July 12, 1915.
AFTER an absence of many years, I have returned to visit for a time my Blackfeet relatives and friends, and we are camping along the mountain trails where, in the long ago, we hunted buffalo, and elk, and moose, and all the other game peculiar to this region.
To-day we pitched our lodges under Rising Wolf Mountain, that massive, sky-piercing, snow-crested height of red-and-gray rock which slopes up so steeply from the north shore of Upper Two Medicine Lake. This afternoon we saw upon it, some two or three thousand feet up toward its rugged crest, a few bighorn and a Rocky Mountain goat. But we may not kill them! Said Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill: “There they are! Our meat, but the whites have taken them from us, even as they have taken everything else that is ours!” And so we are eating beef where once we feasted upon the rich ribs and loins of game, which tasted all the better because we trailed and killed it, and with no little labor brought it to the womenfolk in camp.
Rising Wolf Mountain! What a fitting and splendid monument it is to the first white man to traverse the foothills of the Rockies between the Saskatchewan and the Missouri! Hugh Monroe was his English name. His father was Captain Hugh Monroe, of the English army; his mother was Amélie de la Roche, a daughter of a noble family of French émigrés. Hugh Monroe, Junior, was born in Montreal in 1798. In 1814 he received permission to enter the employ of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and one year later—in the summer of 1815—he arrived at its new post, Mountain Fort, on the North Fork of the Saskatchewan and close to the foothills of the Rockies.
At that time the Company had but recently entered Blackfeet territory, and none of its engagés understood their language; an interpreter was needed, and the Factor appointed Monroe to fit himself for the position. The Blackfeet were leaving the Fort to hunt and trap along the tributaries of the Missouri during the winter, and he went with them, under the protection of the head chief, who had nineteen wives and two lodges and an immense band of horses. By easy stages they traveled along the foot of the Rockies to Sun River, where they wintered, and then in the spring, instead of returning to the Saskatchewan, they crossed the Missouri, hunted in the Yellowstone country that summer, wintered on the Missouri at the mouth of the Marias River, and returned to Mountain Fort the following spring with all the furs their horses could carry.
Instead of one winter, Monroe had passed two years with the tribe, and in that time had acquired a wife, a daughter of the great chief, a good knowledge of the language, and an honorable name, Ma-kwi′-i-po-wak-sĭn (Rising Wolf), which was given him because of his bravery in a battle with the Crows in the Yellowstone country.
During Monroe’s two years’ absence from the Fort, another engagé had learned the Blackfeet language from a Cree Indian, who spoke it well, so that this man became the interpreter, and Monroe was ordered to remain with the Piegan tribe of the Blackfeet, to travel with them, and see that they came annually to the Fort to trade in the winter catch of furs. And this exactly suited him; he much preferred roaming the plains with his chosen people; the stuffy rooms of the Fort had no attractions for a man of his nature.
How I envy Hugh Monroe, the first white man to traverse the plains lying between the Upper Saskatchewan and the Upper Missouri, and the first to see many portions of the great stretch of the mountain region between the Missouri and the Yellowstone. He has himself often told me that “every day of that life was a day of great joy!”
Monroe was a famous hunter and trapper, and a warrior as well. He was a member of the Ai′-in-i-kiks, or Seizer band of the All Friends Society, and the duty of the Seizers was to keep order in the great camp, and see that the people obeyed the hunting laws—a most difficult task at times. On several occasions he went with his and other bands to war against other tribes, and once, near Great Salt Lake, when with a party of nearly two hundred warriors, he saved the lives of the noted Jim Bridger and his party of trappers. Bridger had with him a dozen white men and as many Snake Indians, the latter bitter enemies of the Blackfeet. The Snakes were discovered, and the Blackfeet party was preparing to charge them, when Monroe saw that there were white men behind them. “Stop! White men are with them! We must let them go their way in peace!” Monroe shouted to his party.
“But they are Snake white men, and therefore our enemy: we shall kill them all!” the Blackfeet chief answered. However, such was Monroe’s power over his comrades that he finally persuaded them to remain where they were, and he went forward with a flag of truce, and found that his friend Jim Bridger was the leader of the other party. That evening white men and Snakes and Blackfeet ate and smoked together! It was a narrow escape for Bridger and his handful of men.
Monroe had three sons and three daughters by his Indian wife, all of whom grew into fine, stalwart men and women. Up and down the country he roamed with them, trapping and hunting, and often fighting hostile war parties. They finally all married, and in his old age he lived with one and another of them until his death, in 1896, in his ninety-eighth year. We buried him near the buffalo cliffs, down on the Two Medicine River, where he had seen many a herd of the huge animals decoyed to their death. And then we named this mountain for him. A fitting tribute, I think, to one of the bravest yet most kindly men of the old, old West!
At the upper east side and head of this beautiful lake rises a pyramidal mountain of great height and grandeur. A frowse of pine timber on its lower front slope, and its ever-narrowing side slopes above, give it a certain resemblance to a buffalo bull. Upon looking at a recent map of the country I found that it had been named “Mount Rockwell.” So, turning to Yellow Wolf, I said: “The whites have given that mountain yonder the name of a white man. It is so marked upon this paper.”
The old man, half blind and quite feeble, roused up when he heard that, and cried out: “Is it so? Not satisfied with taking our mountains, the whites even take away the ancient names we have given them! They shall not do it! You tell them so! That mountain yonder is Rising Bull Mountain, and by that name it must ever be called! Rising Bull was one of our great chiefs: what more fitting than that the mountain should always bear his name?”
“Rising Bull was a chief in two tribes,” Yellow Wolf went on. “In his youth he married a Flathead girl, at a time when we were at peace with that people, and after a winter or two she persuaded him to take her across the mountains for a visit with her relatives. Rising Bull came to like them and all the Flathead people so well that he remained with them a number of winters, and because of his bravery, and his kind and generous nature, the Flatheads soon appointed him one of their chiefs. When he was about forty winters of age, some young men of both tribes quarreled over a gambling game and several were killed on each side. That, of course, ended the peace pact; war was declared, and as Rising Bull could not fight his own people, he came back to us with his Flathead wife, and was a leader in the war, which lasted for several years. When that was ended, he continued to lead war parties against the Crows, the Sioux, the Assiniboines, and the far-off Snakes, and was always successful. Came the dreadful Measles Winter, and with hundreds of our people, he died. He left a son, White Quiver, a very brave young warrior, and two years after his father’sdeath, he was killed in a raid against the Crows.”
“Ai! Rising Bull was a brave man. And oh, so gentle-hearted! So good to the widows and orphans; to all in any kind of distress! We must in some way see that this mountain continues to bear his name,” said Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill.
And to that I most heartily agree.
We are a considerable camp of people: Yellow Wolf, my old uncle-in-law; Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill, another uncle-in-law; Big Spring; Two Guns; Black Bull; Stabs-by-Mistake; Eagle Child; Eli Guardipe, or Takes-Gun-Ahead. And with them they have their eleven women and fourteen children. All are my especial friends, and all the men have been to war—some of them many times—and have counted coup upon the enemy. Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill has many battle scars on different parts of his body. I was with him when he got the last one, in a fight with the Crees. The bullet struck him in the forehead, ripped open the scalp clear to the back of his head, but did not penetrate the skull. He dropped instantly when struck, and we at first thought that he was dead. It was some hours before he regained consciousness.
With all these men, and especially Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill and Guardipe, I hunted and traveled much in the old days. Naturally, we spend much of our time telling over this-and-that of our adventures. Meantime the children play around, as happy as Indian children ever are, and their mothers do the lodge work, which is light, and gather in groups to chat and joke. The boys have just been skipping stones on the smooth surface of the lake. The number of skips a stone makes before it finally sinks, denotes the number of wives the caster will have when he reaches manhood.
Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill and Two Guns are medicine men. The former has the Elk medicine pipe, the latter the Water medicine pipe, both ancient medicines in the tribe. They are spiritual, not material, medicines. In fact, they are the implements used in prayers to the sun and other gods, and each carries with it a ritual of its own. Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill has just told me that we will have some prayers with his pipe a few days from now. I shall be glad to take part in it all once more.
Again my people are filled with resentment against the whites. I told them this afternoon that the falls in the river between this and the lower lake had been given a foolish white men’s name. I could not tell them what it was, for there is no Blackfeet equivalent for the word “Trick.” But what a miserable, circus-suggesting name that is to give to one of the most beautiful of waterfalls, and the only one of its kind in America, and in all the world, for all I know! A short distance below the outlet of the upper lake the river sinks, and a half-mile farther on gushes into sight from a jagged hole halfway up the side of a high and almost perpendicular cliff.
“In the long ago we named that Pi′tamakan Falls,” said Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill.
“Yes? And who was he?” I asked, although I had a fair recollection of the story of that personage. But I had forgotten the details of it, and wanted them all.
“Not he, but she!” he corrected me.
“But Pi′tamakan (Running Eagle) is a man’s name,” I objected.
“True. But this woman earned the right to bear a man’s name, and so it was given her. She was the only woman of our people to receive that honor, so far as I know. Listen! You shall hear all about it.”
THE WOMAN WHO EARNED A MAN’S NAME
“As a girl, her name was Weasel Woman. She was the eldest of two brothers and two sisters, and when she had seen fifteen winters both their father and mother died. But unlike children in such circumstances, they did not give up their lodge and scatter out to live with relatives and friends. Said Weasel Woman: ‘Somehow, some way, we can manage to live. You boys are old enough to hunt and bring in meat and skins. We three sisters will keep the lodge in good order, and tan the skins for our clothing and bedding, and other uses.’ And as she said, so it was done, and the orphan family prospered.
“But Weasel Woman was not satisfied. Many young men and many old and rich men wanted to marry her, and to all she said ‘No!’ so loudly, and so quickly, that after a time all knew that she would not marry. Wherever a party of warriors gathered for a dance or a feast, there she was looking on, listening to their talk, and giving what help she could. And when a party returned from war, she was loudest in praising them. All she talked of, all she thought about, was war.
“On an evening in her twentieth summer a large party of warriors started out to cross the mountains and raid the Flatheads. They traveled all night, and when daylight came found that Weasel Woman was with them.
“‘If you will not let me go with you, I shall follow you,’ she said.
“And then spoke up the medicine man of the party: ‘Chief,’ said he, ‘I advise you to allow her to go with us; something tells me that she will bring us good luck.’
“‘Ah! As you advise me, so shall it be,’ said the war chief; and the woman went on with them. No man of that party teased her, nor bothered her in any way: every one of them treated her as they would a sister. It was the strangest war party that ever set forth from any tribe of the plains!
“It was at the edge of Flathead Lake that they discovered the enemy, a large camp of the Flatheads and their friends, the Pend d’Oreilles. When night came they went close up to it, and the woman said to the war chief: ‘Let me go in first. Let me see what I can do. I feel that I shall be successful in there.’
“The woman went into the camp, where all the best horses of the people—their fast buffalo runners, their racers, and their stallions—were picketed close to the lodges of the different owners of them. If she was afraid of being discovered and killed, she never admitted it. The dying moon gave light enough for her to see the size and color of the horses. She took her time and went around among them, and, making her choice, cut the ropes of three fine pinto horses, and led them out to where the party awaited her. There she tied them, and went back into camp with the chief and his men and again came out with three horses. Said she then: ‘I have taken enough for this time. I will await you here and take care of what we have.’
“The men went back several times, and then, having all the horses that they could drive rapidly, the party struck for the mountains, and in several days’ time arrived home without the loss of a man or a horse.
“A few days after the party came into camp the medicine lodge was put up, and on the day that the warriors counted their coups, and new names were given them, an old warrior and medicine man called Weasel Woman before the people, and had her count her coup—of going twice into the enemy’s camp and taking six horses. All shouted approval of that, and then the medicine man gave her the name, Pi′-ta-mak-an, a very great one, that of a chief whose shadow had some time before gone on to the Sand Hills.
“After that Pi′tamakan, as we now may call her, did not have to sneak after a party in order to go to war with them: she was asked to go. And after two or three more successful raids against different enemies, the Crows, the Sioux, and the Flatheads, she herself became a war chief, and warriors begged to be allowed to join her parties, because they believed that where she led nothing but good luck would come to them. She now wore men’s clothing when on a raid. At home she wore her woman clothing. But even in that dress she, like any man, gave feasts and dances, and the greatest chiefs and warriors came to them, and were glad to be there.
“On her sixth raid, Pi′tamakan led a large war party against the Flatheads, and somewhere on the other side of the mountains fell in with a war party of Bloods, one of our brother tribes of the North. For several days the two parties traveled along together, and then one evening the Blood chief, Falling Bear, said to Pi′tamakan’s servant: ‘Go tell your chief woman that I would like to marry her.’
“‘Chief, you do not understand,’ the boy told him. ‘She is not that kind. Men are her brothers, and nothing more. She will never marry. I cannot give her your message, for I am afraid that she would be angry with me for carrying it to her.’
“On the next day, as they were traveling along, the Blood chief said to Pi′tamakan: ‘I have never loved, but I love now. I love you; my heart is all yours; let us marry.’
“And with that the Blood chief said no more, but felt encouraged: he thought that in time she would agree to become his woman.
“That very evening the scouts ahead discovered a large camp of Flathead and Kootenai Indians, more than a hundred lodges of them, and when night came both parties drew close in to it. Pi′tamakan then ordered her followers to remain where they were and told the Blood chief to say the same thing to his men. She then told the Blood chief to go into the camp and take horses, and he went in and returned with one horse.
“‘It is now my turn,’ said Pi′tamakan, and she went in and brought out two horses.
“The Blood chief went in and brought out two horses.
“Pi′tamakan went in and brought out four horses.
“The Blood chief went in and brought out two horses.
“Pi′tamakan went in and brought out one horse. And then she said to the Blood chief: ‘Our men are becoming impatient to go in there and take horses. We will each of us go in once more, and then let them do what they can.’
“So the Blood chief went in for the fourth and last time, and came back leading four horses, making nine in all. And then Pi′tamakan went in and cut the ropes of eight horses, and safely led them out, making in all fifteen that she had taken. The warriors then went in, making several trips, and then, with all the horses that could be easily driven, the big double party headed for home.
“On the next day, as Pi′tamakan and the Blood chief were riding together, he said to her: ‘I love you so much that I can wait no longer for my answer. Give it to me now. I believe that you are going to say, “Yes, I will be your woman.”’
“That was her way of getting around saying ‘no’ to the chief. She had beaten him, an old, experienced warrior, in the taking of the enemy’s horses, and he could not ask her again to become his woman. It is said that he felt very badly about it all.
“Pi′tamakan now carried a gun when she went to war, and used it well in several fights with the enemy, counting in all three coups, each one of them the taking of a gun from the man she herself killed. And then, haiya! On her ninth raid she led a party against the Flatheads, and while she and all her men were in the camp, choosing horses and cutting their ropes, the Flatheads discovered them and began firing, and she and five of her men were killed. And so passed Pi′tamakan, virgin, and brave woman chief of our people. She died young, about seventy winters ago.”
Okan, his vision, is the name the Blackfeet have for the great lodge which they annually give to the sun, and for the four days of ceremonies attending its erection and consecration. In our vernacular it is the medicine lodge. I asked Yellow Wolf this afternoon why this river was named Nat′-ok-i-o-kan, or, as we say, Two Medicine Lodge River, and he replied that when the Blackfeet first took this great country from the Crows, they built a medicine lodge on the river, just below the buffalo cliffs. The next summer they built another one in the same place, and owing to that the river got its name.
Yes, this was once the country of the Crows. But the Blackfeet saw and coveted it. It was about two hundred years ago, as near as I can learn, that they came into it from their original home, the region of Peace River and the Slave Lakes, and little by little forced the Crows southward until they had driven them to the south side of the Yellowstone, or Elk River, as it is known to the various Indian tribes of the plains.
Perhaps, in the first place, the Blackfeet coveted more than anything else the cliffs on the Two Medicine,—just above Holy Family Mission,—where the buffalo were decoyed in great numbers and stampeded in a huge waterfall of whirling brown bodies to death on the rocks below.
The Blackfeet call such a place—there were several of them—a pi′skan, a trap. Extending back from the cliff, for a mile or more out on the plain, were two ever-diverging lines of rock piles, like a huge letter V. Behind these the people concealed themselves, and the buffalo caller, going out beyond the mouth of the V, by certain antics and motions aroused the curiosity of the herd until it finally followed him into the V. Then the people began to rise up behind it, and the result was that, unable to turn either to the right or left, from fear of the two lines of shouting, robe-waving stampeders, it was driven straight to the cliff and over it.
Last night, while the pipe was going the rounds, I asked what had become of old Red Eagle’s Thunder Medicine Pipe, and was told that it was still in the tribe, Old Person at present being the owner of it. Said Two Guns: “That is one of the most ancient and most powerful medicines we have. Do you know how it came into our possession?”
THE STORY OF THE THUNDER MEDICINE
“It was in the long ago. Our fathers had no horses then, but used dogs to carry their belongings.
“One spring, needing the skins of bighorn to tan into soft leather for clothing, the tribe moved up here to the foot of the Lower Two Medicine Lake, and began hunting. Many men would surround and climb a mountain, driving the bighorn ahead of them, their dogs helping, and at last they would come up to the game, often several hundred head, on the summit of the mountain. The dogs were then held back, and the hunters, advancing with ready bow and arrows, would shoot and shoot the bighorn at close range and generally kill the most of them.
“One day, while most of the men were hunting, three young, unmarried women went out to gather wood, and while they were collecting it in little piles here and there, a thunderstorm came up. Then said one of them, a beautiful girl, tall, slender, long-haired, big-eyed, ‘O Thunder! I am pure! I am a virgin! If you will not strike us I promise to marry you whenever you want me!’
“Thunder passed on, not harming them, and the young women gathered up their firewood and went home.
“On another day these three young women went out again for firewood, one ahead of another along the trail in the deep woods, and Mink Woman, she who had promised herself to Thunder Man, was last of the three. She was some distance behind the others and singing happily as she stepped along, when out from the brush in front of her stepped a very fine-looking, beautifully dressed man, and said: ‘Well, here I am. I have come for you.’
“‘No, not for me! You are mistaken. I am not that kind; I am a pure woman,’ she answered.
“‘But you can’t go back on your word. You promised yourself to me if I would not strike you, and I did not harm you. Don’t you know me? I am Thunder Man.’
“Mink Woman looked closely at him, and her heart beat fast from fear. But he was good to look at, he had the appearance of a kind and gentle man, and—although thoughtlessly—she had made a promise to him, a god, and she could not break it. So she answered: ‘I said that I would marry you. Well, here I am, take me!’
“Her two companions had passed on; they saw nothing of this meeting. Thunder Man stepped forward, and kissed her, then took her in his arms, and, springing from the ground, carried her up into the sky to the land of the Above People.
“But the two young women soon missed her. They ran back on the trail, and searched on all sides of it, and called and called to her, and of course got no reply: ‘She may have gone home for something,’ said one of them, and they hurried back to camp. She was not there. They then gave the alarm, and all the people scattered out to look for her. They hunted all that day, and wandered about in the woods all night, calling her name, and got no answer.
“The next morning Mink Woman’s father, Lame Bull, made medicine and called in Crow Man, a god who sometimes lived with the people. ‘My daughter, Mink Woman, has disappeared,’ he told the god. ‘Find her, even learn where she went, and you shall have her for your wife.’
“‘I take your word,’ Crow Man answered him. ‘I believe that I can learn where she went. I may not be able to get her now, but I will some time, and then you will not forget this promise. I have always wanted her for my woman.’
“Crow Man went to the two young women and got them to show him where they had last seen Mink Woman. He then called a magpie to him, and said to the bird: ‘Fly around here and find this missing woman’s trail.’
“The bird flew around and around, Crow Man following it, and at last it fluttered to the ground, and looked up at him, and said: ‘To this spot where I stand came the woman, and here her trail ends.’
“‘Is it so!’ Crow Man exclaimed. ‘Well stand just where you are and move that long, shining black tail of yours. Move it up and down, and sideways. Twist it in every direction that you can.’
“The magpie did as he was told, and Crow Man got down on hands and knees, and went around, watching the shifting, wiggling, fanning tail. Suddenly he cried out: ‘There! Hold your tail motionless in just that position!’ and he moved up nearer and looked more closely at it. The sun was shining brightly upon it, and the glistening black feathers mirrored everything around. They were now spread directly behind the bird’s body, and reflected the tree-tops, and the sky beyond them. Long, long, Crow Man stared at the tail, the people looking on and holding their breath, and at last he said to Lame Bull, ‘I can see your daughter, but she is beyond my reach: I cannot fly there. She is up in sky land, and Thunder Man has her!’
“‘Ai! Ai! She did promise herself to him the other day, if he would spare us,’ one of the two wood gatherers said, ‘but she did not mean it; she was only joking. It is no joke!’
“Lame Bull sat down and covered his head with his robe, and wept, and would not be comforted.
“Thunder Man took Mink Woman to sky land with him, and somehow, from the very first she was happy there with him; she seemed to forget at once all about this earth and her parents and the people. It was a beautiful land up there: warm and sunny, a country just like ours except that it had no storms. Buffalo and all the other animals covered the plains, and all sorts of grasses and trees and berry-bushes and plants grew there as they do here.
“But although Mink Woman was very happy there, Thunder Man was always uneasy about her, and kept saying to his people, ‘Watch her constantly; see that she gets no hint of her country down below, nor sight of it. If she does, then she will cry and cry, and become sick, and that will be bad for me.’
“Thunder Man was often away, and during his absence his people kept a good watch on Mink Woman, and did all they could to amuse her; to keep her interested in different things. One day a woman gave her some freshly dug mas, and she cried out: ‘Oh, how good of you to give me these! I must go dig some for myself!’
“‘Oh, no! Don’t go! We will dig for you all that you can use,’ the women told her, but she would not listen.
“‘I want the fun of digging them for myself,’ she told them. ‘Somewhere, some time back, I did dig them. I must dig them again.’
“‘Well, if you must, you must,’ they answered, and gave her a digging stick, and cautioned her not to dig a very large one, should she find it, for that mas was the mother of all the others, and was constantly bringing forth new ones by scattering her seed to the winds. She promised that she would not touch it, and went off happily with her digging stick and a sack.
“Well, Mink Woman wandered about on the warm grass and flower-covered plain, digging a mas here, one there, singing to herself, and thinking how much she loved her Thunder Man, and wishing that he would be more often at home. He was away the greater part of the time. Thus wandering, in a low place in the plain she came upon a mas of enormous size; actually, it was larger around than her body! ‘Ha! This is the mother mas; the one they told me not to dig up,’ she cried, and walked around and around it, admiring its hugeness.
“‘I would like to dig it, but I must not,’ she at last said to herself, and went on, seeking more mas of small size. But she could not forget the big one; she kept imagining how it would look out of the ground; on her back; in her lodge, all nicely cleaned and washed, a present for Thunder Man when he should return home. She went back to it, walked around it many times, went away from it, trying to do as she had been told. But when halfway home she could no longer resist the temptation: with a little cry she turned and never stopped running until she was beside it, and then she used the digging stick with all her strength, thrusting it into the ground around and around and around the huge growth and prying up, and at last it became loose, and seizing it by its big top leaves, she pulled hard and tore it from the ground, and rolled it to one side of the hole.
“What a big hole it was! And light seemed to come up through it. She stepped to the edge and looked down: upon pulling up the huge mas she had torn a hole clear through the sky earth! She stooped and looked through it, and there, far, far below, saw—
“Why, everything came back to her when she looked through it: There it was, her own earth land! There was the Two Medicine River, and there, just below the foot of its lower lake, was the camp of her people! She threw away her digging stick, and her sack of mas, and ran crying to camp and into Thunder Man’s lodge. He was away at the time, but some of his relatives were in the lodge, and she cried out to them: ‘I have seen my own country; the camp of my people. I want to go back to them!’
“Said Thunder Man’s relatives to one another: ‘She has found the big mas, and has pulled it up, and made a hole in our sky earth! Now, what shall we do? Thunder Man will be angry at us because we did not watch her more closely.’ Thinking of what he might do to them in his anger, they trembled. They tried to soothe Mink Woman, but she would not be comforted; she kept crying and crying to be taken back to her father and mother.
“Thunder Man came home in the evening, and upon learning what had happened, his distress was as great as that of Mink Woman, whom he loved. When he came into the lodge she threw herself upon him, and with tears streaming from her eyes, begged him to take her back to her people.
“‘But don’t you love me?’ he asked. ‘Haven’t you been happy here? Isn’t this a beautiful—a rich country?’
“‘Of course I love you! I have been happy here! This is a good country! But oh, I want to see my father and mother!’
“‘Well, sleep now. In the morning you will likely feel that you are glad to be here, instead of down on the people’s earth,’ Thunder Man told her. But she would not sleep; she cried all night; would not eat in the morning, and kept on crying for her people.
“Then said Thunder Man: ‘I cannot bear to see—to hear such distress. Because I love her, she shall have her way. Go, you hunters, kill buffalo, kill many of them, and bring in the hides. And you, all you women, take the hides and cut them into long, strong strips and tie them together.’
“This the hunters and the women did, and Thunder Man himself made a long, high-sided basket of a buffalo bull’s hide and willow sticks. This and the long, long one-strand rope of buffalo hide were taken to the hole that Mink Woman had torn in the sky earth, and then Thunder Man brought her to the place and laid her carefully in the basket, which he had lined with soft robes: ‘Because I love you so dearly, I am going to let you down to your people,’ he told her. ‘But we do not part forever. Tell your father that I shall soon visit him, and give him presents. I know that I did wrong, taking you from him without his consent. Say to him that I will make amends for that.’
“‘Oh, you are good, and I love you more than ever. But I must, I must see my people; I cannot rest until I do,’ Mink Woman told him, and kissed him.
“The people then swung the woman in the basket down into the hole she had torn in the earth, and began to pay out the long rope, and slowly, little by little, the woman, looking up, saw that she was leaving the land of the sky gods. Below, the people, looking up, saw what they thought was a strange bird slowly floating down toward them from the sky. But after a long time they knew that it was not a bird. Nothing like it had ever been seen. It was coming down straight toward the center of the big camp. Men, women, children, they all fled to the edge of the timber, the dogs close at their heels, and from the shelter of thick brush watched this strange, descending object. It was a long, long time coming down, twirling this way, that way, and swaying in the wind, but finally it touched the ground in the very center of the camp circle, and they saw a woman rise up and step out of it. They recognized her: Mink Woman! And as they rushed out from the timber to greet her, the basket which had held her began to ascend and soon disappeared in the far blue of the sky.
“All the rest of that day and far into the night, Mink Woman told her parents and her people about the sky gods and the sky earth, and even then did not tell it all. Days were required for the telling of all that she had seen and done.
“Not long after Mink Woman’s return to the earth and her people, Thunder Man came to the camp. He came quietly. One evening the door curtain of Lame Bull’s lodge was thrust aside, and some one entered. Mink Woman, looking up from where she sat, saw that it was her sky god husband. He was plainly dressed, and bore a bundle in his arms: ‘Father!’ she cried; ‘here he is, my Thunder Man!’ And Lame Bull, moving to one side of the couch, made him welcome.
“Said Thunder Man: ‘I wronged you by taking your daughter without your permission. I come now to make amends for that. I have here in this bundle a sacred pipe; my Thunder pipe. I give it to you, and will teach you how to use it, and how to say the prayers and sing the songs that go with it.’
“Said Lame Bull to this man, his sky god son-in-law, ‘I was very angry at you, but as the snow melts when the black winds blow, so has my anger gone from my heart. I take your present. I shall be glad to learn the sacred songs and prayers.’
“Thunder Man remained for some time, nearly a moon, there in Lame Bull’s lodge, and taught the chief the ceremony of the medicine pipe until he knew it thoroughly in its every part. ‘It is a powerful medicine,’ Thunder Man told him. ‘It will make the sick well; bring you and your people long life and happiness and plenty, and success to your parties who go to war.’
“And as he said it was, so it proved to be, a most powerful medicine for the good of the people.
“Thunder Man’s departure from the camp was sudden and unexpected. One evening he was sitting beside Mink Woman in Lame Bull’s lodge, and all at once straightened up, looked skyward through the smoke hole, and appeared to be listening to something. The people there in the lodge held their breath and listened also, and could hear nothing but the chirping of the crickets in the grass outside. But Thunder Man soon cried out: ‘They are calling me! I have to go! I shall return to you as soon as I can finish my work!’ And with that he ran from the lodge and was gone. And Mink Woman wept.
“Who can know the ways of the gods? Surely not us of the earth. Thunder Man promised to return soon, but moons passed, two winters passed, and he came not to Lame Bull’s lodge and his woman. But soon after he left so suddenly, Crow Man returned from far wanderings and heard all the story of the god and Mink Woman. He made no remark about it, but spent much time in Lame Bull’s lodge. Then, after many moons had passed, he said to the chief one day: ‘Do you remember what you once promised me? When your daughter so suddenly disappeared you promised that if I would even find her, or tell you whither she had gone, you would give her to me when she was found. Well, here she is: fulfill your promise!’
“‘Let me tell you this,’ said Crow Man: ‘You promised to give her to me if I would even tell you where she had gone. I did that. And now, as to this Thunder Man, he will never return here because he knows that I am in the camp, and he fears me. So you might as well give me your daughter now, as you will anyhow later.’
“‘Ask her if she will marry you. I agree to whatever she chooses to do,’ Lame Bull answered.
“Crow Man went outside and found Mink Woman tanning a buffalo robe: ‘I have your father’s consent to ask you to marry me. I hope that you will say yes. I love you dearly. I will be good to you,’ he told her.
“Mink Woman shook her head: ‘I am already married. My man will soon be coming for me,’ she answered.
“‘But if he doesn’t come, will you marry me?’ Crow Man asked.
“More moons passed, and as each one came, Crow Man never failed to ask Mink Woman to marry him. She kept refusing to do so. But after two winters had gone by, and Thunder Man still failed to appear and claim her, why, her refusals became faint, and fainter, until, finally, she would do no more than shake her head when asked the great question. Then, at last, in the Falling Leaves moon of the second summer, when Crow Man asked her again, and she only shook her head, he took her hand and raised her up and drew her to him and whispered: ‘You know now that that sky god is never coming for you. And you know in your heart that you have learned to love me. Come, you are now my woman. Let us go to my lodge, my lodge which is now your lodge.’
“And without a word of objection Mink Woman went with him. Ai! She went gladly! She was lonely, and she had for some time loved him, although she would not acknowledge it.
“It was a good winter. Buffalo were plentiful near camp all through it, and Crow Man kept the lodge well supplied with fat cow meat. He and Mink Woman were very happy. Then came spring, and one day, in new green grass time, Thunder Man was heard approaching camp, and the people went wild with fear; they believed that he would destroy them all as soon as he learned that Mink Woman had married Crow Man. They all crowded around his lodge, begging him to give her up, to send her at once back to her father’s lodge.
“But Crow Man only laughed: ‘I will show you what I can do to that sky god,’ he told them, and got out his medicines and called Cold-Maker to come to his aid. By this time Thunder Man was come almost to camp; was making a terrible noise just overhead. But Cold-Maker came quickly, came in a whirling storm of wind and snow. Thunder Man raged, shooting lightning, making thunder that shook the earth. Cold-Maker made the wind blow harder and harder, so that some of the lodges wentdown before it, and he caused the snow to swirl so thickly that the day became almost as dark as night. For a long time the two fought, lightning against cold, thunder against snow, and little by little Cold-Maker drove Thunder Man back: he could not face the cold, and at last he fled and his mutterings died away in the distance. He was gone!
“‘There! I told you I could drive him away,’ said Crow Man. ‘Mink Woman, you people all, rest easy: Thunder Man will never again attempt to enter this camp.’ And with that he told Cold-Maker that he could return to his Far North home. He went, taking with him his wind and storm. The sun came out, the people set up their flattened lodges, and all were once more happy.
“And Lame Bull, he retained the pipe, and found that its medicine was as strong as ever. And from him it had been handed down from father to son and father to son to this day, and still it is strong medicine.
“Kyi! That was the way of it.”
Categories: English Literature