some one moving on the shore. I was not hungry then, but I landed and
began to nibble a twig at the water's edge. Presently I saw a beautiful
young man coming toward me with a fine sapling in his mouth. I think I
never saw a nicer looking beaver man than Kamdoka! He, too, was so glad
to see me, and brought me the sapling to eat.
"We were soon so devoted and absorbed in each other that we forgot all
about our journey. Kamdoka proposed that we should never leave one
another, and I agreed. He at once built a rude house right under a high
bank, where a tree had fallen over the water and its roots still held
firm. On each side he planted double rows of sticks, and plastered the
whole with mud. The narrow door was concealed by the tree-trunk, and led
directly into the water. This was our first home. It was only for a few
days, for we soon discovered that we could not live there.
"There were still a few large cakes of ice going down the river, and on
these we continued our journey, until one night our ice broke up and we
were forced to swim. At last we came to a country which was just such as
we would like to live in, and a stream that seemed the very one we had
been dreaming about. It had good, firm banks, nice landings, and was
just small enough to dam if necessary. Kamdoka and I were very happy.
This stream the Red people call the Wakpaepakshan (Bend of the River).
"It was not long before the wild men came in great numbers to this
beautiful river, and they were worse than Igmu and the grizzly. With
their round iron with the iron strings they caught many of the beaver
neighbors. Sometimes they would come with their dogs and drive us out of
our houses with dry entrances; again, they would hide the round iron at
our coasting and diving places, so that they caught many of our people.
It is impossible to get away when one is bitten by one of these round
irons. It was this which forced us at last to leave this lovely spot.
"While we still lived upon this stream, it came about that Kamdoka was
called Hezee. His fine pair of wood-choppers had grown short and very
yellow--that is why he is called Hezee--Yellow Teeth. Hezee and I
forsook our home after our little Chapchincha was caught by the wild
men. Hezee's sharp eyes discovered one of these ugly irons on our
premises, and he reported it to me. I cautioned the children to be
careful, and for a time they were so, but one morning my baby, my little
Chapchincha, forgot, and, plunging blindly down from our landing, she
was seized! They took her away with them, and the very next night we
moved from that place.
"We found the mouth of this stream and followed it up. We selected many
pretty places, but they were all claimed by some of the older
inhabitants. Several times Hezee fought for the right to a home, and you
can see where he had an ear bitten off in one of these fights. We had no
peace until we came within sight of the Pipestone Quarry. To be sure,
there are many wild men here also, but they come in midsummer, when they
do not kill any beaver people. We simply keep close to our homes when
they are here, and they scarcely ever trouble us.
"Children, we have made many fine homes, Hezee and I. We both came from
beyond the Muddy Water--a very bad country. It is the country of
coyotes, bears, bighorns, and the like. This is a country for our
people. If any of you should be dissatisfied, or driven to leave your
home, do not go beyond the Muddy Water. Always take one of the large
streams, going to the south and the sunrise of the great river.
"You see my fingers getting stubby and nailless. Hezee's wood-choppers
are no longer sharp. His long mustache is gray now. We are getting old.
But we have lived happily, Hezee and I. We have raised many beaver
people. We shall hope never to go away from this place.
"Children, be true to the customs of your people. Always have good
homes. First of all, you must build a strong dam--then you will have
deep water. You must have both underground homes and adobes. Have plenty
of store-houses, well filled; and when the enemy comes to kill you, you
can hold out for many days."
These were the old beaver woman's words to her young people. "Ho, ho!"
they applauded her when she had done.
"You must learn all these things," said old Hezee, after his wife had
done. "Always gnaw your tree more on the side toward the stream, so that
it will fall over the water. You should cut down the trees on the very
edge of the bank. Dive to the bottom and under the bank as the tree
falls. Sometimes one of us is pinned down by a branch of a fallen tree
and dies there. I myself have seen this. The water is the safest place.
You must never go too far away from deep water."
Up and down Pipestone Creek for four or five miles spread the community
formed by Chapawee's and Hezee's descendants. There was not any large
timber, only a few scattered trees here and there, yet in most places
there was plenty of food, for the river people do not depend entirely
upon the bark of trees for their sustenance. No village was kept in
better order than this one, for it was the wisdom of Chapawee and Hezee
that made it so. Summer nights, the series of ponds was alive with their
young folks in play and practice of the lessons in which the old pair
had such a pride. Their stream overflowed with the purest of spring
water. No fish were allowed to pollute their playgrounds. The river
people do not eat fish, but no fish are found in their neighborhoods. If
Mr. and Mrs. Otter, with their five or six roguish children,
occasionally intruded upon their domain, the men of the tribe politely
requested them to go elsewhere. So for a long time they held sway on the
Pipestone Creek, and the little beaver children dove and swam
undisturbed for many summers.
But Chapawee and Hezee were now very old. They occupied a pond to
themselves. Both were half blind and toothless, but there were certain
large weeds which were plentiful and afforded them delicious food. They
remained in-doors a great deal of the time.
* * * * *
"Ho, koda!" was the greeting of two Indian men who appeared one day at
the door of the old American Fur Company's store upon the Sioux
reservation in Minnesota.
"How, Red Blanket! How, One Feather!" was the reply of the trader.
"Isn't it about time for you people to start in on your fall trapping?"
"Yes, that is what we came for. We want traps, ammunition, and two
spades on account. We have learned from the prairie Indians that the Big
Sioux and its tributaries are full of beaver, otter, mink, and
musk-rats. We shall go into that region for two months' hunting," said
Red Blanket, speaking for the two. Both men were experienced trappers.
"We must strike the Pipestone Quarry and then follow down that stream to
its mouth," remarked One Feather to his friend, after they had returned
to camp with a load of goods that they had secured on credit, and had
cut up some of the tobacco for smoking.
A few days later two solitary teepees stood on the shore of the pond,
under the red cliffs of the Pipestone Quarry.
Red Blanket had gone down the stream to examine the signs. Toward
evening, he came in with a large beaver on his shoulder.
"Koda, the stream is alive with beaver! I saw all of their dams and
their houses, and many were out swimming without fear. They have not
been disturbed in many years."
Soon both hunters emerged from their teepees heavily laden with traps,
each man accompanied by his intelligent dog. They saw many fresh tracks
of the inhabitants as they approached the beaver village. Their houses
above ground were large and numerous, and their underground homes were
as many, but the entrances were concealed by the water. The slides were
still wet with recent plays.
"It is the home of their great chief," said Red Blanket, impressively.
"Friend, let us sit down and offer the pipe! We must smoke to the beaver
chief's spirit, that he may not cast an evil charm upon our hunting."
Both men sat down upon their crossed feet in the tall meadow-grass to
carry out the familiar suggestion. One Feather pulled the leather
tobacco-pouch from his hunting-belt, and filled the pipe. He held the
mouth-piece to the four corners of the earth before handing it to his
companion. As they smoked, their faces were serious, and expressed the
full dignity and importance they had given to their intended massacre of
a harmless and wise people.
"Let us go down a little way," said One Feather, finally. "I want to see
how far the dams extend, and if it is only one family or many."
When they reached the second dam, the pond contained very little sign of
beaver. There were landing and feeding places, but apparently they were
not much used. The water was very deep and clear. Beyond this pond were
many fresh signs again. This raised a new question in the minds of the
Red hunters. On the way back again, they stopped on the shore of this
pond and smoked again, while they discussed why there was not much life
there, when there was such fine, deep, clear water, and the dams in such
perfect condition.
"It may be a haunted pond," said One Feather.
"It is certain that some strange thing lives in this deep water," added
Red Blanket, with gravity. They were fully concealed by the tall grass,
and their dogs lay quietly at their sides.
"Look, my friend, it is he!" exclaimed One Feather, suddenly. They
quickly faced about to behold an animal scramble up the steep bank. Both
of his ears were entirely gone. The hair of his head and face was quite
gray, including the few coarse whiskers that the beaver people wear. It
looked very like the unshaven face of an old man. The hair of his body
was short and rough--the silky, reddish coat was gone.
"It is an old, old beaver," whispered One Feather. "Ah, he is the
grandfather of the village! I see now why this pond is not much used by
the young folks. The old people live here."
He was apparently half blind and hard of hearing, as they had made
enough noise to attract Hezee's attention, but he did not move. Soon
Chapawee came up slowly and sat beside her old man. As the two sat
there, upright, sunning themselves, there came from a distance an
undertone call. Then a large female beaver glided up the stream, bearing
in her mouth the fine, branchy bough of a tree, which she must have gone
some miles to get. She approached the old pair, and kindly set the
branch before them. While they greedily nibbled at it, the young woman
quietly disappeared.
"These are people much like us. Surely they build much warmer houses
than we do," said Red Blanket, laughing.
"Yes, they are a wonderful people," replied his friend, with a serious
face. "This is the grandmother's pond. We shall respect it to-morrow,"
he continued. "We shall open the other dams and drain the water off,
then the entrances will all be dry and our dogs will enter their homes
and drive them out. When they come out, we shall spear them." This was
the plan of One Feather, to which his companion assented.
It was a sad day for the river people. Presently the two slayers came to
the pond of Hezee and Chapawee, where they lay nestled together in their
old, warm bed.
"I would like to leave the two old people alone," said One Feather. "But
we cannot get at the upper ponds without draining this one." So it was
decided to break down both of their dams. When the entrance to their
house was exposed, the dogs rushed in and were beginning to bark, but
One Feather called them back.
The work was accomplished, but it had taken two days. It was a sad
massacre!
"We must repair the dam for the old folks before we go, and I have left
four young ones alive, so that they can help feed them. I do not want
their spirits to follow us," said One Feather. So on the very next
morning the two hunters came back to the middle pond. Red Blanket with
his dog was a little in advance.
"Come here, friend!" he called. There Hezee and Chapawee lay cold and
stiff in the open.
They had gone out in the dark to rebuild their dam, according to the
habit of a long life. Then they visited some of their children's homes
for aid, but all were silent and in ruins. Again they came back to work,
but it was all in vain. They were too old; their strength had left them;
and who would care in such a case to survive the ruins of his house?
The Challenge
The medicine-drum was struck with slow, monotonous beat--that sound
which always comes forth from the council-lodge with an impressive air
of authority. Upon this particular occasion it was merely a signal to
open the ears of the people. It was the prelude to an announcement of
the day's programme, including the names of those warriors who had been
chosen to supply the governing body with food and tobacco during that
day. These names were presently announced in a sing-song or chanting
call which penetrated to the outskirts of the Indian village.
Just as Tawahinkpayota, or Many Arrows, was cutting up a large plug of
black tobacco--for he was about to invite several intimate friends to
his lodge--"Tawahinkpayota, anpaytu lay woyutay watinkta mechecha, uyay
yo-o-o!" the sonorous call, came for the second time. He stepped outside
and held up an eagle feather tied to a staff. This was his answer, and
signified his willingness to perform the service.
Having cut a sufficient quantity of tobacco, Many Arrows asked his wife
to call at the home of each of the famous hunters whom he intended to
honor, for it is the loved wife who has this privilege. Flying Bee was
the first invited; then Black Hawk, Antler, and Charging Bear. The lodge
of Many Arrows was soon the liveliest quarter of the Big Cat
village--for this particular band of Sioux was known as the Big Cat
band. All came to the host's great buffalo-skin teepee, from the top of
which was flying a horse's tail trimmed with an eagle feather, to denote
the home of a man of distinction.
"Ho, kola," greeted the host from his seat of dignified welcome. "Ho,"
replied each guest as he gracefully opened the door-flap. Inside of the
spacious teepee were spread for seats the choicest robes of bear, elk,
and bison. Mrs. Tawahinkpayota, who wished to do honor to her husband's
guests, had dressed for the occasion. Her jet-black hair was smoothly
combed and arranged in two long plaits over her shoulders. Her face was
becomingly painted, and her superb garment, of richly embroidered
doeskin completed a picture of prosperous matronhood.
While her husband offered the guests a short round of whiffs from the
pipe of peace, she went quietly about her preparations for the repast,
and presently served each in turn with the choicest delicacies their
lodge afforded. When all with due deliberation had ended their meal, the
host made his expected speech--for it was not without intention that he
had brought these noted men together.
"Friends," said he "a thought has come to me strongly. I will open my
mind to you. We should go to Upanokootay to shoot elk, deer, and
antelope. We have been long upon the prairie, killing only buffalo. We
need fine buckskin for garments of ceremony. We want also the skins of
bears for robes suitable to a warrior's home, such as the home of each
one of you. And then, you know, we must please our women, who greatly
desire the elk's teeth for ornament, and for fine needle-work the quills
of the porcupine."
"Ho, ho!" they replied, in chorus.
"It is always well," resumed Many Arrows, "for great hunters to go out
in company. For this reason I have called you three together. Is it not
true that Upanokootay, Elk Point, is the place we should seek?"
Again they all assented. So it came about that the five hunters and
their wives, who must cure and dress the skins of the game, departed
from the large camp upon the Big Sioux River and journeyed southward
toward the favored hunting-ground.
It was near the close of the moon of black cherries, when elk and
antelope roam in great herds, and the bears are happiest, because it is
their feasting-time. There was to be a friendly contest in the hunting.
All agreed to use no weapon save the bow and arrows, although the
"mysterious iron" and gunpowder had already been introduced.
Furthermore, they agreed that no pony should be used in running down the
game. Thus the rules which should govern the character of the hunt were
all determined upon in advance, and the natural rivalry between the
hunters was to be displayed in a fair and open trial of skill and
endurance. It was well known that these five were all tried and mighty
men beyond most of their fellows. This does not mean that they were
large men; on the contrary, none was much above the medium height, but
they were exceptionally symmetrical and deep-chested.
On the second morning, the men scattered as usual, after selecting a
camping-ground at which all would meet later in the day. Each hunter was
attired in his lightest buckskin leggings and a good running pair of
moccasins, while only a quiver with the arrows and bows swung over his
stalwart shoulders. All set out apparently in different directions, but
they nevertheless kept a close watch upon one another, for the chief
occasion of an Indian's mirth is his friend's mistakes or mishaps in the
chase.
Flying Bee hastened along the upper ridges overlooking the plain. What!
a great herd of elk grazing not far away! It was needful to get as close
to them as possible in order to make a successful chase. He threw off
all superfluous garments, tossed his quiver to one side, and took three
arrows with the bow in his hand. He then crept up a ravine until he came
within a short distance of the herd. As he cautiously raised his head
for a survey, he saw a jack-rabbit's long ears a little way off, while a
yearling antelope showed itself above the long grass to the left.
"Ugh, you may fool the elk, but you can't fool me!" he remarked as he
smiled to himself.
Again, on the farther side, a fawn's head was turned in the direction of
the herd.
"Ho, ho!" chuckled Flying Bee. "Where is the other?"
Just then, at his right, a little buffalo calf's head was pushed
cautiously above a bunch of grass.
"Ugh, you are all here, are you? Then I will show you how to chase the
elk."
He pulled a large bunch-weed and held it in front of him so that the elk
could not see him for a moment. Then he ran forward rapidly under cover
of the weed.
He had scarcely done this when Charging Bear emerged from the direction
of the fawn display. Tawahinkpayota came forth from the antelope head,
while Black Hawk and Antler rose up where the jack-rabbit and calf had
lain. Bee disappeared in the midst of the fleeing herd, as he was a
runner of exceptional swiftness. The great herd departed in a thunder of
hoofs, and the five friends paused to smoke together and exchange jokes
before going to examine their game. Black Hawk, whose quarry had gone
with the rest, carrying his arrows, was greatly disappointed, and he
immediately became a butt for the wit and ridicule of the others.
"How is this, friend? Have the elk such a fear of the harmless
jack-rabbit? It seems that they did not give you a chance to make your
swift arrows count."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Tawahinkpayota. "The elk people never knew before
that a rabbit would venture to give them chase."
"Ah, but he has often been seen to run after elk, deer, and even buffalo
to save his own scalp from the wolves when he is pursued!" Thus Charging
Bear came to the rescue of his friend.
And so they joked while Antler filled the pipe.
"We must take only one or two short whiffs," he reminded them, as he
crowded down the mixture of tobacco and willow bark into the red bowl.
It was the time of hunting and running, when men do not smoke much, and
the young men not at all.
Having finished their smoke, they arose and followed the trail of the
elk. The animal shot by Flying Bee lay dead not far away, with an arrow
sticking out of the opposite side of its body, for he was a powerful
man. Soon they came to two does lying dead, but there were no arrows,
and the wounds were not arrow wounds.
"Ho, kola, hun-hun-hay! Surely you could not use your knife while
running bow in hand?" remarked Black Hawk.
"We shall make it a rule hereafter that no one shall use any strange or
unusual weapon," added Many Arrows, jestingly.
"You see now how a Bee can sting!" chimed in Charging Bear, in much
mirth and admiration for the feat of his friend.
This, or something not unlike it, was now their daily experience, while
their wives busily dressed the skins of their game and cured such of the
meat as they cared to save. Each man kept a mental record of his shots
for future reference, and all bore with unfailing good-humor the kindly
ridicule of their fellows. They often hunted singly, yet the tendency
was to be on the lookout for one another as well as for themselves,
knowing that they were always in more or less peril from ferocious
animals, as well as from the enemies of their people. They would also
send out one of their number from time to time to scout the ground over
which they expected to hunt on the following day.
"Ho, koowah yay yo, kola!" was the cry of Black Hawk, one evening,
inviting his companion hunters to feast at his lodge. He had been
appointed to scout the field south of their camp, and, having explored
the country thoroughly, was ready to make his report.
"The land south of us, along the river," said he, "is well peopled with
elk, deer, and beaver, and the prairie adjoining is full of buffalo. As
far as the eye can see, their herds are countless. But, friends," he
added, "there are also bears in this region. I have seen them, and I saw
many of their fresh tracks."
Black Hawk was a clever scout, and could imitate both the actions and
call of any animal so as almost to deceive his fellow-hunters. He had
covered considerable ground that afternoon.
"There is, however, no recent sign of any of our enemies, and the game
is better than in any year that I have come here," he said again.
"Ho, ho, ho!" was the chorus of thanks from the others.
"Flying Bee, you have hunted in this region longer than the rest of us.
Tell us of the wisdom of other years," suggested one.
"Ho, kola, hechetu!" again came the approving chorus.
The feast was eaten, the pipe was laid aside, and Flying Bee began thus:
"It was in the same year that the great battle was fought between the
Omahas and the Yankton Sioux, under this high ridge. We were hunting
upon the other side, and I saw then as many elk and deer as there are
now. I was a young man and had just begun to know the ways of the elk
and his weaknesses.
"You must never allow him to get your scent, but you can let him see
you, provided he does not understand. If he thinks you are some other
animal, he will not trouble to move away, but if you make him curious
he will come to you. If you put on a brown suit and appear and disappear
in the edge of the woods at evening or early morning, the doe will
approach you curiously. In the spring moons you can deceive her with the
doe-caller, and a little later than this you can deceive her with the
call of the buck elk.
"If you have a 'mysterious iron' you can shoot down any number of them.
A woman or a white man could do as much. Also, if you have a swift pony
you can run down almost any game. This is no true test of skill. Do as
we are doing now--hunt on foot with only the bow and arrow or the knife
and stone for weapons, for these were the weapons of our people for
untold years.
"There are no finer animals than the elk folk. I have studied their
ways, because, as you know, we have followed their customs in courtship
and warfare as much as those of any nation. Doubtless all our manners
and customs were first copied from the ways of the best animal people,"
added the speaker.
"Ho, kola, hechetu!" was the unanimous endorsement of his friends.
"From now on the great elk chieftain gathers his herd. The smaller herds
are kept by smaller chiefs, and there are many duels. I say again, no
duel is brave and honest as that of the elk. When the challenge comes,
it means a death-notice and must be accepted. The elk is no coward; he
never refuses, although he knows that one at least must die in the
fight.
"The elk woman, too, is the most truly coquettish of all animals. She is
pretty and graceful, but she is ready to elope with the first suitor.
Therefore, we call the young man who is especially successful in
courtship the elk young man. The girlish and coquettish young woman we
call the elk maiden.