Some relief from the internal pressures of the band was provided by the annual move into winter camp. Heads Off was thankful for any distraction at this time.
Stone Breaker, the weapons maker, had requested that they move by way of the flint quarry. They could replenish supplies of the scarce commodity, and still move into the desirable area for wintering before the Moon of Falling Leaves. The suggestion seemed a good one. Within three suns the Elk-dog band was on the move.
The chief was concerned about the attitude of Sees Far. That warrior was brooding, with a black sullen hate, over the death of his nephew. He had forbidden his son, Yellow Bird, to associate with Badger and the Blood Society. This naturally resulted in defiance on the part of the boy. The entire band was aware that the youngster still covertly followed the Bloods.
Heads Off again discussed the possibilities with Coyote, and neither saw a solution.
“It is like the river where it comes near the falls,” Coyote said grimly. “The water moves slowly at first, then faster and faster.”
The young chief nodded grimly, agreeing with the analogy. Unfortunately, there was an unspoken extension of the same mental picture. The water must inescapably be pulled over the edge, to fall crashing on the rocks below.
The temporary stop at the flint quarry was profitable. Near
the head of a sheltered pocket in the rolling prairie was an outcrop of white stone. The entire area was dotted with ledges and protrusions of this sort, jutting horizontally from the lush green hillsides. On the surface of these stones could often be seen the outlines of small aquatic creatures, snails, and water plants. These fossil impressions in the limestone were a matter of curiosity to the People, but the valuable significance was of a more practical nature. Here and there, sheltered by overhanging white stone, were veins of hard blue-gray flint. Some of the better quarries had been worked for centuries. At the site now visited by the People, the horizontal layer of the precious stone was only a hand’s span in thickness. Its breadth and depth were unknown, but a deep layer of rejected chips shifted underfoot as one approached the place. The vein of flint had been used by many tribes for many generations.
Stone Breaker squatted in the indentation of the hillside and methodically knocked flakes of the material loose with a large rock. Some of the warriors, taking pride in their own ability, joined the craftsman and gathered flints for their own use, or asked his expert advice. Stone Breaker, though lame from an old injury, was the acknowledged authority in weaponry. His skill was recognized among the other bands of the tribe, and a spear point made by Stone Breaker was highly prized among the People.
Still, Heads Off was anxious to lose no time here. The quarry was used by many tribes, including the Head Splitters. It would be well to move on as soon as practical into winter camp. Consequently, after a few suns, the young chief announced the move.
By the time Sun Boy had carried his torch halfway up the sky, the People were traveling south. They would winter, Heads Off decided, in the same general area where he had spent the first winter with the People. How long ago it seemed now. He had
been lost and injured, and Coyote had quietly seen to his needs, taking him into his own lodge as the winter approached. Now, returning to the same area seemed like going home. And, he reflected, how simple things were then. His major problem was to return to his own people. He had fretted impatiently at every delay, reacting irritably and miserably. At the time he had considered that season one of misery and frustration.
Now it seemed in memory, a pleasant, uncomplicated time when things were straightforward and all problems had simple answers. Compared to his present situation, the answers had been simple. Now, he must deal with all the friction of the internal politics of the People. In addition, he now carried the responsibility of a family man. His son, Eagle, had already taken part in the ceremony of the First Dance. Soon, there would be another child in his lodge. Tall One was just beginning to show the telltale change in shape, and the slightly different swing to her walk. Heads Off smiled to himself. Thoughts of Tall One always made him feel good.
This reverie was rudely interrupted by the approach of a scout. Standing Bird loped up and slid his mount to a stop, almost touching the chiefs gray mare.
“My chief, there are people ahead. Head Splitters.”
“A hunting party?”
“No, no, they have women and children with them, and carry their belongings.”
Heads Off relaxed somewhat. There would likely be no trouble. Neither group would initiate conflict, since there would be too much danger to the families of the warriors.
“It is good. Pass the word. We will move slowly ahead until we sight the other party. If you find Sees Far, send him to me. Then you return, too.”
Standing Bird kneed his horse into a fast walk and started on toward the rear of the column. Heads Off lightly touched the little mare’s flank and moved toward the front.
The confrontation took place in a broad, open meadow. Both groups desired it so. As soon as the other group was in view, the People drew together in a tight knot, women and children in the center. Around this nucleus clustered the baggage animals and loose horses. The perimeter was ringed by mounted warriors, quietly circling, ready for any eventuality. The other group, at a few hundred paces, was carrying out a similar ritual.
Three riders emerged from the other band and approached at a walk. Heads Off glanced around. Everything was in readiness.
“Badger,” he called, “you will make no move of any kind!”
“Of course, my chief.” The other smiled sarcastically. Heads Off, flanked by Sees Far and Standing Bird, rode slowly forward to meet the strangers. Observing the ritual, the approaching strangers stopped halfway between the two groups and waited. Heads Off and his cortege cautiously rode to a conversational distance and reined their horses to a stop. Beyond the mounted Head Splitters, he could see at the far side of the meadow the women and children of the enemy group as they huddled together. Warriors circled protectively, as in his own band.
The other chief raised a hand in greeting, using both the spoken and sign languages. Heads Off spoke none of the other’s tongue, but the sign talk was universal. He returned the greeting.
There followed diplomatic small talk of the weather and hunting. Heads Off stated that the People had just come from the flint quarry, where they had replenished their supply of the stone.
“Yes, you will need many weapons,” retorted the other smugly. “Your young men have much to learn.”
The emissaries of the People gripped weapons hard, but made no move. Any reply was up to their chief. Heads Off, his calm
exterior belying his tension, glanced at Sees Far. It was only to be hoped that that warrior, with his recent family tragedy, could control his emotions. If he were to strike out in anger, a bloody conflict would follow. Sees Far appeared calm and under control. He was a methodical thinker, and the gravity of the moment was clear to him. After all, thought Heads Off grimly, the object of the wrath of Sees Far was actually more within his own band than with the enemy. What a strange situation.
“My chief,” he signed in answer to the other, “all men have much to learn.” There was only a trace of a veiled threat.
The wrinkles around the eyes of the enemy chief tightened just a trifle, and he smiled a hard smile. He had heard of this hair-faced chief of the People, and recognized him by reputation. A calm-appearing but a dangerous man, it was said. This would be a good point to terminate the meeting.
“So be it,” he signed briefly, “until we meet again!” He turned his horse, exposing his back to the young hair-face with perfect confidence, and rode slowly back toward his own band.
The People did likewise, and the two groups circled each other warily and parted, continuing their respective directions.