The little buffalo robe

Front matter

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CHAPTER I AM Tun - in - gi - na

My name is long for I am a child of the Ma-has.* My name means something about the new moon.

My father is called Village Maker and my mother is called Me-tun-in-gi. Her name means something about the new moon. My father says she is the handsomest squaw in our tribe. I have seen many women of the Poncas. I have seen some women of the Yanktonais, but my mother is more beautiful than any of the others. She is strong, too. She has a

Metuningi

Omahas.

good head. Even the braves stop to listen to her words when in the council she wishes to talk. We have seven brave men who meet and talk with the Wa-kon-dah, the Great Spirit, before our people go on the hunt or on the war trail. But they often call my mother to speak before them. One day a little friend told me my mother was a woman of mystery. I do not know. But she has a good head.

When the buffaloes are all gone then the red men will die unless we learn another way to live. The red men always kill enough buffalo for food and leave the great herds that more young ones may grow. But the white men come in great numbers. They kill many buffalo that spoil on the ground. They eat only a little. Soon the herds will all be gone. So my father says I must go to the stone lodge where the white men teach their way to live and eat.

“I wish to stay in the tipi. I am a red child. I do not wish to be white,” I say.

“Thou wilt not be white. Thou wilt only learn their ways.”

“But I have much to learn here, my father, my da' -di-ha, I must learn to go for wood; I must learn to make the red and yellow and black dye for the quill work; I must learn to make moccasins and dresses; I must learn to tan robes; I must learn to care for the garden and to cook beans and buffalo fat and corn.”

“Thou wilt learn to make a thing they call candy. It is sweet like honey.”

“I like better the um' -bag-the” I say to my father, for all Indian children of my tribe like the um' -bag-the. You must boil corn and beans in one cooking pot for a long time, then set it out to cool and get hard in the night. In the morning it tastes very good if you slice it. I know I like um'-bag-the better than candy which is like honey.

But because all red children do what the father and mother think best, I must go to the stone lodge to learn the way of the white man. My father and mother talk much and go to the earth-house where our people go to make medicine. Then they tell me I am not to go to the stone house of the people whose skin is of the color of the inner layer of the corn husk, till a winter has passed by. I am of very glad heart when they say this to me, for I want to be with my people when they go on the summer buffalo hunt. If my father tells it straight, there will soon be no buffaloes to hunt, and I do not want to give up our nice life. I do not want to live in a dark, stone house and learn the ways of the pale faces. I run out all day long. I am so happy today that my face is like the sunshine as I walk beside my mother who is going with many other women to gather food. Many good roots are found to eat during this moon-in-whichnothing-happens. The next moon is the one-in-which-they-plant.* So we gather the bulbs of the lily to boil without meat. After the cold winter moons when we have cooked much buffalo meat with dried corn and beans, the lily bulbs are very good to the mouth. The milk weeds have not sent us stems long enough to cook yet, but I shall watch that I be the first to bring them into camp when the Wa-kon-dah makes them grow tall enough. We are all happy. We all chew the bark of the slippery elm.

The rain has gone back into the sky which has a wonderful blue color today. The sun shines. I wander away to a pleasant spot on the hillside for I wish to get the round plant t that springs up after a heavy rain. It looks like tripe and we like to eat it.

* May.

f Mushroom — “ looks-like- tripe.”

We are all hungry for new food. I do not know how far my moccasins take me but when I look for my mother I do not see her! I walk till my moccasins are tired. Then I think I will go to the top of the highest hill so that I may see the circle of tipis. My moccasins get so tired I think I will rest them. I am hungry and water comes into my eyes. I lie down on the earth and because I am tired I am sleep hungry. A big snake crawls past me but I lie quiet and he goes away. The white and gray clouds chase each other across the sky like boys playing a game. I forget all about the food that looks like tripe and my eyes close. I go to many places in my dreams and in one very bad dream I find a big Yanktonai-Sioux brave carrying me away in his arms. Over my mouth is tied a piece of soft deerskin. It is dirty and I try to bite it and spit it out but the Yanktonai brave only laughs at me. I try to waken but find it is true ! The Yanktonai is carrying me to the others of his tribe. Then I know that unless some of my people miss me and come to find me, I shall be carried away to their camping grounds and shall never see my father and mother again.

Maybe they will kill me. I weep, but they only laugh and speak in a tongue I do not know. Sometimes they say a word that sounds like our talk but I do not know what they say. The one who holds me on his saddle has a good face. He laughs much. One is stupid like the owl. I know he will not hurt me unless the third one, who has a face like an angry winter sky, tells him to. Then he will do it for he has no head of his own. To myself I call the brave who found me “Kage*,” which means friend. If they try to kill me I will put my arms around his neck as I do about the neck of my father.

We ride fast toward where-cold-comes-from. As the sun goes to sleep I grow chilly so Kage puts his

* Kah'-gay.

blanket around both of us. I do not hate him yet. He has only stolen me. He has not killed any of my sisters nor my father and mother. And I know they will not kill me. Nobody carries a child on the back of a pony only to kill it at the end of the journey. It is too much trouble. So I begin to wonder what they are going to do with me. I try to look back so I may run home on the same trail if I get away. Then they all laugh and make signs that say I have a good head, but they cover my eyes with a robe so I cannot see. At this I laugh to myself for if they were to set me down in the midst of the lonesome prairie at night time I would look at the sky and find the Star- That-Moves-Not. Then I would go away from that star, towards my people. But the Yanktonais think nobody but a man child has head enough to do that!

So when we sleep that night I see the Yanktonais all three sleep. They think we are all too far away from my people for them ever to catch us. When they all sleep I try to hold my eyes open. I think I shall steal away. Kage has taken all the ropes that bound me from my hands and feet. As they made camp they let me run and play. They know I fear the wild animals that run about in the time of new growing. So I hold my eyes wide open. Kage sees me and he laughs. Then I know his thoughts. He thinks I want to run away, but he thinks, too, that I am so little I shall be sleep hungry.

It is no longer raining. The many stars come out in the big, wide sky. Unless you have slept out on the prairie you do not know how big and wide the sky is. I see the white path across it. I know it is white because the spirits of all my people who have left us are passing that way. I wonder if I shall soon have my moccasins in that path. If I try to get away a hungry wolf may catch me. Then I shiver for there will be none of my people to keep a fire kindled on my grave for the first four nights after I die. My spirit will not know where to go. And while I am thinking about it the little star that looks in my eye winks and winks. ... I close my eyes! . . . Suddenly I hear the ponies moving and open my eyes and see Kage eating jerked meat from his pack. Then I know that I have been asleep all night; that it is morning again, and that by the time the sun has again gone to bed I shall be many moccasins away from my people. So I weep again; the rain is in my eyes and a pain in my throat. Kage says words in the

Yanktonai tongue but they are good words. They are like the voice of a squaw. Then he looks ashamed as the others smile. So he takes me up roughly but I know he has a good heart for me. He will not harm me unless he feels that I am too much trouble to carry. So I wonder if he will leave me to be eaten by wolves or if he will beat me to death with his war club before they go on. Then I grow cold as the thought is in my head so I put my arms tighter about his neck. He laughs a low little laugh and says words in voice like a young brave speaking to a little dog that he loves. So I smile in his face. I am not afraid of him so long as I can keep the other two from laughing.

When we eat again that night the one with the owl face goes to the top of a hill and lies down, looking, looking all about for signs that talk. He must know if unfriendly Indians are near. If he sees any, his robe or his hands will talk to his two friends very fast. They build a fire. Then Kage goes out with his bow and arrow to shoot some birds. It is growing chilly so I put my hands out towards the blaze of the oak twigs. As I stand so with my little beaded moccasins near to the fire I smell scorching leather and I look down. Then I remember how my mother has just finished the work on them in the winter moons, and again the rain comes to my eyes. Then Angry Face makes one ugly grunt like a bear in the time of new growing things, like a bear that is wakened from the long winter sleep so that he is sleep hungry and belly hungry. Then numpa, the fear, comes to my heart and I make the child’s war cry. He raises a club to strike me. His eyes are cruel.

There is the kill in them. But he is heavy like the fat buffalo. I am a thin little Ma-ha weasel. I move quickly to one side. The club strikes the fire and makes the sparks and ashes fly out all about like fire flies on the tree in the wet lands on a summer night. Then my heart whispers, “ Swift moccasins!” So I run. But tho’ I run fast he gains on me. I know he will catch me so I wait till he is almost upon me, then I again jump to one side. He is like an angry buffalo bull with an arrow in his side. He has charged and missed. Again he charges and I gather all my little strength

Angry Face to keep running and dodging till Kage comes back, for I know he will not let Angry Face kill me. I do not want to walk on the four days journey alone! Bad spirits may get me. Then I do not want to die. The Wa-kon-dah put me here that I might one day be a big squaw; that a strong brave might one day play a love call on his flute for me — for me and for no other maid. Then we would have our own tipi in the moons of summer and a lodge for the winter moons. The Wa-kon-dah made me that in our lodge should be many children to be happy in the beautiful world; to love the big blue sky when the sun walks; to know the mighty mystery when the water falls from the skies and the Thunder Bird speaks; to know all the birds, all the animals, all the creeping things of earth; to dream in the pleasant mystery of the dusk, — ‘Hhe-face-hidden-in-the-darkness,” we call it.

So the fight is in my heart to stay here. The Wa-kon-dah is not ready for me to go to the land of ghosts. It is not time. Then I stop still. I raise my hand. I call to him as I have heard my father do. And as I call the Thunder Voices roar across the sky and Angry Face stops a moment. We have run from the fire. I catch the breath that has gone from me but I let my eyes rest on him all the while. He is Yanktonai. It may be he does not fear the Thunder Voice. It speaks to the Ma-has but I do not know whether the ears of the Yanktonai know that tongue.

Again he starts but again I jump to one side. I am like the game of bowl and counters — the game of i'-u-tin* He cannot guess where I will be. His face grows more like the angry sky.

Even now I can feel that heavy hand on my long black braids of hair. As he pulls me to the earth I think that my braids have not been freshly braided for two sun walks. And I know that he will kill me so I close my eyes and have no tears; no pain in the throat. I will go as the braves go. But the club does not fall and my hair is no longer pulled. I hear a soft moccasin, then a quick angry voice. It says no words. It makes only one quick sound as a bear growls. So I open my eyes.

It is Kage! I do not clap my hands. It is not the custom of my people. I sit up. I look. It is good to my eyes to see the fight. My only fear is that Kage will not win! But I smile when I think of how I have tired the old fat buffalo by making him run!

* e'-oo-tin.

Kage is tall and thin and fresh with muscles like those of a wild animal. — Yes, he beats Angry Face. I wonder why he does not kill him! Then I know it is not to be so. I am only a little Ma-ha captive. A Yanktonai will not kill another for a little captive maid. But Kage gives a cry that says “Ahai! — Touch not the little captive again. She is mine.” Kage is young. I can tell that. He has never had a lodge. I think he will have a lodge soon, for when a young brave is good to a little child I have heard the old women say he will soon have a lodge.

Then we all go back to the camp fire. We cook the birds Kage has killed. Each bird is put on a little stick and held over the coals. Kage laughs and lets me hold one. Angry Face lets his eyes talk to his moccasins. He eats his bird almost raw, then walks to the hill top to be the eyes for us while the Owl eats. When the Owl comes his eyes ask questions. He has seen the fight. But he says no word. The red men use few lip words. They read much from signs. They speak with silence. So I look into the face of Kage. His eyes speak the look I give to my little dog. I know he will take good care of me. I would not let any one kill my little dog.

As the-f ace-hidden-in-darkness comes on we all camp together. Kage puts me inside his robe, close to him, for the night is cold. But I saw the look in his eyes in the firelight and I know what he fears. He fears I will try to escape. He fears that Angry Face will catch me.

The firelight grows softer and softer; a big silence filled with noises comes over us and is all about us. I hear the frogs croak in the marshlands; hear the clamor of the great flocks of geese disturbed by some hungry beast; once a coyote howls because he has failed to find the nest of shu , the prairie chicken. He is hungry. I like the voice of the coyote. It sounds big and long and ripples all over the great stillness of night time on the prairie like a rock thrown into big, still water. Yet I fear the howl of the coyote, so I creep closer to Kage. He is like a squaw. He holds me closer to his side. I put my little brown hand on the face of Kage and I know he is pleased as I am pleased when my little dog licks my hand. And when I think of my little dog I weep softly and Kage strokes my hair. I think it is sad that Kage is of the Yanktonai. I wish he were a Ma-ha.

In the deep night my eyes open. All the stars have gone to sleep. The sky is dark like the hair of our people. I put out my hand to take hold of the darkness. It is so black I think it is a robe. It feels wet. But it is not the rain wet. It is different. I try to pretend that I am too warm. I do not try to steal away. I roll over and push the robe angrily from me. I know it will waken Kage. I hope to get outside the robe. Then when he again gets sleep hungry I will steal away.

Kage puts his hand out too. I wonder if he knows it is in my head to escape in the mist? We call it the-smoke-on-the-earth. But he lets me lie outside the robe.

A cold like the chill of the dead from the swamp land creeps through my bones. I am too cold to be sleep hungry again. Kage will sleep before I do. It is warm inside his robe. Sometimes I want to crawl back but when I think of that I know that every day I get further and further from my people; that it will be harder to find my way back; that tonight they cannot follow me, and that because Angry Face is tired he sleeps as the bear sleeps in the winter moons.

It is time for me to escape. This I know. But it is lonesome and the darkness is full of fears. I do not like to leave Kage now. I listen to his breathing. Yes, he is asleep. I could move away quietly and escape. But I am so cold I cannot move fast. I cannot see where my moccasins will take me. I have no dried meat nor parched corn with me. I may starve. My little bones may have so little meat on them in a few sun walks that even a starved coyote would not eat me. My buckskin suit would be too much trouble to tear open for the bag of bones beneath! So I grow sad for myself, the little Ma-ha girl so far away from her people! The pain comes in my neck but I make it go away. It makes me weak. So I get a strong heart and stand up softly, softly — for I must not awaken Kage. I wish I might see his good face once more. I want to pat it and to ask Kage to go back with me to my people and be a Ma-ha. But I know that would be bird chatter to say that. I keep only the thought words. I try to walk. At first I am cold and stiff but when I find I am really away from them my moccasins are glad to go fast; one after another, faster and faster.

CHAPTER II must not eat all our buffalo meat in one day or we shall be hungry for many days.

UT after a while I think it is better to | go slowly. It will make me last longer.

My father says we

So I walk more slowly, but I am still cold. I almost wish I were lying warm and sleepy beside Kage, inside his warm buffalo robe. I think much about his good face. After my moccasins have eaten many trails I see that the sun is fighting to get up. But the mist, the-smoke-on-the-earth holds him back. Then I know the mist is my friend. It is hiding me from the Yanktonais. The mist helps me because the Thunder Beings have told it to help me. I am a Ma-ha. My father’s prayer smoke and the prayer smoke of On-pon* the Elk, have had an answer! My heart is quiet.

* Ong'-pong.

But my little belly is empty. It rattles against my ribs. My mouth is hungry for the um'-bag-the . In my mind I see the plant that looks like tripe in the cooking pot. I can almost smell the stew of the tender duck cooked with it. At last I sit down. I am so tired. My moccasins say, “No more for a time.”

But the cold goes through me, through my bones. Again I weep but I weep softly for I do not know where I am. It may be that I have not gone far. It may be that they will catch me. Yet my head tells me that they are just now opening their eyes. I stop to think of how surprised Kage will be when he wakens and sees only his dream of me, a little Ma-ha girl in his eyes! Then I think of the bad look in the eyes of Angry Face. I wonder if Kage will think he has stolen me and fight him for it. — No; when the sun shines Kage will look for signs. He will not find any! The mist has been almost like rain. It has washed away my light moccasin tracks. They cannot follow me. But Kage can see by the marks at his side that Angry Face has not taken me.

I wish the sun would smile out of the sky to get me warm, but if it does, they may see me. Again I stand and try to walk to get warm. The sun shines enough so I can see a few moccasin steps in front of me. I find a big hole. It is big enough for me to hide in but what is inside? I hear strange little whining noises. Baby wolves! If Mother Wolf is near I would almost rather take my chances with Angry Face! — No; if she has food she will be kind to me. Only man kills when he does not need food.

What is that sound I hear? The little wolves hear it, too, for they stop their whining as their mother has told them to do before she left. (I know now she is gone for food or she would have stood bristling at the mouth of the hole at the sound I hear).

It is the war cry of the feet of ponies! I lie down flat in the black hole. Through the mist comes the war song of the feet of the ponies. My eyes go hunting. The sound comes nearer. Through the mist, the smoke-of-the-earth, I see three great ponies with giant riders. I think of myself as one of the little ones of the prairies. They call them the ga-ja-zhe. They lead the people astray. I am leading the Yanktonais astray. They do not see me. They come closer and closer. They do not ride fast. The ponies cannot see the gopher holes. They might step in and break their legs. I draw back into the shadow but as they pass so close I almost touch them I see that Kage’s head is bowed. I know he misses me. He fears the animals will get me or that I may starve. I fear it, too, but I am a Ma-ha. I must not run out to him. So slowly, slowly I see the great shapes fade away, away, swallowed up by my friend the mist sent to help me by the Thunder Beings.

Mother Wolf

They are gone. The pain comes in my neck again and I whine like the little wolves I hear inside. I am so cold and so hungry I forget to fear the mother wolf. The water comes to my eyes and I crawl back to the wolf zhinga-zhingas and get myself warm with their soft furry little hides. At first they draw back but soon they tumble over and about me like little dogs. They lick my face and hands. I am so sleep hungry I lie down but I keep saying to myself that I must not sleep for Mother Wolf may come home. She will be as angry as a hostile Yanktonai. Yet it is so warm in there after the cold outside that I find myself thinking I may as well trust her because I am Jca-ge to her children, — her zhinga-zhingas — as to let hunger and cold kill me.

She comes home. I have slept. I do not have to open my eyes to know that the yellow eyes are shining on me. I can feel her hot breath on my face. I can hear the little ones jumping and pawing about her to get their milk. They paw me and lick me. I feel her sniff me. By that time the little ones have pawed and licked me so much that I have the smell of a wolf. But I think I shall keep on sleeping. My moccasins are still tired and my bones ache. I smell fresh meat as she drops something on one side of the hole near me. Then she throws herself down and the little ones fight for places to get their milk. I sleep again.

After a time I hear soft movements. She sniffs me again. This time she licks me. My hair stands stiff as the quills of the little hedgehog. Maybe she will eat me! She is big and strong! But I smell too much like the cubs. She goes out. Then I open my eyes. The little ones are all full of belly. They sleep. I reach out and take the dirty scraps of raw rabbit flesh that still cling to the bones in the comer. They are better than the um'-bag-the to my mouth! Then I get up and look out of the mouth of the cave. It is sun high. It is warm outside. The smoke-on-the-earth is gone. The sky is blue like the flower of the water flags. I wish to go to a hill top and lie down and dream in the stillness. Little grass birds are building their nests. I stand up and look about. Which way are the tipis of my people? It is a long way for little moccasins to eat. I must not go in the wrong direction. I think: The three Yanktonais must have ridden toward their people. They are riding toward where-cold-comes-from. So I must travel south, — “ toward-the-heat,” we say. But I must look for more food and find a trail which will give me a soft place to sleep to-night. It will be cold. Again I wonder if it was wise to leave Kage. But it is too late to wear sad looks. I must go on. The

Thunder Beings will help me. But I hope they will not speak at night time.

I find I am on the top of a high hill. The moccasins of my eyes can travel far. My head tells me what trail to take. Far away I can see the big river. We call it “They-who-come-floating-down-dead.” Once many bodies of a strange tribe came floating past the tipis of the Ma-has. The water is muddy and looks like the Angry Face. I know my people are on the side of it towards where the sun goes to sleep and I know, too, that we have traveled toward the Star-That-Moves-Not. I cannot see the star now but I know the Yanktonais went toward it, so I shall go the other way.