SINOPAH'S ESCAPE FROM THE BUFFALO
That evening the chiefs of the tribe held a council and decided to move
camp from the Marias River, where they then were, out to the Sweet-Grass
Hills. These are three lone buttes about one hundred miles east of the
main range of the Rocky Mountains, and right on the line separating
Montana and the Canadian province of Alberta. There were then, however,
no monuments to mark the boundary of the two countries. The line had not
yet been surveyed. When the Blackfeet were told that the Americans--Long
Knives--owned the country to the south of the Hills, and the
English--the Red Coats--the land north of them, they only laughed, and
said: "That is a mistake. Neither the Red Coats nor the Long Knives own
any of this country. Away back in the beginning of things our god whom
we call Old Man, made the world, and the animals, and us. When he made
this part of the world he saw that it was the best of all, and so he
gave it to us. It is our land; the white people cannot have it."
When they said that, the Blackfeet did not know how many the white
people were and how strong. Since that time their game has all been
killed, and their lands have been taken from them by the white race.
But I must go on with my story.
Very early the next morning, the camp crier went through the great camp
shouting that it was to be moved to the Sweet-Grass Hills. Almost as
fast as he went the lodges came down behind him. The men drove in and
caught the horses, the women packed them, and in a very short time the
long column of riders, loose and packed horses was strung out, heading
north across the big plain. There were so many people, so many horses,
that the column was all of three miles long. Most of the men and women
were splendidly dressed in buckskin clothes, beaded and painted and
fringed; and then the trappings of the horses, the queer pouches, sacks,
and parfleches they carried, were also painted in bright colors, so that
the whole procession was not unlike a rainbow snake moving out across
the brown plain. It was a romantic and barbaric pageant of shifting
color.
On this morning there was something new in the column. Along in the
centre of it, behind the horses that carried White Wolf's lodge and
packs, and his family, walked the three dogs, one behind another, loaded
with the play lodge and the little packs. Most of the children of the
tribe had not seen them working the day before, and now they came
crowding close on their horses, very much excited, and wishing that they
could have such an outfit. Right behind the dogs were Sinopah and Lone
Bull and Otaki on their ponies, and they were very much pleased at all
this attention.
"You must come and visit us when we set up the little lodge," they kept
telling the other children, and all promised that they would do so.
"But here are many hundred little ones," Sinopah's mother told him.
"They can't all get into the lodge."
"Some can come in one time, and some another," he replied; "and it is
nice just to stand and look at the outside of it."
Sinopah was getting wise.
There had been so much hunting near the river that the game had been
driven far out on the plains, and that was the reason the chiefs had
decided to move to another camping-ground, where meat could be more
quickly and easily killed by the hunters. It was about thirty miles
across country to the Hills. For half that distance only a few old
buffalo bulls and two or three bands of very wild antelope were seen.
But when about ten miles from the middle butte the people could see
thousands and thousands of buffalo and other game close to the north,
the east, and the west. Most of the men now rode ahead of the column to
hunt. They could be seen chasing different herds of the buffalo on their
swift, trained horses, and shooting them with guns and bow and arrows;
and where they passed were left many of the big, brown, shaggy-haired
animals lying dead on the plain, or standing all humped up on weakening
legs, sorely wounded, and soon to tumble down and die. The sight made
the hearts of the people glad; there would be plenty of fresh, fat meat,
many rich tongues to roast for the evening meal; food for many, many
days to come. The old men watched the chase with glistening eyes, and
became so excited that many of them pounded their safe, slow horses with
heels and quirt, forgetting for the moment that they could not be made
to go faster than an ambling trot; and so they fell to talking of what
big hunts they had made in their young days.
To the east the hunters who had gone in that direction rode out of
sight behind a low ridge on the plain and chased a herd of several
thousand buffalo. At first the animals ran eastward, but the wind was
from the west and as they always ran against it, they soon circled and
came thundering over the ridge and straight toward the long column of
the moving camp. The hunters saw the danger in that, but could not turn
them. The women and then the children began to shriek and cry, the old
men to shout and try to drive a part of the column forward, the other
part back, so as to save them from being gored and trampled by the
frightened and wildly rushing herd. It was a terrible sight, that
resistless mass of huge and sharp-horned animals coming straight for the
centre of the column of traveling people. The leaders of the herd, the
swiftest of the cows, had of course by this time smelled the riders, but
they were now powerless to stop or to turn back, for the closely packed
herd behind was pushing them; they had to keep going or be trampled to
death.
The old men had now succeeded in dividing the column by a little gap,
and were driving the women and children and the pack-animals to the
north and to the south, crowding them and widening the gap as fast as
possible. The confusion increased. The horses squealed and kicked one
another, and some of the frightened pack-animals ran away, scattering
their loads along the plain. A few old women, regardless of danger, rode
bawling after them in hope of recovering their little keepsakes and
treasures.
When the column was separated by a clear space of several hundred yards,
the buffalo began passing through it, on each edge so close to the
people that the wind caused by their rush could be felt, and their
black, angrily gleaming eyes could be plainly seen. The noise of their
thudding and rattling hoofs and clashing horns was terrific.
Sinopah and his mother were right at the north edge of the gap. His
little pony, always very gentle before this, now began to get
frightened and show signs of running away; and before any one could
prevent it, it bolted straight out toward the passing buffalo.
"Oh, my boy! My little boy! Save him!" his mother shrieked, and madly
whipping her horse, and without thought of the danger, took after him.
Other women shrieked and called for help. The old men there yelled and
followed after the mother, resolved to save her and the boy, and half
crazed because of the slowness of their horses.
Sinopah never once cried out or looked back. The people watching saw his
little mouth tightly shut, saw him gripping the saddle with both hands,
and they yelled to him to let go; to fall off. And at the same time they
knew that it was useless to shout to him, for even a clap of thunder
would have been lost in the roar and clatter of the passing herd.
It was only a few yards across the clear space to the edge of the
stream of buffalo. As the pony ran he seemed to go faster and faster.
The people watching lost all hope, and so did the mother and the old
men; but without a thought for themselves they only whipped their horses
the harder and pressed on.
The pony now had only a few more jumps to make in order to reach the
buffalo, but, excited as he was, still, from force of habit he was
watching out for safe footing. So it was that when almost on the point
of hitting a badger hole he suddenly jumped sideways to save himself;
jumped as quickly as a cat could have done, at a right angle to his
course. Sinopah was not prepared for that, he was only bracing himself
for straight-ahead running, and so when the pony jumped sideways he was
jerked loose from all holds. His little body actually flew out of the
saddle, went spinning through the air, and down he came to the ground on
his feet, then fell, and went rolling over and over on the short, thick
grass, and almost into the stream of buffalo. The pony kept on. As he
came to the herd the animals shrank and made way for him; he entered the
gap and in an instant it closed and he was lost to sight.
Sinopah's mother reached him almost as soon as he stopped rolling.
Jumping from her horse, she snatched him up from the ground and ran back
as fast as she could go, thinking no more of the horse nor caring what
became of it. One of the old men caught the animal and turned it over to
her later. Just as she got back to the people the last of the long herd
of buffalo passed, and the thunder of their hoofs soon died away. She
set Sinopah down on his feet and looked at him, felt of him, all the men
and women and children there crowding around. Sinopah was not crying,
nor laughing: just then his father came up on a big horse all covered
with foam, and he cried out to him: "Nina, awt-sim-o-ta no-tas.
Nok-o-twe-in-is." (Father, my horse ran away. Go get him.)
[Illustration: HIS LITTLE BODY ACTUALLY FLEW THROUGH THE AIR]
Every one laughed then, and White Wolf was quickly told what had
happened. Very gently he reached down and drew Sinopah up on the saddle
in front of him: "I am not surprised that the boy escaped," he said. "I
feel that the gods are good to this son of mine. I am sure that they
intend him to live to great age."