Despite the urgency of this council, the customary amenities were observed. Heads Off had long since come to understand that such serious matters as council must not be hurried. Still, he felt the press of time as he lighted the pipe and blew puffs to the four directions, to the sky and to the earth. He passed the pipe to the sub-chief on his right, and sat back to wait as the instrument made its circle.
Finally, the circle was completed, the pipe stowed away, and the discussion could begin. Coyote took the cased council pipe from the chief. He was very proud of his daughter, the Tall One, for having the presence of mind to pick up the chiefs pipe and his elk-dog medicine as she fled. These objects were practically all that had been saved from her lodge, but they were most important.
“Let us count the dead,” Heads Off was speaking.
A general accounting was discussed. There were apparently four dead, all males. This indicated good organization in the defense and retreat, but was grim news in light of the already thin ranks of fighting men. One had been a mere boy, eager to display his bravery, but too inexperienced to compete with hardened warriors. Even so, an older warrior testified, the youth had stood fast and shot an arrow which unhorsed his opponent.
“I saw the Head Splitter fall, but I do not know if he was killed,” finished the man.
“How many Head Splitters were killed?” the chief asked.
No one knew. Estimates ranged from three to seven, with a median figure probably most likely.
“There was one still alive,” a man related. “We found him hiding in the rocks and killed him.”
Heads Off was furious. He would have wished to question the prisoner, to see how much the Head Splitters might know of their plight. He was also wondering if the attackers were of the band of Bull’s Tail. He had an accurate estimate of the size of that group.
“Let us not kill prisoners before they are questioned!” The irritation in the chief’s tone was unmistakable.
There was another factor here, too, understood but incompletely by the chief. Coyote had already observed it. Traditionally, the People were much likelier to adopt a prisoner than to kill him. Now, with the stress of internal strife and the threat of the enemy, the easy-going attitude of the People was changing. Their first thought was to lash out, to kill. Coyote hated to see this change come over the tribe. Almost, he thought, it was better when life was simpler, and we thought more of run-and-hide.
The council continued. It was determined that everyone had a place at least for the night, and then Heads Off outlined plans.
“We have no more than twenty elk-dogs.”
“No, my chief!” interrupted Standing Bird. “Nearly thirty!”
The elk-dog men had found several strays, including mares, foals, and animals once ridden by Head Splitters who had no further use for elk-dogs now.
“It is good,” Heads Off acknowledged, “but still, we cannot move camp without more elk-dogs.”
A flurry of discussion followed. The People, it was noted, once moved entirely without elk-dogs, using only the power of their muscles and that of their dogs.
“That is true,” observed Coyote, “but it was before the elk-dog. We now have bigger lodges, and longer poles. Dogs and people cannot move the lodges we now have.”
“But, the biggest were burned!” someone insisted.
“My chief,” interjected the medicine man, “there is a wintering place that the People used long ago, not more than three suns away. We should be able to move that far. We also need food. There are deer in the woods, and nuts among the trees. It would be better for the winter than this place.”
There were nods of assent. Others remembered the location, now unused for many seasons. Under Hump Ribs, the previous chief, the band had migrated farther south to winter. In addition, they had become more dependent on the buffalo in recent years. With the advent of elk-dog hunting methods, buffalo were more accessible. No one ate dog meat now except by choice, and rabbits and squirrels were hunted mostly by the youngsters.
Now, it seemed advisable to revive some of the old ways. In fact, this might be the only answer for the band. Ultimately, it was decided to spend another day in salvage and burial, and then make the move on the following morning.
It was a ragtag remnant of the proud Elk-dog band that straggled out onto the prairie two suns later. Heads Off had insisted on mounted warriors flanking the column. Yet at the same time, the strength of the men was needed to drag and carry. Stops were frequent and progress slow.
Tall One insisted on walking part of the time, carrying small Owl. Frequently, however, she consented at the urging of her husband, to ride for a time on a pole-drag behind one of the horses.
There was a time of fear when one of the outriders sighted a mounted warrior watching from a distant hill. No further such
observations were made, however, and by dark there was much doubt and discussion as to whether the young man had actually seen anything.
“But, my chief, there was a rider!”
The scout had come to the cooking fire where Heads Off sat eating. He had been derided and laughed at, and was becoming depressed.
“I know,” the chief nodded. “The Head Splitters will surely be watching our move. You,” he flattered the youngster a little, “are simply a better watcher than most.”
The young man left, immeasurably helped by the encouragement.
“That is good, Heads Off,” Coyote observed. “It will make him a better scout.”
“I spoke truth,” answered his son-in-law. “We know the Head Splitters are there, but only this young man has been able to see them. He may some day be as good as Sees Far!”
Midday of the fourth sun the Elk-dog band straggled into the area they sought. Heads Off rode ahead to evaluate and select a campsite. It must be judged both from the standpoint of winter shelter and from that of defensibility.
In the former case, he saw the selection was excellent. The level camp area was ringed on two sides by a steep and broken hillside. It would protect from the north and west, good shelter against Cold Maker. A dense patch of hardwood timber to the south promised shelter for the animals, as well as nuts and small game for provisions.
To the east, the fringe of oaks thinned out to a narrow neck of ground which opened onto the prairie. Defensibility against a mounted attack was adequate, against infiltration through the woods, not quite so desirable. This was partially offset by a nearby hill which would present a good location for a sentry.
Heads Off rode to that point, a few hundred paces away, and was pleased. A single observer, protected by the blankness of open prairie behind him, could overlook the entire area. It would be next to impossible for the enemy even to infiltrate the woods unobserved. He beckoned with a full-armed sweep, and the band filed into the little meadow to select lodge sites.
The next days were busy, almost frantic with activity. Lodges were erected and insulated with dry grass stuffed inside the linings.
While the leaves of the oaks and walnuts in the grove changed to gold and orange and crimson, the prairie grasses ripened to muted shades of red and buff. Prairie flowers of gold and purple showed their spectacular glory.
It was the Moon of Ripening, sometimes called the Moon of the Hunter by the People. The significance of the Hunter’s Moon had been somewhat diminished with the change to hunting buffalo with elk-dogs. Now, both names took on added significance. The People, who had been moderately well supplied for the winter, now found themselves with practically nothing. The Head Splitters had been thorough. Most supplies had been looted or burned.
Nights were cool and crisp, the days pleasant and sunny, deceptively comfortable. Younger members of the band, including the chief, were filled with a complacence that the elders found alarming. There were those who remembered when the Moon of Hunger in late winter was marked by starvation. Already, long lines of calling geese were to be seen in the sky, making their southward journey. It would not be long before, in a short blaze of crimson, the sumac on the hillsides would suddenly drop foliage and the Moon of Falling Leaves would begin.
Cold Maker would sweep out of the north, pushing Sun Boy and his torch far to the south. White Buffalo watched the signs,
shook his rattles and danced his ceremonial dances. He, with others of the older generation, saw the coming season with dread. He could remember no time when the People were so poorly prepared for the onslaught of Cold Maker.