II — Pu-nak′-ik-si (Cutbank)
July 18
Down came our lodges this morning, and to-night we are camped in Cutbank Canyon, just below the great beaver ponds some six or seven miles from the head of the stream. When I first saw these ponds, years and years ago, they were dotted with beaver houses, and at dusk one could see the busy woodcutters swimming from them in all directions to get their evening meal of willow or quaking aspen bark, preparatory to beginning their nightly work of storing food for winter use. I never killed a beaver, but I have torn down beaver dams in order to watch the little animals repair them. Beavers have a language as well as men: there was always a chief engineer who told the workers just what to do, and he himself rectified their mistakes.
We are encamped right on the main war road of the Blackfeet into the country of the West Side tribes. Once, when camped here with the Small Robes (I-nuk′-siks), the band, or gens, of which I was a member, I saw a party of our young men make their preparations and start westward on a raid. They gathered in a sweat lodge with an old medicine man, who prayed earnestly for their success while he sprinkled the hot rocks with water, and dense steam filled the place. And at dusk, carrying in painted rawhide cylinders their war finery, and in little sacks their extra moccasins, awl and sinew for repairs, and their little paint bags, they stole out in single file from the camp and headed for the summit of the range.
Every evening, during their absence, the old medicine man rode all through the camp, shaking his medicine rattles, singing the song for the absent, calling over and over each one’s name, and praying for his safe return.
And then, one morning some two weeks later, they came into camp with a rush, driving before them sixty or seventy horses that they had taken from the Kootenais. And two carried a slender wand from which dangled a scalp. They came in singing the song of victory; and then the war chief shouted: “A multitude of the enemy are on our trail. Break camp, you women, and move down river. Take your weapons, you men, and turn back with us!”
We took our weapons. We mounted our horses and rode like mad up the old war trail, and within a half-hour sighted the enemy, forty or fifty of them, strung out in a long, straggling line, according to the strength and speed of each one’s horse. We exchanged a few shots with the lead riders; one fell; the rest took their back trail, and how they did go up the steep incline to the summit, and over it. We did not pursue them: “Let them go!” Bear Chief shouted. “We have many of their horses; we have scalped three of them; let them go!”
We “let them go!” and, indeed, that was the wiser way: they could have made a stand at the summit and shot us down as fast as we came on.
The old war road! How many of my people have traveled over it, some of them never to return. It was along this road that Pi′tamakan, virgin woman warrior, led her warriors in what was to be her last raid! But how many, many times our people have come rushing homeward over it, singing their songs of victory, waving the scalps they have taken, and driving before them great bands of the horses of the Pend d’Oreilles, the Snakes, the Nez Percés, and other tribes of the Columbia River watershed.
The names the Blackfeet have given to the four world directions are most significant of their entry into this Missouri River country. North is ap-ut′-o-sohts: back, or behind direction. South, ahm-ska′-pohts, is ahead direction. East is pi-na′-pohts: down-river direction; and west is ah-me′-tohts: up-river direction. I have told why the Two Medicine was so named, when the Blackfeet came into the country from the Far North, and drove the Crows before them. This river they named Pu-nak′-ik-si (Cutbank), because its narrow valley for a long way up from its junction with the Two Medicine is walled in by straight-cut cliffs.
The Cutbank River Valley, like those of all the other streams of the country, has been the scene of many a fight between the Blackfeet and their enemies, in which the Blackfeet were generally the victors. A remarkable instance of an old woman’s bravery occurred just below here some forty years ago.
A few lodges of the Kut′-ai-im-iks, or Never Laughs band of the Blackfeet, in need of the skins of elk and bighorn for making “buckskin” for light clothing and moccasin tops, were here hunting, and one evening all the men gathered in old Running Crane’s lodge for prayers with his beaver medicine. An old woman, named Muk-sin-ah′-ki (Angry Woman), was sitting in her lodge by herself because there had not been room for her in the crowded beaver medicine lodge. But she was listening to the distant singing, and saying over the prayers at the proper time, her heart full of peace and love for the gods.
As she sat there at the back of the lodge, she suddenly noticed that the doorway curtain in the upper part was being slowly pulled aside to the width of a hand, and in that small space an eye glared at her for a time, and then the curtain dropped back to place.
“That was the eye of an enemy,” she said to herself. Her heart throbbed painfully; and for the time her thoughts were confused. Then, suddenly, some one, perhaps the sun himself, told her to take courage. She took courage: she stole out of the lodge to see what that enemy was doing. There was a moon; bright starlight; the night was almost as light as day; and she had no more than left the lodge than she saw the man walking here, there, examining the buffalo runners, the best and swiftest horses of the people, all picketed close to the lodges of their owners. Whenever the man’s back was toward her, she hurried her steps; got closer and closer to him; and then, suddenly, she sprang and seized him from behind and shouted: “Help! Help! I have seized an enemy!”
In the beaver medicine lodge the men heard her and came running to her relief. She had the man down; he was struggling to rise; but the sun must have given her of his power: she held him firmly until they came, and they seized him, and White Antelope stabbed him to death. He was a Gros Ventre.
How Mountain Chief Found His Horses
“Nephew, listen! Magic took place here in the long ago,” said Yellow Wolf as we sat around his lodge fire this evening.
“The Ah′-pai-tup-i4 were hunting on this Cutbank stream, every day or two moving nearer and nearer to the mountains. At one of their camping-places some distance below here, Mountain Chief lost his two fast buffalo runners, and although all the young men of the camp scattered out to look for them, they could not be found. Camp was moved nearer to the mountains, and after a few days moved again, this time to this very place where we are now encamped.
“The loss of the two buffalo runners was all that Mountain Chief could think about. As they could not be found, he felt sure that some enemy had stolen them.
“There was a Kootenai Indian visiting in camp, and one day he entered Mountain Chiefs lodge, and said to him: ‘You are grieving about the loss of your two fast horses. Now, if you will do as I say, perhaps I can find them for you.’
“‘Whatever you ask, that shall be done,’ Mountain Chief told him.
“‘First, then, you must give me a robe, a good bow, and a quiver of arrows,’ said the Kootenai.
“‘They are yours; there they are: my own weapons, that robe. Take them when you want them,’ said the chief.
“‘I will take them later,’ said the Kootenai. ‘And now, call in your leading men.’
“Mountain Chief went outside and shouted the names of the men he wanted: a medicine man; several old, wise men; some warriors of great name. They came and were given seats in his lodge, each man according to his standing in the tribe. Said the Kootenai then: ‘I have a sacred song that I want you all to learn. I will sing it over three or four times, then you sing it with me.’
“He sang the song. It was low in tone, and slow; a strange and beautiful song that gripped one’s heart. But it was not hard to learn; after the Kootenai had sung it over four times, all there could sing it with him.
“Then the Kootenai told Mountain Chief to have the women build for him a little lodge there inside the big lodge. This they did by leaning the sticks of two tripods against one of the poles of the lodge, their lower ends making a half-circle, and then covering them with buffalo leather. Into this little enclosure crept the Kootenai, taking with him a bird wing-bone whistle, and a medicine rattle, and as soon as he was inside he ordered the women to smooth down carefully the leather coverings so that he would be in the dark. He then said to the people, sitting there in the big lodge: ‘We will now sing the song four times. It is a call song to all living things: the birds, the animals, the trees, the rocks—yes, even they have life. All will come when we sing this song, and we will question them as to the whereabouts of the two missing horses.’
“They sang the song four times, and then the Kootenai, alone in his dark little lodge, sang another song, keeping time to it with his rattle, and the people, listening, heard outside the sighing of the wind through a big pine tree, although no such tree was near; and the Kootenai questioned the pine tree, and it answered that it had no knowledge of the missing horses.
“Then, at his summons, came the different birds and the animals; one could hear outside the flutter of their wings, the tread of their feet; and the Kootenai questioned them, and one by one they answered that they had not seen the horses. Came then a big rock, hurtling down through the sky and through the smoke hole of the lodge right into the fireplace, scattering ashes and coals all around the lodge, and frightening the people sitting there. And the Kootenai questioned it, and it answered that it knew nothing of the lost horses.
“‘Let us sing the sacred song again,’ the Kootenai called out from his dark little lodge, and the people sang it with him, not once, but four times. The Kootenai then blew his whistle four times, four long, loud whistles. At the time there was no wind, but soon they heard, far off, the roar of an approaching wind of terrible force. Said the Kootenai then: ‘I have called him, he is coming, Old-Man-of-the-Winds: be not afraid; he will not harm you.’
“He came with dreadful whirlwinds of his making. Winds that shook the lodge, and made the lodge ears hum with the noise of that of a hundred swarms of bees. And then, suddenly, the wind fell, and outside the people heard this wind god ask: ‘Why have you sung—why have you whistled for me—what is it you want to know?’
“The Kootenai answered: ‘Mountain Chief, here, has lost his two best horses. Fast buffalo runners they are; both black; one with a white spot on his side. I called you to ask if you have seen them anywhere?’
“‘No, I have not seen them,’ Old-Man-of-the-Winds answered. ‘As you know, I belong on the west side of this Backbone-of-the-World. It is from there that I start the winds that blow over your country. I have been no farther out than here. No, I have not seen the horses.’
“‘Now I am depressed,’ the Kootenai exclaimed. ‘I did not expect to learn much about this from the birds, the animals, trees, and rocks, even the bumblebee could tell me nothing; but I felt that you would surely know where the two horses are!’
“‘Well, I have a friend who can tell you what you want to know,’ said Old-Man-of-the-Winds. ‘He is Red-Top Plume. He lives in the clouds; he can see the whole country; undoubtedly he can tell you where those horses are.’
“‘He is a stranger to me. How shall I find him—this Red-Top Plume?’ the Kootenai asked; and all the people held their breath, waiting to hear the answer. Here was sacred talk; talk of a man with a god, and about gods: they could hardly believe that it was real, that which they were hearing.
“Answered Old-Man-of-the-Winds: ‘Watch the clouds. When you see one of them turning from white to red, as the sun goes down to his lodge on his island in the great sea, you will know that Red-Top Plume is there above you. That red cloud is his plume. Yes, when you see that, sing your song again four times; blow your whistle again four times, and he will answer you.’
“And with that the wind suddenly started to blow from the east, and Old-Man-of-the-Winds went with it back to his western home, and they heard him no more.
“From his dark little lodge in the big lodge, the Kootenai called out to Mountain Chief: ‘Go, stand outside your lodge, watch for a cloud turning red, and when you see it, come inside and tell me that it is there above us.’
“Mountain Chief went outside. He looked up and saw but a few small, white, slowly drifting clouds in the sky. There were four of them straight above him. These drifted toward one another, and he cried out: ‘A sign! A sacred sign! Four small clouds are getting together to make one large cloud!’
“And at that all the people in the lodge cried out: ‘The sacred number! Oh, sun! Oh, Above People all! Pity us! Pity us all! Allow us to survive all dangers! Give us long life and happiness!’
“And then, as the sun was setting, Mountain Chief cried out: ‘The four are now one large cloud, and its edge is beginning to turn red! Ai! The red, the sacred color, spreads over it!’
“His voice trembled. Himself, he trembled; for he knew that he was looking—not at an ordinary cloud, but at Red-Top Plume himself, the great cloud god!
“‘Come in! Come in!’ the Kootenai cried to him. And he went back into the lodge and joined in the singing of the sacred song. Four times they sang it, oh, how earnestly! The Kootenai then blew his wing-bone whistle four times. Followed a silence; the people scarcely daring to breathe. And then they heard outside, in a deep and beautiful voice: ‘I am Red-Top Plume! Why have you called me here?’
“‘Red-Top Plume! God of the clouds! Pity us!’ the Kootenai answered. ‘It is a matter of horses; of two fast buffalo runners; both black; one with a white spot on its side. We have lost them. Have you—oh, have you seen them anywhere?’
“‘That is a small thing to call me down about,’ the sky god answered; ‘but, since I am here, I will tell you what I know: Yes, I have seen them. I saw them just now as I came down to earth. They are standing beside the spring just up the hill from where you camped when you lost them.’
“‘Ah! Ah! Ah!’ the people exclaimed in hushed voices. And the Kootenai, questioner of gods and unafraid, cried out: ‘Red-Top Plume! Sacred plumed god of the clouds! You are good to us. Tell us, now, what we can do for you—what sacrifice to do?’
“But he got no answer. Red-Top Plume had gone—gone back to his home in the sky, and the people, rushing out from the lodge, looked up and saw him moving slowly eastward, his beautiful plumes redder than ever. And while the Kootenai and Mountain Chief and the other warriors made sacrifice to him, some young men mounted their horses and rode back to the camping-place where the two horses had been lost, and lo! they found them near the spring where Red-Top Plume had told that they were standing.”
Notes
4 Ah′-pai-tup-i (Blood People). One of the twenty-four gentes of the Pi-kun′-i, or “Piegan” Blackfeet. Back