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The Way of an Indian

W >> Written and Illustrated by Frederic Remington >> The Way of an Indian



Produced by Eric Eldred





THE WAY OF AN INDIAN

Written and Illustrated by

FREDERIC REMINGTON


First published, February, 1906



Contents

I White Otter's Own Shadow

II The Brown Bat Proves Itself

III The Bat Devises Mischief Among the Yellow-Eyes

IV The New Lodge

V The Kites and the Crows

VI The Fire-Eater's Bad Medicine

VII Among the Pony-Soldiers

VIII The Medicine Fight of the Chis-Chis-Chash




I

White Otter's Own Shadow


White Otter's heart was bad. He sat alone on the rim-rocks of the bluffs
overlooking the sunlit valley. To an unaccustomed eye from below he
might have been a part of nature's freaks among the sand rocks. The
yellow grass sloped away from his feet mile after mile to the timber,
and beyond that to the prismatic mountains. The variegated lodges of the
Chis-chis-chash village dotted the plain near the sparse woods of the
creek-bottom; pony herds stood quietly waving their tails against the
flies or were driven hither and yon by the herdboys--giving variety to
the tremendous sweep of the Western landscape.

This was a day of peace--such as comes only to the Indians in contrast
to the fierce troubles which nature stores up for the other intervals.
The enemy, the pinch of the shivering famine, and the Bad Gods were
absent, for none of these things care to show themselves in the white
light of a midsummer's day. There was peace with all the world except
with him. He was in a fierce dejection over the things which had come to
him, or those which had passed him by. He was a boy--a fine-looking,
skillfully modeled youth--as beautiful a thing, doubtless, as God ever
created in His sense of form; better than his sisters, better than the
four-foots, or the fishes, or the birds, and he meant so much more than
the inanimate things, in so far as we can see. He had the body given to
him and he wanted to keep it, but there were the mysterious demons of
the darkness, the wind and the flames; there were the monsters from the
shadows, and from under the waters; there were the machinations of his
enemies, which he was not proof against alone, and there was yet the
strong hand of the Good God, which had not been offered as yet to help
him on with the simple things of life; the women, the beasts of the
fields, the ponies and the war-bands. He could not even protect his own
shadow, which was his other and higher self.

His eyes dropped on the grass in front of his moccasins--tiny dried
blades of yellow grass, and underneath them he saw the dark traceries of
their shadows. Each had its own little shadow--its soul--its changeable
thing--its other life--just as he himself was cut blue-black beside
himself on the sandstone. There were millions of these grass-blades, and
each one shivered in the wind, maundering to itself in the chorus, which
made the prairie sigh, and all for fear of a big brown buffalo wandering
by, which would bite them from the earth and destroy them.

White Otter's people had been strong warriors in the Chis-chis-chash;
his father's shirt and leggins were black at the seams with the hair of
other tribes. He, too, had stolen ponies, but had done no better than
that thus far, while he burned to keep the wolf-totem red with honor.
Only last night, a few of his boy companions, some even younger than
himself, had gone away to the Absaroke for glory and scalps, and ponies
and women--a war-party--the one thing to which an Indian pulsed with his
last drop. He had thought to go also, but his father had discouraged
him, and yesterday presented him with charcoal ashes in his right hand,
and two juicy buffalo ribs with his left. He had taken the charcoal. His
father said it was good--that it was not well for a young man to go to
the enemy with his shadow uncovered before the Bad Gods.

Now his spirits raged within his tightened belly, and the fierce Indian
brooding had driven him to the rim-rock, where his soul rocked and
pounced within him. He looked at the land of his people, and he hated
all vehemently, with a rage that nothing stayed but his physical strength.

Old Big Hair, his father, sitting in the shade of his tepee, looked out
across at his son on the far-off skyline, and he hid his head in his
blanket as he gazed into his medicine-pouch. "Keep the enemy and the Bad
Gods from my boy; he has no one to protect him but you, my medicine."

Thus hour after hour there sat the motionless tyro, alone with his own
shadow on the hill. The shades of all living nature grew great and
greater with the declining sun. The young man saw it with satisfaction.
His heart swelled with brave thoughts, as his own extended itself down
the hillside--now twenty feet long--now sixty--until the western sun was
cut by the bluffs, when it went out altogether. The shadow of White
Otter had been eaten up by the shadow of the hill. He knew now that he
must go to the westward--to the western mountains, to the Inyan-kara,
where in the deep recesses lay the shadows which had eaten his. They
were calling him, and as the sun sank to rest, White Otter rose slowly,
drew his robe around him, and walked away from the Chis-chis-chash camp.

The split sticks in Big Hair's lodge snapped and spit gleams of light on
the old warrior as he lay back on his resting-mat. He was talking to his
sacred symbols. "Though he sleeps very far off, though he sleeps even on
the other side, a spirit is what I use to keep him. Make the bellies of
animals full which would seek my son; make the wolf and the bear and the
panther go out of their way. Make the buffalo herds to split around my
son, Good God! Be strong to keep the Bad God back, and all his
demons--lull them to sleep while he passes; lull them with soft sounds."

And the Indian began a dolorous chanting, which he continued throughout
the night. The lodge-fires died down in the camp, but the muffled intone
came in a hollow sound from the interior of the tepee until the spirit
of silence was made more sure, and sleep came over the bad and good
together.

Across the gray-greens of the moonlit plains bobbed and flitted the dim
form of the seeker of God's help.

Now among the dark shadows of the pines, now in the gray sagebrush, lost
in the coulees, but ceaselessly on and on, wound this figure of the
night. The wolves sniffed along on the trail, but came no nearer.

All night long he pursued his way, his muscles playing tirelessly to the
demands of a mind as taut as bowstring.

Before the morning he had reached the Inyan-kara, a sacred place, and
begun to ascend its pine-clad slopes. It had repulsion for White Otter,
it was sacred--full of strange beings not to be approached except in the
spiritual way, which was his on this occasion, and thus he approached
it. To this place the shadows had retired, and he was pursuing them. He
was in mortal terror--every tree spoke out loud to him; the dark places
gave back groans, the night-winds swooped upon him, whispering their
terrible fears. The great underground wildcat meowed from the slopes,
the red-winged moon-birds shrilled across the sky, and the stone giants
from the cliffs rocked and sounded back to White Otter, until he cried
aloud:

"O Good God, come help me. I am White Otter. All the bad are thick
around me; they have stolen my shadow; now they will take me, and I
shall never go across to live in the shadow-land. Come to White Otter, O
Good God!"

A little brown bat whirled round and round the head of the
terror-stricken Indian, saying: "I am from God, White Otter. I am come
to you direct from God. I will take care of you. I have your shadow
under my wings. I can fly so fast and crooked that no one can catch up
with me. No arrow can catch me, no bullet can find me, in my tricky
flight. I have your shadow and I will fly about so fast that the
spirit-wildcats and the spirit-birds and the stone giants cannot come up
with me or your shadow, which I carry under my wings. Sit down here in
the dark place under the cliffs and rest. Have no fear." White Otter sat
him down as directed, muffled in his robe. "Keep me safe, do not go away
from me, ye little brown bat. I vow to keep you all my life, and to take
you into the shadow-land hereafter, if ye will keep me from the demons
now, O little brown bat!" And so praying, he saw the sky pale in the
east as he lay down to sleep. Then he looked all around for his little
brown bat, which was no more to be seen.

The daylight brought quiescence to the fasting man, and he sank back,
blinking his hollow eyes at his shadow beside him. Its possession lulled
him, and he paid the debt of nature, lying quietly for a long time.

Consciousness returned slowly. The hot sun beat on the fevered man, and
he moved uneasily. To his ears came the far-away beat of a tom-tom,
growing nearer and nearer until it mixed with the sound of bells and the
hail-like rattle of gourds. Soon he heard the breaking of sticks under
the feet of approaching men, and from under the pines a long procession
of men appeared--but they were shadows, like water, and he could see the
landscape beyond them. They were spirit-men. He did not stir. The moving
retinue came up, breaking now into the slow side-step of the
ghost-dance, and around the form of White Otter gathered these people of
the other world. They danced "the Crazy Dance" and sang, but the dull
orbs of the faster gave no signs of interest.

"He-eye, he-eye! we have come for you--come to take you to the
shadow-land. You will live on a rocky island, where there are no ponies,
no women, no food, White Otter. You have no medicine, and the Good God
will not protect you. We have come for you--hi-ya, hi-ya, hi-yah!"

"I have a medicine," replied White Otter. "I have the little brown bat
which came from God."

"He-eye, he-eye! Where is your little brown bat? You do not speak the
truth--you have no little brown bat from God. Come with us, White
Otter." With this, one of the spirit-men strode forward and seized White
Otter, who sprang to his feet to grapple with him. They clinched and
strained for the mastery, White Otter and the camp-soldier of the
spirit-people.

"Come to me, little brown bat," shouted the resisting savage, but the
ghostly crowd yelled, "Your little brown bat will not come to you, White
Otter."

Still he fought successfully with the spirit-soldier. He strained and
twisted, now felling the ghost, now being felled in turn, but they
staggered again to their feet. Neither was able to conquer. Hour after
hour he resisted the taking of his body from off the earth to be
deposited on the inglorious desert island in the shadow-land. At times
he grew exhausted and seemed to lie still under the spirit's clutches,
but reviving, continued the struggle with what energy he could summon.
The westering sun began lengthening the shadows on the Inyan-kara, and
with the cool of evening his strength began to revive. Now he fought the
ghost with renewed spirit, calling from time to time on his
medicine-bat, till at last when all the shadows had merged and gone
together, with a whir came the little brown bat, crying "Na-hoin" [I
come].

Suddenly all the ghost-people flew away, scattering over the Inyan-kara,
screaming, "Hoho, hoho, hoho!" and White Otter sat up on his robe.

The stone giants echoed in clattering chorus, the spirit-birds swished
through the air with a whis-s-s-tling noise, and the whole of the bad
demons came back to prowl, since the light had left the world, and they
were no longer afraid. They all sought to circumvent the poor Indian,
but the little brown bat circled around and around his head, and he kept
saying: "Come to me, little brown bat. Let White Otter put his hand on
you; come to my hand."

But the bat said nothing, though it continued to fly around his head. He
waved his arms widely at it, trying to reach it. With a fortunate sweep
it struck his hand, his fingers clutched around it, and as he drew back
his arm he found his little brown bat dead in the vise-like grip. White
Otter's medicine had come to him.

Folding himself in his robe, and still grasping the symbol of the Good
God's protection, he lay down to sleep. The stone giants ceased their
clamors, and all the world grew still.

White Otter was sleeping.

In his dreams came the voice of God, saying: "I have given it, given you
the little brown bat. Wear it always on your scalp-lock, and never let
it away from you for a moment. Talk to it, ask of it all manner of
questions, tell it the secrets of your shadow-self, and it will take you
through battle so fast that no arrow or bullet can hit you. It will
steal you away from the spirits which haunt the night. It will whisper
to you concerning the intentions of the women, and your enemies, and it
will make you wise in the council when you are older. If you adhere to
it and follow its dictation, it will give you the white hair of old age
on this earth, and bring you to the shadow-land when your turn comes."

The next day, when the sun had come again, White Otter walked down the
mountain, and at the foot met his father with ponies and buffalo meat.
The old man had followed on his trail, but had gone no farther.

"I am strong now, father. I can protect my body and my shadow--the Good
God has come to Wo-pe-ni-in."




II

The Brown Bat Proves Itself


Big Hair and his son, White Otter, rode home slowly, back through the
coulees and the pines and the sage-brush to the camp of the
Chis-chis-chash. The squaws took their ponies when they came to their
lodge.

Days of listless longing followed the journey to the Inyan-kara in
search of the offices of the Good God, and the worn body and fevered
mind of White Otter recovered their normal placidity. The red warrior on
his resting-mat sinks in a torpor which a sunning mud-turtle on
a log only hopes to attain, but he stores up energy, which must sooner
or later find expression in the most extended physical effort.

Thus during the days did White Otter eat and sleep, or lie under the
cottonwoods by the creek with his chum, the boy Red Arrow--lying
together on the same robe and dreaming as boys will, and talking also,
as is the wont of youth, about the things which make a man. They both
had their medicine--they were good hunters, whom the camp soldiers
allowed to accompany the parties in the buffalo-surround. They both had
a few ponies, which they had stolen from the Absaroke hunters the
preceding autumn, and which had given them a certain boyish
distinction in the camp. But their eager minds yearned for the time to
come when they should do the deed which would allow them to pass from
the boy to the warrior stage, before which the Indian is in embryo.

Betaking themselves oft to deserted places, they each consulted his own
medicine. White Otter had skinned and dried and tanned the skin of the
little brown bat, and covered it with gaudy porcupine decorations. This
he had tied to his carefully cultivated scalp-lock, where it switched in
the passing breeze. People in the camp were beginning to say "the little
brown bat boy" as he passed them by.

But their medicine conformed to their wishes, as an Indian's medicine
mostly has to do, so that they were promised success in their
undertaking.

Old Big Hair, who sat blinking, knew that the inevitable was going to
happen, but he said no word. He did not advise or admonish. He doted on
his son, and did not want him killed, but that was better than no
eagle-plume.

Still the boys did not consult their relatives in the matter, but on the
appointed evening neither turned up at the ancestral tepee, and Big Hair
knew that his son had gone out into the world to win his feather. Again
he consulted the medicine-pouch and sang dolorously to lull the spirits
of the night as his boy passed him on his war-trail.

Having traveled over the tableland and through the pines for a few
miles, White Otter stopped, saying: "Let us rest here. My medicine says
not to go farther, as there is danger ahead. The demons of the night are
waiting for us beyond, but my medicine says that if we build a fire the
demons will not come near, and in the morning they will be gone."

They made a small fire of dead pine sticks and sat around it wrapped in
the skins of the gray wolf, with the head and ears of that fearful
animal capping theirs--unearthly enough to frighten even the monsters of
the night.

Old Big Hair had often told his son that he would send him out with some
war-party under a chief who well knew how to make war, and with a
medicine-man whose war-medicine was strong; but no war-party was going
then and youth has no time to waste in waiting. Still, he did not fear
pursuit.

Thus the two human wolves sat around the snapping sticks, eating their
dried buffalo meat.

"To-morrow, Red Arrow, we will make the war-medicine. I must find a gray
spider, which I am to kill, and then if my medicine says go on, I am not
afraid, for it came direct from the Good God, who told me I should live
to wear white hair."

"Yes," replied Red Arrow, "we will make the medicine. We do not know the
mysteries of the great war-medicine, but I feel sure that my own is
strong to protect me. I shall talk to a wolf. We shall find a big gray
wolf, and if as we stand still on the plain he circles us completely
around, we can go on, and the Gray Horned Thunder-Being and the Great
Pipe-Bearing Wolf will march on our either side. But if the wolf does
not circle us, I do not know what to do. Old Bear-Walks-at-Right, who is
the strongest war-medicine-maker in the Chis-chis-chash, says that when
the Gray Horned Thunder-Being goes with a war-party, they are sure of
counting their enemies' scalps, but when the Pipe-Bearing Wolf also
goes, the enemy cannot strike back, and the Wolf goes only with the
people of our clan."

Thus the young men talked to each other, and the demons of the night
joined in their conversation from among the tree-tops, but got no nearer
because the fire shot words of warning up to them, and the hearts of the
boys were strong to watch the contest and bear it bravely.

With the first coming of light they started on--seeking the gray spider
and the gray wolf. After much searching through the rotting branches of
the fallen trees, White Otter was heard calling to Red Arrow: "Come!
Here is the gray spider, and as I kill him, if he contains blood I shall
go on, but if he does not contain blood my medicine says there is great
danger, and we must not go on."

Over the spider stooped the two seekers of truth, while White Otter got
the spider on the body of the log, where he crushed it with his bow. The
globular insect burst into a splash of blood, and the young savage threw
back his shoulders with a haughty grunt, saying, "My medicine is
strong--we shall go to the middle of the Absaroke village," and Red
Arrow gave his muttered assent.

"Now we must find a wolf," continued Red Arrow, and they betook
themselves through the pines to the open plains, White Otter following
him but a step in rear.

In that day wolves were not hard to find in the buffalo country, as they
swarmed around the herds and they had no enemies. Red Arrow arrogated to
himself the privilege of selecting the wolf. Scanning the expanse, it
was not long before their sharp eyes detected ravens hovering over a
depression in the plain, but the birds did not swoop down. They knew
that there was a carcass there and wolves, otherwise the birds would not
hover, but drop down. Quickly they made their way to the place, and as
they came in range they saw the body of a half-eaten buffalo surrounded
by a dozen wolves. The wolves betook themselves slowly off, with many
wistful looks behind, but one in particular, more lately arrived at the
feast, lingered in the rear.

Selecting this one, Red Arrow called: "O gray wolf of my clan, answer me
this question. White Otter and I are going to the Absa-roke for
scalps--shall we have fortune, or is the Absaroke medicine too strong?"

The wolf began to circle as Red Arrow approached it and the buffalo
carcass. Slowly it trotted off to his left hand, whereat the anxious
warrior followed slowly.

"Tell me, pretty wolf, shall White Otter's and my scalps be danced by
the Absaroke? Do the enemy see us coming now--do they feel our
presence?" And the wolf trotted around still to the left.

"Come, brother. Red Arrow is of your clan. Warn me, if I must go back."
And as the Indian turned, yet striding after the beast, it continued to
go away from him, but kept an anxious eye on the dead buffalo meanwhile.

"Do not be afraid, gray wolf; I would not raise my arm to strike. See, I
have laid my bow on the ground. Tell me not to fear the Absaroke, gray
wolf, and I promise to kill a fat buffalo-cow for you when we meet again."

The wolf had nearly completed his circle by this time, and once again
his follower spoke.

"Do you fear me because of the skin of the dead wolf you see by my bow
on the ground? No, Red Arrow did not kill thy brother. He was murdered
by a man of the dog clan, and I did not do it. Speak to me--help me
against my fears." And the wolf barked as he trotted around until he had
made a complete circle of the buffalo, whereat Red Arrow took up his bow
and bundle, saying to White Otter, "Now we will go."

The two then commenced their long quest in search of the victims which
were to satisfy their ambitions. They followed up the depression in the
plains where they had found the buffalo, gained the timber, and walked
all day under its protecting folds. They were a long way from their
enemies' country, but instinctively began the cautious advance which is
the wild-animal nature of an Indian.

The old buffalo-bulls, elk and deer fled from before them as they
marched. A magpie mocked at them. They stopped while White Otter spoke
harshly to it: "You laugh at us, fool-bird, because we are boys, but you
shall see when we come back that we are warriors. We will have a scalp
to taunt you with. Begone now, before I pierce you with an arrow, you
chattering woman-bird." And the magpie fluttered away before the
unwonted address.

In the late afternoon they saw a band of wolves pull down and kill a
fawn, and ran to it, saying, "See, the Pipe-Bearing Wolf is with us;
he makes the wolves to hunt for us of his clan," and they despoiled the
prey.

Coming to a shallow creek, they took off their moccasins and waded down
it for a mile, when they turned into a dry watercourse, which they
followed up for a long distance, and then stopped in some thick brush
which lined its sides. They sat long together on the edge of the bushes,
scanning with their piercing eyes the sweep of the plains, but nothing
was there to rouse their anxiety. The wild animals were feeding
peacefully, the sun sank to rest, and no sound came to them but the cry
of the night-birds.

When it was quite dark, they made a small fire in the depths of the cut,
threw a small quantity of tobacco into it as a sacrifice, cooked the
venison and went to sleep.

It was more than mere extension of interest with them; it was more than
ambition's haughtiest fight; it was the sun-dried, wind-shriveled,
tried-out atavistic blood-thirst made holy by the approval of the Good
God they knew.

The miniature war-party got at last into the Absaroke country. Before
them lay a big camp--the tepees scattering down the creek-bottom for
miles, until lost at a turn of the timber. Eagerly they studied the cut
and sweep of the land, the way the tepees dotted it, the moving of the
pony herds and the coming and going of the hunters, but most of
all the mischievous wanderings of the restless Indian boys. Their
telescopic eyes penetrated everything. They understood the movements of
their foes, for they were of kindred nature with their own.

Their buffalo-meat was almost gone, and it was dangerous to kill game
now for fear of attracting the ravens, which would circle overhead and
be seen from the camp. These might attract an investigation from idle
and adventurous boys and betray them.

"Go now; your time has come," said the little brown bat on White Otter's
scalp-lock.

"Go now," echoed Red Arrow's charm.

When nothing was to be seen of the land but the twinkle of the fires in
the camp, they were lying in a deep washout under a bluff, which
overlooked the hostile camp. Long and silently they sat watching the
fires and the people moving about, hearing their hum and chanting as it
came to them on the still air, together with the barking of dogs, the
nickering of ponies, and the hollow pounding on a log made by old squaws
hacking with their hatchets.

Slowly before the drowse of darkness, the noises quieted and the fires
died down. Red Arrow felt his potent symbols whispering to him.

"My medicine is telling me what to do, White Otter."

"What does it say?"

"It says that there is a dangerous mystery in the blue-and-yellow tepee
at the head of the village. It tells me to have great care," replied Red
Arrow.

"Hough, my medicine says go on; I am to be a great warrior," replied
White Otter.

After a moment Red Arrow exclaimed: "My medicine says go with White
Otter, and do what he says. It is good."

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