I saw it all together; and what was far away was near too, because
of the clear light that lived everywhere. Many smokes rose straight
like slender trees from many hoops of people living in green valleys
by bright streams. And while I looked and looked, there was a kind of
singing everywhere, although everything was still. Then all at once
a great happy neighing filled the world, and there was a horseback
coming on a green, green hill that lived high up in the blue, blue sky;
and I saw it was the buffalo-runner that came prancing and nickering,
and on his back was my father smiling down at me, and his face was
all shining. Then he leaned to hold a hand for my foot, and I mounted
behind him, light as a feather, and the buffalo horse leaped into a run
that was like floating, and when he neighed it was laughter. Buffalo
beyond counting raised their noses from the glowing grass and lowed
softly as we passed, and the elk were glad to see us and the deer and
antelope danced with joy.
“Then when we had come to the high green hilltop living in the happy
blue, the horse stood floating, and I heard my father saying: ‘You
must go back to your mother now and take care of her and tell her not
to cry any more. Always be good to old people and bring them tender
meat that they can chew. And never be afraid of anything.’ And when I
put my arms around his waist, trying to hold on a little longer, there
was nothing in my arms, and the hill went dark; and I awoke, lying
beside the scaffold in the cold starlight.
“My grandfather lay sound asleep there where he had been praying; and
my mother and grandmother were sleeping too, worn out with weeping.
There was a low streak of day far off, and the big morning star was
looking down at me, very kind with something that it knew, for what it
knew was good.
“I was glad the old ones were resting, and I did not feel alone or
afraid, because my father was just a little sleep away. And while I sat
there looking at the star, I thought of many great deeds that I would
do, for I would be as brave as my father and as good to all the old
people. I was almost a chief already in my thinking before the streak
of day had widened and the star died. Then all the hills around stood
up to stare upon the scaffold with sad looks, and I began to cry again.
“Some relatives came with the sun to take us back to the village, and
there was a sweat bath ready for my grandfather and me. And while we
were being cleansed and rubbed with sacred sage, some women were taking
care of my mother and grandmother, washing the tears from their faces
and combing and braiding their hair. Then they fed us, and we ate.
“And when we had eaten, there were two good old men and two good old
women who came to teach us, the men for the men and the women for the
women. And they taught us, being wise, for they had lived much and
wanted nothing any more. It was a good time to become better people,
they said, for now we had nothing left but the spirit. We should stay
there four days after the village moved away, and those four days we
should lament and pray. But there were others who had lost everything,
and they were mourning too. We should remember to be kind to them and
to try to help them in their sorrow, and that would make our spirits
stronger. Then after four days, we could leave that place and wander
alone, the four of us; and while we wandered we should mourn less
and less, but keep on praying. And always we should be up to see the
morning star, for that would give us wisdom.
“So the village moved away from that place of death, and only those who
mourned were left; and we were all kind to each other, sharing much
sorrow and a little meat.
“And when the fifth day came, we caught one of the old horses that
had been left behind, a lame old grandfather horse who was always
looking at the ground. And we made a drag for him and on it we put a
smoke-blackened piece of an old tepee that was left behind because it
was no good any more. Then we began wandering alone out into the hills
towards where the sun comes up, because there were no soldiers over
there.
“We had no gun, but I had my bow with the sharp arrows. It was my
second bow and it was still a little too strong for me. My grandfather
had said it would make me grow faster so; but that was why I had never
killed anything bigger than a rabbit. I could not pull it far enough to
kill.
“My grandfather felt bad when we began to wander, and he got sicker
until he could hardly walk. So we camped by a water hole and made a
shelter with the old piece of a tepee, so that he could rest and get
well. Of course, my mother and grandfather could not talk to each
other, because he was her man’s father, but my mother was good to him
anyway. She would hunt turnips and berries, and when she had cooked
these, she would put them where he could get them. If they wanted to
say something to each other, they would tell my grandmother and she
would say it. The little dried meat we had was gone, and we got very
hungry eating wild turnips and buffalo berries.
“We did not forget to pray, but it seemed Wakon Tonka did not hear us.
I roamed far from our camp looking for a rabbit that I could kill; but
I could not find one sitting; and when I would came back with nothing,
my mother and grandmother would be crying, because they were thinking
how it was before my father went away.
“Then one day when I was far from camp looking for meat, I came to a
water hole with deer tracks all around it; and all at once my heart
grew strong, for there was a clump of brush just a little way from the
hole, and I knew what I would do. I did not say anything about this at
home, and I think I hardly slept at all that night.
“Something ’woke me when it was still dark. The morning star was just
beginning to look over the world, and I asked it to help me. The
others were still asleep, and I started for the water hole where the
deer tracks were. There was a long valley, and afterwhile there was a
gulch to the right. Up that gulch and over a ridge there was another
valley. To the left a long way up that valley was the hole with the
deer tracks, over at the bottom of a ridge to the right, and close by
was the brush. I was running fast before I knew it; but I made myself
go slower because I could not shoot straight out of breath. It was
hard to keep from running, but I came to the place when there was just
a little streak of day far off. The star looked happy, waiting for
something good to happen.
“It was very still, because the wind was waiting for the sun; but
when I wet my finger in my mouth and held it up, I could feel the air
breathing a little towards the water hole; and that was good. Then I
went into the brush, standing so that I could see the hole, and began
to pray hard, just whispering so that only Wakon Tonka could hear me,
and I said: ‘Grandfather, send me a deer and make me strong to pull
this bow and guide my arrow when I shoot. You see that we are poor, for
we have given everything to the needy. My mother is crying, and the old
people are crying, and we are all hungry. I have been a little boy long
enough, and you must make me strong. You can do anything.’
“When I had said this over and over, I got to thinking of my dream
there by the scaffold, and how he told me to take care of my mother and
be good to old people. While I thought about this, I could feel myself
growing stronger and stronger. And when it was just getting daylight,
all at once there was a deer with a fawn coming down to the water hole.
“I held my breath and waited until they put their noses in the water.
The smaller one had its side towards me, and it was the one I wanted,
because maybe I could drag it home, and also the meat would be very
tender for my sick grandfather.
“Maybe it was the dream that made me strong. I took a big breath and
pulled quick and hard. Maybe Wakon Tonka pulled a little too. The
string came back almost to my shoulder. _Whang!_
“I ran out of the brush and danced and yelled and yelled, until the
hills across the valley yelled back, cheering me for what I had done.
The arrow went deep just behind the shoulder. I had a deer! I had a
deer!
“Then I quit yelling, because the fawn began to look so big I wondered
how I was going to get it all the way home. I had my knife yet, because
I was so proud of it that I kept it hidden when we were giving to the
needy. I could cut off a hindquarter and carry that; but I wanted to
show the whole deer all at once. So I began dragging it down the valley
by the heels. But it was getting bigger and bigger, and when the sun
looked over at me, I was all out of breath and had to sit down on it
and pant. Then when I had my breath back, I began dragging again. But
the sun was getting hotter and the deer was getting bigger. Pretty soon
it would be as big as a buffalo, and I could never get it all over the
ridge into the next valley.
“I looked around with a forked mind, wondering what to do, and there
were some stunted trees standing low down on the side of the ridge I
had to cross. I would cut the deer up and put the pieces in a tree, all
but one hindquarter, where my mother and I could find them. So that is
what I did.
“The sun was getting high when I sneaked up to the camp through some
brush because I wanted to surprise my people. And when my mother and
grandmother saw me there, panting and all bloody with the meat on my
shoulder, they just stared awhile with their mouths open. Then my
grandmother began jumping up and down like a little girl, crying: ‘O
see what our grandson has brought us! O see what our big grandson has
brought us!’ Then my grandfather sat up; and when he saw, he clapped
his hands, crying, ‘_hiyay! hiyay!_’ And my mother laughed with joy. It
was the first time since my father went away.
“So my mother sliced the meat and roasted it over a low fire, and we
feasted. But before we ate, my grandfather raised his hands towards
where the sun goes down, and made an offering, like this: ‘Grandfather,
Great Mysterious One, behold me! You have sent our boy a deer and made
us happy. Remembering all living things that are in need, this I offer
to you that my people may live and the children grow up with plenty.’
Then each of us cut off a little piece of meat and tossed it over the
shoulder. It was the first bite to the Spirit that gave. I did not make
mine very big, for I could feel teeth inside of me, I was so hungry.
While we ate I had to tell how I did it, and I told everything but the
dream; for if I told that, maybe I would lose my new medicine power.
“When my mother and I brought the rest of the meat home, we feasted
again; and when we were full, we sang. Then my grandfather blew a big
breath and said: ‘I think this is going to make me well again.’ And so
it was.
“I did not sleep for a long while that night, thinking about what I had
done and all I was going to do. Sometimes I could hear my mother crying
a little so as not to waken anybody, and my grandmother moaning in her
sleep. It made me feel stronger than ever to hear this.
“It is a long way back to where we have been, and I am weary. You will
come again tomorrow.”
V
_Was the Great Voice Angry?_
It was apparent from a distance that Eagle Voice was up and waiting. A
thin stem of smoke from a well-established fire stood tall and straight
above the tepee, blooming flatly aloft in the glittering, knife-edged
air of the clear morning.
As I stooped through the flap, the sudden friendly warmth seemed to
radiate from the old man’s happy face. “_How_, my grandson,” he said
merrily. “The Grandfather has sent us a good day, and I am glad to see
you.”
The pipe was ready and we smoked awhile in silence.
“That was very tender meat we had yesterday,” he said at length, with a
mock-serious crinkling about his eyes. “I think it was the best meat I
ever ate. It sent me a good dream last night, and I think I am getting
younger. If only I had enough of it, maybe I could turn into a boy!
“Yes, it made my grandfather well again, and after that we did not lack
meat, for he was a better hunter than I was, even with my new medicine
power! In those days I thought he was almost as old as the hills, but I
can see now that he would have to be my younger son if he came back.
“So we wandered while the young moon came and grew and died, praying
much and mourning less and less; and always we were up to see the
morning star. Who sees the morning star shall see more, for he shall be
wise. The people were still good in those days before the sacred hoop
was broken; but the time of wandering alone with the spirit, mourning
and praying, made them better. It was like dying with the dear one and
coming back all new again and stronger to live. Now, when somebody
dies, we don’t go anywhere. We just sit where we are and feel bad, and
we don’t get along with each other any more, for we have forgotten how
to learn.
“Afterwhile it was getting to be the time to make winter meat, and we
wanted to be ready for the big buffalo hunt; so we went back to our
village in the valley of the Tongue.
“Everybody was happy to see us again. The people sang welcoming songs
when we entered the hoop and circled the village from left to right, as
young men ride after a victory. My grandfather walked first, leading
the horse with the drag, and behind the drag was grandmother, then my
mother, and I was last. The old grandfather horse was very tired, but
he lifted his head and nickered to the singers, for he was happy too.
“When my mother and grandmother had set up the old smoke-blackened
piece of a tepee for a shelter, many people came to us with food, and
we feasted together. And while we feasted, there was a big giving of
gifts until we were not poor at all. There was a tepee of buffalo hide
made double against the coldest winter and the hottest summer, and the
deeds of my father were painted on it. Our new horses were staked all
around us, whinnying with joy, and none of them was old. We all had new
buckskin dresses; my grandfather had a good gun with plenty of powder
and lead; and there was nothing lacking in the tepee that women need to
make a home. But the best gift of all was the horse I got for myself.
He was not too young, not too old either, and I called him Whirlwind
because he could run so fast. It was Looks Twice who gave the gift with
a speech that made me proud, for he was my father’s brother-friend,
and he carried my father dead out of the battle. Brother-friends do
not have the same mother and father, but they are closer than common
brothers, because they are just like one man, and if one of them is in
trouble, the other must help, even if he knows he will die. Maybe that
horse had some spirit power from my father, for sometimes when I was
riding alone, all at once I would be back in the dream that came to me
by the scaffold, and Whirlwind would be the buffalo-runner floating.”
The animated expression suddenly left the old man’s face, and for some
time he sat looking at the ground, blowing softly on his eagle-bone
whistle. A chuckle signaled his return from the remoteness of the inner
world.
“I was thinking,” he said with the crinkled look, “about stealing my
grandfather’s pipe that time; and this is how it was. I knew I had to
be a great warrior and a great hunter so that everyone would praise me,
and I had a good start already with the fawn. I thought and thought
about it. Maybe in the big hunt we were going to have I could sneak out
among the hunters when everybody was excited, and nobody would notice;
and maybe there would be a lame cow and I could kill her. Or it would
be a calf anyway, maybe one that had lost its mother in the dust. I was
not very sure about the cow; but the more I thought, the more I knew
I had to have that calf; and it came to me that I’d better get Wakon
Tonka to help me. I would dedicate a pipe to the Great Mysterious One
and make a sacred vow the way I had heard them tell real warriors did.
Then maybe I would get that calf. I was already feeding enough old
people for ten calves when it came to me that I had no pipe.
“That was when I made a mistake. I said to myself: ‘It will be all
right to take grandfather’s pipe, because I am doing this for _very_
old people who have hardly any teeth at all; and anyway he has two
pipes now.’ I did not ask for the pipe, because I knew he would not let
me have it. So I just took it when nobody was looking, and rode far out
to where there was a tall, pointed hill, standing all alone above the
little hills that sat around it.
“When I tied Whirlwind to some brush and climbed to the top, I saw
that some black clouds were coming up over towards where the sun goes
down, and it was that way I had to look when I made my offering. I did
not know just how to do it, but maybe it would be all right anyway.
So I held the pipe up and cried out in a loud voice: ‘_Tonka schla_,
Wakon Tonka! You see me here and you know I must get a calf for the old
people, because they can hardly chew. I give you this pipe, and if you
send me a calf, I will dance the sun dance, just as soon as I get big
enough.’
“When I said this, all at once there was a big thunder off
there--_boom-m-m how-ow-ow oom-m-m ow-ow!_
“I dropped the pipe and ran as fast as I could down the hill. Some of
me almost got there before I did, because I stumbled and rolled part of
the way. Then I rode home as fast as Whirlwind could go, because the
big voice sounded angry, and I was frightened.
“When I got home I did not say anything to anybody. And afterwhile
grandmother said: ‘I wonder what is wrong with our boy. He looks
queer.’ And my mother said: ‘He does look queer. Maybe he ate too
much.’ Then my grandfather looked hard at me and said: ‘Maybe he has
been smoking my pipe, for I see it is not here.’ And when he kept on
looking hard at me for a while, I had to tell him; but I did not tell
everything. I just said I took it because I had to make a vow so that
we would get plenty of meat in the hunt.
“I thought he was getting ready to be angry, he looked so hard at me.
Then he said, ‘_hm-m-m_,’ high up in his nose, and his eyes looked
as though he might be going to laugh; but he didn’t. My mother and
grandmother didn’t say anything. They just tried to look sad down their
noses.”
After chuckling awhile over the memory, the old man continued: “If I
had been a Wasichu boy, I think they would have whipped me; but Lakotas
never hurt a child. They were good in those days before the sacred hoop
was broken. It was the sacred way they lived in the hoop that made them
good and taught the children; and I will tell you how that was.
“There were seven _teoshpaiay_ [bands], seven council fires, and one of
them was my people, the Oglala. They were all Lakota and had the same
tongue, but they did not all say things in the same way, and when we
got together, sometimes we boys would mock each other, because our way
of speaking was the best. Each _teoshpaiay_ was a hoop by itself, and
could go anywhere it pleased, for it had its own tepee _okige_, the
highest tepee where its chief lived, and its own tepee _iyokihe_, the
next highest tepee, where its councilors made the laws for the people.
“When all the seven _teoshpaiay_, or most of them, came to live
together, they would camp in a great hoop, which was more sacred than
any of the smaller hoops that made it. And if there were laws to be
made for all the hoops to obey or something to decide for all of them,
then each _teoshpaiay_ would bring its council tepee to the center of
the great hoop; and with all these tepees they would make a big place
for all the councils and chiefs to meet as one, and this they called
tepee-thrown-over-together. It had no roof, only walls, because it was
not needed very long.
“And it was here that four were chosen to be chiefs above all
others--one _wichashita nacha_, who is highest, and three _nacha_, who
were next.
“Also each hoop had its own _akichita_, and they were the keepers of
all the laws. They were like relatives of the thunder beings, and
theirs was the power of lightning. Nothing could stop them; and if any
man broke a law, they took care of him, even a brother or a father. If
the chief himself broke a law, the _akichita_ could throw him out of
the tepee _okige_, and a better man would be chosen. If any should go
on a war party or a hunt when the council said, ‘no,’ the _akichita_
could whip them and cut their tepees in pieces. And if any fought the
_akichita_, they would be killed. If you broke a law, it was like
breaking the sacred hoop a little; and that was a very bad thing, for
the hoop was the life of the people all together.
“If an _akichita_ did some bad thing or did not do what he ought to
do, then the _wichasha yatapika_ could throw him out before all the
people; and it was better to die than to see shame in every face. Even
little boys could mock such a man and no one would stop them. For the
_wichasha yatapika_ [men whom all praise] were stronger at last than
all others except Wakon Tonka; and yet they did not make the laws. They
chose the chiefs and the councilors and the _akichita_ from among
themselves; and any man could become one of them, but it was not easy,
and it took a long time.
“It was like this. Maybe I am a young man and I think to myself that
I want to be a chief sometime. I don’t say anything to anybody about
this, but I know what I must do. First, I must be very brave. I have
to kill an enemy, I have to count coup so many times, and I have to
get a scalp. Nobody can say I was ever afraid. But that is only the
beginning. I must never break any laws, I must be good to everybody in
the hoop, so that afterwhile people notice this and talk about it until
everybody is saying it. And that too is only the beginning, although
it takes a long time. I must be very generous and always see that old
people and the needy have meat. I do not do this once or twice. I keep
on doing it until everybody notices and talks about it, and then I keep
on doing it.
“Maybe some old men and women are sitting around under a sun-shade
made of boughs. They are talking about the old days when everything
was better. And, afterwhile, one of them, who can see a little better
than the others, squints at a hilltop, and says: ‘A horseback is
coming over there, and he is bringing something. I wonder who it is.’
Then they all squint at the horseback coming, and when he is closer,
another one says: ‘Why, that is Gray Bear’s son, Eagle Voice, and
I think he is bringing some meat.’ Then they all cry out together,
‘_hi-yay!_’ Because people have been talking about me, and the old
ones know I will come to them first with the tenderest pieces. But if
I am somebody else, and a stingy fellow, then the old people will say,
‘_heh-heh-heh_,’ and look down their noses. And if that is what old
people say about me, I am never going to be a _wichasha yatapika_, even
if I have killed a hundred enemies.
“After people have noticed these things for a long time, even the
_wichasha yatapika_ begin to talk about me in their meetings, and at
last they say: ‘This young Eagle Voice ought to be one of us.’ So they
have a big feast and a ceremony at the center of the hoop, with all the
people sitting around. And before they take me to be one of them, the
people are asked to say any evil thing they may know about me. But all
the people cry out together, ‘_hi-yay, hi-yay_,’ and not even a jealous
one can say anything bad at all. So they make me a man whom all praise,
and before all the people they teach me what I must do, and they say I
do not belong to myself any more, but to the people. Then I take the
pipe they offer and smoke it; and that is a sacred vow.
“Now I am a _wichasha yatapika_, and I can be an _akichita_, or a
councilor, or even a chief, if I keep on being brave enough and
generous enough and good enough. It is hard to be any of these, but
it is hardest of all to be a chief, because he must be _wachin tonka_
[great minded] standing above himself, as he stands above others.
“When they make him a chief, they will say: ‘Maybe your favorite dog
will come home with an arrow in him. You will not be angry, but hold
fast to your pipe and remember the laws. Maybe some mangy dog will
water your tepee in the dark [malicious gossip]. You will have neither
eyes nor ears, but you will look into your heart, and go ahead. If
anything you have is better for another than for you, it will be his.
You do not belong to yourself.’
“I will tell you a little story to show how it was in the old days
before the sacred hoop was broken. Once there was a great chief, a
_wichashita nacha_, and although he was still strong like a bear, he
was not young any more; and the people listened to his words for he was
wise. This old chief had taken a young woman who was very good to see,
and he was so fond of her that people talked about it and smiled behind
their hands; but they felt kind when they smiled. And I think the young
woman liked the chief because he was so good to her, but maybe she was
only proud because his power was so great. And afterwhile there was a
young warrior who was very brave, and also very good to see; and these
two looked upon each other until they could see nothing else at all. So
they ran away together far from the village; and the people talked and
talked, wondering what the chief would do. And this is what he did.