XVI XVI “I have been thinking about roads,” the old man remarked musingly, with an air of reluctant return from somewhere far off. It was the next morning, and I had waited longer than usual for the story.
“About roads?” I said; “what roads, Grandfather?”
“Good roads, bad roads, Grandson,” he replied. “I have been thinking maybe the good road is the one a man does not walk because he does not see it until he is tired and looks back. Also I have been thinking the bad road is bad because he walks it, and maybe does not see it either, until he is very tired and stops to look back. There was a road I did not walk that time, because I did not find it until I had walked across the world.”
“And what road was that, Grandfather?” I asked.
“A girl’s road,” he answered slowly, fixing his long-focused gaze upon something beyond me. “Tashina went away on it.”
He was silent awhile, until the focus of his gaze shortened to include me, and then—
“My mother and step-father were proud of me because I had given the people a good day, and they were all praising me. I think I was very proud of myself too. Maybe afterwhile when I was older and had counted many coups and all the old people praised me because I always had a big pot and tender meat for them—maybe then the wichasha yatapika, would make me one of them. And maybe when I was still older, I would be a great chief. That is what I was thinking all the time, after the sun dance, and maybe my step-father and my mother were thinking that too. So they said we must make a feast and invite very old men and women to come and eat. Also, we would ask some wise old man to come and thank the food.”
“Could not anyone give thanks for food, Grandfather?” I interrupted.
“Anyone could give thanks for food,” the old man replied. “A woman could do that. Maybe she has been cooking meat, and before she puts it out, she takes a tender piece and holds it up and says, ‘Wahnagi, eat this for me.’ She is making a thank offering to the spirits by sharing her meat with them before she eats any herself. War parties would do this too when they sat down to eat. But thanking the food was different. Not everyone could do that.
“They used to say it was not easy to walk the road of difficulties through this world; but of all the hard things, four things were hardest. Getting food was the first, and without food there is nothing else. The second hardest thing was losing your oldest child. The third was losing your woman. The fourth was having to fight a big war party when yours was small. I had an uncle when I was a boy, and his name was Flying By. Once I asked him, ‘Uncle, what is the hardest thing you have known?’ And he said, ‘My nephew, it was not any of the four hardest things people talk about.’ Then he told me of a time when he was out hunting alone over by Mini Shoshay [the Missouri], and a party of Rees chased him. He got away, for he had a good start, and hid in the thick willow brush that grew in a swamp. It was getting dark, so the Rees did not find him. He was afraid to leave the brush or make any noise. But he was not alone there. The whole nation of mosquitoes was camped in that swamp, and they were singing and dancing and feasting all night long. My uncle was the meat. ‘Nephew,’ he said, ‘there are not four, but five hardest things, and that is the hardest.’ But my uncle was always joking.
“Getting food is the hardest thing, and without it there is nothing. It is great to be brave in battle, but a great warrior must look to the food and remember the old and needy.
“So my mother borrowed some more pots from her friends who came over to help her cook the meat for the feast; and these brought with them some of the tenderest meat they had, for they wanted to help in the giving. And when the meat was all tender and the soup smelled good, I had to go all around the village, inviting the very oldest people. Kicking Bear, High Horse, and Charging Cat went along with me, because we had been brothers in a great deed. When I came to an old man, maybe he was so old that he dozed most of the time, and he would be sitting with his chin on his chest and his nose almost on his chin, and his hair, thin and white like mine, over his eyes. So I would tap him on the shoulder, and he would look up and blink, with his head shaking. ‘Heh! heh! heh!’ he would say, wondering what was wrong, for he had been far away in a dream, maybe. Then I would say, ‘Grandfather, we are going to thank the food over at our lodge, and we want you to come and help us; for we are only young men and you are gan inhuni [come to old age] and you are wise.’ And when the old man was awake and understood, maybe he was so pleased that he would cackle when he thanked me; and maybe he would show only two teeth, and neither a friend to the other. And maybe he would say, ‘You thought I was sleeping when you came; but I was just sitting here thinking about the time when I was a fine, brave young man like you. I was a good dancer, and I was good-looking too! The girls all liked me!’ Then maybe he would giggle and poke me in the ribs.
“Or maybe it would be a woman so very old that she could not get fat any more, and she was all skin and bones. And maybe she would be nodding over a moccasin she had been trying to bead for a long while, and her hands were like eagle claws, and her eyes dim, so that the moccasins did not ever get finished. And she would look up and squint hard, at me, and say, ‘Are you not so-and-so’s son?’ And it would be somebody whose name I had not heard. I would tell her my father’s name, and she would look troubled. Then she would thank me and smile at us just like our own grandmothers, and tell us we were fine boys.
“While we were going around inviting old people, my step-father went over to see Blue Spotted Horse and asked him to thank the food for us. He could do this because he was old and very wise. Also he was a holy man. He had taught me when I went on vision quest, and he had helped me in the sun dance. I was like a younger grandson to him.
“The feast was ready, so we were waiting for the old people. We could see them coming from all over the village, bringing their cups and knives with them. They were all three-legged, the way I am now, for near the end of the black road there is a cane. Some of them would be all bent over and they would be holding their heads up like turtles to see where the pots were steaming. I was a boy, straight and tall, then, and that is the way they looked to me. Some would be holding their hands on their backs where it hurt them to walk. Some of them would be hurrying and some would not be hurrying at all; but one would be coming no faster than the other.
“We could hear them making songs as they came, and when they got near enough, maybe the song would be like this:
“‘Hi-a-he! Hi-a-he!
Eagle Voice, you are brave, they say,
And I have heard.’
“Maybe it would start thin and high like singing, and then get tired all at once and be just muttering.
“‘To be a man is difficult, they say;
But you are brave and I have heard.
Many horses you have brought;
Many horses, I have heard.
Hi-a-he! Hi-a-he!’
“When we were all sitting in a circle in front of our lodge, with the full pots steaming in the middle and the old people holding their cups and knives, many people were crowding around to see. They were all still when Blue Spotted Horse stood up with his pipe near the pots. He looked very old too, for his hair was white and he stooped, and when he looked at you there were half-moons in his eyes. But when he held his hands and his pipe to the place where the sun goes down, and sent forth a voice, it went with eagle wings. There he prayed to the Power that makes live and destroys. To the place where the Great White Giant lives he turned and prayed to the Power that cleanses and heals. To the place whence come the morning star and the day, he prayed to the Power that gives light and understanding and peace. At the place whence comes the summer, he prayed to the Power of growing. Then he raised his hands and his pipe to the sky, sending a voice to Wakon Tonka, the one who has all these Powers. And last he leaned low, praying to Maka, the mother of all that live.
“When he had done this, he went to his place in the circle and sat down. There was a murmuring all around the hoop and among the crowding people. Hetchetu aloh! So it was indeed. Then Blue Spotted Horse looked all around the circle at the old people waiting with their cups and knives, and he smiled at them like a grandfather at his children’s children. Then he looked straight at us boys and began talking:
“‘Grandsons, these old people here have been sitting in their tepees with their heads down. They were thinking about where to get some good tender food. They all know you, so they all began looking up to your tepee to see if maybe smoke was coming out. Smoke came out of your tepee, and they were waiting. They were sitting there waiting with their heads down thinking of you. You had done brave deeds, so maybe you would be giving a feast. And while they were sitting there thinking, all at once there you were, inviting them to come and eat! They are not often happy any more, for the black road gets steeper before it ends. But when they heard you, all at once they were happy. You have seen them coming to your tepee, smiling and rejoicing and singing praise of you. So you see them now, all happy and sitting in a sacred manner with you in one hoop. They are holding their empty cups, and their knives they have sharpened. They are hungry, and the food you have cooked smells so good and looks so good. You are young and brave. Who but you will fill their cups with soup and tender meat?
“‘What do you want of these old people, that you have cooked all this good food for them? Surely there is something you must want; but you know very well they cannot give you anything now. Still you feed them. What do you want from them? They cannot repay you, for they have nothing.
“‘Yes, they do have something. Maybe it is the white war bonnet they wear. Maybe that is what you want them to give you. Maybe it is the wrinkled old buckskin they are wearing [their skins]; but that is almost worn out, and would not keep you from freezing on a winter trail. Maybe you want them to give you their canes; but three legs are slower than two.
“‘I think you do not want any of these things now; but maybe this is what you are thinking: I am young and I will look to the old who are worthy. They have seen their days and proven themselves. With the help of Wakon Tonka, they have grown ripe for the world of spirit, and they can see what eyes do not show. What will be, but is not yet, they can tell it; and what comes out of their mouths, it is so, because it is not with their eyes that they see. If I give them of my strength, being young, their power to live will come back to me and my family. So shall we come in our time to where the cane is; so shall we wear the white war bonnet and be ripe for the world of spirit; so we too shall see our children’s children.
“‘I thought all the while, grandsons, that there must be something you wanted for this food; and now you have told me what it is. It is good, and so shall it be.
“‘And now as we sit here together in a sacred manner, smelling all this good meat, we can hear the Food talking. It is talking to you, grandsons, and it says: “I come first, and I am sacred, for without me there is nothing. The Grandfather, Wakon Tonka, has given me to Maka, the mother of all living things, and she has shown mercy to her children that they may live. On her thousand breasts I am grass; in her thousand laps I am meat; and again on her thousand breasts I am grass. The bison’s strength is mine. The great warrior, I have made him strong for his deeds. The greedy-for-me, their days shall be easy to count; but those who are liberal with me, upon me shall they uproot their teeth [grow very old]. Unless the great warrior gives me with his deeds, they shall be as a coward’s. Let any try without me, I will always win. It is I who am the greatest warrior. If I had weapons, who could count my prisoners by now?”
“‘Grandsons, so it is the Food talks, and you have heard. Surely we must thank this sacred one, and how can we do that? Plama yelo is a breath in the mouth; it is easy to say, and no one is the fatter for it. The Food itself has told us how to thank it. We shall give it to the needy and the old.’
“When Blue Spotted Horse was through talking, the old man at his left smiled at us boys and said, ‘Ho, Grandsons! How!’ Then the next and the next spoke to us in the same way, until all the old men and old women had spoken. And when the voices had gone around the hoop from left to right, which is the sacred manner, and come back to Blue Spotted Horse, he said, ‘I am sending the food neither down nor up. The people are hungry and ready, so put it out.’
“Then we boys went around the hoop, left to right, beginning with the first old man who had spoken, and filled all the cups of the old people, Blue Spotted Horse’s last, with soup and tender meat. And this we kept on doing, until no more cups were emptied. Then we ate, and when we had eaten, the meat that was left we divided among the old people, and they went away with it, making songs about the brave young men who had fed them.”
Eagle Voice sat silent for a while, his eyes closed, his hands on his knees. Emerging from his reverie at length, he fixed his crinkled gaze on me and smiled. “You can see,” he said, “that the Food was right when it talked, for I have come to where the cane is. Most of my teeth are uprooted, and I am wearing the wrinkled buckskin and the white war bonnet. When I was young and my head was full of brave deeds and horses and coups and scalps, I have heard old men say, ‘It is good to be young and die on the prairie for the people. It is not good to grow old.’ Maybe they wanted to make us braver. Maybe the black road made them tired where it steepens. When I am all alone, I think and think; and it is about going to visit my relatives in the world of spirit that I think most; but it is good to look back and remember.”
“When you look back, Grandfather,” I said, “you see a girl’s road that you did not walk because you did not see it then. Do you wish you had seen it and walked it?”
“There are many roads, Grandson,” he answered. “They all come together, and at that place there stands a three-legged old horse always looking for the grass that used to be.” The picture of himself, drawn once before, amused him, and he chuckled over it. “Dho!” he continued. ‘It was the road Tashina Wanblee walked that time, and I did not see it until I had walked across the world.
“When the feasting was over, the bands that had come together for the sun dance were getting ready to scatter and go their own ways. Boys and men would be catching horses. Tepee poles would be clattering. Women would be scolding because the horses would not stand still while the drags were loaded. People would be visiting each other because maybe they would not meet again until next grass, or never. Maybe boys would be sneaking off into the brush to meet their girls, and maybe some boy would run away that night and follow the trail of a girl so that he could talk to her under the blanket once more.
“High Horse was a Miniconjou and Kicking Bear was a Hunkpapa. They were going to Pa Sapa [the Black Hills] with their people. But we had big plans. When the fall hunt was over, they would come back again and find our village somewhere on the Greasy Grass [Little Big Horn] or the Powder or the Tongue. Then the three of us and Charging Cat, and maybe some others, would make war against the Shoshonis or the Crows, or maybe both of them. It was harder to make war in the winter than in the summer, and if we got back with horses and scalps we would be great warriors and everybody would be talking about us again. Maybe we would all be chiefs sometime. We had been together most of the time after the sun dance and thanking the food, and we talked and talked about our plan. We would ride out into the hills alone and talk about how we would do. So we were not thinking about girls. Even High Horse had not been sick, since getting all those horses cured him.
“I was out helping to catch horses, and I was riding back leading three of them. At the creek I stopped to let them drink, and there was some brush there. I was leaning on my horse’s neck, and I heard something moving in the brush. When I looked, it was Tashina. Maybe she saw me going after horses, and came down there to see me before she went away. She was just standing there outside the brush with a pretty trader’s shawl over her shoulders and up over her head. She was holding it close about her face, and when I looked at her, she pulled it closer and looked down at the ground. I was glad to see her, and I spoke to her the same as to a boy. I joked and said, ‘If you are out looking for a horse again, here are three real ones.’ I was thinking of when she caught me for a horse and made me pull her drag. She just kept on looking at the ground with the shawl tight about her face. And when I stopped joking, I could hear her saying, ‘Shonka ‘kan, Shonka ‘kan, you made me proud.’ She said it so low that I could just hear her. Maybe I would have jumped off my horse then; but the three horses were full of grass and water and felt good, so when they saw some other horses coming, they neighed and reared. Two of them broke away, dragging their lariats, bucking and kicking and breaking wind. So I said, ‘Hold this horse for me while I catch the others.’ It was an old horse and it did not feel so good as the others. Then I rode off on the run. The horses were hard to catch again; and when I came back, the other horse was tied by his lariat to the brush, and Tashina was not there.”
After a silence, the old man looked up at me and continued: “The bands moved off that day, and I rode awhile with High Horse and Kicking Bear. The people were all strung out, and we would ride up and down, talking to people we knew. I saw Tashina. She was riding an old mare, and when I came up to her, I thought I would joke with her again so I thanked her for holding my horse. She did not say anything and did not look up at me. When the sun was halfway down, I turned back towards our village with others who had come along.
“We had a big bison hunt that fall, the Oglalas and Sans Arcs together, and I was not looking for calves any more. When the advisers chose the young warriors who should kill meat for the old and needy, I was one they chose. It was a big honor for a young man. We went up to Elk River [Yellowstone] first. I was out with a scouting party up there, and we found some stakes driven into the ground. It was where the Wasichus were going to make another iron road. People had talked much about this, but I saw the stakes, and we pulled up all we saw and threw them away. People had talked much about the other iron road too, the one along the Shell [Platte]. It stopped the bison and cut the herd in two. Now the Wasichus would build an iron road on the other side of us also. It was what Wooden Cup told the people long ago. Sometimes when I heard this talk I was afraid.
We found a big herd and followed it slowly, killing only what we wanted. It was a happy time. Before the snow came we were back on Powder River with more papa and wasna than we could eat. There was feasting and we were happy. I wish I had some of that meat now. It had strength in it. If somebody could thank the food, maybe I would be invited to help.”
“I am not worthy to thank the food, Grandfather,” I said; “but let us have a feast tomorrow anyway. We can invite two or three of your friends. I will bring the feast and maybe your daughter will cook it for us.”
“Hi-yayl” the old man exclaimed; “Washtay! Let us have a feast It will be good.”