Chapter VI: Ni-Na Us-Tak-Wi (chief Mountain) 233 (3)

"'Oh, no, no! Not that!' Otter Woman cried. 'I am ashamed enough as it is! I am sorry that I did it! I don't know how I came to do it; I shall never, never do such a thing again!'

"'You spoke the truth there,' said her father. 'No, you will never do it again!' And he ordered her to go out ahead of them and mount the horse. She did so and sat upon it, head cast down, looking neither to the right nor left nor ahead: shame was with her. Holding the horse's rope, the old man shouted: 'Listen, people, listen.' And when a crowd had gathered he told them what his daughter had done to her good man, and the people groaned with shame that one of their tribe could be so bad of heart. Some even wept at the horror of it.

"From one part of the camp to another the old man led the little procession, stopping often to tell the shameful story, until all knew it. And then at last he led the horse out into the center of the great circle of the lodges, and told his daughter to dismount. She did so, and, drawing his knife, he stabbed her in the heart and she fell and died. Said he then to his wife: 'Get women to help you; drag that body far off and leave it, and never let me hear again the name of her who was once my daughter!'

"And the women did as he said. Never again did any one mention Otter Woman in his presence."

* * * * *

"Ai! A sad story! A story to give one bad dreams! Let us have one of more cheerful nature before we go to bed," said Stabs-by-Mistake.

"An Old Man story, then," said Two Guns. "All are laughable."

"Elder brother, tell us the story of Old Man and the woman," said Black Bull to Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill.

"Ai! That I will," the chief answered.

But before I set down the story, I must explain Old Man.

Old Man (Näp´-i) was the god who created the world, and all life upon it, and he was _the_ god of the Blackfeet until, some centuries back, they got from some southern tribe another religion, of which the sun is the principal god. However, they still pray to Old Man, as well as to the gods of the later religion, although in time a great many stories have grown up about Old Man that make him appear to be more of a buffoon than a god. An interesting point about the word _näp´-i_ is, that, while it is the term for an old man, its real meaning is dawn, or the first faint, white light that gives birth to the day. And so, in common with the ancient Mexicans, various tribes of the plains, the Aryans and other ancient races of the Old World, the original religion of the Blackfeet was the worship of light personified.

Let us have now, the old chief's story of

OLD MAN AND THE WOMAN

"Having created the world, the animals, grass, trees, all life upon it, Old Man realized that by having men live by themselves, and women by themselves, he had made a mistake. He saw that they should live together. The camps of the two sexes were far apart: the women were living here at the foot of the mountains, in Cutbank Valley, and the men were away down on Two Medicine River. Each camp had a buffalo trap, and subsisted wholly upon the buffalo that were decoyed into it.

"As I have said, Old Man saw that he had made a mistake in keeping men and women apart. In fact, he found that he himself wanted a woman; so he went to the men and said: 'You shall no longer live by yourselves. Come! We will go up to the camp of the women, and each of us get one of them.'

"The men were more than glad to do that; it was what they had been hoping to do for a long time; so they hurried to put on their best clothes, and neatly braided their hair, and then started off with Old Man for the women's camp. When they came in sight of it, Old Man told them to stop right there, and he would go ahead and plan with the women just what should be done. They sat down, and he went on to the women's camp. Himself, he had on his old, soiled clothes; his fine clothes he had left back with the men.

"Arrived in the camp, he found only two or three women there; the woman chief and all the others were down at the buffalo trap, butchering the animals that they had that morning decoyed into it. When he told the few women that he found why he had come, he greatly excited and pleased them, and they started at once to run and tell the others to hurry up from the trap and meet the men.

"'But wait. Not so fast. I want a word with you,' Old Man called out; and when they came back to him, he asked: 'What kind of a woman is your chief?'

"'Everything that is good, and kind and brave, that is our chief,' one answered. And another said: 'Ai! She is all that, and more; and she is the most beautiful woman of us all!'

"This pleased Old Man. He said to himself, 'That is the woman for me. I must have her.' And to the waiting women he said: 'It is right that chief woman should mate with chief man. You women are to come to us, and each select the man you want. Now, tell your chief woman that the chief man is brave and kind and handsome, and that she shall select him for her man. She will know him by the way he is dressed. He wears buckskin shirt and leggings, embroidered with porcupine quills, and a cow-leather robe with a big porcupine-quill embroidered sun in the center of it. You tell her to take him for her man!'

"'We will do so!' the women cried, and started off for the buffalo trap as fast as they could run.

"Old Man hurried back to the waiting men, and hurriedly put on his fine clothes, the ones that he had described to the women.

"Trembling with excitement, and out of breath from their long, swift run, Old Man's messengers arrived at the buffalo trap and told their wonderful news,--that men had come to marry them; that each woman was to choose the man that she thought would best suit her. The butchering of the animals ceased at once, and the women started for their camp to put on their good clothes and recomb their hair. They wanted to appear as neat and clean and well dressed as possible, before the men. Yes, all ran for their camp, all except the chief woman. Said she: 'I cannot leave here until I finish skinning this spotted medicine calf. Go, all of you, and I will join you as soon as I can.'

"The work took more time than she thought would be required, and when she arrived in camp with the valuable skin, she found all the other women dressed and impatient to go and choose their men. 'Oh, well, it doesn't matter how I look,' she said. 'I am chief; I have a name; I can go choose my man dressed just as I am. How did you say the man chief is dressed?'

"They told her again what he wore, according to what the messenger man had told them, and she said: 'I'll choose him. Chief, I suppose, must mate with chief.'

"And so she went right on with the others, wearing her butchering dress, all stiff with blood and grease from the neck down to the bottom of the skirt; and her moccasins were even more foul than the skirt. Her hands were caked with dried blood, and her hair was not even braided.

"Their chief leading, the women approached the waiting men, all of them standing in a line, and singing a song of greeting. Old Man stood at the head of the line, very straight and proud, and of fine appearance in his beautiful new porcupine-embroidered clothes. By these the chief woman recognized him from afar, and said to herself: 'He is a fine looking man. I hope that he will prove to be as good of heart as he is good to look at.' And, leading her women, she walked straight up to him and laid a hand on his arm: 'I will take you for my man,' she told him.

"But Old Man shrank back, his face plainly showing his loathing of such a bloody and greasy, wild-haired woman.

"'I take you for my man,' the woman chief repeated; and then he broke away from her hold and ran behind his men: 'No! No! I do not want you, bloody, greasy woman,' he cried, and went still farther off behind his men.

"The woman chief turned to her followers: 'Go back! Go back to that little hill and there wait for me,' she told them. And to the men she said, 'Remain where you are until I return. I shall not be gone long.' And with that she turned and hurried to her camp. Her women went to the hill. The men remained where they were.

"Down at her camp the chief woman took off her old clothes and bathed in the river. Then she put on her fine clothes, a pair of new moccasins, braided her hair, scented herself with sweetgrass, and returned to her women. She was now better dressed than any of them, and they had told Old Man the truth when they said that she was beautiful of face and form: she was the most beautiful woman of them all.

"Again she led her women to the line of waiting men. Again Old Man stood first, stood at the head of them. But she passed him by, as though she did not see him, and he, with a little cry, ran after her, took her by the arm, and said: 'You are the woman for me. I am the chief of the men: you must take me!'

"She turned upon him, and her eyes were like fire. She tore his hand from her arm, and cried: 'Never touch me again, good-for-nothing, proud-and-useless man. I would die before I would mate with you.'

"And to her women she said: 'Do not, any of you, take him for your man.' And with that she turned and chose a man. The others then, one by one, took their choice of the men. When all had chosen, there was one woman who had no man; all had been taken except Old Man. She would not have him, and became the second wife of one of the men. The choosing over, all started for the women's camp. Old Man, now very sad-hearted, was for following them; but the chief woman turned and motioned him off. 'Go away. There is no food for you, no place for you in our camp,' she told him; and he went away, crying, by himself.

"And that is what Old Man got for being so proud."

_July 30._

We break camp and move northward to-morrow. For the past two days some of us have been riding about on this "Backbone-of-the-World," as the Blackfeet call the Rocky Mountains, and we have ridden our horses where, in former times, nothing but a bird could go. The Park Supervisor and his engineers and miners and sappers have blasted out trails over the highest parts of the range, making it easy and safe for tenderfeet tourists to view the wonders of this sub-Arctic, greater than Alpine range of mountains. One of the most impressive views is from the summit of the trail from Upper Two Medicine Lake to Cutbank River. The Dry Fork Trail, it is called. At its extreme height the trail is along a mountain crest about thirty feet in width. Mr. L. W. Hill graphically described the stretch the other day, when, after crossing it, he said: "On its east side one can spit straight down three thousand feet into a lake, and on the other side cast a stone that will go down much farther than that!"

Indeed, the view of the mountains and cliffs and canyons from that height is so grand, so stupendous and impressive, that one cannot find words to describe it all.

On another day we went over Cutbank Pass and down the west side of the range, far enough to get a good view of the Pumpelly Glacier, and see the huge ice blocks break from it and drop from a cliff more than two thousand feet in height. They strike the bottom of the canyon with a reverberating crash that can be heard for miles. Just below this glacier, down Nyack Creek three or four miles, is a fine alkaline spring and clay bed where, in other days, old Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill and I were wont to go for bighorn, goats, deer, and elk. All these animals came to it in great numbers, and drank the waters, and ate great wads of the salty mud. We once killed a large grizzly there, whose late autumn coat was as black as that of a black bear.

This afternoon we have had further talk about the naming of these mountains. For a wonder, the topographers have not taken away the original name for the outer mountain on the north side of this Cutbank Valley: we find on the map that it is still White Calf Mountain. It was named for one of the greatest chiefs the Montana Blackfeet ever had. As a young man, fresh from his first war trail, he witnessed the signing of the treaty between his people and the representatives of the United States, at the mouth of the Judith River, in 1855, so he must have been born in 1836 or 1837. As a warrior, his rise to fame was rapid, and many are the stories told of his indomitable bravery in facing the enemy. In later years, because of his great interest in the welfare of his people, he became their head chief. He died in Washington, in 1903, while there on tribal business.

The right names of the other mountains walling in this valley are as follows: The unnamed mountain next west from White Calf Mountain is Ahk´-sap-ah-ki (Generous Woman); Mount James is Ah´-kow-to-mak-an (Double Runner); Mount Vorhis is O-nis-tai´-na (Wonderful Chief). The west one of the Twin Buttes is Little Plume; the east one is O-nis-tai´-mak-an (Wonderful Runner). And, as I have said, the outer mountain on the south side of the valley is Muk-sin-a´ (Angry Woman). All but the last one were named for old-time great chiefs and warriors of my people, and we intend that they shall be so named on the official maps, even if we have to petition the House of Representatives and the Senate, in Washington, to make the change! And you, my readers, lovers of these grandest mountains of our country, will you not be with us in this perfectly proper request?

Said Takes-Gun-Ahead to me this afternoon: "Who are these white men, James, and Vorhis, for whom the mountains were named? Were they great warriors, or presidents, or wise men?"

I had to confess that I had never heard of them.

"Huh!" he exclaimed. And "Huh!" all the others, even the women, echoed.

III

KI-NUK´-SI IS-SI-SAK´-TA (LITTLE RIVER)

_August 2._

We moved over here on Little River--or, as the whites have named it, Milk River--day before yesterday, and made camp at the lower edge of the great body of timber in which the stream has its source. We are here on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, and several miles from the boundary line of the Glacier National Park. The state game laws do not apply to the reservation, hence we have the right to hunt upon it when and where we please.

Yesterday Takes-Gun-Ahead and I oiled our rifles and started out after meat. We went up the river, passing the old beaver dams that White Fur and Loud Slap built in the long ago, and presently, in the dense growth of pine, cottonwood, and willow, came upon old and fresh tracks of deer and elk. We followed for a time the trail of four or five elk, and left it to take the very fresh trail of a moose. Takes-Gun-Ahead was in the lead, and within ten minutes he saw the animal not fifty yards away, standing partly concealed behind a clump of willows and watching our approach. Its head was in plain view, and he fired and struck it just at the base of the ear, and it fell, gave a convulsive kick or two, and was dead when we got to it. It was a three-year-old bull, and carried a very ordinary set of antlers, velvet-covered and still soft at the points. I dressed the carcass while my companion went back for a horse, and before noon we had real meat--_ni-tap´-i-wak-sin_--in camp. We distributed it among the lodges, and there was great rejoicing. Later in the day, Two Guns and Black Bull brought in a fine buck mule deer, and at sunset Big Spring returned with the meat and skin of a yearling ram that he had killed on the outer point of Divide Mountain. It was like old times,--the camp red with meat,--and we all felt rich and happy.

The killing of the moose in this particular place brought out a lot of reminiscences of happenings here on Little River in other days, and of them all I think that Takes-Gun-Ahead's story was the best. As the pipe went the first round after our feast of roast moose ribs in Black Bull's lodge, said he: "I will tell you the story of

"OLD MAN AND THE WOLVES

"One day in that long ago time, Old Man was wandering along the edge of this forest, having come over from Cutbank way. He was feeling very lonely, and wondering what he could do to have a more lively time, when, as he approached the river here, probably right where we are camped, he saw a band of six wolves sitting on the bank, watching him. He stopped short, watched them for a time, and then approached them, whining out: 'My younger brothers! My younger brothers! I am very lonely! Take pity on me: let me be a wolf with you!'

"As I have said, the wolves were six: the old father and mother, their two daughters, and their sons, Heavy Body and Long Body. The old father wolf answered Old Man. 'Just what do you mean?' he asked. 'Is it that you want me to change you into a wolf--that you want to live just as we do?'

"'I want to live with you, hunt with you,' he answered, 'but I don't want to be changed wholly into a wolf. Just make my head and neck to look like yours, and put wolf hair on my legs and arms, and that will be about enough of a change. I will keep my body just as it is.'

"'Very well, we will do that for you,' said the old wolf; and he took a gray medicine and rubbed it on Old Man's head and neck and legs and arms, and made the change. 'There!' said he. 'My work is done. I would like to have made you all wolf, your body as well as the rest of you, but you will do as you are; you are quite wolf-like. And now, let me tell you something about our family. My old wife and I don't hunt much. Your two younger brothers there are the runners and killers, and their sisters help in the way of heading off and confusing the game. Your younger brother there, Long Body, is the swiftest runner, but he hasn't the best of wind. However, he generally overtakes and kills whatever he chases. Your other younger brother, Heavy Body, is not a fast runner, but he has great staying power, never gets winded, and in the end brings down his game. And now you know them. Whenever you feel like hunting, one or the other of them, as you choose, will go with you.'

"'You are very kind to me,' said Old Man. 'I am now very tired, but to-morrow I shall want to hunt with one or the other of them.'

"'We are also tired; we have come a long way; it is best that we all rest during this night,' said the old wolf; and he led the way up to the top of a high ridge on the north side of the valley, where all lay down.

"'But why rest out on top of this barren, windy place, instead of in the shelter of the timber?' Old Man asked, his teeth beginning to chatter from the cold.

"'We never rest in the timber,' the old wolf replied. 'There enemies would have a good chance to take us unawares. Here we can see afar everything that moves, and as one or another of us is always on watch, we can keep out of danger. Also, we can look down and see the different kinds of game, and make our plans to chase what we want, head it off, tire it out, and kill it. We always, summer and winter, do our resting and sleeping on high places.'

"Before the night was far gone, Old Man became so cold that he trembled all over, and, try as he would, he could not keep his jaws together.

"'You annoy us with your tremblings, and your teeth chatterings; you keep us from sleeping,' the old wolf complained.

"'Well, I shall not annoy you long,' Old Man answered, 'because I shall soon freeze to death!'

"The old wolf aroused his wife and children: 'This tender-bodied elder brother of ours is freezing. I suppose we have to protect him. Lie down in a circle around him and cover him with your tails,' he told them.

"They did so, and he was soon overcome with heat: 'Take your ill-smelling tails from my body; I am wet with perspiration!' he gasped. They removed their tails and he soon began to shiver. 'Put them back! I freeze!' he cried; and they did as he commanded. During the night he had them cover him many times with their tails, and as many times remove them. He passed a miserable night, and so did the wolves, for he kept them from sleeping.

"At break of day all arose, and, looking down into the valley, saw a lone, buck mule deer feeding farther and farther away from the timber. They made a plan for capturing it. They all sneaked around into the timber, and then Long Body and Old Man crept down the valley until the buck saw them and ran, and then they chased it. Long Body soon pulled it down, and Old Man came up in time to seize and break its neck, and felt very proud of himself. The other wolves soon came to the kill, and all feasted. The carcass lasted them two days.

"Again and again they went to the top of the ridge to pass the night, and Old Man soon became so used to the cold that he did not need tail covering. When the deer was eaten, they killed another one, and then a buffalo bull, which lasted them some days. Then, after two failures in chasing antelope and some hungry days, Long Body killed a big bull elk, just outside the timber here. They were several days eating it, but at last all the meat and the soft bones were finished, and nothing but the backbone and the hard leg bones remained. Said the old wolf then: 'We must be saving of what we have left, for it may be some time before we can make another killing. To-day we will take turns chewing the upper bone of a hind leg.'

"They gathered in a small circle with one of the bones, noses to the center, and the old wolf said to Old Man: 'Now, while this chewing is going on, bone splinters are bound to fly. You must keep your eyes tight shut until it comes your turn to chew, else you may get a splinter that will blind you.'

"Old Man did as he was told. The old wolf began the chewing, and after gnawing off the end of the bone, and getting a little of the marrow, called out to his wife that it was her turn to chew and passed her the bone. And so from one to another it went around the circle until Long Body got it, and Old Man's turn came next. His curiosity now got the better of him: he just had to see what was going on, and slowly opened one eye, the one next to Long Body. All the wolves had their heads to the ground or resting on their fore paws, and all--even Long Body, busily chewing the bone--kept their eyes tight shut. 'Huh! This is a queer way to feast,' Old Man said to himself, and just then a splinter flew from the bone and struck his open eye, not putting it out, but causing him great pain and making him very angry. 'I will pay him for that!' he thought, and waited his turn at the bone, becoming more and more angry as he waited.

"'Your turn, Old Man,' said Long Body after a time, and passed him the bone. Old Man took it, chewed it for a time, looking sharply at all the wolves. All had their eyes tight shut, so, raising the bone as high as he could, he brought it down with all the force of his arm upon Long Body's head and killed him. The other wolves, hearing his twitching, as he died, opened their eyes, saw him dead, and Old Man staring in horror at what he had done.

"'Oh, what have you done! You have killed your younger brother!' the old wolf cried.

"'I didn't mean to,' Old Man answered. 'When he was chewing the bone he let a splinter fly, and it struck me in this eye. I meant to punish him a little for being so careless, but I did not mean to kill him. I must have struck harder than I thought to do.'

"'You had your eyes open! It was your fault that you got the splinter!' the old wolf said; and then he and all the rest began grieving for their dead.

"All the rest of that day, and all through the night, they howled and howled, and Old Man thought that he would go mad from the mournfulness of it all. He was very sorry--he hated himself for what he had done in his anger.

"The mourning-time over, the wolves dug a hole in the ground and buried Long Body, and then scolded Old Man. 'Had you killed my son intentionally,' the old wolf concluded, 'we would have had your life in payment for his life. As it is, we will give you one more trial: see that such an accident as that never again occurs!'

"'Younger brother,' said Old Man, 'I am grieving and very restless because of what I have done. I want to be moving; to be doing something. Let Heavy Body go with me up in this pine forest, and we will try to kill something.'

"The old wolf remained silent for some time, thinking, and at last answered: 'Yes, I will allow him to go with you, and remember this: if anything happens to him, we shall hold you responsible, and great will be your punishment!'

"The two started off, and Old Man said to his partner, 'In some ways I am wiser than you. I have this to say, and you must heed it: Whatever you start after, be it deer or elk or moose, and no matter how close you may get to it, if it crosses a stream, even a little stream that you can jump, stop right there and turn back. Mind, now, even if a few more leaps will get you to the animal's throat, you are not to make those leaps if it crosses a stream. Should you keep on, death in some form will get you.'

"'How do you know this?' Heavy Body asked.

"'I may not tell you all that I know,' Old Man replied. 'I have given you the warning; heed it.'

"They went farther up in the timber, and after some nosing of trails started a big bull moose, and took after it, Heavy Body running far in the lead. He was fast gaining upon it, was almost at its heels, when it jumped into a wide, long pond, really a widening of the creek, and started swimming across it to an island, and from that to the other shore. Heavy Body thought of Old Man's warning, but said to himself: 'He doesn't know everything. I must have that moose!' And into the water he went and started swimming toward the island. And just as he was nearing it a water bear sprang from the shore, and killed him, and dragged him to land, and Old Man appeared at the edge of the pond just in time to see the bear and her two nearly grown young begin feasting upon her kill. With a heart full of rage and sorrow, he turned back into the timber and considered how he could revenge the death of Heavy Body.

"Two mornings later, just before daylight, Old Man came again to the shore of the pond, and close to the edge of the water took his stand and gave himself the appearance of an old stump. Soon after sunrise the old water bear, coming out from the brush on the island, saw it, sat up and stared at it, and said to herself: 'I do not remember having seen that stump before. I suspicion that it is Old Man, come to do me harm. I saw him right there when I killed the wolf.'

"She stared and stared at the stump, and at last called out her young, and said to one of them: 'Go across there and bite, and claw that stump. I believe that it is Old Man. If it is, he will cry out and run when you hurt him.'

"The young bear swam across and went up to the stump, and bit, and clawed it, and hurt Old Man. He was almost on the point of giving up and running away, when it left him and went back to the island and told the old one that the stump was a stump, and nothing else. But the old one was not satisfied. She sent the other young one over, and it bit and clawed Old Man harder than its brother had, but he stood the pain, bad as it was, and that young one went back and also said that the stump was just a common old stump and without life.

"But the old water bear was not yet satisfied. She went across herself, and bit and tore at the stump with her claws, and what Old Man had suffered from the others was nothing compared to what he endured from her attack. He stood it, however, and at last, satisfied that her children had been right, that this was a stump and nothing else, she left it and started back for the island. Then it was that, just as she was entering the water, Old Man picked up the bow and arrows he had made during the two days back in the timber and shot an arrow into her, well back in the loin; but she dove under water so quickly that he could not see whether he had hit her or not. She swam under water clear around back of the island, and went ashore where he could not see her. He turned, then, and went away back in the timber, and slept all the rest of the day and all of the following night.

"Early the next morning he was approaching the pond by way of the stream running from it, when he saw a kingfisher sitting on a limb of a tree overhanging the water, and looking intently down into it: 'Little brother, what do you there?' he asked.

"'The old water bear has been shot,' the bird answered. 'She bathes in the water, and clots of blood and pieces of fat escape from the wound, and when they come floating along here I seize them, and eat them.'

"'Ha! So I did hit her!' Old Man said. 'How badly, I wonder?'

"He went on up the shore of the stream, trying to think of some way to get complete revenge for the death of Heavy Body, when he heard some one out in the brush chanting: 'Some one has shot the old water bear! I have to doctor the old water bear! Some one has shot the old water bear! I have to doctor the old water bear!'

"He went out to see who this might be, and found that it was the bull frog, jumping about and making the chant after every jump. He went to him and asked if the bear was much hurt?

"'There is an arrow in her loin,' the frog answered, 'and as soon as I find a certain medicine plant, I shall pull the arrow out and apply the crushed plant to the wound. I believe that I can save her life.'

"'That you never will,' Old Man said, and fired an arrow into him, and killed him. He then took his skin, put it on, tore up a handful of a green plant, and swam to the island. As soon as he reached the shore he began chanting as the frog had done: 'Some one has shot the old water bear! I have to doctor the old water bear!' And so, chanting and jumping, he followed a trail into the brush and came upon the old bear and her two young. She was lying on her side, breathing heavily, and her eyes were shut. Old Man bent over her, and, firmly grasping the arrow, shoved it in until it pierced her heart, and she gave a kick and died! He then picked up a club and killed the two young. 'There! That ends the water bear family. I was crazy ever to have made her and her husband!' he exclaimed.

"Casting off the frog skin now, he with great difficulty floated the three bears from the island to the shore of the pond. There, a short distance back from it, he found a bowl-shaped depression in the ground. Into this he dragged the carcasses of the bears, after skinning them and taking off all the fat from their meat and insides, and then he tried out the fat and poured the oil over them, completely covering them and filling the depression. He then called the animals. 'All you who would be fat, come bathe in this oil,' he shouted. And on all sides the animals heard and began to come in. The bears--real bears, the grizzly and the black--came first and rolled in the oil, and ever since that time they have been the fattest of all animals. Then came the skunk; next the badger; after him the porcupine, and rolled in the oil and got fat. The beaver came and swam across the oil. All that part of him above the water as he swam--his head and the forward part of his back--got no fat, but all the rest of his body--his sides, belly, and tail--became extremely fat. Last of all the animals came the rabbit. He did not go into the oil, but, dipping a paw into it, rubbed it upon his back between his shoulders and upon the inside of each leg. That is why he has no fat on other parts of his body.

"'Well, there!' Old Man exclaimed, after the rabbit had gone. 'I have done some good. I have avenged the death of my wolf partner and have made fat many of my younger brothers!' And with that he started off seeking more adventures.

"Kyi! My story ends."

_August 4._

Not for many years, I am sure, have my relatives and friends here been so happy as they are just now. Instead of beef or no meat of any kind, as is generally the case with them when at home,--some die every winter from want of food,--they have now in every lodge real meat; meat of moose and elk and bighorn, and so are living much as they did in the days before the white men overran their country and killed off their game.

A happy heart sharpens one's wits. All day yesterday, as I knew, my two old relatives, Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill and Yellow Wolf, were considering what other one of the tribal stories about the Little River country would most please me. I had told them that I could not put them all down--could use only two or three of the most interesting ones. And so, when we all gathered in Yellow Wolf's lodge last evening, and the pipe was lighted and started on the round of our circle, he said that it had been decided that I should have the story of the rescue of a boy from the Crows, and that he would tell it. It was called, he said, the story of

"NEW ROBE, THE RESCUER

"In the long ago, before our forefathers had taken this country from the Crows, they were one summer camping and hunting on the Big River of the North.[7] Came the evening of a long, hot day, and a boy of eight or nine winters--Lone Star was his name--failed to return to his parents' lodge. The chiefs ordered the camp crier out, and he went all among the lodges, shouting the news, and asking if any one had seen the boy? None had; so then the chiefs ordered all the men and youths to go out and try to find him. All that moonlit night, and all the next day, they searched the surrounding country, but got no trace of him. Every alighting buzzard was marked down, but in every instance it was found to be feasting upon the remains of game that the hunters had killed. So then, although his body could not be found, most of the people believed that the boy was dead. His beautiful sister, Red Cloud Woman, and his father, Black Bear, thought otherwise; they believed that he had been stolen by the enemy, and publicly, all through the camp, the two went, the girl vowing that she would marry whoever would find her brother, the old man adding that she had his permission to make the vow.

[7] Ap-ut´-o-sosts O´muk-at-ai (Big River of the North). The
Saskatchewan.

"There was in the camp a very poor young man, named New Robe. So poor was he that he had never owned a new robe, nor a new shirt, nor leggins, nor even new moccasins. His father and mother were dead, and always, as far back as he could remember, he had worn nothing but the used clothes the charitable had given him. He had never been to war, had never done anything to make a name for himself, but now he was eager to start in quest of the missing boy. He had long loved the girl, but had never even spoken to her. He now went to her and said: 'Tell no one about it. Just silently pray for me. I am going to travel far in search of your brother.'

"Said the girl: 'This is not a time for me to hide my heart from you. I have watched you, loved you for a very long time. But what could I say? Nothing. Well I knew that my people would not allow me to marry one so poor as you. But now there is hope for us; somehow I believe that this trouble is to be the means of bringing us together.' And with that she kissed him, and he went quietly out from camp, unobserved by any one, and started southward on his quest.

"Many days later, in the valley of Old Man's River, New Robe came upon an old camp-ground of the enemy--Crows, of course, for that was then their country. From it he found that they had moved south, and he followed their trail, ever along the foot of the mountains, and knew that he was fast overtaking them. At the River-of-Many-Chiefs-Gathering[8] he found live coals in the ashes of their abandoned fireplaces, and so, upon arriving at the top of the ridge overlooking this stream, he was not surprised to see the lodges of the great Crow camp here--right here where we are encamped to-night. They were set up in a great circle, and in the center of it was a huge lodge covered with old lodge skins: the Crows were having their medicine lodge ceremonies!

[8] St. Mary's River.

"As soon as night came and before the moon arose, New Robe descended the hill and entered the camp. The people were all of them gathered at the medicine lodge, singing and dancing, and fulfilling their vows to the sun, so he went from one living lodge to another, looking into each for some sign of the missing boy. By the time he had made the round of the lodges of half of the circle it was midnight, and the people were beginning to go home to sleep. He left the camp and went back on the ridge, having found no trace of the one for whom he searched.

"The next night New Robe descended the ridge and searched the lodges of the other half of the circle, and found not what he sought. When he had finished, the people were still gathered at the medicine lodge, and, desperate, and knowing well the great risk that he would incur, he went toward it, and stood at the outer edge of the great crowd and watched the ceremonial dancing of the different warrior clans. He kept his face partly concealed with his old robe, and moved from place to place around the outer circle of the people, and none observed him, so intent were they upon watching the dancers.

"At last, during a quiet interval between dances, he imagined that he heard some one groaning, but, look where he would, he could see no one in distress, nor could he locate the exact place from which the groaning came. It was a light-voiced groaning, such as a child would make; he felt sure that it came from little Lone Star, somewhere in that great lodge, and in great pain. He left the place, went outside the circle of lodges, and lay down.

"It was long past midnight when the people returned to their lodges. Then, as soon as the camp became quiet, New Robe returned to the medicine lodge, and, listening, heard faint groaning and located it. It came from the top of the center post, where all the sacrifices to the sun were hung. He was sure then that it was no other than Lone Star up there, lashed to the post, a living sacrifice to the sun, and there to die!

"Well he knew that there, within the lodge, were sleeping the women who had vowed to build the great structure in honor of the sun. And there, too, in his secret, walled-off little inner lodge, slept the medicine man whose duty it was to drive back approaching thunderclouds and rain. He had to risk awakening them! He had at least to attempt to rescue the boy! So, casting off his robe, he climbed the outer wall of the lodge, and from it crawled along one of the big long poles that slanted up to the center post. There he found Lone Star, firmly lashed to one of its forks, and so far gone that he could no longer even groan.

"Silently, very carefully, New Robe unwound the lashing, and then, fastening an end of it under the boy's arms, let him down to the ground. He then descended, and found that the boy was so numb that he could not walk. There was but one thing to do then. He took the helpless one upon his back, stole out of the lodge, and started with him across the big camp-ground. Dawn had come. As he was passing the circle of lodges, an early riser, a woman, saw him and with her shrieks aroused all the near-by sleepers. They rushed out, warriors and youths, the women following, and overtook him. He made no resistance. He could have left the boy and made his own escape, but he would not do that. Several old warriors seized him and the boy, and hurried them to the lodge of the head chief, the women and the youths following and crying out that they be killed. Inside the lodge, the chief motioned them to seats, and in signs asked New Robe what he had to say for himself.

"'I came not to harm you,' New Robe answered, 'nor to take from you anything that is yours. I came to find this boy, and take him back to his mourning father and mother and sister. And where did I find him! Tied to the center post of your medicine lodge, there to die from want of water and food, a living but dying sacrifice to the sun! That were too cruel a thing to do. I ask you not to put him back there. If he is to die, I die with him. Shoot us, stab us, kill us in any way you choose, so that our death be quick!'

"The chief gave him no answer to that. He counseled with the other chiefs for a long time, and at last signed to him: 'You are so brave that we shall give you and the boy a chance for your lives. You are to remain here in this lodge to-day, to-night, to-morrow, and the following night. My young men will keep watch on you, so do not attempt to escape. On the morning following your second night here, you are to be given your chance to leave us unharmed. I shall not now tell you what that chance will be.' And then, turning to his men, he gave them certain orders, and they hurried from the lodge.

"During the two days and two nights, New Robe prayed as he never had before, prayed for strength and courage to succeed in whatever he should be told to do. The people of the lodge treated him and the boy well. They did not want for food, nor anything else that would make for their comfort. Early in the morning after the second night, the chief signed to him: 'It is not my fault, nor the fault of my under chiefs, that you have to undergo this trial for your life and that of the boy this day. My people were crying for your lives; they wanted to drag you two out from here and fill your bodies with arrows. I did not want them to do that; my council of chiefs did not want it done; so we counseled together and hit upon a way to give you a chance for your lives. It is not an easy thing that you have to attempt, but I hope you will succeed. And, whatever happens, believe this: I have done the best for you that I could!'

"A little later, soon after the morning meal, the chief signed the two captives to follow him, and led them to the medicine lodge. In front of it were seven fresh buffalo bull heads which a number of men were skinning, and out in front of them, in a great half-circle, were gathered every man, woman, and child of the Mountain Crow tribe. New Robe wondered what was to be done with the seven buffalo heads; he suspected that they were to be in some way used in his trial for life.

"'Come!' the chief signed, and led him and the boy to the entrance of the medicine lodge. There they stood, the mark of many flashing, angry eyes, and presently the skinners finished their work, and an old chief placed the shining skulls in a line out from the doorway of the lodge, each one of them a long step distant from another.

"Again the head chief made signs to New Robe: 'There is your trial for life,' he said. 'You are to take the boy on your back, and step from one to the other of those skulls until you step upon the last one; pass from it to the ground. If you succeed in doing that, you and the boy are free to go to your home, and none of my people shall harm you on your way. But should you slip from a skull, and even so much as touch the ground with your toe, to save your balance, then the warriors standing out there will fall upon you, and kill you both.'

"New Robe looked long at the seven skulls, considering what he should do. Being freshly skinned, he knew that they were very slippery. And then, which would be safest, to step slowly, carefully, from one to another, or make a run across them touching each one quickly, lightly? They were far apart; too far for slow, deliberate stepping; he concluded that the thing to do was to start running from the back of the lodge, and go along the line of them as fast as he could with his burden. He signed to the chief that he would do that, and led the boy to the back of the lodge.

"While going there another thought came to him. He got back of the boy, and stooped, and while pretending to fix the young one's belt and leggins, kept spitting in two places upon the ground. He then stepped squarely in each pool of the spit and then upon soft ground, and coated his moccasin soles with the sandy earth. Then, suddenly swinging the boy to his back, and running swiftly across the lodge, he lit upon the first skull with his right foot, and went leaping on from one to another as fast as he could with the weight upon his back. The third skull began to turn with him, and he made a weak leap from it, barely alighting upon the next. But it held firm and he made a sure leap from it to the next, and from that to the next, and then, stepping squarely upon the seventh, and last skull, passed from it to the ground, and released the boy from his back.

"The crowd stood silent, sullen, watching him. The head chief came to his side and spoke to them, and they suddenly broke out in loud cheers. The chief then signed to New Robe: 'There is one thing more you are asked to do before we send you home. You do not have to do it, but we hope that you will. Come with me!'

"They went to the lodge of a young chief, and when they were seated, the chief signed to New Robe: 'My father, once a great chief, is an old man. He does not want to die of old age and long and painful illness, and he wants a chance to kill one more enemy before he dies. He wants to fight you. If he kills you, then that will be good. If you kill him, then you shall have his war horse and all his weapons, and I will give you a fine present, and you and the boy shall go to your home in perfect safety. Now, what say you to that?'

"'I have no weapons,' New Robe objected.

"'Weapons you shall have,' the other replied. 'All the warriors of the camp are anxious to loan you what they have. You shall go with me and examine what they have until you find just what you want.'

"New Robe considered the matter. If he won out, what honor, what a _coup_ it would be to return to his people with the weapons and the war horse of his enemy. If he lost, if he was killed--a sudden doubt struck him, and he asked: 'If I fall, what will become of the boy?'

"'We promise you now,' the chiefs both answered, 'that in that case some of us will take the boy to within sight of the camp of your people, and send him safely to it.'

"'I take your word for that, and now give me weapons,' said New Robe.