In Montana, running into the Missouri River from the south, is a
little stream that the Blackfeet call "It Fell on Them." Once, long,
long ago, while a number of women were digging in a bank near this
stream for the red earth that they used as paint, the bank gave way
and fell on them, burying and killing them. The white people call
this Armell's Creek.
It was on this stream near the mountains that the Piegans were
camped when M[=i]ka´pi went to war. This was long ago.
Early in the morning a herd of buffalo had been seen feeding on the
slopes of the mountains, and some hunters went out to kill them.
Travelling carefully up the ravines, and keeping out of sight of the
herd, they came close to them, near enough to shoot their arrows,
and they began to kill fat cows. But while they were doing this a
war party of Snakes that had been hidden on the mountainside
attacked them, and the Piegans began to run back toward their camp.
One of them, called Fox Eye, was a brave man, and shouted to the
others to stop and wait, saying, "Let us fight these people; the
Snakes are not brave; we can drive them back." But the other Piegans
would not listen to him; they made excuses, saying, "We have no
shields; our war medicine is not here; there are many of them; why
should we stop here to die?" They ran on to the camp, but Fox Eye
would not run. Hiding behind a rock he prepared to fight, but as he
was looking for some enemy to shoot at, holding his arrow on the
string, a Snake had crept up on the bank above him; the Piegan heard
the twang of the bowstring, and the long, fine arrow passed through
his body. His bow and arrow dropped from his hands, and he fell
forward, dead. Now, too late, the warriors came rushing out from the
Piegan camp to help him, but the Snakes scalped their enemy,
scattered up the mountain, and soon were hidden in the timber.
Fox Eye had two wives, and their father and mother and all their
near relations were dead. All Fox Eye's relations had died. So it
happened that these poor widows had no one to help them--no one to
take vengeance for the killing of their husband.
All day long, and often far into the night, these two sat on a
near-by hill and wailed, and their mourning was sad.
There was a young man named Mika´pi. Every morning when he awoke
he heard the mourning of these poor widows, and all through the day
he could not forget their sorrow. He pitied them. One day he sent
his mother to them, to tell them that he wished to speak with them.
When they had come to the lodge they entered and sat down close by
the doorway and covered their heads.
"Listen!" said Mika´pi. "For days and nights I have heard your
mourning, and I too have mourned. Your husband was my close friend,
and now he is dead, and no relations are left to avenge him. So now
I say to you, I will take the load from your hearts; I will go to
war and kill enemies and take scalps, and when I return they shall
be yours. I will wipe away your tears, and we shall be glad that Fox
Eye is avenged."
When the people heard that Mika´pi was going to war many young
men wished to join him, but he refused. "I shall go alone," he said.
So when he had taken a medicine sweat and had asked a priest to pray
for him in his absence, he left the camp one evening, just as it was
growing dark.
It is only the foolish warrior who travels in the day. The wise one
knows that war-parties may be out, or that some camp watcher sitting
on a hill may see him far off and may try to kill him. Mika´pi
was not one of these foolish persons. He was brave and cautious, and
he had powerful helpers. Some have said that he was helped by the
ghosts. When he started to war against the Snakes he travelled in
low places, and at sunrise he climbed some hill near by and looked
carefully over the country in all directions, and during all the
long day he lay there and watched, sleeping often, but only for a
short time.
When Mika´pi had come to the Great Place of Falling Water,[A] it
began to rain hard, and, looking about for a place to sleep, he saw
a hole in the rocks and crept in and lay down at the farther end.
The rain did not stop, and when it grew dark he could not travel
because of the darkness and the storm, so he lay down to sleep
again; but before he had fallen asleep he heard something at the
mouth of the cave, and then something creeping toward him. Then soon
something touched his breast, and he put out his hand and felt a
person. Then he sat up.
[Footnote A: The Great Falls of the Missouri.]
Mika´pi stretched out his hand and put its palm on the person's
breast and moved his hand quickly from side to side, and then
touched the person with the point of his finger, which in sign
language means, "Who are you?" The stranger took Mika´pi's hand
and made him feel of his own right hand. The thumb and fingers were
closed except the forefinger, which was extended. When Mika´pi's
hand was on the stranger's hand the person moved his hand forward
with a zigzag motion, meaning Snake.
Mika´pi was glad. Here had come to him one of the tribe he was
seeking, yet he thought it better to wait for a time before fighting
him; so when, in signs, the Snake asked Mika´pi who he was he
replied, by making the sign for paddling a canoe, that he was a
River person, for he knew that the Snakes and the River people, or
Pend d'Oreilles, were at peace. Then the two lay down for the night,
but Mika´pi did not sleep. Through the long night he watched for
the first light, so that he might kill his enemy; and just at
daybreak Mika´pi, without noise, strung his bow, fitted an arrow
to the string, and sent the thin shaft through his enemy's heart.
The Snake half rose up and fell back dead. Mika´pi scalped him,
took his bow and arrows and his bundle of moccasins, and went out of
the cave and looked all about. Daylight had come, but no one was in
sight. Perhaps, like himself, the Snake had gone to war alone.
Mika´pi did not forget to be careful because he had been
fortunate. He travelled only a little way, and then hid himself and
waited for night before going on. After drinking from the river he
ate and, climbing up on a high rock wall, he slept.
He dreamed that he fought with strange people and was wounded. He
felt blood trickling from his wounds, and when he awoke he knew that
he had been warned to turn back. Other signs were bad. He saw an
eagle rising carrying a snake, which dropped from its claws. The
setting sun too was painted, a sure warning that danger was near. In
spite of all these things Mika´pi determined to go on. He thought
of the poor widows mourning; he thought of welcome of the people if
he should return with scalps; he thought also of two young sisters
whom he wished to marry. If he could return with proof of brave
deeds, they would think well of him.
Mika´pi travelled onward.
* * * * *
The sun had already disappeared behind the sharp pointed dark peaks
of the mountains. It was nearly night. As the light grew dim, the
far stretching prairie began to be hidden. By a stream in a valley
where grew large and small trees were the lodges of a great camp.
For a long distance up and down the river rose the smokes of many
fires.
On a hill overlooking the valley sat a person alone. His robe was
drawn close about him, and he sat there without moving, looking down
on the valley and out on the prairie above it. Perhaps he was
watching for enemies; perhaps he was praying.
Creeping through the grass behind this person, something was slowly
drawing near to him. There was no noise, the watcher heard nothing;
still he sat there, looking out over the prairie, and turning his
head neither to the right nor the left. This thing behind him kept
creeping closer, and presently it was so near it could touch the
man. Perhaps then there was some little rustle of the grass, and the
watcher turned his head. It was too late. A strong arm around his
neck bent his head back, a hand covered his mouth, a long stone
knife was thrust into his breast, and he died in silence. The fading
light had kept people in the camp from seeing what had happened.
The man who had used the knife scalped his enemy, and slowly,
hidden by the grass, crept down the hill that he had just ascended,
and when he reached the cover of a low place Mika´pi rose to his
feet and crept away. He had another Snake scalp tied to his belt.
His heart was glad, but he was not satisfied.
Several nights had passed since the signs warned him to turn back,
but notwithstanding the warnings, he had succeeded. Perhaps his
success had made him too confident. He longed for more of it. "One
more scalp I shall take," he said, "and then I will return to the
people."
He climbed far up the mountainside and hid among the pines and
slept, but when day came he awoke and crept out to a point where he
could see the camp. He saw the smoke rising as the women kindled
their morning fires; he saw the people going about through the camp,
and then presently he saw many people rush up on the hill where he
had left the dead enemy. He could not hear their angry cries, nor
their mournful wailings, but he knew how badly they felt, and he
sung a song, for he was happy.
Once more the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and as
darkness grew Mika´pi came down from where he had been hiding and
carefully approached the camp. Now was a time of danger. Now
watchers might be hidden anywhere, looking for the approach of
enemies, ready to raise a cry to warn the camp. Each bush or clump
of rye grass or willow thicket might hide an enemy. Very slowly,
looking and listening, Mika´pi crept around the outskirts of the
camp. He made no noise, he did not show himself. Presently he heard
some one clear his throat and then a cough, and a little bush moved.
Here was a watcher. Could he kill him and get away? He sat and
waited to see what would happen, for he knew where his enemy was,
but the enemy knew nothing of him. The great moon rose over the
eastern prairie and climbed high and began to travel across the sky.
Seven Persons swung around and pointed downward. It was about the
middle of the night. At length the person in the bush grew tired of
watching; he thought no enemy could be near and he rose and
stretched out his arms and yawned, but even as he stood an arrow
pierced him through, beneath the arms. He gave a loud cry and tried
to run, but another arrow struck him, and he fell.
And now from out the camp rushed the warriors toward the sound, but
even as they came Mika´pi had taken the scalp from his enemy and
started to run away into the darkness. The moon was bright, and
close behind him were the Snakes. He heard arrows flying by him, and
presently one passed through his arm. He pulled it out and threw it
from him. Another struck his leg, and he fell, and a great shout
arose from the Snakes. Now their enemy was down and revenge for the
two lives lately taken was certain.
But Mika´pi's helpers were not far off. It was at the very verge
of a high cut wall overhanging the river that Mika´pi fell, and
even as the Snakes shouted he rolled over the brink into the dark
rushing water below. The Snakes ran along the edge of the river,
looking into the water, with bent bows watching for the enemy's head
or body to appear, but they saw nothing. Carefully they looked
along the shores and sandbars; they did not find him.
Mika´pi had sunk deep in the water. The swift current carried him
along, and when he rose to the surface he was beyond his enemies.
For some time he floated on, but the arrow in his leg pained him and
at last he crept out on a sandbar. He managed to draw the arrow from
his leg, and finding at the edge of the bar a dry log, he rolled it
into the water, and keeping his hands on it, drifted down the river
with the current. Cold and stiff from his wounds, he crept out on
the bank and lay down in the warm sunshine. Soon he fell asleep.
When he awoke the sun was in the middle of the sky. His leg and arm
were swollen and pained him, yet he started to go home, and for a
time struggled onward; but at last, tired and discouraged, he sat
down.
"Ah," he said to himself, "true were the signs! How crazy I was to
go against them! Now my bravery has been useless, for here I must
stop and die. The widows will still mourn, and who will care for my
father and mother in their old age? Pity me now, O Sun; help me, O
Great Above Person! Give me life!"
Something was coming through the brush near him, breaking the sticks
as it walked. Was it the Snakes following his trail? Mika´pi
strung his bow and drew his arrows from the quiver. He waited.
No, it was not a Snake; it was a bear, a big grizzly bear, standing
there looking down at Mika´pi. "What is my brother doing here?"
said the bear. "Why does he pray for life?"
"Look at my leg," said Mika´pi; "swollen and sore. See my wounded
arm; I can hardly hold the bow. Far away is the home of my people,
and my strength is gone. Surely here I must die, for I cannot walk,
and I have no food."
"Take courage, my brother," said the bear. "Keep up a strong heart,
for I will help you, and you shall have life."
When he had said this he lifted Mika´pi in his arms and took him
to a place where there was thick mud, and there he took great
handfuls of the mud and plastered it on the wounds, and while he
was putting on the mud he sang a medicine song. Then he carried
Mika´pi to a place where there were many service berries, and he
broke off great branches of the fruit and gave them to him, saying,
"Eat; my brother, eat." He kept breaking off branches full of large,
ripe berries until Mika´pi was full and could eat no more.
Then said the bear, "Now lie down on my back and hold tight by my
hair and we will go on"; and when Mika´pi had got on his back and
was ready the bear started. All through the night he travelled on
without stopping, and when morning came they rested for a time and
ate more berries, and again the bear put mud upon the man's wounds.
In this way they travelled on, until, on the fourth day, they had
come close to the lodges of the Piegans and the people saw them
coming, and wondered.
"Get off now, my brother, get off," said the bear. "There is the
camp of your people. I shall leave you"; and at once he turned and
went off up the mountain.
All the people came out to meet Mika´pi, and they carried him to
his father's lodge. He untied the scalps from his belt and gave them
to the poor widows, saying, "These are the scalps of your enemies; I
wipe away your tears." Then every one rejoiced. All Mika´pi's
women relations went through the camp, shouting out his name and
singing songs about him, and all prepared to dance the dance of
triumph and rejoicing.
First came the widows. They carried the scalps tied on poles, and
their faces were painted black. Then came the medicine men, with
their medicine pipes unwrapped, and then the bands of the All
Friends dressed in their war costumes; then came the old men; and,
last of all, the women and children. They went all through the
village, stopping here and there to dance, and Mika´pi sat
outside the lodge and saw all the people dance by him. He forgot his
pain and was happy, and although he could not dance, he sung with
them.
Soon they made the medicine lodge, and first of all the warriors,
Mika´pi was chosen to cut the rawhide to bind the poles, and as
he cut the strips he related the coups he had counted. He told of
the enemies he had killed, and all the people shouted his name and
the drummers struck the drum. The father of those two sisters gave
them to him. He was glad to have such a son-in-law.
Long lived Mika´pi. Of all the great chiefs who have lived and
died he was the greatest. He did many other great things. It must be
true, as the old men have said, that he was helped by the ghosts,
for no one can do such things without help from those fearful and
terrible persons.