AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE FLATHEADS
The elated young Sioux lost little time in removing the great claws from
Matohota and the cruel, sharp talons from fierce Imutanka. They longed
to take the pelts as well, but they realized that it would be folly to
burden themselves with them. They spent some time, however, examining
the wounds which the savage creatures had inflicted upon each other. The
lion had bitten deeply into the back of Matohota's neck and ripped
terrible gashes in his back. Matohota had taken full revenge. His great
claws had torn gaping wounds in the chest and shoulders of Imutanka and
it was evident that the lion would have expired from loss of blood if
the Sioux had not ended its agony with their arrows. They decided,
therefore, that great Matohota should be credited with victory.
"Imutanka was very brave, but Matohota was too strong for him," declared
Sun Bird.
"Yes, Matohota won the fight," agreed White Otter.
As the night was far advanced they determined to wait until daylight
before setting out to rejoin their companions. They spent some time
dancing solemnly about their victims, and chanting their war songs. Then
they opened the carcasses of the bear and the lion and removed the
hearts. They cut them into two parts and ate them with superstitious
zeal. It was an ancient custom of the Dacotahs, who believed that by
consuming the heart of a particularly strong and courageous bear or lion
they would absorb the strength and courage of the animal itself.
At dawn the Sioux determined to follow the game trail to the plain, in
the hope of encountering some of the war party. They had thoughtfully
cut the arrows from the bodies of Matohota and Imutanka so that if
either the Blackfeet or the Crows chanced to visit the spot they would
be unable to guess who had ventured upon their hunting grounds.
"Perhaps we will find out something about that pony," suggested Sun
Bird, as they moved slowly down the game trail.
"See, here are the tracks of Imutanka," said White Otter.
The trail of the lion was plainly visible. The Sioux gave little
attention to it. Their interest in fierce Imutanka had ended with his
death. They were curious, however, to learn more about the unfortunate
pony. They watched closely to find its tracks. They were faint and far
apart, and although Sun Bird and White Otter were expert trailers they
could gain little information from the unsatisfactory trail.
Then the game trail suddenly led them to an open plateau which offered
an extended view of the plain. They saw a small company of horsemen
riding toward the ridge. They studied them closely. There were eight.
"Perhaps our friends are looking for us," said Sun Bird.
White Otter remained silent. His whole attention was concentrated upon
the approaching horsemen. They were a considerable distance below him
and some distance from the base of the ridge. It was difficult to
identify them, but the Ogalala was straining his eyes in the attempt. He
was particularly noting the ponies, as he had become thoroughly familiar
with the color and type of every animal in the Minneconjoux war party.
He failed to recognize any of the ponies which were approaching the
timber. One was a buckskin, and there were two pintos. There were
several such animals in the Sioux war party, but they differed in type
from the ponies on the plain. White Otter was suspicious of the
approaching horsemen. Sun Bird, too, was becoming uneasy about them.
"Who are they?" he asked, anxiously.
"They are not our people," White Otter assured him. "I do not know who
they are. Do you know them?"
"No," replied Sun Bird.
They watched anxiously while the riders drew nearer the base of the
ridge. As they finally came within bow range of the timber, they stopped
and began to watch the ridge. For a moment the Sioux wondered if the
horsemen had discovered them. It seemed impossible, as they had hidden
themselves in the undergrowth the moment they discovered the riders.
"No, they did not see us," White Otter declared, confidently. "I believe
they are scouts. Perhaps they are Blackfeet."
"No, they are not Blackfeet," said Sun Bird. "I know those people a long
ways off."
"Well, they do not look like Crows," White Otter told him.
"No, they are not Crows," replied Sun Bird.
"Who are they?" demanded White Otter.
"I cannot tell you that until they come closer," Sun Bird told him.
In the meantime one of the horsemen had left his companions and was
riding cautiously toward the ridge. His friends were watching him
closely and seemed ready to rush to his assistance at the first warning
of danger. As the scout drew steadily nearer, the Sioux studied him with
great care. Sun Bird was positive that he was not a Blackfoot, and both
of them were equally certain that he was not a Crow. The Crows allowed
their hair to grow to great length, and wore it in two massive braids
which often fell below their knees. The man who was approaching the
ridge, however, had a great abundance of rather short, unbraided hair,
which fell loosely about his shoulders. As Sun Bird noted it, and the
high, peculiar shape of the warrior's head he suddenly identified him.
"Now I know about him," he told White Otter. "He is a Flathead. It is
bad. They are enemies of my people. We must watch out."
"I have heard my grandfather tell about those people," said White Otter.
He recalled the stories which old Wolf Robe had told about how the
Flatheads flattened the heads of their children by tightly binding the
skulls of the babies between stiff slabs of bark, and keeping them in
the vise until the skulls were pressed into the desired shape. Those
strange people considered a high, flat skull a great mark of beauty. As
they were a northern tribe, hovering about the mountains, it was the
first time White Otter had encountered them. He studied the approaching
rider with curious interest.
"They are great hunters," Sun Bird told him. "I believe these riders are
coming to this ridge to hunt."
"Perhaps they will follow this trail," suggested White Otter. "Perhaps
they will go up there where we killed Matohota, to watch for game."
Sun Bird started at the suggestion. It appeared to have offered an
interesting possibility. He drew the mysterious arrow from his bowcase,
and smiled significantly at White Otter.
"Now I know about this thing," he said. "This arrow came from the
Flatheads."
White Otter nodded understandingly.
In the meantime the Flathead scout had reached the base of the ridge and
disappeared from their sight. They turned their attention to the company
of horsemen who were waiting on the plain. They seemed to be watching
for the signal to advance.
"Those people are very cautious," said White Otter.
"Perhaps they are afraid of the Blackfeet," Sun Bird told him.
Then they heard a shout from the base of the ridge, and the horsemen
cantered briskly toward the timber. The Sioux realized that it was time
to move from the plateau. They believed it would be easy to return to
the top of the ridge and escape from their enemies. Sun Bird, however,
showed a desire to linger.
"Those look like good ponies," he told White Otter, as his eyes twinkled
mischievously. "The Flatheads are our enemies. They have killed some of
my people. I feel like taking away some of those ponies."
"You are the leader, I will follow you," White Otter said, quietly.
"It is good," Sun Bird declared, enthusiastically.
Their first thought, however, was to conceal themselves sufficiently
near the game trail to see the Flatheads if they passed. It was a bold
resolve, and the eyes of the daring young Sioux flashed with excitement.
They had been taught from infancy that the noblest aim of a warrior was
to inflict punishment upon his enemies, and they determined to make the
most of their opportunity. They concealed themselves within easy bowshot
of the trail, and waited anxiously for the Flatheads to appear. It was
not long before the Sioux heard them approaching.
"They are coming," whispered Sun Bird.
They watched in breathless suspense, and in a few moments they saw the
first horseman appear at the edge of the plateau. His companions
followed closely behind him. The Sioux were greatly surprised when the
Flatheads stopped their ponies in the center of the open park and began
to dismount. Then the ponies were left with two warriors and the other
members of the company passed up the game trail on foot. The Sioux had a
splendid view of them at close range. They were tall, muscular men,
whose high, flattened skulls gave them a weird and sinister expression.
As they were not painted for war, the Sioux believed they were hunters.
"Perhaps they will find our tracks," Sun Bird whispered, uneasily, after
they had passed.
White Otter looked serious. The possibility had already flashed through
his mind, and he was troubled about it. He knew that even one indistinct
impression of a fresh moccasin track would arouse the suspicions of the
Flatheads, and send them hurrying to the plateau to investigate. Then it
would be impossible to capture the ponies, and difficult to get away.
"The ground is hard," Sun Bird said, hopefully. "We did not make many
tracks."
"The eyes of a hunter are sharp," White Otter cautioned him.
Realizing that there was nothing to be gained by worrying over the
possibility of the Flatheads discovering their tracks, the Sioux
dismissed the thought from their minds and turned their attention upon
the warriors with the ponies. The latter had incautiously turned loose
the ponies to graze in the center of the park and had stationed
themselves on opposite sides of the plateau to watch them. The Sioux
instantly saw their opportunity.
"Those warriors are very foolish," Sun Bird said, excitedly. "Now we can
creep up and get two of those ponies."
"We must be quick," White Otter told him. "Those other warriors may come
back."
"I will take that yellow pony, it looks fast," said Sun Bird.
"I will take the spotted pony with the white tail," said White Otter.
Having made their selection, the Sioux realized that they must attempt
their daring coup without a moment's delay. They moved through the
undergrowth with the alert, silent stealth of Huhasapedan, the fox.
When they were almost at the edge of the park they stopped to plan their
reckless dash upon the ponies. The animals which they hoped to secure
were grazing near the edge of the timber and the Flathead who guarded
them was picking berries a short distance away. The Sioux crawled a
bowlength nearer. Then as one of the ponies suddenly raised its head,
they stopped and waited with thumping hearts to learn if they had been
discovered. The unsuspecting animal resumed its feeding, however, and
the Sioux breathed more easily. Again they moved carefully toward the
border of the park. Their eyes were fixed upon the ponies, and their
ears were open to catch the first warning that the Flatheads had found
their tracks.
When they finally reached the edge of the timber, the ponies which they
had selected were almost within reach of them. They were grazing
quietly, and the long rawhide lariats were trailing between their feet.
The Flathead had turned his back upon them and was stooped over
searching for berries in the long grass. The warrior on the opposite
side of the park was lying in the shade of a tree. The Sioux realized
that their opportunity was at hand. Each fastened his eyes upon the
animal he planned to capture and prepared to rush into the park. At
that moment, however, they heard a signal from the upper end of the game
trail. The truth instantly flashed through their minds. The Flathead
hunters had discovered their trail.
"Come!" cried White Otter.
They jumped to their feet and rushed recklessly into the park. Then as
the startled ponies turned in panic, the Sioux sprang forward and seized
the lariats. The next moment they had mounted and were riding furiously
down the game trail. They chuckled with boyish glee as they heard the
alarmed Flathead guards yelling frantically for their companions.