IX
THE BROTHER OF GODS
Rain-in-the-face had no very definite idea of where he should go. Themain and pressing need was to put a certain distance between himselfand his pursuers as rapidly as possible.
To this end, he pushed diligently north-west in a bee line. At firsthe covered his trail skilfully, so that Custer's men would have toguess his direction of flight as any one of the three hundred and sixtydegrees of the complete circle. After a little, this was unnecessary.It became desirable to fall in with a camp of the Sioux, in order thathe might be directed to his own tribe of that people, the Uncpapa.
But as day followed day, Rain-in-the-Face owned himself puzzled. Inthe space of time that had elapsed since his escape, he should haveencountered a dozen bands, for he was intimately acquainted with thecountry and with the Indian habit of life. The village sites weredeserted, the plains were empty. The Indian did not know of the twoexpeditions, commanded respectively by Crook and Terry, which, the onefrom the south and the other from the north, were converging at the BigHorn; nor that in that district nearly every plains Indian hadencamped, either openly allied with Sitting Bull, or near enough tobecome so should such a move seem expedient.
So for a week he subsisted alone as only an Indian can.
Let loose a tired pony at night on the plains, and in the morning hewill turn up well fed and full of vigor. It is the same with a savage.He knows expedients for getting food, for preparing it, for combatingthirst, for sleeping in bad weather with some degree of comfort, whicha white man never acquires without a long and hazardous apprenticeship.It is a case of the survival of the fittest; and the Indian alwayssurvives.
Toward the end of the week, Rain-in-the-Face drew near the low hills ofthe Cheyenne River, in good condition, except that his moccasins werenearly worn out. Then he became aware of a camp. As beseemed a goodwarrior, he scouted carefully until he had satisfied himself that thelodges were those of people of his own nation. Then he allowed himselfto be captured by the herd boys and escorted to Lone Wolf, the chief ofthe band.
Lone Wolf had been easily persuaded by Lafond that it was not goodpolicy to join Sitting Bull. The tribe was well fed and rich. Itcould gain nothing by such a war, and could lose much. Now was thetime to prepare against the coming winter; now, in the early summer,when the energy of the band was at its flood. War it had enjoyed butrecently with the Pawnees; so the hearts of the young men were big withvalor. Let them equally enjoy the chase, the other branch of a brave'seducation.
These, and a hundred like reasons, Lafond had urged so plausibly thatthe chief had come, without difficulty, to his way of thinking. Afterall, why not at least await the plum season, and the great gathering ofprairie chickens which was invariably consequent on the ripening of thefruit? With that plan in view, the warrior had moved his band and allits household goods to the banks of the Cheyenne, where he settled downpeaceably to a season of plenty. There Rain-in-the-Face found him.
The camp had been pitched, after the usual rambling manner, in a broadgrass park of sandy subsoil, below hills on which wandered the poniesin times of safety, or lurked the sentinels in time of danger. Abovethe lodges, like blazoned arms, were suspended the spears and shieldsof the warriors, and before the open flap of each the owner could beseen sprawled in dignified idleness among his favorite squaws.Children sat grave and silent near at hand, or whirled in mimic andnoisy warfare farther out over the prairie. Dogs skulked here andthere. Kettles above shallow fire holes bubbled and steamed. Aboutover the ground was strewn the indescribable litter of a long-usedcamp. Through the early summer air rose shrill laughter, the sounds ofgood-natured chaff, the yelp of dogs and the hum of lower conversation;for, no matter how shy or stoical an Indian may seem before strangers,he is sociable enough among his own people. Near the centre of thevillage stood the lodge of Lone Wolf. At his hand sat Michail Lafond.
The half-breed had in the past two years reverted almost to the type ofhis more savage parent. His hair was long and worn loose, after theSioux fashion. The upper part of his body was naked. About his neckhung a string of bears' claws. Paint streaked his countenance. Whitebuckskin leggings, ornamented with beads, covered his legs. Only theshifty character of his eye and a certain finer modelling of the boldlines of his face differentiated him from the full-blooded Sioux at hisside. The two were conversing in the Sioux language.
To them the boys brought their stranger. From various directionssquaws and children sidled nearer for a look. The warriors, disdainingsuch an exhibition of womanish curiosity, remained placidly smoking inthe sunshine. Near at hand the sounds of laughter and of conversationdied, and the solemnity of ceremony fell.
As he approached, the stranger raised his right hand, palm forward, intoken of peace, and then drew the edge of the same hand across histhroat from left to right. This latter is the "sign" of the Sioux, andthus Lone Wolf was made aware that he received one of his own nation.Lone Wolf inclined slightly, and raised his hand with the peacegesture. The three then sat and the inevitable pipe was produced.
Thus Rain-in-the-Face was received with all ceremony. Later, the firstdip into the kettle of boiling meat was conceded him, and in thatmanner he was made free of Lone Wolf's lodge. No question was asked asto his identity, and he vouchsafed no information; that would comelater, when the warriors gathered for a formal powwow.
And in the meantime, Michail Lafond's roving French eyes took in everydetail of the stranger's appearance, and his keen French mind drew itsown conclusions. Near the close of the afternoon, he left his seat andaddressed the stranger.
"My brother knows ponies," said he. "Will he look upon one of mine?"
It was equivalent to an invitation to call. The savage arose andstalked by the half-breed's side in the direction of Lafond's finelodge of whitened skins. As they approached, two young squaws glidedaway. Lafond spoke a word to one of them, and a moment later the boysof the camp raced eagerly in the direction of the band of ponies on thehill.
THAT BABY CRY, "MAMA!"]
The lodge of Michail Lafond stood just beyond the village proper and ona slight elevation. The entire camp lay spread out before it, apanorama to be seized by a single sweep of the eye.
The savage paused for a moment before entering the doorway, and lookedabout him with a little envy. Never had he visited a band so wellsupplied with ponies, so efficiently armed, so wealthy in robes andlodges and kettles and all the other articles of Indian wealth which goto make up prosperity. Lafond watched him closely. The Indian turnedinside the doorway, and sat down on a heavily furred buffalo skin nearthe entrance. In the background wallowed a dim confusion of skins,robes, and utensils. Lafond placed himself beside his guest and thepipe was lighted.
The stir following the stranger's arrival had lulled. The women andchildren, having satisfied their curiosity as to his personalappearance, returned to their wonted occupations, so that once againthe mingled noises of the camp rose from the little valley.
In a moment the young squaw led up a pony. The animal was fine abovethe average. Its limbs were deer-like in delicacy, its nostrils werewide, its neck slender and tapering--quite in contrast to the ordinaryIndian pony's clumsiness in this respect--and, above all, it was markedblack and white in the _pinto_ fashion. This last is considered toindicate superior spirit and is much prized. The woman had twistedpieces of bright-colored cloth and eagle feathers into the mane andtail.
At the sight of so beautiful an animal, the stranger exclaimed indelight.
"It pleases my brother?" inquired Lafond politely. "It is his."
The squaw led the beast forward, touching the young warrior's hand withthe end of the halter in token of proprietorship. Lafond rose andclosed the tent flap. The noises of the camp were at once muffled, andtwilight fell.
"My brother is a great warrior," he began after a moment, "yet he hasneed of ponies, for he comes on foot and his moccasins are worn."
The stranger, impassiv
e but watchful, made no answer.
"My brother has come far?" went on Lafond cunningly.
"Far," repeated the youth politely.
"His eyes have seen the waters of the Great River?"
The savage bowed.
"Perhaps his pony was lost there?"
"It may be."
"The sight of the white man frightened him and he was drowned?"
The Indian's eyes flashed.
"It may be so."
"On his back my brother bears great scars," said Lafond suddenly aftera short pause; "but they are the scars of a brave man. He bears otherscars on his face; they are the scars of shame."
He ceased abruptly at the stranger's fierce ejaculation. The Indianseemed about to spring on him.
"But," the half-breed went on in haste, "my brother will destroy theshame, and the scars will go." He leaned forward and touched thesavage lightly on his bare shoulder. "They are the scars from thewhite man's prison," he said.
For a moment the stranger's face was a study in livid hate. Then allexpression died from it, leaving it stolid as before.
The half-breed smoked in silence. His surmises had been correct. Thiswas indeed the young hero of the sun dance, the news of whoseimprisonment had, by chance, come to his ears but a short time before.He considered. Finally, he turned to his guest once more.
"My brother has travelled many miles," he said. "Tell me, has he seenthe lodges of his people?"
"The prairies have been waste."
"I will tell you why. The great white war chief has gone with hisyoung men beyond Pah-sap-pah. There the warriors will strike him anddestroy him. My brother's people are there."
The hate came back into the Indian's face with a flash. He fingeredthe haft of a knife that lay near his hand.
"I will join my people," he said.
"And aid them. It is well. But will my brother go alone and withoutarms?"
"What would you?" replied the Indian bitterly. "Am I a chief that Ishould go attended? Do arrows and rifles grow on the prairies?"
The half-breed craftily permitted another impressive but momentarysilence to fall.
"But if my brother were to ride with a hundred fighting men; on his ownpony; with a rifle in his hand--would not that be more in accord withhis dignity as a brave warrior?" he suggested suddenly.
"Where are a hundred such?"
Lafond arose and pulled aside the flap of the tent. The camp lay inthe half glow as a flat picture, and its noise burst in through theopen doorway like a blare of music. The Indian's expressive eyesflashed comprehension.
"And if they go?" he asked.
"I, too, have enemies," replied Lafond.
Rain-in-the-Face smoked meditatively. If this man held the power tosway thus the policy of the camp, why did he not use it to crush theenemies of whom he had spoken? What added force could a young, unarmedstranger bring him that would compensate for the trouble and expense towhich he was putting himself?
Lafond saw the hesitation and dreaded aright.
"My enemies dwell in Pah-sap-pah," said he simply.
In that sentence he exposed the weakness of his position. Pah-sap-pahwas sacred, so sacred that for many years miners fled to it as to asanctuary, certain that once within its dark border pursuit wouldcease. Hunts in it were undertaken only at certain times of the year,and under peculiar auspices. War died into peace when it dashedagainst those sombre cliffs. The winds in the trees were voices ofSoulless Ones, bewailing always their fate; the frown of sun-redHarney--or the peak afterward known under that name--was instinct withthe brooding wrath of some great manitou, who slept lightly only whenhis children disturbed him not. Even the powerful influence of MichailLafond had failed to induce Lone Wolf to enter the Black Hills on anerrand of murder.
But the name of Rain-in-the-Face was one to conjure with in just suchmatters as these. He was not only a brave man and a great warrior, buthe was favored of the gods. In the belief of the Sioux nation, hiswonderful endurance in the sun dance was at once evidence and warrantyof it. Without divine favor he could not have endured so long;enduring so long had brought to him great abundance of divine favor.So, without actually professing to be a medicine man, he had freelyaccorded to him all the confidence a member of the priestcraft usuallyenjoys. If Lafond could induce Rain-in-the-Face to lead, the warriorsof the band would follow blindly, even into Pah-sap-pah itself.
The Indian started as he caught the import of Lafond's words.
"My brother has looked upon the face of the angry Manitou," went onLafond eagerly; "and he has not been afraid. He has danced the danceof death, and the great Manitou has stretched out his hand and held himup. My brother is favored of the Great Spirit, and he is not afraid."
"It is Pah-sap-pah," replied the Indian sombrely.
"Yes, it is Pah-sap-pah, and Pah-sap-pah is sacred. In Pah-sap-pah aretwo men, and they go here and there breaking her rocks, cutting hertrees, defiling her streams. They profane the spirits. On the cloudsof the mountain Gitche Manitou frowns because his children permit it.'Why comes not one to take these away?' he says. 'My children haveforgotten me.'"
"Gitche Manitou is great," said Rain-in-the-Face thoughtfully. "Whydoes he not destroy his enemies?"
"Gitche Manitou destroys through his chosen. Destroy thou, and it willbe Gitche Manitou who destroys through thy hand."
The wily half-breed had caught this doctrine of the Jesuit in his oldnorth country home, and his crafty use of it impressed its forcestrongly on the savage's mind. Lafond proceeded--
"And who more fitted than Rain-in-the-Face?"
The Indian glanced at him with new respect at this knowledge of hisname.
"For he stands near to the Great Spirit, and the warriors will followhim."
The half-breed paused, pretending to consider the difficulties.
"The men are but two and there is a woman. There are here a hundredwarriors, and each warrior has a gun and much powder. When the profaneones have been destroyed, then Rain-in-the-Face will turn northward andenter the camp of Sitting Bull at the head of many fighting men. Itlittle beseems so great a warrior of the Uncpapas to go begging a riflefrom the Tetons!"
The mind of Rain-in-the-Face, thus relieved of some degree of itssuperstitious fear, lay fully open to this last appeal to his pride.He picked up the pipe and puffed stolidly on it twice.
"The enemies of my brother shall die," said he.
Before the formal conference of that evening, Michail Lafond hadarranged to carry out his side of the bargain. He had done this verysimply. After the conversation in the lodge he had gone to Lone Wolf.
"The stranger is Rain-in-the-Face, of the Uncpapas," said he. "He ispleased with our warriors and he wishes to lead them against the greatwhite war chief near the Big Horn. There are also strangers inPah-sap-pah whom it is the will of Gitche Manitou that Rain-in-the-Faceshould destroy, and he desires your help."
Lone Wolf was delighted. That so famous a warrior should choose hisband was honor enough to repay any effort.
In all this transaction, the offices of Michail Lafond could easilyhave been dispensed with. If Lone Wolf had gone to Rain-in-the-Faceand said, "Behold, here are my young men. Lead them," the latter wouldhave accepted the tender with joy. If, on the other hand, the strangerhad merely announced his identity to Lone Wolf, that chieftain wouldgladly have furnished him with everything he needed. But each was inthe dark as to one fact, of which Lafond had knowledge.Rain-in-the-Face did not suspect how his imprisonment had increased hisimportance, nor did he know that the deep content which brooded overLone Wolf's camp was only apparent, and had been carefully fostered byLafond. Nor did Lone Wolf recognize Rain-in-the-Face, nor realize howanxious the youth was for an escort to uphold his pride. It was byseeing little things of this sort, and acting upon them, that thehalf-breed had gained so much influence.
Four days later, Lone Wolf's camp swept northwestward toward the BigHorn Mountain. On the 25th of June,
Rain-in-the-Face confrontedGeneral Custer, on a knoll near the river of the Little Big Horn. Agreat battle was all but over, and the few remaining troopers, theirlast cartridges gone, were fighting desperately with sabres.
The savage shot the white man through the heart.
The Westerners Page 9
