Part 9

Special invocation dances were held irregularly, often several times during one season. One or several or many persons would perform the rites. At a buffalo dance the intent was to obtain the aid of the Great Medicine in our efforts at getting the meat and skins of these animals. Deer dances, elk dances, antelope dances, were engaged upon by individuals, by parties or by the tribe. The object was to enlist spiritual forces to help us in gathering meat and skins. Berry dances, by few or by many people, had a like incentive. Always the dances were in summer, none of them in winter. Always there was self denial in various forms, sacrifices were made in various ways. At times the self denial was carried to the point of bodily torture. That was our way of paying in advance for the favors asked. That was all we could do by way of payment.

The spirits of animals joined themselves often to assist or to hinder human beings. Sometimes one would give its medicine to a man, at other times some animal would break a man’s medicine, or would try to do so. At my father’s lodge an old man, Pockmarked Nose, told of a certain experience that came to him. My father afterward told me.

Pockmarked Nose went one time with a young man to hunt buffalo. They were on horseback and were leading pack horses to bring back the meat and skins. They traveled up and down hills and over the level plains. Finally they found a band of buffalo. They got themselves ready and charged into the band. The young man had a bow and arrows, Pockmarked Nose had a flintlock gun. He killed a buffalo. Just afterward a shot came from somewhere aside and another buffalo went down. That shot from aside puzzled the two hunters, but they rode on. Each time the old man or the young man killed a buffalo the shot from aside brought down another to match it. But, who was doing this shooting? Was it a friend or an enemy? They could not see anybody. When six buffalo lay dead on the plain the old man applied himself at discovering the identity of the third hunter. Far off, on a slight elevation of the land, stood a dimly outlined human figure. Pockmarked Nose rode toward it.

Was it the Above Spirit, the Great Medicine? Or was it a below spirit? Or was some powerful medicine man playing tricks? Pockmarked Nose did not know, and he never did find out to his satisfaction. The stranger had a wooden gun. He said: “Come, I give you this medicine gun. It never fails to kill.” Pockmarked Nose took and kept the offered gun. I do not know what use he may have made of it.

My father himself saw a marvelous example of the spirit powers regularly belonging to the deer tribe. When he was a young man he and a companion were hunting near the medicine water[11] not far from the present town of Sheridan, Wyoming. They saw bubbles coming up and bursting upon the water’s surface. They went up close, to learn what was causing this agitation. As they peered down into the deep but clear lake they saw there a deer moving about and quietly grazing along the bottom. While they were watching the animal it stopped grazing and floated slowly up to the water’s surface. My father killed it with an arrow. He skinned it, cut the meat from the bones, wrapped the skin about the meat and loaded the bundle upon his packhorse. At his home lodge he stood out and called the names of various friends. He invited them:

“Come, feast with me. Good deer meat.”

But when he shouted these words the flesh and the skin all jumped together and formed again the same live deer he had killed. The animal went running away. It ran back to the medicine water, plunged into it and disappeared. My father searched for it, but he could not see it. He told me he did not understand how a deer could do such things except it were by the help of the Great Medicine.

Three of our medicine men invited some of us young men into a tepee on one certain occasion when I was about fourteen or fifteen years old. They said, “We will show you how to make the winter go away so that the grass may grow, for the good of the young colts coming to our herds.” Just at that time there was a big snowstorm making the people and the horses shiver. But the three medicine men went confidently at their ceremonies.

They sent a young woman out to gather some certain kind of sprigs of vegetation. It was not tobacco, but pretty soon the medicine men had it changed into tobacco. They formed a circle with us, loaded the pipe, and soon it was passing from one to another. To each of us in turn they said: “Draw in only a little of the smoke, but draw it in slowly and deeply. Hold it there a short time, then let it flow out from wide-open lips, not in puffs from firm lips.” We did as they directed. While the smoking was being done the three old men made prayers. After a while one of them said: “Look outside.” We looked. The storm had quit, the sky had cleared, the ground was wet but bare of snow, green grass was peeping up everywhere.

Every Indian had, or tried to have, some special medicine or spirit power of his own, to bring him good fortune or to shield him from harm. He had some object or objects that held this helpful influence, or he had certain ways of doing certain acts, or he had both of these aids. I had my special protective possessions and my particular methods of using them. It was considered not prudent to reveal these things, and I never have done so, except in some features that I could not keep secret.

A powerful spirit man during my boyhood was one whose name originally was Walks Above the Earth. He was known as a man whose mind was at all times on spiritual things, who gave little or no thought to ordinary earthly matters. His name got changed, though, in his later life. This came about because of his choice of a mule for his riding animal. One time when he and Little Chief were approaching a Sioux camp somebody remarked, in derision, “Here comes that crazy Cheyenne on his mule.” That fixed upon him the name Crazy Cheyenne on a Mule. This afterward was shortened to Crazy Mule.

He had a variety of medicine powers. He put himself through many trials, so the spirits helped him. One time, when we were in camp far up the Powder river, he had four Cheyennes go up close to him and shoot at him, each in successive turn. They sent four bullets directly at his body. He was standing with his back against a tree. After the four shots had been fired he stooped forward and pulled off his moccasins. From them he poured out the four bullets. I saw this. I was eight years old. I saw him do the same feat at a time when our tribal camp was pitched on the Rosebud valley, just below where the present Forsythe road forks to go to Lame Deer and to Ashland. At another time he showed his powers when the tribe were on upper Lame Deer creek. This was just before our warriors joined the Ogallala Sioux to fight the soldiers in the fort[12] at the south of us.

Roman Nose was, I believe, the most admired of all warriors I ever saw. He was killed when I yet was a boy, but I remember him, and as I grew older I heard much talk of him as an example for the young men. The water spirits told him not to marry, so he lived a single and pure life. At various Great Medicine dances he went bravely through the bodily tortures as a sacrifice of self for the good of the tribe. White Bull, sometimes known also as Ice, was his usual medicine man adviser. In later years White Bull and others told me a great many stories illustrative of the admirable qualities of Roman Nose.

He made medicine one time when we were camped on Goose creek, a stream flowing into the upper Tongue river. The medicine water lake was not far away. At dawn Roman Nose stripped himself, made a raft of logs and went out upon the lake. He took with him his medicine pipe. He had a large buffalo robe for a bed and a small one for a pillow. No food, no water for drinking. He spent the day on his robe bed. He prayed, “Great Medicine, let me conquer all enemies,” and other prayers of this kind. He meditated upon the Above.

That night a storm came. Lightning flashed and thunder shook the earth. Waves washed upon the raft and tossed it over the surface of the water. His friends were fearful he would be drowned. Early in the morning two men went to look for him. They saw him on the raft, floating safely. They told the people, “He was not harmed.”

The second day he likewise prayed and meditated all day. His fast was continued. When that night arrived another storm came. The thunder and lightning were more active than they had been during the previous night. The waves lifted themselves higher. But when the calm morning dawned his watchers learned that nothing harmful had fallen upon him. The third day and night passed in the same manner, but the storm during the hours of darkness was yet more furious. “He surely will be killed by the water spirits tonight,” the people said. But he was not.

The fourth night the storm was a terrible one, the worst any of the Cheyennes ever had seen. They were fearful for themselves as well as for the young man on the raft. Hailstones pelted our lodges and scattered our pony herds. “He will be beaten to death,” everybody agreed. When the quiet twilight of morning came, two men went upon a hill to search over the waters. There was Roman Nose still floating on his raft. They helped him to land it and to put himself upon the shore. Not a hailstone had hit him. The water had been angry, crazy, reaching for his body, but not a drop of it had touched him. The water spirits failed to devour him. The Great Medicine prevented them. At the camp all of the old men sat themselves in a circle and listened to his rehearsal of the events of his great devotional adventure.

At a battle with soldiers on Powder river (1865) Roman Nose showed the people that he had special protection against enemies. He rode his horse several times back and forth in front of the white men. He rode slowly, not fast. The soldiers shot at him, but not a bullet went into him. They either missed him or fell back harmless. He had a strong medicine warbonnet. I did not see him defy the soldiers, but I heard a great deal of talk about it. Our camp was above the forks of Powder river and Little Powder river. The battle was down below, on Powder river. Both the Northern and the Southern Cheyenne tribes were in the upper valley, camping side by side. Both of the Great Medicine tribal lodges were in the camps, the one for our sacred Buffalo Head, and the other for the Medicine Arrows of the Southern Cheyennes.

White Bull made many medicine fasts. He told me about them. He said that one time when he was fasting and praying on a hill, not in a lodge, on the third day a doe antelope came near to him. She lay down there on the ground and gave birth to twin fawns. White Bull reached out and seized the doe’s hind feet. She struggled, but he did not release her. She promised that if he would let her go free she would give to him the two fawns. But he told her he did not want the fawns, he wanted her medicine, her spirit powers. The doe groaned and protested, but finally she agreed:

“Yes, I give you my medicine.”

He got the bear medicine also in a manner like that. When he was fasting and praying on a hill the bear came sniffing, sniffing, on his trail. It stopped suddenly as it came into his view. Both of them were startled and frightened. White Bull trusted the Great Medicine, but the bear was altogether afraid. It said, “If you will not harm me I will give you my medicine, and then you can speak fire from your mouth.” It gave him then its power over spirits. He got also the medicine of a wild hog. Perhaps he had other medicines. I do not know. He had a good reputation for doctoring sick people. I have heard him “Blaa-a-a-a,” like a doe antelope, when he was making medicine for them. I have heard him, lots of times, grunting like a hog or whoofing like a bear. I never knew how much to believe of his stories. Lots of people said he told big lies.

My father taught me some medicine practices for myself. He showed me where to gather the seed of certain grass that had power to shield me. A quantity of the seed was put into a buckskin pouch, and this I carried tied to my back hair. In the pouch was also a piece of loose buckskin. To prepare the medicine, a few seeds were pulverized between the fingers and the powder was allowed to fall upon the piece of buckskin spread out. A little saliva was mixed with it by the stirring of a finger. A slight spray of saliva then was put into the palms, after which the mixed seed and saliva medicine was taken into the palms and they were rubbed together. When they had been well rubbed they were passed all about my body or clothing, near the skin or clothing but not touching. Bullets then would be diverted and slip aside from me.

My horse was protected by the same medicine. In the same way the palms were passed all over the body of the horse, close but not touching. This would turn aside bullets from him. The hoofs were lifted and the bottom of the feet treated by the palm passing. He then would be not easily tired, would be surefooted, would not step into a hole and fall down. The palms were passed across the front of the horse’s nose. The medicine made him have a keen sense of smell and a clear eyesight. This helped him to find his way without difficulty during darkness or at any time when running.

The face painting as it was done for me by Red Haired Bear at my first medicine making was adopted as my fixed mode of battle preparation in this regard. It was a black ring about my face, including lower forehead, chin and cheeks in its circle. All of the surface enclosed in the circle was painted yellow. I kept at all times right at hand a supply of charcoal and yellow clay paint. It did not take long for me to apply them when an occasion for their need might come. With this preparation, with my best clothing, my shield, my eagle wing bone whistle, myself and my horse protected by the grass seed medicine, I was almost fearless. I was not entirely so, but almost. In every time of danger I tried to keep myself thinking:

“The Great Medicine sees me.”

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Lake DeSmet.

[12] Fort Phil Kearny.

V

_Off the Reservation._

After we had been driven from the Black Hills and that country was given to the white people my father would not stay on any reservation. He said it was no use trying to make farms as the white people did. In the first place, that was not the Indian way of living. All of our teachings and beliefs were that land was not made to be owned in separate pieces by persons and that the plowing up and destruction of vegetation placed by the Great Medicine and the planting of other vegetation according to the ideas of men was an interference with the plans of the Above. In the second place, it seemed that if the white people could take away from us the Black Hills after that country had been given to us and accepted by us as ours forever, they might take away from us any other lands we should occupy whenever they might want these other lands. In the third place, the last great treaty had allowed us to use all of the country between the Black Hills and the Bighorn river and mountains as hunting grounds so long as we did not resist the traveling of white people through it on their way to or from their lands beyond its borders. My father decided to act upon this agreement to us. He decided we should spend all of our time in the hunting region. We could do this, gaining our own living in this way, or we could be supported by rations given to us at the agency. He chose to stay away from all white people. His family all agreed with him. So, for more than a year before the great battle at the Little Bighorn we were all the time in the hunting lands.

Not all of the dissatisfied Indians stayed away from the reservations. Bands were moving to and from the hunting grounds at all times, even during the winter, but only a few remained here throughout the year. The Indians involved were both Sioux and Cheyennes, but there were many more Sioux than Cheyennes. A band of Uncpapas, led by Sitting Bull, remained entirely away from Dakota. There were at all times a big camp and some smaller camps of Ogallalas. Families or small bands of other Sioux came and went. The Cheyenne camps varied from thirty or forty lodges to two hundred or more. During the winter before the soldiers came after us the Cheyennes and Ogallalas kept near each other much of the time. We spent the earlier part of the cold weather season on Otter creek. Then we moved together over to Tongue river, setting our two camp circles near each other on the west side of the river where now is the home place of John Bigheadman, known also as All See Him.

Sugar, coffee, tobacco, ammunition, everything of that kind, were scarce with us. We were not greatly distressed because of this, but we had learned to use and to like these additions to our old ways, so we were pleased when such things came to us. We liked to get ammunition, as that helped us to kill more game. But, best of all, we liked to get tobacco. We used the plug tobacco that most white people use for chewing. We shaved it off in thin layers, using a board to lay it upon while cutting it. It was mixed with willow bark. This bark we called kinnikinick. It was the dried inside layer.

Red Haired Bear had some tobacco, just a little piece, at one time when a certain very old man came to visit him. The old man was feeble and shaky. He was a good man, so Red Haired Bear determined to give him a treat. The host got out his pipe. “Give me a knife,” he said to his woman. Then, “Get me the tobacco board.” She did as he had asked. He cut off only a little of the tobacco and mixed it with plenty of kinnikinick. He loaded his pipe and lit it. When he had sent puffs to the four directions, to the Above and to the below spirits, he handed the pipe to the guest. The old man drew in and let out one draft. He stopped a moment as if thinking intently about something. Then he drew in another draft. He let out a cloud through his nose.

“Oh, tobacco!” he exclaimed in delight.

He took deep and slow inhalations. He let them out slowly, by the mouth and by the nose. As Red Haired Bear took his turn at the pipe the old man grasped handfuls of the smoke, rubbed together his palms, sniffed them over and over, rubbed his face and his clothing. “Good, good,” he kept saying. When the pipeful had been burned he had Red Haired Bear empty very carefully the ashes, mix some more kinnikinick willow bark with them and fill the pipe with this mixture. They had a third smoke of this kind.

Four men went to the lodge of a certain medicine man. He told them he had some tobacco, and that made their hearts glad. He had a chunk of wood that looked like a plug of tobacco. He put this piece of wood upon the tobacco board and pretended to shave off slices from it to mix with kinnikinick. Even while he was shaving the stick the men were sniffing and saying, “Oh, good tobacco.” They smoked four pipefuls. The ashes were saved carefully. They were mixed then with other kinnikinick and four more pipefuls were smoked. The four men went away praising their host for having given them such fine entertainment.

As Cheyennes came to us from the agency they brought coffee, sugar and tobacco. Other articles were brought, but these were the most desired. The luxuries were distributed among friends, small quantities here and there. Someone and another then would go to the front of his tepee, call out the names of special friends and invite: “I have tobacco. Come and smoke with me.” Or: “I have coffee and sugar. Come and feast with me.” Sioux might make such gifts to Cheyennes or Cheyennes might provide them to the Sioux. Or, members of the two sets of Indians might invite each other to smoke or to eat. Usually, though, the givings and the invitings were within tribal bounds. Yet every Indian who might prosper in any way was expected to hold himself always willing to share and desirous of sharing his prosperity with his fellows, with all friendly people, even with avowed enemies if such should come peaceably and should be in want. A first principle of Indian conduct was: Be generous to all Indians.

Last Bull, leading chief of the Fox warriors, came to us with his family at the last end of the winter.[13] He was the first one to disturb our peace of mind with the announcement:

“Soldiers are coming to fight you.”

He said that the whites would fight all Cheyennes and Sioux who were off the reservations. He did not know from what forts the soldiers would come. He had not heard who would be their chiefs. But this did not matter. He and his family stayed with us. Other Cheyennes came.

We did not believe Last Bull’s report. We thought somebody had told him what was not true. The treaty allowed us to hunt here as we might wish, so long as we did not make war upon the whites. We were not making war upon them. I had not seen any white man for many months. We were not looking for them. We were trying to stay away from all white people, and we wanted them to stay away from us. Our old men said that the reason the white people wanted us to leave off the roaming and hunting was that we should stay near them, so they could sell us more of their goods and their whisky. Our old men ever were urging the young men not to drink the whisky. The advice often was disregarded, but it appeared to be given serious consideration. Up to that time in my life I never had swallowed a drink of it.

Lots of buffalo were feeding on the grass at the upper Tongue and Powder rivers, on all of their branches and on the other lands in this whole region. Lots of elk, deer and antelope could be found almost anywhere the hunter might go to seek them. Lots of colts were being born in our horse herds this spring. We were rich, contented, at peace with the whites so far as we knew. Why should soldiers come out to seek for us and fight us? No, the report seemingly was a mistake.

Spotted Wolf, Medicine Wolf and Twin, three Cheyenne chiefs, came to us as we camped on Powder river. They advised us to go to our agency. “Soldiers will come to fight you,” they assured us. We now believed this to be true. The chiefs in our band had a council. The next day they had another council.

“No, we shall stay here,” they decided. “If soldiers come we shall steal their horses. Then they can not fight us.”

Forty lodges of Cheyennes now were in camp on the west side of Powder river, forty or fifty miles above where Little Powder river flows into it. The report brought by the three chiefs aroused us into watchful activity. Every hunting party was on the lookout for white soldiers or for their trails. The women and old people in the camp kept themselves ever ready for immediate flight.

My older brother Yellow Hair and I went scouting. We mounted our horses at night and went up the Powder river valley. As we were creeping and peeping over a hill our horses got away from us. But we kept on afoot. We saw camp fires in a dry gulch on the east side of Powder river. Some other groups of Cheyennes were scouting in the same vicinity. A figure on horseback showed for a moment on a ridge. White Man? Cheyenne? Other Indian? Must be a white man, a soldier. Somebody off aside from us acted quickly.

“Bang!”