by J. T. Edson
‘Then get up.’
Slowly Loncey rose. Not without some misgivings did he feel himself swung up on to the pony’s back once more. However he set his face into a grim, determined mask and took a firm hold.
‘I am ready,’ he said, trying to sound a whole heap bolder than he felt.
‘This time watch what you are doing,’ warned Long Walker. Before the boy had time to think of the fall and become afraid, Long Walker started the pony moving. Being forced to concentrate on staying astride prevented Loncey from worrying about losing his seat and in a short time the old feeling of pleasure returned.
After a short time the boy caught the knack of staying astride. With his background and breeding, riding came almost easier than walking. He quickly learned how to maintain his balance and by the time noon came could stay with the horse at a walk and up to a steady trot. In the afternoon he progressed to sitting the pony while it circled Long Walker at the end of a long rawhide rope.
‘You have done well, tawk,’ said Long Walker as the boy slipped from the pony’s back at his command.
‘Can I ride some more, tawk?’ Loncey piped eagerly, ignoring the ache in his legs and body.
‘Not this day,’ smiled the chief. ‘Your pony is tired, and so am I.’
So, if he cared to admit, was Loncey; more tired than he could ever remember being. For all that, the boy felt happy. Small and young though he might be, Loncey realized that he had taken an important part and major step in his life.
With the possible exception of the buffalo, nothing was more important to the Comanche than the horse. It offered him more than a means of transport and mobility. Alive, the horse carried the Comanche or hauled his property from place to place; allowed him to run down the buffalo and assisted in hunting other animals; bore him to war, enabling him to strike fast and over vast distances, or make good his retreat should that become necessary; was a source of wealth and prestige, a valuable gift and an acceptable item of barter. Nor did the horse’s usefulness end with its death. Its flesh could—and often did—provide a meal when the hunting failed or time prohibited the seeking of game. Shelter, robes, saddles and rawhide thongs were made from its hide, the mane and tail being converted into ropes and bridles. Without the horse, a Comanche became static and useless. Sat astride the ‘god-dog’, he was master of all he surveyed. Unlike some of the horse-Indian tribes, the Comanche held the horse in high esteem and rarely mistreated it. Each man possessed at least one favorite mount which he tended, petted and trained, keeping it picketed close to his tepee at night while the rest of his string—which might run into dozens or scores of animals—grazed among the band’s remuda upon the open range beyond the village. To kill, or attempt to harm, a favorite horse classed as murder. In the event of a legal dispute involving the payment of damages, whatever else might be claimed, the prosecution party almost always asked for the defendant’s favorite horse to be included.
So learning to ride ranked among the Comanche boy’s prime achievements in life and probably the most vital part of his existence.
From that day Loncey would spend much of his waking hours with horses, especially while learning to ride. Guided by Long Walker, Ysabel and War Club—both of whom he called ap’, father—War Club’s brothers and oldest son, he spent hours on the gentle pony. From the men he learned how to care for his pony; when he must not allow it to eat and drink; by what means greater speed could be raised and maintained; the ways to keep the pony silent when it wished to whinny a greeting to others of its own kind and move it noiselessly from place to place. Trained by masters of all matters equestrian, he gained a knowledge of horse-handling second to none. Galloping, swimming, jumping the pony, staying on its back under all conditions and over any kind of country soon held no terrors for him. He learned to fall off without injury and to quit the pony’s back voluntarily, landing safely no matter what its speed. Before he reached his fifth birthday, he felt as much at home on a horse as afoot.
By the time Loncey reached six years of age, he left behind the gentle pony and rode bareback on a young colt. With his long hair, black and shiny as the wing of a raven, and his body clad only in a breechclout, tanned Indian dark by exposure to the elements, he might have been a pure Comanche. Only his face set him apart from the other Pehnane boys. Instead of the brown-eyed, high-cheekboned, broad face of the Comanche, Loncey looked European. There was an air of innocence about his handsome features that the wild red-hazel eyes belied. In build, he stood taller and more slender than his companions. Those were only externals. He spoke Comanche naturally and English haltingly only when in his father’s presence. Underneath his baby-faced innocent appearance beat the heart of a true Pehnane.
In addition to learning to ride, Loncey received other lessons. Before he celebrated his sixth birthday, he knew which roots, berries and plants could be eaten and where to find them. Lighting a fire with either the fire-bow or using a flint and steel formed an important lesson. He learned the value of patience and silence; a valuable lesson which would save his life many times in the future.
Not all the schooling was on practical matters. From Long Walker, Loncey learned the tribal history. At some time in the past, the Pehnane moved away from other bands of the Comanche Nation. Despite their name, which meant the Wasps, Quick Stingers, or Raiders, the Pehnane lived in comparative peace with the Texans and Mexicans whose towns and settlements bordered the eastern fringe of their territory. One reason for their being left in peace probably stemmed from their very able means of defending themselves.
During their separation from the Antelope, Yap, Liver-Eaters, Wanderers and other smaller bands of the Comanche Nation, the Pehnane never forgot to which tribe they belonged. Long Walker smoked the peace pipe with Plenty Kills, war chief of the Kiowa—from which tribe the Pehnane adopted the war lodge idea—but remained, in the best Comanche tradition, the enemy of all other Indians. Even the Kiowa retained the old-style title for the Comanche, saying ‘Tshaoh’, the Enemy People, despite their truce with the Pehnane. The Comanche referred to themselves, no matter to which band they belonged, as the Nemenuh, the People, and spoke the word with a pride of race and achievement.
Although Ysabel spent a fair amount of time away from the camp, Loncey did not feel neglected. All his companions’ fathers went off on raiding, hunting or war trips of varying duration, so he considered it only natural that Ysabel did so too. One way and another, life was too full and interesting for the boy ever to feel lonely.
He became a skilled hand with a lariat early, learning how to send its running noose flickering out to drop on a horse’s neck. While on the march, he helped herd the spare horses as became a useful young member of the band.
Early in his sixth year, Loncey went into another stage of his education. Long Walker presented the boy with his first bow and a few blunt-headed arrows. Once equipped, the boy received every encouragement to practice, In addition he also learned how to make arrows and build a bow, for there might come a time when he needed that knowledge.
Unaware of the political and social changes taking place in Eastern Texas, almost without knowledge of other white men, Loncey spent his early childhood contentedly. While keeping the peace with the white man, Long Walker did not encourage too much contact and apart from hunters, or an occasional visit of state by a company of Texas Rangers, had little to do with them.
In the future Loncey would become involved in the affairs of the Lone Star State, taking an important part in some of them; but during the first six years of his life, he knew nothing of them. His time was fully occupied in learning those things he must know to become a brave-heart warrior of the Comanche Nation.
Chapter Four – Loncey Meets Piamempits
Shortly before his seventh birthday, Loncey performed an act which became the first step in making his name among his people. The Pehnane had been moving towards their pre-winter buffalo hunting ground for almost two weeks, travelling through most of the daylight hours and throwing up a h
asty temporary camp at sundown. At last they had reached the desired area and the various lodge chiefs told their people to halt and settle down.
Having reached the end of their journey, the younger boys found themselves free from the task of horse herding. At such a time, boys and girls of from six to about ten gathered in bands to play. Loncey ran with one of the groups consisting of children from Dog Soldier lodge families. Already his group had built up a reputation for high-spirited behavior and the knowing among the lodge members nodded in satisfaction, saying that Loncey, his foster brother and another of the group, Comes For Food, showed the signs of making true brave-hearts if their present actions be any sign.
On settling down for any length of time, the mixed groups sought out a deep hole in a near-by stream and made it their gathering point. Thinking back to the previous year’s visit to the area, Loncey recalled the ideal spot for their play-camp. One small snag arose as he suggested the location; it lay beyond the Dog Soldier tepee area. Unless the group moved fast, a bunch from the Fox lodge might reach the place first.
‘They have a shorter ride to it,’ Loud Voice warned.
‘Not if we go through the camp,’ replied Loncey and ran to where his pony stood waiting.
Eagerly the rest of the boys collected their mounts, going astride the bare backs like squirrels climbing a pine tree. Kicking his heels against the pony’s ribs, Loncey started it moving. Always willing to join in any kind of fun, the remainder of the boys followed Loncey’s lead. Ten colts and ponies raced away from the horse herd, to tear at speed through a camp busily engaged in setting up homes.
Riders racing through the village had never been so rare a sight as to excite comment. The women grew accustomed to erecting tepees in the face of such distractions. Normally the riders showed sufficient consideration to keep their running horses away from the working women. However on this occasion Loud Voice sat afork a slightly larger, more spirited colt than usual, and lacked the strength to control it properly. So while his companions steered their mounts clear of trouble, he found his heading straight into it.
Following his usual practice, Old Sleeps Long and Deep, skilled bow-maker of the village, stood close by so as to supervise the erection of his main tepee. While his wives secretly objected to what they regarded as an unwarrantable intrusion into their domain, they could do nothing to change the old man’s ways.
Already much of the work had been completed. After fastening the four fourteen foot long cedar poles at the upper end, the women stood them erect, spreading the lower ends outwards evenly as the start of a circle. Against this foundation a further eighteen poles—their butts sunk about two feet deep into the ground for added strength and security, rose up to be tied to the main poles. Using the pyramid of poles as a skeleton, the women hung the carefully cut and fitted buffalo hides into place to form the walls of the dwelling.
All this had been completed and the women worked on the final outside task, that of fastening the buffalo-hide covering at the top. A task calling for some skill and knowledge, fastening the top and arranging the tepee’s smoke hole fell upon the oldest, most experienced wife. Sleeps Long and Deep’s pairaivo, showing remarkable agility for an elderly woman, stood on the shoulders of his other two wives, from that vantage point she had already pinned the covering’s edges together with wooden skewers about the size of a white man’s pencil and fastened the top into position. When Loud Voice made his hurried appearance, the old woman leaned forward to fix the smoke-hole. By folding the upper skins back a short distance, giving the appearance of a jacket’s lapels, then fastening the turned back sections to poles outside the tepee, the hole made could be shielded from the wind and create a draught that sucked the smoke from inside. Leaning forward precariously, the pairaivo could not have picked a more inconvenient position had she tried.
Being astride a fast-running horse, even one almost out of control, held no terrors for a Comanche boy. As he tore along, Loud Voice whooped in delight and showed how he gained his name by the volume of noise he could turn loose. He shot at an angle between the tepees of Sleeps Long and Deep and the tsukup’s next-door neighbor, coming into the tepee builders’ view unexpectedly. Seeing the charging pony headed straight at her, the youngest wife not unnaturally decided to avoid being run down. Unfortunately she forgot that the pairaivo perched insecurely with a foot on her shoulder. With a shriek, the woman flung herself backwards and the pairaivo found herself deprived of one support. Letting out a howl of mingled surprise, fright and anger, the pairaivo lost her balance. Her other foot slipped from the second wife’s shoulder and she fell forward. While sturdily constructed, the tepee lacked its final supports. The pairaivo’s weight, being at the upper part, caused the tepee to collapse.
Never noted for a mild, even temper when things went wrong, Sleeps Long and Deep did not view the incident calmly. Showing some speed on his feet, he nimbly avoided the falling tepee and leg-waving, curse-screaming pairaivo and so came to no actual harm. However he knew that he would not be fed until after the erection of the tepee and, being a man who enjoyed food, did not care for the idea. Letting out a screech of rage, he shook his fist after the whooping, delighted, departing youngsters who regarded the affair as a glorious joke.
‘May Piamempits take you!’ he howled.
None of the youngsters took any notice of the words, being more concerned with reaching the desired play-area before any other band arrived. Watching the departing children, Sleeps Long and Deep snorted angrily. Despite the fact that they tended to act soberly and show a serious outlook when in the presence of strange white men, the Comanche people possessed a well-developed sense of humor and enjoyed their fun the more if it be boisterous and visual. So the mishap at Sleeps Long and Deep’s tepee brought about much mirth among the onlookers.
Followed by laughter, which did nothing to lesson his wrath, Sleeps Long and Deep stalked angrily off in search of War Club; Loncey and Loud Voice being the acknowledged leaders of that particular bunch of youngsters. Although War Club and Ysabel—the latter just returned from a most profitable trading trip to the white settlements—managed to put on a straight, unsmiling face by the time the tsukup reached them, they declined to take any action against the boys. True it did not become very young Comanches to treat a respected tsukup and craftsman in such a manner, but one had to excuse their wildness as part of growing up to make useful warriors.
Nor did Sleeps Long and Deep receive any more comfort on carrying his grievance to other members of the family circle. Loud Voice’s older brother and paternal uncles—the latter classing as his father by Comanche tradition—only laughed. While on a less formal basis than War Club’s brothers, the ara ii took a more definite line in the matter and stated that no punishment would come to the boys. As a sop to Sleeps Long and Deep’s wounded pride, however, the ara presented him with a week’s supply of wapiti meat. That had always been the Comanche way, the ara and his nephew being on an easygoing friendly footing. Any boy could treat his ara’s property as his own and rely on the other’s support and protection should be get into trouble.
In the face of such determined opposition. Sleeps Long and Deep obtained no satisfaction for his injured dignity. The offer of a week’s supply of meat, while tempting and generous, did not lessen his determination to carry the matter further. By the time he had returned to his tepee area, he had decided to take firm action himself lest the boys grew up with no respect for old age, wisdom and dignity. With that thought in mind, he told his wives that he would need certain items which had proved most useful on other occasions when discipline had been required for the children.
Unaware of their impending lesson, the children reached their selected site and gained possession by right of prior occupancy. Swiftly they set about building the miniature village which would form their home during the daylight hours as long as they stayed in the area.
While regarding their activities in the light of play, the children spent much of their time performing t
asks which fitted them for their future life. The girls erected small windbreaks, for shelter, such being woman’s work, and prepared fires ready for the return of the boys from foraging missions. Already Loncey and his companions knew how to locate birds’ nests and collect the eggs. They knew which kind of plants might be eaten safely, the kind of berries they must avoid and could differentiate between edible and poisonous mushrooms.
Nor did they stop at vegetable matter for their food, but hunted with their bows and blunt-headed arrows. Showing that skilled co-ordination between hand and eye which would one day make him famous as a rifle-shot, Loncey excelled in the matter of driving an arrow into and killing the large grasshoppers which leapt and fluttered about. Once killed, the grasshopper could be roasted over a fire and made a much-prized delicacy. Rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels, prairie-dogs, small birds or anything the boys’ arrows could bring down gave bulk to the meals. The boys hunted with grim determination, never relying on the fact that they could obtain a meal in the village if they failed to lessen their attempts. They were encouraged to be self-reliant, taught to fend for themselves and praised when they succeeded. Although the game might sometimes fail, the Pehnane rarely faced prolonged periods of starvation such as the Shoshone and other more northern tribes met. In winter food might be short, but that had to be borne. Even so the foraging boys often had a full belly gained by their own efforts when their parents tightened belts and made medicine to guide them to deer, elk or buffalo.
Not all the time in the play-area was spent in hunting or house-keeping practice. In the late afternoon, after a meal of baked grasshopper, gopher, pinon nuts, pigweed, the inner bark of a birch tree and bulbous roots of the sego lily, the children decided to play ‘Grizzly Bear’.
Going out on to a large, sandy bank of the river, the children built a mound of sand. Loncey and Loud Voice up-ended the youngest member of their band and dragged him around the mound by his heels until they smoothed down the surface. With everything ready Loncey stepped on to the smoothed down area to be the ‘grizzly bear’. Outside the circle Loud Voice formed the others into single file, each child holding the preceding one’s waist.
