Read Ebook: Trails Through Western Woods by Sanders Helen Fitzgerald

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The festival of the Sun Dance was celebrated every year in the month of July, when the omnipotent orb reached his greatest strength, is, indeed, still celebrated, but without the torture which was its reason for being. A pole was driven deep and solid in the ground and from the top, somewhat after the manner of a May-pole, long, stout thongs depended. After incantations by the Medicine Men, the youths desiring to distinguish themselves came forward in the presence of the assembled multitude, to receive the torture which should condemn them as squaw men or entitle them to fold their blankets as braves.

With a scalping knife the skin was slit over each breast and raised so a thong from the pole could pass beneath and be fastened to the strip of flesh. When all were bound thus, the dance began to the time of a tom-tom and the chant. Goaded by pride into a kind of frenzy the novices danced faster, more wildly, leaping higher, bending lower, until they tore the cords loose from their bleeding bosoms and were free. If, during the ordeal, one fainted or yielded in any way to the agony, he was disgraced before his tribe, cast out as a white-hearted squaw man until the next year's festival, when he might try to wipe out the stain and enter the band of the brave. If, on the other hand, all the young men bore the torture without flinching, their spirits rising superior to all bodily pain, they were received as warriors and earned the right to wear the medicine bag. Often one of greater puissance than his fellows wished further to distinguish himself by a test extraordinary and submitted to a second torture more heroic than the first. He suffered the skin over his shoulder blades to be slit as his breast had been and through these gashes thongs were drawn and fastened as before, but this time the ends were attached to a sacred bison's skull, kept for the purpose, which the brave dragged over rough, rocky ground and through underbrush, until his strained flesh gave way and freed him of his burden. This feat entitled him to additional honors and he was respected and held worthy by the great men of the tribe.

After the torture, when a youth was declared a brave he retired to the wilderness, there in solitude to await the message of the Great Spirit which would reveal to him his medicine, or charm.

This "making medicine" as it was called, was a rite of most solemn sacredness and secrecy and therefore shrouded in mystery. From the lips of one who, in days past, when the ancient customs were rigidly preserved, followed and watched a newly made brave, the ensuing narrative was gleaned.

After dark the young Indian took his way cautiously far off into silent, unpeopled places where sharp escarpments cut like cameos against the sky. There, poised upon the cliffs, his slim figure silhouetted against the moonlit clouds, he remained rigid as a statue through long hours, waiting for the Voice from Above by whose revelation he should learn wherein his power lay. Then lifting his arms towards the heavens he made strange signs to the watchful stars. So he remained 'till dawn paled from the East, when, having received his message, he went forth to seek the animal which should hereafter be his manitou, or guardian spirit. Sometimes it was the bison, the elk, the beaver, the weasel or other beast of his native wild. Into his bag he put a tooth or claw and some fur of the chosen creature, with herbs which might be propitious. Such was his charm, his medicine-bag, the source of his valour and safety, to be worn sleeping and waking, in peace and in war; to be guarded with his life and to go with him in death back to the Great Spirit by whom it was ordained.

If a warrior lost his medicine-bag in battle, he became an outcast among his people and his disgrace was not to be wiped out until he slew and took from an enemy's body the medicine-bag which replaced his own and thus retrieved his honour.

Of all the quaint ceremonies connected with the old wood-worship and sun-worship, combining the idea of Beginning and End, of pre-existence and after-existence, none are more interesting than the rites attending the burial of the dead. As the Indians sprang from the forest trees, according to the myth of the leaves, lived in the shadow of the pleasant woods, so at last, they were received into the strong, embracing branches that tossed over them in wild gestures when the Great Spirit spoke in anger from the sky; that tempered the Summer's heat into cooling shadow for their repose; that shed their gift of crimson leaves upon the Indians' devoted heads even as they, themselves, must shed the garb of flesh before the blast of death. Or, sometimes, the dead were exalted upon a naked rock, rising above earth's levels toward the sun. Wherever his resting place might be, the dead man sat upright, if a brave, dressed in his full war regalia, surrounded by his most prized possessions and if he owned a horse, it was shot so its shade might bear his spirit on the long, dark, devious way to the Happy Hunting Ground. No mournful ghost who met his death in darkness could ever bask in the celestial light of endless Summer-time; he was doomed to become a phantom living in perpetual night. That is the reason none but forced battles were fought after dark; the bravest of the braves feared the curse of everlasting shadow. They believed, too, that no warrior who lost his scalp could enter the fields of the glorious; hence the taking of an enemy's scalp at once killed and damned him. The suicide was likewise barred from Paradise.

Years ago, when the feuds of the hostile tribes still broke into the red vengeance of the war-path, the Sioux and Cheyennes did battle with the Gros Ventres at Squaw Butte, and by some mischance a medicine man of the Sioux, not engaged in the combat, whose generalship lay in marshalling the manitous to the aid of his people, was killed. A traveller, journeying alone in the mountains, found him high upon a cliff with his blanket and war dress tumbling about his bleaching bones, his medicine-bag and all the emblems of his magic preserved intact. In the bag was a grizzly bear's claw, an elk's tooth, and among other trinkets, a small, smooth brass button of the kind worn by the rivermen trading up and down the Missouri River between the East and the savage West. It would be interesting to trace the migrations and transfiguration of that little button from its existence as an humble article of dress to the dignity of a charm in the medicine-bag of the old magician on that isolated cliff. And the Master of Magic himself; he of prophetic powers and knowledge born of intercourse with the gods; there he sat, an arrow through his skull, his blind, eyeless sockets uplifted to the sun, his necromancy unavailing, his wisdom but a dream! In that remote home which his devoted tribesmen chose for him, no irreverent hand had disturbed his watch, and he is probably still sitting, sitting with blind eyes toward the sun while eagles circle overhead and gray wolves howl to the moon. The years pass on unheeded, the face of the land has changed, is changing, will change, and the rustling, swirling leaves of Autumn fall thick and fast. Mayhap, after all, the old Magic Master, keeping his eternal vigil, may see from beyond the flesh the thinning woods and the dead leaves dropping from the trees; hear their weary rustle--poor ghosts, as they flutter before the wintry wind. And among the lessening trees, also driven by the Northern blast, does he see also, a gaunt and silent troop of phantoms--mere Autumn leaves--whirling away before the Storm?

THE PASSING BUFFALO

It was summertime in the mountains--that short, passionate burst of warm life between the long seasons of the snow. The world lay panting in the white light of the sun, over gorge and pine-clad hill floated streamers of haze, and along the ground slanted thin, blue shadows. The sky pulsed in ether waves and the distant peaks, azure also, with traceries of silver, were as dim as the memory of a dream. In this untrodden wilderness the passing years have left no record save in the gradual growth of forest trees, and in its rugged beauty it is the same as a century ago. Therefore time itself seems arrested, and it is scarcely strange to come upon a buffalo skull naked and bleached by sun and rain, and close by, half hidden in the loose rocks, an arrow head of pure, black obsidian.

This, then, was once the scene of a brave chase when wind-swift Indians pursued mad, hurtling herds over mountain slope and plain. These empty fastnesses thrilled to the shock of thousands of beating hoofs, these hills flung back the echo to the brooding silence as the black tide flowed on, pressed by deadly huntsmen armed with barb and bow. And even then, far over the horizon, unseen by hunted and hunters, silent as the shadow of a cloud, inevitable as destiny, came the White Race, moving swifter than either one, driving them unawares toward the great abyss where they should vanish forever into the Happy Hunting Ground, lighted by perpetual Summer and peopled by immortal herds and tribes.

In such a remote and deserted place as this, no great effort of the imagination is needed to call up the shades of those who once inhabited it, to react their part in the tragedy of progress. Let us fancy that a riper, richer glow is upon the mountains, that the white light of the sun has deepened into an amber flood which quivers between the arch of lapis-lazuli sky and the warm, balsam-scented earth that sighs forth the life of the woods. Already the trees not of the evergreen kind are hung with bewilderingly gorgeous leaves of scarlet, russet-brown and yellowing green; the haze has grown denser and its ghostly presence insinuates itself among the very needles of the pines. It is Autumn. The gush of life has reached its climax and is ebbing. High on the steepled mountains is a wreath of filmy white that trails low in the ravines. It seems as fragile as a bridal veil, but it is the foreword of Winter which will soon descend with driving blast and piping gale, lancing sleet and enshrouding snow to chill the last red ember-glow of the brilliant autumnal days. It was at this time that the Indian's blood ran hot with longing for the hunt. Lodges were abandoned and only those too weak to stand the hardship of the march were left behind. Chiefs and braves, women and children struck out for the haunts of the buffalo where the fat herds grazed before the impending cold.

These children of the forest sought their prey with the woodcraft handed down from old to young through unnumbered generations. Indeed, it was necessary for them to outwit the game by strategy in the early days before the wealthy and progressive Nez Perc? Kayuses, who were first to break the wild horses of the western plains, brought the domesticated pony among them. In passing, it is interesting to know that the term "cayuse" applied to all Indian horses, had its origin with this tribe, since the chief article of trade of the Kayuses was the horse, the horse of Indian commerce became known as a "cayuse." The Selish used the method of the stockade. After the march into the buffalo country, they camped in a spot where they could easily fashion an enclosed park by means of barricades built among the trees. A great council of the chiefs and warriors was held and this august body appointed a company of braves to guard the camp and prevent any person from leaving its boundaries lest in so doing the wily buffalo should become alarmed and quit the neighbouring hills. The council proclaimed anew the ancient laws of the chase, and then began the building of the pen. This was a kind of communal work in which the entire tribe engaged, and as all contributed labor so all should benefit alike from its fruits. There within the mock park, whose pleasant green fringe of trees was in reality a prison wall, would be trapped and killed the food for the sterile winter months, when, but for that bounty, starvation would stalk gaunt among them and lay the strongest warrior as low as a new born babe or the feebly old who totter on the threshold of death. The place chosen for the pen was a level glade and the enclosure was built with a single opening facing a cleft in the surrounding hills. From this opening, an avenue also cunningly fenced and gradually widening towards the hills, was constructed, so that the animals driven thither, could escape neither to the right nor the left, but must needs plunge into the imprisoning park.

Then through the silent, human barricade rode the bravest of the braves, astride the fleetest horse and he went unarmed, always against the wind, enveloped in a buffalo skin which hung down over his mount. All was quiet. Only the light Autumn wind flowing through the trees carried the curious, crisp, cropping noise of thousands of iron-strong jaws tearing the lush, green grass. And as the rider came upon the crest of the hill and looked at the panorama of waving verdure peopled by multitudes of bison stretching far away across the meadows and over the rolling ground beyond, it must have been a sight to quicken the pulses and stir the blood. Suddenly there sounded a prolonged and distressing cry--the cry of a buffalo calf which wailed shrilly for a moment, then ceased. It came from the brave alone in the open, shrouded in the buffalo hide.

There was a movement in the herd. Every heavily maned head rose, and quivering nostrils snuffed the running wind. At first the buffalo advanced slowly, as if in doubt; gradually their pace quickened to a trot, a gallop, then lo! the whole vast band came hurtling and lurching in its furious career like the swells of a tempestuous, black sea, breaking into angry waves at every shock. And from those deep throats came a mighty roar, ponderous and resonant as the thunder of the surf.

Still the cry of the calf reverberated and re-echoed, and the single horseman crouching beneath his masquerade, led the herd on and on, eluding their onslaught, luring them forward between the lines of his companions who stood silent, trembling with eagerness for the sport. Then pell-mell the mounted hunters rushed out from cover and the wide extremes of the V shaped line closed in so that the horsemen were behind the herd. This done, the wind blowing toward the corral, took the scent of the Indians to the buffalo. Pandemonium reigned. Men, women and children on foot, leaped out from their hiding places with demoniac yells, brandishing spears, hurling stones and shooting arrows from their bows. The stampeded animals, surrounded save for the one loophole ahead, plunged into the pen. The chase was over and the slaughter began. The tribe would live well that Winter-time!

Among the Omawhaws of the first part of the last century, the hunt was preceded by much preparation and ceremony. Generally by the month of June their stores of jerked buffalo meat were well-nigh exhausted, and the little crops of maize, pumpkins, beans and water-melons, with the yield of the small hunting parties pursuing beaver, otter, elk, deer and other game, were scarcely sufficient to fill the wants of the tribe. So, after the harvesting and trading were done, the chiefs called a council and ordered a feast to be held in the lodge of one of the most distinguished of their number, to which all hunters, warriors and chiefs should be invited. Accordingly the squaws of the chosen host were commanded by him to make ready the choicest maize and the plumpest dog for the ceremonial board. When all was in readiness the host called two or three venerable criers to his lodge. He smoked the calumet with them, then whispered that they should go through the village proclaiming the feast and bidding the guests whom he named. He instructed the criers to "speak in a loud voice and tell them to bring their bowls and spoons." They sallied forth singing among the lodges, calling to the distinguished personages to come to the banquet. After these summons the criers went back to the lodge of the host, quickly followed by the guests who were seated according to their rank. The ceremony of smoking was performed first, then the Head Chief arose, thanked his braves for coming and explained to them the object of the assembly, which was the selection of a hunting ground and the appointment of a time to start. After him the others spoke, each giving his opinion frankly, but always careful to be respectful of the opinions of others.

An old man of high standing then addressed the people, telling them that the coveted game at length was nigh, and that on the morrow they would be rewarded for the long fast and fatigue.

Early in the morning the hunters on horseback, carrying only bows and arrows and the warriors provided with war-clubs, led by the pipe-bearer who bore the sacred calumet, advanced on foot. Once in view of the splendid, living masses covering the green plains as with a giant sable robe, they halted for the pipe-bearer, the representative of the Magi, to perform the propitiatory rite of smoking. He lighted his calumet of red, baked clay, bowed his head in silence, then held the stem in the direction of the herds. After this he smoked, exhaling the aromatic clouds towards the buffalo, the heavens, the earth and the four points of the compass, called by them the "sunrise, sunset, cold country and warm country," or by the collective term of the "four winds." At the completion of this ceremony the head chief gave the signal and the huntsmen charged upon their prey.

The chase was the grand event, the test of horsemanship, of archery, of fine game-craft and often the opportunity for glory on the war-path as well--for where the buffalo abounded there lurked the hidden enemy, also seeking the coveted herds, and an encounter meant battle to the death. Both ponies and hunters were trained to the ultimate perfection of skill and the favoured buffalo horse served no other purpose than to bear his master in the chase. As the cavalcade descended upon the startled game, the rider caressed his faithful steed, called him "father," "brother," "uncle," conjured him not to fear the angry beasts yet not to be too bold lest he be hurt by goring horns and stamping hoofs, and urged him with honeyed speech to the full fruit of his strength and cunning. And the horse, responding, flew with wing?d stride, unguided by reins to the edge of the compact, fleeing band, never hesitating, never halting until the shoulder of the animal pursued, was exposed to the death-dealing shot. It was just behind the shoulder blade that the huntsman sought to strike. The inclination of his body in one direction or another was sufficient to send the horse speeding after fresh prey.

Onward and onward they sped, circling and advancing at once, like a whirlwind on the face of the prairie. At length, the darting riders were seen more and more vividly as they compressed their line about the routed band, until finally, only a heap of carcasses lay where the herd had been. Then the tribe came upon the scene. The squaws cut and packed the meat. If a hunter were unfortunate and killed no game, he helped dissect the buffalo of a lucky rival. On completion of his task he stuck his knife in the portion of the meat he desired and it was given to him as compensation for his labor.

Someone, either by order of the chief or of his own free will, presented his kill to the Medicine for a feast. There was great revelry and joy, dancing and eating of marrow bones, to celebrate the aftermath of the royal sport.

The buffalo was, in truth, the great political factor among the tribes; nearly all of the bitter warfare between nation and nation was for no other purpose than to maintain or gain the right to hunt in favourable fields. Thus the Judith Basin, the region of the Musselshell and many other haunts of the herds, became also battle fields of bloodshed and death. Not only did the bison cause hostilities among the nations, but they were likewise the reason of internal strife. It is said that the Assiniboines, or Sioux of the Mountains, separated from the main body of the tribe on account of a dispute between the wives of two rival chiefs, each of whom persisted in having for her portion the entire heart of a fine bison slain in the chase. This was the beginning of a feud which split the nation into independent, antagonistic tribes.

The utmost economy was generally observed by the early Indians in the use of the buffalo. Each part of the animal served some particular purpose. The tongue, the hump and the marrow bones of the thighs were considered the greatest delicacies. The animals killed for meat were almost always cows, for the flesh of buffalo bulls could be eaten only during the months of May and June.

Among the Sioux at Pine Ridge and Rosebud, in the ceremony of the Ghost Dance, pemmican was celebrated in the sacred songs. Mr. Mooney gives the translation of one of them:

Though at first the main object for which the buffalo was hunted was the flesh, next in importance and afterwards foremost, was the hide made into the buffalo robe of commerce. Since these robes played such an important part in the early traffic and were partly responsible for the annihilation of the bison, it is worth while to consider how they were procured and treated. The skins to be dressed were taken in the early Spring while the fur was long, thick and luxuriant. Those obtained in the Autumn called "Summer skins" were used only in the making of lodges, clothing, and for other domestic purposes. To the squaws was assigned the preparation of the hides as well as the cutting and curing of the meat. Immediately after the hunt while in the "green" state the skins were stretched and dried. After this, they were taken to the village and subjected to a process of curing which was carried on during the leisure of the women. The hide was nearly always cut down the center of the back so that it could be more easily manipulated. The two parts were then spread upon the ground and scraped with a tool like an adze until every particle of flesh was removed. In this way all unnecessary thickness was obviated and the hide was made light and pliable. When the skin had been reduced to the proper thinness a dressing made of the liver and brains of the animal were spread over it. This mixture was allowed to dry and the same process was repeated save that in the second instance while the hide was wet it was stretched in a frame, carefully scraped with pumice stone, sharp-edged rocks or a kind of hoe, until it was dry. To make it as flexible as possible, it was then drawn back and forth over twisted sinew. The parts were sewed together with sinew and the buffalo robe was ready for the trader's hands.

As early as 1819 these robes were in great demand and one trader reported that in a single year he shipped fifteen thousand to St. Louis.

In the everyday life of the Indians the products of the buffalo yielded nearly every comfort and necessity. The hides were used not only for robes and portable lodges which furnished shelter on the march, but they were made into battle shields; upon their tanned surface the primitive artist traced his painted record of the chase, the fray, or the mystic medicine. They were laid upon the earth for the young braves to play their endless games of chance upon, and the wounded were taken from the field on stretchers of buffalo hides swung between a pair of ponies. From them two kinds of boats were made. One, described by James in his account of the journey of his party in 1819-20 is as follows:

"Our heavy baggage was ferried across in a portable canoe, consisting of a single bison hide, which we carried constantly with us. Its construction was extremely simple; the margin of the hide being pierced with several small holes, admits a cord, by which it is drawn into the form of a shallow basin. This is placed upon the water, and is kept sufficiently distended by the baggage which it receives; it is then towed or pushed across. A canoe of this kind will carry from four to five hundred pounds."

The second variety, known as a "bull-boat," was made of willows woven into a round basket and lined with buffalo hide.

The grease of these beasts was used to anoint the Indians' bodies and to season the maize or corn.

From the horns were made spoons, sometimes holding half a pint, and often ornamented upon the handles with curious carving.

The shoulder blade fastened to a stick served for a hoe or a plow.

From the hide of unborn buffalo calves bags were made to contain the war-paint of braves.

It would be at once possible and profitable to continue enumerating the practical uses of the buffalo, but far more interesting than these facts were the ceremonies, superstitions and traditions in which they were bound up.

Perhaps, first among the rites in sacred significance and solemn dignity was the smoking of the calumet. This was supposed to be not only an expression of peace among men and nations, but a propitiatory offering to the Manitous, or guardian spirits, and to the Master of Life.

"At a little distance in front of the entrance of this breastwork, was a semi-circular row of sixteen bison skulls, with their noses pointing down the river. Near the center of the circle which this row would describe if continued, was another skull marked with a number of red lines.

"Our interpreter informed us that this arrangement of skulls and other marks here discovered, were designed to communicate the following information, namely, that the camp had been occupied by a war party of the Pawnee Loup Indians, who had lately come from an excursion against the Cumancias, Tetans or some of the Western tribes. The number of red lines traced on the painted skull indicated the number of the party to have been thirty-six; the position in which the skulls were placed, that they were on their return to their own country. Two small rods stuck in the ground, with a few hairs tied in two parcels to the end of each signified that four scalps had been taken."

There are many other similar instances recorded by different adventurers who braved the early West, yet this was but one of numerous uses of buffalo skulls and heads. Among the Aricaras upon each lodge was a trophy of the war path or the chase composed of strangely painted buffalo heads topped with all kinds of weapons.

There was a curious belief among the Minitarees that the bones of the buffalo killed in the chase became rehabilitated with flesh and lived again, to be hunted the following year. In support of this superstition they had a legend that once upon a time on a great hunt a boy of the tribe was lost. His people gave him up for dead but the succeeding season a huge bison was slain and when the body was opened the boy stepped out alive and well. He related to his dumbfounded companions, how the year before, he had become separated from them as he pursued a splendid bull. He felled his game with an arrow, but so far had he gone that it was too late to overtake and rejoin the tribe before nightfall. Therefore, he cut into the bison's body, removed a portion of the intestines and feeling the keen frost of evening upon his unsheltered body, sought warmth within the carcass. But, lo! when the boy awakened the buffalo was whole again and he was a prisoner within his whilom prey!

The Gros Ventres, in the day of Lewis and Clark, thought that if the head of the slain buffalo were treated well, the living herd would come in plentiful numbers to yield an abundance of meat.

This leads to an interesting superstition of the Indians, which was that any variation in the usual colour of the buffalo was caused by the special interference of the Master of Life, and a beast so distinguished from his kind was venerated religiously, much as the ancient Egyptians worshipped the sacred bull. Once a "grayish-white" bison was seen and upon another occasion a calf with white forefeet and a white frontal mark. An early traveller once saw in an Indian lodge, the head of a buffalo perfectly preserved, which was marked by a white star. The man to whom it belonged treasured it as his medicine, nor would he part with it at any price.

"'The herds come every season,' he said, 'into the vicinity to seek their white-faced companion!'"

There are numerous myths of a white buffalo cow, who at will, assumed the form of a beautiful maiden.

The Sioux in common with the Aricaras and the Minitarees observed the custom of fasting before going to war or upon the hunt. They had a "medicine lodge," where a buffalo robe was spread and a red painted post was planted. Upon the top of the lodge was tied a buffalo calf skin holding various sacred objects. After preliminary rites they tortured themselves, one favorite method being to make a gash under their shoulder blades, run cords through the wounds and drag two large bison heads to a hill about a mile distant from their village, where they danced until they fell fainting with exhaustion.

The Omawhaws believed that the Great Wahconda appeared sometimes in the shape of a bison bull and they, like other tribes, cherished legends of a fabulous age when animals spoke together, did battle and possessed intelligence equal to that of men. The following myth of the bison bull, the ant and the tortoise, related by James, is an interesting example of these fables:

Once upon a time an ant, a tortoise and a buffalo bull formed themselves into a war party and determined to attack the village of an enemy in the vicinity. They decided in council that the tortoise being sluggish and slow of movement, should start in advance and the ant and bull should time their departure so as to overtake him on the way. This plan was adopted and the awkward tortoise floundered forth on his hostile mission alone. In due time the bison bull took the ant upon his back, lest on account of his minuteness he be lost, and together they set out for the enemy's country. At length they came to a treacherous bog where they found the poor tortoise struggling vainly to free himself. This caused the ant and the bull much merriment as they crossed safely to solid ground. But the tortoise, scorning to ask the aid of his brothers in war, replied cheerfully to their taunts and insisted that he would meet them at the hostile village.

The ant and the bison advanced with noise and bravado and the watchful enemy perceiving them, issued from their lodges and wounded both, driving them to headlong, inglorious retreat.

Finally the tortoise with sore travail, reached his destination to find his companions flown, and because he could not flee also, he fell into the hands of the foe--a prisoner. These cruel people decided to put him to death at once. They threatened him with slow roasting in red coals of fire, with boiling and many awful tortures, but the astute tortoise expressed his willingness to suffer any of these penalties. Therefore the enemy consulted together again and held over his head the fate of drowning. Against this he protested with such frenzied vehemence that his captors immediately executed the sentence, and bearing him to a deep part of the river which flowed through their country, flung him in. Thus restored to his native element he plunged to the bottom of the stream, then arose to the surface to see his enemies gaping from the bank in expectation of his agony. He grabbed several of them, dragged them down and killed them, and appeared once more triumphantly displaying their scalps to the bewildered multitude of thwarted warriors who were helpless to avenge their brethren. The tortoise, satisfied with his achievement, returned to his home where he found the ant and the bull prone upon the floor of the lodge, wounded, humbled and fordone.

Finally, the Minitarees and other tribes had a curious legend of their origin. They believed that their forefathers once dwelt in dark, subterranean caverns, beyond a great, swift-running river. Two youths disappeared from amongst them and after a short absence returned to proclaim that they had found a land lighted by an orb which warmed the earth to fecundity, where deep waters shimmered crystal white and countless herds of bison covered grass and flower-decked plains. So the youths led the people up out of the primal darkness into the pleasant valleys where they dwelt evermore. And as the bison were celebrated in this child-like tradition of the Beginning, so likewise, did they figure in the primitive conception of the hereafter. That region of Summer where the good Indian should find repose, was pictured as an ideal country, fair with verdure and rich with herds of buffalo which the good spirits would go seeking through the golden vistas of eternity.

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