CHAPTER XXIX
THE RIVAL MEDICINE MEN
Human nature is the same the world over. Bull Plume, the medicine man, was jealous of Brings-Down-the-Sun because I was in his camp. Bull Plume was of humble descent, ambitious for power and social position. On the other hand, Brings-Down-the-Sun came from a famous line of chiefs—one of the best families in the tribe. The older medicine man was revered by all the people for his noble character and kindness of heart, his wisdom and knowledge of their ceremonies.
On the day of Onesta’s ceremony, I had my first public recognition from Brings-Down-the-Sun. I was outside the Thunder Tepee, where I could watch both dancers and the crowd of spectators. In the midst of the ceremony, Brings-Down-the-Sun left his family and took a seat by my side.
This straightway roused the jealousy of Bull Plume, which he did not try to hide. He was seated next to Onesta and said so that any one could hear:
“White Weasel has not come to visit my camp. He was my friend before he came into this part of the country. Now I know who has turned him against me.”
Next morning Bull Plume came to our camp. He was a fine looking Indian of over six feet, muscular and well-proportioned, with a roman nose and high cheek bones. His voice was strong and resonant and of a quality well suited for leading ceremonies. When he talked he had a nervous habit of tossing his head and throwing back a long lock of hair which fell over his forehead.
On this occasion I knew that Bull Plume had something on his mind. He was morose and ill at ease. We talked for a while, but soon fell into a gloomy silence. Then he said:
“My heart is heavy because you are in the camp of another. You were once my friend, but now you do not come to see me.”
I was loth to offend him and began to make excuses. But he said abruptly:
“I ask you to come to my lodge now. It is not far, on the other side of the river. I have tribal records to show you. Some of them are very old; they are picture records made on buffalo hides, which were handed down from my grandfather. If you come with me to-day, I will allow you to copy these old records.”
I assured him I wanted to see his records, but again made excuses for that day, because our horses were feeding on the hills and there was no way for me to cross the river to his tepee.
Then Bull Plume was angry. He arose and drawing his blanket around him, stalked from our camp. That was the last I ever saw of him. He took down his tepee and left the country.
As soon as Brings-Down-the-Sun heard of the visit of Bull Plume, he came to our camp for the first time. He seated himself by our fire. After smoking awhile in silence, he said slowly and deliberately:
“If you would rather go to the camp of Bull Plume than remain here with me, I will not stand in your way.”
“But I have no idea of going,” I replied. “I would rather stay with you.”
Said Brings-Down-the-Sun: “I would prefer to have you stay here. Ever since the day Onesta brought you to my lodge, I have been preparing myself; now I have many things ready to tell you.”
Again I assured him that I wanted to remain in his camp, saying:
“We made this long journey on purpose to see you; Onesta told me about you. He said you were the wisest of all the medicine men; that you could tell more than all the others. I do not want to go to Bull Plume; I want to learn from you alone.”
Then Brings-Down-the-Sun said with deep feeling:
“For a long time I have borne in silence many things from Bull Plume; but now it is time for me to speak plainly. He told you about the tribal records handed down from his grandfather. He got that information from me. No one knows who his grandfather was. I can remember him as a small boy, barefoot and poor; he walked behind the travois when our tribe moved camp. Not until he became a man did he gather information for the records of which he boasts. He lied to you, but you were not deceived.”
For a moment Brings-Down-the-Sun was silent. Then he turned and said earnestly:
“I can read a man’s character in his eyes and by the look I see in his face. I now take you for my son. From this time forth, I shall be your Indian father in the north; and the people of my tribe shall be your brothers and sisters. Now I give myself up to you; and will tell you anything you want to know. Your relatives who live far away towards the rising sun, I take as my friends; my heart feels warm towards them; I shake hands with all of them.”
Then he pointed reverently towards the sun, which was setting over the mountains, and said:
“Behold! Our Father, the Sun. He looks down upon us here together and hears everything we say. I am going to tell you many stories and legends, about our religious ceremonies and ancient customs before the white men came. Before the Sun, I promise to tell you nothing but the truth.”
After that, the old chief came regularly to our camp. He had a fine mind and a wonderful memory. He talked day after day and filled my notebooks with information and stories—the way they had been handed down from father to son through many generations of ancestors.