Spirit of Chief Plenty-Coups: Be not only as good as the best, but the best!
" . . . `Why did young men not marry until twenty-five or until they had counted coup?'" I asked Plenty- Coups.
Because a man who has counted coup or one who has reached the age of twenty-five is strong and healthy," he replied. "We breed our horses with great care even today, but we have forgotten ourselves in this respect. Now any man may marry any woman whenever he can. No law prevents this, and sometimes imperfectly formed children are born. I never heard of a deformed child when I was young."
He then told of the old law governing marriage. No man might marry a woman belonging to the same clan as his own, but instead must choose a mate from another clan. Children always belonged to the clan of their mother, and this prevented the possibility of in-breeding, because when they grew up and married they must mate with those of another group. Besides, occasionally there was new blood brought to the Crows from other tribes, so that the race did not decline. He spoke in high praise of the law that permitted men to marry under twenty-five if they had counted coup. "This rule," he said, "made us strive to be strong and brave, and a man can be neither without health." But even though the law permitted a man who had reached the age of twenty-five years and had not counted coup to take a wife, he might not "paint his woman's face;" so that even here tribal distinction was withheld, and the incentive to bravery kept to the fore. "Nothing was finer than to see a pretty young woman with her face painted, riding ahead of her man," said Plenty- coups. "She looked so proud and happy, carrying his lance and shield, riding his best war-horse, to tell everybody that `her' man was a warrior who had distinguished himself in battle. The way of all young men was alike, and difficult. Most of them turn out to be able."
"Ho! I knew him! His name was The-Bull. He had once left his own people, the Pecunies [Black-Feet], to live with us. He had taken a Crow woman and then, after a while, left her with children to support. These children yet live on this reservation. I see them quite often. Ho! I knew The-Bull. My heart was bad toward him. He had betrayed us and, knowing our country, was even now leading a war-party against us."
"Habit is strong with all men, and even when they borrow customs to fool others they become careless, so that natural habits give them away."
He turned to Coyote-runs, spoke rapidly and with glee, reminding him of some incident; then he said to me: "The white man, even with all his smartness, cannot long make his trail look like an Indian's, any more than an Indian can fool his own people by pretending to be white. Both will at last forget the game they are playing and do some natural thing. Then they get caught."
"I have explained that to keep other tribe out of our territory we sent clans to its four points to tell encroaching men they might hunt on our lands if afterward they would go away to their own parts again. One of these clans sent us word that the River Crows had been attacked by Crees and Yanktonese Sioux, who together had killed several men, besides taking a band of horses from our brethren. We did not wait, but started out to find and fight the enemy.
"the berries were red and weather was very hot. We swam the Big River, running right into a large camp of River half-bloods, who were killing buffalo. They were badly frightened, but after we had assured them we were not at war with them, they gave us some meat and tobacco, besides telling us where might find a large Sioux village east of them.
very much, telling them plainly that if they sent any messenger to the Sioux village warning them of our coming, we would hold them responsible and punish them. This made them careful not to ride too far from their camp for a while.
squeaked and screamed across the plains like a herd of crying things looking for rest. And they packed dogs often, just as our fathers did before they got horses to carry their things. Their women were either full-bloods from the different tribes they visited or half-bloods like themselves; and no tribe made war against them, though none trusted them as friends or allies in times of bad trouble."
'In you, as in all men, are natural powers. You have a will: learn to use it. Make it work for you. Sharpen your senses as you sharpen your knife. Remember the wolf smells better than you do because he has learned to depend on his nose. It tells him every secret the winds carry because he uses it all the time, make it work for him. We can give you nothing: you already posses everything necessary to be Great. Use your powers. Make them work for you, and you will become a great Chief.
'Crow in distress, get up, drink your fill, thin out your blood. Get up, women, cook, feed your young men. Foxes, breakfast is ready in the lodge over there; get up, take a swim, go thither. Lumpwoods, in yonder lodge breakfast is ready, they are waiting for you; get up, swim, all of you go there and eat! Big Dogs, in that lodge breakfast is ready, go thither, eat there! Poor Crow, whatever you do, hasten! A man is ever enslaving you. Your captive kin have surely been looking hither. 'Would that they helped us!' they keep thinking to themselves. The end has come. Nothing Lasts Forever. Even the trees, rooted as they are, fall down. You are not like them, you have no roots, your soles barely skim the ground. The Enemy acts as if he alone were brave. He strikes your distressed kin at his pleasure, he kills them at his pleasure. This is the end. We'll challenge him. Whem men meet, they kill each other. Whether he kills us, whether we kill him, it will be settled."
"Then the Lumpwoods came, drums a-thundering. . . . Good-Herald went out and spoke. He led the horse of Plays-with-his-face to the middle of the circle. 'Dear Crow, here is the one name Plays-with-his-face, look at him. What is called death he is not at all afraid of, he knows nothing about such fear. It is a marvel we own. Tomorrow or thereabouts he will not be among us. When the madcap goes into battle, he will be killed. Your own will be torn to pieces, the strewn fragments will be lying there.'"
"In speaking I am not speaking for myself; when I tell you something, the words are Sore-Belly's. Today go home, prepare food, cook what you like best and serve your young men. Hallo, all you young men, all you young women! I want you to listen. First I'll talk to you, young women. Tomorrow or thereabouts you will no longer see some half of your young men. Tonight keep not watch on your husbands, turn them loose. Don't reproach them, pay no attention to them whatever they do. Now, young men, it is your turn. After tomorrow I sall not see half of you again. If you are any decent sort of men, let your wife use her best clothing today. All of you Crow, wear your best clothing, eat your best food, in your speech with one another be as amiable as possible. Your women, you want to see your sweethearts; young men, you want to do likewise. Meet one another openly. This is all now, these are Sore-Belly's words. . . . "
. . . Sore-belly now unfolded his plan. He was going to send a few active young men to lure the Cheyenne into an ambush. There were two river-beds, and he filled both with men for a great distance. At the junction there was a big hill. The decoys were to keep clear of the coulees and to draw the enemy on through the intervening territory. The main body saw the Cheyenne coming. Sore-Belly urged them to hide till they got near the hill, then they were suddenly to cut off the rear of the Cheyenne from the van. The Crow hidden in the riverbeds then suddenly rushed up and attacked the enemy, who tried to retreat. "It was just like a whirlwind, there was dust and fog everywhere, and the report of guns was heard till the dust settled." Double-Face, Eager-To-Die, Plays-With-His-Face, Passes-Women all attacked the enemy. The Crow pursued the Cheyenne, killing them as they went along.
The Chief of the Cheyenne was named Striped-elk. He scolded his followers because they had not obeyed his warning against giving chase to the small Crow party. The Crow saw him from a distance and recognized him. They hated him because of the way he had abused Crow captives. Thus, a story was current that a Crow woman had been made to climb a tall cottonwood tree, which was then chopped down. One Crow, Sits-in-the-middle-of-the-ground, struck his side, produced a magical bullet and powder, then shot the Cheyenne chief. Though beyond the range of an old-fashioned gun, Stripped-elk was hit. He tottered on his horse amidst the mouth-clapping of the Crow and fell to the ground. His companions fled. The Crow ran towards him, took his scalp, and capture his horse. They riddled Sitting-elk with shots and crushed his skull into fragments.
Sore-Belly said, "It is enough, let us stop." Others wanted to pursue the fleeing Cheyenne: 'This is the fist chance we have had, let us go right away, take their children, their wives, their horses, their property.' But Sore-Belly insisted, and they stopped. "How many have we killed?" they asked. They turned back and began to count up to a hundred. Then someone said, "well, stop, it is dangerous to go on." They had not counted half of the slain. Then all met. "Well, it seems none of us has been killed." The younger brother of the old woman who had killed the meadow lark was missing; they did not know whether he had been killed or not. No one else was killed, only some men were wounded, and some horses. "They reached camp, they were happy, they had had their revenge. They sang, they danced."
'Every day go out to fight the enemy.
Every day be very strong and brave.
'Got to be a warrior!
Got to be a man!
The Crows love their land. That valley of the Echeta Casha* which the White Father in Washington has given them to be theirs as long as there is one Crow left to claim it belonged to them many hundreds of snows ago--before moccasin of white man ever pressed the plains. White Eagle [William Allen] knows I do not speak with crooked tongue.
'Nowhere else is to be found such beauty of mountain and valley. There sparkling streams of cold water never dry nor does tall, rich buffalo grass ever wither. The Crows have never feared winter cold nor summer heat for they have had many buffalo and elk to give them food and to clothe them to shelter them from falling snows and sun's rays. They have had wild geese and ducks and sage hens, deer and antelope. The Great Spirit placed along the streams for His children plum thickets, service bushes, chokecherry and bull-berry bushes. The mouths of our papooses are red in spring with strawberries. Everything man needs for his health and happiness is to be found in the valley of the Echeta Casha--the land of the Crows.
'All this White Eagle, friend of the Crow people, already knows. This our enemy, Sioux and Blackfeet and Pawness, also knew. And, though the Crows said nothing when enemy came to hunt our buffalo, yet the enemy were not satisfied. They wished to possess our beautiful land for their own.
'I tell you as my father's father told him and as he told me. Three hundred and fifty snows ago there was a young brave of the Absorokee people named 'Rolling Thunder,' the son of big Chief Sits-Down-Spotted. This young brave went into a Pawnee camp to take from them picketed horses and make coup. There he saw a Pawnee girl. Her voice was like the soft music of wind in pine trees. Her beauty was the beauty of the sun as it slips down behind the mountains. Her eyes spoke to him and he took her to be his woman and the he forgot the land of his fathers and became a member of the Pawnee tribe. Soon he learned their language and was appointed headman and even became member of the Pawnee Soldier's Lodge.
'Ane when he looked upon his woman his heart sang, but when he gazed across the valley to the far peaks that sheltered the tepee of Sits-Down-Spotted his heart was heavy.
'Then one day as he, with the members of the Pawnee Soldier's Lodge, met in council with men of the Shoshones and Sioux and Nez Perces and Blackfeet--men of all tribes except the Absorokees--Rolling Thunder learned that which made his heart cold. They were gathered about the fire--all these wise men--and they talked the sign language, lest even the trees and rocks hear their wicked plans. And he learned that all the tribes meant to band together, after cold had turned the leaves of trees red, and fight the Absarokees, known now as Crows, and take from them their beautiful land.
'When Rolling Thunder learned that, he could not speak. But he knew that more than all esle--more than women or children--he loved his own people and the land that for hundred of snows had belonged to them. He was married to a Pawnee woman. He had been taken into Pawnee tribe. They trusted him. But he knew now that he could not fight with them against people of his own blood.
'Silently when the council meeting was over he got up and went away, out into the woods where it was still. He wished to be alone so that he could think what was best for him to do.
'His Pawnee woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, followed him. "Where are you going?"
'She gazed into his face. "I wish to go with you," she said, for she knew that he spoke with crooked tongue.
'Rolling Thunder could not meet her eyes. "No," he said. "There are enemy on the warpath. They are scattered like fallen leaves in the wind."
"Yes," she said. "I know. And that is why I wish to go with you."
'He shook his head. "I am not going to the warm springs. I go to hunt buffalo."
"I can ride," the Pawnee girl said. "Not like a woman, like a brave. Even though we meet many enemies, with you I feel no fear."
'Then he knew he must speak the truth to his woman. He loved her; they were young; they had known happiness together. "There is to be war," he said. "Your people against my people. You are a Pawnee. I am an Absarokee. I go. You stay."
'She looked at him with flashing eyes. "Your heart does not speak," she said, "only your lips. I am your woman; you are my man."
'He thought she did not understand. "I am going back to my father", he told her, "and I will fight with him against your people."
"Absarokee--nothing", she answered, "Pawnee--nothing. Where you go, I go also."
'So that night, when all the camp was asleep, Rolling Thunder and his woman stole away. They rode swift buffalo ponies and led a pack of horse loaded with food and clothing, for it was a journey of many sleeps from the Pawnee camp to that of the Absarokee up in the Pryor Mountains. They wound close to the foot of the mountains so they might rush up into ca`nons and hide if enemy approached, and they traveled the dark trail, resting in the day time far back among the pines.
"You will not grieve for your people?"
'And she would answer him: "Once, for me, you gave up your people. Now, for you, I give up my people. I ask only that if there is war you spare my father. He had been kind to you. He is old."
'After many sleeps they came to Pryor Pass which was then, more than three hundred snows ago, just as it is now, a narrow valley with mountains on one side and a high wall of buttes on the other. The blood of the young braves flowed swift and warm in his veins because he was once more in the land of his fathers where every rock and tree and running stream recalled to him adventures of his boyhood.
'But now, as he gazed about, and saw far up the valley, another sleep away, the village of the Absarokees and the big tepee of his father with the golden eagle flashing on its topmost pole, his lips no longer sang. For he knew that the enemy, all the Pawnees and Blackfeet and Cheyennes and Sioux, meant to join and come rushing through that narrow pass and along the valley to attack his people. And he knew that in the valley his people, so few in number, would be slaughtered and their beautiful land lost to them forever.
"Yes," I told him, "I remember the place."
'Rolling Thunder stopped and looked about him, back at the pass and the widening valley through which the enemy would come from the north, and then at the ca`non. He signed for his woman to wait and rode a little way up into the ca`non. When he returned she saw that there was a smile upon his lips.
There was feasting and dancing in the village of the Absarokee that night, for the son of their chief had returned. A crier rode through the village chanting strange words until all the people came running out from tepees to hear his message.
"Rolling Thunder has returned and has brought with him a Pawnee woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, daughter of chief Red Tomahawk.
'Then all the Mountain Crows and all the River Crows put on their feast customes and gathered around the campfire and there was feasting and dancing and singing and speech-making.
'But when the feasting was over and women and children had gone to their tepees, when there remained around the fire only chiefs and headmen and medicine men, runners and wolves, then Rolling Thunder spoke.
"My heart sings," he told them, "because I am once more with my own people."
'The the father, Chief Sits-Down-Spotted, drew a few puffs from his red stone pipe and touched the bowl to the ground. He held it aloft and gazed at it in silence. Then he pointed the stem to the east, the west, the north, the south.
'After the peace-pipe smoke Rolling Thunder rose and spoke: "I have come from the land of the Pawnees, the land of our enemy. The enemy are as many as the blades of grass on our plains. They know that though we, the Absarokee, are brave of heart, we are few. They desire our land with its many fat buffalos and deer and mountain sheep, its tall grasses and running streams. Before another moon they will come down from the north, through the pass into our valley, Pawnees and Cheyennes and Sioux and Blackfeet, to take from us our horses and our land, to slaughter our women and children. They have already started on the warpath and have come as far as Clarks Fork and the mouth of Wind River. There they have camps. From these camps they send signals and, at the proper moment, they will join and rush in upon us. We cannot escape. There are mountains where the sun rises and mountains where the sun sets. They will trap us in ous valley like bear in a cave. I have spoken."
'His father, Sits-Down-Spotted, asked him: "All this you know? You speak no idle woman talk?"
" 'All this I know," said Rolling Thunder. "I have heard members of the Soldier's Lodge make plans. My woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, heard Pawnee wolves talk after they had been on lookout peaks where they could see all the valley of the Absarokee. Before another moon they will be upon us.' "
. . . 'I tell you the story as my father's father told it to him.
'In the valley south of Pryor Pass, near Pryor Creek, even today, are mounds covered with stones and overgrown with greasewood, two very high mounds and many smaller ones. Some say they are to mark an old trail, but that is not so. No paleface knows their history. All Indians riding by, even to this day, add a stone to the pile, though few understand why. They do not know they are erecting a monument to Crow Warriors killed in the fiercest battle fought by Indian tribes.
'It was the time when wild geese fly south to winter sun. Runners were sent to warn River Crows and soon they came to join the Mountain Crows, bringing with them women and children, horses and dogs. And yet, though all the valley between mountain ranges was covered with tepees of our people, we were to our enemy as but one star in the Blue. Wolves stationed on high points looking across rivers and ca`nons and valleys watched for approach of the foe, while swift runners waited their signals, ready to dash into camp with messages.
'In Crow village everyone was busy, hearts heave with anxiety. For, if our enemy won in the terrible battle soon to take place, then those of our people who were left would be driven from their land of plenty and must take with them all they could carry of food and clothing. So the women worked from rising sun to its setting, worked for their men and children and the country they loved. They cut up the meat the hunters were bringing in daily from the kill and hung it up to dry. They gathered bull-berries for pemmican--enough to fill all their parfleche boxes. They made moccasins and bed robes and body robes and covers of buffalo hides for the tepees.
"We dare not fight our enemy in the open for we are too few."
'The eyes of Chief Sits-Down-Spotted flashed.
"Would you have us run from the enemy as buffalo runs from the hunter?"
'Rolling Thunder sprang from his feet. "I have a plan! As I, with my Pawnee woman, came from the south through Pryor Pass I saw a ca`non. narrow and high, running west from the valley. I would have all our warriors, save fifty young men, gather in that ca`non with food for many days and war clubs and arrows. I would have our women fix bushes and small trees across the opening as though they grew there. Then, when our wolves tell us the enemy is approaching from Wind River and Clark Fork, I would lead fifty young braves close to the Pass through which they must come. We would be mounted on the swiftest of buffalo ponies. We would seem to the enemy not warriors, only young men hunting. They would pursue us and we would lead them on, though beyong reach of their arrows, until they had shot them all toward us. Then, when all their arrows were used, we would dash past the mouth of the ca`non and the Crow Warriors hidden there could spring out upon them. If our medicine is strong and if the Great Spirit is kind to us we shall save our land for our children and our children's children forever. I have spoken."
'Old Chief Sits-Down-Spotted saod nothing, but his heart sang for it was his son who had spoken wise words.
'One of the warriors said: "The heart of Rolling Thunder is young but his head is old. We will do in all things as he advises."
'Then, said Rolling Thunder, "Let us waken women and children and move camp at once, traveling the dark trail, so enemy wolves cannot see and guess our plans."
'As the young brave had said, so it was done. Before another sleep all our Crow people, except fifty young men, were concealed back in the ca`non along Pryor Creek with horses and dogs and food to last many sleeps. And while they waited behind the blind of pine trees that our women had thrust into the ground, many times the Old Woman rose high in the Blue and sank behind mountain peaks. And still our wolves on lookout points saw no sign of approaching enemy.
'But, after many sleeps, one morning early the Crows heard a dull rumbling they knew to be the beat of thousands of hoofs upon the earth. Soon large herds of buffalo came pouring through the pass and into the valley as though they were being driven. Soon all the valley was dark with them.
'Women said: "The Great Spirit is kind to his children, the Crows. He loves us best. He is sending all the buffalo in the world to us."
'But Rolling Thunder said: "The time has come. Our enemy must be advancing in such vast numbers that they cover all the valley of Echeta Casha Asha, driving buffalos ahead of them. Now I, with my fifty braves, will hurry to the pass and pretend to hunt buffaloes and lead the enemy to the ca`non.
'He was about to leap upon his horse, but the Pawnee woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, ran up to him and stood before him, her hand upon his arm.
" 'Your are going to fight my people,' she said. "It is well, for I am your woman and my heart is with your people, the Absarokees. But my father, Red Tomahawk, Chief of the Pawnees, is old. His heart beats slow, hiw sinews are tired. He desired peace with your people but when his young men talked big war talk he could do nothing. If you win in today's battle I ask that you spare my father.
'Rolling thunder looked down into the face of his woman, looked long, for he might never see her again. His heart was heavy. He said: "If I live I will bring your father back to you."
"And if an enemy's arrow pierces your heart, then another shall pierce mine and I will join you in the Happy Hunting Ground, for I would not wish to remain long upon the earth without you."
'The Rolling Thunder and his fifty braves rode slowly on southward toward Pryor Pass, shooting at buffalo, a song upon their lips. They followed the trail past the high peak of red stone which stands there today, just as it did three hundred snows ago. And things happened as they had planned. The enemy came pouring through Pryor Pass like waters of a great river, all the tribes of the south, joined against the Absarokees. They came yelling their war cries and waving their tomahawks. They wore war bonnets that trailed on the ground. Their faces were ugly with paint.
'And when they saw the little band of young Crow hunters running from them like rabbits making their holes, they rent the air with war whoops. They quirted their horses and filled the air with arrows that fell harmlessly just back of the fleeing Crows. And the Crows scurried this way and that across the valley, trying to dodge arrows, trying to lead the enemy on toward the ca`non.
'You Palefaces know that valley. Your cattle graze there. You go to built camp fires on Pryor Creek and make coffee and then lie down to sleep where all is peace and stillness, without thought of fear. None of you know of that day three hundred and fifty years ago when hearts beat fast with fear, when the air was loud with shrieks of warriors, when the long grass was stained red with blood of Crow, Sioux, Pawnee and Cheyenne, when the pure waters of the creek were damned by heaped-up bodies of the dying, staggering there, mad with thirst.
'You speak of the beautiful valley as "The Crow Reservation," given us by the White Father. You do not know that the Crows bought that land with their lives, paid for it in suffering and blood.
'Some few of Rolling Thunder's braves fell that day under shower of enemy arrows. When he thought that most of the arrows had been spent, he, with those of his men who were left, dashed back across Pryor Creek and past the mouth of the ca`non. On he went with his small band, the enemy close at heel, yelling, ready to spring on them with war clubs and scalping knives, riding into the trap set for them.
'Suddenly the thick forest of little trees fell as though before a strong wind and from out the ca`non, closing in upon the surprised enemy, poured all the hidden Crow Warriors. They were still out-numbered three to one, but their horses were fresh and their arrows many and they were fighting for that which was nearest their hearts--Home and Children.
'All though the long day they fought until the air was filled with the whine of flying arrows and shrieks of wounded horses and moans of dying men. Men pulled arrows our of dead bodies to use them over again. They fought hand-to-hand with war clubs and knives. They fought until, as the sun sank down behind the mountains, those of the enemy who were spared went crawling back through the Pass to their camps on Wind River, leaving dead and dying.
The big chief sighed and smiled. "Rolling Thunder captured him early in the battle and hid him safely in the ca`non back of the trees. That night he was led to the camp of the Crows and there, with his daughter and Rolling Thunder, he lived out his days in peace and happines."
'Then this day Double-face was lying around; he stripped, he was nervous, he was uncomfortable. whatever he undertook turned out ill. The reason he was upset was that there was to be a battle and he was nervous: whether because of eagerness or fear, whatever the cause, that is why he was upset. He would smoke, he would sit up, he lay down, he got up and bathed, he would return and stroll about, then he sat down. Now he had an elder brother, Deer-Neklace, and him he sent for. He came and entered. 'Sit there.' This man who had just entered said, 'Well, why are you calling me?' Well, I am upset now, that is why I am calling you. There are three things I am now eager to do: I want to sing a sacred song; I want to sing a Big Dog song; I want to cry. Why is it thus?' Double-face asked. This man answered: 'You are about to go to battle, your medicines are anxious, that is why. Wait!' He boiled wild-carrot root . . . and mixed it with a little white clay. Double-Face took it . . . and swallowed it. 'That is all, I'll go now.' This man went out and away.
"' I used to think that since my birth I had had many sorrows. It turns out that there was something in store for me. I was grieving, but I did not know that today all manner of sorrow would be coming to a head. The women at my home are miserable, I daresay. 'How are the captive Crow faring?' they are ever thinking to themselves. My poor dear housemates, my distressed kin, the enemy makes them sit under the dripping water, he is ever abusing them, he thinks his men are the only ones to be brave. What can I do to distress him, I wonder?
"Double-Face went crying," the tale continues, "and those who heard him all cried."
We have reached the peak of the Crow Spirit. With a splendid gesture the hero turns away from the earthly goods that figure so largely in Crow Prayer; he has no thought even of glory, he thinks only of his suffering kin in a hostile camp. Bruised by the problem of evil that in retrospect seems to have dogged him from infancy, he asks only for release from his torture. Why linger? Earth and sky are everlasting, but men must die; old age is a scourge and death in battle a blessing.
A small, dirty boy prowled the Crow Indian camp, crying. His wails bothered everyone, yet for some reason no one had seen him distinctly. When the camp moved, no one paid any attention when he stayed behind, hunting for old buckskin, worn moccasins, and such. His food was what he could find laying about the deserted camp. He warmed himself at the nearly dead fire and filled his traveling sack with broken arrows and arrow points. He would follow the moving camp.
When he caught up with the frequently moving camp, he always stopped at the last teepee.
There he would hide under the tanned buffalo robes which were sometimes left outside the teepees. Before the camp woke in the morning, he would slip away and hide in the woods or in the brush until night.
This went on until he was old enough to feel shame at being so poor and alone.
Finally, he decided to go to the mountains and fast. Perhaps, then, the Great Spirit would help him do something that was of value. Something that would help the camp as well as himself.
At sundown, he started around the camp, crying mournfully. He went around it four times, then started toward the distant mountains. On the fourth day, he was on a high peak. He was beginning to feel weak. He had not eaten since he started. He lay down by a big tree and tried to sleep.
When the boy wakened, the sun was shinning in his eyes. He lay pondering the wonderful dream and the coup stick and rattle which lay at his side.
Four days later, the boy stumbled into the Indian Camp and went to find Deer Hoofs to tell him the dream and to show his treasures. He also asked for the arrows and bow.
One day, the camp wolves came home much excited. They had seen a large number of enemy Indians coming toward the camp.
Buffalo Boy asked the chief if he, too, could be a warrior. When he was asked where his horse was, he hung his head in shame. The chief was a kind man, and he had learned that Buffalo Boy could be trusted. He gave the boy one of his own horses, but warned him to be very careful to return with the horse.
Buffalo Boy was the first to meet the enemy.
His arrow brought down one of their great leaders-- a man who had many coups and good medicine. Buffalo Boy took his medicine bag and coup stick. During that battle, Buffalo Boy made many coups and came home with mane horses of his own.
A few nights later, he slipped quietly upon an enemy camp. He stampeded their horses toward his own camp. In the noise and confusion he also took the chief's own coup stick and arrows.
Buffalo Boy was not the camp hero. His heart sang like the brook as it ran over the rocks nearby. The camp now had many horses. Their wolves could see the enemy fleeing back to their own country.
With a full heart, Buffalo Boy ran to his teepee. She waited just in front of the teepee. She had on a white robe. He stopped to tell her what he had told the Chief.
Four days later, Buffalo Boy was again on the mountain peak, waiting for Old Buffalo to tell him what the great task was to be. He walked a circle until his legs trembled with tiredness and his vision blurred.
He stumbled and fell near a big rock and lay there, too weary and weak to get up.
Some time later, he heard voices, but they spoke in a language he knew not. Then he saw the men--big and queer, looking at him.
The men seemed to fade away, but the boy could hear the buffalo rushing from him. He slipped and slid down the mountain; he fell into a great bunch of rushing, snorting buffalo--all going toward another big mountain far away.
He caught the tail of one big buffalo and held on tightly, hoping to follow them that way and perhaps chase some back. Many times, he nearly lost his hold. Animals kicked him--their horns scratched him, but still he held on.
It suddenly became dark and voices called to the boy to turn the buffalo. The door would soon close and all--even he--would be there forever.
He let go of the tail and hit at some of the buffalo that were pushing at him. He seemed to have great strength; he pushed many back until they were in the light again. He kept pushing them back, away from the great door.
He saw a big limb laying by the door, so he pulled it up in front to make a barrier to keep these animals out.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet seemed to sway and slip. The great door slid shut. The boy could hear the buffalo in the mountain, bellowing and pawing and traveling away from the door. Rocks were falling about him. The ground again trembled beneath his feet.
The boy bowed his head and cried bitterly because he thought he had failed in his great task.
The door was closed forever and the buffalo were gone. What would his people do now?
After a time, the ground stopped trembling; rocks no longer rolled down the mountain. The boy looked about him.
Where the great door had been only a big scar was to be seen. The rocks lay in piles in front of it.
The few buffalo he had kept out lay huddled and frightened in a clump of ash and cedar trees. He did not recognize this place--he was lost!
When Buffalo Boy came to the camp and told the wise men his great story, they were sad indeed. They knew it meant the buffalo was soon to be few and they must save what they had for all time to come.
Buffalo boy went to his teepee and was met by the chief's daughter in the white robe. He entered in, saying, 'Our home will be happe, our family big. We will always remember Old Buffalo. He has been good to us."