MOON EYES, THE BRULE MEDICINE MAN.
The Indians are wedded to their superstitions, and their medicine men
hold an influence over them far more powerful than the priests of a
church in civilization would over their congregations.
A medicine man of tact, cunning, and courage can move a tribe to his
liking, even the war chiefs fearing to go against his commands.
And these same medicine men are respected and feared, their slightest
vagaries tolerated, and their every wish gratified, be it what it may.
Of late the influence of the war chiefs has been upon the wane, and it
was, perhaps, that they realized this fact, and many of them sought, by
an Indian war against the whites, to recover their waning prestige.
The power of the medicine men, however, has held firmly, and yet
only those who could show their claims to be just by deeds, were
acknowledged men of influence.
The contract of the Indians with the whites has caused evolution to
work among the tepees of the red men as well as in the haunts of
civilization.
I refer to this fact to show how it was possible for a medicine man to
wield great power over the superstitious minds of the redskins, and
it will be remembered that Sitting Bull, the greatest Roman of them
all, was a medicine chief, that his call to be rescued was promptly
answered, and that a medicine man, Red Hatchet, brought on the fight at
Wounded Knee Creek.
Upon the night following the entrance of Red Hatchet and his captive
into the hostiles' camp an Indian with bent form, carrying a red staff,
and with his black, bushy hair overhanging his face, as though to
shield it, was making his way into the Bad Lands.
He wore the costume of a Brule medicine chief, a robe of white beaver
skins being thrown over his form, and his war-paint, where visible, was
of the most gorgeous hues and disfiguring.
He had necklaces of grizzly bears' claws, others of the beaks of eagles
and vultures, and beneath his white beaver robe was the ghost shirt,
painted with red hieroglyphics and symbols intelligible only to the
medicine chiefs.
His hands were painted blood red, and hanging to a string of braided
scalps was a hatchet painted a carmine hue.
As he went along he chanted a weird song, yet his keen eyes seemed to
take in the country thoroughly as he approached the Bad Lands.
And such a country, if so it could be called, for it was wild and
barren to the extreme of desolation.
The surroundings were seamed and scarred with ravines, rocks, and
desert patches.
A table land, or what the Indians called a mesa, arose abruptly
from the plain surrounding, and could only be reached by two or
three passes, one coming in from the Cheyenne River, which was wild,
precipitous, and dangerous to ascend.
Ascending this steep, winding pass, the medicine chief halted, and
gazed about him by the fast receding light, for the sun was upon the
horizon.
The _mesa_ was many miles long, and several in width in some places,
and almost as desolate as the plains surrounding it.
Over in one corner, securely sheltered, the camp of the hostiles was
discernible, for the camp fires began to brighten in the gathering
twilight.
Indian guards were stationed at the passes, and scouts in small bands
were encircling the plateau, to warn the camps of the approach of a foe.
The approach of the medicine man had been signaled by the scouts, and
the guards at the pass crowded about him, and yet with seeming awe and
respect, for not a word did they utter.
The stranger half-straightened up, shaded his eyes and glanced toward
the eastern skies, yet rosy with the sunset, and bent low again.
Then he turned toward the other direction, unshaded his eyes, and
seemed to regard the darkened skies as though he could read there omens
of good or evil.
In silence he passed on toward the distant camps of the hostiles.
In the same bent posture he entered the village of tepees, making his
way along toward the medicine lodge of the Brules.[7]
The medicine chief of the Brules was a cunning old fox, very infirm,
however, from his years, and yet one who could mold his people to his
will.
Suddenly the strange medicine chief, wearing the white beaver robe[8]
of honor, entered the sacred precincts of the medicine tepee, and said
in a low voice:
"The Moon Eyes has come to see by night what the Sun Gazer cannot
behold in the darkness. The Moon Eyes has come from the foes of our
people, and he wears the ghost shirt to kill, and the red tomahawk."
The Sun Gazer, for such was the name of the Brule medicine chief, at
once welcomed the stranger to the tepee, and the two talked long and
earnestly together.
At last the Moon Eyes arose and glided from the tepee, making his way
about the Indian village, and gradually edging toward the pass nearest
the Cheyenne River.
He passed the guards in silence, held on down the winding trail, and
thus on for a mile or more, constantly turning and glancing back in the
moonlight to see that he was not tracked.
At last he halted at a narrow, deep ravine, and gave a low call.
A response came from the darkness below, and then from beneath his robe
the medicine chief took a pencil and paper, and when it was finished
placed it upon the end of his long, red staff, and handed it down into
the ravine.
When he withdrew the staff the paper was gone, and he said, in the same
guarded tone:
"Let the Flying Fox go like the wind, straight as the bird flies, to
the camp of General Miles, and to-morrow night I will come here again."
A response came from below in the ravine, and the medicine chief then
slowly retraced his way toward the hostiles' camp, making signs at the
moon as he neared the guards at the pass.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 7: There were among the hostiles, Brules, who were the most
dangerous and desperate of all. Ogallalas, Uncopapas, and scattering
bucks from other tribes.]
[Footnote 8: The white beaver is a sacred animal among the Indians, and
only the most honored can wear a robe of white beaver skins.]