The Way of an Indian

what the Good Gods offer-the ponies, the women and the scalps. He had become a sub-chief in the Red Lodge military clan. He had brought many painted war-bands into the big camp with the

had gone down before him in war. In the time of the ceremonies, his chief's war-bonnet dragged on the ground and was bright with the painted feathers which belonged to a victor. He hated the Yellow-Eyes, not going often to their posts for t

ome; the small cackle of his women, one to another, annoyed him; he was strong with the gluttony of the kettle which was ever boiling; the longing for fierce action and the blood-thirst had taken possession of him. Many times he reached up with his hand to the crown of his head and patted the skin of the little brown bat, which was his med

ight; we will see if the path is clear before us. My shadow is very black beside me here-I am strong." Thus the Indian and his medicine easily agr

at watching the little flames leaping from the split sticks as his you

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ficial whiffs to the four corners of the world, to the upper realms and to the lower places and then addressed the Good Gods. All the mundane influences had departed-even his body had been left behind. He was in communion with the spirit world-lost in the expectancy of revelation. He sang in monotonous lines, repeating his extemporizations after the Indian manner, and was addressing the Thunder Being-the great bird so much sought by warriors. He sat long before his prayers were heeded, but at last could hear the rain patter on the dry sides of the tepee and he knew that the Thunder Bird had broken through the air to let the rain fall. A great wind moaned through the enc

hs. The sun was bright when they were done with their conversation, but the signs were favorable to the spirit of war. The Thunder Bird had on the pre

e of young warriors, blinked their beady eyes in protest but they did not imperil their popularity by advice to the contrary. The young men's blood-thirst and desire for distinction could not be curbed. So the war-prophet repaired to his secret lodge to make the mystery, while the warriors fasted until it was done. Ever

e a swift horse and led another alongside. Far ahead ranged the cautious spies; no sailing hawk, no wailin

ed so desirable as to despoil the Absaroke traders. They had often spied on the fort but always found the protecting Absaroke too numerous. The scouts of the Fire Eater, however, found immense trace of their enemy's main camp as it moved up the valley of the Yellow-stone. They knew tha

of the Fire Eater, they rose like ghosts from the sage and charged fast on the stockade. The gray logs stood stiffly unresponsive and gave no answering shots or yells as the Indians swept upon them. The gate was high, but the attacking force crept up on each other's bent backs as they strove for the interio

housed in the post. As the surprised whites and creoles swarmed to the defense the Indians found themselves outnumbered three to one. The Fire Eater, seeing several braves fall b

becoming mellowed by the morning light. The sun had apparently thrown his protection over them and the omen struck home to the wondering, savage mind. He remembered that the old men had always said that the medicine of the Yellow-Eyes was very strong and that they always fought insensibly like the gray bears. The flashing rifles which had blown their bodies back from the fort had astonished t

ich had beaten down their ambitions and would paint the tribes with ashes and blood-sacri

ire Eater arose and standing on the edge of the bank raised his arms in thanks to the Thunder Bird for his interposition in their behalf, saying: "Brothers, the Thunder Bird has come to hi

wild things they all responded, and the group of men was statuesque as it listened to the beat of horses' hoofs. As a flock of blackbirds leaves a bush-with one motion-the statuary dissolved into a kaleidoscopic twinkle of movement as the warriors grabbed and ran and gathered. They sought their ponies' lariats, but before they could mount a hundred mounted Yellow-Eyes swept down upon them, circling away as the In

hout, throwing clouds of wet dirt over the braves crowding under its banks. The frightened Indian ponies swarmed out of o

of the warrior rather than from his lips. No bullet found him as he stepped back into cover, more composed than when he had gone out. The nervous thrill had expanded itself in the speech. To his own mind the Fire Eater was a dead man; his medi

sneaking through sage and tufted grass. Occasionally as an Indian exposed himself to fire, a swift bullet from a beaver-man's long rifle crashed into his head, rolling him back with oozing brains. The slugs and ounce balls slapped into the dirt from the muskets of

close to the grass, but a flying raven would have gloated over a scene of many future gorges. It would have see

as merciful as any there. As the sun started on its downward course the nature of the Gothic blood asserted itself. The white men had sat still until they could sit still no longer. They had fasted too long. They talked to each other through the sagebrush, and this is what happened when they cast the dice between Deat

put your war-ax under you. The Yellow-Eyes are going to kill us as we do the buffalo in a surround. Bro

excitedly emptied theirs and through the smoke with lowered heads charged like the buffalo. The bowstrings twanged and the ravens could only see the lightning sweep of axes and furious gun-butts going over the pall of mingled dust and powder smoke. If the ravens were watching they would

notice the lone runner until a small herds-boy spied him, and though he raised his childish treble it made no impression. The Fire Eater picked up a dropp

erted itself he was long out of rif

k savage drew steadily away to the hills. For many miles the white men lathered their horses after, but one by one gave up t

ord. His heart was upside down within him. His shadow flew away before him. The great myste

scene of ill-fate. He saw the Yellow-Eyes ride slowly back to their medicine-logs-he saw the ravens lightin

stilled, thoughts came slowly. He thanked the little brown bat when it reminded him of his savior. A furious floo

under Bird had demanded a sacrifice from him when he returned. He could not bear the thoughts of the wailing women and the screaming children and the old men smoking in silence as he passed through

arriors. The "green-grass" came and the prophet of the Red Lodges admitted that the medicine spoke no more of the absent band. By "yellow-grass" hope grew cold in the village and socially they had readjusted thems

ut had been sent back to be a Shoshone for another life. The Indians were overcome by an insatiate curiosity to see this being and urged the traders to bring him from the Shoshones-promising to protect and honor him. The traders dominated by avarice, hoping to better their business, humored the stories and enlarged upon them. They half understood that the mystery of life and death are inextrica

beaver, we will bring their brother who died back to their camp. We will lead him into the t

was erected-everything was arranged-the great ceremonial-pipe was filled and the council-fire kept smoldering. Many packa

ed the trader if he saw beaver enough outside his window. This

ge approach. Never before had the Chis-chis-chash been so near the great mystery. The door-flap was lifted and a f

came from one man-followed by another until the hollow walls gave back like a hundre

low-Eyes kill all my band when we went against the Absaroke. My medicine grew weak before the white man's medicine. Brothers, they are very strong. Always beware of the medicine of the traders and the beaver-men. They are fools and women themselves but the gods give them guns and other medi