winter, and in the spring more young were born. There were now in the
gens many two, and three, and some four-year-olds, both male and
female, and they could not mate with one another; something had to be
done for them. Old White Fur called a council, and there was much talk
about it. Some favored sending scouts away down the Little River to
learn if there were any beaver colonies along it. Others, and the
greater number, declared that the unmarried males should take the
trail through the gap down to Cutbank River, find mates in the
different gens having ponds along it, and tell the unmarried males
there to come over and take wives from White Fur's gens. It was
decided that this should be done, and one morning more than forty
young males started for Cutbank River.
"Days passed; and yet more days, and no wife-seeking beavers came to
the pond on Little River. 'Something is wrong,' White Fur told Loud
Slap.
"'_Ai!_ Something is wrong. If none come within four days' time, I
shall go over to the Cutbank ponds and learn what the trouble is.'
"The four days passed, and no stranger, not one, came. On the fifth
morning Loud Slap once more took the trail for Cutbank, saying to
White Fur as he left, 'If I do not return within four days' time, then
send some one over to learn what the trouble is, for I shall be dead.'
"Down the river went Loud Slap, and up the little fork, and thence
along the trail through the gap in the ridge. He moved along very
cautiously, keeping a sharp lookout in all directions, and seeing
nothing to alarm him. After passing through the gap he saw, on a ridge
to the east, a number of wolves following a small band of buffalo, and
that pleased him, for, seeking food there, they would not be likely to
turn and cross his trail. He hurried on down the slope.
"Suddenly, when near the river, a whirl of wind brought a dreadful
odor to his nostrils; an odor of dead and decaying flesh. He stopped,
sat up, looked sharply ahead, saw nothing to alarm him, went on a
short distance, and came upon a scene that made him shiver; that made
him mourn: there, on the trail and on both sides of it, lay his
youthful kin who had gone out to seek wives! There they lay, their
bodies swollen and bursting, every one of them mangled and torn,
several half eaten by their enemies, wolves probably, that had
discovered and killed them all! One look at them was enough; he
hurried on, weeping, and plunged into the river.
"Upstream he went, faster than he had ever swam before, and soon
entered the lower one of the beaver ponds. Straight to the chief's
lodge he swam, and dived down to the entrance, and went up into the
big and comfortable grass-floored home.
"'Ha! Loud Slap! It is you! Welcome you are! Sit youth and give us the
news!' the chief cried out.
"Loud Slap greeted him and gave the news, and both wept over the death
of so many of their kind. The chief's wife went out and spread the
news, and there was mourning in every lodge in that pond.
"The chief then gave Loud Slap bad news. Said he: 'In the early part
of this moon came to us a visitor from the big pond at the head of the
lake on the next stream south of this river.' He meant, of course,
the great beaver pond just above Lower Two Medicine Lake.
"'Yes?' said Loud Slap,--'yes?'
"'Ah! He came and visited us and our kin in the other ponds, and gave
no reason for his coming, and soon went home. But in a few days' time
he returned with all his gens, and they are many, and took possession
of the upper pond, your pond, and at this time they are repairing the
dam and backing the water up into the new growth of food trees, which
are as thick as they can stand. We told him, we all told him, this
chief,--Strong Dam is his name,--that he should not take the pond, as
it belongs to you, to your father, White Fur, and his gens. But he
said that he did not care who owned it, he had taken it, and would
hold it, fight for it against all comers.'
"'Ha! Is it so!' Loud Slap cried. 'We will see about that! Say nothing
to any one that I have been here. Tell your people to keep my visit
secret from all above here. I go to bring my kindred over, and we will
drive that Strong Dam and his gens back whence they came, or kill
them all.'
"Loud Slap went back to his Little River home the next day, and told
all that he had seen and learned. All mourned and mourned for their
dead, and their hearts burned with anger against Strong Dam and his
gens. Said White Fur: 'I am old, old. But I can still fight! We will
go over to our pond to-morrow. I will lead you, and we will teach that
Strong Dam and his relatives something; we will send them crying back
to their pond above the lake!'
"They started the next morning, all the males, and even females that
were without young; and they were many, those who were waiting for
males of other gentes to come and marry them. Old White Fur led them
across to the river without mishap, and up to the first pond, where
they visited, and rested, and ate their fill of fresh, green bark. And
there some of the females met young unmarried males who wanted to mate
with them; and they answered, 'We will marry you, but first you must
fight for us; you must help us drive that Strong Dam and his gens
from our pond.'
"'And is that all you ask?' they replied. 'We are only too glad to
help you. Who would not fight for his sweetheart should not have one!'
"This gave White Fur something to think about; and after a time he
said to Loud Slap: 'Go, now, on a secret mission: visit the ponds of
our friends above here, and say to the unmarried males that our young
females here will marry them, but they must first help us drive Strong
Dam from this river.'
"'Ai! That is a good plan,' said Loud Slap; and he started at once to
carry it out. Late that night he returned, and reported that all the
young males had agreed to the proposal, and would join White Fur and
his kin when they came along.
"'Let us start now,' said White Fur; and the advance began, and by the
time he reached the dam of his own old pond, he had a large following.
"There was a young man lying there on the dam, a far-back ancestor of
ours who had gone there to get his medicine dream; his vision. He was
awake; and when, in the bright moonlight, he saw that big, old,
white-furred beaver come up on the dam, and a hundred and more beaver
following, he could not believe his eyes, and cried out: 'Am I really
and truly awake, or is this a medicine vision?'
"'Hush! Keep still,' old White Fur told him. 'What you see is real. We
are come to fight and drive off those here who have stolen our pond
and our new growth of food trees. Just you keep still: we want to
surprise them. If you see that they are beating us, then give us help.
When all is over, I will give you a medicine that will insure you long
life and happiness.'
"The young man--No Otter was his name--made signs that he would keep
quiet. And he sat there and watched more than a hundred beavers cross
the dam close in front of him, and slide quietly into the pond, and
even then could hardly believe that he was not dreaming.
"As they entered the water that great war party of beavers swam out in
all directions for the shores of the pond, where, scattered all
along, Strong Dam and his kin were already cutting the young trees
for winter food. And as he watched and listened, the young man heard
suddenly a great commotion and squealing all along the shore: the
fighting had begun. Then, almost at once, the attacked and the
attackers took to the water, and the whole surface of the pond was as
if it had been struck by a tornado. It boiled, and eddied, and foamed,
and shot high in spray, and with it all was the slap! slap! slap! of
beaver tails as the animals struggled and clinched, and floundered and
bit, all over its long length and width. And soon beavers, frightened
and gasping for breath, and bleeding from many wounds, began to pass
on each side of the young man over the dam, and drop into the stream
below and disappear in its swift current. And some, unable to climb
it, and bleeding from many wounds, died there at the edge of the dam
and sank. The water was red with their blood. One of them, crawling
out, staggered right up against the young man, and gasped, and died,
and he put out his hand and felt of it, its wet coat, the warm but
now breathless body, and then for the first time was he sure that what
he was witnessing was real, and no dream.
"The fight was over. The last of the enemy had been killed, or had
fled down river, and White Fur and his party gathered on the dam. Not
all were there: some of them lay dead on the bottom of the pond or
sorely wounded on the shore. White Fur directed that they should be
helped into the cool lodges, where they would be safe from the
prowlers, and there cared for and fed. That done, said White Fur to
the young man: 'You have seen a great sight this night. Had we needed
your help I know that you would have given it.'
"'Yes, you had but to call, and I would have been with you,' the young
man answered.
"'I know it,' said White Fur, 'and just for your good-will I shall
give you a strong medicine, and teach you the songs that go with it.
But I cannot do this here; you will have to go home with us, to our
pond on the next stream to the north.'
[Illustration: BIGHORN COUNTRY. HEAD OF CUTBANK RIVER]
"They went there the next day, leaving behind the newly married
females and their mates to care for the wounded and make them well.
And on the way up through the gap and down to the pond, White Fur and
Loud Slap told the young man the story of their lives and their
troubles, just as I am telling it to you. And upon reaching the pond
on Little River, No Otter remained there a long time with the beavers,
the old chief and his son, Loud Slap, giving him a medicine beaver
cutting and teaching him the beaver songs. It was a good medicine. He
took it home with him, and kept it, and made ceremony with it, and
sang the songs as he had been taught to do, and because of that he had
great success at war, and in curing the sick, and he lived to great
age.
"Kyi! So ends my story."
_July 25._
Yesterday Guardipe, or, as I prefer to call him, Aí-is-an-ah-mak-an
(Takes-Gun-Ahead), climbed with me to the top of White Calf Mountain.
There, on the extreme summit of the rough crested mountain, we came
upon five bighorn, all ewes, and not one of them with a lamb beside
her. During the lambing season here this year there was a continuous
downpour of rain and sleet and snow, in which the newborn young
undoubtedly perished.
But how tame those five ewes were! We walked to within fifty yards of
them, and they gazed at us curiously, now and then nervously stamping
the rock with one or the other of their fore feet. And then they
circled around us, twice, and finally walked off toward the eastern
point of the mountain, often stopping to look back at us, and finally
disappeared behind some rock piles.
At the same time Kut´-ai-ko-pak-i (No-Coward-Woman--as my people have
named my wife) was having her own experience with the game in this
Park. With Miss L----, a Boston friend, she was sitting near the edge
of a high, almost cutbank at the edge of the river, when she heard the
slow, heavy, twig-snapping tread of an animal back in the brush. She
gave her friend a nudge, and pointed in the direction of the sounds,
and the two watched and listened. And presently they saw the brush
shaking as the animal forced its way through it, and then, half
revealed and half concealed in more open brush, they saw a big grizzly
coming straight toward them! Right near where they sat a dwarf juniper
grew at the edge of the high bank, several of its limbs overhanging
it. Without speaking a word, and trembling as though they had ague,
they crept to the tree, grasped one of the limbs, and tenaciously
gripping it let themselves down over the edge of the bank. And
then--the limb broke with a loud snap and down they went along the
gravelly incline, so steep that they could get no foothold, over and
over, head first, feet first, and sideways, and landed in the river
with a loud splash. But they did not mind that: what were bruises and
a wetting compared to being mauled by a grizzly? They forded the
waist-deep stream and arrived dripping but safe in camp, and were
glad to be there!
Although this Glacier National Park is only five years old, the game
animals within it have already become very tame. The bighorn and the
Rocky Mountain goats no longer flee from parties traversing the
mountain trails, and the deer and elk and moose have become almost as
fearless as they are. As for the bears, they are continually trying to
break into the meat-houses of the different camps. Undoubtedly these
mountains and forests within the next ten years will fairly be alive
with game. And as to trout, the supply is increasing instead of
decreasing. In this Cutbank stream alone there have been caught this
season in the neighborhood of two thousand trout, weighing from a
fourth of a pound up to four pounds, but since the 1st of April
seventy thousand young trout, from the Anaconda hatchery, have been
put into it.
[Illustration: CUTBANK RIVER. A GOOD TROUT RIFFLE]
_July 27._
Last night, in Black Bull's lodge, we had more tales of the long ago
in this Cutbank Valley. Would that I had the time to collect all the
Blackfeet legends of the various places in their once enormous
domain. From the Saskatchewan to the Yellowstone, and from the Rockies
between these two streams, eastward for about three hundred miles,
there are tales of adventure, of camp-life, and wonderful legends, for
every mountain, stream, butte, and spring within that great area. Said
Black Bull last night:--
"I will tell you a story that my grandfather told me. It happened in
the days of his fathers' boyhood, and it is called
"THE STORY OF THE BAD WIFE
"One summer in that time the people, having made new lodges, moved up
here on Cutbank River to cut new lodge poles, and to gather
weasel-eyes,[6] which grew in great quantities back on the high
mountain slopes.
[6] Ap-ah a-wap-spi. Weasel-eyes: huckleberries.
"At that time one of the best-liked young men of the tribe was Falling
Bear. He was a very brave and successful warrior, and very kind-hearted:
he took it upon himself to keep three or four old widows and several
old and helpless men supplied with all the meat and skins they could
use, and even gave them gentle horses for packing and riding whenever
camp was moved. At the time the people moved up here on Cutbank, he had
been married but a short time. He had fallen in love with Otter Woman,
the most beautiful girl in the tribe, and with her father's and mother's
consent, and to their great joy and pride, had set up with her a lodge
of his own. No word had been so much as whispered against Otter Woman;
she was believed to be as good and pure as she was beautiful of face and
form.
"The tribe had not been here many days when Falling Bear decided to go
to war. Many of the warriors, some of them much older than he, wanted
to go with him, but he told them all that this time, because of a
dream, a vision he had, he would take no one but his woman. He made
full preparation for the war trail, had a sacred sweat with an old
medicine man, who was to pray for him during his absence, and then,
with his woman, he took the Cutbank trail for the country of the West
Side tribes, all of them enemies of the Blackfeet.
"Traveling with great caution, and only at night, he passed through the
country of the Flatheads, and came to the plains country of the Nez
Percés. There he struck the trail of a big hunting party of people, and
followed it, and soon found that he was gaining upon them; one early
morning he came upon their camping-place which they must have left on
the previous afternoon, for in some of the fireplaces there were still
live coals deep down in the ashes.
"Now, on the night before he had lost his tobacco, and his desire to
smoke was strong within him. So he said to his woman, 'You go around
on that side of the big camping-place and examine every lodge site for
tobacco leavings, and I will search this side for it.' They parted and
began their quest.
"The camp had been pitched partly in an open, grassy park, and partly in
the timber surrounding it; and because of that Falling Bear and his
woman were often out of sight of each other. At one of these times Otter
Woman was examining a lodge site and fireplace back in the timber, and,
happening to look off to one side, she saw hanging on some brush a fine
shield, some beautiful war clothes, and a large fringed and painted
medicine pouch. She well knew that these had been spread out to sun by
the campers and forgotten, and that some one would be coming back for
them, and was about to go after Falling Bear to come and take them when
she heard the tread of an approaching horse. So near was it that she had
not time to run and hide. She stood still, staring, and almost at once
there came in sight, on a black-and-white pinto horse, the handsomest
young man that she had ever seen. He was so handsome that to look at him
gave her a yearning pain in the heart for him. Just one look, and she
had fallen in love with him! She didn't want to fall in love with him;
she just couldn't help it!
"He, this Nez Percé, checked up his horse and sat quiet, staring down
at her, and no doubt thought her the handsomest woman he had ever
seen. Suddenly she began making signs to him. What a wonderful thing
that silent language is! All the tribes of the plains know it. Just by
the use of their hands they can express their every thought to one
another.
"Signed she: 'My man is over there! Be quiet. I will go to him, somehow
get his weapons from him, then hold him. You come quickly when I cry
out, and kill him, and I will go with you; will be your woman.'
"Of course, nothing could have pleased the Nez Percé more than that.
To kill an enemy and take his beautiful woman, what a big _coup_ that
would be! He signed to the woman that what she proposed was good, and
slid from his horse and tied it to a tree, then signed to her to go,
and he would follow, keeping out of sight.
"The woman crossed the big camping-ground and found her man: 'I have
made a great find,' she told him. 'On some bushes over there are
hanging beautiful war clothes, a shield, weapons, and a medicine
pouch. Leave you your weapons and things here, and come with me, and
take them.'
"'But why should I leave my weapons? One should never be without
them,' he objected.
"'Because from here goes the trail we are to follow, and you will have
all you can do to bring here what I have found,' she explained.
"He didn't see any sense in leaving his weapons, but took her word and
laid them down, along with his medicine pouch, and his war clothes in
their _parflèche_ (painted cylinder), and followed her out into the
open park. 'The things are right across there in the brush,' she told
him, pointing to the place, and then gradually dropped back to his
side, and then a step behind him. Then, as they came near the brush on
the far side, she suddenly seized him, endeavoring to squeeze his arms
close to his side, so that he could not use them, and at the same time
she called out to the Nez Percé to come to her assistance. He had been
watching, and was already coming as fast as he could run.
"Falling Bear, of course, saw at once the intentions of the two, and
as quick as a flash of lightning made up his mind what to do. He only
half struggled with the woman, now grasping his neck with one hand and
arm, and beating his eyes and face with the other hand. She was fast
blinding him, but he stood the pain of it until the Nez Percé, with
war club raised, was but a step or two away. He then broke loose from
the woman, kicked backward, his foot striking her in the stomach and
knocking her over, and then he sprang at the Nez Percé, seized the arm
and hand that held the war club high, and struggled with the man for
possession of it. He wrenched it away from him, and with it struck him
a hard blow on the head, and he fell, his skull crushed in, and died.
The victor scalped him with his own knife, took his war club and his
bow and arrows, and then turned to the woman.
"She lay where she had fallen, trembling at what she had done, wishing
that she had not done it. 'Get up. If you spoke truth, if there are
war clothes and other things over there, lead me to them,' Falling
Bear told her.
"She arose, still trembling, but now with some hope that he was not
going to kill her, and led him to the place. His eyes were swelling shut
so fast that one was entirely closed, but he could partly use the other.
He looked at the things there on the brush: 'Ah! Here are the war
clothes, the shield, the medicine pouch, but where are the weapons?'
he asked.
"The woman did not answer. What could she say? There had been no
weapons left on the brush. Falling Bear laughed a laugh that made her
shiver, and told her to gather up all that was there and follow him.
He unfastened the horse and led it across the camping-place, she
following, and he had her take up his own weapons and things and
fasten them to the saddle. He then mounted the horse, and told her to
lead it and take the back trail home. Before he had ridden far his
other eye closed; he was, for the time, wholly blind; but not afraid.
He kept close possession of all the weapons, and made the woman do
everything that he wanted done. She minded his every word.
"Traveling again at night, and hiding in the brush during the daytime,
the two passed safely through the country of the Flatheads, and crossed
the mountains. On the morning that they approached the camp here on
Cutbank, Falling Bear had partly recovered the use of one eye. The other
was still swollen shut; it seemed to have been poisoned by the woman's
fingernails.
"When so near the camp that they could plainly see the lodges, Falling
Bear told the woman to go on in and tell her relatives to come to him;
that he would await them right where he was. They soon came out to
him, his father-in-law and his brother-in-law, and when they saw his
scarred face and swollen eyes, they cried out: 'Oh, what has happened
to you? Have you been in a fight with a mountain lion?'
"'Worse than that,' he answered; 'this was done to me by the one I
most loved and trusted.' And then he told them all about it, and
concluded by giving them the horse and all the things that he had
taken from the Nez Percé.
"When he finished his awful tale the two men, listening closely, were
so overcome with shame and grief that for a time they could not speak.
But at last Falling Bear's father-in-law said: 'I have made up my mind
what to do. Come! Let us go on into camp.'
"They went in; Falling Bear to his own lodge--in which his father and
mother lived. His woman was not there; she had gone to her father's
lodge. He was glad that she had gone there; he never wanted to see her
again. His father asked him to give the story of his war trail, and he
answered that he had nothing to say. He was so sick at heart that he
could not talk.
"Arrived in his own lodge, and finding his daughter, Otter Woman,
there, Falling Bear's father-in-law told her to go out for a time; and
when she was gone he told her mother all that she had done, and then,
calling in their son, the three agreed upon the way the bad wife
should be punished. They called her in and told her to braid her hair
nicely, and to put on her best clothes. And while she was doing that,
her father and mother and brother painted their faces black and let
down their hair.
"As soon as Otter Woman was dressed, her father said to her: 'We will
now go outside, and you will mount the Nez Percé horse. I will lead
it, your mother and brother will follow, and we will go all through
the camp, stopping here and there to tell the people all about the
great wrong you did your man.'
"'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."
* * * * *