Chapter 4 No.4

Puht-o-muk-si-kim-iks (The Lakes Inside): St. Mary's Lakes

August 10.

WE left Little River on the 5th, crossed the big ridge dividing the Arctic and the Atlantic waters, and made camp here on the big prairie at the foot of the Upper St. Mary's Lake.

In the old days this great valley, hemmed in by gigantic mountains, was my favorite hunting ground after the buffalo were exterminated and there was no more sport to be had upon the plains.

CAMP NEAR LOWER END OF UPPER ST. MARY'S LAKE

Hugh Monroe, or Rising Wolf, was, of course, the first white man to see these most beautiful of all our Northern Rockies lakes; with the Piegan Blackfeet he camped at them in 1816, and long afterward, with his growing family of hardy sons and daughters, this became his favorite hunting and trapping ground. When, in the 1830's, that valiant and much beloved missionary, Father De Smet, S.J., was visiting the various tribes of this Northwest country, Monroe was engaged to take him to a conference with the North Blackfeet, then camping on the Saskatchewan River. En route they camped at the foot of the lower of these lakes, and there erected a large wooden cross, and named the two sheets of water, St. Mary's Lakes. Later on, the Stevens expedition named them Chief Mountain Lakes, but that name did not last. Monroe and his brother trappers were all Catholics, and they continued to use the name that the great priest had given them, and on the maps they are St. Mary's Lakes to-day.

During my long friendship with him, Monroe told me many stories of his adventures here in early days. This was his favorite mountain resort on account of the great numbers of moose that inhabited the heavily timbered valley and mountain slopes, and of the great variety and numbers of fur animals that were found here. The valley swarmed with elk and deer; there were countless flocks of bighorn and goats on the mountains, and herds of buffalo everywhere along the lower lake, and below it; but Monroe liked best of all the flesh of moose, and killed large numbers of them every season that he camped here.

His method of catching wolves was simple and unique. He would build an oblong, pyramidal log pen about eight by sixteen feet at the base, and eight feet in height, the last layer of logs being placed about eighteen inches apart. Easily climbing the slope of this, the wolves would jump down through the narrow aperture at the top to feed upon the quantities of meat that had been placed inside to decoy them, but they could not jump out. Often, of a morning, the trapper and his sons would find ten or more big wolves imprisoned in the trap, and, powder and ball being very costly, they would kill them with bow and arrows, skin them, and drag the carcasses to the river and cast them into it, then take the hides home and peg them on the ground to dry. In this manner they would often, in the spring, have several hundred wolf pelts to pack in to Fort Benton for sale, and prime pelts sold at five dollars each, in trade. Their catch of beaver, otter, mink, martin, and fisher was also large.

Monroe always camped at the foot of the lower lake, near the outlet, and was there more than once attacked by roving war parties of Assiniboines, Crows, and even the Yanktonais. The horses were kept at night in a strong corral just back of the lodge, and in the daytime were watched by some member of the family while they grazed on the rich prairie grasses. All the family-John and Fran?ois, the sons, Millie and Lizzie, the daughters-and even the mother had guns, flintlocks, and a good supply of powder and ball. Early one morning a large war party was discovered approaching the camp, sneaking from bush to bush, some crawling on all fours through the high grass. Lizzie opened fire upon them and killed her man, and then the fire became general on both sides. But the Monroes, in their trenches surrounding the lodge, had the best of it from the start, and eventually made the enemy retreat with a loss of five of their number. Late the following night the Assiniboines crept in to make another attack, but the Monroes were expecting them, waiting for them, and in the bright moonlight could take fairly accurate aim. They again drove them off, with a loss of two more of their number, and that time they kept going. Nothing more was seen of them. But for some days the Monroes did not venture far from their camp.

I first saw the St. Mary's Lakes in October, 1882, in company with Charles Phemmister, James Rutherford, Charles Carter, and Oliver Sanderville, all old plainsmen, good company, and best of hunters. We outfitted for the trip at the Old Agency, on Badger Creek, Blackfeet Reservation, and started northward. There was no trail after leaving the crossing of Little or Milk River, and we struck up country toward the big gap in the mountains, in which we knew the lakes must lie, and that evening camped on the shore of a large prairie lake that was black with ducks. I shot a dozen or more of them as they flew over a long point, and to my surprise and delight found that they were all canvasbacks and redheads, and very fat from feeding upon the wild celery beds of the lake. I named the sheet of water Duck Lake.

The next day we made a trail down the long hill, and camped at the foot of the lower lake, close to the outlet. Then began two weeks of most glorious sport. We shot elk, deer, and several grizzlies in the valley, and bighorn on a mountain that I named Flat Top, and combed that mountain from one end to another and on all sides for an animal known to us as the Rocky Mountain ibex. We had seen several skins of them, bought from the Stony Indians by Captain John Healy, of Fort Whoopup and Fort Benton fame, but none of us nor any man of our acquaintance-and we knew every trapper and trader in the country-had ever seen one of the animals alive. Of course we found none, as this sub-Arctic animal, which we later learned is a true antelope, and not an ibex or goat, seldom leaves the high cliff mountains for the outer and lower ones of the range. When, later, we did find them, we in our ignorance named them Rocky Mountain goats, and that is the common name for them to-day, despite the fact that they are antelopes.

On this first visit to the St. Mary's Lakes country I was so impressed by the grandeur of its mountains, the beauty of its many lakes, and its plenitude of game, that thereafter for many years it was, more than anywhere else, my home. In 1883 I brought out to the lakes a good boat that I had had built for me at Fort Conrad, and with it learned that both lakes were alive with whitefish and Mackinaw, Dolly Varden, and cutthroat trout. During the summer of this year I named Red Eagle Mountain and Red Eagle Lake, after my uncle-in-law, Red Eagle, owner of the Thunder medicine pipe, and one of the most high-minded, gentle-hearted Indians that I ever knew. In the autumn of this year Dr. George Bird Grinnell joined me, and we hunted around the lower lake, and went up Swift Current far enough to see what we thought would possibly prove to be a glacier. We had not then time to learn if our surmise was correct. During our hunt Dr. Grinnell killed a large ram at long range, offhand, with one shot from his old Sharp's rifle, on the mountain next above Flat Top, and I therefore named it Single-Shot Mountain.

AT THE NARROWS. UPPER ST. MARY'S LAKE

In the summer of this year I also named Divide Mountain, because it is the outermost mountain on the Atlantic-Arctic watershed. At the same time I named Kootenai Mountain, also for a very good reason. Some members of that tribe were encamped beside me at the foot of the upper lake. I noticed often that they would ride out of camp at daylight and return at noon or a little later with all the bighorn or goat meat that their horses could carry, and finally I asked them where they went to make their killings so quickly.

"Come with me to-morrow and I will show you something," one of them answered. And the next morning I rode with him up Red Eagle Valley and part way up a mountain, where we tied our horses and went on afoot for a couple of hundred yards. Then, looking down into a coulée, we saw a dozen or more bighorn in the bottom of it and killed four of them. They had been eating salty clay and drinking from a salt spring that oozes from the ground there, so I named the place Kootenai Lick, and also gave the mountain the name Kootenai. Thereafter I knew where to go for bighorn when I wanted one.

In 1884 I named Almost-a-Dog Mountain, after one of the few survivors of the Baker massacre, which took place on the Marias River, January 1, 1870. At that time Colonel E. M. Baker, with a couple of companies of cavalry from Fort Shaw, Montana, was trying to find the camp of Owl Child, a Piegan Blackfoot, and murderer of a settler named Malcolm Clark, and arrest him. By mistake he struck the camp of Heavy Runner and his band of friendly Indians, and, although the chief came running toward him waving his letters of recommendation and his Washington medals, Baker ordered his men to begin firing, and a terrible massacre ensued, the Indians firing not one shot in defense, as about all the able-bodied men were at the time on a buffalo hunt. When the firing was over, two hundred and seventeen old men and women and children lay dead and dying in their lodges and in the camp. The soldiers then shot the wounded, collected the lodges and property of the Indians in great piles, and set fire to them and departed.[9]

[9] The above is an extract from an affidavit by the late Joseph Kipp, who was Baker's scout and guide at the time. Back

In the autumn of 1885 Dr. Grinnell, J. B. Monroe, and I made a trip up Swift Current River, and discovered and roughly measured the big glacier at the head of its middle fork, Dr. Grinnell killing a big ram on the ice while we were traversing it and avoiding its deep crevasses. That evening Monroe and I named the glacier in honor of Dr. Grinnell, and also named the mountain to the north of it after him. On the following day we were joined by Lieutenant-now Major-J. H. Beacom, Third Infantry, and he gave my Indian name, Apikuni, to the high mountain between Swift Current and the South Fork of Kennedy Creek. Upon our return to Upper St. Mary's Lake, Dr. Grinnell named Little Chief Mountain, Monroe gave Citadel Mountain its name, and I named Yellow Fish, Goat, Going-to-the-Sun, and Four Bears Mountains. Yellow Fish (O-to-ko′-mi) was an Indian who often hunted with us, and Four Bears (Nis-su′-kyai-yo) was the Blackfeet camp crier, and a most amusing man.

It was in 1886, I believe, that we three, and my old-time friend, William Jackson, one-time scout for General Custer and General Miles, cut a trail to the head of the St. Mary's Valley and discovered the great sheet of ice which we named the Blackfeet Glacier. We at the same time named Gun-Sight Pass, and named the peak just west of the glacier, Mount Jackson. It should be Sik-si-kai′-kwan (Blackfeet Man), Jackson's Indian name. He was a grandson of Hugh Monroe, a real plainsman, and one of the bravest men I ever knew.

GOING-TO-THE-SUN MOUNTAIN

Going-to-the-Sun has been climbed this day, and a flag has been planted upon its summit, by Paul E. Walker, Esq., of Topeka, Kansas. Owing to a high cliff upon its upper shoulder, the mountain has always been considered unclimbable. But after long search, and with no little risk, Mr. Walker finally worked out a way up the wall, and out upon the extreme crest, and was undoubtedly the first man, white or red, ever to stand there. He reports that a magnificent view of the mountains and plains is to be had from the great height.

August 12.

We have more real meat in camp. Yesterday Black Bull went up under the north point of Flat Top Mountain, which is on the Indian Reservation, and killed two fat young rams. I went fishing, and in the first pool of the river below the upper lake, caught several two- and three-pound cutthroat trout. We had a great feast in the evening-roast bighorn ribs, broiled trout, a quantity of blueberries, and so on.

After the feast was over came story-telling time, and we heard this man's and that man's experiences in hunting in this vicinity in other days, Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill relating a hard experience that befell him when once wintering here with me. He was chasing a wounded elk on the slope of Single-Shot Mountain, and stepped upon a sharp, snow-covered knot that pierced his foot through and through, and kept him laid up for two months. Yellow Wolf then related an old-time tale, which incidentally gave the reason for naming these two sheets of water the Inside Lakes. He called it, he said,-

"THE STORY OF THE FIRST HORSES

"In that long-ago time when the people had only their great, wolf-like dogs for carrying their belongings, there were two very poor orphans, a brother and sister, in the camp. The boy was very deaf, and because he seemed not to understand what was shouted at him, he was believed to be crazy, and not even the relatives of his dead father and mother cared to have him in their lodges. One would keep him for a time and tell him to go, and then another relative would take him in for a short time, and, getting tired of him, send him on to another lodge. And wherever he went, his beautiful young sister went with him. Often, in good weather, when camp was moved, the two would stay at the old camp-ground, living on cast-away meat so long as it lasted, and then they would overtake the camp and go into the nearest lodge, and at least be sure of a meal. They were generally barefooted and always shabbily dressed. It was a hard life that they led. And because he was so deaf, and believed to be crazy, the boy had not even one playmate in all the camp, nor had his sister, for she knew that it was her duty to be always at his side. There came a time, however, when a childless woman, wife of a great and rich chief, wanted the girl to raise as her own daughter, and after many days the boy persuaded her to be adopted, and he was left alone and more lonely than ever.

"Not long after this separation, the camp moved one day, and the boy, Long Arrow, remained at the old camp-ground to live there as long as he could on the leavings of the people. At last he finished the last scrap of thrown away or forgotten meat and started to overtake the camp. The day was hot, terribly hot, but despite that the boy traveled as fast as he could, often running, and perspiration streamed from his body and his breath came short and fast in loud wheezes. Suddenly, while running, he felt something give way with a snap in his left ear, felt something moving out from it, and reaching up he pulled from it a long, round, waxy object that looked like a worm. He held it in his hand and ran on, and noted that with the left ear he could plainly hear his footsteps upon the trail. A little later something snapped in his right ear, and began to move out of it, and he took from it another worm-like substance, and keeping both in his hand, ran on. He could now hear plainly with both ears, and so happy was he that he felt almost as though he could fly.

"But that was not all the good that was to come to him that day. Early in the morning a hunter had left camp with his pack dogs, and had taken the back trail in search of buffalo, and just before the boy appeared he had killed one, and was butchering it when he saw the boy approaching him. This hunter, Heavy Runner, was a chief, and one of the kindest men in the whole camp. He had long thought to do something for this boy, and now, when he saw him coming, he said to himself: 'The time has come. I shall do something for him!'

"The boy came to him and his kill, and he shouted to him, at the same time making signs: 'Sit you down, my boy, and rest. You are wet with sweat, and covered with dust. You must be very tired. Take this piece of tripe and eat it. And now let me tell you something: from this day you are to be my boy. I adopt you. You shall have a place in my lodge; good clothes; a good bed. Try to be good, and deserve it all. I am going to try to make a man of you.'

"'Heavy Runner, your kind words make me want to cry,' said the boy, his voice trembling, tears dropping from his eyes. He swallowed painfully, brushed away the tears, sat up straight, and went on: 'I shall be glad to be your son. I will do all that I can to deserve what you give me. And now, let me tell you something. As I was running away back there on the trail, and breathing hard, first in one ear, and then in the other, something broke with a snapping noise and out came these two worm-like things, and at once hearing came to me. I believe that I could hear a mouse walking if he were away out there beyond your kill.'

"'Now, that is good news, and a good sign!' Heavy Runner shouted. He was not yet used to the fact that the boy could hear. Then, remembering, he said more gently: 'You take a good rest while I finish butchering this animal and packing the dogs, and then we will each take what meat we can carry and go home. Yes, boy, you have a home now, and a good one.'

"That evening, when Heavy Runner told his woman that he had adopted Long Arrow, she made a great outcry: 'How could you, and without asking me, adopt that deaf, crazy boy?' she asked. And then, she cried, and said that she would not have him for a son, and ran from the lodge. People gathered around and pitied her and said that she was right; that the boy was crazy and deaf and worthless, and would not mind, and as soon as he got good clothes he would run off and again live at old campgrounds.

"After a time she went back to her lodge, and as soon as she entered it Heavy Runner said to her: 'Now, at once, cease your crying, and take the anger from your heart. I have adopted this boy, and he is my boy. He is no longer deaf; he was never crazy. He is a good boy and I shall make a man, a chief of him. See that you treat him well, even if you cannot love him. And believe this: if you do not treat him well, you shall be the one to suffer. To-morrow morning, begin making some good moccasins for him. I, myself, shall cut out his clothes, and he can sew them.'

"So began a new life for Long Arrow. If the woman did not love him, she at least treated him well. He did everything that he could think of to please Heavy Runner. He went hunting with him, and brought home heavy loads of the meat that he killed, and in every possible way was of use to him. And yet he was not satisfied; he kept saying to himself: 'I want to do something great for this man who is so good to me!'

"Time passed. The boy grew up to be a fine young man; good of heart and of fine appearance; and at last Heavy Runner's woman loved him as though he were her own son. But in one thing he was very different from the other young men of the camp: he made no close friends, and when not needed by Heavy Runner he wandered much by himself. Excepting his sister, whom he frequently took for long walks, he had little to say to any one, and so the people, all but she and his foster parents, continued to believe him crazy.

"One evening he said to Heavy Runner: 'Tell me. What must one do to become a chief?'

"'One must be very brave, must be fearless when facing the enemy, and of very kind heart; full of pity for the poor and the old and the sick, and always anxious to help them,' the chief replied.

"'Well, I want to become a chief. What is the first thing for me to do?' he asked.

"'The first thing to do is to go to some far and dangerous place, and get your medicine. That is, something that will make you favored by the gods, and bring you good luck in battle, and in all matters of life,' Heavy Runner told him.

"'That I shall do,' said the young man, 'but, first, will you not call in the chiefs, and the medicine men and braves, and let me hear from them where they went, and what they did to get their medicine? I shall then have a better idea of what I am to do.'

"'We will have in our lodge full of them,' Heavy Runner said. And the next morning he shouted out invitations for a smoke, asking only the great of the tribe to come to it. They came, filling the lodge, and then, when the pipe was going the round of the circle, he told why he had invited them to the smoke; asked them to give their experiences in their search for medicines.

"One after another they told their adventures; where they went; what they did; what they saw; what narrow escapes from death they had. And at last it came Spotted Bear's turn. But he refused to give his experience.

"'What,' he cried, 'tell that crazy youth about my adventure? Why, I wouldn't waste my breath on him!'

"'But he is a poor boy; he wants to know; you might tell it him in a short way,' pleaded Heavy Runner.

"'Well, I will tell it; not for his benefit, for he is crazy, and would not understand; but I will tell it so that you all may know what I did,' the surly one answered.

"'From this very place I traveled southward along the foot of the mountains. Seven days and seven nights I traveled, stopping only now and then for a short rest and sleeping very little, and on the morning after the seventh night I arrived at the shore of a small lake. There I met a stranger man who asked me what I sought, and I told him that I was wandering in search of a strong, a powerful medicine. "Ah!" said he, "in such a matter I cannot help you. Go on south for three days and three nights, and you will find a man who will give you what you seek."

"'I went on. Stopping only for short rests, and rarely sleeping, I traveled south for three days and three nights from that place, and in the morning after the third night arrived at a long, wide lake running away back in the mountains. I looked at it, looked at the mountains, turning this way, that way, and when I turned a last time, lo! there in front of me stood a man, fierce of face, dressed in beautiful strange clothing, wrapped in a robe such as I had never seen before, and carrying a spear with a big, flint point.

"'"What do you here?" he asked. "Are you not afraid to come to this, the home of us gods of the deep waters?"

"'I answered that I was not afraid; that I feared neither gods nor men, nor any animal of the earth, the sky, or the deep waters. And at that he cried out: "You are brave! The brave shall be rewarded! Come with me!"

"'I went with him to his lodge. I am promised to secrecy; I dare not tell you where it was. He took me in and fed me, and gave me this robe that I am wearing, this medicine robe, and taught me the prayers and ceremony that goes with it. I asked him what kind of a robe it was, and he answered that it was the skin of an elk-dog;[10] an animal as large as an elk, and, like the dog, useful for carrying burdens. The gods, he said, rode them, guided them wherever they wanted to go.

[10] Po-no-ka-mi-ta (elk-dog). The horse. Back

"'Said I: "May I have one of those elk-dogs to ride home?"

"'"No! They are only for the gods to use," he answered, and told me to go. I came home. I have the robe. Here it is, proof of all that I have told you. Ah! And this crazy youth would know where I went, what I did! It is to laugh to think of his going there!'

"The pipe went a last round, and then the chiefs and medicine men and braves went home. As soon as they were gone Long Arrow said to Heavy Runner: 'My chief, you know that I am not crazy. I feel that I must go on adventure, and I want to go where Spotted Bear went, and prove to him that I can go as far and face as many dangers as he did. Will you let me go, and keep secret from every one whither I have gone and for what purpose?'

"'What you propose is just what I want you to do,' Heavy Runner answered. 'You shall start to-morrow, taking with you all the moccasins and other things you will need, and your foster mother and I will tell no one anything about you.'

"At break of day the next morning, while all the people of the great camp still slept, Long Arrow started on his journey of discovery. Straight south he went, by day and by night, resting and sleeping at long intervals, and then only for a very short time. On the third day he arrived at the small lake that Spotted Bear had mentioned, and there met the man of that place, even as he had done.

"'What seek you?' the man asked.

"'Knowledge! Medicine! The way to become a chief!' Long Arrow answered.

"'I cannot help you. Go on south for seven days and seven nights, and you will come to a great lake, and there you will meet a man who can help you if he cares to do so. It may be that he will not even show himself to you, but anyhow it is worth your while to go there and try to meet him.'

"Long Arrow went on for seven days and seven nights, resting and sleeping less than ever, eating nothing except now and then a piece of dry meat not so large as his hand. Early in the morning after the seventh night, exhausted, hardly able to drag one foot after the other, he came to the great lake, and some distance back from its shore fell down on the grass and fell into a sound sleep. It was late afternoon when he awoke, and, opening his eyes, he was surprised to see a boy standing beside him. He was a beautiful child, by far the most perfect of form and feature that Long Arrow had ever seen; so beautiful that it did not seem possible he could be of this earth, a child of the people of this earth.

"Said the boy to him: 'I have been waiting here a long time for you to awake. My father invites you to his home.'

"'I shall be glad to visit him,' Long Arrow answered, and sprang up, put on his weapons, and was ready.

"The boy led him straight to the shore of the lake, and there cried out: 'Do not be afraid, follow me!' And having said that, changed into a snipe, entered the water and disappeared.

"Long Arrow was afraid, terribly afraid of the deep, dark water, and the mystery of a place where a child could suddenly become a snipe. But he said to himself: 'If I fail in my search for a medicine it shall be through no fault of mine,' and he entered the water. Lo! it did not wet him; did not touch him. It parted before him and he went on down the sloping, sandy bottom of the lake, and soon saw, close ahead, a large, fine lodge, on which were painted in red and black the figures of two strange animals. The boy, arrived at the doorway of the lodge, changed suddenly from a snipe back to his natural self, and cried out: 'Follow me! Here you will be welcome,' and went in. Long Arrow, following him, found himself facing a fine-looking man at the back of the lodge. He was sitting cross-legged on his couch, and wore a beautiful black robe which entirely covered his legs and feet. 'You are welcome here, my son, be seated,' said the man, and told his wife to prepare food for his guest.

"Long Arrow looked about him. On all sides the lodge was hung with beautiful shields, war clothes, weapons, handsomely painted and fringed pouches of sacred medicines, and a porcupine-quill embroidered belt of such brilliant colors that it shamed the rainbow.

"The woman of the lodge soon set food before Long Arrow, and, having long fasted, he ate largely. The man then filled and lighted a pipe, passed it to his guest, and said: 'I knew that you were coming, and I wondered if you would have the courage to follow my son from the shore of this lake down here to my lodge. Not long ago a man of your people came here, but he was afraid; he would not follow my son. And there he made a great mistake. I was going to give him the most valuable present ever given by gods to men. As it was, I went out to him where he sat far back from the shore, and gave him the tanned hide of an elk-dog, and sent him home. He was not worthy of a better present. But you are different. I shall give you something of great value. Remain here with us a few days. My son shall show you my band of elk-dogs; you shall hunt and kill meat for us; and when you go, then you shall have the great present.'

"The boy went out with Long Arrow and showed him the elk-dogs. They came running from the timber out upon the open prairie at the foot of the lake, and were a wonderful sight. They were far larger than an elk, of shining black color, had tails of long hair, and there was long hair all along the top of their necks and hanging down their foreheads from between their restless ears. They were of all sizes, from suckling young to old males and females, and all were very fat and playful, even the oldest of them.

"'Young man of the earth,' said the boy, 'if you are wise and watchful, these animals and my father's black robe and his many-colored belt may be your present: the three go together. You have noticed that my father always keeps his feet covered with the black robe; that when he arises and goes out of the lodge he is very careful to keep the robe lowered around him, like a dragging woman's dress, so that his feet cannot be seen. Well, you have but to see those feet, and anything that you ask for will be yours.'

"'I shall do my best to see those feet,' said Long Arrow.

"Several days passed. The old people of the lodge were very kind to Long Arrow, and he in turn did his best to please them, hunting most all of the time and bringing in much meat. And what time he was not hunting, he would sit close to the herd of beautiful elk-dogs and watch them feed and play. When in the lodge he watched closely for a sight of the old man's feet, but he ever kept them closely covered.

"At last, one evening, the old man started to go out of the lodge, keeping his robe well down upon the ground about him, but as he stepped over the low front of the doorway his right knee raised the robe and Long Arrow saw his left foot; and lo! it was not a human foot: it was the hoof, the round, hard hoof of an elk-dog! He gave a cry of surprise at the sight, and the old man, realizing what had happened, exclaimed: 'Hai-yo! How careless of me! Well, it cannot be helped, it must have been fated that he should see it!'

"He went on out, and upon returning took no pains to conceal his feet: both of them and the ankles were those of the elk-dog.

"'Well, you have seen my feet, so you can now tell me what I shall give you,' said the old man, as he resumed his seat.

"'Now, don't hesitate; speak right out; ask for the three things,' whispered the boy.

"And Long Arrow, taking courage, answered: 'Give me three things: your black robe, your many-colored belt, and your elk-dogs.'

"'Ha! You ask a great deal,' the old man cried, 'but, because you are brave and good-hearted and not lazy, you shall have the robe and the belt and a part of my band of elk-dogs. The robe and the belt are the elk-dog medicine. Without them you could never catch and use the animals. There are many prayers and songs and a long ceremony that go with them, and I have to teach it all to you. When you have thoroughly learned them, then you shall go home with your presents.'

"Long Arrow was many evenings learning them all, but at last he could repeat every one of them perfectly, and dance the dances as well as the old man himself, and finally the latter told him one evening:-

"'You have done well. I am glad that my elk-dogs and my medicines are to be in your hands. You may start for home to-morrow. And now, listen! Take good heed of what I am about to tell you.

"'When you leave here, wearing the black robe and the belt, you are to travel for three days and three nights and never once look back. When you rest, you are to face the north. Be sure, now, that, traveling or resting, you never once look back. The elk-dogs will not at first follow you, but on the third day of your homeward journey you will hear them coming behind you. Even then you must not look back, but keep on walking. After a time they will come on right beside you, and with a rope that I shall give you, you will catch one of them and mount and ride it, and all the others will follow you. They will always do that so long as you have the black robe. Lose that, and you lose your animals; they will become wild, and you will never be able to catch and train them.'

"'As you say, so shall I do,' Long Arrow answered.

"And early the next morning the old man gave him the robe, the belt, and a rope made from the head hair of buffalo bulls, and he started for home, keeping ever in mind and obeying carefully the old man's instructions. At times he had his doubts of the old man. Perhaps a big joke was being played upon him; the elk-dogs would not come on the third day, nor any other day! But he would soon cast off such thoughts, and go on with renewed faith that all would be well with him.

"And on the third day he heard behind him the thunder of many hard hoofs upon the hard plain; the occasional whinnying that he had learned to love so well! And then, an old female leading them, the elk-dogs came close up beside him, and he caught and mounted one of them, and rode on. How happy he was! He realized what this would mean for himself and for the people. These elk-dogs would rapidly increase in number; there would soon be enough of them for all the people, and then they would ride instead of walk, and their lodges and all their belongings would be carried by the animals. 'And now I can do something for those who have been so good to me,' he said to himself, and rode on, singing the new songs that he had learned.

"It was late in the afternoon on the day that he approached the camp. All the men had returned from the hunt; every one was outside the lodges, resting in the warm sunshine. The first to discover him gave a shout of surprise and alarm. All the people sprang up and stood gazing at the strange sight. They asked one another what the strange big black animals could be? And was it really a man sitting astride one of them?

"'It is some fierce god bringing his fierce animals to destroy us,' shouted Spotted Bear, the very man who had so contemptuously used Long Arrow, who had not had the courage to follow the boy-snipe into the water. Again he cried out: 'Surely it is an evil one coming to destroy us.' And he fled, and all the people fled with him and took to the brush.

"Long Arrow rode into camp and dismounted at Heavy Runner's lodge, and all the elk-dogs came up and crowded around him and the one of them that he had been riding. 'Heavy Runner! Heavy Runner!' he shouted. 'Be not afraid! I am only your son, come back to you!'

"Heavy Runner heard the well-known voice and was no longer afraid. He came hurrying from the brush, all the people following him, and they all crowded around Long Arrow and his strange animals. Said the youth then: 'Only father and mother that I ever knew, I have brought to you, excepting one female and one male, all these strange and useful animals. As you see, they can be ridden; you will no longer have to walk. Also, they will carry for you everything that is yours. I am glad that I can give them to you, both of you who have been so good to me.'

"'How generous of you!' Heavy Runner cried. But his wife could say nothing: she embraced Long Arrow and wept.

"'Where did you get the strange black ones?' a chief asked.

"'I will tell you all about it this evening; I am cautioned not to talk about the gods in the daytime,' Long Arrow answered. And after picketing the animal he had ridden on good grass, and driving the others out from camp, he went into the lodge and rested.

GOING-TO-THE-SUN CHALET, UPPER ST. MARY'S LAKE

"That evening all the chiefs and warriors came into the lodge, Spotted Bear with them, and he told all about his strange adventures, of his life with the Under-Water People, and how the old man had given him the elk-dogs, and the black robe and the belt that he wore. And, of course, he told about Spotted Bear's cowardice in failing to follow the boy-snipe into the water, and he fled from the lodge, and his chieftainship dropped from him as he fled. Ever afterward he was no more than a woman in that great camp; never again was he allowed to sit with the chiefs and warriors! And when Long Arrow had finished telling them all about his wonderful adventures, the chief cried out: 'We will move camp to that lake of the Under-Water People. They have more elk-dogs; we will ask for them, give anything to obtain possession of such valuable animals.'

"They moved south to the lake, but, search as they would, could find no elk-dogs, nor did the boy-snipe nor any of the Under-Water People appear, although the medicine men made sacrifice to them and prayed them to show themselves. They did discover, however, that above this lake was another and a longer one, hemmed in by still higher mountains, and so they named the two the Inside Lakes, and that is the name they bear to this day."

August 12.

Last night we all gathered in Stabs-by-Mistake's lodge, and, while the pipe was filled and refilled, and passed from hand to hand on many rounds, we had more tales, strange and weird, of the people of the ancient days. One that our host told especially interested me, and here it is, literally translated for your perusal. It was the story, he said, of

"ONE HORN, SHAMER OF CROWS

"It was in the long ago time, when all three of our tribes, the Blackfeet proper, the Bloods, and we, the Pikun′i, whom the whites mistakenly call Blackfeet, were still living in the North country. The camp of the Pikun′i was on Big River, close up to the foot of the mountains. One of the great chiefs of the tribe was One Horn. Very brave he was, and very rich, for his band of horses numbered more than a hundred head. He had two wives, sisters, but no children. Many orphans called him father, for he had poor old couples care for them, and kept them all well supplied with meat and with skins for clothing. He was a peculiar man, was One Horn. He seldom visited in other lodges, and was a man of few words; it was always difficult to get him to tell of his brave deeds.

"One summer night One Horn had an uneasy dream about his horses, and with the first faint light of coming day arose, washed and dressed himself, and took up his weapons and went out to see if his herd was anywhere in sight. He climbed to a little rise on the edge of the plain, saw them quietly feeding at a distance, and then saw something else: two men asleep in a coulée close under the little rise. They were, he thought, young men of the camp, watchers of the horse herds, and he concluded to surprise them and scold them for sleeping when they should be watching the plains for the approach of enemies. More from habit than anything else, he drew his bow, fitted a war arrow to it, and then, creeping close to the sleeping ones, shouted: 'Awake! You lazy ones, awake!'

"To his great surprise they were two enemies, who sprang up at the sound of his voice, and he shot one of them in the breast, and he fell, and as the other turned and ran, he fired an arrow at him and struck him in the back, but he kept on running, the arrow dangling and swaying from his back, and he soon disappeared in the thick brush bordering the river. One Horn went back to camp and sent the warriors out to look for the wounded man, but they never found him.

"Although a very brave warrior, One Horn's voice was always for peace. He thought much about the wars of tribe against tribe and the great loss of lives they caused, and wished that he could put an end to it all. He counted up the different tribes with whom his people were at war-the Sioux, the Assiniboines, Cheyennes, Pawnees, Snakes, Bannocks, Pend d'Oreilles, Flatheads, Nez Percés, Kootenai, and Crows. And the worst of them all were the Crows. He determined to go to the Crows and try to make peace between them and his people.

"Another thought came to him: It was best to say nothing to his people about his plan, for many would make serious objection to it. If he succeeded, they should know all about it upon his return. If he failed, he would never tell them where he had been. So, one evening, he gave his women orders what to do, and kept his horses close in around his lodge. Late that night, when all the camp was asleep, down came the lodge, the pack and travois horses were quietly loaded, and he and his women headed southward, he driving his big herd in the lead. The next morning the people found that they had a mystery that they could not solve: One Horn was gone with all his belongings, gone without telling them one word of his intentions! Why had he left them so secretly, and whither had he gone? They never ceased talking about it and wishing that he would return; they felt safe when he was at their backs.

"Traveling south day after day along the foot of the mountains, One Horn and his women at last struck the River-of-Many-Chiefs-Gathering, and, following it up, came in sight of the big prairies at the foot of the lower one of these Inside Lakes. It was then dusk, but not so dark but what they could see that there was a big camp of people at the edge of the timber bordering the lake shore. Said One Horn, 'They must be the ones I seek, the Mountain Crows. As soon as they sleep, we will go on and put up our lodge near theirs.'

"Early the next morning an old man stepped out from his lodge, and saw a strange lodge standing by itself just outside the circle of the big camp. He looked at it a long time, and the growing light at last enabled him to see that there were two huge bears painted on its new white leather skin. He turned and hurried to the lodge of the head chief of the camp, aroused him, and cried: 'Here is a mystery; something to be looked into: just outside the circle of our camp a strange lodge is standing. It belongs not to us Mountain Crows, nor to our brothers, the River Crows. I know that, for it has painted upon it two big bears, and neither of our tribes has that medicine.'

"The chief hurried to get up and dress, and so did others, and they soon left their lodges and approached the strange lodge. There was a fire within it. Voices were heard in low-toned conversation. Close around a few horses were picketed, and farther out grazed a large band of them, mostly grays and blacks. It was evident that the owner of the lodge was a chief, a bear medicine man, a very rich man. The Crow chief thrust aside the door curtain of the lodge, and entered, the others following. A fine-appearing man at the back of it gave them the sign for welcome, and motioned them where to sit. He lifted a big filled pipe and lighted it, and passed it. The Crow chief smoked first, and then one by one those with him.

"Having passed on the pipe, the Crow chief signed to the stranger: 'You are a Blackfoot?'

"'Yes, I am a Blackfoot,' One Horn answered. 'You are wondering why I, an enemy, have come here and set up my lodge beside you. You shall know! I have come to try to make peace between your people and my people. I am tired of all this war, and its wasting of men's lives, and making women and children mourn.'

"'You say well. Your talk deserves attention. Peace between us would be good for us both. I will talk to my people about it,' said the Crow chief.

"And just then One Horn's women set before him and the other Crows dishes of rich berry pemmican, the best of dried meat and back fat, and they ate with the outside chief. Then they smoked again and went home, the Crow chief saying that he would soon give a call for a council, and would send for the Blackfoot to join in it.

"It was not until near sunset, however, that a youth came to invite One Horn to the Crow chief's lodge. He found assembled there all the head men of the tribe, and the chief told him that, after long talk, they had decided that they, too, were tired of war, and would be glad to make peace with the Blackfeet.

"'But be not in a hurry to return home,' the Crow chief concluded. 'Make us a long visit, and during it we will decide together where and when our two tribes shall meet to make this lasting peace treaty.'

"Answered One Horn: 'I shall be glad to camp here with you for the rest of this moon.' And all those present signed to him: 'Yes. Remain here with us for a time.'

"One Horn and the Crow chief became friends. They hunted together, visited often in each other's lodge, and together were invited to other lodges to feast and smoke, and join in the warriors' tales of raids and battles and adventures along far trails.

"The River Crows were at this time encamped just over the ridge from the Inside Lakes, on Little River, and some of them came frequently to visit their Mountain brothers at the foot of the lakes. Among others came a man who was always counting his coups. In a gathering of the warriors he would wait until all had told what they had done in war against their enemies, and then he would count one coup, only one, that was far greater than any of theirs.

"On a day when One Horn was visiting in the Crow chief's lodge, this man was one of the guests. The talk was of war, and after many there had told what they had done, he said that, with a friend, he was approaching the Blackfeet camp, and they were discovered and surrounded by all the warriors of the tribe. His friend soon fell, as full of arrows as a porcupine is full of quills, but that he, charging this way, that way, shooting arrows fast and killing many Blackfeet, made them give way before him and he escaped from them, although wounded in the back. Later on, when safe from pursuit, he had drawn out the arrow, and still had it, proof enough of the truth of his tale.

"This man then turned to One Horn, and said, by signs, of course, 'We have all of us here told about our fights, and now it is your turn: tell of your brave deeds.'

"'I have nothing to say that will interest you; mine have been just the common experiences of those who go on raids. No, I have nothing to say,' he answered.

"'But you must tell us one great thing that you have done,' the River Crow insisted.

"And again One Horn answered: 'What I have done would not interest you. I have nothing to say.'

"The man then turned to the Mountain Crow chief and said: 'This is a poor kind of a friend for you to have! He has done nothing; he is no chief, he is a woman!'

"'I do not know for sure, but I think that he is a chief, that he has a big war record,' the host answered him.

"And then the guests went their several ways, the River Crow laughing shrilly, contemptuously, as he left the lodge.

"It was not long after this that the River Crow came over again from Little River, and again was one of a party of guests in the lodge of the chief of the Mountain Crows. Once more the talk was of war, and when it came this man's turn to talk, he drew an arrow from his quiver, laid it on the ground in front of him, and said: 'There! No one here, nor in the camp of the Mountain Crows and the camp of the River Crows, has ever equaled what that stands for. That is the arrow that I drew from my back after my partner was killed, and I fought my way single-handed through the hundreds of Blackfeet warriors, killing many of them, and so frightening them that they dared not pursue me.'

"One Horn leaned over, looked at the arrow, and gave an exclamation of disgust: 'That is my arrow,' he signed. 'I know this man now. At dawn, one morning, I discovered him and his partner asleep near our camp. I crept up to them and shouted, thinking that they were our horseherd watchers, and when they sprang up, I saw that they were enemies. I shot one of them dead. This man turned and ran, never even firing at me, and I shot an arrow into his back, but he kept on going and escaped from me in the brush! Yes. That is the very arrow I shot into him!'

"'It is a lie! A big lie!' the River Crow said, and signed.

"For answer to that, One Horn went to the door of the lodge and shouted to his women to bring over his quiver of arrows. It was soon handed in to him, and he said: 'I have here two kinds of arrows: hunting arrows and war arrows. Here are the war arrows.' And he laid them beside the arrow in front of the boaster. All there saw at once that they were exactly like it in every way, had the same private mark just back of the point. And suddenly, with jeers and cries of 'Liar!' 'Coward!' they took handfuls of ashes and earth from the fireplace and threw them in the River Crow's face and on his head, and he ran for the door and was gone, leaving the arrow behind. One Horn picked it up and put it in his quiver, and said: 'That no doubt ends his lying bragging!'

"Some days after this exposure of his lying, the River Crow, watching his chance, entered the lodge of the Mountain Crow chief and said to him: 'That Blackfoot has shamed me. I was a chief, but now all people laugh at me. I want revenge. Let me kill that friend of yours and I will give you three of my best horses!'

"'What you ask is impossible!' the chief replied. 'He is my friend! We have smoked together, have eaten together. I cannot allow you to kill him. And for your lying you deserve what you got!'

"The River Crow sneaked away, but on the next evening, when none but the chief and his women were at home, he came again. And this time he said: 'Let me do what I want to do; you know what that is; and I will give you five of my best horses and my beautiful young daughter.'

"And this time the chief did not give him a short answer. He thought over the offer for a long time. He knew that it would be a terrible thing to betray his Blackfoot friend, but the temptation was great. His women were getting old. He wanted that beautiful girl. And at last he gave way to the temptation: 'It shall be as you wish,' he told the man. 'All is arranged for to-morrow; we go with the hunters on a big buffalo hunt, and there will be no chance for you to do what you want to do. Come the day after to-morrow and I will help you-if you need my help-to kill the Blackfoot.'

"Very early the next morning the hunters started out after buffalo, One Horn taking with him one of his women to help in the butchering and packing in of the meat. They were no sooner gone than one of the Crow chief's women hurried to One Horn's lodge and told his other woman all about the plan to kill him. She told it because she was jealous; she did not want her man to take another wife!

"So it was that, when One Horn came home that evening, this wife ran to him and embraced and kissed him as though she would never let him out of her arms. This strong showing of love was unusual with her, and he asked her the cause for it.

"'Because to-morrow you are to die, and sister and I are to become slaves. See now what you have done by coming to try to make peace with these Crows!' And she told him all about the plot to end his life.

"But One Horn just laughed: 'Wipe away your tears and take courage,' he told her. 'These Crows will not kill me, a bear medicine man, and a chief. They cannot kill me. I will show you to-morrow something that will surprise you!'

"That night he kept his favorite war horse picketed close to his lodge, and the next morning he carefully dressed himself in his beautiful war clothes, painted himself and his horse, took his bow and arrows, his shield and spear, and rode into the center of the big camp, and called upon the Crow chief to come out. He did come out, also dressed for battle, and One Horn cried out to him, at the same time making signs, so that he would be sure to understand, 'Your plot is discovered. So you and that River Crow are going to kill me. Where is he? Call him. I want to fight you both. I am a bear. I fight like a bear. Come! Hurry! Let us fight. Ha! I am going to fight my true friend, the chief of the Mountain Crows, he who smoked and ate with me, he who was going to join me in making a lasting peace between our two tribes. Come! Let us fight! Shall it be on horseback or afoot? I give you the choice.'

"The Crow chief gave him no answer. Some of the people, looking on, were beginning to show their anger and shame at his betrayal of a friend. He turned and went back into his lodge, and would not come out again.

"While this was going on, several men had hurried to the River Crow man, stopping in the far end of camp: 'Your plan to kill the Blackfoot is discovered, and he is dressed and armed and mounted, waiting to fight you. He is like a raging grizzly, and his, you know, is the bear medicine. What are you going to do?'

"The man did not answer them. He mounted his horse, and, hidden from One Horn's sight by the lodges, struck out for the River Crow camp on Little River, and fear was with him. He often looked back to see if he were being pursued by this dreadful bear medicine man who had once wounded him, and was now so anxious to meet him face to face.

"One Horn rode back to his lodge. 'Take down the lodge, pack up everything. We will not stay another day with these treacherous Crows,' he told them, and rounded up and caught what horses were needed for packing and riding.

"Just before they were ready to leave, the Crow chief sent one of his women to say to One Horn that he was sorry for what he had done, very sorry that he had ever listened to the River Crow, and wanted to make reparation. He wanted to give his Blackfoot friend ten head of horses.

"'Tell him that I will not accept anything from him,' One Horn answered the woman. And he and his outfit started for the north and were soon out of sight of the Crow camp.

"Some days afterward they arrived at the camp of their people on the Big River of the North, and had no sooner set up their lodge than One Horn called a council of the chiefs and told them where he had been and for what purpose.

"'Although I accomplished nothing, I am glad I went,' he told them. 'I now know the Crows. They are liars all, and not to be trusted. I advise that we begin a steady war against them.'

"The other chiefs agreed to that. Messengers were sent to the brother tribes, the Bloods and the North Blackfeet, and to the Gros Ventres, friends of the Blackfeet, and the war was started. Little by little, summer after summer, they drove the Crows southward, killing many of them, and were not satisfied until they forced them to the country south of the Elk River,[11] where they have ever since remained. So, because of their treachery, the Crows lost a great and rich country."

[11] Po-no-ka′-?s-i-sak-ta. Elk River; the Yellowstone River. Back

August 18.

THE ELK MEDICINE CEREMONY

Not in many, many years have I been so affected as I was this morning. For some days I have had a high fever, and have slept but little at night. In-si-mak′-i (Growth Woman), Yellow Wolf's wife, had been doctoring me with the good old remedy for fevers, sweet sage tea, but it seemed to have no effect. So Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill announced that he would have his Elk Medicine ceremony for my benefit, and that he was sure that it would cure me of my illness. We had it this morning, and to-night I have a normal pulse and the fever has left me. I will not go so far as to say that it was his prayers that cured me,-prayers far better, far more earnest than those of any Christian preacher I ever heard,-but yet, I am well! To me, all religions are nothing more than the codified superstitions of the ages, but of them all, Christian and pagan, I like best the faith of these, my people, faith that the sun is the conservator of all life and the orderly ruler of this, our earth. And what absolute faith they have in their Sun-religion! Should Christians live as closely to their beliefs as the Blackfeet do to the laws of conduct given them by their Sun god, what a different, what a happy world this would be!

Before I relate the details of the ceremony, I must tell something of the medicine itself.

The Blackfeet believe that, when they lie down and sleep, their shadows, or, as we say, their souls, their spiritualities, leave the body and go on far adventure. Their name for this is Ni-pup′-o-kan (my dream; my vision); and when they awake they really believe that they have experienced all the incidents of their dream, and relate them as having been of actual fact.

When men and animals were first created, they had a common language, and the latter had the power to change themselves at will into the form of man. It was in that long ago time that a man seeking knowledge, and praying earnestly for it, was in his vision visited by an elk in the form of a man, whose name was Po-no-kai′-?t-s?n-in-ah (Elk-Tongue Chief).

"I have heard you praying, asking for help. What is it you want? Perhaps I can help you," the elk man said.

The man answered: "I seek some way to relieve my people from sickness; some way to give them long life and happiness. Help me if you can do so."

The elk man answered: "I can help you; I will help you. Through what was given me in my vision I am in great favor with the sun, and all the gods of the earth, the deep waters, and the blue above. That medicine you shall have. I give it to you now!" And having said that, he gave the man a painted lodge, a medicine pipestem, beautifully decorated with a down-hanging set of tail feathers of the sage hen, and wound with strips of the fur of the bear and various water animals. And with it, wrapped in clean buckskins, were the skins of birds and animals, all those that live upon the water and in the water, and feed upon the life in the water, fish, and all the various water insects. And having given the man all this, he taught him how to use it, with all the prayers and ceremonies that go with it. The man took all this to his home, and used it, and found that it was great medicine, and ever since that time the Elk Medicine Lodge and the things that go with it have been handed down from generation to generation, to this day.

So now we come to the ceremony that was given to-day for the curing of my illness. It was my lucky day! Early in the morning Mr. Herford T. Cowling, chief photographer for the United States Reclamation Service, arrived at the Great Northern Railway Company's St. Mary's Camp and I went to him and asked if he would take moving pictures of the ceremony, provided the Indians were willing to have him do it. He enthusiastically replied that he would be very glad to take it all in with his crank-machine, so I went to my people to ask if they would permit it to be done. They objected, saying that the ceremony was so sacred that even the presence of white people, antagonistic all of them to their religion, would profane it. They did not count me. I was one of them!

Said I: "Listen, my relatives, and brothers all! We are all soon to die, and as we pass away the whole of the old life goes with us. Your children, taken away from you by the whites, put in school and taught the white men's religion and manner of living, will know nothing about the way their fathers lived unless I put it all down in writing for all time to come. That I am doing. And how much more interesting it will be if I can have pictures to go with it! Say yes! Let us have, with this that you are to do to-day, the living pictures of it all!"

There followed a long silence, all considering my request. Finally, my best of friends, Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill, wiped tears from his eyes, and said, brokenly: "Ap-i-kun′-i is right. The whites take our children from us and teach them false beliefs. But they teach them to read, and it may be, that, after we have all gone on to the Sand Hills,[12] they will read our brother's writings and see us as we were, making our prayers to the gods, and, having read and seen the pictures of it all, return to the one true faith. I say, let the picture man come!"

[12] The Sand Hills (Sp?t-si-kwo). The drear after-life abode of the Blackfeet. Their shadows there had a cold, cheerless imitation of life. Back

"Ai! Ai! Let him come!" all cried, and I sent a messenger for him.

During the ceremony he took six hundred feet of it, and so for all time to come is preserved the interesting ceremony of the Elk Medicine.

The ceremony is always given in a closed lodge, but this time we threw the front of it wide open, so that the lens of that moving-picture machine could take it all in.

As I have said, Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill is old, feeble, half-blind, and is himself unable to go through parts of the ceremony. So, on the evening before this came off, he sent for Chief Crow and his wife, living near, to help him out. Chief Crow is also a medicine man, his wife, of course, a medicine woman, and he owns the Seizer's medicine pipe. Four other medicine men were there, all of them taking part in the ceremony. In each of the three tribes of the Blackfeet there is a secret society of the medicine men, and the members help one another in their ceremonies, and they and they only can dance with the sacred symbols of their rites.

When I went into the lodge the sacred medicines were hanging directly over the owner's couch, opposite the doorway. They were the sacred pipestem and many skins of water animals and birds enclosed in various wrappings, and a buffalo rawhide painted pouch containing sacks of various colored sacred paints. On Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill's left sat his medicine wife. I took my seat close to him on his right. Back of me, and all around the right side of the lodge from me, were a number of women. On the other side, opposite them, were the men and Chief Crow's medicine wife.

The ceremony opened with a prayer by Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill, beseeching the gods to look with favor upon what was to be done. Then his wife arose and undid the fastenings of the medicines, and slowly, reverently, laid them on the couch between her and her husband. The opening song then began, the song of Po-no-kai′-?t-s?n-in-ah (Elk-Tongue Chief). Oh, how I would like to inscribe that song here! Alice Fletcher says-and I know that she is right-that all Indian music is classical. But their tonal scale is far different from ours; we have not one musical instrument that can reproduce it. Never, never lived a white man who could sing these Blackfeet songs. As a boy, year after year, I tried to sing them, and always failed; one has to take them in with his mother's milk in order to sing them correctly.

OPENING OF THE ELK MEDICINE PIPE CEREMONY

Left to right: The author; Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill; his wife and the wife of Chief Crow, both medicine women; Chief Crow, medicine man, lifting the sacred roll of the medicine pipe; Medicine Weasel and Old Boy, singers

The song ended. The medicine woman, with a pair of sacred red-painted willow tongs, took a coal from the fire, placed it just in front of the sacred medicines, and dropped upon it a pinch of sweet grass. It burned, and, as the perfumed smoke arose, she and her man grasped handfuls of it and stroked their bodies, thus purifying themselves before handling the medicines. Then, all present joining in, they sang the song of the real bear, the grizzly, while the medicine woman unfastened the outer wrapping of the medicine pipestem roll, which was bound with a strip of fur from a grizzly's back; and at the same time, in keeping with the time of the song, they made the sign for the bear, closed hands held upon each side of the head, representing its wide, rounding ears.

That song finished, the song of the buffalo began, the medicine man and the medicine woman clenching their hands and alternately putting one out before the other, representing the deliberate, ponderous tread of the animals as they traveled to and from the water. When that song was finished-and it was one to stir one's inmost soul-another wrapping, bound with buffalo fur, was undone, and all present besought the gods to have pity upon them.

Next came the fourth and last song, the song of the beaver, chief of water animals. And while it was being sung, the medicine woman unrolled the fourth and last wrapping, and the sacred medicine pipestem lay in sight of us all. At that all the women gave shrill cries of triumph, of victory; and all the medicine men beginning a solemn chant to the Sun, Chief Crow advanced, received from the medicine wife of my old friend the sacred stem, and, extending the fan of feathers drooping from it, held it aloft and danced in time with the song to the doorway of the lodge and back again, and returned the stem to my friend, who reverently took and embraced it, and made a short prayer to the gods for the long life, good health, and happiness of us all, especially the little children of the tribe.

Next came my part in the ceremony. My old relative and friend felt around in his medicine pouch, got out a small sack of a-san′, the sacred red paint, and painted my face with it, at the same time beseeching the gods to give me, his brother, Ap-i-kun′-i, long life, good health, and prosperity in all things. Then, having finished the painting and the prayer, he had his wife hand Chief Crow, his helper, the long red-painted wooden flute that goes with the medicine, and the latter, holding it aloft, danced with it almost to the doorway of the lodge, where he blew several soft, clear notes to the four corners of the earth, and then returned the flute to the woman. This was the Elk Medicine whistle, for imitating the weird call of that animal, and was used just now to call him, the ancient Elk god, to give me his favor, his pity. My friend then facing me, upon his knees began the thunder song, in which all joined, and, spreading his blanket-clad arms wide to represent the thunder bird wings, hovered before me, fanned me with his wings, the intent being to waft to me from him the sacred power. That over, all arose, and passing in line from the lodge, Chief Crow leading, danced through the camp and back again, and the ceremony ended.

I cannot begin to express how I felt all through the ceremony. I honored my people for their sincere faith, their reverence for their gods. And my thoughts went back to the time when they were the lords of these plains and mountains and knew not want. And not so very long ago they were a tribe of three thousand members, and now they number only eight or nine hundred, and those who have gone have mostly gone from want, from their susceptibility to disease because of lack of proper nourishment. Do you wonder that they feel bitterly toward the whites, who have taken from them everything that made their life worth living?

ELK MEDICINE PIPE DANCE

Chief Crow leading the column and carrying the sacred stem

August 27.

Because we were to-day to embark upon the deep, dark waters of this lake, we yesterday had a little ceremony on the shore, beseeching the dread Under-Water People to have pity upon us and allow us to pass in safety over their domain. We had a little fire close to the water's edge, and having filled and lighted his pipe with a coal taken from it with his sacred red tongs, old Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill smoked and made his prayers, at the same time casting into the water a little sack of his medicines as a sacrifice to the gods. It was a short ceremony, but satisfied even the most timid of the women that all would be well with them during their voyage upon the lake.

And so, where we once had rude rafts of logs, lashed together with rawhide ropes, we this morning embarked in good boats and went all up the beautiful lake, past Red Eagle, and Little Chief, and Almost-a-Dog Mountains to the head of the lake, and looking back at the slope of Milk River Ridge saw the far-apart, enormous footprints of Heavy Runner, keeper of the buffalo.

Away back in ancient times, after Old Man had made buffalo and they had increased and covered the plains, they had great desire to wander westward and see what might be on the other side of the great mountains. The people-the Blackfeet-learning of this were greatly distressed. The far side of the mountains, away west and still westward to the shores of the Everywhere-Water, was the country of their enemies, many tribes of them, and should they get possession of the buffalo herds they would never let them return. What to do about it they had no idea, so they called upon Old Man for help.

UPPER TWO MEDICINE LAKE

Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill (with pipe) propitiating the dreaded Under Water People

Said he: "I made the buffalo to be plains animals, and here upon these plains they shall remain, and other-side tribes shall come to you and ask permission to kill a few of them now and then. So, don't worry. Go home now and attend to your affairs. All shall be well with you."

The people went home. They saw that the buffalo remained upon the plains in apparently as great numbers as ever. But some of the hunters, to learn for sure if they were all there, ascended the different passes of the mountains and went down the other side for some distance. There were no buffalo, not even a few straggling bulls on the other side, and they wondered how Old Man was keeping them back. They soon learned. In a vision it was revealed to an old medicine man that a huge god, a man of enormous stature, was patrolling the mountains from far south to the everlasting snow of the north, and with a club driving the buffalo back eastward as fast as they came anywhere near the summit of the range. And so it was that the other tribes-those of the west-never got the buffalo.

On our way down the lake we passed the beautiful Sun Camp and the chalets of the Great Northern, perched upon the very spot where Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill and I killed many a bighorn and goat in times gone by. It was a favorite wintering place of the animals, for the winds kept the steep mountain slope practically bare from snow. And passing the mouth of the creek just above the camp, I remembered that I had named it after Thomas, and Colonel Robert, and the Honorable Cecil Baring, of London, with whom I often hunted back in the eighties. In those days there were many bighorn and goats, and not a few grizzlies back in the basin at the head of the creek. And what amusing and sometimes exciting adventures we had with them! One morning we espied a big "billy" goat on a ledge, and just as we saw him he moved to the back side of it and lay down, showing only an inch or two of the top of his back.

"Who will go up and rout him out, so that I can get a shot?" asked Colonel Baring, and Jack Bean, of Yellowstone fame, volunteered.

It was to be a steep, almost straight-up climb, so Jack laid down his rifle and started without encumbrance of any kind. At last he reached the shelf and stood up on it, and that "billy" came for him, head down! And Jack! Never have I seen a man come down a dangerous cliff so fast as he did! And he kept coming, falling, sliding, rolling, and then Colonel Baring fired and dropped the goat, and man and animal came the rest of the way to the foot of the place together! We had been too much concerned for the safety of our friend to laugh, but when he at last stood up and faced us, bloody, half-naked, but not seriously hurt, we roared. But Jack never even smiled: "Who would have thought that a blankety-blank goat would go for a fellow!" he exclaimed; and he went to the creek to repair the damages to his person.

On this day, halting here and there along the lake, we took some views of the scenery and of our people, and at sunset were back in our lodges. For some of us it is a last trip over the old, familiar ground. My two old friends, Tail-Feathers-Coming-over-the-Hill and Yellow Wolf, must soon go on to their Shadow Land!

We were not too tired to-night for story-telling, so, after the children had been put to bed and all was quiet, Takes-Gun-Ahead gave us the following, the story of tobacco, which is called

NA-WAK′-O-SIS

"In that long ago time when the earth was young, and people had not long been made, a man threw some weeds upon a fire and found that the odor, the smoke from their burning, was very pleasant. That night he had a vision and learned that this plant was strong medicine; that, when smoked in a pipe, which his vision explained to him how to make, it would be the right thing with which to offer prayers to the gods. He also taught the man the prayers and all the ceremony that went with the prayers; and told him how to plant the weeds, from the seeds on their tops, so that he could always have plenty of it.

"This man was very much pleased with what he had learned. He went to his three brother medicine men and told them all about it, and the four of them formed a society of themselves and no others, for the raising of the weed and its proper uses. But they were very stingy with this weed, which they named na-wak′-o-sis, and would only now and then give the people a leaf of it, although they raised large numbers of the stalks in every summer time.

"A young man named Lone Bull was very anxious to become a member of this medicine society, but because he had no medicines and knew not the rites of it, he was told that he could not join it. At that time the camp of the people was close under Chief Mountain. He left it, with his woman and his pack dogs, and moved up to the river running out of the Inside Lakes, and there set up his lodge. Said he then to his woman: 'I have come up here to get medicines; in some way to find things that will enable me to become a raiser of na-wak′-o-sis. If I can do that, I shall be of great help to the people. Now, then, I am going to hunt and collect all the medicine skins I can find, and you stay at home, take care of the lodge, gather wood, and cook what meat we need. I shall bring in plenty of fat meat along with the skins.'

"The man went hunting every day, and the woman remained at home. One day, when the man was gone, she thought she heard singing; beautiful singing; but look where she would she could see no singers. She spoke to the man about it when he came home that evening, and made him feel uneasy: 'If you hear it again, look about more carefully,' he told her.

"She heard it the next day, and this time located it, right under the lodge. She went out to the bank of the river and looked at the bank: there, under the water, were beaver holes in it, and beaver cuttings upon the sandy bottom, and by that she knew that the lodge had been set up above a bank beaver's home, and that beavers were the singers. She went back to the lodge, lay down and put her ear to the ground, and could then hear them plainly, and was pleased. Their singing was so good that it was all that she could do to stop listening to them and begin cooking the evening meal.

"When Lone Bull came home that night she told him what she had learned, but he could hear nothing, although he put his ear close to the ground. Nor could he hear the singing the next evening, nor the next, although his woman could hear it plainly. So now the woman got her knife and cut a round hole in the ground, and Lone Bull laid his head in it and could then hear the singing. He told her to make the hole deeper; larger. She did so, and cut clear through the ground, and looking down he could see the beavers sitting in their home, singing beautiful songs, and dancing strange and beautiful dances in time to them.

"'Younger brothers, have pity on me!' he cried. 'Oh, my young brothers, teach me your medicine!'

"They looked up and saw him, and one answered: 'Close the hole that you have made, because the light disturbs us, and we will soon be with you.'

"They soon came in through the doorway, four fine-looking men, beautifully dressed. They had changed themselves from beavers to men. They took seats, and then one of them said to Lone Bull: 'Elder brother, what is it that you want of us? How can we help you?'

"Lone Bull told them what it was: his great desire to obtain na-wak′-o-sis and grow it for the people.

"'We have that plant; like us it is from the water, a water medicine,' the beaver man told him; 'but before you can use it you have much to do, much to learn. You have to learn all our songs and prayers and dances and different ceremonies, and gather for the ceremonies a skin of every animal and bird that is of the water, one of each except the beavers, and of them there must be two. You know these animals and birds: otter, mink, muskrat; different kinds of ducks; the fish hawk, and all the other birds that get their food from the life of the water. Why? Because there are two great life-givers of this world: the sun, which gives heat, and water, that makes growth, and in our ceremonies the skins of these different animals are symbols of the water.'

"'I shall collect them all, so teach me everything,' Lone Bull told them. And they began that very night.

"Day after day Lone Bull hunted the animals and birds, brought in their skins for his woman to cure, and night after night the beavers taught him their medicine, all the sacred prayers and dances and ceremonies of it. And at last he knew them all thoroughly.

"Then, one night, the beaver chief handed him some stalks of na-wak′-o-sis, the top stems all covered with little round seeds.

"'These,' said he, 'are the children of the big-leaved plants; put them into the ground and they will grow and make other plants that bear children. And now, I must tell you just how to plant: Gather a great, long, wide pile of old dry logs, dry brush and weeds, and set it afire. The heat from it will burn the ground, burn the sod, and make everything soft under it. Then, when the place has cooled, gather from around badger holes, squirrel holes, and wherever you can find it, plenty of the brown earth they have thrown out, and mix it with the burned black earth, so that it will not pack hard around the seeds, and keep them from coming up into the sunlight.

"'After you have taken all the seeds from the stems, you must put them in a sack and not touch them again with your hands. With an antelope horn you will make row after row of little holes all across the burned ground and only a hand apart, and with a buffalo-horn spoon drop a seed into each hole. When that is done, and it will require a long time, you and yours are to dance along each row of seed, singing the sacred songs, your feet lightly pressing down the ground over the seed. At the end of a row you must step across to the next row, and dance backward on that one, and forward on the next, and so on until the last row has been pressed down, and all your songs have been sung. Then you can go away from the place for a time. Return after one moon has passed, and you will find that the young plants have grown above the ground. Watch them, that insects do not destroy them. Give them water if the rains fail you. They will grow all summer, and fade with the ripening of the choke-cherries. Cut them then, care well for them, and you and your people will have a plenty for your winter smokes and ceremonies. There! I have told you all!'

"It was planting-time then. Lone Bull moved right up to the foot of the lower one of the Inside Lakes, and did everything that he had been told to do, his wife helping him in every way. People hunting from down Chief Mountain way came and saw his growing plants, and went home and told about them. The four medicine men just laughed. 'Ha!' They cried. 'He has no na-wak′-o-sis! He wanted to join us and we would not let him into our society. He but plants some useless weed.'

"But later on, just as their planting was getting ripe, a terrible hailstorm came along and destroyed it all; every leaf was cut into fine pieces! They cried from grief! Then they said among themselves: 'Na-wak′-o-sis we must have or our medicines will be without power. It may be that this Lone Bull really has the true plants: let us go up and see them.'

"They went, all the people with them, and saw that he had the sacred plants. The hailstorm had come nowhere near his place.

"Said they to him then: 'You have a big planting, and we will help you gather it, and you and we four will use it. You shall join us.'

"Lone Bull laughed long before he answered: 'I need no help from you. You shall each have a little of my planting for your own use, and you shall pay me well for it. The rest, excepting what I need, I shall give to the people, and hereafter they will always have all that they need of the plants.'

"And as he said that he would do, so he did, and the people gave him great praise and honor for it all, and he lived to great age. Kyi! Why not? He had the beaver-the water medicine! It is a powerful medicine to this day!"

A visitor in our camp this evening told a tale that ill pleases us. There is a tourist camp away up in Gun-Sight Pass, one of the most weirdly beautiful places in this whole country. There, the other day, an employee was putting up a table on which were painted arrows pointing to the different mountains, the name of each peak alongside its particular arrow.

A tourist standing near and watching the work suddenly exclaimed: "Why, over there is a peak that has no name. Can you not name it after me?"

"Certainly I can," the employee answered; and painted another arrow and inscribed beside it: "Lehnert Peak."

"And over there is a fine waterfall," the tourist said. "Will you please name it after my little daughter?"

"Sure!" said the man; and painted another arrow pointing to "Mary Frances Falls."

Enough said!