Part 17

“The fact that he was placed under guard and was to be punished made little difference to him. But when he discovered that my plan was to hurt more than him and me, he spoke out for what he believed was the truth. Yes, I had hoped to force our tribe into war. I hoped that I might be honored for bravery in war, even though I would sacrifice the honor and friendship of my boyhood companion, Blind Dog, and many of our braves might be killed in useless fighting. To make myself once again a man in Blind Dog’s sight, let me repeat his words. ‘I am ashamed of what I have done.’ Let the council punish me so that I will not forget again the sacredness of truth and friendship and loyalty to my tribe.”

The incident around which this story is woven was told to the author by Sam Carpin, trapper, hunter, and former member of the Butte, Montana, Police Force.

THE CANOE RACE

Long Bow for many moons had been the champion of the canoe racers in the Ottawa village and had accepted every challenge that had ever come his way.

From the time he was a young boy he had spent many hours upon the waters of the great lake practicing his canoeing until he felt there wasn’t another boy in the tribe that could come at all close to beating him in a fair race.

Soon the great hunt was upon them, and the warriors gathered their weapons and headed north to hunt the elusive deer. Whenever they went off on these hunts Black Rock, a short husky young warrior, always could be seen as the constant companion of Long Bow.

As the hunting party trotted along the woodland trail getting farther and farther from the village, Black Rock and Long Bow would hold conversation in sentences with very few words.

“I think we will have a good hunt, Long Bow.”

“Yes, Black Rock, for the signs of deer in this area are many.”

“We have had a good year, and if the gods bless us we will have another good year.”

“Soon the winter will be upon us and we must wait a long time for the spring.”

“Long Bow, you speak of the winter when here it is just late spring.”

“It will be a long summer for me.”

“Why so, friend Long Bow?”

“It used to be that during the summer when we held our games and contests there would be excitement and thrills.”

“Are there still not excitement and thrills for you?”

“Black Rock, my friend, I have become so skilled that there are none left in our tribe who give me any competition.”

“That is not a wise way to talk, Long Bow. One must never set himself above all others; that can be said only by the council.”

As they continued along the trail, Black Rock said no more to his friend, and Long Bow did not seem concerned that his friend offered no more conversation.

Soon they both forgot about the talk, for the hunting party had begun to split up in search of the game. For the next few hours the party made many fine shots and then it was time to return to the village.

Each of the two braves had a fine buck strung upon a pole between them as they walked easily along the trail homeward. Once again Black Rock and Long Bow were a team.

Now the excitement of the hunt was over and the catch was good, and all the braves were feeling very good about their success. And so as a result there was much talk and laughing and joking about the misses and successful shots. Long Bow noticed that Black Rock was especially quiet as they walked along the trail.

“Black Rock, my friend, what makes your tongue so still? You have made a fine kill this day and there will be much fresh meat for the village, yet you walk with a heavy step and your voice is still.”

“I am silent for a good reason, Long Bow my friend, for I fear that if I speak my heart will speak rather than my lips.”

Long Bow said nothing for a long while, trying to figure out what Black Rock meant by such a statement. Finally the leader of the hunt called a halt and the warriors placed their heavy burdens upon the ground and seated themselves under the shade trees to rest and drink of the water pouches before the journey homeward.

As Black Rock and Long Bow sat beneath a tree, Long Bow chanced a question of his friend.

“What did you mean, friend Black Rock, that your heart would speak rather than your lips?”

“As we approached the hunting grounds, my friend, you said that your summer would not be enjoyable because there was no competition for you. Would the fact that you are among your people not give you joy enough? Must there always be competition or contests to make your blood run fast?”

“Black Rock, you are one who can be contented with every-day living in our village. I cannot, and the yearly games and contests I have always looked forward to with great anticipation; but for the past three years there has been no competition among the braves, especially in the king of contests, the canoe race. Eagerly the young braves have met me on the lake, but I am so skilled that no one has been able to come even close to winning in the canoe race.”

“This is not a good way to feel, friend Long Bow, so I guess it is time that someone told you so. I, Black Rock, will challenge you upon the lake and then we shall see if there is no competition left in the village.”

Now Long Bow had never raced against his friend Black Rock, for Black Rock had never entered the canoe race, leaving the glory to his friend Long Bow. He also knew that Black Rock was considered a good man in a canoe but not good enough to defeat the great Long Bow.

“Then this is a challenge, friend Black Rock?”

“Yes, Long Bow, when the moon is full, on the following dawn we shall man our canoes on the great blue water. We shall race and see who best handles the canoe.”

Long Bow laughed. “Oh, Black Rock, are you serious? Do you really think that you can beat your friend Long Bow in a canoe race?”

“I do not know, Long Bow, but someone has to try.”

The leader called, and the men picked up their burdens and continued on their way home.

In the days that followed, whenever Long Bow had no work to do he could be found out on the lake paddling up and down the shore line practicing hard for the coming event. Black Rock on the other hand very rarely would be seen in a canoe unless he were fishing or trapping.

Word had spread swiftly through the village about the canoe race, and the excitement was growing as each night the moon appeared more full. Finally the moon was full and that night there was a great celebration in the camp in preparation for the big event.

Many of the braves were making wagers as to who would win, and there even were some hot words; but the men realized that this was to be a friendly challenge. Suddenly one of the braves realized that Black Rock was nowhere to be seen. This was unheard of the night before a great contest and they looked high and low but could find no trace of him. Finally one of the men thought to ask his wife who had been sitting quietly off to one side.

“He has taken a walk before retiring. He said that he wished to be alone this night.”

Black Rock was alone. He had walked to a small glen a short way from the camp, and there if one had come he would have seen a young warrior kneeling talking to someone although no other person could be seen.

“O, Great Manitou, who guides the lives of all red men, give me strength tomorrow to wield a strong and sure paddle. Carry my canoe swiftly across the waters and on to victory. Not for the glory that it will bring me but to wipe from the heart of my friend Long Bow his feeling that he is above the other men of the tribe. If he can be made to see right again, as a good Ottawa brave should, this is all that I ask.”

When he had finished Black Rock rose and returned to his home. The celebrating was still going on, but quietly Black Rock said good-night to his wife and wrapped himself in his blanket and was soon asleep. He had been troubled, but his walk and his prayer had eased his mind, for now he knew that it rested with the great spirits.

The following day dawned bright and clear, and before the sun had risen very far in the heavens the lake shore was crowded with eager spectators waiting for the start of the race.

The rules were outlined to the two warriors and then each took his position along the shore, standing in their respective canoes. About a mile down the shore of the lake a warrior stood with a gayly colored coup stick. This was the point which would indicate the finish line. The signal was given, and the two men bent to the task.

The crowd cheered as the two canoes sped down the shore line, neither one getting far ahead before the other would pull alongside. As they neared the finish line, the watchers on the shore could see the muscles of the two men striving in their backs and shoulders.

Finally the finish line was just a few yards away, and with a mighty surge, Black Rock drove his canoe across the finish line first.

There was a mixed chorus of groans and cheers as the men returned to the starting point and beached their canoes. The crowd milled around Black Rock as he stepped ashore, but he raised his arms for silence.

“Long Bow has lost the race this day, but let no man say that he is not a good man with the canoe; for there are none among us who to this day have been able to defeat him. I shake the hand of my brother Long Bow and to him I say, it was a great race and I have won, but it was a close race and if we raced again I might not be so lucky.”

“No, Black Rock, it was not luck this day that won the race, but rather a strong back being helped by a true loyal heart. I know now why you challenged me and I could not have won if you had tied one hand behind your back. I have been selfish and ungrateful for the many friends and good things that have been showered upon me. I have lost this battle of the canoes, but it has helped me win a battle with myself. I thank you, Black Rock, for bringing a straying warrior once again into the camp of good Ottawas.”

STANDING FAWN MAKES A DOLL

When the excitement was over in Flying Arrow’s wigwam and all the Shawnee had returned to their own homes to sit and talk of the birth of a new son to Flying Arrow, Standing Fawn, daughter to Flying Arrow, wandered off from the wickiup to think about this thing that had happened.

Until this day, little Standing Fawn had been the center of attention in the home of her mother and father and also when they went to visit friends; but now a new baby boy had been born, and everyone was very excited. When Standing Fawn had come running to tell her mother how she had helped her grandmother to dry rabbit skins and to make furry ropes for blankets her mother had said how nice that was, but went right back to taking care of the little boy Indian that now held the place of honor in the home of Flying Arrow.

This Standing Fawn could not understand, but for the time being she did not think about it any more but went to join the other girls that were gathering nuts. The girls had to hurry so that they gathered enough nuts for the tribal families before the squirrels got them all.

The walnut and butternut hulls were used for dyeing quills and so many, many nuts had to be gathered that soon the baskets were bulging with these and beechnuts, hazelnuts, and hickory nuts. When the task was over Standing Fawn returned home to her father and mother and her little brother.

As she entered the wickiup she could hear her mother singing softly to the new baby. There against the wall was the carrying case for the baby which Standing Fawn had helped her mother to make. That was fun working with her mother, but now mother was busy with the new baby and so Standing Fawn felt that she was no longer loved.

After supper, she crawled into her warm blankets and was soon asleep, but she awakened a short time later as the new baby cried for food. The crying continued until he was fed and then Standing Fawn was asleep once again.

For many weeks there was a great deal of work to be done with the new baby in the house, and Standing Fawn found that more and more she was asked to carry on the duties that her mother had done before this time.

When friends came to visit, they still had a smile and warm pat on the head for Standing Fawn, but most of the attention was given to her little brother, or so it seemed to Standing Fawn.

One night the little baby was very restless and did a lot of crying. Standing Fawn did not sleep well that night and in the morning when she rose to stir the coals for the morning fire and prepare to cook the breakfast she was feeling very cross. Her mother called to her from the wickiup.

“Standing Fawn, will you go to the stream and fetch some fresh water and heat it for me, please?”

“Yes, mother, I will go, but I am so tired,” Standing Fawn heard herself answer. “Today I would like to go to grandmother’s to help her with the quills if I may.”

“But, Standing Fawn, I need your help here today.”

“I want to go to grandmother’s today.”

“All right, Standing Fawn, you may go to grandmother’s today. I will manage alone.”

So after Standing Fawn had fetched the water she skipped merrily on her way to join her grandmother who was busy this winter in making fancy quill work upon moccasins and leggings, knife sheaths, and anything else that needed bright decoration.

“Welcome, Standing Fawn, you have not been to see your grandmother for a long time. I was beginning to think that you had forgotten old Granny.”

“No, grandmother, it is just that with the new baby I have been kept so busy that I have not been able to leave home for very long at all. I wish the new boy had never come to our home.” With that Standing Fawn kicked her foot at some soft rabbit hides that lay on the floor of the wickiup, more angry at herself than anything else.

“Now, now,” said her grandmother. “That is no way to feel, especially about a little boy who was not able to choose whether he would come to the house of your father or not. He is very small and he does not understand if you are angry with him, but he does understand love and attention.”

“Yes, grandmother, and he is getting plenty of that from everyone who comes to our house. Since he has come I have been very unhappy, and I shouldn’t be unhappy, should I, grandmother?”

“No, Standing Fawn, that is not the right feeling to have in your heart. Let me explain something to you as best I can.

“When you were born your father was disappointed, for you were a girl and he had hoped so for a warrior son, but he loved you as much as if you were a boy; for, as your mother said to him, your daughter will bear many sons. Your parents loved you and cherished you and did everything they could to make your life a happy and pleasant one. When your mother was heavy with child you were a great help to her around the wickiup. When your brother was born, there was much excitement in the village, for it was a boy and now your father had a warrior son and a beautiful daughter.

“For this he was very thankful and went to the hills to thank the great spirit for blessing his home so. When he returned there was great rejoicing once again just as there was when you were born, but then the work started just as when you were born, and your mother had no one to help her when you were a very small baby, but now she had you and she depends a great deal upon you to help her with your little brother. Soon he will be big and strong and you will be very proud to be called his sister. But now he is small and needs your love and attention.”

“I understand, grandmother, and I have been a very foolish girl. I will try to make up to my brother for this feeling I have had in my heart that is bad.”

“I am glad, granddaughter, to hear you say that. Now you had best run along, for your mother will be needing help this day.”

“Yes, my grandmother, but first I have something I must do.” So Standing Fawn strolled off to a corner of her grandmother’s wickiup and there she gathered some items into her lap and began working busily at something. Soon it was finished and she rose and saying good-bye to her grandmother, walked back to her own wickiup. Her mother was busy preparing supper, for the project Standing Fawn worked on had taken most of the day.

“Well, my daughter, did you have a nice day with your grandmother?”

“Oh yes, mother, a very nice day.” Standing Fawn was sure to keep her hands behind her back so that her mother could not see what she held.

Finally she excused herself and ran into the wickiup. There where he usually hung was her baby brother in his cradleboard, warm and sleeping. To the large cradle loop above his head, Standing Fawn hung a dainty little doll, all dressed in buckskin, that she had been so busy making that day. Next to the doll she placed a very small bow and arrows and tiny moccasins. Just at that moment her father entered the wickiup.

“See, father, what I have made for my little brother, who will one day be a great warrior. When he sees this doll it will make him want to run fast and shoot straight and carry himself as a warrior should.”

As Standing Fawn talked her mother had entered and was standing next to her father.

Flying Arrow motioned for his daughter to come to him and then kneeling on the ground and placing his hands upon his daughter’s shoulders he said:

“Surely, my daughter, if he were not destined to be a great warrior he would not be blessed with such a fine and beautiful sister. I am a very proud man to have such a wonderful family.”

Standing Fawn looked at her mother, and her mother was smiling. And inside, Standing Fawn felt all warm and good.

BLACK CLOUD REMEMBERS

It had been many weeks since the Seneca hunting party had seen the friendly smoke of their own village and as they lay among the pines, resting now, they were thinking of how it would be in their village when they returned the following day to speak of their success on the hunt. Their catch was large and there would be much dancing and celebration when they did return.

Black Cloud, leader of the hunting party, lay stretched out beneath the boughs of a large pine and gazed up through the branches at the clear sky lighted this evening by a bright full moon. The heavens were filled with stars, and this would mean a good clear day for travel when dawn finally broke upon the forest.

The party had traveled far in search of food but their labors were not in vain for they were returning loaded down with good fresh meat for their tribe.

The trip had been an exciting one from the standpoint of the hunt, but now the excitement was over and the warriors were tired. A half day’s journey lay between them and their homes, and they were eager to start the next morning.

The canoes had been pulled up the side of the lake and rigged for shelter in case of rain but all the party were sleeping in the open. As Black Cloud lay gazing at the stars he remembered back to his days as a boy when he had made his first hunting trip with his father.

“Come, father, hurry, we must get started!” Little Black Cloud had called as he waited at the beach for his father to join him. His father finally arrived and, approving of the canoe which his son had chosen, he turned it upright and pushed it into the lake. They loaded their packs and hunting weapons and soon Black Cloud was seated in the middle of the canoe as his father pushed from shore.

“Where are we going to hunt, father?” asked Little Black Cloud.

“Well, my son, I thought that we would try Bear Lake; for many of our warriors have reported fine deer around Bear Lake, and you saw the two beauties that were brought to the camp last week.”

“Yes, father, they were beautiful bucks, and I hope we are as fortunate.”

“We have a hard long journey ahead, my son, and so pull hard upon the paddle; for we must reach the upper end of the lake before nightfall. There we will make camp and tomorrow we shall carry our canoe to the upper lake known as Bear Lake. It is quite a distance and though it may seem close it will take us some time to reach our destination.”

Father and son pulled upon the paddles, and soon the canoe was moving steadily forward toward the upper end of the lake. As the craft skimmed through the water, Little Black Cloud’s father pointed out the many signs of wild game that could be seen along the shore.

Here was evidence of where brother beaver had been at work cutting logs or here was a grey muddy hole near the lake’s edge to which the forest animals came to drink. Always the canoe was kept near the shoreline, for this made the trip more interesting since there was much to see.

As noon approached, Little Black Cloud’s father directed the canoe in to the shore and beached it in a small cove. Father and son stepped ashore and pulled the canoe up after them. Near by there were some fine berry bushes and, walking inland a short way, they came upon a clear swift flowing stream. They picked some berries and, seating themselves near the stream, they made a meal of some fried venison they had brought with them, berries, and water. After eating they relaxed for a few moments and then the two walked back to the lake edge and climbing aboard their canoe once again were soon continuing their journey up the lake shore.

It was near dark when they reached the top of the lake. Little Black Cloud’s father guided the canoe into a small stream leading from the lake and, calling to his son to stop paddling, he guided the canoe softly against the shore of the stream. The two Indians stepped from their canoe and then, lifting the canoe from the water, set it upon the shore.

“We shall make camp here for the night, my son. You will gather some wood and I will see if I can catch us some fish for our supper. I shall not be gone long and there will still be plenty of daylight.” Saying this, Little Black Cloud’s father took up his fishing line and bone hook and a bright spinner and started back through the woods for the lake shore.

Little Black Cloud meanwhile started busily preparing camp and gathering wood for a fire. In an hour his father was back carrying a fine fish and soon they were having fresh fish steaks broiled on green sticks. These they flavored with some sugar, which they always carried, and washed it down with fresh water.

“And now, my son, we must sleep, for in the morning we have a long walk ahead to reach the Bear Lake.”

Father and son rolled into their blankets and the night noises around them provided a lullaby.

When dawn broke, Little Black Cloud found that his father had been up for some time and that breakfast was ready and waiting.

Following a hearty breakfast, Little Black Cloud picked up his pack. His father strapped his own pack upon his back and, balancing the light birch bark canoe upon his head, led the way through the forest toward the lake. The woodland Indians often had to make portages like this in order to reach their final destination.

After traveling for some time in this manner, Little Black Cloud noticed a clear space among the trees ahead. His father seemed to sense what he was thinking, for he called to his son, “That is Bear Lake just ahead. It was given that name many moons ago by our people, for it used to be the home of many bears who lived and thrived here, but when our people discovered that many fine fish lived in these waters they had to drive the bears off in order to make the fishing grounds safe for our people.

“Since the disappearance of the bears the deer have flocked to the shores of this fine lake, and now whenever fresh meat is needed a small party of us come to the lake and in a short time we have enough meat for the needs of our people.”

Soon the two had reached the shores of Bear Lake and, looking out upon the calm waters, Little Black Cloud said, “My, how peaceful the waters look, father. It seems as though nothing or no one had ever visited these shores before.”