG SOCIETY
He announced their orders and warnings through the camp
DANCE OF THE HAIR-PARTERS
281
back, singing a Celebration Song. Lone Dog was their leader;
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also Red Boy, Bear Paw, and White Eagle. They wore feath-
ered shields fastened to their backs and carried rifles and
feathered wands. Their horses were painted and had bunches
of feathers attached to manes and tails. They also had head
ornaments and beaded flaps of rawhide, which were fastened
to their stirrups. While parading the camp circle, they sang:
"Oh, Blackfoot! In the past we heard you boast,
You would never live like white men. -
But we see you now,
With few of your fine Indian clothes left."
According to an old custom, these visiting Sioux warriors
stopped to sing at the lodges of prominent men who gave
them presents and food. After going once around the camp
circle, they stopped at the lodge of Ahkiona, who gave a
Pipe Ceremony for them. A few years before, while visiting
the Sioux in North Dakota, they gave him a Medicine Pipe;
and now they were going to take it home.
In the evening a party of warriors came to the lodge of the
head-chief to sing a Wolf Song, according to an ancient war
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282
OLD INDIAN TRAILS
custom. They stood in a circle holding a large rawhide be-
tween them, upon which they beat with sticks. They sang
no words, but gave the wolf howl at intervals. Their wives
and sweethearts who stood near did not sing, but joined in
the wolf howls. In former days, the Blackfoot sang the
Wolf Song before starting to war or on a hunt, in the belief
that the spirit of the wolf, the craftiest of all wild animals,
would lead and inspire them with his cunning. To express
the desire of the singer, the song always ended with the
wolf call, because a wolf always howls when it hunts.
That same night, I was wakened by a dog fight close to our
lodge. Quickly other dogs came and joined in a mass fight,
with barking, yelps and snarls. Then hundreds of dogs in all
parts of the circle camp, roused by the noise of the fight,
united in a deep-throated and mournful howl — a weird
sound, like the wailing of a great wolf-pack.
When their dismal chorus died away, I went outside the
lodge. It was a glorious night; the sky was clear and a full
moon rising over the prairie. All about me were white tepees
with their picturesque clusters of tapering poles. In the
west a brilliant planet was sinking behind the dim outlines of
the Rocky Mountains. The camp was throbbing with life.
On all sides I heard singing and drumming. The Sioux warri-
ors were again making their rounds, singing a Traveling Song.
Then Red Fox and his sweetheart passed, singing in unison
a Riding Song. The girl sat in front of her lover, wearing his
DANCE OF THE HAIR-PARTERS 283
war bonnet. His robe of soft-tanned elkskin flowed grace-
fully back as they rode. Some of the night-singers were
riding, mounted two on a horse, singing and marking time
with clusters of sleigh bells, in perfect time with the slow
jog-trot of their horses.
It was an old custom for young people to ride all night and
sing, while guarding camp and protecting the horse herds.
Then it became a social custom with special songs, sung in
unison by different groups riding two on a horse.
CHAPTER XL
SOCIETY OF BRAVE DOGS
My tepee was near the three dance lodges of the Brave Dog
Society, which were somewhat apart from the others, near the
center of the circle camp. There they kept their costumes
and weapons and dressed for parades and dances. Day after
day I watched them in their interesting customs.
As a society they had power, because of their reputation
for bravery. Every one feared to oppose them. They did not
maltreat people, but sometimes punished severely offenders
against the public welfare. Their function in the tribal
camp was primarily to preserve order.
The first evening of the camp, they rode round the circle
shouting their orders to the people, saying:
"Let every one be quiet to-night. Young people must not
act thoughtlessly or play pranks. The sacred woman has
important ceremonies and should not be disturbed."
For parades and dances out of doors, the Brave Dogs
went forth in their best costumes. They marched by twos.
Short Robe, their leader, wore a beaded suit of deerskin
trimmed over shoulders and arms with black-tipped weasel-
skins; also a large coyote-skin, with his head thrust through
a slit in the middle of the skin and the tail hanging down his
back. According to their society custom, he carried a rattle
in his right hand and a blanket over his left arm. Sometimes
in their parades, Short Robe's youngest son, a boy of twelve,
walked by his father's side, wearing a miniature costume like
the chief.
Next in rank to Short Robe were two mounted men, Big
Moon and Elk Horn. They were the assistant leaders, and
SOCIETY OF BRAVE DOGS MARCHING THROUGH THE CAMP
In front is Short Robe, the head man, with his small son
CHARACTERISTIC COSTUMES OF BRAVE DOGS
In the center is Lone Chief as a grizzly bear. The four others — Blood, Flat Tail,
Mountain Chief, and Drags-his-Robe — were known as Old Men Comrades
SOCIETY OF BRAVE DOGS 285
wore war bonnets of selected eagle feathers. Their horses
were painted with war pictures, representing the brave deeds
of their riders.
Two members, Lone Chief and Cream Antelope, repre-
sented grizzly bears. They alone of the society carried bows
and arrows. Their faces were painted with the "bear face"
pattern — red all over, with black marks downward from
the eyes and corners of the mouth. They wore headdresses
of bearskin, with bear's ears and two bear claws on top for
horns; and on their arms were bands made of bearskin with
bear claws attached. The lower part of their bodies was
naked and painted with bright colors. They wore loin-cloths
and beaded belts with daggers and short-sleeved shirts of
soft-tanned skins covered with fringe.
Four other members were known as "Old Men Comrades."
They were Flat Tail, Mountain Chief, Drags-His-Robe, and
Blood. They carried rattles and wore eagle feathers in their
hair. Flat Tail had a beaver-skin cap, Mountain Chief a
red band round his head and carried a skin shield decorated
with clusters of eagle feathers. It was the duty of the Old
Men Comrades to call the society together, to act as advisers
in the ceremonies, also as heralds and to make announce-
ments to the people.
The lay members wore whatever they pleased. They were
mostly from prominent families, who were chosen because of
their fine costumes; also because their relatives had property
and could make liberal presents to the society. They were
— Lazy Husband, Raven Eyes, Drags Behind, Makes-Cold-
Weather, Bad Married, Big Spring, Bird Rattler, Bear Shoe,
Three Bears, Two Spears, and Black Bear. In parades it was
their custom to carry blankets over their left arms and rattles
in their right hands. They painted their faces to correspond
with the designs on their rattles. These rattles were looked
upon as ceremonial objects and were all different. If a
286 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
member wanted to withdraw from the society, he sold his
rattle. Thus the transfer consisted in the purchase of a
rattle.
In parades the four drummers walked behind, wearing
blankets tied about their waists, beating on drums and sing-
ing. Some of the members carried sacred objects; Drags-His-
Robe had a Medicine Pipe, Mountain Chief a Shield, and
Big Moon, one of the mounted men, the War Bridle.
They all marched in time with the beating of drums and
sang. A throng of women and children, the families of mem-
bers, followed in the rear. Every now and then they stopped
in their march, and, turning about, faced the drummers and
danced backwards and forwards; then reversed and moved
on. Sometimes they stopped to give a formal dance in front
of the lodge of a prominent man. They seated themselves in
a circle in their regular positions on both sides of the door.
Short Robe, as chief of the society, was at the head with his
son; and then the four Old Men Comrades. The two grizzly
bears were at the other end of the circle, with the lay mem-
bers between. The families of members stood near and helped
in the singing.
In the dance they rose in their places. The two mounted
men rode round and round the circle in opposite directions,
forcing the dancers toward the center, and at last pretended
to ride them down. This figure was used, because the founder
of the society had a way of killing enemies by riding them
down with his horse. Finally, all members who had per-
formed the brave feat of unhorsing an enemy, took hold of
the two mounted men and dragged them from their horses.
Then they all danced together. When they were ready to
stop, they held their rattles high in the air and the drummers
their drums; they shouted and returned to their seats.
Whenever the Brave Dogs stopped at a lodge and gave
their dance, the owner was expected to give them a feast,
SOCIETY OF BRAVE DOGS 287
They kept on dancing until food appeared. Any man of
prominence dared not refuse, lest people think him stingy.
After their feasts, the head men of the society were ac-
customed to make speeches; and they all sang together
accompanied by the beating of drums. One of their songs
was: "It is bad to live to be old; it is better to die young,
fighting bravely in battle."
One evening, I saw the Brave Dogs marching through
camp in the golden light of sunset. They went to the beating
of drums, singing in unison and shaking their rattles, dressed
in gorgeous costumes of wild animal skins and war bonnets,
carrying weapons and their standards of black-tipped eagle
feathers. Elk Horn, as herald, rode in advance, shouting their
orders and warnings; and announced their society dance.
That night I saw the lodges of the Brave Dogs, glowing
with light from inside fires. Their drums beat steadily and
became louder and louder. Then people began to assemble,
coming from all parts of the camp, until the dance lodge was
thronged.
I stood outside, listening to the war-whoops and singing.
The rhythmical beating of the drums increased until it
reached a climax; then, with loud beating and shouts, would
suddenly cease.
For a while I waited; then crawled under the canvas and
found myself inside, among a crowd of women and children
— the families of the Brave Dogs. But, they were so inter-
ested in the dance, they took no notice of my sudden ap-
pearance in their midst.
The dance was at its height and the Brave Dogs had laid
aside their costumes and blankets. They looked savage and
wild, with the red glow of the fire on painted faces and bodies.
They wore only loin-cloths and moccasins. Some had bone
whistles in their mouths on which they blew shrilly, others
sang and gave war-whoops at intervals.
288 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
Short Robe as leader wore his large coyote-skin, with head
thrust through a slit in the middle, the tail hanging down his
back and almost touching the ground. Four of the dancers
were covered with white clay and represented gray wolves.
They carried long sticks decorated with eagle feathers. They
imitated wolves driving buffalo, circling round the dancers.
Their step was an alternate lifting of the feet, slow or fast,
according to the beat of the drums.
The two grizzly bear dancers sat in a hole for a den. They
wore the bear headdress, with bear's ears and bear claws on
top for double horns. Their faces were painted red with
black streaks across the eyes and corners of the mouth,
representing the "bear face."
Whenever the spectators wanted to see them dance, they
threw at them; but, like bears, they were lazy and stayed
in their den until a point in the dance when the wolf dancers
had herded the buffalo and were closing in; then the two
bears rose slowly and entered the dance, driving back the
wolves from the buffalo, after which they returned to their
den and all the dancers sat down. This figure was repeated
many times.
Before they separated, the Brave Dogs had a feast; and
then marched through the camp, singing their society song
and shouting:
"Let every one be quiet to-night. Do not disturb the
sacred woman. All the young men should rest and be
ready to help. To-morrow we will build the Sun Lodge and
will make it a great day."
CHAPTER XLI
A MEDICINE-PIPE CEREMONY
It was twilight in the camp. Bright fires lighted up the inner
circle of Painted Tepees and revealed in soft colors their
fanciful bird and animal pictures. A fresh breeze blew from
the mountains, whistling through the ropes of the lodges,
tinkling the small bells on top of the ear-poles and rattling
the bunches of deer hoofs over the doors.
While wandering among the tepees, I saw a group of young
men on their way to a dance, singing to an accompaniment
of jingling bells, then two night-singers making their rounds
on a horse. Suddenly a crowd rushed from a lodge and
laid hold of the two riders; their horse bucked and plunged,
but the singers held fast and galloped away amid shouts of
laughter.
Then I came to a small lodge of a poor family, where the
fire burned low, and heard a medicine man doctoring a pa-
tient, snuffing and grunting and stamping his feet.
In another lodge I heard a man shout angrily, so his
neighbors could hear: "What has become of the woman who
went for water?"
Soon he shouted again, louder and more angrily: "What
has become of the woman who went for water? She has been
gone a long time."
And then I heard a strange method of public rebuke.
Indians in near-by lodges took up his cry; they mocked his
impatient and angry tone, shouting one after the other:
"What has become of the woman who went for water?" It
spread quickly from one band to another; and ended in
laughter and a general disturbance throughout the camp.
While I stood in the shadow listening to the many inter-
290 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
esting sounds of camp life, I saw two figures muffled in blan-
kets move stealthily from lodge to lodge. Finally they stopped
at the tepee of Big Spring, a well-known chief. It glowed
with light from an inside fire and they peered cautiously
through a crack in the door. They were medicine-pipe scouts
on the lookout for a victim. That night Lone Chief was
giving up his sacred Pipe. He told some of his friends se-
cretly; he wanted to catch Big Spring and make him his suc-
cessor; he was prominent and could afford to pay well for the
Pipe.
The owner of a Medicine Pipe could force any one to pur-
chase it, regardless of the wishes of his victim, provided he
could catch him. If he found him asleep and touched him
with the Pipe, he dared not resist; death and ill luck were the
penalties for refusing a Medicine Pipe.
But Big Spring had warning that Lone Chief was after him.
He did not want the care and expense of owning a Pipe.
So he stayed away from his tepee that night. The scouts
could not find him and Lone Chief had to make another
choice.
Some medicine-pipe men were assembled in the lodge of
Lone Chief. They had opened his Pipe Bundle and were
singing and drinking. They kept on with the ceremony,
waiting for their scouts to report favorably. Then they
would go forth together. In their actions they imitated the
grizzly bear, stealing quietly upon their victim, to take him
by surprise in the night, the way a bear does; because the
power of the Pipe came from the grizzly bear. They sang
bear songs and imitated the sound the grizzly makes when he
charges, also owl songs to cast a spell over their victim, so he
could not escape; the owl is a bird of night and its power also
belongs to the Pipe. So Lone Chief and his friends kept on
with their ceremony throughout the night, awaiting their
scouts.
A MEDICINE-PIPE CEREMONY 291
In the meantime, I returned to my lodge and lay down on
my couch. That night the noise and confusion of the camp
kept every one in our tepee awake. Even the baby, Tears-in-
Her-Eyes, was restless in her little hammock-bed. Strikes-
on-Both-Sides sang to her, rocking the hammock, singing
over and over the old Indian cradle song: "Come, wolf, eat
this baby if she don't sleep."
It was clear moonlight. The dogs were restless, barking
and fighting and on foraging expeditions. Near midnight, a
dog came silently into our lodge and tried to steal a side of
bacon, but Strikes-on-Both-Sides followed him so closely he
dropped his prize and fled yelping through the door.
Then a party of young men came close to the lodge and
gave a begging dance, expecting me as the owner to make
presents; it added to the prestige of every lodge owner in the
camp to have a reputation for generosity. After we gave
them food, they went to dance at another tepee. In this way
it was customary for a party to visit four places, and then
disband for the night.
Morning Plume's lodge was so close I could hear every
sound. His small son was restless and bothered his aged
grandmother. When the fire burned low he was cold and
began to cry. He wanted her to cover him warmly. She was
no sooner back in her own bed than he cried again for water.
This wakened his baby brother. So the mother sang a
cradle song and rocked him to sleep.
Near by was the lodge of a young man named Two Eagles.
That night his only child was ill. I heard a medicine man
enter and begin his monotonous drumming. The beating was
soft and regular, unlike the lively drumming for a ceremony
or dance; this was slow and steady and sounded muffled, like
the steady throbbing of a human heart. After midnight the
beating suddenly ceased, and I knew the child had died.
For a moment there was silence; I heard the mother sobbing
292 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
as she took up the lifeless body; then realizing it was dead,
she broke into a mournful wail.
Just before dawn a rider galloped through the camp, call-
ing for every one to get up and go to work. But it was only a
joke; no one took it seriously; every one knew it was a man
who was humorously inclined.
Then came the morning breeze from the mountains, mak-
ing a humming sound against the ropes; and the ears of our
lodge began to flap. I heard the beating of a horse's hoofs on
the soft turf, going towards the meadow where the tribal
herds were feeding; and knew it was the day man going to
relieve the night herder.
Suddenly the sound of drums, with shouts and singing,
came from the band of Fat Melters. At last Lone Chief had
caught some one with his Pipe.
Then Elk Horn, the herald, rode forth beating a drum.
He shouted as he galloped through the camp:
"You Fat Melters! Get up and cook breakfast. Wolf
Plume has been caught with the Pipe. Let every one help.
He must pay many horses, robes and blankets. Do not
delay; the sun will soon rise. The dance will take place in
the lodge of Wolf Plume. Let every one come."
Quickly I dressed and made ready my cameras. When I
went out from the lodge, a bright morning star was rising
over the prairie. In the dim light, I saw a crowd gathered
about one of the tepees. Then the drums began again — the
signal for Lone Chief and his friends to come forth with the
sacred Pipe. I saw them march through the camp and made
picture records of these interesting events, though the sun
had not risen.
Lone Chief and Wolf Plume were at the head of the pro-
cession with the Medicine Pipe. Then came their wives car-
rying the sacred bundles. The drummers were behind; also
prominent men with their wives, who were to help Lone Chief
in the ceremony.
A MEDICINE-PIPE CEREMONY 293
When they came to Wolf Plume's tepee, they halted; but
the singing and drumming continued. In the doorway of the
lodge stood the aged mother of Wolf Plume. She had snow-
white hair and leaned heavily on a staff. When she saw
Wolf Plume with the Pipe, and heard the singing and drum-
ming, she was so overcome with emotion that she joined in
the song. She waved her stick in the air and shouted:
"Good boy! Wolf Plume! Good boy! My son! You are
now a great chief."
Then the drumming ceased and the procession entered the
lodge. The women laid their sacred bundles at the back, and
all took seats. Lone Chief, as the officiating pipe man, sat
in the center. Wolf Plume, the new pipe man, was on his
right; and the seven men who would help in the singing and
drumming, on his left.
Next to Wolf Plume sat his wife and the wife of Lone
Chief. Beyond them were the head wives of the seven
drummers, also the aged and people of prominence. Indians
came from all parts of camp and crowded into the tepee.
Members of Wolf Plume's band (blood relatives) and his
friends brought presents to help him in the payment. Lone
Chief was paid forty horses for the Pipe, and besides a large
pile of clothing, blankets, and provisions. Tearing Lodge,
father-in-law of Wolf Plume, received them, calling in a loud
voice the names of each giver. My present, a blanket of
bright colors, was announced with the rest.
Then Lone Chief dressed Wolf Plume in the ceremonial
clothes — a headband of white goatskin with an eagle
feather, beaded buckskin shirt trimmed with ermine tails,
and leggings and moccasins to match. He also gave him a
horse, which could only be ridden by the pipe owner, and a
saddle, bridle, whip and lariat, to go with the horse.
The ceremony of transfer began while the sun was still low
over the prairie. Its first golden rays streamed into the open
294 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
front of the lodge and fell upon the seven singers with their
painted medicine drums. Sweet pine burned as incense.
Lone Chief and his wife placed their hands in the rising smoke
and sang the first song of a series of seven. During these
songs the women removed the outer coverings from the
bundle. Then they all sang the Buffalo Song, making the
buffalo sign with forefingers curved, while Wolf Plume and
his wife untied the outer thongs of buffalo-skin. During the
Antelope Song the singers imitated with their hands the
graceful motions of antelope. While loosing the wrapper of
elkskin they sang the Elk Song, making the elk sign by
holding their hands to their heads with fingers extended to
represent antlers; and the women shook their heads at the
bundle, as if they were elk about to charge and tear loose the
wrapper with their horns. Thus the sacred bundle of the
Medicine Pipe was opened, exposing many skins of birds and
animals and other relics.
Now came the time for dancing with the Pipe. Only pipe
owners could dance with a Medicine Pipe; but, if a man had
made a vow, he could fulfill that vow by dancing with one of
the sacred skins, which was taken from the bundle. When-
ever a prominent man arose to dance, he was applauded and
received with special attention by the spectators. Because
Wolf Plume was receiving the Pipe, he did not rise to dance;
he sat beside the bundle and received the skins and relics
from those who took part in the ceremony.
For the grizzly bear dance, the drummers sang the words:
"In the spring I grow restless."
In this dance, Lone Chief imitated the actions of a bear
coming from its winter den; and sang while he danced:
"I wander in the summer."
Then he took the Pipe, and holding it in both hands, sang:
" Sacred Chief, every one shall see you."
A MEDICINE-PIPE CEREMONY 295
He slowly raised the Pipe, that all might see it, and sang:
"The Chief is powerful."
After that, they beat on the drums and sang bear songs,
while Lone Chief arose and danced like a bear, holding his
hands as a bear does its paws; and imitated a bear by put-
ting his feet together, moving backwards and forwards with
short jumps and breathing hard; he also imitated the awk-
ward motions of a bear running, digging in the ground and
turning over stones for insects.
For the Thunder Dance, Lone Chief blew shrilly on his
whistle, made from the wing bone of an eagle, to represent
the sound the Thunder Bird makes with its wings when it
first comes in the spring; also the time the bear leaves its
winter den. Then he danced, holding the Pipe in his right
hand and spreading out the fingers of his left, to represent
the wings of the Thunder Bird.
During the singing of the Swan Song, Bear Child danced
alone. He represented the chief swan, the leader of the flock.
He made the swan sign, by holding both hands extended
with fingers spread out in imitation of a swan flying.
In the Antelope Dance, Red Fox made motions with his
hands to imitate an antelope running; and moved his head
like an antelope on the alert for danger.
When the drummers sang the Crane Song, several dancers
arose. They all gave the crane call and imitated the motions
of flying cranes. Several songs were sung for different water
birds and for ducks and geese. And, after a short rest, while
both men and women smoked, seven owl songs were sung;
and buffalo songs for the white-skin band worn about the
head of the pipe owner. The ceremony came to an end with
the singing of the Good Luck Song for Wolf Plume, the new
pipe owner; thereafter, he must always sing it if he wanted
anything very badly.
296 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
At sunset, Lone Chief and his wife led the new pipe owners
outside the lodge. They faced the four directions in turn and
sang:
(Towards the west)
"Over there, towards the sunset, are the mountains.
May you see them as long as you live.
From them you will get your sweet pine as incense.
(North)
"Over there, is the star-that-never-moves (Pole Star).
May you live to see that star for many years.
(East)
"Over there, you will get old age.
From the east comes the light of the Sun.
(South)
"Over there, are warriors coming with scalps.
May the warm wind of the south bring plenty of food."
It took Lone Chief four days to confer upon Wolf Plume
the rights of the Pipe — to instruct him in its care and im-
part the secrets of the ceremony. As owner of a Medicine
Pipe, there were taboos that Wolf Plume and his wife must
avoid; it would inconvenience them both and interfere with
their daily life.
They must never point at a person with fingers, only with
the thumb. They must never move anything burning with
a knife, lest it cause their teeth to ache. They must not pick
up a lost article without first singing a certain song. They
must never allow a dog to leap upon them; it would cause the
body to ache. If Wolf Plume let any one ride or use his
medicine horse, some of his herd would sicken and die. The
word "bear" must never be used near the Pipe; it would
cause bad dreams and bring sickness. But the evil power
might be averted by burning sweet pine for incense. Sweet
pine must be burned every morning before lighting the fire,
A MEDICINE-PIPE CEREMONY 297
also before taking out the Pipe and before carrying it back
in the evening.
It was customary for a pipe owner to take a seat at the back
of a lodge, never by the door. No one should walk in front
of him, lest it cause blindness or sore eyes. He must not light
his pipe with a willow stick, but must use either Cottonwood
or service berry. The firewood inside his tepee must always
lie in the same direction with the Pipe; and none of the fire-
wood could* be taken from the lodge. Near the place where
the Pipe Bundle was kept, no one should talk loud, aim a
gun, or throw anything. The owner must never touch a
dead person, or say anything against the character of any
one.
A Medicine Pipe was not allowed to hang outside in bad
weather. It must be taken out after sunrise on a clear day
and hung from a tripod behind the lodge. It was carried out
by the south side and returned by the north, using the same
direction the sun moves through the sky.
As soon as the first thunder was heard in the spring, the
pipe owner gave a ceremony. He invited the people to come,
both old and young. And they came gladly, in order to be
prayed for and given tobacco from the Pipe Bundle; it
brought one under the good will of the Thunder. During
the pipe ceremony in the spring an owner took his pipe out
of doors and held it towards the sky, praying for every one
present, that none of them might be killed during that year
by the Thunder.
A Medicine Pipe was a great burden to both husband and
wife, but especially to the woman. On the other hand, its
possession gave them both a prominent position in the tribe;
they gained social and religious recognition. It was said of
Lone Chief, that he profited by his Pipe. His property in-
creased. He followed carefully its rules and had good luck
throughout his ownership.
CHAPTER XLII
A SACRED CEREMONY IN MAD WOLF'S TEPEE
Mad Wolf called upon the Society of Brave Dogs to build
the framework of the sweat-lodge. It held a prominent place
in the Sun Dance
Then the Brave Dogs rode to the river valley for willow
branches to be used in constructing the framework of the
lodge; and on their return, they entered the camp on the
east side, parading around the circle and the tepee of Mad
Wolf, where the sacred woman was fasting and praying ?
singing in unison and holding aloft their green branches,
which they finally deposited on the side of camp toward the
setting sun. There they built the sweat-lodge by sticking
the willow branches into the ground and bending them into
the form of an oval; they interlocked them on top and made
the entrance toward the rising sun, digging a hole inside for
the heated stones and covering the entire structure with
robes and blankets.
When the Brave Dogs had everything ready, the medi-
cine men and women came from Mad Wolf's tepee. White
Calf, as the "father," was in the lead; then came Mad
Wolf, and Spotted Eagle, the head medicine man; and then
the wife of White Calf with Gives-to-the-Sun, the fasting
woman.
They walked in single file, slowly and by stages, with eyes
fixed upon the ground, passing around the south side of the
sweat-lodge from east to west, following the direction of
the sun through the heavens. They stopped on the west
side, where Gives-to-the-Sun took her seat beside the struc-
ture with the wife of White Calf; the men stood on the south
side, while the two women bowed their heads in prayer.
CEREMONY IN MAD WOLF'S TEPEE 299
Then Mad Wolf, White Calf, and Spotted Eagle removed
their clothing and entered the sweat-lodge. The fasting
woman prayed over the skull of a buffalo bull, which the
Brave Dogs handed to Mad Wolf inside the lodge. He laid
the skull on a bunch of meadow grass, because it was the
favorite food of the buffalo.
Then Spotted Eagle painted black marks on the skull to
represent stars, and red for the Sun; and they chanted to-
gether, while Spotted Eagle put meadow grass into the nose
and eyes of the skull, to symbolize the feeding of the buffalo.
The Brave Dogs took the skull outside, fastening it on
top of the sweat-lodge with the nose pointing towards the
rising sun.
Then the Brave Dogs passed hot stones to Mad Wolf in-
side the lodge. He laid sweet grass upon them and held his
hands in the rising smoke, rubbing them over his body for
purification, and sang this prayer to the Sun:
" May our lives be as strong as these stones."
He sprayed water on the hot stones; as the steam rose, he
sang:
"May our lives be straight.
May we live to be old and always have water to drink."
Throughout the ceremony, Mad Wolf and his associates
prayed to the Sun, Moon, and Morning Star. Then the pro-
cession returned to Mad Wolf's tepee, walking slowly and in
single file, with heads bowed and eyes fixed on the ground,
carefully avoiding the trail by which they came out.
On this same day the tribe had a parade, in which men,
women, and children took part. They dressed in their best
and painted their faces. The two war chiefs, Little Plume
and Little Dog, were in the lead, wearing fine costumes of
deerskin decorated with colored beads and black-tipped
tails of weasels. Little Plume had a foxskin wound around
300 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
his head for a cap, with the tail hanging down behind and
two eagle feathers in his hair.
Some of the women riders wore dresses decorated with
quill work and elk teeth; their saddles had pommels of deer
antlers, beaded pendants, and buckskin cruppers; clusters of
eagle feathers hung from the necks of their horses and bright-
colored feathers from their tails.
Red Fox was dressed as a clown or jester. He rode a black
horse and had his face and hands painted black; his robe too
was black and extended from his shoulders, back over the
tail of his horse, waving gracefully in the wind when he rode
at a gallop.
Before the parade, Two Spears rode through the camp,
leading the white horse of Morning Eagle, the aged warrior.
It was covered with painted pictures, to remind the people
of Morning Eagle's brave deeds in war, both as leader and
as a scout.
The pictures told how he cut loose a horse close to the lodge
of an enemy — a hand with a knife, a picket pin and a horse;
also the time he took many horses in an open fight; how he
killed some Gros Ventres and took their weapons — a lance,
a shield, and bows and arrows. He even seized a gun from
the hand of an enemy and escaped without hurting him; and
killed a Crow Indian who entered his camp at night and tried
to steal his horses. While Two Spears rode through the
camp, leading this horse of victory, he proclaimed in a loud
voice the brave deeds of old Morning Eagle and then joined
in the parade.
When the tribe had assembled, they marched slowly around
the inner circle, with their two war chiefs in the lead, and
singing in unison. Some held aloft human scalps tied to long
branches; others held standards of eagle feathers, guns and
lances and feathered shields fastened to poles.
That evening, Mad Wolf invited to his lodge prominent
CEREMONY IN MAD WOLF'S TEPEE 301
men and women who had taken part in former Sun Dances,
to pray and sing throughout the night. And the Brave Dogs
sang in their lodge the dancing songs of the weather makers,
to keep the weather clear. Then they rode through camp and
commanded the people to be quiet and not disturb the medi-
cine men and women in their ceremony in Mad Wolf's tepee;
next day would take place the building of the sun lodge and
the ceremony of raising the center pole.
Round the outside of Mad Wolf's lodge green branches
were placed — the sign of an important ceremony and only
those invited should enter. For a while I watched from my te-
pee the chiefs and their wives coming to the ceremony. I went
nearer and listened to a solemn chant led by Mad Wolf and
White Calf. At intervals the low monotone of the men was
joined by the higher voices of the women. Then I stood close
to the door and heard the song die away. In the silence that
followed I decided to enter. So I raised the door-flap and
looked inside. Mad Wolf and White Calf were seated at the
back, behind a sort of altar, made by cutting away the grass
and forming sod-walls on three sides, with an open space
toward the rising sun. An Indian seated by the door mo-
tioned me to withdraw, but my Indian father signed for me
to stay, so I took my place among the singers and priests.
At one side sweet grass was burning on a hot coal as incense.
The base of the altar was covered with light-colored earth
and had painted symbols to represent sun dogs, the Moon,
Morning Star, and Mistake-Morning-Star.
Mad Wolf and his wife sat quietly in their places, with
heads bowed in prayer and eyes cast down. As the fasting
woman, she was the central figure; all the serious and solemn
aspects of the Sun Dance centered about her. She wore a
tanned buffalo robe, which covered her from head to foot;
her hair was unbraided and concealed her face. She and
Mad Wolf did nothing for themselves; others took care of
3 o2 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
their lodge and looked after the fire. No one spoke aloud;
every one whispered. All who came to the ceremony en-
tered quietly and reverently. That night throughout the big
camp no noise was allowed, because of the fasting woman and
her ceremony.
It was Morning Plume's duty to attend to the fire. He
kept the blaze down, so that the light was subdued. Every
one sat quietly in their places without talking, and left the
moving about to Morning Plume. If Mad Wolf or his wife
had anything to say, they whispered it to White Calf or his
wife; and they repeated it in a low voice to the others.
Morning Plume also attended to cutting the tobacco and fill-
ing the pipes for all the company. Beside him was a tobacco
outfit — a large beaded bag, extra pipe stems and a cutting-
board. Two redstone pipes were passed around the circle,
one for men and the other for women. Whenever they burned
out, they were handed back to Morning Plume, who emptied
the ashes into a hole in the ground and refilled them with
tobacco. After food had been distributed, they were ready
to begin the ceremony.
White Calf brought forth some buffalo rawhides, which
were spread on the ground in front of the men singers, and
pairs of rattles distributed. My Indian father asked that two
of the rattles be given to me, so that I could join them in the
singing.
White Calf opened the ceremony with a prayer. Then
Bear Child took a hot ember from the fire with the prongs and
laid it before White Calf; he placed sweet grass upon it to
burn as incense and sang to the Morning Star. Then we all
joined in singing seven songs to Morning Star and seven each
to the Sun and Moon. There were seven songs for a sacred
eagle feather; in the Sun Dance legend, the Sun God used
an eagle feather to brush the scar from the face of Scarface.
We also sang songs to the raven and songs to the sacred
CEREMONY IN MAD WOLF'S TEPEE 303
headdress, which was worn by the fasting woman. There was
a song for everything that made up this bonnet — the white
weasel-skin, the feathers and plumes, flint arrow-point, snipe,
buffalo tail, and a small bundle filled with seeds of the to-
bacco.
Then White Calf, the head-chief, prayed, saying:
"Father, the Sun, I am praying for my people.
May they be happy in the summer and live through the cold of winter.
Many are sick and hungry,
Pity them and let them live.
May we go through this ceremony right,
The way you taught our people to do in the days of long ago.
If we make mistakes, pity us.
Mother Earth, pity us, help us; may the grass and berries grow.
Morning Star, shine into our lodge and give us long life.
Father, the Sun, bless our children, relatives and visitors.
May our trails lie straight through a happy life; may we live to be old.
We are all your children and ask these things with good hearts."
During this prayer, the Indians sat silently and with heads
bowed reverently; and at the close, they united in a long-
drawn " ah-h-h-h-h-h " to express their approval, while some
added a few words of prayer.
This ceremony lasted until long after midnight; day was
beginning to dawn when the company went away. But
before they separated, W 7 hite Calf as the "father" gave in-
structions for the important events of next day — the big day
of the camp. Then the Sun Dance Bundle would be trans-
ferred to Mad Wolf and his wife; they would have the tribal
feast, when the sacred tongues would be distributed; women
would make their vows before all the people; and at sunset
they would raise the center pole and finish the sun lodge.
CHAPTER XLIII
THE TRIBAL DANCING-LODGE
Early the following morning, Elk Horn, the herald, rode
around the camp circle beating a drum, and announced:
"This is the great day; now we raise the sun pole; it is time
to get ready; every band should send men to help; bring trees
and branches from the river valley; all must do their share
and take part in building the dancing-lodge."
Then the different bands sent young men to help in the
work. Young women dressed themselves in their best cos-
tumes and rode forth on horseback to help drag in the trees,
using lariats fastened to the pommels of their saddles. They
returned from the river valley and entered camp amid shout-
ing and firing of guns. They dragged the trees and branches
to the place for the sun lodge in the center of the camp circle.
In the construction of the big lodge, nine forked tree trunks
were used for posts; also long branches for stringers and raft-
ers, and a lot of green boughs to cover the sides.
The men who were chosen to get the center pole went
forth as a war party and cut down the tree with a ceremony.
They selected a large cottonwood with forked branches.
Double Runner was the warrior chosen for the honor of
felling it, because of his brave deeds in war. He came for-
ward with an axe, the blade painted red. First, he told a
war story — how he had killed an enemy in battle, then
struck the tree with his axe. In this manner, after recounting
four brave deeds, Double Runner cut down the tree. When
it began to fall, the waiting warriors shouted and gave war-
whoops and fired their guns into its crown; as it struck the
ground, they made a rush and broke off the branches, count-
ing "coups" as trophies of war. Then they trimmed the trees
THE TRIBAL DANCING-LODGE 305
and rested the forked end on a travois. Indians on horses
helped with lariats; and in this way they bore the center
pole to camp, placing it beside the open hole in the medicine
lodge, with its forks pointing toward the setting sun.
Prominent men were chosen for the honor of digging the
post-holes. They also put the stringers into place and long
poles for rafters. Thus they made everything ready for
raising the center pole at sunset, when all the bands of the
tribe would assemble and do their share.
In the meantime, the ceremony of transferring the Sun
Dance Bundle was taking place in the lodge of Mad Wolf.
Then the people had their first chance to see the fasting
woman, and a large crowd assembled. The men who sang
and beat with rattles sat together on the north side of the
lodge; across from them were the women, who had made
vows at former sun dances. Directly behind the altar and
in the center were Mad Wolf and his wife, as the givers of
the Sun Dance, together with White Calf and his wife who
were giving up the bundle.
First, a small cottonwood tree was planted in the ground
close to the altar by Middle Calf, who recounted four of
his brave deeds in war. Gives-to-the-Sun and the "mother"
kneeled together and sang. They made dancing movements
in unison, as they took up the sacred headdress and hung it
upon the tree.
Then the "mother," still kneeling beside the headdress
and swaying her body in time with the beating of rattles on
the ground, made hooking motions at the tree and imitated
an elk; she rubbed her head against the branches and made a
whistling sound like an elk. Finally she took the headdress
and, with many symbolical movements, placed it upon
Gives-to-the-Sun. While clothing her in the ceremonial
dress of deer and antelope-skins, the women attendants sang
in unison. They placed the elkskin robe about her and sang
3 o6 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
the Elk Song, making the elk sign and imitating the move-
ments of elk, swaying their bodies like trotting elk and giving
the elk call.
In the meantime the entire tribe had assembled about the
unfinished sun lodge, seating themselves in long rows on the
prairie, waiting for the feast. When they heard the women
singing the Elk Song in Mad Wolf's tepee — the last song in
clothing the fasting woman, they knew it was time for the
medicine woman to come out.
When she finally appeared, the throng was so great promi-
nent men stood on both sides of the doorway to hold the
people back. First in the line came White Calf, the head-chief,
followed by Mad Wolf; then the wife of White Calf as the
"mother," and Gives-to-the-Sun, the fasting woman, with
her attendants bearing the parfleches of sacred tongues.
They moved by slow stages, all with heads reverently bowed
and eyes fixed on the ground. The face of Gives-to-the-Sun
was hidden by her headdress. Weakened by her fast, she
walked slowly and feebly, leaning on a staff. Mad Wolf
also used a staff and kept his head bowed, holding aloft a
stalk of wild parsnip, with eagle feathers on the branches.
This solemn procession moved slowly around the unfin-
ished sun lodge, going from the east towards the south, fol-
lowing the sun's daily course through the sky; and finally
entered a temporary shelter, to remain there during the
tribal feast.
Then many Indians came before them, bearing offerings,
which they presented to White Calf; and, with each offering,
White Calf prayed to the Sun in behalf of the giver and painted
his face. Women who brought offerings, handed them to the
wife of White Calf who also prayed and painted their faces.
A fresh hide was stretched on the ground in front of the
shelter, to be cut into strips for binding the rafters of the sun
lodge. For this honor, Bear Chief, a warrior of renown, was
THE TRIBAL DANCING-LODGE 307
chosen by Eagle Head, who had cut these thongs at the for-
mer Sun Dance. Then Eagle Head transferred to Bear Chief
the right to cut; and the relatives of Bear Chief came for-
ward with gifts to help him pay for the honor.
In the ceremony of transfer, Bear Chief was painted over
the face and body by Eagle Head, who prayed to the Sun
that Bear Chief might have power to cut the hide without
mistake.
Then Bear Chief stood before the people with a knife
painted half red for the Sun and half black for the Moon.
Holding it aloft, he prayed for power. Then he recounted four
of his brave deeds in war, making a stroke after each tale, as
though he were cutting the hide, saying:
"Hear! Men and women, for what I tell you is true. I
went to war in the south against our enemies the Crows.
I took a band of horses and killed two warriors."
After making a stroke towards the hide, Bear Chief
counted another "coup":
"Behold! I went again to war in the north and fought
with a chief of the Crees; I killed him and took his scalp."
In this manner, Bear Chief told four tales; and then cut
the hide into strips, while his relatives stood near and shouted
words of praise.
Women, who had made vows, came forward and took
pieces of the sacred tongues, standing beside the persons in
behalf of whom they had vowed and facing the setting sun.
They prayed aloud so that every one could hear and confessed
their temptations. Some made known the names of men who
wanted them to commit adultery. They told the Sun how
they had power to resist. But none of the men who were im-
plicated came forward to defend themselves.
These groups of praying women, standing in the evening
sunlight, before the venerable medicine men and women, and
the long rows of Indians, men, women and children seated on
the prairie, was a solemn and impressive scene.
308 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
The aged wife of Tearing Lodge came forward and prayed
in behalf of her daughter who was ill; and the wife of Heavy
Breast prayed for her husband who stood beside her. But one
of the most interesting of all the groups was old Awasaki,
wife of Painted Wing, with four small grandchildren. She
stood them in line before the throng of people; after eating one
of the tongues, she faced the setting sun and prayed:
"Sun! Behold! Pity us, help us!
You know I have lived straight; I give you my life to-day.
Now I eat this tongue that my grandchild may live,
The boy who is ill.
I pray also for these children who stand before you.
May they grow and be strong.
May they never suffer from hunger.
May all of them have long life.
Sun, hear us and pity us."
After this prayer, the old woman planted a piece of the
tongue in the ground as a sacrifice to the Underground
Spirits and divided the remainder among her relatives, that
they might be able to lead better lives.
By this time the sun was nearing the summits of the Rocky
Mountains. White Calf, the head-chief, arose and called upon
the people to make ready for raising the sun pole. The men
returned to their lodges and dressed in their best costumes.
They gathered into lines at the four quarters of the camp,
bearing long lodge-poles, which were tied in pairs near their
tops, each pair carried by two men, for lifting into place the
heavy rafters of the dancing-lodge.
The band that was first in line started to sing the tribal
hymn, "Raising the Sun Pole"; it was quickly taken up by
With spirit a A
i*5S 1 — i — i r^ = 8
F=P — r ff P P • 1 1 g £a H r^
\±2±
m
■V
RAISIXG THE CENTER POLE FOR THE SUN LODGE
Warriors advancing, singing the tribal hymn
THE SUN LODGE FINISHED AND READY FOR THE TRIBE
Three society lodges of the Brave Dogs stand on the left
THE TRIBAL DANCING-LODGE 309
other bands as they formed into line. The Indians be-
lieved this song was given by the Sun through Scarface, the
founder of the Sun Dance. It was sung as a prayer by all the
people for the safe raising of the center pole.
In the meantine, White Calf and Mad Wolf walked slowly
to the prostrate pole and stood upon its trunk, while their
wives took positions by its forks. Then the four lines of
warriors, holding aloft their poles, advanced by four stages.
During the pauses, they waited to sing the hymn to the pole,
each band singing in unison regardless of the other bands, in
different intervals of time and pitch; and, as the notes of the
melody all belonged to one chord, the different groups com-
bined harmoniously in a sort of grand fugal effect, the deep
and resonant voices of the warriors booming and sliding up
to the last notes of the song. Finally, the four lines met in
a large circle round the sun lodge, and stood while all the
people, men, women and children joined in singing the tribal
hymn.
Then the head-chief called in a loud voice to raise the pole.
Mad Wolf blew his medicine whistle; he threw off his black-
colored robe and jumped from the pole. With shouts and
war-whoops, the circle of warriors ran towards the unfinished
lodge, followed by the throng of Indians. The pole was
quickly raised with ropes; and the warriors with lodge-poles
lifted the rafters into place, tying them to the frame with
rawhide thongs, and placed green Cottonwood branches
against the sides.
Thus the dancing-lodge was finished and made ready for
the tribe. There the people assembled during the remaining
days of the circle camp, to hear tales of war by prominent
chiefs, to witness the rites of the Weather Dancers and the
dances and ceremonies of the men's societies.
CHAPTER XL1V
END OF THE SUN DANCE AND FAREWELL
OF MY INDIAN FATHER
Next day Elk Horn rode through the camp and summoned
every one to the dancing-lodge. The first to go were the three
Weather Dancers, the medicine men, Spotted Eagle, Bull
Child, and Medicine Bull. When the sun was high they ap-
peared, coming from their tepees in different parts of the
camp, wearing their medicine charms and with faces and
bodies painted.
The Indians looked to the Weather Dancers to drive away
all storms; during the time of the dancing-lodge, they were
expected to keep the weather clear. Through their medi-
cine charms, incantations, and dances, they were believed to
have power over nature.
Bull Child wore a ceremonial robe, 1 which came from
Brings-Down-the-Sun, the famous medicine man of the
north. It was yellow in color and had blue corners; many
skins and feathers of birds were attached. Clusters of stars
were painted over its surface, to represent the constellations
of the Great Bear and the Pleiades. Near the center was a
circle with a blue border for the Sun; below, a blue crescent
for the Moon and a small cross for the Morning Star. Wound
around his head was an otter-skin, with a plume in front and
long eagle feathers behind. The plume came from the Thunder
and gave him power over the weather. In one hand he held
an eagle wing and a wand of raven feathers in the other. The
painted designs on his body had been revealed to him by the
Sun in a dream. On his forehead was a red disc to represent
i This robe is now in the Indian collection of the American Museum of Natu-
ral History, New York City.
END OF THE SUN DANCE 311
the Sun; across his temples, yellow streaks for sun dogs;
clusters of stars were on both cheeks, and on his arms marks
to represent the rainbow.
The three Weather Makers were followed by drummers,
who beat time for their songs. On their way to the sun lodge,
they stopped four times to dance and sing. In their dances
they moved up and down in time with the drumming, holding
bone whistles in their mouths, on which they blew steadily
while gazing fixedly at the sun, facing in turn the rising and
setting sun and making motions with both arms extended.
Thus Spotted Eagle, Bull Child, and Medicine Bull, came
before the people as weather makers, and entered the booth
inside the dancing-lodge. The floor of this booth was made of
earth from the foot of the sun pole, with a surface of white
clay. On three of its sides were low walls of sod, which were
covered with creeping juniper. The back and sides of the
booth were interwoven with branches of ground pine, to
shield the medicine men from the curious gaze of the spec-
tators.
Then many Indians came before the three Weather Makers,
to have their faces painted and to be blessed with sun power
— men, women and children. They took young children in
their arms, gazing steadily into the Sun, and prayed for long
life and good fortune.
In the dancing-lodge a place was reserved for Mad Wolf
and his wife near the center pole and close to the booth of the
Weather Dancers. Gives-to-the-Sun had now finished her
fast and was happy. Her work and troubles were over;
family and relatives were proud of her position in the tribe;
she was the most honored and revered of all the women.
Then a fire-pit was dug in front of the sun pole, and a
famous warrior was called upon to start the fire. After his
war story came other warriors. Each of them took a piece
of firewood and, holding it up, related one of his brave deeds
3 i2 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
in battle; after which he put the stick upon the fire, amid the
beating of drums and "cheering-songs" by the musicians.
The bravest warriors were those who narrated so many brave
deeds they made the fire blaze high.
Mountain Chief, a warrior of renown, stood before the
people with his weapons — a shield and bow and arrows. He
gave his war cry; and, drawing his bow, aimed it in different
directions, telling how he killed an enemy and took his scalp.
After his story, Mountain Chief sat down, amid the beating
of drums and shrill war cries from the spectators.
Then Bear Chief, a famous war leader, his horse painted
with war pictures, rode into the dancing-lodge with a band
of warriors and acted out a sham battle. He was chief of
a band that went against the Sioux Indians. In the sham
battle, Bear Chief kept firing his rifle into the air, over the
heads of the crowd; and after every shot an acting warrior
fell dead. An old woman, a relative of Bear Chief, stood up
and sang a song of gladness, proclaiming his bravery; and one
of the head men made a speech, in which he urged all the
young men to emulate the brave deeds of Bear Chief.
In the meantime a storm was gathering over the Rocky
Mountains and extended toward the plains. The Indians in
the dancing-lodge eagerly watched the black clouds, to see
if the Weather Makers would drive them back.
Now it happened there were two rivals among the medicine
men. Medicine Bull was clearing the weather and Spotted
Eagle praying for rain. Medicine Bull came first from the
booth and faced the clouds. He blew shrilly on his bone
whistle and called in a loud voice:
"Behold! A storm comes from the mountains. But I
. have power over the weather. I shall dance and drive it
back."
Short and sinewy, he danced gracefully in a circle, holding
his otter-skin toward the storm; and with a final sweep waved
END OF THE SUN DANCE 313
it over his head, as if driving back the clouds. Suddenly the
wind changed; the clouds divided and the sun shone.
Then Spotted Eagle, jealous of his rival's success, came
from the booth. He wore medicine charms, which had been
handed down from Four Bears, a famous medicine man and
weather maker of former days — a belt of great power and an
otter-skin cap. In one hand he held a minkskin and in the
other an eagle feather. With these powerful charms, he stood
confidently before the people and announced that he would
bring back the storm, saying:
"My power over the weather comes from the Sun; it is
very strong. Behold! The clouds will come together again
and it will rain."
Spotted Eagle danced and prayed and made motions to-
ward the storm clouds, which continued to spread, until they
passed over the camp with a heavy rain.
The Blackfoot were hero worshipers. They believed that
men who were brave and were successful in war attained a
certain power to help relatives who were ill. For this reason
Wolf Plume, a famous warrior, stood before the people and
prayed:
" Sun, have pity and hear me.
My mother is ill. May she become strong and well."
After this prayer, Wolf Plume enacted a sham battle — a
night attack he had made on a hostile camp. He built a
miniature lodge of branches; he showed how he entered the
tepee of an enemy and took two scalps.
Then Big Beaver came forward with his sister and said:
"Hear, men and women, for what I speak is true. In the
winter-moon I went with Two Eagles on a visit to the Crow
Indians. We crossed the Yellowstone River on the ice and my
partner was drowned. I thought my time to die had also
come. But I made a vow to the Sun — if I ever came out of
3 1 4 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
that danger alive, my sister would come forward with me and
take one of the sacred tongues at the next Sun Dance."
Then his sister held up a tongue and prayed to the Sun;
while Big Beaver announced that he gave his saddle horse
and its equipment to Spotted Eagle, the medicine man, and
asked him to pray for him.
Then a woman aroused the interest of all by singing a
mourning song to her dead lover, saying:
"The dancing-lodge is the place where I was last with my lover.
Now I am lonely.
He left me and went to the Spirit World.
Where I want to join him soon."
Shortly after this, the woman committed suicide by jump-
ing from a cliff in view of the people of her camp.
In former days, when the Indians were free, there was
self-torture at the Sun Dance, by warriors who had made
vows to the Sun in time of peril. Slits were cut on both sides
of the breast and sticks were inserted under the muscles. By
means of rawhide ropes hanging from the center pole and
fastened to these sticks, the warriors danced before the peo-
ple, amid the beating of drums and applause of the spectators,
until the sticks were torn loose from the flesh. Many of these
warriors did not live long after the torture. It was believed
they gave themselves to the Sun and the Sun took them.
Throughout the ceremonies, Mad Wolf and Gives- to-the-
Sun came regularly to the dancing-lodge. He took his pipe
and plenty of tobacco and gave to those who sat near. She
wore her best clothes — deerskin trimmed with elk teeth and
with leggings and moccasins to match.
Then the men's societies, the All-Brave-Dogs, Pigeons,
and Mosquitoes, gave their rituals and dances; and their
members told of brave deeds in war. They also gave war
dances and counted "coups," accompanied by the beating
of drums and of rattles on a rawhide; they had a feast and
END OF THE SUN DANCE 315
passed around a Medicine Pipe for every one to smoke and
pray.
On the last day of the Sun Dance, when the time had come
for the tribe to break camp and separate, Mad Wolf stood
before the people. He spoke to them in a strong voice so that
all could hear, saying:
"Hear, my children, for I speak to you with a good heart.
It does us all good to come together once every year for the
Sun Dance. We have smoked the Medicine Pipe and the rising
smoke has carried away all of our bad feelings. Some have
fulfilled their vows and others made presents to the Sun.
The old people have fasted and prayed and now feel better
in their hearts. The young men have heard the wise counsels
of our chiefs, and young girls have seen the medicine women
who fast and pray, because their lives are pure and they are
good to every one.
"The Sun is our father. He is kind. He covers the trees
with leaves and makes the grass green in the spring. He
also gave the Indians good hearts, that they might be kind
and help each other.
"The grass is now long and the sun is warm over the
prairie; but the cold and frost of winter, with its deep snows
and biting winds will soon come; and I know not where our
women and children will get their food.
"We are not moving; we are just standing still. The
buffalo are all gone, the antelope and the rest of the game
also. The white men continue to drive us towards the setting
sun; but now the Rocky Mountains face us like a wall, and
we can go no farther. I do not care for myself; I shall soon
go to the Great Spirit. But I am anxious for our little chil-
dren; I know not what will become of them.
"You have all heard of our Great Father (President of the
United States), who calls us his red children. He is the only
one upon whom we can depend. Now, you must look to him,
3 i6 OLD INDIAN TRAILS
as in the past we looked to the Sun God. My children, you
must obey his laws and give heed to his advice. He lives far
away toward the rising sun. I shake hands with him now,
for our hearts feel warm toward him.
"Prepare to return to your homes and to care for your
horses and cattle. Look after them well and send your chil-
dren to school. If they learn the language of the white men,
they will be a great help to us; for the way of the white man
is now on top.
"My children, I shake hands with all of you. I want you
to feel the sunshine of joy in your hearts and to have no
trouble. What I speak with my mouth, I feel in my heart.
Farewell!"
Early on the following morning, Running Crane and his
bands of Indians took down their lodges and started south.
Then Mad Wolf with his followers departed for the north.
The great tribal camp melted quickly away; and I was left
alone on the prairie.
The golden rays of the rising sun shone over the rounded
uplands with their long grass-covered slopes and wide
valleys; upon the giant peaks of the Rockies with towering
precipices, dark forests and everlasting snow. Many birds
were singing, meadow-larks, white-crowns, and thrushes.
The west wind bore the scent of pine and cedar from the
mountains, the fragrance of prairie wild flowers and sweet
grass. I took a last look at the broad plain with its great
circle of deserted lodge-fires; and turned my face toward the
rising sun. That was the last I ever saw of Mad Wolf, my
Indian father. He soon went over the Wolf Trail to the
ghostly Sand Hills. And now all that old generation of
Indians have followed him.
THE END
APPENDIX
APPENDIX
MEDICINAL AND USEFUL PLANTS OF THE
BLACKFOOT INDIANS i
By WALTER McCLINTOCK
The following collection of herbs and plants with their Indian
names, uses, and methods of preparation by the Blackfoot, is de-
posited in the Carnegie Museum of Pittsburgh. The specimens
were identified by Mr. O. E. Jennings, Curator of Botany in the
Museum and Professor of Botany in the University of Pittsburgh.
i. Materia Medica of the Blackfoot
Katoya. Sweet Pine. Balsam Fir. Abies lasiocarpa. Burned for
incense in ceremonials. It was used in poultices for fevers and colds
in the chest, also for hair oil by mixing with grease and for perfume.
It is more fragrant than ordinary balsam. When it grows in dry
places it has a more concentrated and sweet odor.
Se-pat-semo. Sweet Grass. Vanilla Grass. Savaslana odorata.
After drying, Sweet Grass was generally kept by plaiting several
strands. It was burned for incense and used also for making hair
tonic by soaking in water. In northern Europe and Sweden it is
called Holy Grass, because with other sweet-scented grasses, it is
strewn before the churches. It is found throughout the world in the
cold north-temperate zone, northern Europe and Asia, Newfound-
land to Alaska, south to New Jersey and Wisconsin to Colorado.
Ek-siso-ke. Sharp Vine. Bear Grass. Yucca glauca. The roots
were boiled in water and used as a tonic for falling hair. The Black-
foot thought there was no better remedy than the Ek-siso-ke for
breaks and sprains. The roots were grated and placed in boiling
water. The inflammation was reduced by holding the injured
member in the rising steam. The roots were also placed upon cuts
to stop bleeding and to allay inflammation.
Nits-ik-opa. Double-Root. Squaw-Root. Carum Gairdneri.
Used for sore throat and placed on swellings to draw out inflamma-
tion. It was also eaten raw or boiled as a vegetable and used for
flavoring stews.
i Published in Zeitschrijt fur Ethnologic \ Berlin Heft 2. 1909.
3 2o APPENDIX
Oks-pi-poku. Sticky-Root, also called Ap-aks-iboku. Wide
Leaves. Tufted Primrose or Alkali Lily. Pachylobus caespitosus.
The root was pounded up and applied wet to sores and swellings to
allay inflammation. It grows in alkali soil and is generally found in
gravel beds.
Apos-ipoco. Tastes Dry. Alumn-Root. Heuchera parvifolia. It
was pounded up and used wet as an application for sores and swell-
ings. It grows on gravel bottoms and alkali flats.
Matoa-koa-ksi. Yellow-Root, or Swamp-Root. Willow-leaved
Dock. Rumex salicijolius. It was boiled and used for many com-
plaints but generally for swellings. It grows in swamps.
Mais-to-nata. Crow-Root. Dotted Blazing-Star. Lacinaria
punctata. Named because of the scarlet brilliancy of its flowers. It
was called Crow-Root by the Blackfoot because it was eaten by
crows and ravens in the autumn. The root was boiled and applied
to swellings. A tea was also made with it for stomach-ache. It was
sometimes eaten raw.
O-muck-kas. Big Turnip. Parsnip. Leptotaenia multifida. Be-
longing to the carrot family, the Big Turnip is found on the sides of
hills, growing in sandy loamy soil. It was gathered in the fall, the
root being used to make a hot drink as a tonic for people in a weak-
ened condition and to make them fat. The root was also pounded
up and burned for incense. When horses had the distemper they
were made to inhale smoke from this root. It was also mixed with
brains and used in soft tanning.
Pa-kito-ki. Gray Leaves. Double Bladder-Pod. Physaria didy-
mocarpa. It is to be found growing on gravel bottoms. The Black-
foot chewed the plant for sore throats, also for cramps and stomach
trouble. It was also placed in water with hot rocks and used to allay
swelling.
A-sat-chiot-ake. Rattle-Weed. Purple Loco-Weed, Crazy-
Weed. Aragallus lagopus. Some of the flowers are purple, others
blue, yellow, and white. It grows on gravel bottoms. The Black-
foot chewed it for sore throat, also to allay swelling.
A-sa-po-pinats. Looks-like-a-plume. Wind-Flower or Round-
fruited Anemone. Anemone globosa. It is adapted for a windy
place and is found growing on hillsides where the wind strikes it,
either on the plains, or in the mountains. In midsummer the flower
turns into cotton, which the Blackfoot burn on a hot coal for head-
ache.
Et-a-wa-asi. Makes-you-sneeze (Snuff). American White
Hellebore. Veratrum speciosum. The plant grows to be about six
APPENDIX 321
feet high and is found in the mountain forests. The root is poison-
ous to eat. It was gathered by the Blackfoot both in the fall and in
the spring and was used for headache. They broke off a small piece
of the root, which was very dry, and snuffed it up the nose.
Sixa-wa-kasim. Black-Root. Red Bane-Berry. Actaea arguta.
The berries are both red and white. It is found near the mountains
in the underbrush along rivers. The roots were boiled and used for
coughs and colds.
Siximas. Black-Root. White Bane-Berry. Actaea eburnea. The
root was boiled and used for coughs and colds.
Six-ocasim. Indian Horehound. It is not found on the prairies
but in the mountains along streams. It was generally used, after
mixing with other plants, for baby colds.
Kaksamis. She Sage. Sweet Sage, Old Man, Pasturage Sage-
Brush. Artemisia frigida. The roots or tops were boiled and used as
a drink for mountain fever. It was also chewed for heart-burn.
Sage was generally tied to articles that were sacrificed to the
Sun.
Otsque-eina. Blue Berry. Oregon Grape. Berberis aquifolium.
The roots were boiled and used for stomach trouble, also for hemor-
rhages. It grew in the forest on the mountains.
A-poks-ikim. Smell-Foot. Northern Valerian. Valeriana septen-
trionalis. A hot drink was made from the roots for stomach trouble.
A-much-ko-iyatsis. Red-Mouth Bush. Paper-Leaf Alder. Al-
nus tenuijolia. A hot drink was made of the bark and taken for
scrofula. The bark split readily and was also used for making stir-
rups, which were covered with raw-hide. The Indian name origi-
nated because it was observed that when people chewed the bark
it colored their mouths red.
Ma-ne-ka-pe. Young Man. Horse-Mint. Monarda scabra. An
eye-wash was made by placing the blossoms in warm water and was
used to allay inflammation.
So-ya-its. Lies-on-his-belly. Long-plumed Avens. Sieversia
ciliata. It grows on the plains and in the mountains. The Blackfoot
boiled it in water and used for sore and inflamed eyes.
Kine. Rose Berries or Apis-is-kitsa-wa. Tomato-Flower. Say's
Rose. Rosa Sayi. A drink was made of the root and given to chil-
dren for diarrhea. The berries were sometimes eaten raw.
Omaka-ka-tane-wan. Gopher-Berries. Wild Potato, Ground
Cherry, Cut-leaved Nightshade. Solarium triflorum. The berries
were boiled and given to children for diarrhea. The plants grow on
prairie-dog hills.
322
APPENDIX
Kita-kop-sim. Garter-Root, or Pachsi, Dry-Root. Silver-Weed.
Argentina anserina. The root was used for diarrhea.
Nuxapist. Little Blanket. Indian Hemp, Dogbane. Apocynum
cannabinum. A drink was made by boiling the root in water and
taken for a laxative. It was also used as a wash to prevent hair fall-
ing out. It grows on high cliffs and was gathered at all times of
year.
A-po-pik-a-tiss. Makes-your-hair-gray. Pore Fungus. Polypo-
rus. A small quantity was used as a purgative. It was said to
make the hair gray if too large a dose was taken. It was also used
for cleaning buckskin.
At-si-po-koa. Fire-Taste. Sharp-leaved Beard-Tongue. Pent-
stemon acuminatus. The Blackfoot named it At-si-po-koa because
of its biting flavor. It was boiled in water and taken internally for
cramps and pains in the stomach. It was also used to stop vomit-
ing.
Six-in-oko. Juniper. Red Cedar. Juniperus scopulorum. The
berries were made into a tea to stop vomiting. The Juniper was
used on the altar of the sacred woman at the Sun Dance.
Aks-peis. Sticky-Weed. Gum-Plant. Grindelia squarrosa. The
root was boiled and taken internally for liver trouble. It grows on
the prairies.
Opet-at-sapia. Gutierrezia diversifolia. Grows on the prairies in
the foothills to the mountains. The roots were used by medicine
men in doctoring. Red-hot stones were placed in water with the
roots. Fumes arose with the steam.
E-simatch-sis. Dye. Evernia vulpina. A lichen that grows on
pine trees. It was used as a yellow dye for porcupine quills. The
quills were placed with the dye in boiling water. It was also used
for headache.
E-simatch-sis. Dye. The Yellow Orthocarpus. Orthocarpus
luteus. Used for dyeing gopher skins red. The plant was first
pounded up and then pressed firmly upon the skin. It grows on the
prairies.
Ana-wawa-toks-tima. Buffalo-Food. Yellow Cancer-Root.
Thalesia fasciculata. Used by Buffalo medicine men in doctoring
wounds. They chewed and blew it upon the wound.
Sa-po-tun-a-kio-toi-yis. Joint Grass. Scouring Rush. Equise-
tum hiemale. The grass was boiled in water and used as a drink, for
horse medicine.
Pach-co-i-au-saukas. Smell-Mouth. Western Sweet Cicely.
Washingtonia divaricata. It was given to mares in winter. The
APPENDIX 323
Blackfoot say that it put them in good condition for foaling. They
placed it in the mares' mouths and made them chew it. A pleasant
drink was made with a small piece of the Western Sweet Cicely root,
a little more of the Sixocasim (Indian Horehound) to three cups of
water. It was taken hot for colds or tickling in the throat.
Tobacco
Ka-ka-sin. Larb, or Kinnikinick* Bearberry. Arctostaphylus
uva-ursi. The leaves, which are thick and evergreen, were dried and
used for tobacco. The berries were eaten raw and also used mashed
in fat and fried. It grows in Northern North America, also Northern
Europe and Asia.
O-makse-ka-ka-sin. Big Larb. Pipsissewa, Prince's Pine.
Chimaphila umbellata. It flourishes among decaying leaves in a
sandy soil in the mountain forests of Northern North America.
The dried leaves were used for tobacco by all the Mountain In-
dians. The Blackfoot had a special preference for the Big Larb in
smoking.
2. Plants for Ceremonials
Pono-kau-sinni. Turnip. Elk-Food. Narrow-leaved Puccoon.
Lithospermum linearifolium. The tops were dried and used for
burning as incense in ceremonials.
So-yo-toi-yis. Spring Grass or I-ta-pat-anis, Cut-your-finger.
Slough Grass Sedge. Carex nebrascensis praevia. The Blackfoot
said it was the favorite grass of the buffalo and for this reason the
medicine men tied it around the horns of the sacred Buffalo head
used in the Sun Dance ceremonials. It grows in marshy places on
the prairies.
A-pono-kauki. Paper-Leaves or O-to-kap-atsis. Yellow
Flower. Arrow-leaved Balsam-Root. Bahamorrhiza sagittata. The
large leaves were used in roasting Camas roots.
3. Berries and wild vegetables used for eating
Ok-kun-okin. Berry. Sarvis-Berry, June-Berry, Service-Berry,
Shadbush, May Cherry. Amelanchier oblongifolia. A tall shrub or
small tree growing on the prairies along side-hills and in river bot-
toms. The berries ripen in midsummer generally about the middle
of July. The Blackfoot used them in great quantities with stews,
soups, and meat. They also dried them for winter use. Violent
pains often followed the eating of raw Sarvis-Berries.
324 APPENDIX
Pukkeep. Chokecherry. Western Wild Cherry. Prunus de-
missa. The Blackfoot say it does not ripen till later than the Sarvis-
Berry, generally September or even October. They were used for
soups, eaten raw and pounded up and mixed with meat. The bark
was boiled and used internally in combination with roots of the
Western Sweet Cicely, Northern Valerian, and Sixocasim (Indian
Horehound).
Miss-is-a-misoi. Stink-Wood. Buffalo-Berry, Silver-Berry.
Elaeagnus argentea. The Blackfoot gave it the name of Stink- Wood
because of the bad smell of the smoke. In gathering firewood a
person was ridiculed if he brought in Stink- Wood. The berries
were used for soup. The bark was very tough and made strong rope
for tying skins and parfleches when rawhide was not at hand.
Im-a-toch-kot. Dog-Feet. Disporum tr achy car pum. It bears
yellow berries, which are eaten raw.
Po-kint-somo. Wild Rhubarb. Cow Parsnip. Heracleum lana-
tum. In the spring the stalks were eaten after roasting over hot
coals. The Blackfoot say the stalks are of two kinds, which they
designate by Napim (He) and Skim (She). They peeled and split
the stalk of the Skim before roasting but only peeled the Napim. A
stalk of the Po-kint-somo was placed on the altar of the Sun Dance
ceremonial.
Pach-op-it-skinni. Lumpy-Head. Wild Potato, Spring-Beauty.
Claytonia lanceolata. The Wild Potato grew on the prairies and in
the foothills of the mountains. The Blackfoot dug them in spring
for eating, preparing them for eating by boiling.
Ek-sik-a-pato-api. Looks Back. Smartweed. Polygonum
bistortoides. The root was used in soups and stews.
Pesat-se-nekim. Funny Vine. Wild Onion. Allium recurvatum.
Eaten raw and also used for flavoring.
Kach-a-tan. Tender-Root. Carolina Milk Vetch. Astragalus
carolinianus. The root was gathered in the spring or fall and eaten
raw or cooked by boiling in water. It grows on the gravel bottoms
or side-hills of the prairies.
Exixix. White-Root. Bitter-Root, State Flower of Montana,
Red-Head Louisa. Lewisia rediviva. The Blackfoot believed it was
healthy food. They prepared it by boiling in water. It grows
plentifully in the mountains.
Sax-ika-kitsim. Quick Smell. American Wild Mint. Mentha
canadensis. The leaves were placed in parfleches to flavor dried
meat. It was also used to make tea.
Mass. Wild Turnip. Elk Food. Lithospermum linearijolium.
APPENDIX 325
The roots were prepared for eating by boiling or roasting. It grows
on the prairies.
O-MUCK-Ai-ix-ixi. Big White-Root. Evening Primrose, Alkali
Lily. Musenium divaricatum. The Blackfoot say the root has no
flavor until dried. It was gathered in the fall and eaten raw. It
grows on the prairies.
Miss-issa. Camas. Camassia esculenta. The roots were gener-
ally dug in the fall after the blossoms had fallen. They were baked
by placing in a deep hole with heated rocks, leaves, and grass. A fire
was also kept burning on top of the ground. It was said to require
two days and two nights to cook them thoroughly in this way.
4. Perfumes
At-sina-mo. Gros Ventre Scent. Meadow-Rue. Thalictrum
occidentale. The berries were dried and placed in small buckskin
bags for perfumery.
Katoya. Sweet Pine. Balsam Fir. Abies lasiocarpa. The leaves
had a delightful odor when confined in a buckskin bag. Sweet Pine
was also mixed with grease in making hair oil to add fragrance.
Mat-o-at-sim. Perfumed Plant. Rayless Camomile, Oregon
Dog-Root, Dog Fennel. Matricaria matricarioides. The blossoms
were dried and used for perfumery.
Se-pat-semo. Sweet Grass. Vanilla Grass. Sevaslana odorata.
Sweet Grass was the most popular perfumery among the Blackfoot.
It was made into braids and placed with their clothes or carried
around in small bags. It was also used for a hair-wash and as in-
cense.
Pieces of punk from the Cottonwood tree, leaves of the Balsam
Poplar and the ring-bone from a horse's leg were used for perfumes.
Blackfoot names for flowers
Sik-a-pis-chis. White Flower. Aster commutatus.
Ota-kap-is-chis-kit-sima. Yellow Flower. Clasping-leaved
Arnica. Arnica amp/exi/olia.
A-pis-is-kit-sa-wa. Tomato-Flower. Red Rose. Rosa Sayi.
Ot-ska-a-pis-is-kit-sa. Blue Flower. Oblong-leaved Gentian.
Gentiana affinis.
A-sa-po-pin-ats. Looks-like-a-plume. Round-Fruited Anemone.
Anemone globosa. Its name was derived from the appearance of the
flower when it turns into cotton and resembles a soft, downy
feather.
326 APPENDIX
A-po-no-kau-ki. Paper-Leaves. Arrow-leaved Balsam-Root.
Balsamorrhiza sagittata. In the hot weather its large leaves become
very dry and resemble paper.
Sto-o-kat-sis. Ghost's Lariat. Columbian Virgin's-Bower.
Atragene columbiana. A vine, with a beautiful light blue flower,
that trails along the ground and also climbs trees. The Blackfoot
have named it Ghost's Lariat because it catches people and trips
them up unexpectedly.
INDEX
INDEX
Adder's-tongue, 6.
Agent, Indian, 86, 165.
Agoseris, 184.
Alberta (Canadian Province), 29, 145,
179.
All Chief Band, 251.
Altar, Sun Dance, 301, 305.
American Museum of Natural History,
217, 310.
Amusements, 74, 133, 196, 226, 254.
Anatapsa, granddaughter of Mad Wolf,
75> 8 5> 2 49-
Anemone, 161, 320.
Antelope, 151, 213, 254.
Antelope Dance, 295.
Antelope Song, 294.
A-pe-ech-e-ken, Indian name for author.
See White Weasel Moccasin.
Arnica, golden, 161.
Assiniboine Indians, 88; dog-feast of,
256.
Aster, 248.
Auriga, constellation, 143.
Aurora, 118, 227.
Autosuggestion in healing, 270.
Awasaki, prayer by, 308.
Bad-Old-Man, myth, 136.
Baldy, pack-horse of author, 100.
Bands, marriage within, 83; names of,
250, 251.
Bannock Indians, 251.
Barometer, 142, 152.
Barren Lands, 210.
Basket Grass, 6.
Bearberry, 45, 160, 323.
Bear Chief, 24, 251, 306, 307, 312.
Bear Dance, 64.
Bear Paw, 17, 149.
Bear Spear, 174-178.
Beaver, 159, 195, 254.
Beaver Bundle, 22, 37, 42-45; legend of,
46-53; rules of, 45; ceremony of, 54-
67; taboos, 71; 85.
Beaver Tepee, 264.
Begging dance, 291.
Behind-the-Ears, 276.
Belly River, 179.
Big Eyes, gives tepee to author, 261.
Big-Horn Sheep. See Sheep.
Big Moon, 284.
Big Rock Tepee, 260.
Big Spring, 290.
Big Stripe Tepee, 260, 264.
Birch, canoe, 9.
Bird, wife of Brings-Down-the-Sun, 189,
191.
Black Buffalo Tepee, 262.
Blackfoot, country, 14; our first sight of
the camp, 20.
Blackfoot Glacier, 14.
Blackfoot Mountain, 14.
Black Snake Man, former head chief,
87, 89.
Black Snake Woman, a wife of the head
chief, 90.
Black Weasel, dance leader, 276.
Blizzard, 16, 130-32, 137, 139, 149.
Blood Indians, 27; head men of, 30; 179,
184, 193.
Bluebells, 156, 161, 195.
Bluebird, mountain, 258.
Booth, in dancing-lodge, 311.
Botanical collection, 159, 179,319-26.
Boundary Creek, 29.
Boys, training of, 74.
Brave Dog Society, 252, 268, 284, 298,
"99> 3 OI >3 1 4-
Braves, Society, 219-22.
Brings-Down-the-Sun, medicine man,
165, 179, 188; camp of, 191, 201; con-
test with Bull Plume, 206-09; tells
about his father, 210-18; his children,
217; tells about Men's Societies, 219-
25; about the birds and the stars, 226-
39; farewell of, 240.
Buffalo Dance, 66.
Buffalo hunt, 155.
Buffalo Rock Bundle, 75.
Buffalo Song, 294.
33°
INDEX
Bull Child, medicine man, 22, 243, 248,
310, 311.
Bull Plume, medicine man, 194, 206-09.
Bull Shoe, race-horse, 279.
Bunched Stars. See Pleiades.
Burial customs, 155, 166, 272, 273.
Buttercup, snow, 161.
Camas, 20, 21, 160, 200, 325.
Canada, 27, 119, 165, 170.
Capella, 143.
Carnegie Museum of Pittsburgh, 319.
Catbird, 195.
Catches-Two-Horses, wife of the head
chief, 22, 56, 58, 60, 87.
Caterpillars, tent, dance of, 186.
Cedar, creeping, 197.
Cedar, giant, 9.
Celebration song, 281.
Center Pole, 303, 304, 308, 309, 311.
Ceremonies, adoption by Mad Wolf, 35-
41; Beaver Bundle, 56-67; Sun Dance,
88, 241; etc.; Medicine Pipe, 89, 90,
289-97; Bear Spear, 175; Crow Water,
201; tongues, 243-46; Otter Tepee,
259, 260; doctoring, 269-72; cutting
hide, 306, 307; plants used for, 323.
Chalice Cup, 162.
Chastity of women, 82, 246, 307.
Cheering songs, 312.
Cheyenne scouts, 10.
Chief Mountain, 170, 214, 242.
Chinook Indians, 152.
Chinook wind, 151, 152.
Chipmunk, 125.
Chokecherry, 187, 195, 256, 324.
Circle camp, 247, 258, 259, 267, 304.
Clematis, 161.
Cleveland Mountain, 14.
Cleveland, President Grover, Preface.
Climate, 10.
Clown, 300.
Columbine, yellow, 20.
Comet, legend of, 92-99; 227.
Coming Running and family, 252.
Conjunction of planets, 239.
Conservation by North Piegans, 193.
Continental Divide, 10, 12, 14, 15, 163.
Cony, 164.
Cottonwood, 154, 156, 187, 193, 325.
Coup, 304, 307, 314.
Coyote, 150, 187, 254, 268.
Cradle song, 291.
Crane, 185; as pet, 254.
Crane Dance, 295.
Cream Antelope, 285.
Cree Indians, 10, 84, 180, 199, 251, 261.
Cross Guns, son of head chief, 85, 88.
Crow Indians, 182, 201, 251, 261, 266,
277.
Crow Tepee, 263.
Crow Water ceremony, 201.
Curlew, 185, 258.
Curly Bear, judge, 22, 244.
Custer, General, 4, 10.
Custer Massacre, 10.
Cutbank Pass, 106.
Cutbank River, home of the scout, 22;
home of Mad Wolf, 68, 76; home of
head chief, 85; home of White Grass,
92.
Cutbank Trail, 20.
Cutbank Valley, 92, 101, 107.
Cypress Hills, 89.
Dances, Beaver, 58-67; frontier, 119—
22; sandpiper, 185; tent caterpillars,
186; grizzly bear, 220; mosquito, 222;
kit fox, 225; grass, 274-77; horse-
back, 278; kissing, 280; Brave Dog
Society, 286-88; begging, 291; Medi-
cine Pipe, 294, 295; Weather Makers,
3".-i3-
Dancing lodge, 304, 310-16.
Dancing Pipe, 279, 280.
Deer hunt, Black-tail, 164.
Deer Tepee, 265.
Diseases, contagious, 2^>-
Divide Mountain, 167, 242,
Doctoring, 269-73, 291.
Dog, as food, 256.
Dog Dance, 65.
Dolly Varden trout, 12, 1 58.
Don't Laugh Band, 251.
Double Runner, 37, 55, 244, 248, 304.
Dreams, 205, 271, 272.
Dutch oven, 105.
Dwarf People, 44.
Dye, 160, 322.
Eagle catching, 216.
Eagle Child, 24.
INDEX
33i
Eagle, golden, 124, 2l6.
Eagle Tepee, 265.
Eat-Before-Others Band, 251.
Eclipse of sun, 227.
Elk Dance, 306.
Elk Horn, herald, 274, 279, 284, 287,
292, 304.
Elk Song, 306.
Elk Tepee, 265.
Etiquette, 23, 30, 70, 71, 83.
Fairy rings, 179.
Fasting woman, 248, 250, 301, 306.
Father-in-law customs, 70, 81, 83.
Fat Melter Band, 251, 292.
Ferns, 9, 162.
Finch, purple, 159.
Fir, great silver, 9; Douglas, 161 i f alpine,
164.
First Strike, woman doctor, 268, 270.
Fishing, fly, II, 158.
Flag, blue, 258.
Flathead Forest Reserve, Preface; 5.
Flathead Indians, 106, 162, 251.
Flathead River, 8.
Flathead Valley, 6, 8.
Flat Tail, 277, 285.
Fleabane, 184.
Flowers, 6, 20, 154, 156, 160, 161, 184,
187, 195, 248, 258, 325.
Forget-me-not, 154, 162, 163, 187.
Four Bears, medicine man, 32, 89, 313.
Fox, kit, 258.
Fox, red, 14.
Gaillardia, 156, 195, 248.
Gambling, 8, 133, 197, 279.
Games. See Amusements.
Geese, 124, 153.
Gemini, constellation, 142.
Geranium, 187.
Ghosts. See Spirits.
Ghost Lariat. See Clematis.
Ghost stories, 114-18, 134-35, 166,
168-69.
Girls, training of, 74, 82.
Gives-to-the-Sun, wife of Mad Wolf, 37,
55. 5 8 > 74, 134, 242, 298, 305, 306,
Glacier National Park, Preface.
Globeflower, Western, 161.
Goat, Rocky Mountain, 14; hunt, 124-28.
Going-to-the-Sun Mountain, 54.
Goldfinch, 195.
Good Luck Song, 295.
Good-Old-Man, myth, 136, 151.
Grass, blue-eyed, 258.
Grass Dancers, 274-77.
Grasshopper, Blood chief, 30.
Grasshoppers, 185.
Graves, Henry S., Preface.
Grease Melter Band, 212.
Great Dipper (Ursa Major), 118, 137,
204; legend of, 229-31.
Grizzly bear, story, 17; author's experi-
ence with, 102-06; Medicine Grizzly,
106; 112; roping a grizzly, 121; 176,
186, 213, 217, 262; and Medicine
Pipe, 290; dances, 220, 294.
Gros Ventre Indians, 91, 107, 199, 266.
Ground squirrel, black, 153.
Grosbeak, evening, 159.
Grouse, 11, 160.
Guide. See Siksikaikoan.
Hail storm, 169.
Hair Parters. See Grass Dancers.
Hammock, baby, 189, 291.
Hard-Top-Knot Band, 251, 253.
Hare, crying, 129.
Hare, prairie, 258.
Heart Butte, 80.
Heather, 162.
Heavy Breast, story by, 17; 37, 55, 61,
248.
Heliotrope, 161.
Hemlock, 9.
Hollyhock, 184.
Horsemint, 160, 187, 321.
Horse race, 279.
Horses, character of Indian, 5, 13, 27,
ico, 101.
Huckleberries, 102.
Hudson Bay Divide, 76, 146, 167, 170.
Humor, Indian, 31, 63, 87, 136, 199, 202,
205, 289, 292.
Husband, potential, 65.
Hyades, constellation, 143.
Hymn, tribal, 308, 309.
Indian, manners of, 30, 71 ; character,
I in, 174.
33 2
Indian Mounted Police, 123, 146.
Inner Circle, 259.
Iron Shirt, former head chief, 212.
Jack rabbit, 109, 192.
Jackson Mountain, 14.
Jackson, William. See Siksikaikoan.
Japanese Current, 152.
Jennings, O. E., 319.
Jester, 300.
Jupiter, legend about, 232-39.
Katoyisa, 25, 26, 109, 121, 122.
Killdeer, 185, 258.
Kingbird, 227.
Kinglet, golden-crown, 6.
Kinnekinnick, 45, 323.
Kissing dance, 280.
Kit Fox Society, 223.
Kutenai Indians, 8, 106.
Kutenai, saddle horse of author, 9, 12,
27, 3 6 , io 9» I2 4, 13°. x 44, I5°> l8l >
242.
Lady's-slipper, 161.
Lance, sacred, 249, 278.
Larch, 6, 9.
Lark, horned, 157, 227, 258.
Laurel, swamp, 161.
Legends, of Beaver Bundle, 46-53;
Smoking Star, 92-99; Snow Tepee,
136-38; of Old Man, 1 71-73; Bear
Spear, 176-78; Bunched Stars, 228;
Seven Stars, 229-31; Star Boy and
Scarface, 232-39.
Lily, snow, 162, 163.
Limb catcher, 200.
Lion, Rocky Mountain, 151.
Little Creek, son-in-law of Mad Wolf,
68; character of, 70, 160; 74, 75, 109;
stories by, 117, 162; 124, 129, 153,
158-64.
Little Dog, former head chief, 213.
Little Dog, war chief, 22, 89, 251, 277,
299.
Little Mountain, 210.
Little Owl and family, 253.
Little Plume, war chief, 22, 251, 278,
299.
Little Sister, star in Ursa Major, 231.
Loco weed, 156, 320.
INDEX
Lodge poles, cutting of, 159.
Lone Chief, 290, 292-97.
Lone Dog, Sioux chief, 281.
Long Hair, 188, 226.
Longspur, chestnut-collared, 184.
Lookout Butte, 197.
Loon, 6.
Love medicine, 83, 136.
Love song, 78, 203, 204, 267.
Lupine, blue, 21.
Mad Indian, 1 II, 123; tragedy of, 1 44-48.
Mad Wolf (Siyeh), meeting with author,
22; adoption by, 35; personality, 37;
prayers by, 38-41; tells about the
past, 42; legend of Beaver Bundle,
46-53; gives Beaver Ceremony, 54-
67; his summer camp, 68-76; home,
76-79; story by, 71; experience with
ghost, 135; tells legend of Snow Tepee,
136-38; sun dance of, 242, 316; his
farewell, 315.
Mad Wolf Mountain. See Siyeh Moun-
tain.
Magpie, 216, 254.
Mandan Indians, 251.
Man-in-the-Moon, 5.
Marias River, 72, 73.
Marmot, hoary, 14, 125, 164.
Marriage customs, 80-84, 87.
Materia medica, 319-23.
Meadowlark, western, 23, 185,227, 242,
248.
Meals, time of, 199.
Meat, preparation of, 72, 149, 156, 167,
200, 256.
Medicinal plants, 73, 159, 160, 179, 226,
27 I ,3 I 9- 2 3-
Medicine Bull, weather dancer, 310-12.
Medicine Grizzly, story of, 106-08.
Medicine Owl, 263.
Medicine Pipe, 71, 89, 90, 193, 213, 281,
290, 292-97, 315.
Medicine Robe, 217, 310.
Medicine Weasel, 248, 261.
Men, work of, 70.
Meteor, 239.
Mexico, 86, 210.
Mice, 129.
Middle Calf, 37, 55, 61, 107, 244, 248,
3°5-
INDEX
333
Miles, General, 4, 10.
Milk River, 73.
Milky way, 238.
Missionary meeting, 24.
Mistake Morning Star, 238, 301.
Monkey flower, 163.
Moons, calendar of, 228.
Mormons, 29.
Morning Eagle, 253, 300.
Morning Plume, 37, 244, 248, 29I, 302.
Morning Star, 232-39.
Mosquito Society, 222, 314.
Mother-in-law customs, 32, 70, 83, 201.
Mother-in-law of scout, 32.
Mountain Chief, 276, 285, 312.
Mountain Sheep Tepee, 265.
Mourning customs, 64, 181, 272, 273.
Mourning song, 314.
Music, Indian, 21, 78, 203, 275, 278,
280-83, 308.
Natosin, chief from the north, 254.
Nez Perce, Indians, 163, 251.
Night Gun, 275, 280.
Nighthawk, 159.
Night singers, 267, 268, 283.
Night song, 202, 203, 283.
Ninake, 25, 109, 121.
Nitana, 109; ghost story by, 114-116;
153. T 5 8 > J 75» l86 > l8 9-
Northern Pacific Railway, 119.
North Piegan Indians, 184.
North Trail, Old, 166, 170, 210.
Nor' wester, 150.
North-West Mounted Police, 30, I47,
165, 213.
Old Man (Napi), 171, 187.
Old Man's Gambling Place, 187.
Old Man's River, 165.
Old Man's Sliding Place, 187.
Old Man Stories, 171.
Old Person, visit to Sand Hills, 115.
One Spot, Blood Indian, 180, 181.
Onesta, 109, 153, 155, 158, 168; char-
acter of, 174; songs by, 185, 186; 188,
191, 199-208.
Orchid, 20.
Oregon grape, 160, 321.
Orion, constellation, 142.
Otter Tepee, 259, 260.
Ouzel, water, 10, 12.
Oven bird, 3.
Owl, superstitions, 16, II4-18.
Pack horses, characteristics of, 5, 13,
100, 101.
Paint-brush, Indian, 156, 195.
Painted-cup, 258.
Painted tepees, 68, 136-38, 201, 258-66.
Parade, tribal, 299, 300.
Parfleche, 69, 255.
Parsnip, cow, III, 160, 200, 306, 320,
3 2 4-,
Pemmican, 156, 199, 256.
Pend d'Oreille Indians, 251.
Perfumes, 77, 179, 325.
Pets, 254, 268, 269.
Phacelia, 156.
Photographing, Preface; mountains, 104;
snow scenes, 128; 160; ceremonies,
245; 259; a doctor and his patient,
269; Medicine Pipe ceremony, 292.
Picture writing, 149, 207, 212, 258-66,
275> 3°°, 301,310, 3"«
Pinchot, Gifford, Preface.
Pine, yellow, 6; white, 9, 10; lodge-pole,
161; limber, 161.
Pine Tree Tepee of author, 261.
Pipsissewa, 160, 323.
Pleiades, constellation, 5, 143; legend of,
228.
Polygamy, 82, 83.
Poplar, western balsam, 154, 156, 184,
193,325.
Porcupine, 41.
Porcupine Hills, 186, 197, 217.
Prairie chicken, 185.
Prayers, to bear, 19; by Mad Wolf, 38-
41 ; to Water Spirits, 46; to beaver, 60;
by White Grass, 61 ; by head chief, 62;
by a woman, 88; by scout, 150; before
eating, 180, 202; by Brings-Down-the-
Sun, 240; to Sun, 243; by woman
doctor, 270; by man doctor, 272; by
head chief, 303.
President of United States, 277, 315.
Primrose, 184.
Ptarmigan, willow, 129.
Puccoon, narrow-leaved, 175, 187, 323.
Rabbit, snowshoe, 129, 153.
334
INDEX
Rainbow, 151, 227, 311.
Rainbow Tepee, 264.
Ranch, Lone Wolf, 25, 120, 121; of
scout, 22-27, 32, 139-52; of Mad Wolf,
76-79; of head chief, 85-91; of White
Grass, 92.
Raspberries, 102.
Rattler, doctor, 67, 268-72.
Raven, 57, 227.
Records, on skins, 149, 207, 212; of war,
265, 266, 300.
Red Fox, 282, 283, 300.
Red Rover, dog, 144.
Religion, Blackfoot, 16, 19, 192, 241,
242.
Reno's command, 10.
Riding song, 282.
Riel Rebellion, 10.
Rising Wolf Mountain, 54.
Robe, Medicine, 217, 310.
Robin, 258.
Rocky Mountains, 5, 19, 28, 54, 124,
130, 141, 150, 152, 156, 170, 258, 316.
Running Crane, 22, 251, 277, 316.
Running Fisher, 255.
Running Rabbit, 134, 256.
Running Wolf, 202, 210.
St. Mary River, 170, 179, 214.
Salmo clarkii, 12.
Sand Hills, 115, 134, 272.
Sandpiper, spotted, 227, 258.
Sandpiper Dance, 185.
Sarcee Indians, 251.
Saskatchewan River, 86.
Scalp Dance, 91, 107.
Scarface, legend, 236-39; 302, 309.
Scout. See Siksikaikoan.
Service berry, 180, 195, 323.
Seven Stars. See Great Dipper.
Sham battle, 277, 278, 312, 313.
Sheep, Rocky Mountain, 16; hunt, III-
14; 164.
Sherman, General W. T., report of, II.
Shield, sacred, 249, 278.
Shooting stars, 21, 156, 161.
Shoots-in-the-Air, judge, 22.
Short Robe, chief of Brave Dogs, 284,
286, 288.
Sign language, 9, 56, 57, 180, 294.
Siksikaikoan (William Jackson), char-
acter and life, 4, 10, II, 14, 102;
accident to, 20; home of, 22-27, 3 2 >
m I49-5 2 -.
Sioux Indians, 10, 85, 251, 280.
Sioux songs, 281, 282.
Sirius, 142.
Siyeh. See Mad Wolf.
Siyeh (Mad Wolf) Mountain, 14.
Skunk, 204.
Skunk Band, 251.
Skunk Song, 196.
Skylark, Missouri, 157.
Slim, cowboy, 119-23.
Small Otter, grandson of Mad Wolf, 74,
243-
Smallpox, 212, 213.
Small Robe Band, 251.
Smoking Star, legend, 92.
Snake Indians, 51, 212.
Snake Tepee, 263.
Snow banners, 150.
Snowberry, shrub, 258.
Snow Tepee, of Mad Wolf, 68; taboos of,
71; legend of, 136-38; decorations,
262, 263.
Societies, men's, 219-25, 274-77, 284-88,
314.
Songs, Indian, 21, 78; to Sun, 38; gam-
bling, 133; of Sandpiper Dance, 185; of
Tent Caterpillar Dance, 186; skunk,
196; night, 203; love, 203; contest
with songs, 202-04; mosquito, 222;
dance, 275; victory, 278; of kissing
dance, 280; celebration, 281; wolf,
281; riding, 282; sacred, 301-03;
tribal hymn, 308, 309.
Sparrow, Gambel, 160.
Sparrow, lark, 154, 156.
Sparrow, white-crowned, 23, 159, 195.
Speeches, by Mountain Chief, 276, 312;
by Running Crane, 277; Bear Chief,
307; Mad Wolf, 315, 316.
Spirits, beliefin, 16, 17, 114-18, 134-35,
166, 168, 169, 217, 272.
Spirit world. See Sand Hills.
Spotted Eagle, medicine man, character
of, 170; story by, 171-73; 298, 299,
310-14.
Spruce, Engelmann, 161.
Star Boy, legend, 232-36.
Stories, about a bear, 17; The Warrior
INDEX
335
who ate his Foot, 33; by Mad Wolf,
71; The Medicine Grizzly, 106;
ghosts, 168-69, 1 14-18, 134-35; of
Mad Indian, 144-48; buffalo hunt,
155; of Swift Eagle, 162; about the
past, 167; Old Man and the Squirrels,
171-73; Red Head, 182; by Brings-
Down-the-Sun, 210-18; war, 311,312.
Strawberries, 23, 195.
Strikes-on-Both-Sides, daughter of Mad
Wolf, 38, 54; dance by, 66; 68, 69, 75;
favorite of her father, 77; ghost stories
by, 114, 134; 153. 220 > 2 53> 2QI -
Stuyimi, death of, 268-73.
Suicide, 314.
Sun, the Great Power, 16, 24I.
Sun Dance, 21, 82, 88, 192, 217, 24I-316.
Sun Dance Bundle, 244.
Sun dogs, 130, 150, 227, 301, 311.
Sunflowers, 21, 258.
Sun Pole, 304, 305, 308, 309, 311,
Sun River, 153.
Swan Dance, 295.
Swans, 124.
Swans, whistling, 153.
Swallows, 185.
Sweat lodge, 77, 298, 299.
Sweet grass, 77, 179, 319, 325.
Sweet Grass Hills, 54, 72, 258.
Taboos, of Beaver Bundle, 45, 7IJ of
Snow Tepee, 71, 263; Thunder Tepee,
204; 261; of Medicine Pipe, 214, 296,
297; Buffalo Tepees, 262.
Tanning skins, 72, 167, 255.
Taurus, constellation, 143.
Tears-in-Her-Eyes, niece of Mad Wolf,
253, 291.
Temperature, winter, I40, I42; summer,
185.
Terry, General, 10.
Thimbleberry, 101.
Thrush, olive-backed, 6; willow, 23, 157,
159,242.
Thunder, 194, 215, 227, 297, 310.
Thunder Bird, 16, 68, 200, 263, 264,
295.
Thunder Chief, head man of the Bloods,
3°-
Thunder Dance, 295.
Thunder Pipe, 21 4- 16.
Thunder Tepee, 201; taboos of, 202, 204;
264.
Timber-line, 103, 161.
Tobacco, 44, 160, 323.
Tongues, sacred, 244-46, 307, 308, 314.
Torture, self, 314.
Toys, children's, 74, 196, 226, 254.
Trails, Indian, 20, 25, 100, ill, 129, 166,
170, 185, 210.
Traveling Song, 282.
Traveling-tepee of author, 68; decora-
tions of, 261, 262.
Triple Divide Mountain, 14.
Trout, 11, 158.
Turnip, prairie, 160, 200, 324.
Twin flower, 6.
Two-Bear-Woman, mother-in-law of
scout, 32.
Two Medicine River, 134, 154.
Two Guns, son of White Calf, 85, 135,
136.
Underground spirits, 17, 40, 180, 308.
United States Government, 85, 87, 119.
Vegetables, wild, 156, 160, 200, 323.
Venus, morning star, 232, 239.
Vermin, 199.
Vetch, 258, 324.
Violets, 154, 195.
Vows, by men, 88, 208, 255, 260, 313.
Vows, by women, 82, 88, 242, 243, 245,
2 59> 3°7-
Warbler, Macgillivray, 6.
Warbler, myrtle, 6.
War Bridle, sacred, 278.
War horse, 300, 312.
War song, 203, 278.
War Tepee, 256, 265, 266.
Water Monster Tepee, 264.
Weather Dancers, 310-13.
Weather Makers, 301.
Wheel game, 197.
Whiskey, 36.
Whistling-All-Night, 192.
White Antelope, wife of scout, 22, 32.
White Calf, the head chief, 22, 43, 55,
56; dance by, 61 ; prayers by, 62, 303;
wives of, 83; home of, 85; character,
85; 244, 298, 305, 308, 309.
33&
INDEX
White Grass, medicine man, 22, 55, 58;
prayer by, 61; author painted by, 62;
character, 92; 243, 248, 261, 279.
White Weasel Moccasin, Indian name of
author, 61; in Buffalo Dance, 66; 136,
191, I94, 206.
Willow Creek, 247, 250.
Wind-flower, 162, 320.
Wind Maker, 16.
Winter-counts, 212.
Winter Tepee. See Snow Tepee.
Wipes-His-Eyes, 260.
Wives, number of, 82; distant, 83.
Wolf Eagle, 276.
Wolf Plume, 22,313.
Wolf Song, 281.
Wolf Tail, son of head chief, 85, 260.
Wolf Trail. See Milky way.
Wolverine, 129, 160.
Wolves, gray, 150, 210.
Women, industries of, 200, 255, 256;
chastity of, 82, 246, 307; vows by, 82,
242, 243, 245, 307.
Woodcraft, 5.
Woodpecker, 226.
Worm People Band, 251.
Wren, winter, 6.
Yellow Bird, relative of scout, 24-31,
109-14, 121, 139-46.
Yellow Buffalo Tepee, 262.
Yellow Owl, 84.
Yellowstone River, 87, 211, 213.
Yellow-throat, Western, 159, 195, 258.
>C585
fcOO
