IT was a beautiful fall day--‘a gopher’s last look back,’ as we used to
say of the last warm days of the late autumn. We were encamped beside
a wild rice lake, where two months before we had harvested our watery
fields of grain, and where we had now returned for the duck-hunting.
All was well with us. Ducks were killed in countless numbers, and in the
evenings the men hunted deer in canoes by torchlight along the shores of
the lake. But alas! life is made up of good times and bad times, and it
is when we are perfectly happy that we should expect some overwhelming
misfortune.
“So it was that upon this peaceful and still morning, all of a sudden a
harsh and terrible war-cry was heard! Your father was then quite a young
man, and a very ambitious warrior, so that I was always frightened on
his account whenever there was a chance of fighting. But I did not think
of your uncle, Mysterious Medicine, for he was not over fifteen at the
time; besides, he had never shown any taste for the field.
“Our camp was thrown into great excitement; and as the warriors advanced
to meet the enemy, I was almost overcome by the sight of your uncle
among them! It was of no use for me to call him back--I think I prayed
in that moment to the Great Mystery to bring my boy safely home.
“I shall never forget, as long as I live, the events of that day. Many
brave men were killed; among them two of your uncle’s intimate friends.
But when the battle was over, my boy came back; only his face was
blackened in mourning for his friends, and he bore several wounds in his
body. I knew that he had proved himself a true warrior.
“This was the beginning of your uncle’s career, He has surpassed your
father and your grandfather; yes, all his ancestors except Jingling
Thunder, in daring and skill.”
Such was my grandmother’s account of the maiden battle of her third
son, Mysterious Medicine. He achieved many other names; among them Big
Hunter, Long Rifle and White Footprint. He had a favorite Kentucky rifle
which he carried for many years. The stock was several times broken,
but he always made another. With this gun he excelled most of
his contemporaries in accuracy of aim. He used to call the weapon
Ishtahbopopa--a literal translation would be “Pops-the-eye.”
My uncle, who was a father to me for ten years of my life, was almost a
giant in his proportions, very symmetrical and “straight as an arrow.”
His face was not at all handsome. He had very quiet and reserved manners
and was a man of action rather than of unnecessary words. Behind the
veil of Indian reticence he had an inexhaustible fund of wit and humor;
but this part of his character only appeared before his family and very
intimate friends. Few men know nature more thoroughly than he. Nothing
irritated him more than to hear some natural fact misrepresented. I
have often thought that with education he might have made a Darwin or an
Agassiz.
He was always modest and unconscious of self in relating his adventures.
“I have often been forced to realize my danger,” he used to say, “but
not in such a way as to overwhelm me. Only twice in my life have I been
really frightened, and for an instant lost my presence of mind.
“Once I was in full pursuit of a large buck deer that I had wounded.
It was winter, and there was a very heavy fall of fresh snow upon the
ground. All at once I came upon the body of the deer lying dead on the
snow. I began to make a hasty examination, but before I had made any
discoveries, I spied the tips of two ears peeping just above the surface
of the snow about twenty feet from me. I made a feint of not seeing
anything at all, but moved quickly in the direction of my gun, which was
leaning against a tree. Feeling, somehow, that I was about to be taken
advantage of, I snatched at the same moment my knife from my belt.
“The panther (for such it was) made a sudden and desperate spring.
I tried to dodge, but he was too quick for me. He caught me by the
shoulder with his great paw, and threw me down. Somehow, he did not
retain his hold, but made another leap and again concealed himself in
the snow. Evidently he was preparing to make a fresh attack.
“I was partially stunned and greatly confused by the blow; therefore I
should have been an easy prey for him at the moment. But when he left
me, I came to my senses; and I had been thrown near my gun! I arose and
aimed between the tips of his ears--all that was visible of him--and
fired. I saw the fresh snow fly from the spot. The panther leaped about
six feet straight up into the air, and fell motionless. I gave two good
warwhoops, because I had conquered a very formidable enemy. I sat down
on the dead body to rest, and my heart beat as if it would knock out all
my ribs. I had not been expecting any danger, and that was why I was so
taken by surprise.
“The other time was on the plains, in summer. I was accustomed to
hunting in the woods, and never before had hunted buffalo on horseback.
Being a young man, of course I was eager to do whatever other men did.
Therefore I saddled my pony for the hunt. I had a swift pony and a good
gun, but on this occasion I preferred a bow and arrows.
“It was the time of year when the buffalo go in large herds and the
bulls are vicious. But this did not trouble me at all; indeed, I thought
of nothing but the excitement and honor of the chase.
“A vast plain near the Souris river was literally covered with an
immense herd. The day was fair, and we came up with them very easily. I
had a quiver full of arrows, with a sinew-backed bow.
“My pony carried me in far ahead of all the others. I found myself in
the midst of the bulls first, for they are slow. They threw toward
me vicious glances, so I hastened my pony on to the cows. Soon I was
enveloped in a thick cloud of dust, and completely surrounded by the
herd, who were by this time in the act of fleeing, their hoofs making a
noise like thunder.
“I could not think of anything but my own situation, which confused me
for the moment. It seemed to me to be a desperate one. If my pony, which
was going at full speed, should step into a badger hole, I should be
thrown to the ground and trampled under foot in an instant. If I were to
stop, they would knock me over, pony and all. Again, it seemed as if my
horse must fall from sheer exhaustion; and then what would become of me?
“At last I awoke to a calm realization of my own power. I uttered a yell
and began to shoot right and left. Very soon there were only a few old
bulls who remained near me. The herd had scattered, and I was miles away
from my companions.
“It is when we think of our personal danger that we are apt to be at
a loss to do the best thing under the circumstances. One should be
unconscious of self in order to do his duty. We are very apt to think
ourselves brave, when we are most timid. I have discovered that half our
young men give the war-whoop when they are frightened, because they fear
lest their silence may betray their state of mind. I think we are really
bravest when most calm and slow to action.”