THE WOLF-BROTHERS
There were several minutes of silence in the crowded teepee after
Tawannears had finished his story.
"Tawannears has made strong the heart of Nadoweiswe," said the old
Teton chief at last. "Nadoweiswe will tell the tale of Tawannears'
search to all his young men so that their hearts may be made strong,
too. If Nadoweiswe were a young warrior he would offer to go on with
Tawannears and his white brothers and look for this strange Land of
Lost Souls. But Nadoweiswe is an old man, and he is used to riding
on horses; and horses could not climb the Sky Mountains which shut in
the sun's hiding-place."
He lifted his pipe of ceremony from the ground at his feet and
lighted it with a coal plucked from the fire.
"Can Nadoweiswe tell us about the land across the Sky Mountains?"
asked Tawannears.
The little chief dropped his wrinkled, dried-apple visage on his
chest.
"No," he answered, after another interval of reflection. "The
stories of our wise men say nothing about this Land you seek. But my
father was a medicine man, a _wakan witshasha_.* He was very wise.
He had traveled farther than any of our people--although not so far
as Tawannears. And he told us the tribes beyond the Sky Mountains
said that the Great Spirit lived not far away. He sits in a certain
place on the earth, very white and still, with his head in the
clouds. And sometimes when he is angry he hurls forth storms, and
smoke and flame and loud noises fill the air. But these people never
spoke of a Land of Lost Souls."
* Literally, mystery man.
"Yet if the Great Spirit sits there, the Land of Lost Souls cannot be
far away," exclaimed Tawannears, with more animation than he had yet
shown. "Nadoweiswe has put new courage in our hearts. Now, we can
go forward, without fear."
Nadoweiswe shook his head.
"Do not go," he urged. "See, the fire roars here in the midst of us,
but without robes we should be cold. Any day, perhaps today, the
snow will fall. The land will all be white. Death will be in the
wind."
"Nadoweiswe has given us the reason why we must leave his tepee,"
replied Tawannears. "We have far to go. Already we have lost time.
If we stayed by the Teton fires the Winter would pass away and we
should have achieved nothing."
"We might steal many horses," argued Nadoweiswe, with a shrewd glance
at me. "We will march south and raid the Spanish tribes. There is
much to be done in winter."
Tawannears smiled.
"If we can steal horses in Winter, surely we can travel west," he
said. "It will be as cold going south as going toward the Sky
Mountains."
"But Tawannears does not understand that the Sky Mountains contain
more dangers than cold," returned the Teton chief. "The spirit
beasts of the Underworld roam their defiles. They are the
dwelling-place of the Powers of Evil."
"Tawannears doubts it not," agreed our comrade. "But we expected
such perils before we left the Long House. Tawannears and his white
brothers will journey through the country of Hanegoategeh, if need
be."
Nadoweiswe tried again.
"Stay, and you shall have half the horses we steal," he offered, "and
in the Spring I will go west with you, I and my young men."
"It cannot be," said Tawannears. "Our hearts will be sore at parting
with Nadoweiswe and Chatanskah and all their people. But we must go."
The Teton gave it up.
"Tawannears and his white brothers walk to their deaths," he said
sententiously. "The spirit beasts will devour them. _Hai_, it is a
pity! But we will tell your story in the Winter Count. You shall be
remembered."
And 'tis a fact that the old chief parted from us in the morning with
as sincere evidence of regret as an Indian could show. He pressed
upon us all the dried meat we could carry, together with three pairs
of snowshoes and a new and more powerful bow and quiver of arrows for
Tawannears to use in hunting game, thus making it possible for us to
save our precious store of ammunition for self-defense; and he and
all his warriors escorted us to the edge of the village. Nor must I
leave out Chatanskah and our Wahpeton friends, whose demonstrations
of affection were equally touching--if for no other reason than
because of their stoical suppression of all signs of emotion.
But our last farewell we received after we had left the village and
were skirting the horse-herds grazing west along! the river-bank. I
heard a whinny of delight, and Sunkawakan-kedeshka, the mottled
stallion, came trotting toward us with his attendant band of mares.
He stopped some distance off, with a neigh of inquiry, as if to
demand why I would not stop and play with him. I thought for an
instant he would follow us, and so pretended to ignore him; but when
we had gone on for perhaps a mile and reached the crest of a slight
ridge he evidently lost interest and trotted back to the herd. The
incident amused me, although I saw in it no significance and it
slipped my mind completely as Tawannears pointed to the cold, gray
aspect of the northern sky.
"Somewhere there is snow," he commented.
"_Ja_," assented Corlaer. "Andt der wind comes this way."
The flakes commenced to fall during the afternoon, but we were on the
edge of the storm and they were never thick enough to obscure our
vision. At night we contrived a shelter of brushwood, and lay fairly
warm beneath our buffalo robes. Yet we knew that in a severe storm
we should require more protection, and in the morning were relieved
to discover the snow was no more than three inches deep with the sky
above us a clear blue.
Two days afterward the belated Winter broke in earnest. A wind like
a giant's sickle howled out of the northwest, and the snow reared a
dense, white, fluttering wall a hand's-breadth from our eyes. It was
all a man could do to lean against the blast and keep his footing. A
yard apart we were lost from each other. Our voices might not carry
through the soft, bewildering thickness of it and the shrieking of
the wind overhead.
Ill-fortune had caught us in a bare valley between two hills, and the
nearest shelter we marked down before the snow blinded us was a clump
of timber a mile south. For this we made as best we could, stumbling
and falling, never sure of the way, the breath torn from our lungs by
the tug of the gale, the snow freezing on us as it fell, our faces
smarting from the bite of the sheer cold.
I think 'twas Corlaer's giant strength carried us to safety. He
strode betwixt Tawannears and me, and when one of us faltered, his
arm was swift to lend support. In his quiet, bull-headed way, too,
he found the right direction, despite the dazing isolation, the
stupefying impact of the storm. He saw to it that we quartered the
wind, and steered us straight to the very wood we had aimed for as
the snow blotted out our surroundings.
Here in the wood it was just as cold and dark as in the open, and the
snow sifted through the branches like the moulting feathers of bird
flocks incredibly vaster than those that had passed over the Ohio;
but the trees at least served to break somewhat the force of the
wind, and we had the added comfort of work to do, for we knew that we
could ward off the death foretold by Nadoweiswe only if we hastened
to improvise a weather-tight habitation--no easy task in the white
darkness and the chill that seemed to strike into the brain.
In the heart of the wood we came upon an immense bowlder, and with
our hatchets we felled a number of trees so that they toppled across
it. They were firs, heavy with foliage, a dense, impervious roof.
We also felled saplings to heap up for end-walls, and fetched in many
arm-loads of pine-boughs for bedding and fire-wood. As we worked our
blood flowed faster, and we conquered the numbing force of the storm.
And the snow, steadily floating down, improved our handiwork, heaping
an extra roof and more substantial walls to shut out the cold. When
we had crawled inside, and by skillful use of a few pinches of
gunpowder induced the beginnings of a small blaze out of damp wood we
felt cheerful again. A meal of jerked meat and a night's rest under
pine-boughs and buffalo-robes, and we were ready to discount the
continued fury of the storm upon awaking.
Three days it snowed. The first two days there was no diminution in
the storm's vigor, but the third day the wind became less violent,
although the snow fell uninterruptedly. It was on the third day that
we heard a far-off, mournful howling.
"_Wolfs_," commented Corlaer.
"What are they doing?" I asked. "Surely, in this distemper of
nature----"
"They are hunting," said Tawannears. "The deer and the buffalo
cannot run away in such weather."
The howling came nearer, died in the distance.
The morning of the fourth day we wakened to a world that was all a
clean, dazzling white, snow to the depth of a man's chest on the
level, ay, and higher, and heaped into drifts the size of young
mountains in the hollows. We in our hut were obliged to tunnel to
the surface, for the bowlder and our artificial structure had formed
a windbreak against which the snow was piled to twice my height. We
cut our way out gradually, taking care not to permit the treacherous
stuff to cave in upon us, fetched up our weapons and packs, donned
snowshoes and resumed our journey.
Snowshoeing is slow work in hilly country, but we made better going
of it than the unfortunate wild things we saw on every hand,
profiting by a thaw which gradually scummed the level drifts. In a
gulley a herd of buffalo were buried chest-deep, some of the outer
ones frozen solid, the others subsisting by their combined animal
heat. A herd of great deer--the bucks as tall at the shoulder as a
tall man--that Tawannears called Wapiti*--were plunging clumsily
through the crusted surface of the snow, falling forward on their
horns. In a tiny valley which had been unusually sheltered an
immense concourse of antelope threshed about, butting each other for
the scanty food available.
* Of course, Ormerod refers to the elk.--A.D.H.S.
We saw numerous bears, which Tawannears deemed strange, saying that
these beasts must have been surprised by the sudden advent of the
storm, after delaying to den-up, as is their custom, because of the
protracted fall. A cougar, a striped, cat-faced demon, passed us on
a hillside, belly to the snow, on the track of some quarry. And
during the afternoon we heard at frequent intervals the wailing cry
of the wolves. Toward dusk they came steadily nearer, and I grew
uneasy; but neither of my companions said anything, and I did not
like to seem more nervous than they. I held my peace until we were
traversing a level stretch of plain just short of sunset, and a
torrent of low-running gray shapes erupted over the skyline.
That indescribable, heart-shaking howl of the hungry wolf echoed
across the snow.
"Those beasts are tracking us," I exclaimed.
"They are wolves, brother," said Tawannears briefly.
"And they appear to know that we are eatable," I retorted.
"They will do us no hurt," he answered with a trace of impatience.
"There is abundant game for them to pull down on every side."
"Then why follow us?" I insisted.
"They come our way, brother. Why not! Who knows what end of the
Great Spirit they serve?"
"But--" I did not know what to say; occasionally Tawannears became
so Indian that I lost touch with him--"they are wolves. They have
nothing to do with the Great Spirit. They are hungry."
He looked at me somberly.
"I have that here they will respect--" he tapped his chest, where I
knew he carried the wolf's-head sign manual of his clan--"they are my
brothers."
"Brothers!" I gasped.
I was myself by adoption a member of the Wolf Clan, yet I had never
thought of wolves as brothers.
"_Ja_," corroborated Corlaer, joining the conversation for the first
time. "Der wolfs are broders. Why not?" He used Tawannears' own
words. "Do not worry, my friendt. They run our way. Dot is all."
But I did worry as the shadows lengthened. The piercing howls seemed
fairly to tremble with menace. I thought they were nearer at dusk
than they had been in the full glare of the sunset. Then the early
moon rose, and I saw the gray pursuers once more, low, sinister
shapes, galloping over the snow, their broad pads seldom breaking
through the crust--and I knew they were nearer.
"_Aaaah-yaaah-oooo-oouuu-wh!_"
Long-drawn-out, it quavered upward, was sustained and dropped off on
an eerie pitch of unspeakable import.
"I don't like this," I declared, unable to restrain myself.
"What would Otetiani do?" inquired Tawannears mildly.
"Shoot them. There seems to be no cover available."
He shook his head.
"Whatever else happens, brother, do not shoot."
"Are we to be dragged down out in the open, then, without raising a
hand in defense?" I asked sarcastically.
"No, brother. I have said that they will do no harm. We have far to
go yet. We cannot camp here in the open without wood or shelter.
Let us hurry."
I looked at Corlaer for support, but his attention was centered on
the pathless trail ahead of us, and I felt myself outvoted. There
was nothing for it but to keep on. Both these men I had known for
years. With them I had tracked the Eastern Wilderness. But never
had I known them so perverse as this night. What folly to nourish a
belief in an absurd totemic tradition! It was amazing. Corlaer was
a white man like myself. Tawannears might be red, but he was as well
educated as I, according to the white man's theory, better far than
Corlaer.
"_Oooow-woouuow-aarrrgh!_"
Louder and louder rose that cry of dreadful menace. The gray shapes
were now so many rustling bulks in the moonlit darkness. Looking
back I could see eyes that gleamed red or green as the silver light
caught them, fluffy brushes flicking high, the drive of powerful
shoulders and haunches. They were big brutes!
I stopped abruptly, and swung musket to shoulder. Before I could
pull trigger I heard the sucking fall of snowshoes behind me, and
Tawannears laid his hand on my arm.
"Of what avail, brother?" he asked gently. "If you shoot one, the
others will be driven mad by the smell of blood. They will overwhelm
you."
"Why don't you mention yourself?" I snarled.
"Heed me, and they will do us no hurt," he said, ignoring my thrust.
"They do not know. When they learn who we are, it will be different."
"Do you mean to tell me you will risk our lives on your ridiculous
heathen theory?" I demanded.
"I am trying to save all our lives, which, I fear, may be lost if you
persist, brother."
I flung the gun over my shoulder.
"Have it your way," I said sullenly. "It is on your head."
"On my head," he agreed.
"Rocks," grunted Corlaer in front of us.
I looked up eagerly. A few hundred yards away a cube of rock
projected from the snow dominating the country for miles, the one
break in the level of the high plateau.
"Good," said Tawannears. "We will talk to the brothers there.
Perhaps we can make a camp."
"_Ja_," assented Corlaer. "Andt trees."
His keen eyes had identified a scraggly patch of timber that
clustered around a cleft in the side of the rock-mass. The moon
shone on the snow-flecked, dark-green boughs of evergreens, but for
the most part it was little better than dried-up bushes and dwarf
growths. Yet such as it was it meant shelter and warmth again--if we
could shake off that stealthy procession of ghostly figures behind
us. They had quickened their pace as they sensed our approach to the
rock. The howls became frankly savage and lustful. Close at hand I
heard the snapping of frantic jaws.
"Don't run," urged Tawannears' voice in my ear. "The man on
snowshoes is at a disadvantage, brother. We have time."
Time, but no more. In that cold that was so severe as to make it
agony to touch fingers to steel I gained the mouth of the rock-cleft
with the sweat dribbling down my back. And it was not the sweat of
haste, but of fear. All around us the pattering of feet sounded like
the swishing of women's skirts in the lightly packed snow. A
half-circle of gray figures formed, red tongues lolling over flashing
white teeth, steam rising from five-score panting chests. Eyes
glinted like pricks of flame. They were silent--snapping at each
other, yawning, _grr-rr-rrhing!_ softly, but no more baying their
mournful challenge to the sky.
They waited. And we waited.
"If we build a fire----" I suggested in a whisper.
"Wait, brother," Tawannears replied. "They fear a fire."
I cursed impartially.
"Are you for saving _their_ lives?"
He stood in front of me, very erect, as Indian as old Nadoweiswe.
"Otetiani forgets that we are of the totem of the Wolf. Their--" he
gestured toward the gray half-circle--"emblem is on my chest. It is
forbidden to slay the totem-beast of your Clan."
"That may mean something to you, but certes, it little interests me,"
I said disagreeably.
"It means much to Otetiani." His voice was stern. "Did not Otetiani
become a member of the Wolf Clan? Will not what he does affect not
only himself, but his Clan brothers? Be wise. Stay your hand.
These gray brothers are curious and hungry, but they do not know us.
We will tell them, and they will go away."
I laughed shortly.
"Try!" I invited him. "My gun is loaded, and I propose to climb a
tree. It won't be comfortable, but I'll last as long as I can."
"Foolishness," remarked Corlaer dispassionately. "You watch
Tawannears. He knows."
"What?" I jeered.
"Der wolfs."
As if in acknowledgment of this remark, Tawannears handed his musket
to the Dutchman and opened his leather shirt across his chest. Then
he stepped forward three paces, and faced the half-circle of gray,
slavering shapes, with his arms flung wide.
"Brothers!" he began.
And I swear a whine as of interest rose from the half-circle.
"You are hungry. You have followed a scent that was different. You
have turned aside from the buffalo and the deer, the antelope and the
_wapiti_, to follow this different scent. For a long time you have
tracked us. You could have had meat for the taking, but you must
savor this new meat that smelled different."
Not a sound from the half-circle, except the rhythmic panting of
powerful lungs. The scores of eyes, so luminous, so impersonally
cruel, were riveted upon the orator.
Tawannears advanced another step. He might have been addressing the
Hoyarnagowar.
"You have been wrong, brothers. You knew not what you did. See!"
He stooped before them, stripping his chest to show the wolf's head
painted upon it.
"Tawannears is of the totem of the Wolf. These others with me are of
the totem of the Wolf. We are sworn to brotherhood with you. We may
not slay you nor eat your meat nor wear your fur. We are your
brothers."
A big, deep-chested beast threw back his head and sent out a mournful
howl. Others answered him.
"Go back, brothers," continued Tawannears. "If you touch us
Hawenneyu will punish you, just as he would punish us if we harmed
you. When there is free meat on the trail it is not for brothers to
hunt each other. You have done wrong, already; but you did not know.
Go back."
And he walked directly into their ranks, and set his open palm
against the chest of the wolf that had raised the first howl. And
the wolf bent his head and licked the hand that rested on his chest!
"Go, brothers," repeated Tawannears.
They were gone! I rubbed my eyes, and stared into the darkness.
Yes, there flitted a dull, gray shape. Snow crunched under their
pads. A click of teeth as one snapped at another. Then the
hunting-call of the leader, quavering toward the stars.
_Yap-yap-yap!_ in answer. Howl and counter-howl, yelps of discovery,
the quick, rasping bay announcing a fresh scent. Fainter--and
fainter----
I sunk my fingers in Corlaer's bulbous arm.
"What were they?"
I felt him shrug his shoulders.
"Wolfs."
"Real? Did I imagine that?"
"It may be they were spirit wolves, such as Nadoweiswe warned us of,"
said Tawannears at my other side, taking his musket from the
Dutchman's charge.
I could not see his face, but his voice was serious.
"You mock me," I answered.
"Why, brother? Who knows? We have passed beyond the world of men, I
think."
"You touched one, did you not?" I insisted.
He considered.
"True." He raised the hand to his nostrils, sniffed. "And it left
on me the rank wolf smell. Yes, they were no spirit beasts, brother,
but it does not matter. Spirit beasts or flesh and blood, they would
never have touched me."
"Why not?"
"Why did the wild horse walk up and suffer Otetiani to mount him?"
"Because I did not fear him or have thought to harm him."
"Otetiani speaks always with a straight tongue," said the Seneca
gravely. "There was no fear in my heart of the wolf brothers, nor
did I think of harming them."
"But a wolf is not a horse!" I protested.
"True. But he is our brother. Did not Otetiani see me show them the
Clan insignia on my chest?"
"My God!" I exclaimed. "One of us is mad!"
"_Oof_," remarked Corlaer, with his rare fluency. "Nobody is madt.
But der white man does not know eferything. Dot is all. Andt now we
make a goodt hut andt a fire--eh? It is coldt. _Ja_, I take this
tree."