A great while ago the Shawanos nation took up the war-talk against the
Walkullas, who lived on their own lands on the borders of the Great
Salt Lake, and near the Burning Water. Part of the nation were not
well pleased with the war. The head chief and the counsellors said the
Walkullas were very brave and cunning, and the priests said their god
was mightier than ours. The old and experienced warriors said the
counsellors were wise, and had spoken well; but the Head Buffalo, the
young warriors, and all who wished for war, would not listen to their
words. They said that our fathers had beaten their fathers in many
battles, that the Shawanos were as brave and strong as they ever were,
and the Walkullas much weaker and more cowardly. They said the old and
timid, the faint heart and the failing knee, might stay at home to
take care of the women and children, and sleep and dream of those who
had never dared bend a bow or look upon a painted cheek or listen to a
war-whoop, while the young warriors went to war and drank much blood.
When two moons were gone they said they would come back with many
prisoners and scalps, and have a great feast. The arguments of the
fiery young men prevailed with all the youthful warriors, but the
elder and wiser listened to the priests and counsellors, and remained
in their villages to see the leaf fall and the grass grow, and to
gather in the nut and follow the trail of the deer.
Two moons passed, then a third, then came the night enlivened by many
stars, but the warriors returned not. As the land of the Walkullas lay
but a woman's journey of six suns from the villages of our nation, our
people began to fear that our young men had been overcome in battle
and were all slain. The head chief, the counsellors, and all the
warriors who had remained behind, came together in the great wigwam,
and called the priests to tell them where their sons were. Chenos, who
was the wisest of them all (as well he might be, for he was older than
the oak-tree whose top dies by the hand of Time), answered that they
were killed by their enemies, the Walkullas, assisted by men of a
strange speech and colour, who lived beyond the Great Salt Lake,
fought with thunder and lightning, and came to our enemies on the back
of a great bird with many white wings. When he had thus made known to
our people the fate of the warriors there was a dreadful shout of
horror throughout the village. The women wept aloud, and the men
sprang up and seized their bows and arrows to go to war with the
Walkullas and the strange warriors who had helped to slay their sons,
but Chenos bade them sit down again.
"There is one yet living," said he. "He will soon be here. The sound
of his footsteps is in my ear as he crosses the hollow hills. He has
killed many of his enemies; he has glutted his vengeance fully; he has
drunk blood in plenteous draughts. Long he fought with the men of his
own race, and many fell before him, but he fled from the men who came
to the battle armed with the real lightning, and hurling unseen death.
Even now I see him coming; the shallow streams he has forded; the deep
rivers he has swum. He is tired and hungry, and his quiver has no
arrows, but he brings a prisoner in his arms. Lay the deer's flesh on
the fire, and bring hither the pounded corn. Taunt him not, for he is
valiant, and has fought like a hungry bear."
As the wise Chenos spoke these words to the grey-bearded counsellors
and warriors the Head Buffalo walked calm and cool into the midst of
them. There he stood, tall and straight as a young pine, but he spoke
no word, looking on the head chief and the counsellors. There was
blood upon his body, dried on by the sun, and the arm next his heart
was bound up with the skin of the deer. His eye was hollow and his
body gaunt, as though he had fasted long. His quiver held no arrows.
"Where are our sons?" inquired the head chief of the warrior.
"Ask the wolf and the panther," he answered.
"Brother! tell us where are our sons!" exclaimed the chief. "Our
women ask us for their sons. They want them. Where are they?"
"Where are the snows of last year?" replied the warrior. "Have they
not gone down the swelling river into the Great Lake? They have, and
even so have your sons descended the stream of Time into the great
Lake of Death. The great star sees them as they lie by the water of
the Walkulla, but they see him not. The panther and the wolf howl
unheeded at their feet, and the eagle screams, but they hear them not.
The vulture whets his beak on their bones, the wild-cat rends their
flesh, both are unfelt, for your sons are dead."
When the warrior told these things to our people, they set up their
loud death-howl. The women wept; but the men sprang up and seized
their weapons, to go to meet the Walkullas, the slayers of their sons.
The chief warrior rose again--
"Fathers and warriors," said he, "hear me and believe my words, for I
will tell you the truth. Who ever heard the Head Buffalo lie, and who
ever saw him afraid of his enemies? Never, since the time that he
chewed the bitter root and put on the new moccasins, has he lied or
fled from his foes. He has neither a forked tongue nor a faint heart.
Fathers, the Walkullas are weaker than us. Their arms are not so
strong, their hearts are not so big, as ours. As well might the timid
deer make war upon the hungry wolf, as the Walkullas upon the
Shawanos. We could slay them as easily as a hawk pounces into a dove's
nest and steals away her unfeathered little ones. The Head Buffalo
alone could have taken the scalps of half the nation. But a strange
tribe has come among them--men whose skin is white as the folds of the
cloud, and whose hair shines like the great star of day. They do not
fight as we fight, with bows and arrows and with war-axes, but with
spears which thunder and lighten, and send unseen death. The Shawanos
fall before it as the berries and acorns fall when the forest is
shaken by the wind in the beaver-moon. Look at the arm nearest my
heart. It was stricken by a bolt from the strangers' thunder; but he
fell by the hands of the Head Buffalo, who fears nothing but shame,
and his scalp lies at the feet of the head chief.
"Fathers, this was our battle. We came upon the Walkullas, I and my
brothers, when they were unprepared. They were just going to hold the
dance of the green corn. The whole nation had come to the dance; there
were none left behind save the sick and the very old. None were
painted; they were all for peace, and were as women. We crept close to
them, and hid in the thick bushes which grew upon the edge of their
camp, for the Shawanos are the cunning adder and not the foolish
rattlesnake. We saw them preparing to offer a sacrifice to the Great
Spirit. We saw them clean the deer, and hang his head, horns, and
entrails upon the great white pole with a forked top, which stood over
the roof of the council wigwam. They did not know that the Master of
Life had sent the Shawanos to mix blood with the sacrifices. We saw
them take the new corn and rub it upon their hands, breasts, and
faces. Then the head chief, having first thanked the Master of Life
for his goodness to the Walkullas, got up and gave his brethren a
talk. He told them that the Great Spirit loved them, and had made them
victorious over all their enemies; that he had sent a great many fat
bears, deer, and moose to their hunting-ground, and had given them
fish, whose heads were very small and bodies very big; that he had
made their corn grow tall and sweet, and had ordered his suns to ripen
it in the beginning of the harvest moon, that they might make a great
feast for the strangers who had come from a far country on the wings
of a great bird to warm themselves at the Walkullas' fire. He told
them they must love the Great Spirit, take care of the old men, tell
no lies, and never break the faith of the pipe of peace; that they
must not harm the strangers, for they were their brothers, but must
live in peace with them, and give them lands and wives from among
their women. If they did these things the Great Spirit, he said, would
make their corn grow taller than ever, and direct them to
hunting-grounds where the moose should be as thick as the stars.
"Fathers and warriors, we heard these words; but we knew not what to
do. We feared not the Walkullas; the God of War, we saw, had given
them into our hands. But who were the strange tribe? Were they armed
as we were, and was their Great Medicine (Great Spirit) like ours?
Warriors, you all knew the Young Eagle, the son of the Old Eagle, who
is here with us; but his wings are feeble, he flies no more to the
field of blood. The Young Eagle feared nothing but shame, and he
said--
"'I see many men sit round a fire, I will go and see who they are!'
"He went. The Old Eagle looks at me as if he would say, 'Why went not
the chief warrior himself?' I will tell you. The Head Buffalo is a
head taller than the tallest man of his tribe. Can the moose crawl
into the fox's hole? Can the swan hide himself under a little leaf?
The Young Eagle was little, save in his soul. He was not full-grown,
save in his heart. He could go and not be seen or heard. He was the
cunning black-snake which creeps silently in the grass, and none
thinks him near till he strikes.
"He came back and told us there were many strange men a little way
before us whose faces were white, and who wore no skins, whose cabins
were white as the snow upon the Backbone of the Great Spirit (the
Alleghany Mountains), flat at the top, and moving with the wind like
the reeds on the bank of a river; that they did not talk like the
Walkullas, but spoke a strange tongue, the like of which he had never
heard before. Many of our warriors would have turned back to our own
lands. The Flying Squirrel said it was not cowardice to do so; but the
Head Buffalo never turns till he has tasted the blood of his foes. The
Young Eagle said he had eaten the bitter root and put on the new
moccasins, and had been made a man, and his father and the warriors
would cry shame on him if he took no scalp. Both he and the Head
Buffalo said they would go and attack the Walkullas and their friends
alone. The young warriors then said they would also go to the battle,
and with a great heart, as their fathers had done. Then the Shawanos
rushed upon their foes.
"The Walkullas fell before us like rain in the summer months. We were
as a fire among rushes. We went upon them when they were unprepared,
when they were as children; and for a while the Great Spirit gave them
into our hands. But a power rose up against us that we could not
withstand. The strange men came upon us armed with thunder and
lightning. Why delays my tongue to tell its story? Fathers, your sons
have fallen like the leaves of a forest-tree in a high wind, like the
flowers of spring after a frost, like drops of rain in the sturgeon
moon! Warriors, the sprouts which sprang up from the withered oaks
have perished, the young braves of our nation lie food for the eagle
and the wild-cat by the arm of the Great Lake!
"Fathers, the bolt from the strangers' thunder entered my flesh, yet I
did not fly. These six scalps I tore from the Walkullas, but this has
yellow hair. Have I done well?"
The head chief and the counsellors answered he had done very well, but
Chenos answered--
"No. You went into the Walkullas' camp when the tribe were feasting
to the Great Spirit, and you disturbed the sacrifice, and mixed human
blood with it. Therefore has this evil come upon us, for the Great
Spirit is very angry."
Then the head chief and the counsellors asked Chenos what must be done
to appease the Master of Breath.