stranger, at first, for I was not a young man any more, and they did
not know me. It was not good. Red Cloud living in a square Wasichu
tepee made of wood. _Akichita_ wearing the blue coats of the Wasichu.
All the people waiting for Wasichu food, like hungry dogs, and talking
about the Wanekia. Some said he was coming right away, like a whirlwind
across the prairie. No more Wasichus. The good days coming back
and all the buffalo. I did not believe it. I thought they were all
_witko_. There was a big ache in my breast and I wanted to go back to
Grandmother’s Land; but when I thought I would go, the ache got bigger.
Then Pahuska came. You know Pahuska?”
“Everybody knew him, Grandfather,” I said. “We called him Buffalo Bill.
He was a great Wasichu chief, great hunter, great warrior. And you went
with his big show to Paris.”
“Ah,” the old man agreed. “It is so. Pars, Pars; it is what they called
that country. It is so. He wanted Lakota warriors to ride and play war
and dance, so that the strange people across the great water could
see. He would give us _maza ska_ [white metal, money] to do this. When
I heard about the great water and the strange peoples yonder at the
sunrise, I knew I must go, for it was what she told me before she went
home.
“The Wasichus had made another iron road along the Minitonka
[Niobrara]. It was the way Wooden Cup said before my grandfather was
born. A strange people would come from the sunrise, too many to be
counted. They would kill all the bison and take the land and bind it
with iron bands. I was going to see where all the Wasichus came from.
We started for the sunrise on this iron road, and went faster than
our horses could run. I was afraid, but I held on tight and looked at
the land I knew since I was a boy. It was running away, and the hills
looked scared. After a while it was dark, and I slept. Then I awoke
and there was a big moon outside. The land was still running away.
The wagon under me was jumping fast and crying, ‘_yea-hay, yea-hay,
yea-hay_,’ like warriors fleeing from too many enemies; and I could
hear the iron horse running and snorting and puffing all out of breath.
Sometimes he screamed like a war-pony shot in the guts. I held on
tight, and the morning came.
“Then I saw the Mini Shoshay [Missouri River], and there was a big
Wasichu village [Omaha], bigger than all the Lakotas camped in one
hoop. Then there were more iron roads in a land I never saw before, and
Wasichu villages--many, many. And the iron horse went on running as
fast as before, snorting and puffing all out of breath and screaming.
“I wanted to go back, but I could not. Afterwhile I got used to it,
but my heart was not strong in me. When I was a boy we used to say
that some time we would kill all the Wasichus; but now I knew there
were more of them than grasshoppers. When Red Cloud went to see the
Great Father, and we heard the big stories he told about the Wasichus
and their villages yonder where the sun rises, we did not believe. We
said he turned into a Wasichu when he put on their clothing, and his
tongue was forked like theirs. But I could see his words were straight.
And when we came to the biggest village of all where the great water
begins [New York], I knew his stories were not big enough. Wasichus!
Wasichus! They came crowding like a bison herd to look and look at us
when we got on the big _peyta watah_ [fire-boat] that was there.
“I cannot tell how big this _watah_ was. They put all the horses and
tepees and wagons in its belly; and the fire that made it go was in
there too. When it started for the sunrise with us, it bellowed like
bison bulls sending forth voices together when they paw the young grass
and tear it with their horns. I saw the land begin to move. It did not
run away fast. It floated away, and afterwhile it was all gone, and
there was the great water to the sky. It was sleeping and breathing,
up and down, up and down. I got sick, and I was afraid. Maybe I would
die. I remembered what old men said, ‘It is not good to grow old.’ But
I wore the quirt down my back, and you see I am alive yet.
“Twelve sleeps--water, water, water! Twelve sleeps! When the winds
were asleep and the sun was showing, it was a flat blue prairie with
no grass. Maybe it was like the prairie where the star nations live,
and the sister in the story I told you fell through it! But no turnips
on this prairie! The _peyta watah_ shook itself and breathed hard, and
smoke came out of its belly; but it did not move. The sun moved and the
stars, and the sunrise was no nearer.
“The Thunder Beings came with lightning and a great wind that howled,
and the flat blue prairie changed into dark hills that grew tall and
fell, grew tall and fell. I was more afraid than I ever was before.
All of us were afraid and the horses too. Sometimes I could hear them
scream in the _watah’s_ belly. I was not afraid to die in a battle with
enemies I could kill. But there was no enemy to fight. Maybe the quirt
could not help me. If I died there in the great water, maybe I could
not find the way to the spirit land, and I would be lost always in the
dark hills. That is what made me afraid. If I died in the hills of
water, maybe I could never find my relatives again. But I had my pipe
with me, and I remembered what my father said with the voice of the
eagle in my vision, ‘Hold fast to your pipe, for there is more.’ So I
held fast to my pipe. Also, Pahuska was like a father to us. He laughed
and told us to be brave. He had a strong heart.
“We came to where the hills were smaller and the winds were asleep.
Then we saw the sun again and the blue prairie; and the strange land
came floating to us out of the sunrise.”
XXVIII
_In the Village Called Pars_
“There was another iron road,” the old man continued after a period of
silence, “and we came to the village they called Pars. This village was
so big that we could never see how big it was, and the tepees were made
of stone. The Wasichus there could not be counted. They piled tepees on
top of tepees and climbed up there so that they could have places to
live. These places were full of people, all looking out like prairie
dogs from their holes. There were big roads and little roads going
everywhere in this village, and the people and the horses and wagons
were always going everywhere with much noise and many cries. I do not
know what they were doing.
“Pahuska wanted the people to see us, so he led us all on a big road
made of stone where there were tall trees and green grass; and there
the people came crowding like a bison herd to look at us. Pahuska went
first, and he was riding a big white horse. He did not look like other
Wasichus. His hair was long like a Lakota’s, but it was not braided and
it was yellow. Also his clothing was made of buckskin. We followed him
on our ponies, riding two together, and we were painted and dressed
as for victory and our ponies were painted too. And after us were
_iglakas_ with their pony-drags. And after them there were Wasichu
horsebacks with lariats on their saddles, riding two together. Then
there were Wasichu wagons with tepee tops on them, and other wagons
with four horses pulling them and people riding on top and inside. And
there were horseback soldiers, and they were riding two and two.
“I think the people liked the Lakotas best of all. When we knew they
were not enemies and were glad to see us, we were glad too, and we
began singing a riding song all together. It was the way young warriors
would do when they were going somewhere and there were no enemies
around. When we stopped singing, the herd of people roared and crowded
in to us, shouting and reaching up to touch us. A young woman took hold
of my arm, but some horsebacks came and pushed the people back. These
horsebacks looked like soldiers, but I think they were _akichitas_.
“When we started riding through this green place with the tall trees, I
could see where water was coming up out of the ground, many streams of
water rising and falling. I do not know what it was. I have heard there
is shooting water like that over in Shoshoni country, but I never saw
it.
“Afterwhile we came to a great high stone with a big hole in it, and
we all rode through this hole. From that place I could see roads that
led to the four quarters of the world. The stone was standing where the
Sacred Tree should grow and bloom, the way Blue Spotted Horse told me
when I was a boy. I wondered much about this. Maybe these Wasichus had
the sacred hoop too; and maybe the Wasichus back home across the great
water had forgotten about the hoop and so were not good any more. Maybe
that was why Grandmother England’s soldiers did not chase us when we
fled to Grandmother’s Land. Maybe they had the hoop too. That is what I
thought then, but now I do not believe it.
“There was a place where all these people came in a herd to see us
twice nearly every day. It was a little round flat valley with a steep
hill all around it, and on this hill the people sat to see, and roared
when they saw.
“Pahuska would ride into the middle of the round flat valley and make
his tall white horse stand on its hind legs. Then he would take his big
hat off and wave it at the people on the hill all around him; and the
hill would roar. Sometimes he would throw shining balls into the air,
and he would shoot at them, and always they would break. The people
liked him, but I think they liked us more. We did many things the way
we used to do at home. Sometimes we would dance and sing. Sometimes we
would attack Wasichu wagons, going up Shell River [Platte], maybe, or
maybe up the road to Pa Sapa. Or we would chase the other kind of wagon
with people sitting on top and inside and four running horses pulling
it [stage coach]. There would be shouting and war-cries and a great
dust of hoofs, and many guns going off; but there were no bullets in
the guns. Some of us would get killed and roll in the dust, and our
brothers would ride by and lean to pick us up and take us out of the
fight. We did many things, and always a roaring wind blew across the
hill of people when they saw. It was fun; and sometimes when we were
alone together and the dead ones were alive again, we would laugh about
it.
“We stayed there while moons came and went, and always the hill of
people was there to see us and roar.
“_Washtay!_ It was good! Pahuska had a strong heart and he was like a
father. He gave us plenty of fat _papa_, all we could eat; and there
was plenty of _paezhuta sapa_ [black medicine, coffee] with plenty of
_chun humpi_ [tree juice, sugar] to put in it.”
The old man ceased and fell to brooding. “_Dho!_” he said at long last,
slowly fixing his crinkled look upon me. “It was the same young Wasichu
woman. When Pahuska led us through the place of grass and trees to show
us to the people, it was the same young woman who came crowding with
the other Wasichus and took hold of my arm. She looked up at me then
and I saw her face, but the horseback _akichitas_ came and pushed the
people back. I wondered about this, and sometimes I would think about
her face and the way she looked up at me. Then I wanted to see her
again. I am wearing the white war bonnet now, and it is thin. My teeth
are uprooted and I am bent so that I am not even as tall as you, my
grandson. But then I was straight and tall and strong, and maybe I was
good-looking. Also I was a good dancer.
“It was the time when leaves would be falling in my country; and when
I thought about this I would feel sad, because it was far across the
dark hills of water. It was in the night when she came back. Some of us
Lakotas were standing outside, for it was not our time to play war in
there. Sometimes we heard the hill of people roar. There was a light
that flickered in a cage where we were, and Wasichus came close to look
at us. They would look and look, and we were making jokes about them,
but they did not know it because we made our faces stone. Sometimes
we would growl and the people near us would push back, and we would
look angry, but we were laughing inside. They were funny, the way they
looked and looked and peeked around each other to see us.
“She came out of the shadow. One of her hands was on my naked arm and
one upon my naked breast--thin white hands--and she was looking up at
me.”
The old man ceased again and gazed awhile upon the ground with
half-closed eyes. “Leaves were falling at home,” he said in a low
voice, still looking at the ground. Then, raising his eyes and fixing
upon me a squinting gaze that had a question in it, he continued. “She
had much hair. Sometimes I think about it yet, and I see a bright cloud
when the sky is white in the morning and the sun is just beginning to
come. Her look was soft and kind. There was a power that went through
me from her hands. Sometimes when I think about this, I remember when I
was a boy and Blue Spotted Horse gave me the sacred pipe to touch, and
the power went through me.”
Again the old man paused, and the focus of his gaze fell beyond me.
“If it was good or bad,” he continued, “I do not know. It is far away
and I am old; but sometimes when I think about it, I am a boy in the
night and the moon makes him want to sing, but something is afraid in
the shadows. She pulled me with her look and with her white hands. I
went into the dark with her. There was laughing and there were voices
back there, but they were far away, far as across the hills of water.
“Out in the dark was a little wagon with two wheels, and one horse
pulled it. These were always going up and down the many roads in that
village, and a man sat high on top to make the horse go. We got in
there and the whip popped and we went fast. Her mouth was on my face;
her hair was on my eyes; her hands were about my neck. I did not know
what she was saying again and again, but it was like singing; and I
could smell young grass when rain has fallen and the sun comes out.
“There was a place where two dark roads crossed, but some little fires
burned in cages on poles and made shadows. That is where we got out
of the wagon, and the man on top laughed and popped his whip and went
away. We climbed twice to where she lived and we were alone in that
high place.”
The old man ceased and began fumbling in his long tobacco sack. When he
had prepared the pipe with more than necessary attention to detail, he
lit it and blew a cloud.
“Three suns, three sleeps my heart sang there,” he continued, handing
me the pipe. “My heart sang and I thought she would go back with me and
be my woman always. We would go to Grandmother’s Land where I could
kill plenty of good meat for her, and she would learn to tan buckskin
very soft, and make clothing and moccasins beautiful with beads and
porcupine quills. Also, there would be children and grandchildren. This
is what I thought when my heart was singing, but I could not tell her,
for my tongue was strange to her and hers was strange to me.
“It was in the fourth sleep that she came back to me, all the way
across the dark hills of water.”
“Who came?” I asked.
“Plenty White Cows came back while I slept,” he said, “the same way
she came before I left Grandmother’s Land. Plums were red in the brush
behind her and plums were red in a fold of her blanket. She was looking
at me and her eyes were sad. Then a wind came moaning through the brush
and she drew her blanket over her face, and there was a shadow that hid
her. But when the shadow passed, the blanket was open about her face,
and it was Tashina, and she was crying. I could see tears on her face
and hear her crying like a little girl far away, but she did not look
at me.
“Then all at once it was dark and I was awake in that strange place. I
was afraid of something and my heart was sick. I do not know what I was
afraid of. I could hear the woman sleeping, and the dark was still. I
listened and listened, and there was nothing. In battle my heart sang,
and I was not afraid. But in that still dark place I feared more and
more and I could not stay.
“So I got up without making a noise, and walked softly. I felt for
the little handle that turned. It clicked loud when I turned it, but
nothing heard. I went out where a thin little fire was burning on a
stick, and I went down and down, walking softly. There was another
little handle that turned to let me out. When I was in the road
outside, where the lights flickered in their cages, I ran. Some people
came out of the shadows and yelled at me, but I did not stop.
“Then four _akichitas_ came running out of the shadows and took hold of
my arms. These men were not big and they were not angry. They patted me
on the back and made soft sounds and kept saying, ‘Bufflo Beel, Bufflo
Beel.’ And I said ‘Ah, _kola_, it is so,’ for I knew they meant Pahuska.
“I was glad to go with these Wasichu friends, for I was lost in that
village of many roads. They took me to a place and two of them stayed
with me. They made soft sounds and wagged their heads up and down and
said, ‘Bufflo Beel, Bufflo Beel,’ and I knew they were friends. We
stayed in that place until it was morning, and then they took me to
Pahuska.
“He was not angry. He slapped me on the back and laughed like a big
wind. I do not know why he did this, for my heart was sick. My heart
was sick for home.
“I did not want to play war any more. I did not want to eat. The dream
would not go away. I thought and thought about it and about my country
many sleeps across the dark hills of water. I wanted to die, but there
was no enemy to kill me; and I thought if I got weaker and weaker and
died, maybe I could not find the way back to my relatives. I wondered
how she found the way to me. Maybe it was her _yuwipi_ power that
helped her, and maybe I would be lost always out there.
“Then Pahuska said he would send me home, for he was like a father. Two
others were going back, and one of these knew the Wasichu tongue, so we
went together.
“Then, after many sleeps, I was here again.”
XXIX
_The Girl’s Road_
When I returned from the woodpile, the old man sat with closed eyes,
listening to the random plaintive sounds he was making with his
eagle-bone whistle. I fed the stove against the snow-chill that had
begun to creep into the tepee. The wind had ceased and the listening
world outside was filled with whispering flakes that clad the hills in
gauze.
“You walked across the world,” I said, “and then you found the road at
last?”
Emerging slowly from his meditation and ignoring my question, he began.
“Looks Twice and my mother had come from Grandmother’s Land. My
grandfather and grandmother wanted to come home to their people,
for they were very old and they did not want to die up there. So my
step-father brought them back. They were all living in a little gray
house of logs yonder on White Horse Creek, and I went to live with
them. Winter was coming, and people were talking about the Wanekia
[Messiah]. Some believed, and some said it was all foolishness. Looks
Twice and my mother did not believe yet and I did not believe either;
but my grandfather and grandmother said maybe it was true.
“I heard that Kicking Bear had gone with Good Thunder and some others
to see the Wanekia far away where the sun sets and a people they called
the Paiutes lived. They would come back with the young grass, and then,
some said, we would know that it was all true. But others said it was a
long way yonder, and stories that traveled far always got bigger. I did
not care much about the Wanekia; but I wanted to see Kicking Bear again
and talk about the things we used to do together before the hoop was
broken. We could remember the time we got all those Crow horses, and we
could talk about High Horse and Charging Cat; and maybe we would laugh
about the way the fat old woman bounced on her pony-drag.
“It was a hard winter with much snow, and there was not much to eat.
There was nothing to hunt, and the Great White Father did not send
all the cattle he promised. Sometimes I could kill a jack rabbit. The
people grew angry and many were sick. I thought about the dream that
came to me across the great water. Maybe this was why Plenty White Cows
did not look at me in the dream and Tashina was crying. I remembered
what Plenty White Cows told me before she went to her parents in the
spirit world. I would go across a great water, and when I came back I
would find the little girl she heard crying far away. I was back from
across the great water, and there was only hunger and sickness.
“Afterwhile the snow melted and the young grasses appeared. Then
Kicking Bear and the others came back. There was a big meeting at No
Water’s camp on White Clay Creek, and we went there to hear. Before
the talking began I saw Kicking Bear, and it made my heart sing to
see him again. He was older, but I knew him. So I went to him, and I
think he did not know me. He looked hard at me and his eyes looked
angry. I said, ‘Cousin, I am Eagle Voice. Do you remember High Horse
and Charging Cat and all those Crow horses we got that time? And do you
remember the fat old woman, how she bounced when her pony ran away?’ I
made a laugh, for I thought he would remember and laugh too. He just
looked hard at me like a stranger. His eyes were cold, his face was
sharp. Then he cried out, ‘_Believe! Believe! For those who do not
believe shall be lost!_’ And he went away.
“My heart was sick, for nothing was the same any more. I heard all they
said at the meeting, and many, many were there to hear. The Wanekia
would come like a whirlwind. Then all the Wasichus would disappear
like a smoke. The earth would be made new and green forever and all
the spirits would come from the other world and be alive here again.
And with these the bison would return and the people would be happy
together under a blue, blue sky; and there would be no crying any more,
no hunger or sickness, no growing old or dying. A long while ago this
same Wanekia came to the Wasichus, and they killed him. This time he
would come to us, and we would know him. This is what we heard.
“The man they saw yonder where the sun sets was a Paiute and his name
was Wovoka. He had died and gone to the other world a little while.
There he had seen the Wanekia and talked to him; and when this Wovoka
came back to our world here, he had to tell all the people everywhere,
so that they would be ready. The Wanekia had given a sacred dance and
sacred songs for the people to learn, and these would bring the new
heaven and the new earth. This would happen after one more winter when
the young grasses came again.
“I think most of those who heard, believed. Red Cloud was there, and
he believed too. My step-father and my mother and my grandparents
believed, but I was not sure. Maybe I was thinking how Kicking Bear
looked at me. Also, I had gone across the world and back. It was so big
and there were so many, many Wasichus. I wondered how one Wanekia could
rub them all out and make the world new.
“After the big meeting, the people began dancing the sacred dance and
singing the sacred songs. They held hands and made a hoop as they
danced and sang, and at the center of the hoop there stood the _chun
wakon_ [sacred tree]. It was like the sacred hoop that Blue Spotted
Horse told me about when I was a boy going on vision quest, and the
tree at the center should fill with leaves and blooms and singing
birds. But the tree was dead and the few leaves on top were dry.
“People danced and danced, singing to the Father who would come. And
afterwhile some of them would fall down and lie dead a long while. And
when these came alive again, they would tell of the spirit world where
they had been and of the dear ones they saw yonder. My grandmother saw
my father and he was young and happy and they talked together. And when
she told us, her face was all bright and she was so glad that she cried
and cried.
“Many saw people I used to know, and what they told seemed true.
Afterwhile I began to think maybe this was the way the sacred hoop
would be mended; and my grandmother told me I ought to help the people.
So I danced, and sang the sacred songs to the Father who should come.
But while I danced I would think about the sun dance in the good days
before the hoop was broken, and how the people feasted together then
and were happy and there was no crying. Now there was little to eat
and much crying, and only the spirit world was happy. I did not see
anything, and my heart was sick.
“The Agent told the people to stop dancing, but they would not; and in
the Moon of Falling Leaves [November] we heard that the soldiers were
coming to stop us. So the people fled north to the Top of the Badlands
[Cuny Table], and I went with them. It would be hard for the soldiers
to come to us there, and we did not want to fight them. The people said
we could dance there until the Wanekia came, and then there would be no
soldiers any more. The young men found some Wasichu cattle and these
they took so that the people could eat.
“Kicking Bear was there and he was the big man in the teaching of the
people; but he was a stranger. Sometimes I thought only his body was
in this world, and sometimes I wondered if he was _witko_. Afterwhile
he left us and went to Sitting Bull’s camp on Grand River to start the
dancing there.