Читать книгу The Essential Works of Luther Standing Bear - Luther Standing Bear - Страница 10

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About 1875 we were camped near the big White River, some forty miles east of the Black Hills. The Sioux tribe then numbered about twenty thousand souls, as the Pine Ridge and Rosebud Reservation Indians were together.

My father came home from council one day, and told my mother to get ready to move, as the tribe was going to the northern part of Nebraska, where the indications of buffalo were then very plentiful.

Early the following morning I was called to climb to the top of the tipi and remove the pins, or little sticks, that held the tipi together. In a few minutes it was down, and we were moving toward the south. We boys climbed on our ponies and rode alongside the moving caravan, chasing everything in sight. We made three camps before we arrived at the point where it was thought likely the buffalo would be.

At sundown we all gathered together about a big fire made of buffalo chips, which burned like coal. It was a calm, clear night, and the smoke from the camp-fire went straight up into the air. All the older men got together and were talking about something in a very quiet way. Finally two of them arose and looked all over the assemblage, apparently searching for some one. Finally they picked a young man, not very large or stout, but withal a very reliable man in every way. He knew every foot of the country and where to locate the water-holes. He was brave, and perfectly able to travel alone at night in all sorts of weather, and was also able to protect himself if he encountered enemies.

This man was chosen as a scout. After being notified, he went to his tipi to get what he intended to carry with him. When he returned, all I saw him have was his quiver full of arrows and a very strong bow. He wore nothing but a breech-cloth and plain moccasins. Around his neck was a twisted buckskin string which held his bag of medicine. When he returned to the gathering, about twenty men and women were singing for him. He ran around the fire three times, and the fourth time he sped off into the darkness. The fire was then extinguished.

The old man who always acted as herald then came around to every tipi, warning the inmates to be very quiet. The moon was shining, although it was yet very early. But we were warned that if we played, we must be careful not to make any noise. It seemed as if even the babies, dogs, and ponies minded the order.

Our scout remained absent all night. Early in the morning the same old man passed by every tipi before sunrise. He called out ‘Co-o-co-o!’ which meant, ‘Get ready!’ In a short time every tipi was down. As soon as the old man had passed, fires were made, breakfast cooked, and the camp was moving before sunrise.

Twelve old men were the leaders of this camp. One of them carried a burning buffalo chip on the end of his lance. They went away up on a hill, where they could be seen for a long distance. Here they built a big fire. They did not attempt to avoid being seen, as there were no enemies around.

While these men were watching for the return of the scout, the others dismounted and took off their saddles to give the horses a rest, and to dry the backs of the animals if they had become sweaty. The women were busy repacking their bundles. Even we boys found many things to keep us busy.

Presently one of the old men arose and exclaimed, ‘Hi-ye-he!’ which meant that our scout was returning. Then we were very happy. The fire was rebuilt by adding more chips, and the men gathered halfway around the flames, all sitting down, with the women and children behind them. The dogs and ponies also instinctively drew closer, as if they, too, wanted to hear the report.

One old man near the fire held the pipe of peace, which he pointed in the direction from which the scout was approaching. We could see him at a great distance on top of a hill. Here he stood for quite a while. Finally he ran to the east about a half-mile, then about the same distance toward the west; then he ran straight toward where we were gathered around the fire.

We all understood, when he ran to the east and then to the west, that he had seen many herds of buffalo. He approached the fire on the opposite side from us. Then he sat down, and the old man offered him the peace pipe. He stretched out both arms, passing the pipe three times, but the fourth time he accepted the pipe. After drawing a few whiffs he handed it back. Everybody exclaimed, ‘Ha-ho!’ meaning ‘Thank you.’ His reason for smoking the peace pipe was that he would tell nothing but the truth.

After this ceremony, the scout started in to tell where he had seen the buffalo, how many there appeared to be, and how quietly they were resting and not being disturbed by any enemy. This was all good news, because the buffalo would have acted as if restless if enemies were near. When the scout pointed he used his thumb instead of the first finger. His work was now finished, and he returned to his tipi.

The old man who carried the pipe now gave the order to move ahead. The buffalo were not far distant, so the hunters began to get ready for the attack. They went ahead of our camp, riding their ponies and leading the best horses. As no extra weight was ever put on these fast horses, they were always fresh and ready for a long run as soon as the buffalo were sighted.

Yet, even though the hunters knew where the buffalo were, they were not allowed to get ahead of each other. If one buffalo was shot, it would stampede the entire herd; so the men were to keep together, because this hunt was for the winter’s supply of meat. To make sure that none of these hunters tried to be tricky and get ahead of some other hunter, three men rode with them with war-clubs in their hands, which they were to use on any hunter who tried to ‘get funny,’ as the white man calls it. It was very seldom that a hunter was foolish enough to do anything which called for such punishment.

The three men with the clubs ran to the top of a hill. They figured out the best place to go in order to get as close to the herd as possible without being detected. Soon they told the hunters to get on their best horses. The men rode without saddles, the reins being held on their bridle-arm. As the horses were trained hunting animals, they knew just what was expected of them.

As soon as the hunters appeared at the top of the hill, the buffalo sighted them. Some of the animals were lying down quietly. Now they began to rise and huddle together, viewing the approaching horsemen with symptoms of alarm. The three men with the clubs were still riding back and forth, watching the hunters, as it was not yet just time for the slaughter to begin. As they drew closer to the herd, the command was given to them to commence the attack.

The men were all ready and impatient. They rode as fast as possible, and when they sent an arrow into an animal, it was shot so as to penetrate the heart if possible. Soon a great cloud of dust arose, as the buffalo stampeded, and the hunters had to be very watchful that they were not surrounded and trampled beneath the hoofs of the ponderous beasts. The dust was so dense that it was impossible to see very far in any direction. Hunting buffalo under these conditions was a very dangerous proposition.

The men killed only what they thought was enough for the camp. They did not pursue the animals all day, nor did they kill for sport. When they returned home with the meat, we were all very happy. The women cooked, and then began to prepare dried meat for the cold days that were to come. Quite often the snow lay very deep in the winter, and our hunters could not get out for many days; but if there was plenty of dried meat we did not worry.

Soon after this hunt, we moved our camp up on the ‘Minia-tanka-wakpala,’ or ‘big water creek,’ which, interpreted into English, means the Niobrara River. We still numbered about twenty thousand. We had plenty of dried buffalo meat, but, as the weather was pleasant, one of the men went out deer-hunting. We all liked a change of meat.

This hunter soon returned, and reported that he had seen smoke in the distance, and that the deer were moving away from that direction very rapidly. That night all the chiefs and warriors held council. They selected three men to go out and scout around to determine the cause of the smoke. Then an order was issued that nobody in camp was to light a big fire. Every one must remain quiet, and the ponies kept close at hand.

There was not very much sleeping done in camp that night. Some of the men remained with their horses, and the young men kept watch around the camp all night. We had to be very careful, not knowing but that enemies had scouts out watching our camp.

The next day about noon the scouts returned. They reported seeing some Pawnee Indians on our hunting-grounds. These Indians were our enemies. Instantly all the warriors began to get ready to go on the war-path, and great excitement prevailed.

My father brought his own horse in, as well as an extra one for me. He was ready, and wanted me to go with him. All the chiefs had gathered in a large tipi to a council, and one of the men came out and turned my father’s horses loose. This meant that they did not want him to go. But he was a very brave man; so he got his own best horse and started off alone toward the enemy. As soon as the braves saw him leave, they did not wait, but got on their ponies and started after him, leaving our village without any men to defend it, save the old men.

My grandfather told me he was not going to fight, but was going after buffalo, as we were out of fresh meat. So he saddled a horse for me to accompany him. We did not go very far until we heard a thundering of hoofs. Looking over the hill we observed about a hundred buffalo coming toward us. Grandfather got me safely behind the hill and told me to be careful, as our enemies, the Pawnees, had doubtless frightened these buffalo. The noise made by the approach of the animals sounded like an earthquake, and the thought that perhaps the Pawnees were right behind them was not a very comforting one for a little fellow like myself. Grandfather told me to remain where I was, while he gave chase after the animals.

The buffalo came running along and Grandfather started after them just as they turned off at the hill. He wore only a breech-cloth and moccasins. After the buffalo had all passed, I looked over the hill. There was my grandfather, with his two braids of hair tied together, skinning a buffalo, which he had killed without any noise.

Leading my horse, I walked over where he was and sat down to watch him skin the buffalo. Every once in a while I would glance uneasily about, as we knew our enemies were very near. Soon the skin was off, and then the butchering began. My grandfather carried very sharp knives, also a few small sticks, which the old men called ‘pipe trimmers.’

He cut out a fine piece of tripe, or lining of the stomach of the buffalo, washed it in the blood and gave it to me to eat raw, with some of the marrow from one of the front leg bones. I obtained this marrow with one of the small sticks which he gave me. The Sioux in those days learned to eat raw meat, so when we were in the enemy’s country and did not dare light a fire, we could still get along. To the white boys or girls of to-day, this would not appear very appetizing; but we were taught to eat what was considered good for us, and not to ask questions about it. We did not know what it meant, in those days, to be anæmic.

My grandfather was very busy while I was eating. He put the skin of the buffalo over my horse, with the hair side down, after tying all the meat together with rawhide ropes which he cut from the raw skin. He then hung the meat over my horse’s back against the flesh side of the buffalo skin. After it was all ready, he pulled the skin over to cover the fresh meat, and I climbed on top to ride. There was such a big load that my two legs stuck out very straight.

We reached the village safely, and everybody was so glad we had some fresh meat. A big fire was then built, and the whole sides of the buffalo tied to sticks and swung back and forth over the fire. While the meat was roasting, the women pulled weeds and strewed them on the ground to sit on. A shade was also erected. After the meat was done to a turn, we had a real barbecue, which was heartily enjoyed, in spite of the fact that we had no coffee, bread, or cake; but we were very thankful for the fresh buffalo meat.

In a few days we saw some of our war-party returning. One of the men in advance was waving a scalp. This caused great excitement. The men paraded around the village; but my father came home between two young men, being badly wounded. He went right to our tipi. Everybody appeared to be happy and rejoicing. I went in to see my father.

He was sitting on a buffalo robe, with his back against a tripod of wood. He was very quiet, so I did not go near him, as I knew he was wounded and would soon have the medicine man. So we boys decided to go bird-hunting. When we returned I went to our tipi. My father was telling some of the old men about the fight. It seems that the Pawnees had moved north, as the game was more abundant there. They knew this was the hunting-ground of the Sioux, so the warriors had secreted their women, children, and horses in a dry creek bed. As our tribe came over, the Pawnees expected they would run into them, and were on the lookout. My father rode his horse in quite near to them, and then turned away, confident that some of the enemy would follow him. He had a very swift horse, which made it difficult for the Pawnees to overtake him. But they rode after him, which gave some of our men a chance to surround and kill several of them. My father then tried the same tactics a second time; but not many of the Pawnees pursued him, as several of the first band of the tribe had not returned.

But the Sioux were spoiling for a fight, and they charged right at the Pawnees. Several hundred of them were killed in the battle which followed, and many of their women, children, and horses were captured.

When my grandfather asked my father if he had killed any of the enemy, he replied, very calmly, ‘Oh, I only killed seven of them.’ My father never got excited over anything. Finally he remarked that they had several of the Pawnees as prisoners, and that they were being held in one of the tipis.

The next day several of the boys, myself among the number, wanted to see these prisoners. The village was about one mile in width, and we walked across to the place where they were being held. Among the prisoners was a tall, slim youth, and we wanted to play with him very much—just so we could touch him. This was the first opportunity we boys had had to touch an enemy. So we coaxed him to come out of the tipi and show us how fast he could run. As he had been wounded, he could not make very fast speed; but we were satisfied with having had the chance to touch him.

Soon the chiefs held a council, and it was decided to send the prisoners home. Each man who had captured a prisoner was to give that person clothing and a horse. It cost something to capture a man or a woman in those days. All the Pawnees were dressed in Sioux clothing and started up the hill in company with some of our own braves. They were escorted quite a distance from our camp and turned loose.

We watched the prisoners leave with some of our own warriors, and never expected to see the strangers again. But when I was in Carlisle Indian School, in Pennsylvania, some Pawnee Indians were brought in, and among them was the tall, slim boy. We recognized each other immediately.

Now that the prisoners had left, every one in our camp got ready for the big victory dance. All the men who had been in the battle took part, each man dressed in the clothing he had worn in the fight. Those who had been wounded painted the spot a bright red, to represent blood. If a horse had been wounded, the animal was brought into the dance and painted where it had been struck by a bullet. Even the horses received praise for the part they had taken in the battle.

The scouts who had gone out first wore eagle feathers which had been trimmed down. Those who had killed an enemy wore an eagle feather straight up at the back of the head. If he had been wounded while killing an enemy, the feather was painted red. Those who had worn war-bonnets in the fight also wore them in the dance. Some carried scalps. There were no false credits given at this dance, but every warrior received his just merits. One could easily tell just what the standing was of those who participated in the dance. Several days were consumed before the victory dance was finished. Then we all settled down again in peace and quiet.

THE PIPE OF PEACE