The Mills of Savage Gods.
"Thar might, of course, be romances in the West," observed the Old
Cattleman, reflectively, in response to my question, "but the folks
ain't got no time. Romance that a-way demands leesure, an' a party has
to be more or less idlin' about to get what you-all might style
romantic action. Take that warjig whereof I recently relates an'
wherein this yere Wild Bill Hickox wipes out the McCandlas gang--six to
his Colt's, four to his bowie, an' one to his Hawkins rifle; eleven in
all--I asks him myse'f later when he's able to talk, don't he regyard
the eepisode as some romantic. An' Bill says, 'No, I don't notice no
romance tharin; what impresses me most is that she's shore a zealous
fight--also, mighty busy.'
"Injuns would be romantic, only they're so plumb ignorant they never
once saveys. Thar's no Injun word for 'romantic'; them benighted
savages never tumblin' to sech a thing as romance bein' possible. An'
yet said aborigines engages in plays which a eddicated Eastern taste
with leesure on its hands an' gropin' about for entertainment would
pass on as romantic.
"When I'm pesterin' among the Osages on that one o'casion that I'm
tryin' to make a round-up of my health, the old buck Strike Axe relates
to me a tale which I allers looks on as possessin' elements. Shore;
an' it's as simple an' straight as the sights of a gun. It's about a
squaw an' three bucks, an' thar's enough blood in it to paint a waggon.
Which I reckons now I'll relate it plain an' easy an' free of them
frills wherewith a professional racontoor is so prone to overload his
narratives.
"The Black Cloud is a Osage medicine man an' has high repoote about
Greyhoss where he's pitched his teepee an' abides. He's got a squaw,
Sunbright, an' he's plenty jealous of this yere little Sunbright. The
Black Cloud has three squaws, an' Sunbright is the youngest. The
others is Sunbright's sisters, for a Osage weds all the sisters of a
fam'ly at once, the oldest sister goin' to the front at the nuptials to
deal the weddin' game for the entire outfit.
"Now this Sunbright ain't over-enamoured of Black Cloud; he's only a
half-blood Injun for one thing, his father bein' a buffalo-man (negro)
who's j'ined the Osages, an' Sunbright don't take kindly to his nose
which is some flatter than the best rools of Osage beauty demands; an'
likewise thar's kinks in his ha'r. Still, Sunbright sort o' keeps her
aversions to herse'f, an' if it ain't for what follows she most likely
would have travelled to her death-blankets an' been given a seat on a
hill with a house of rocks built 'round her--the same bein' the usual
burial play of a Osage--without Black Cloud ever saveyin' that so far
from interestin' Sunbright, he only makes her tired.
"Over south from Black Cloud's Greyhoss camp an' across the Arkansaw
an' some'ers between the Polecat an' the Cimmaron thar's livin' a young
Creek buck called the Lance. He's straight an' slim an' strong as the
weepon he's named for; an' he like Black Cloud is a medicine sharp of
cel'bration an' stands way up in the papers. The Creeks is never weary
of talkin' about the Lance an' what a marvel as a medicine man he is;
also, by way of insultin' the Osages, they declar's onhesitatin' that
the Lance lays over Black Cloud like four tens, an' offers to bet
hosses an' blankets an' go as far as the Osages likes that this is troo.
"By what Strike Axe informs me,--an' he ain't none likely to overplay
in his statements--by what Strike Axe tells me, I says, the Lance must
shore have been the high kyard as a medicine man. Let it get dark with
the night an' no moon in the skies, an' the Lance could take you-all
into his medicine lodge, an' you'd hear the sperits flappin' their
pinions like some one flappin' a blanket, an' thar'd be whisperin's an'
goin's on outside the lodge an' in, while fire-eyes would show an' burn
an' glower up in the peak of the teepee; an' all plenty skeary an'
mystifiyin'. Besides these yere accomplishments the Lance is one of
them mesmerism sports who can set anamiles to dreamin'. He could call
a coyote or a fox, or even so fitful an' nervous a prop'sition as a
antelope; an' little by little, snuffin' an' snortin', or if it's a
coyote, whinin', them beasts would approach the Lance ontil they're
that clost he'd tickle their heads with his fingers while they stands
shiverin' an' sweatin' with apprehensions. You can put a bet on it,
son, that accordin' to this onbiassed buck, Strike Axe, the Lance is
ondoubted the big medicine throughout the Injun range.
"As might be assoomed, the Black Cloud is some heated ag'in the Lance
an' looks on him with baleful eye as a rival. Still, Black Cloud has
his nerve with him constant, an' tharfore one day when the Osages an'
Creeks has been dispootin' touchin' the reespective powers of him an'
the Lance, an' this latter Injun offers to come over to Greyhoss an'
make medicine ag'in him, Black Cloud never hesitates or hangs back like
a dog tied onder a waggon, but calls the bluff a heap prompt an' tells
the Lance to come.
"Which the day is set an' the Lance shows in the door, as monte sharps
would say. Black Cloud an' the Lance tharupon expands themse'fs, an'
delights the assembled Creeks an' Osages with their whole box of
tricks, an' each side is braggin' an' boastin' an' puttin' it up that
their gent is most likely the soonest medicine man who ever buys black
paint. It's about hoss an' hoss between the two.
"Black Cloud accompanies himse'f to this contest with a pure white pony
which has eyes red as roobies--a kind o' albino pony--an' he gives it
forth that this milk-coloured bronco is his 'big medicine' or familiar
sperit. The Lance observes that the little red-eyed hoss is mighty
impressive to the savages, be they Creeks or Osages. At last he says
to Black Cloud:
"'To show how my medicine is stronger than yours, to-morry I'll make
your red-eyed big medicine bronco go lame in his off hind laig.'
"Black Cloud grins scornful at this; he allows that no sport can make
his white pony go lame.
"He's plumb wrong; the next mornin' the white pony is limpin' an'
draggin' his off hind hoof, an' when he's standin' still he p'ints the
toe down like something's fetched loose. Black Cloud is sore; but he
can't find no cactus thorn nor nothin' to bring about the lameness an'
he don't know what to make of the racket. Black Cloud's up ag'inst it,
an' the audience begins to figger that the Lance's' medicine is too
strong for Black Cloud.
"What's the trouble with the red-eyed pony? That's simple enough, son.
The Lance done creeps over in the night an' ties a hossha'r tight about
the pony's laig jest above the fetlock. Black Cloud ain't up to no
sech move, the same bein' a trade secret of the Lance's an' bein' the
hossha'r is hid in the ha'r on the pony's laig, no one notes its
presence.
"After Black Cloud looks his red-eyed big medicine pony all over an'
can't onderstand its lameness, the Lance asks him will he cure it.
Black Cloud, who's sc'owlin' like midnight by now, retorts that he
will. So he gets his pipe an' fills it with medicine tobacco an' blows
a mouthful of smoke in the red-eyed pony's nose. Sech remedies don't
work; that pony still limps on three laigs, draggin' the afflicted
member mighty pensive.
"At last the Lance gives Black Cloud a patronisin' smile an' says that
his medicine'll cure the pony sound an' well while you're crackin' off
a gun. He walks up to the pony an' looks long in its red eyes; the
pony's y'ears an' tail droops, its head hangs down, an' it goes mighty
near to sleep. Then the Lance rubs his hand two or three times up an'
down the lame laig above the fetlock an' elim'nates that hossha'r
ligature an' no one the wiser. A moment after, he wakes up the
red-eyed pony an' to the amazement of the Osages an' the onbounded
delight of the Creeks, the pony is no longer lame, an' the laig so late
afflicted is as solid an' healthy as a sod house. What's bigger
medicine still, the red-eyed pony begins to follow the Lance about like
a dog an' as if it's charmed; an' it likewise turns in to bite an' r'ar
an' pitch an' jump sideways if Black Cloud seeks to put his paw on him.
Then all the Injuns yell with one voice: 'The Lance has won the Black
Cloud's big medicine red-eyed pony away from him.'
"The Lance is shore the fashion, an' Black Cloud discovers he ain't a
four-spot by compar'son. His repootation is gone, an' the Lance is
regyarded as the great medicine along the Arkansaw.
"Sunbright is lookin' on at these manoovers an' her heart goes out to
the Lance; she falls more deeply in love with him than even the
red-eyed bronco does. That evenin' as the Lance is goin' to his camp
onder the cottonwoods, he meets up with Sunbright standin' still as a
tree in his path with her head bowed like a flower that's gone to
sleep. The Lance saveys; he knows Sunbright; likewise he knows what
her plantin' herse'f in his way an' her droopin' attitoode explains.
He looks at her, an' says;
"'I am a guest of the Osages, an' to-night is not the night. Wait
ontil the Lance is in his own teepee on the Polecat; then come.'
"Sunbright never moves, never looks up; but she hears an' she knows
this is right. No buck should steal a squaw while he's a guest. The
Lance walks on an' leaves her standin', head bowed an' motionless.
"Two days later the Lance is ag'in in his own teepee. Sunbright counts
the time an' knows that he must be thar. She skulks from the camp of
Black Cloud an' starts on her journey to be a new wife to a new husband.
"Sunbright is a mile from camp when she's interrupted. It's Black
Cloud who heads her off. Black Cloud may not be the boss medicine man,
but he's no fool, an' his eyes is like a wolf's eyes an' can see in the
dark. He guesses the new love which has stampeded Sunbright.
"Injuns is a mighty cur'ous outfit. Now if Sunbright had succeeded in
gettin' to the lodge of her new husband, the divorce between her an'
Black Cloud would have been complete. Moreover, if on the day
followin' or at any time Black Cloud had found her thar, he wouldn't so
much as have wagged a y'ear or batted a eye in recognition. He
wouldn't have let on he ever hears of a squaw called 'Sunbright.' This
ca'mness would be born of two causes. It would be ag'in Injun
etiquette to go trackin' about makin' a onseemly uproar an' disturbin'
the gen'ral peace for purely private causes. Then ag'in it would be
beneath the dignity of a high grade savage an' a big medicine sharp to
conduct himse'f like he'd miss so trivial a thing as a squaw.
"But ontil Sunbright fulfils her elopement projects an' establishes
herse'f onder the protectin' wing of her new love, she's runnin' resks.
She's still the Black Cloud's squaw; an' after she pulls her marital
picket pin an' while she's gettin' away, if the bereaved Black Cloud
crosses up with her he's free, onder the license permitted to Injun
husbands, to kill her an' skelp her an' dispose of her as consists best
with his moods.
"Sunbright knows this; an' when she runs ag'in the Black Cloud in her
flight, she seats herse'f in the long prairie grass an' covers her head
with her blanket an' speaks never a word.
"'Does Sunbright so love me,' says Black Cloud, turnin' aheap ugly,
'that she comes to meet me? Is it for me she has combed her h'ar an'
put on a new feather an' beads? Does she wear her new blanket an'
paint her face bright for Black Cloud? Or does she dress herse'f like
the sun for that Creek coyote, the Lance?'" Sunbright makes no reply,
Black Cloud looks at her a moment an' then goes on: "It's for the
Lance! Good! I will fix the Sunbright so she will be a good squaw to
my friend, the Lance, an' never run from his lodge as she does now from
Black Cloud's.' With that he stoops down, an' a slash of his knife
cuts the heel-tendons of Sunbright's right foot. She groans, and
writhes about the prairie, while Black Cloud puts his knife back in his
belt, gets into his saddle ag'in an' rides away.
"The next day a Creek boy finds the body of Sunbright where she rolls
herse'f into the Greyhoss an' is drowned.
"When the Lance hears the story an' sees the knife slash on Sunbright's
heel, he reads the trooth. It gives him a bad heart; he paints his
face red an' black an thinks how he'll be revenged. Next day he sends
a runner to Black Cloud with word that Black Cloud has stole his hoss.
This is to arrange a fight on virtuous grounds. The Lance says that in
two days when the sun is overhead Black Cloud must come to the three
cottonwoods near the mouth of the Cimmaron an' fight, or the Lance on
the third day an' each day after will hunt for him as he'd hunt a wolf
ontil Black Cloud is dead. The Black Cloud's game, an' sends word that
on the second day he'll be thar by the three cottonwoods when the sun
is overhead; also, that he will fight with four arrows.
"Then Black Cloud goes at once, for he has no time to lose, an' kills a
dog near his lodge. He cuts out its heart an' carries it to the rocky
canyon where the rattlesnakes have a village. Black Cloud throws the
dog's heart among them an' teases them with it; an' the rattlesnakes
bite the dog's heart ag'in an' ag'in ontil it's as full of p'isen as a
bottle is of rum. After that, Black Cloud puts the p'isened heart in
the hot sun an' lets it fret an' fester ontil jest before he goes to
his dooel with the Lance. As he's about to start, Black Cloud dips the
four steel arrowheads over an' over in the p'isened heart, bein'
careful to dry the p'isen on the arrowheads; an' now whoever is touched
with these arrows so that the blood comes is shore to die. The biggest
medicine in the nation couldn't save him.
"Thar's forty Osage and forty Creek bucks at the three cottonwoods to
see that the dooelists get a squar' deal. The Lance an' Black Cloud is
thar; each has a bow an' four arrows; each has made medicine all night
that he may kill his man.
"But the dooel strikes a obstacle.
"Thar's a sombre, sullen sport among the Osages who's troo name is the
'Bob-cat,' but who's called the 'Knife Thrower.' The Bob-cat is one of
the Osage forty. Onknown to the others, this yere Bob-cat--who it
looks like is a mighty impressionable savage--is himse'f in love with
the dead Sunbright. An' he's hot an' cold because he's fearful that in
this battle of the bows the Lance'll down Black Cloud an' cheat him,
the Bob-cat, of his own revenge. The chance is too much; the Bob-cat
can't stand it an' resolves to get his stack down first. An' so it
happens that as Black Cloud an' the Lance, painted in their war
colours, is walkin' to their places, a nine-inch knife flickers like a
gleam of light from the hand of the Bob-cat, an' merely to show that he
ain't called the 'Knife Thrower' for fun, catches Black Cloud flush in
the throat, an' goes through an' up to the gyard at the knife-haft.
Black Cloud dies standin', for the knife p'int bites his spine.
"No, son, no one gets arrested; Injuns don't have jails, for the mighty
excellent reason that no Injun culprit ever vamoses an' runs away.
Injun crim'nals, that a-way, allers stands their hands an' takes their
hemlock. The Osages, who for Injuns is some shocked at the Bob-cat's
interruption of the dooel--it bein' mighty onparliamentary from their
standp'ints--tries the Bob-cat in their triboonals for killin' Black
Cloud an' he's decided on as guilty accordin' to their law. They
app'ints a day for the Bob-cat to be shot; an' as he ain't present at
the trial none, leavin' his end of the game to be looked after by his
reelatives, they orders a kettle-tender or tribe crier to notify the
Bob-cat when an' where he's to come an' have said sentence execooted
upon him. When he's notified, the Bob-cat don't say nothin'; which is
satisfactory enough, as thar's nothin' to be said, an' every Osage
knows the Bob-cat'll be thar at the drop of the handkerchief if he's
alive.
"It so turns out; the Bob-cat's thar as cool as wild plums. He's
dressed in his best blankets an' leggin's; an' his feathers an' gay
colours makes him a overwhelmin' match for peacocks. Thar's a white
spot painted over his heart.
"The chief of the Osages, who's present to see jestice done, motions to
the Bob-cat, an' that gent steps to a red blanket an' stands on its
edge with all the blanket spread in front of him on the grass. The
Bob-cat stands on the edge, as he saveys when he's plugged that he'll
fall for'ard on his face. When a gent gets the gaff for shore, he
falls for'ard. If a party is hit an' falls back'ards, you needn't get
excited none; he's only creased an' 'll get over it.
"Wherefore, as I states, the Bob-cat stands on the edge of the blanket
so it's spread out in front to catch him as he drops. Thar's not a
word spoke by either the Bob-cat or the onlookers, the latter openin'
out into a lane behind so the lead can go through. When the Bob-cat's
ready, his cousin, a buck whose name is Little Feather, walks to the
front of the blanket an' comes down careful with his Winchester on the
white mark over the Bob-cat's heart. Thar's a moment's silence as the
Bob-cat's cousin runs his eye through the sights; thar's a flash an' a
hatful of gray smoke; the white spot turns red with blood; an' then the
Bob-cat falls along on his face as soft as a sack of corn.
"What becomes of the Lance? It's two weeks later when that scientist
is waited on by a delegation of Osages. They reminds him that
Sunbright has two sisters, the same bein' now widows by virchoo of the
demise of that egreegious Black Cloud. Also, the Black Cloud was rich;
his teepee was sumptuous, an' he's left a buckskin coat with ivory elk
teeth sewed onto it plenty as stars at night. The coat is big
medicine; moreover thar's the milk-white big medicine bronco with red
eyes. The Osage delegation puts forth these trooths while the Lance
sets cross-laiged on a b'arskin an' smokes willow bark with much
dignity. In the finish, the Osage outfit p'ints up to the fact that
their tribe is shy a medicine man, an' a gent of the Lance's
accomplishments who can charm anamiles an' lame broncos will be a
mighty welcome addition to the Osage body politic. The Lance lays down
his pipe at this an' says, 'It is enough!' An' the next day he sallies
over an' weds them two relicts of Black Cloud an' succeeds to that dead
necromancer's estate an' both at one fell swoop. The two widows
chuckles an' grins after the manner of ladies, to get a new husband so
swift; an' abandonin' his lodge on the Polecat the Lance sets up his
game at Greyhoss, an' onless he's petered, he's thar dealin' it yet."