Many years ago a large body of the Sioux were encamped at midsummer
in the valley of the Cheyenne. It was customary at that period for
the Indians to tie up their ponies over night within the circle of the
teepees, whenever they were in disputed territory, for they considered
it no wrong to steal the horses of the enemy. Hence this long procession
of young men and maidens, returning at sunset to the camp with great
bundles of green grass hanging gracefully from their saddles!
The “green grass parade” became a regular custom, and in fact a
full-dress affair, since it was found to afford unusual opportunities
for courtship.
Blue Sky, the pretty daughter of the Sioux chief, put on her best
doeskin gown trimmed with elks’ teeth, and investing her favorite
spotted pony with his beaded saddle-blanket, she went forth in company
with one of her maiden friends. Soon two young warriors overtook the
pair; and as they approached they covered their heads with their robes,
exposing only the upper part of the face disguised with paint and the
single eagle feather standing upright. One carried a bow and quiver full
of arrows; the other, a war-club suspended from his right arm.
“Ah, hay, hun, hay!” saluted one of them; but the modest maidens said
never a word! It was not their way to speak; only the gay calico ponies
pranced about and sportively threw back their ears to snap at the horses
of the two young men.
“‘Tis a brave welcome your horses are giving us!” he continued, while
the two girls merely looked at one another with perfect understanding.
Presently Matoska urged his pony close to the Blue Sky’s side.
“It may be that I am overbold,” he murmured in her ear, “to repeat so
soon my tale of love! I know well that I risk a reprimand, if not in
words, then by a look or action!”
He paused to note the effect of his speech; but alas! it is the hard
rule of savage courtship that the maiden may with propriety and dignity
keep silence as long as she wishes, and it is often exasperatingly long.
“I have spoken to no maiden,” he resumed, “because I wished to win the
war-bonnet before doing so. But to you I was forced to yield!” Again
he paused, as if fearing to appear unduly hasty; but deliberate as were
speech and manner, his eyes betrayed him. They were full of intense
eagerness mingled with anxiety.
“Sometimes I have imagined that I am in the world with you alone,
traveling over the prairie of life, or sitting in our lonely white
teepee, as the oriole sits with his mate before their swaying home. Yet
I seemed to be never lonely, because you were there!” He finished his
plea, and with outward calmness awaited her reply.
The maiden had not lost a word, but she was still thinking. She thought
that a man is much like the wind of the north, only pleasant and
comfortable in midsummer! She feared that she might some time have to
furnish all the fuel for their love’s fires; therefore she held her
peace. Matoska waited for several minutes and then silently withdrew,
bearing his disappointment with dignity.
Meanwhile the camp was astir with the returning youths and maidens,
their horses’ sides fringed with the long meadow grass, singing
plaintive serenades around the circular rows of teepees before they
broke up for the night.
It was a clear and quiet night; the evening fires were kindled and every
teepee transformed into an immense Chinese lantern. There was a glowing
ring two miles in circumference, with the wooded river bottom on one
side and the vast prairie on the other. The Black Hills loomed up in the
distance, and the rapids of the wild Cheyenne sent forth a varying peal
of music on the wind. The people enjoyed their evening meal, and in the
pauses of their talk and laughter the ponies could be heard munching at
the bundles of green grass just outside the teepees.
Suddenly a chorus of yells broke cruelly the peace of the camp, followed
by the dashing charge of the Crow Indian horsemen! It was met as bravely
and quickly by the Sioux; and in the clear, pale moonlight the dusky
warriors fought, with the occasional flash of a firearm, while silent
weapons flew thick in the air like dragon-flies at sunset.
The brave mothers, wives, and sisters gave their shrill war-cry to
inspire their men, and show the enemy that even the Sioux women cannot
be daunted by such a fearful surprise!
When the morning sun sent its golden shafts among the teepees, they saw
it through glistening tears--happy tears, they said, because the brave
dead had met their end in gallant fight--the very end they craved! And
among those who fell that night was Brave Hawk, the handsome brother of
the Blue Sky.
In a few days the camp was moved to a point further up the Cheyenne and
deeper into the bosom of the hills, leaving behind the decorated
grave lodges belonging to the honored dead. A great council teepee was
pitched, and here the people met to credit those who had earned them
with the honors of the fight, that they might thereafter wear the eagle
feathers which they had won.
“The first honor,” declared the master of ceremonies, “belongs to Brave
Hawk, who fell in the battle! He it was who compelled the Crows to
retreat, when he bravely charged upon them and knocked from his horse
the Crow chief, their war leader.”
“Ho, it is true!” exclaimed the warriors in chorus.
“The second honor,” he resumed, “belongs to Matoska, the White Bear!”
“Hun, hun, hay!” interposed another, “it is I, Red Owl, who touched the
body of the Crow chief second to Brave Hawk!”
It was a definite challenge.
“The warriors who witnessed the act give the coup to Matoska, friend!”
persisted the spokesman.
Red Owl was a brave youth and a close rival of Matoska, both for war
honors and for the hand of the prettiest maiden in the tribe. He had
hoped to be recognized as one who fought in defense of their homes by
the side of Brave Hawk; that would please the Blue Sky, he thought; but
the honor was conferred upon his rival!
There was a cloud of suppressed irritation on his dusky face as he
sullenly departed to his own tent--an action which displeased the
council-men. Matoska had not spoken, and this caused him to appear to
the better advantage. The worst of it was that Blue Sky herself
had entered the ring with the “orphan steed,” as it was called--the
war-horse of her dead brother, and had therefore seen and heard
everything! Tanagila, or Hummingbird, the beautiful charger, decorated
according to custom with the honors won by his master, was led away by
the girl amidst resounding war-whoops.
Unable to remain quiet, Red Owl went out into the hills to fast and
pray. It was sunset of the next day when he again approached the
village, and behind a little ridge came suddenly upon Matoska and the
girl standing together. It was the first time that they had met since
the “green grass parade,” and now only by accident, as the sister of
Brave Hawk was in deep mourning. However, the lover had embraced his
opportunity, and the maiden had said that she was willing to think of
the matter. No more words were spoken.
That very night the council drum was struck three times, followed by the
warriors’ cheer. Everybody knew what that meant. It was an invitation to
the young men to go upon the war-path against the Crows!
Blue Sky was unconsciously startled by this sudden announcement. For the
first time in her life she felt a fear that she could not explain. The
truth was that she loved, and was not yet fully aware of it. In spite of
her fresh grief, she had been inexplicably happy since her last meeting
with Matoska, for she had seen in him that which is so beautiful, so
compelling in man to the eyes of the woman who loves. He, too, now
cherished a real hope, and felt as if he could rush into the thickest of
the battle to avenge the brother of his beloved!
In a few days the war-party had reached the Big Horn and sent out
advance scouts, who reported a large Crow encampment. Their hundreds of
horses covered the flats like a great herd of buffalo, they said. It was
immediately decided to attack at daybreak, and on a given signal they
dashed impetuously upon the formidable camp. Some stampeded and drove
off a number of horses, while the main body plunged into the midst of
the Crows.
But the enemy were not easily surprised. They knew well the Sioux
tactics, and there was a desperate struggle for supremacy. War-club was
raised against war-club, and the death-song of the arrow filled the
air! Presently the Sioux were forced to retreat, with the Crows in hot
pursuit, like wolves after their prey.
Red Owl and Matoska had been among the foremost in the charge, and
now they acted as a rear-guard, bravely defending the retreat of their
little army, to the admiration of the enemy. At last a Crow raised his
spear against Matoska, who in a flash dismounted him with a stroke of
his oaken bow; but alas! the blow snapped the bow-string and left him
defenseless. At the same instant his horse uttered a scream and fell,
throwing its rider headlong!
There was no one near except Red Owl, who clapped his heels to his pony
and joined in the retreat, leaving Matoska behind. He arose, threw down
his quiver, and advanced alone to meet the oncoming rush of the Crows!
The Sioux had seen him fall. In a few moments he was surrounded by the
enemy, and they saw him no more.
The pursuit was stopped, and they paused upon a hilltop to collect the
remnant of their force. Red Owl was the last to come up, and it was
observed that he did not look like himself.
“Tell us, what were Matoska’s last words?” they asked him.
But he silently dismounted and sent an arrow through his faithful steed,
to the astonishment of the warriors. Immediately afterward he took out
his knife and stabbed himself to the heart.
“Ah!” they exclaimed, “he could not live to share our humiliation!”
The war-party returned defeated and cast down by this unexpected ending
to their adventure, having lost some of their bravest and best men. The
camp was instantly thrown into mourning. Many were in heavy grief, but
none was more deeply stricken than the maiden called the Blue Sky, the
daughter of their chief.
She remained within her teepee and wept in secret, for none knew that
she had the right to mourn. Yet she believed that her lover had met with
misfortune, but not death. Although his name was announced among those
warriors who fell in the field, her own heart assured her that it was
not so. “I must go to him,” she said to herself. “I must know certainly
whether he is still among the living!”
The next evening, while the village was yet in the confusion of great
trouble and sorrow, Blue Sky rode out upon her favorite pony as if to
take him to water as usual, but none saw her return! She hastened to
the spot where she had concealed two sacks of provisions and her extra
moccasins and materials for sewing. She had no weapon, save her knife
and a small hatchet. She knew the country between the Black Hills and
the Big Horn, and knew that it was full of perils for man and much more
for woman. Yet by traveling only at night and concealing herself in the
daytime she hoped to avoid these dangers, and she rode bravely forth on
the trail of the returning warriors.
Her dog, Wapayna, had followed the maiden, and she was not sorry to
have so faithful a companion. She cautioned him not to bark at or attack
strange animals unless they attacked first, and he seemed to understand
the propriety of remaining on guard whenever his mistress was asleep.
She reached the Powder River country in safety, and here she had more
than once to pick her way among the buffaloes. These wily animals seemed
to realize that she was only a woman and unarmed, so that they scarcely
kept out of her path. She also crossed the trails of riders, some of
them quite fresh, but was fortunate enough not to meet any of them.
At last the maiden attained the divide between the Tongue and the Big
Horn rivers. Her heart beat fast, and the sudden sense of her strange
mission almost overwhelmed her. She remembered the only time in her life
that the Sioux were upon that river, and so had that bit of friendly
welcome from the valley--a recollection of childhood!
It was near morning; the moon had set and for a short time darkness
prevailed, but the girl’s eyes had by this time become accustomed to
the dark. She knew the day was at hand, and with its first beams she was
safely tucked into one of those round turns left by the river long ago
in changing its bed, now become a little grassy hollow sheltered by
steep banks, and hidden by a fringe of trees. Here she picketed her
pony, and took her own rest. Not until the afternoon shadows were
long did she awake and go forth with determination to seek for the
battlefield and for the Crow encampment.
It was not long before she came upon the bodies of fallen horses and
men. There was Matoska’s white charger, with a Sioux arrow in his side,
and she divined the treachery of Red Owl! But he was dead, and his death
had atoned for the crime. The body of her lover was nowhere to be found;
yet how should they have taken the bravest of the Sioux a captive?
“If he had but one arrow left, he would stand and fight! If his
bow-string were broken, he would still welcome death with a strong
heart,” she thought.
The evening was approaching and the Crow village in plain sight. Blue
Sky arranged her hair and dress as well as she could like that of a Crow
woman, and with an extra robe she made for herself a bundle that looked
as if it held a baby in its many wrappings. The community was still
celebrating its recent victory over the Sioux, and the camp was alive
with songs and dances. In the darkness she approached unnoticed, and
singing in an undertone a Crow lullaby, walked back and forth among the
lodges, watching eagerly for any signs of him she sought.
At last she came near to the council lodge. There she beheld his face
like an apparition through the dusk and the fire-light! He was sitting
within, dressed in the gala costume of a Crow.
“O, he is living! he is living!” thought the brave maiden. “O, what
shall I do?” Unconsciously she crept nearer and nearer, until the sharp
eyes of an Indian detected the slight difference in her manner and
dress, and he at once gave the alarm.
“Wah, wah! Epsaraka! Epsaraka! A Sioux! A Sioux!”
In an instant the whole camp had surrounded the girl, who stood in their
midst a prisoner, yet undaunted, for she had seen her lover, and the
spirit of her ancestors rose within her.
An interpreter was brought, a man who was half Crow and half Sioux.
“Young and pretty daughter of the Sioux!” exclaimed the chief, “tell us
how you came here in our midst undetected, and why!”
“Because,” replied the Blue Sky, “your brave warriors have slain my only
brother, and captured my lover, whom you now hold a prisoner. It is for
his sake that I have thus risked my life and honor!”
“Ho, ho! You are the bravest woman I have ever seen. Your lover was
betrayed into our hands by the treachery of one of his own tribe, who
shot his horse from behind. He faced us without fear, but it was not his
courage that saved his life. He resembles my own son, who lately fell in
battle, and according to the custom I have adopted him as my son!”
Thus the brave maiden captured the heart of the wily Crow, and was
finally allowed to return home with her lover, bearing many and rich
presents. Her name is remembered among the two tribes, for this act of
hers resulted in a treaty of peace between them which was kept for a
generation.