Before the Elk-dog warriors fully struck the battle, it was almost over. Head Splitters, unsure and bewildered, were in full retreat, scattering as they ran. Heads Off was unable to strike a single blow with his lance.
It was to be hoped that his warriors would not pursue the retreating enemy out onto the prairie in unprotected positions. They seemed not inclined to do so. A few of the Bloods made a token charge after the retreating enemy, but then returned.
A young Blood warrior approached him at a trot, and reined his horse to a stop. It was Red Dog.
“Ah-koh, my chief.” He smiled with genuine respect. “It is a good day for a fight.”
Heads Off sat, still dumbfounded at the rapid turn of events. He glanced again at the ridge above him and saw a solitary figure still outlined against the sky. There was something familiar about the way the man sat.
“It is Badger.” Red Dog spoke at his elbow. “He would not come with us.”
Heads Off nodded. The situation now began to make sense. The argument on the hill, the indecisiveness. Red Dog had assumed command and led the Bloods in their amazing charge, when Badger had refused. The Bloods had followed their new leader. Now Badger sat, rejected and angry, alone.
Someone called out and pointed. A handful of the enemy were climbing the hill, intent on escape. Heads Off recognized the
young chief whom he had noticed before. The man seemed to be the leader of the retreating group. He was choosing a good line of escape, seeking higher ground above the conflict. He was a good leader.
At first it appeared that the Head Splitters were not aware of the horseman above them. At what point he was seen was unclear, and mattered little anyway. Their line of flight would bring them in direct contact. The People watched, fascinated.
Above the scattered noise and confusion on the plain below, the intermittent cries and nickers of the elk-dogs, now rose another sound. The solitary figure on the hill was singing the death song of the People. Badger moved his big horse forward to meet the advancing enemy.
The first of the Head Splitters was still off balance at the lip of the hill when Badger struck. The others scattered to climb to the flat top of the ridge at different points. Yet another felt the lance of the young Blood before the rest gained the hilltop. For a few heartbeats there was a flurry of activity as three horsemen closed at once on the lone warrior. Badger had stopped his song now, and fought in silence.
The struggling figures tumbled to the ground for a moment, and then slowly began to rise. The watchers could not see how many remained on the ground, but recognized the young Head Splitter chief as he stepped forward to face them from the rim of the hill. Slowly he lifted a long buffalo lance as if to show it to the People below. Heads Off believed it to be Badger’s lance.
With a last defiant yipping cry, the four remaining enemy swung to their horses and departed in the direction of their camp, leading the horses of their comrades and the big black that had been Badger’s.
“He was a brave man.” Heads Off spoke solemnly to Red Dog.
“Yes, my chief, but sometimes wrong.”
Coyote trotted up, grinning through a layer of dust and sweat. He nodded to the young Blood warrior and spoke to the chief.
“They go!” He pointed out onto the plain.
Though Sun Boy’s torch was moving low in the west, the Head Splitters were breaking camp. The first of their column was already forming up to depart over the hill to the south. Even while the People watched, a lodge came down in frantic haste as the inhabitants prepared to retreat.
A thought occurred to Heads Off.
“Where are your women?” he asked Red Dog.
“About two suns north.” The other pointed. “They are camped with some Growers. We came to trade, and the Growers told us of this.” He spread his hands in an all inclusive gesture around him. “The message had gone out to all the Head Splitters to be here for the kill.”
The young man was silent a long moment, then spoke again, hesitantly, and with respect.
“My chief, are we welcome in your camp?”
Heads Off was startled. He had almost forgotten the edict of the Big Council. He was inexperienced in tribal custom, and did not know how matters would stand now.
It was a shock to find the Bloods even alive. The enemy had apparently been so preoccupied with the destruction of the Elk-dog band that they had overlooked the small and vulnerable Blood Society, alone on the prairie.
Now the status of the Bloods was in doubt. Their leader was dead, and it was against him that the Council had ruled. Still, the others had withdrawn from the tribe to follow him.
There seemed little doubt as to their status with the Elk-dog band. There were warm greetings, shouts of recognition, and reaffirmation of friendships. The women, children, and oldsters
came straggling from the woods with joyful cries of reunion. A tearful mother embraced her son, whom she had given up for dead, and smudged the embarrassed warrior’s crimson paint.
Heads Off had hurriedly taken leave of the activity in the meadow and loped to the woods to find Tall One. She came bounding toward him, nearly knocking him from his horse.
“What happened, my husband? Someone said it is the Bloods?”
He vaulted to the ground and gathered her in his arms.
“The children are safe?”
“Yes, the attack had just begun.”
Here and there, a voice lifted in the lamenting wail of the song of mourning. The People were not without casualties. Still, that they had survived at all was such an unexpected triumph that the general atmosphere was one of jubilation.
Children were brought from their hiding places, and scattered to find their own families. Crow Woman came to hand tiny Owl to his mother.
“The signs were good!” she reminded Tall One with a wrinkled smile.
The day was rapidly drawing to a close. Someone had already started a large fire in the center of the camp. There would be a victory celebration like none ever seen. But first, Heads Off realized, he must call a council.
“Coyote!” he called.
“Yes, my chief, you wish a council?” The little man had anticipated again.
Heads Off nodded, and knew that the word was probably already spreading. Just now, he felt, he should go and speak to White Buffalo of his remarkable prediction.