AN AGED INDIAN’S STORY.
To the mysterious maid of the Castle Rock, Buffalo Bill and his pards
owed their escape from a long, hard flight or a desperate fight with
a strong war party of Cheyennes. They reached the river at the point
indicated by the girl, and by crossing and galloping away behind the
timber growth along the bank, escaped the sharp eyes of the savages.
But the scout and his pards were not to pass the day without its quota
of excitement.
It was past midday when the party rode around a bend in the river and
came upon a child crying bitterly. It was an Indian girl, and when they
came upon her so suddenly she was terrified. She expected to be put to
torture, evidently.
Buffalo Bill dismounted and spoke kindly to the child. She could speak
no English, but the scout caught the Sioux tongue and learned that she
lived alone with an old Indian who was ill and unable to hunt, and they
were starving.
The scout asked the child to lead the way to her companion, which she
at first refused to do, fearing that the white warriors would kill him.
Buffalo Bill assured her that he would give them food, and perhaps he
could cure the sick man.
She at last led the way into a dense thicket by the river bank where a
rude tepee had been erected, and inside they found an aged Indian whose
eyes glared defiantly at the white scout.
“How,” said Buffalo Bill.
The Indian grunted, then asked:
“Why come see red man die?”
“We came so you would not die; we bring food for you and the papoose.”
“What does the white man want?” demanded the Indian, somewhat mollified
by the promise of food.
“Nothing, but to aid the red brother, who is sick.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Sioux incredulously.
The child was chewing pemmican now, taken from the haversack of Wild
Bill, and the sight of it seemed to soften the old Indian.
Buffalo Bill now went outside and with Wild Bill and Skibo began
preparing their own evening meal, while Nomad, Cayuse, and the boy kept
watch against surprise.
Over the fire some of the pemmican was simmered until a sweet, warm
broth was made and well seasoned with pepper, which appeals to the
Indian taste, and a dipperful taken to the old Indian. As he sipped it
the fire died out of his eyes and he said gratefully to the scout:
“Long Hair heap kind; old Indian no good: lost um medicine; banished;
tribe go away; only papoose left.”
“Did your tribe once live here?”
“Wuh.”
“Do they never come here now?”
The old Indian shook his head sadly. “Never look here now. Long Hair no
watchum; Sioux no come.”
“Why were you banished?”
“Lost um medicine; too old hunt; left um die with papoose. Old squaw
die, young find um young chief, likeum better, no work for Black
Coyote.”
It was a tragedy of the children of the plain, but rendered doubly so
by the abandonment of this little child to starve when the old Indian
should fail to provide food.
Buffalo Bill was puzzled. To leave this pair to the fate which must
soon overtake them, even if he provided food for the present, was
manifestly inhuman. To take them with him to Fort Phil Kearney seemed
impossible, owing to the infirm condition of the old man; neither could
he bear to separate the pair, each of which was all the other had.
“How far to Fort Kearney?” he asked of the Indian.
“One sun walk.”
“Do they know Black Coyote there?”
“Wuh.”
“How far to sacred mountain where the moon child lives?” asked the
scout abruptly.
“What Long Hair know?” asked the Indian, without change of countenance.
“I know she is there; I have seen her and talked with her--what does
Black Coyote know?”
“Know heap: dare not tell; queen of stars keep Black Coyote out happy
hunting ground.”
“The queen of the stars,” said the scout, “is a woman. She is tender
and would have pity for the Indian baby. She will shut Black Coyote out
of the happy hunting ground if he lets the papoose starve.”
The Indian hesitated. The scout had placed the matter in a new light.
“Would Long Hair tell the pale queen of the stars about papoose?”
“Yes, Black Coyote will tell Long Hair about the moon girl.”
After a time, when the fire had died down and the scout’s pards were
silently smoking in camp near by, and the child had gone to sleep in
the tepee, its hunger satisfied--while Buffalo Bill and the aged Indian
were sitting alone in the darkness, the latter told the story of the
“queen of the stars,” the “child of the moon.”
In substance it was that years before a little child had been stolen
by a band of Kiowas who had murdered her parents. Later the chief who
had the child became alarmed, because of persistent inquiries by the
government agent, who suspected him and threatened to cut off his
allowance from the government, and sold the little yellow-haired girl
to a Cheyenne warrior for two ponies.
The Cheyenne a year later sold the child to a Sioux chief for five
ponies, and the tribe soon discovered supernatural attributes. With the
colored figments of the squaws the child made pictures that “deceived
the eye” and sang in a way that charmed the great chiefs of the tribe.
And then one day, with a white woman who had long been a prisoner, the
child walked out of camp and defied all the warriors to detain them.
She pointed to the moon and said she was its child and came to watch
over the red men and they must not dispute her. She pointed her finger
at the medicine man, looked sternly at him and walked toward him. He
shrank before her.
The old Indian told how the child, followed by the woman, went to the
mountain and knocked with a stick upon its side, and the mountain
opened and swallowed up both child and woman, and closed again.
Next evening the child was heard singing in a voice that hushed the
universe, and when the people of the tribe drew near they saw her
walking on the very top of the mountain and pointing to the stars.
Again she told them she was daughter of the moon and queen of the
stars, and sang to them.
The Indians left rich offerings of food and blankets before the rocks
that had swallowed up the girl and woman.
Thereafter when the new moon appeared other offerings of food and
blankets were made, and the custom had continued until it became a
tribal law.
The story of the child spread to other tribes, particularly to the
Cheyennes who had sold her to the Sioux. The Cheyennes made long
pilgrimages each year to make offerings, swear allegiance and hear the
sweet voice of the child once held by their tribe.
From the Cheyennes the Kiowas learned of the child’s power, and they,
too, came to pay tribute each year.
The aged red man became flowery and eloquent as he described the beauty
of the young woman who dazzled the sun with the light of her face, and
those who saw her smile carried happiness ever after. She walked alone
in the forest, and great bears and bull buffaloes lay down for her in
mute homage. Her touch soothed the hottest fever, and if the red man
must not live any longer she asked of the gods that he die happily and
enter the happy hunting grounds.
This young woman came and went among the red folk and her word was law
and her slightest wish was granted.
“What became of the white woman who went away with the child?” asked
Buffalo Bill.
“Injun no see um again: all same fly ’way to people where come,” the
Indian had replied solemnly.
The scout terminated his interview, promising to leave food enough for
the old Indian and child until he could come again. He must first go
to the fort, but might soon return and would visit the daughter of the
moon.
Next morning with Hickok the scout set out and soon returned each with
an antelope. These were left to supply the old man and child until they
came back. They also left tea and tobacco.