CHAPTER XXX
BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN TELLS ABOUT HIS FATHER
When Brings-Down-the-Sun came to our camp the following evening, he took a seat by the fire. For a while he meditated, smoking his everyday pipe in silence, and then he began:
“There is a trail we call ‘The Old North Trail.’ It runs along the Rocky Mountains outside the foothills. It is so old no one knows how long it was used. The horse trail and travois tracks were worn deep into the ground by many generations of Indians.
“My father told me that this old trail was started ages ago by an Indian tribe coming down from the north; and other tribes followed in their tracks. I have followed the Old North Trail so often I know every mountain, stream, and river of its course. It ran from the Barren Lands in the north to the south country, where people have dark skins and long hair over their faces (Mexico).”
BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN AND THE AUTHOR
By this time it was growing dark and the fire burned low. No one spoke until the silence was broken by the mournful howling of a wolf in the near-by hills. Then Brings-Down-the-Sun continued:
“The wolf is our friend and we do him no harm. The Indians have a saying, ‘The gun that shoots a wolf or coyote will never again shoot straight.’
“I never heard of a wolf that did not wander. They raise their young in one place and then move on to another. They like to run all over the country.
“My father’s first name was Running Wolf. His father, Little Mountain, gave him that name, because a wolf appeared in a dream and advised him, saying:
“ ‘I am the head-chief of all the wolves and my name is Running Wolf. You often hear my voice; my tracks are everywhere and I shall always continue to wander. Name one of your sons after me; and if he has a son, let that name be handed down; all of your descendants who bear my name will have long life and good luck.’
“I have now the wolf-nature, because my father bestowed the name of Running Wolf upon me. Like the wolf I wander over the plains and through the mountains; I never like to stay long in one place.
“Now I am going to tell you more about my father—how my grandfather, Little Mountain, happened to honor him with the name of Running Wolf, although he had two older brothers.
“One day in early summer, when my father was only a boy, he saw a band of warriors gather near my grandfather’s lodge; he was then head-chief of the tribe. They were dressed for war and had their horses painted with war signs. They stood in a circle, holding a big rawhide between them, upon which they beat with sticks like a drum and sang a wolf song. They marched singing through the camp, saying farewell to friends and relatives; and then started south on a war expedition.
“Now this was very exciting to my father; his two older brothers were among the warriors. He wanted to go too. But he knew they would not take him because he was too young.
“After the expedition had gone, the boy ran into the lodge and took a bow and arrows. He told his father, the head-chief, he was going for a hunt; but he rode fast and overtook the war party. They tried to send him back. But one of his brothers said:
“ ‘If he is so eager, let him come; he can look after one of the pack horses.’ Thus it happened that my father went with that war party.
“One night, after they crossed the Yellowstone River, the boy was wakened by a noise. He scouted around and saw a band of hostile Indians coming into camp. They were some of the Snakes and he gave the alarm. The Blackfoot warriors made ready to attack, but waited until just before dawn.
“In the fight my father made a wonderful shot and killed a Snake Indian. It was the only scalp they took on that trip. When the warriors came back to the Blackfoot camp, they waited on the summit of a hill, until a big crowd came out to meet them.
“Then they made known to the people how the boy was the only one to kill an enemy. They showed the Snake scalp and the head-chief was proud of his son. He tied that scalp to a long pole and told the boy to hold it aloft, and to shout as they rode triumphantly through the camp: ‘My name is Running Wolf; I am the youngest of the war party and the only one to kill an enemy. Behold! Here is the scalp.’ Thus it happened that my father got the name of Running Wolf.
“When my father was head-chief of the tribe, he went by the name of Iron Shirt, because he was accustomed to wear a shirt which was decorated with shining pieces of metal. He was also head man of the band of Grease Melters. He was a large and muscular man, with fine mind and a wonderful memory. He knew all the legends and lore of his tribe. He could tell the age of a horse by its whinny and of a man by the sound of his voice. He kept ‘winter-counts’ by making pictures on buffalo robes. He recorded important events in the history of the tribe—places of tribal camps, battles and the names of war chiefs, years of smallpox, summers of drought and winters when snows were deep and food scarce. He kept count of the winter when many of our people died from the cough-sickness, the winter when the children broke through the ice, when some moose came into our camp, also the winter when we had to eat dogs to keep from starving, the time a herd of antelope broke through the ice, when we caught some antelope in the deep snow, when buffalo were scarce, and the time we made the first treaty with white men.
“Sixty-one winters have passed since we had our first great sickness of smallpox (1836); forty-two, since we had the big camp on the Yellowstone River (1855), the time eight Indian tribes came together and our head-chiefs were Little Dog, Big Snake, and Lame Bull; twenty-seven winters since the coming of the North-West Mounted Police (1870), and twenty-one since the bad winter, when many of our horses were frozen to death (1876).
“I was born in the spring, the year the first white men appeared in our country. And I was still a young boy when my father became the owner of his first Medicine Pipe. This happened in one of our tribal camps, which was being held in mid-summer. Wolf Child was the owner of a Pipe and chose my father as his successor. He told the medicine pipe men he wanted them to take my father.
“Now it happened that my father was a ‘bear-man’—that is, his power came from the grizzly bear. He had a sacred bearskin inside his lodge, which he kept hanging from the lodge-poles, just over his couch. The word ‘bear’ must never be spoken in the presence of a Medicine Pipe; it has an evil influence. For this reason the medicine pipe men were always afraid to offer a Pipe to my father, with the sacred bearskin so near.
“But Wolf Child, the owner of this Pipe, advised there was no danger from the skin. He said my father had great power; besides it was possible for them to drive away the evil by burning sweet pine as incense.
“Thus Wolf Child persuaded his friends and overcame their fears. It was after midnight, when I heard the medicine pipe men stealthily enter our lodge. Wolf Child came first, with the sacred Pipe hidden under his robe. They caught my father asleep; and, when he woke up, they offered him the Pipe. He took it in both hands and they all began to drum and sing. After that my father smoked the Pipe and said:
“ ‘I am the owner of many horses, which of them do you want?’
“Wolf Child answered: ‘Your black buffalo-horse.’ Now this was the most valued horse in my father’s herds. He was a famous race horse, the fastest in the tribe; he was so high-spirited it took three rawhide bridles to hold him.
“But my father did not hesitate. He answered quickly: ‘Take him, he is yours.’ So Wolf Child got the horse and my father became the owner of a Medicine Pipe. It was an honor to be chosen, although the Pipe was a great burden. But my father could not refuse; no one ever dares to turn down a Medicine Pipe. I know of an Indian who tried it, because he did not want to give up a valuable horse. Misfortune came upon him. His father-in-law died, then the horse; and finally the man died himself. All because he refused to take over a Medicine Pipe when it was offered to him.”
ORIGIN OF HIS FATHER’S THUNDER PIPE
“Once I was camped with my father and grandfather on the St. Mary’s River. We were near the mountains after beaver, which were plentiful then. One day my father went alone on a hunt, following the trail of some elk to Chief Mountain. At timber-line he came upon a band of mountain sheep and trailed them towards the summit. Near the top of the mountain, he came upon bad-smelling smoke coming from a deep hole. Into it he rolled a stone. He waited to hear it fall. But no sound came back; only a cloud of smoke so dense he could hardly breathe. Then he saw a thunder cloud coming down the mountain and started to run. There came a crash and he fell to the ground. A woman stood over him; her face was painted black and she had red zigzag streaks for lightning below her eyes. Behind her stood a man with a huge weapon. My father heard him say:
“ ‘I told you to kill him quickly, but you stand there and pity him.’
“He heard the woman chant: ‘When it rains, the sound of the Thunder is my medicine.’
“Then the man sang and fired his big weapon; it sounded like the crashing of thunder, and my father saw lightning coming from the hole in the mountain. Suddenly he found himself inside a cave; he could not speak, neither could he raise his head. He heard a voice say:
“ ‘This is the person who threw the stone into our fireplace.’
“He heard some one beating a drum; and after the fourth beating, he was able to sit up and look around. He was in the home of the Thunder. He saw the Thunder Chief in the form of a huge bird, with his wife and children around him. They all had drums painted with the claws of the Thunder Bird, and its beak from which came streaks of lightning.
“Whenever the Thunder Chief smoked his Pipe, he blew two whiffs towards the sky, then two to the earth; and after each whiff the thunder crashed. Finally the Thunder Chief said to my father:
“ ‘I am the Thunder Maker and my name is “Many Drums.” You have seen my great power and can now go in safety. As soon as you return to your camp, make a Pipe just like the one you see me smoking. When you hear the first thunder in the spring, you will know I have come from my cave. Then it is time for you to take out your Pipe and hold it up. If you are ever in a bad thunderstorm and feel afraid, pray to me saying:
“ ‘Pity me! Many Drums, for the sake of your youngest child,’ and no harm will come to you.
“Thus it happened that my father became the owner of a Thunder Pipe. When he knew he was going to die, he gave this Pipe into my care. He said it was a ‘long-time-pipe’ and must not be buried with him. I still have the Thunder Pipe and smoke it only on important occasions.
“My father was skilled in the catching of eagles. He taught me how to take eagles alive, and for many years the catching of eagles has helped to support my family. But it was a hard and dangerous calling. I had to go to a solitary place near the foot of the mountains and dig a hole in the ground deep enough for me to stand in. I killed a coyote and stretched the hide on sticks, laying raw meat along the sides, to look as if it were freshly killed. I entered the pit before daylight, in order that no eagle could see; and covered it over with branches and leaves. The coyote bait lay on top, just over my head. I stood in that pit all day without food or drink. I could not even smoke, lest the eagles might get the scent. Throughout the day I chanted the coyote song, ‘I want the eagles to eat my body,’ because it had the power to attract eagles to my bait.
“The Long Tails (magpies) generally came first. They walked around the meat, chattering and saying to each other over and over, ‘Long Tails go ahead and hang your sack upon a tree.’
“After a while an eagle would see the magpies eating the bait and come near. At first he would be suspicious. When he walked upon the blind and started to eat, I thrust both hands through the branches and seized him by the legs. I drew him quickly into the pit and killed him by breaking his neck with my foot, so that the wings fell to both sides and the feathers were not injured.
“Golden eagles were the most profitable to catch; the Indians wanted them because of their white tail feathers with black tips which they used for headdresses and sacred bundles. Bald eagles were scarce and hard to catch. Some of them were so powerful they almost dragged me from the pit.
“In those days eagle-catching was a dangerous occupation, because of grizzly bears. I remember an Indian, who held fast to his bait when a big grizzly started to drag it away. The bear pulled off the branches and saw the man in the pit. He pulled him out and tore him to pieces. When his relatives came, there was nothing left but his bones.
“My father did not die in battle, nor of sickness, but of old age. After his death, I became interested in religious things and came north to live. One night I slept alone on a high hill of the prairies. I had a strong dream. The Sun God came to me and said:
“ ‘My son, be not afraid. I give you my power and will guard you through life.’
“I took an interest in the Sun Dance and became one of its leaders. From that time, I was no longer called Running Wolf. People called me Brings-Down-the-Sun (Natósin-népe-e), because I had the power of the Sun.
“I have nine children living, four sons and five daughters. The names of my sons are, Running Wolf, Iron Shirt, Double Walker, and Three Eagles. The girls are, Long Hair, Turns-Back-the-Herd-Alone, Good Kill, Double-Gun-Woman, and Whistling-All-Night.
“Towards the north lies the highest summit of the Porcupine Hills. No trail leads to it and it is surrounded by a dense forest. The top is steep and is covered with stunted pines. From that direction come our hardest storms. When my oldest son died I went to that lonely summit. I did not want to see any one. I stayed there night and day and fasted. Then I had a dream. The Spirit of the Mountain came to me and gave me a Medicine Robe;1 and with it went supernatural power—power to heal the sick. This wonderful Robe had many skins of birds and wild animals attached. There were marks to represent the Sun and Morning Star, also the constellations of the Bunch Stars and the Seven Persons. I wore it in the ceremony of the Sun Dance, when I stood before the people; and it gave me power to doctor the sick.
“That Spirit of the Mountain warned me to give up using the sweat-lodge, lest more of my children die; and to wash daily in the river. Since that time I have always bathed in the river every morning, even in winter when I have to break the ice. I tell my sons to bathe regularly; and after they finish, the women go in. I believe sickness can be warded off by keeping the body clean and using sweet smoke for incense.”
1 This Medicine Robe of Brings-Down-the-Sun is now in the Blackfoot Collection, American Museum of Natural History, New York City. ↑