X X When I had returned from the woodpile and fed the stove, Eagle Voice continued eagerly:
“There is no meat like that any more, and I can taste it now. It is hard to chew the meat they have these days; but sometimes I get a tender piece from a calf, and it always makes me think of a story I heard for the first time while we were eating that cow. Also, whenever I think of the story, it makes me hungry like a boy, although it is not about eating.
“We feasted and listened to stories most of the night, while the horse-guards took turns. Sometimes I would fall asleep, being stuffed with meat, then I would be wide awake again and everybody would be laughing at some funny tale, or saying, ‘how!’ how!’ around the circle, cheering a good story just ended. Then I would eat some more, and listen to the next one.
“Charger told this one, and I can see him yet, although he fed the wolves somewhere, I do not know how many snows ago. I thought he was an old man then, but now I think that he was almost young. He was always joking, but I cannot remember him laughing, for he had a face that made him look always sorry and surprised. He could never tell a story sitting down, because he could not tell it all with his mouth. He told it mostly with his face and his hands and his whole body; so he had to tell it on his feet, and if you did not see the story he was telling, you could not hear it all. Sometimes when he got a tale started he would go right on telling it without a word for a while, and everybody would look and look and not move. There was one about a wild young fellow who played ghost, and people would coax him to tell it again, although they knew it as well as he did. They wanted to see him telling it with looks and motions.
“This wild young fellow liked tobacco very much and he never had enough of it. He was always wondering how he could get some more. So one day he was traveling with his father and his mother, his grandfather and his grandmother. They had been away somewhere and they were going back to camp. There was some fresh meat on the pony-drag so that they could eat on the way, and with the meat there was a fresh cow’s bladder packed full of wasna, made of meat and tallow and buffalo berries pounded up together.
“They were all traveling along on their horses with the pony-drag; and they got to talking about tobacco. Maybe the wild young man started it. There was none at all in their iglaka [a family outfit on the move]—only red willow bark; and when they camped that night there would be nothing to mix with it for a good smoke.
“When the sun was getting low they saw an iglaka coming towards them. It was an old man and an old woman, and they were mourning. So when the two iglakas met they stopped to talk awhile and tell each other what they had heard. Then the grandfather of the first iglaka asked the old man of the second iglaka for some tobacco. And the second old man said he had not any; but his son was lying dead in a tepee back there, and in the tepee was an offering of five plugs of tobacco. These old people had stayed all night with their dead son and now they had started to wander and mourn. The old woman was crying all the time they were talking. And the old man said: ‘He was a very generous son, and now he is dead back there. I think if you ask him for one of the plugs he will let you have it. He always liked to give to old people.’ When he said this, they both wept hard.
“While the old people were all feeling bad together, the wild young man had a big thought, and what he thought, he did. First he sneaked the fresh cow’s bladder from the drag and hid it under his blanket. Then he remembered something he had lost back on the trail, and told the old people he would have to ride back and find it.
“So that is what he did; only he did not ride back very far. He dodged into a side draw and came around some hills until he was far ahead of his people; and there was the tepee with the dead man in it.
“He did not go in there right away, because that was not the way it was in his big thought. He went down to the creek and tied his horse in the brush. Then he stripped naked and covered himself all over with mud, and made streaks in the mud with his finger. After that he painted his face with the mud to make it look terrible. Last of all, he emptied out the fresh cow’s bladder and pulled it over his hair and his head and his ears, right down to his eyes. He almost scared himself when he looked into the water.
“By now the sun was going down, and he went into the tepee where the dead man was lying all dressed up with five big plugs of tobacco beside him. The wild young man wanted to smoke right away; but he knew if he did that, the old people would come and he would not get all the tobacco for himself. So he hid under his blanket over against the tepee wall and waited.
“Afterwhile when the day was just getting half-dark, he could hear the four old people coming. Then he heard his grandfather say: ‘Soon our grandson will be coming back, and while we are waiting we may as well make an offering and get the tobacco.’ So they came into the tepee and sat down at the feet of the dead young man. The grandfather then filled his pipe with red willow bark and made an offering to the spirit ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘whoever you are and wherever your spirit is now, here is an offering. We ask the favor of you that no harm shall come to us for taking your tobacco. We will always remember you when our days are ripe.’
“Just then the wild young man put his head out from under the blanket and yelled: ‘How!’
“When Charger got to this place he always quit talking awhile; but you could see the story going on. You could see how terrible the ghost looked, the way grandmother waddled as she ran, the way grandfather hopped with a lame leg, how mother covered her head with her blanket, running and falling, getting up and running some more. And you could see the father away out ahead going like a man in a foot race with his braids standing Hat out behind his head because he was getting out of there so fast. You could see grandmother look back at the ghost and faint because it was so terrible. Then grandfather looked and fainted. Then mother looked and fainted. And then there was a big foot race between father and the ghost. You could watch Charger and see it—father puffing and grunting with his eyes almost popping out of his head, the ghost puffing and grunting and looking terrible. By the time the ghost caught up and father fainted, everybody was laughing so hard that Charger would have to wait before he could finish his story. And it was not easy to quit laughing, because Charger kept on looking so sorry and surprised, as though he thought it wasn’t funny to be chased by a ghost like that.
“Then the wild young man went back to the creek and washed himself all clean, and threw the cow’s bladder away. And when he was dressed, he got on his horse and rode around so that he could come galloping from where he said he had lost something and had to go back for it.
“So he did that, and when he came to where the four old people were huddled together waiting for him, he heard all about it, and he was so brave that his father and mother and his grandfather and grandmother were very proud of him. He said: ‘I will go and get that tobacco, and if the ghost tries to chase me I will fight him They begged him not to do that because the ghost was so terrible. But he said: ‘Make a fire here and I will get the tobacco and bring the drag and the ponies so that we can eat and smoke. Maybe that ghost can chase old people; but if he tries to chase me, there is going to be a dead ghost around here.’
“They tried to hold him, but he went anyway; and afterwhile he came back with the tobacco and the horses and the drag. Then grandmother said: We are safe now, for I think the ghost is afraid of our brave young grandson.’ But when they had eaten, the old people would not even touch the tobacco.
“So the wild young man had enough for once.”
Eagle Voice chuckled for a while, enjoying the boyhood memory; and then—
“Charger could tell sad stories too,” he said. “And when he told one, the people would be looking down their noses, feeling very bad. And he could tell the kind of stories that made a boy feel cold on the back of his neck and keep looking behind in the dark, because something that was not there, was there anyway, and it might grab you all at once.—Like the one about the evil wakon who got his power from eating dead peoples’ tongues. In the night he would sprout great wings like a giant buzzard’s; and when somebody was sick and about to die, the people would hear him flapping, flapping, flapping, with a queer whisking sound above the tepee in the dark. Maybe somebody coming back late in the night would pass a new scaffold, and that man-buzzard would be sitting up there in the moonlight, and maybe the moon would be old and broken and just about to go down. Then the man-buzzard would lift slowly and fly away, and you could see him cross the moon and hear him going—flap, flap, flap, with a queer whistling sound. In the morning when relatives went to look, there would be another tongue missing! It took a long while to tell that story, because it took the people a long while to find out who was the evil wakon. They had to try this and try that and look here and look there. And when they did find out, everybody was surprised and you could hardly believe it.
“But the story that always makes me hungry is the one Charger told that night about the Two Boys Who Had Sister-Trouble. I want to tell it because what I eat these days does not do me much good, and I want to be hungry like a boy again.
“So this is the way it was with the two boys who had sister-trouble.
“A long while ago before the hoop was broken and the people still were good, there was a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and something bad would happen if you did the wrong way. I have told you how a man could not speak to his daughter-in-law and she could not speak to him, even when they lived in the same tepee. If they had to say something to each other, they said it to the son’s mother and she said it to the other one. Neither could the two eat together. It was the same way with a brother and sister when they were no longer little children. They respected each other so much that if they had to say something to each other they would say it to their mother and she would tell it. These ways were good for the people, but now there is nothing good at all. In those days a young man wanted his sisters to be proud of him, and they might make beaded clothing for him to show how proud they were, but they would be so ashamed to say it to him that they would rather die.
“Now there was a young Shyela [Cheyenne] and his name was Thunder Sounds. His father was a chief and people looked up to him. Also the family had many ponies and a fine tepee. Thunder Sounds was a very good-looking young man and his clothes were fine because his mother and his sisters thought so much of him. He wore a shield of otter skin across his breast. His quiver was full of arrows and covered with porcupine quills; and even his blanket was beautifully quilled. Also he had two fine spotted ponies that looked just alike. But I think he was prouder of his two older sisters than he was of the ponies, because they were very good to see and already they could do any woman’s work a little better than any of the other girls could.
“This happened in the spring when the people were moving camp, and Thunder Sounds, not being a man yet, did something just for fun that would bother his sisters at their work. They were so bothered that they forgot all about the right way to do, and scolded him. And that was how it began.
“When the camp moved, Thunder Sounds did not go along. He stayed right there, sitting on the ground in his fine clothes with his head hanging and his two spotted ponies looking at him with their heads hanging too; for it made them sad to feel how sad he was. It was morning when the camp moved, and when the sun was getting low, he still sat there thinking and thinking about his sisters and about death. Not only had they spoken to him and thus shown they did not respect him; they had even scolded him the way you scold a dog for stealing your meat. He knew that he just could not live any more; but how could he find death?
“About that time a young man came back from the camp and stood beside Thunder Sounds and said: ‘Your sisters have sent me. They are sorry and they are crying for you to come back. Also they are cooking some tender meat just for you.’ But Thunder Sounds did not lift his head and the ponies did not lift their heads either, and the young man heard nothing but his own words. So afterwhile he got tired standing there, and went away. And the sun went down and there were stars and it was still.
“Then Thunder Sounds stood up and began singing a death-song there in the big empty night, and the ponies neighed shrill. When he had sung, he mounted and the other pony followed and the three went away in the still starlight, looking for death.
“As he rode, Thunder Sounds thought: Surely tomorrow or the next day or the next I shall meet an enemy who will kill me, and then all the shame will be gone. All night long he rode, and when the morning star looked out across the world where it was no longer night nor yet quite day, and he could hardly keep the saddle any more, and the ponies stumbled with weariness, he lay down on the prairie, thinking: Maybe an enemy will find me while I sleep and the sun will never see my shame again.
“But when he awoke, the sun was high and staring hard at him; so he got upon a pony and rode away, and the other pony followed. And as he rode he lifted up his voice and sang a death-song. Some wrinkled old hills mocked him, and a flock of crows jeered, fleeing from his shame.
“Now the sun was getting low again, and as Thunder Sounds rode, there grew a gnawing in his belly even sharper than the shame that gnawed his breast; and he said to himself: Am I a sick old woman to die by starving? It is no way for a brave man to meet death. I will eat and be strong to meet death like a man. So he found a water hole and let the ponies drink. Then he hobbled them and left them where the grass was deep along the slough. And having done these things, he hid with his bow and arrows near the water hole and waited, with that gnawing getting sharper in his belly. It was not long before some fat deer came there to drink in the cool evening. So that night he feasted long beside his lonely fire; but when the gnawing in his belly had grown dull and ceased, the gnawing in his breast grew sharp again for all the heaviness of sleep that was upon him, and he thought: This meat and a good sleep will make me strong to die tomorrow like a man. And he slept.
“Then all at once the sun was staring hard at him again and the hobbled ponies were looking down at him and nickering. So Thunder Sounds filled his belly again against the gnawing, and, having done so, he said to himself: Here is much good meat left. I cannot be always stopping to hunt food when I am looking for death; and if I do not eat, how can I be strong to die like a man? So he made a drying rack from bushes that grew along the slough, and stripped the meat and hung it on the rack to dry in the hot sun. It was the third evening at that camp before the meat was light and dry and he could start again in search of death.
“Now it happened the next evening that Thunder Sounds came to a deep narrow valley where trees grew and a little stream flowed among the trees and the grass was deep and green beside the running water. There was growling, jolting thunder just beyond the valley, and yonder clouds were piling up above the treetops, and surely there was going to be much rain. So Thunder Sounds thought: I have no tepee; it is nearly night already, and the rain will be cold. It is no way for a brave man to get sick and shiver until he dies. Maybe there is a cave to shelter me so that I may be strong to die like a man when I meet an enemy.
“And so there was a cave but not just one. There were many caves, one above the other up the steep side of the valley. The thin flat stone top of one was the flat stone floor of the next one higher up. So Thunder Sounds hobbled the ponies and left them where the grass was deep and green. Then he took his bundle of papa [dried meat] and crawled into one of these caves a little way up the steep side of the valley where he would not be far from his ponies.
“Thunder roared, lightning flashed, the wind howled, the rain came down like a river; but Thunder Sounds was dry and warm, and being weary and full of dried meat, he slept a dead sleep.
“When he awoke, the storm was gone, the night was still and there were stars out yonder above the dark treetops. He held his breath and listened. There was a sound just beneath him—a low regular sound like breathing; then it was louder like the snoring of a heavy sleeper; then it changed into snorts for a while, and again it was like steady breathing.
“Thunder Sounds lay there awhile wondering if it might be a bear there below him; but while he wondered, the breather snorted again and began muttering queer words. And although the words had no meaning at all, he knew that no bear could have said them. And he thought: It is no bear, but a man. So he reached down into the cave below; and hardly had he done this when a hand seized his and held it with a strong grip. There was no sound of breathing now, and it seemed a long while before anything happened. Then the grip loosened, and he could feel the man’s fingers making sign talk upon his: ‘Who are you?’ Then Thunder Sounds made the signs for Shyela, and asked in the same way: ‘Who are you?’ And the other, with a rubbing of finger across finger, like two trees scraping each other in a wind, made answer; and Thunder Sounds thought: This is a Chickasaw and maybe the enemy I have been looking for. But as he thought this, the other made a sign that seemed to mean, let us sleep.’ Then the hand went limp and dropped away, and the deep breathing began again.
“Right away after that, it seemed to Thunder Sounds, the sun leaped up above the trees and stared hard upon his face, for he had fallen into a heavy sleep. His first thought was of the enemy there beneath him. So he sprang out of his cave, and at the same time the other sprang out of his cave, and there the two stood silent for a while just looking at each other so surprised they hardly breathed at all.
“Surely they were very handsome young men, and they looked so much alike that they could have been twins. Each wore an otter skin shield upon his breast. Their quivers were beautiful with porcupine quills and full of arrows, and the blanket that each held with one hand about his waist was very finely quilled. Only the sun saw them, but if anyone else had been looking he would have said: ‘These handsome young men have fathers the people praise, and their mothers and sisters love them very much.’
“After they had looked hard into each other’s eyes for a while, the Chickasaw began sign-talking and the other answered, sign-talking, and I will tell you in words what passed between them. The stranger said: ‘If you are a Shyela, where are you going and what are you looking for?’ And Thunder Sounds said: ‘I am riding far looking for death. If you are a Chickasaw, where are you going and what are you looking for?’ And the other answered: ‘I am looking for the same thing! Why do you want to die?’ And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘I have two older sisters more beautiful than all other girls in the world and they have scolded me, so I cannot live any more.’ The Chickasaw looked hard at Thunder Sounds for a while with his mouth wide open and no sound or breath in it, he was so surprised. Then he said, sign-talking: ‘You lie, Shyela! They are not more beautiful than my two older sisters who have scolded me too, and that is why I am riding far looking for death.’
“Now Thunder Sounds sprang back from the other, sign-talking fast: ‘You are looking for death. I am looking for death. It is right here!’ He dropped his blanket and grasped his knife and crouched, ready to spring upon his enemy; and as he did so the Chickasaw did the same thing. But each seemed waiting for the other, and when they had looked hard at each other for a long while, Thunder Sounds dropped his knife and sign-talked again: ‘It is still early and we have not eaten. I have much meat. Let us eat first, and we shall be the stronger to kill each other.’ Then the Chickasaw also dropped his knife and sign-talked back: ‘It is well. Let us eat first.’
“So the two sat down with the dried meat between them, like two brothers who are twins, and when the meat was all gone, the Chickasaw said: ‘I will go to the creek for a drink, then I will give you what you are looking for.’ And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘I too will drink before I give you what you want.’ So, side by side, they went to the creek and, side by side, they stooped and drank, and as they did so, Thunder Sounds’ two spotted ponies came stumbling close and nickered; and the Chickasaw’s two piebald ponies, that were just alike, came stumbling close and nickered. And when the two young men stood up full of sweet, cool water and drew long breaths, they looked at each other again; and all at once the Chickasaw grinned, maybe because his belly felt so good. And when Thunder Sounds saw the grin, he grinned also, for was his belly not as full as the other’s?
“When the two had walked back to where they had left their knives on the ground, each stood waiting for the other to pick his up. But neither would stoop first. So afterwhile the Chickasaw said, sign-talking: ‘Let us play the hand-game before we die. If you win all I have, you will kill me. If I win all you have, I will kill you.’ And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘Let us play the hand-game.’ So they did.
“First they cut two small sticks that could be held in a closed hand, one with the bark left on and the other peeled. Then they cut twelve larger sticks for each, to be used as counters. And when this was done, the Chickasaw said: ‘My ponies against your ponies.’ And the game began. First the Chickasaw sang, ‘Hi-yay, hi-yay—hi-ee-hi-yay,’ while Thunder Sounds swung his hands about him in time with the song, changing the little sticks from one hand to the other as he did so. When the singing stopped suddenly, the swinging stopped too, and Thunder Sounds held his closed fists up in front of him that the other might guess which held the unpeeled stick. The guess was wrong, and so the Shyela had thirteen counters. The game went on, the Chickasaw singing and Thunder Sounds swinging. Sometimes one had nearly all the counters, then the other had nearly all the counters; but afterwhile the Chickasaw had them all, and the ponies were his.
“Then Thunder Sounds said in sign-talk: ‘My otter shield, my blanket, my breech clout, my leggings, my moccasins, my bow and arrows, everything but my knife, against yours.’ So they each stripped and placed these things in a pile. Then Thunder Sounds began singing, the Chickasaw began swinging, and after each had nearly won many times, Thunder Sounds, at last, had all the counters and the Chickasaw had no clothes and no bow and arrows—only the four ponies, his knife and his gleaming long hair. And the Chickasaw, being angry, said: ‘My hair against your hair.’ And he took the sticks, swinging while the other sang. It took a long while, but this time Thunder Sounds lost. Then the Chickasaw gave a war whoop, and, seizing one of the counters for a coup-stick, he struck his enemy, crying, ‘An-ho.’ And when he had counted coup, he cut off the gleaming long hair of Thunder Sounds close up to the scalp and danced a few steps of the victory dance.
“This made the Shyela angry, and he said: ‘All that I have but my knife against your hair.’ And after much singing and swinging and guessing, Thunder Sounds had all the counters. Then with a war whoop he seized a counter for a coup-stick and struck the other, crying, ‘an-ho.’ And having counted coup on his enemy, he cut off the long gleaming hair of the Chickasaw close up to the scalp and danced a few steps of the victory dance.
“When this was done, each stepped back to where his knife was lying on the ground; but neither stooped. And as they stood there looking at each other, the Chickasaw began to grin again—a grin that broadened until his whole face was puckered. Seeing this, the Shyela also began to grin—a grin that broadened until it touched his eyes and set them dancing. And seeing this, the Chickasaw snickered. Then Thunder Sounds snickered; and all at once both began to laugh so loud that the steeps along the narrow valley roared with mirth, and the four ponies yonder in the deep green grass lifted up their voices all together in screaming laughter. If there had been anyone there to see, he might have said: ‘These young men are dying of the bellyache the way they hold their bellies and howl. Naked and hairless!—ho ho ho, ha ha ha, he he he hi-ya-hi-o!’ They looked so funny to each other, that it was a long while before they could stop laughing; and when they stopped at last, they were standing with their arms about each other to keep from falling down, for the very weakness of mirth. With the tears running down their faces, they were like twins long parted who had found each other again—but the tears were tears of laughter.
“And after a while, they staggered apart, and the Chickasaw said, sign-talking: ‘You are too funny to kill.’ Then he held his belly again and howled, and Thunder Sounds sign-talked, saying: ‘You are as funny as I am.’ Then he held his belly and howled awhile.
“And when the laughing-fit was over, the Chickasaw said: ‘Let us not kill each other at all. We will be brother-friends. I will give you all that was mine along with my hair. You will give me all that was yours along with your hair. Then we will both go home and tell our people to meet here when two moons have come and gone and the next new moon is low above the sunset. There shall be a big feast and our people shall be as one people forever.’
“And Thunder Sounds replied: ‘It is good; let it be as you say, my brother.’
“So when they had held each other close for a while, each dressed in the other’s clothes, and with the other’s hair and weapons rode away towards his home, the Chickasaw upon a spotted pony exactly like the one that followed, and Thunder Sounds upon a fine piebald pony followed by its twin.
“The narrow valley, where the grass was deep and green beside the running water and the trees made pleasant shade, lay waiting there until two moons had grown and died above it. And when the thin third moon hung low above the sunset, the place was filled with happy voices. On one side of the sweet running water the Chickasaws had pitched their tepees, and on the other side, Shyelas; and their ponies knew each other, feasting together, muzzle deep, as the peoples feasted. And the steep sides of the valley laughed and sang. And because all hearts were strong with kindness, there was a big giving-away until no one had anything left at all that had been his or hers; but everyone had plenty. Even the little children gave their playthings to each other. Men who had been strangers gave themselves and were brother-friends. And their sisters became sisters, and the father of each became the other’s uncle, and the mother of one the other’s aunt. From that day to this no Shyela has ever harmed a Chickasaw, no Chickasaw a Shyela.
“And this was all because two boys had trouble with their sisters!”