CHAPTER XXV
CAMP OF THE BLOOD INDIANS
After fording the St. Mary’s River, we crossed the international line into the Province of Alberta, a country of rolling prairies with black soil and luxuriant grass, stretching away in gentle slopes to the horizon.
We saw many “fairy rings,” both large and small, made by a species of fungus. Onesta believed they were overgrown trails made years before by buffalo going in circles. But Little Creek who was more practical said they were the remains of old buffalo wallows. They are identical with the mushroom growths common in the fields of our Eastern States, where they are popularly known as “fairy rings” or “fairy dances.”
On the journey, our Indian women were always on the lookout for herbs and plants. They gathered them wherever we went and dried them in the sun or by the camp-fire at night. Some were used for seasoning meats and stews, others for hair tonic, sore throat and pain in the stomach.
We made a special collection for the medicine man, Brings-Down-the-Sun, whom we were going to visit—certain herbs he was known to use in doctoring the sick. The women also kept adding to my botanical collection,1 showing me rare plants and telling their Indian names and uses. We made a collection of the perfumes they used—braids of sweet grass, dried blossoms of dog fennel and meadow rue, balsam fir, red cedar, punk from the cottonwood tree, buds from the balsam poplar, beaver musk and ringbone of a horse.
At last we saw the white lodges of the Bloods in the valley of Belly River. I rode in advance of our party and was the first to enter their camp. It was a hot day, and many of the lodges had their doors open and the sides raised for ventilation. Soon a horseman came to meet me. He wore a headdress of curving horns and a deerskin suit covered with colored beads and ermine tails. He addressed me in the sign language, raising his right hand and moving it to and fro to say: “Who are you and from whence do you come?”
I signed back: “A friend, I travel with a party of South Piegans.” To express this, I clasped my hands as though shaking hands; then pointed to the rest of my party and made the sign for Piegan by closing my right hand, holding it to the lower part of my right cheek and moving it in a small circle.
The Blood grunted and nodded that he understood, looking at me all the while with the steady gaze and keen observation of an Indian. He took in every detail of myself and my horse. Meanwhile the rest of our party came up. After a short parley with the Blood, he led us through the camp to the lodge of One Spot and his wife Snake Woman, who were relatives of Little Creek.
They were hospitable and invited us to share their tepee. But we made camp on the shore of the river, in a place sheltered from the wind by groves of poplars and cottonwood trees. Before we had time to unpack our wagons, some Blood women came with presents of food, according to the Indian custom of showing hospitality to visitors. The wife of One Spot brought dried meat and service berries—the first of the season for our Indians. So they made an offering to the Sun, before eating any of the berries. They all waited while Onesta held a berry toward the Sun with a prayer for plenty; then planted it in the ground, with another prayer to the Underground Spirits. Then the women of our party carried a supply of tobacco and food to the Blood camp, in return for their gifts.
Just before dark, a band of Cree Indians arrived from the north and went into camp near us on the bank of the river. Soon they had their shelters ready for the night and camp-fires burning. In the meadows many horses were feeding, watched by young herders who galloped back and forth, driving them in bands to drink at the river and making ready for the night. The evening quiet of the prairies was broken by the barking of many dogs, neighing of horses, and songs of the herders. I heard the mournful wailing of an aged woman who stood alone on a hill near our camp. The Cree Indians brought her the sad news that her only son had died while on a visit to a distant camp of the North Blackfoot.
That night was sultry and warm. Lying in my blanket-bed on the ground, I watched the heavy clouds rolling up in the north and west in lofty thunderheads, giving forth brilliant flashes of silver lightning over the entire sky and deep rumbling peals of thunder. But not a drop of rain fell.
Sometime in the night I was wakened by groans, which came at regular intervals from a thicket near my bed. I straightway thought of my saddle horse, Kutenai, being strangled by his picket rope. Black clouds covered the sky and the darkness was intense. But I could not lie and hear those terrible groans. On hands and knees, I groped my way. When I came near the edge of the thicket, the groaning ceased. I threw sticks and stones, but nothing moved; there was not a sound. Careful not to lose my direction in the dark, I crawled back to bed. No sooner was I comfortably settled in my blankets, than the groaning began again. After that I gave up the mystery. And I never did find out whether the sufferer was a person or some animal.
Next morning we went to the lodge of One Spot. The day was warm with brilliant sunlight, and the sides of the lodge were raised from the ground to allow the breeze to sweep through. First we smoked a pipe together; and then One Spot told me the following story:
RED HEAD
“A girl once lived in one of our camps who had three brothers. They went to war against the Crow Indians and were all killed by a chief named Red Head.
“In the same camp with the girl was a good-looking young man; he was her lover and wanted to marry her. One day he said to his sweetheart: ‘Let us stay together.’ And she answered:
“ ‘I promise to live with you if you kill Red Head, the Crow chief.’
“Then the young man mourned, for he knew that Red Head was a warrior of great power. He went off alone and fasted. He prayed to the animals and birds and was pitied by wolverines. They gave him their supernatural power with a sharp elk bone, which the young man carried hidden in his clothes as a weapon.
“After that he went into the country of the Crow Indians and looked everywhere for the lodge of Red Head.
“Now it happened that Red Head always camped alone; he pitched his lodge far away from other people. He lived with his aged mother; they had no other relatives. But he kept a flock of pet crows, which sat on top of the lodge-poles and watched for enemies. For this reason Red Head could not be killed. His crows warned him of all danger.
“One day when the Crow chief was away on a hunt and his old mother was alone in the lodge, a good-looking young woman came to her and said: ‘Mother, I want to marry your son.’
“ ‘My son will not marry,’ replied the old woman; ‘his pets always warn him. But I promise to help you. I am getting so old he ought to have a wife.’ And she kept the young woman in the lodge.
“That evening, when Red Head came home from the hunt, his pet crows flew to meet him, and kept saying:
“ ‘Master, look out! Here is a woman with a man’s eyes and a man’s legs. Kill him.’
“Then his mother went to meet him and said: ‘Listen, my son! There is a girl here; she has come to marry you. You need a wife, because I am old and get tired.’
“Red Head went into the lodge and saw that the stranger was young and good-looking. He seated himself and the girl came to him; she put her arms round his neck and kissed him; she gave him presents of dried meat and moccasins, and said:
“ ‘They treated me badly in the Blackfoot camp, so I ran away. I want to marry you; I will work and take good care of your tepee.’ And all this time the pet crows sat overhead on the lodge-poles. They warned Red Head over and over, saying:
“ ‘Look out, master! She is cheating you. She has a man’s eyes and a man’s legs.’
“But Red Head wanted the woman. He paid no attention to the warnings of his pets. He liked to have her near and made her sit beside him. He ate the dried meat she gave him and wore her moccasins. At last the pet crows got tired sitting on the lodge-poles. They flew away to watch for other enemies.
“Then Red Head wanted the woman to go with him into the forest. They sat under a tree and the chief put his head in her lap. She took the sharp weapon, which she carried hidden in her clothes, and drove it into his ear. She hammered it with a stone and killed him; she took his scalp and went away.
“Then that young warrior came back to the Blackfoot camp. He told his sweetheart how he killed Red Head and showed her the scalp. He married the girl and became one of the head men of the tribe.”
1 Medicinal and Useful Plants of the Blackfoot Indians. See Appendix. ↑