The full moon was just clear of the high mountain ranges. Surrounded by
a ring of bluish haze, it looked almost as if it were frozen against the
impalpable blueblack of the reckless midwinter sky.
The game scout moved slowly homeward, well wrapped in his long buffalo
robe, which was securely belted to his strong loins; his quiver tightly
tied to his shoulders so as not to impede his progress. It was enough to
carry upon his feet two strong snow-shoes; for the snow was deep and its
crust too thin to bear his weight.
As he emerged from the lowlands into the upper regions, he loomed up
a gigantic figure against the clear, moonlit horizon. His picturesque
foxskin cap with all its trimmings was incrusted with frost from the
breath of his nostrils, and his lagging footfall sounded crisply. The
distance he had that day covered was enough for any human endurance; yet
he was neither faint nor hungry; but his feet were frozen into the psay,
the snow-shoes, so that he could not run faster than an easy slip and
slide.
At last he reached the much-coveted point--the crown of the last ascent;
and when he smelled fire and the savory odor of the jerked buffalo meat,
it well-nigh caused him to waver! But he must not fail to follow the
custom of untold ages, and give the game scout’s wolf call before
entering camp.
Accordingly he paused upon the highest point of the ridge and uttered
a cry to which the hungry cry of a real wolf would have seemed but a
coyote’s yelp in comparison! Then it was that the rest of the buffalo
hunters knew that their game scout was returning with welcome news; for
the unsuccessful scout enters the camp silently.
A second time he gave the call to assure his hearers that their ears
did not deceive them. The gray wolves received the news with perfect
understanding. It meant food! “Woo-o-o-o! woo-o-o-o!” came from all
directions, especially from the opposite ridge. Thus the ghostly, cold,
weird night was enlivened with the music from many wild throats.
Down the gradual slope the scout hastened; his footfall was the only
sound that broke the stillness after the answers to his call had ceased.
As he crossed a little ridge an immense wolf suddenly confronted him,
and instead of retreating, calmly sat up and gazed steadfastly into his
face.
“Welcome, welcome, friend!” the hunter spoke as he passed.
In the meantime, the hunters at the temporary camp were aroused to a
high pitch of excitement. Some turned their buffalo robes and put them
on in such a way as to convert themselves into make-believe bison, and
began to tread the snow, while others were singing the buffalo song,
that their spirits might be charmed and allured within the circle of
the camp-fires. The scout, too, was singing his buffalo bull song in a
guttural, lowing chant as he neared the hunting camp. Within arrow-shot
he paused again, while the usual ceremonies were enacted for his
reception. This done, he was seated with the leaders in a chosen place.
“It was a long run,” he said, “but there were no difficulties. I found
the first herd directly north of here. The second herd, a great one,
is northeast, near Shell Lake. The snow is deep. The buffalo can only
follow their leader in their retreat.”
“Hi, hi, hi!” the hunters exclaimed solemnly in token of gratitude,
raising their hands heavenward and then pointing them toward the ground.
“Ho, kola! one more round of the buffalo-pipe, then we shall retire, to
rise before daybreak for the hunt,” advised one of the leaders. Silently
they partook in turn of the long-stemmed pipe, and one by one, with a
dignified “Ho!” departed to their teepees.
The scout betook himself to his little old buffalo teepee, which he used
for winter hunting expeditions. His faithful Shunka, who had been all
this time its only occupant, met him at the entrance as dogs alone know
how to welcome a lifelong friend. As his master entered he stretched
himself in his old-time way, from the tip of his tail to that of his
tongue, and finished by curling both ends upward.
“Ho, mita shunka, eat this; for you must be hungry!” So saying, the
scout laid before his canine friend the last piece of his dried buffalo
meat. It was the sweetest meal ever eaten by a dog, judging by his long
smacking of his lips after he had swallowed it!
The hunting party was soon lost in heavy slumber. Not a sound could be
heard save the gnawing of the ponies upon the cottonwood bark, which was
provided for them instead of hay in the winter time.
All about Shell Lake the bison were gathered in great herds. The
unmistakable signs of the sky had warned them of approaching bad
weather. The moon’s robe was girdled with the rainbow wampum of heaven.
The very music of the snow under their feet had given them warning. On
the north side of Shell Lake there were several deep gulches, which were
the homes of every wanderer of the plains at such a time at this. When
there was a change toward severe weather, all the four-footed people
headed for this lake. Here was a heavy growth of reeds, rushes, and
coarse grass, making good shelters, and also springs, which afforded
water after the lake was frozen solid. Hence great numbers of the bison
had gathered here.
When Wapashaw, the game scout, had rolled himself in his warm buffalo
robe and was sound asleep, his faithful companion hunter, the great
Esquimaux wolf dog, silently rose and again stretched himself, then
stood quiet for a moment as if meditating. It was clear that he knew
well what he had planned to do, but was considering how he should do it
without arousing any suspicion of his movements. This is a dog’s art,
and the night tricks and marauding must always be the joy and secret of
his life!
Softly he emerged from the lodge and gave a sweeping glance around to
assure him that there were none to spy upon him. Suspiciously he sniffed
the air, as if to ascertain whether there could be any danger to his
sleeping master while he should be away.
His purpose was still a secret. It may be that it was not entirely a
selfish one, or merely the satisfying of his inherited traits. Having
fully convinced himself of the safety of the unguarded camp, he went
forth into the biting cold. The moon was now well up on the prairies of
the sky. There were no cloud hills in the blue field above to conceal
her from view. Her brilliant light set on fire every snow gem upon the
plains and hillsides about the hunters’ camp.
Up the long ascent he trotted in a northerly direction, yet not
following his master’s trail. He was large and formidable in strength,
combining the features of his wild brothers of the plains with those of
the dogs who keep company with the red men. His jet-black hair and sharp
ears and nose appeared to immense advantage against the spotless and
jeweled snow, until presently his own warm breath had coated him with
heavy frost.
After a time Shunka struck into his master’s trail and followed it all
the way, only taking a short cut here and there when by dog instinct he
knew that a man must go around such a point to get to his destination.
He met many travelers during the night, but none had dared to approach
him, though some few followed at a distance, as if to discover his
purpose.
At last he reached Shell Lake, and there beheld a great gathering of the
herds! They stood in groups, like enormous rocks, no longer black,
but white with frost. Every one of them emitted a white steam, quickly
frozen into a fine snow in the air.
Shunka sat upon his haunches and gazed.
“Wough, this is it!” he said to himself. He had kept still when the game
scout gave the wolf call, though the camp was in an uproar, and from
the adjacent hills the wild hunters were equally joyous, because they
understood the meaning of the unwonted noise. Yet his curiosity was not
fully satisfied, and he had set out to discover the truth, and it may be
to protect or serve his master in case of danger.
At daybreak the great dog meekly entered his master’s rude teepee, and
found him already preparing for the prospective hunt. He was filling his
inside moccasins full of buffalo hair to serve as stockings, over which
he put on his large buffalo moccasins with the hair inside, and adjusted
his warm leggings. He then adjusted his snowshoes and filled his quiver
full of good arrows. The dog quietly lay down in a warm place, making
himself as small as possible, as if to escape observation, and calmly
watched his master.
“Ho, ho, ho, kola! Enakanee, enakanee!” shouted the game herald. “It is
always best to get the game early; then their spirits can take flight
with the coming of a new day!”
All had now donned their snow-shoes. There was no food left; therefore
no delay to prepare breakfast.
“It is very propitious for our hunt,” one exclaimed; “everything is in
our favor. There is a good crust on the snow, and the promise of a good
clear day!”
Soon all the hunters were running in single file upon the trail of the
scout, each Indian closely followed by his trusty hunting dog. In less
than two hours they stood just back of the low ridge which rounded the
south side of Shell Lake. The narrow strip of land between its twin
divisions was literally filled with the bison. In the gulches beyond,
between the dark lines of timber, there were also scattered groups;
but the hunters at once saw their advantage over the herd upon the
peninsula.
“Hechetu, kola! This is well, friends!” exclaimed the first to speak.
“These can be forced to cross the slippery ice and the mire around the
springs. This will help us to get more meat. Our people are hungry, and
we must kill many in order to feed them!”
“Ho, ho, ho!” agreed all the hunters.
“And it is here that we can use our companion hunters best, for the
shunkas will intimidate and bewilder the buffalo women,” said an old
man.
“Ugh, he is always right! Our dogs must help us here. The meat will be
theirs as well as ours,” another added.
“Tosh, kola! The game scout’s dog is the greatest shunka of them all!
He has a mind near like that of a man. Let him lead the attack of his
fellows, while we crawl up on the opposite side and surround the buffalo
upon the slippery ice and in the deceitful mire,” spoke up a third. So
it was agreed that the game scout and his Shunka should lead the attack
of the dogs.
“Woo, woo, woo!” was the hoarse signal from the throat of the game
scout; but his voice was drowned by the howling and barking of the
savage dogs as they made their charge. In a moment all was confusion
among the buffalo. Some started this way, others that, and the great
mass swayed to and fro uncertainly. A few were ready to fight, but the
snow was too deep for a countercharge upon the dogs, save on the ice
just in front of them, where the wind had always full sweep. There all
was slippery and shining! In their excitement and confusion the bison
rushed upon this uncertain plain.
Their weight and the momentum of their rush carried them hopelessly far
out, where they were again confused as to which way to go, and many were
stuck in the mire which was concealed by the snow, except here and there
an opening above a spring from which there issued a steaming vapor.
The game scout and his valiant dog led on the force of canines with
deafening war-cries, and one could see black heads here and there
popping from behind the embankments. As the herd finally swept toward
the opposite shore, many dead were left behind. Pierced by the arrows of
the hunters, they lay like black mounds upon the glassy plain.
It was a great hunt! “Once more the camp will be fed,” they thought, “and
this good fortune will help us to reach the spring alive!”
A chant of rejoicing rang out from the opposite shore, while the game
scout unsheathed his big knife and began the work which is ever the
sequel of the hunt--to dress the game; although the survivors of the
slaughter had scarcely disappeared behind the hills. The dogs had all
run back to their respective masters, and this left the scout and
his companion Shunka alone. Some were appointed to start a camp in a
neighboring gulch among the trees, so that the hunters might bring their
meat there and eat before setting out for the great camp on the Big
River.
All were busily skinning and cutting up the meat into pieces convenient
for carrying, when suddenly a hunter called the attention of those near
him to an ominous change in the atmosphere.
“There are signs of a blizzard! We must hurry into the near woods before
it reaches us!” he shouted.
Some heard him; others did not. Those who saw or heard passed on the
signal and hurried toward the wood, where others had already arranged
rude shelters and gathered piles of dry wood for fuel.
Around the several camp-fires the hunters sat or stood, while slices
of savory meat were broiled and eaten with a relish by the half-starved
men.
“Ho, kola! Eat this, friend!” said they to one another as one finished
broiling a steak of the bison and offered it to his neighbor.
But the storm had now fairly enveloped them in whirling whiteness.
“Woo, woo!” they called to those who had not yet reached camp. One after
another answered and emerged from the blinding pall of snow. At last
none were missing save the game scout and his Shunka!
The hunters passed the time in eating and telling stories until a late
hour, occasionally giving a united shout to guide the lost one should he
chance to pass near their camp.
“Fear not for our scout, friends!” finally exclaimed a leader
among them. “He is a brave and experienced man. He will find a safe
resting-place, and join us when the wind ceases to rage.” So they all
wrapped themselves in their robes and lay down to sleep.
All that night and the following day it was impossible to give succor,
and the hunters felt much concern for the absent. Late in the second
night the great storm subsided.
“Ho, ho! Iyotanka! Rise up!” So the first hunter to awaken aroused all
the others.
As after every other storm, it was wonderfully still; so still that one
could hear distinctly the pounding feet of the jack-rabbits coming down
over the slopes to the willows for food. All dry vegetation was buried
beneath the deep snow, and everywhere they saw this white-robed creature
of the prairie coming down to the woods.
Now the air was full of the wolf and coyote game call, and they were
seen in great numbers upon the ice.
“See, see! the hungry wolves are dragging the carcasses away! Harken
to the war cries of the scout’s Shunka! Hurry, hurry!” they urged one
another in chorus.
Away they ran and out upon the lake; now upon the wind-swept ice, now
upon the crusted snow; running when they could, sliding when they must.
There was certainly a great concourse of the wolves, whirling in frantic
circles, but continually moving toward the farther end of the lake.
They could hear distinctly the hoarse bark of the scout’s Shunka, and
occasionally the muffled war-whoop of a man, as if it came from under
the ice!
As they approached nearer the scene they could hear more distinctly the
voice of their friend, but still as it were from underground. When they
reached the spot to which the wolves had dragged two of the carcasses of
the buffalo, Shunka was seen to stand by one of them, but at that moment
he staggered and fell. The hunters took out their knives and ripped up
the frozen hide covering the abdominal cavity. It revealed a warm nest
of hay and buffalo hair in which the scout lay, wrapped in his own robe!
He had placed his dog in one of the carcasses and himself in another for
protection from the storm; but the dog was wiser than the man, for
he kept his entrance open. The man lapped the hide over and it froze
solidly, shutting him securely in. When the hungry wolves came Shunka
promptly extricated himself and held them off as long as he could;
meanwhile, sliding and pulling, the wolves continued to drag over the
slippery ice the body of the buffalo in which his master had taken
refuge. The poor, faithful dog, with no care for his own safety, stood
by his imprisoned master until the hunters came up. But it was too late,
for he had received more than one mortal wound.
As soon as the scout got out, with a face more anxious for another than
for himself, he exclaimed:
“Where is Shunka, the bravest of his tribe?”
“Ho, kola, it is so, indeed; and here he lies,” replied one sadly.
His master knelt by his side, gently stroking the face of the dog.
“Ah, my friend; you go where all spirits live! The Great Mystery has a
home for every living creature. May he permit our meeting there!”
At daybreak the scout carried him up to one of the pretty round hills
overlooking the lake, and built up around him walls of loose stone. Red
paints were scattered over the snow, in accordance with Indian custom,
and the farewell song was sung.
Since that day the place has been known to the Sioux as
Shunkahanakapi--the Grave of the Dog.