Soon after Timid Hare went to live in Bent Horn's lodge to serve his
beautiful daughter, there was a good deal of excitement in the village.
Messengers had come from other bands of the Dahcotas saying that their
chiefs were about to make a visit to Bent Horn. They wished to talk
over important matters in regard to the good of the whole tribe.
Both braves and squaws were busy preparing for the great time. There
would be dances and feasts, games and wrestling matches. The warriors
must make ready their best garments and noblest head-dresses. They
must use much grease and paint to look as grand as possible when
receiving their guests.
Sweet Grass and her mother had much to do getting ready for the
celebration, and Timid Hare tried her best to help. She ran errands,
pounded rice, brought wild sweet potatoes and dried berries from the
pit in which the stores of food were buried, and tended the fire in
which buffalo and bear meat were roasting, for much would be eaten
during the visit which would last several days at least.
Sweet Grass smiled upon her little helper. So did her mother. Both of
them were pleased with the child, and came near forgetting that she was
not one of their own people.
Then came the day when word was sent through the village that the
coming visit was to be celebrated by the Feast of the Dog. Different
families would be asked to sacrifice the dog dearest to their hearts.
Every one believed it would be a fit offering to the Great Spirit and
would fill his heart with tenderness for his red children.
It would also bind the hearts of the chiefs more closely together.
As Timid Hare went through the village one morning--it was the last one
before the visitors should arrive--she met Black Bull. It was the
first time she had seen him since she had gone from his lodge. As she
ran towards him he did not seem glad to see her. He simply looked at
her pitifully.
"What is the matter, Black Bull? Is there trouble? Tell me. Everyone
else is happy over the coming good time." Timid Hare spoke fast.
"My dog," he said brokenly. "My one friend must die. I must give him
as a sacrifice, so my mother has said." The poor fellow began to cry.
"Your dear Smoke! I am so sorry for you, Black Bull." Timid Hare's
own eyes filled with tears. "So sorry," she repeated.
"I will try to save him, though." The deformed youth looked wildly
about him as he spoke, as though he feared some one besides Timid Hare
would hear him. Then, without waiting for her to reply, he went off in
the direction of the spring, beyond which was a sharp bluff. Below
this bluff flowed a stream of water which in the autumn was deep--so
deep that any one could drown in it easily.
"I wonder what Black Bull meant when he said he would try to save
Smoke," thought Timid Hare, as she stood watching. "He cannot save the
dog. How hard it is! No one in the village seems to care for Black
Bull. The Stone, his own mother, treats him cruelly. The dog is his
only friend, as he says. I will tell my young mistress about him. It
may be she can help him."
As soon as Timid Hare had done her errand she ran home, still with the
thought of Black Bull's trouble in her mind. She had been in the tepee
only a few minutes before Sweet Grass noticed that something was the
matter with her little maid.
"What has happened, Timid Hare?" she asked. "Your face is long--so!"
She drew her own mouth down at the corners and made herself look so
funny that Timid Hare, sad as she felt, broke into a laugh.
"It is Black Bull," she answered. "He is in trouble. It is greater
than it would be with any one else in the village."
Then she went on to speak of the youth's lonely life, and that even his
mother treated him badly. Only one loved him: this was the dog Smoke
who followed him wherever he went and who did not mock him as the
children of the village sometimes did. Smoke was ever ready to smile
at him in the one way dogs can--with his tail. It was Smoke's love
alone that made Black Bull glad to live. And now--Timid Hare's voice
broke as she went on to tell of what must soon happen.
"Poor fellow!" said Sweet Grass softly. "Poor fellow," she repeated,
half to herself.
As it happened, Young Antelope was in the lodge when Timid Hare was
telling the story. He was busy making a shield; he intended to wear it
when first allowed to go forth on a war party with the older braves.
But though he was busy at his work, he listened with interest to the
words of Timid Hare.
Soon afterwards he left the tepee and ran along the path leading to the
spring. "If I see Black Bull," he thought, "I will speak kindly to him
even if he is such a useless creature."
When Young Antelope reached the spring he heard some one talking
angrily. This was followed by a cry of fear. The sounds came from the
direction of the bluff beyond, but the youth could see no one because
of clumps of brush which shut off the view from any one at the spring
below.
Young Antelope hurried along, till suddenly he caught a glimpse of two
figures on the very edge of the rocky summit of the bluff. One was
that of Thunder Cloud, a worthless fellow; the other which he held
struggling in his arms was that of The Stoned's deformed son. Black
Bull was helpless; he was at the mercy of Thunder Cloud who was about
to cast him into the stream below.
[Illustration: Black Bull was helpless.]
"What is this?" shouted Young Antelope. Thunder Cloud, startled,
turned suddenly about.
"I would punish this worthless fellow as he deserves," he answered.
"Do you know what he dared to do? He brought his dog to yonder brush
and fastened him in the midst. He thought to keep the animal from the
sacrifice. Ugh! A wretched creature indeed. His mother bade me
follow him."
"Make him free," said Young Antelope with the air of a mighty chief.
"My father will take care of him. As for you, go from my sight."
Thunder Cloud, who had already set Black Bull on his feet, though he
still clutched him tightly, let go his hold, and skulked away.
"Let your dog loose," Young Antelope now ordered Black Bull who stood
before him, still shivering from fright. "There! Now we will go to my
father and let him settle the matter. Follow me."
Black Bull, with Smoke capering about him in the joy of being set free,
followed Young Antelope silently till the two neared the council house
where Bent Horn was busy planning for the coming celebration. There,
in the autumn sunlight, they waited till the chief should appear and
the son whom he loved dearly should have a chance to ask for a certain
boon.
That night Black Bull went to sleep as happy as a king, even though his
mother had just given him a beating. Smoke was safe! Another, Young
Antelope, who had more treasures than he, was willing to make the
sacrifice in his place.