THE TRIUMPH OF SEHA

WHEN Seha had grown to be a tall youth, he said to the old men: “Now I am almost a man; what shall I do?” For being a youth, he dreamed of great things. And the old men answered: “That Wakunda knows; therefore, take yourself to a high hill; there fast and pray until sleep comes, and with it a vision.”

So Seha arose and laid aside his garments, and naked, went out on the prairie. When he had gone far, he climbed to the top of a lonely hill, bare of grass and strewn with flakes of stone that made its summit white like the head of a man who has seen many winters.

Then he knelt upon the flinty summit, and raising his palms to the heavens, he cried: “O Wakunda, here needy stands Seha!” Four times he uttered the cry, yet there was no sound save that of the crow overhead, and the wind in the short grass of the hillside.

Then he fell into an agony of weeping, and wetting his palms with his tears, he rubbed them in the white dust and smeared his face with mud. Then he cast his wet eyes to the heavens, and again raised his hands in supplication.

“O Wakunda, Seha is a young man; he would do great things like the old men; send him a vision!”

The night came down and still he held his eyes upon the darkening heavens, crying for a vision. But only the coyote answered him. The stars looked out of the east and steadily climbed upward, gazing upon his tearful face. But when the grey of age began to grow upon the forehead of the Night, he grew so weary that he fell forward upon his face and slept.

And lo! the vision came!

It seemed that the skies were black and fierce as the face of a brave in anger. The lightning glared; and the thunder shouted like a warrior in the front of the battle! Then the cloud split, and through it rushed a mighty eagle with the lightning playing on its wings; its cry was like the shriek of a dying foe and its eyes were bright with the vision that sees far. Its wings hovered over Seha, and it spoke:

“Seha shall be a seer of things far off. His thought shall be quick as the lightning, and his voice shall be as thunder in the ears of men!”

Seha awoke, and he was shivering with the dews of morning. Then he arose and walked back toward his village, slowly, for his thoughts were great. Four days he went about the village, speaking to no one; and the people whispered: “Seha has had a vision; do you not see that his eyes are big with a strange light?”

One night after the four days had passed, Seha arose from his blankets and, creeping stealthily out of his tepee, he went to the lodge of Ebahamba, who was a great medicine-man, for Seha wished to tell his vision into a wise ear.

Pulling back the buffalo robe that hung across the entrance he saw the great man sleeping in the moonlight that fell through the opening at the top of the tepee. Entering, he touched the shoulder of the sleeper, who awoke with a start, and, sitting up, stared at the young intruder. Then Ebahamba being thoroughly awakened, spoke:

“Seha has come to tell his vision; I knew he would come; speak.”

“You are a great man,” began Seha, “and your eyes are like the sun’s eyes to see into the shadow. Hear me and teach me.”

Then he told of his vision on the lonely hill.

As Ebahamba listened to the wonderful thing that had befallen the youth, his heart grew cold with envy; for certainly great things were in store for Seha, and might it not come to pass that the youth should grow even greater in power than Ebahamba himself?

So, when the youth had ceased, breathless with the wonder of the thing he told, the old man said coldly: “Wakunda will teach Seha; let him go learn of the wind and the growing things!”

Then the youth arose and left the lodge. But the big medicine-man slept no more that night, for jealousy is sleepless.

At that time it happened that the winds were hot from the southwest, and the maize grew yellow as the sun that smote it, and the rainless air curled its blades. And the old man Ebahamba cried to Wakunda for rain; but the skies only glared back for answer.

Then a great moan went up before the lodge of the big medicine-man, Ebahamba. “Ebahamba speaks with the spirits; let him pray to the thunder spirits that we may have food for our squaws and our children!”

And Ebahamba shut himself in his tepee four days, fasting, crying to the thunder spirits, and performing strange rites. But every morning the sun arose glaring like the eye of a man who dies of fever, and the hot wind sweltered up from the southwest, moaning hoarsely like one who moans with thirst; and the maize heard the moan and wilted.

Then when the people grew clamorous before the lodge of Ebahamba, he came forth and said: “The thunder spirits are sleeping; they are weary and drowsy with the heat.” And the hooting of his people drove him back into his lodge.

Then Seha raised his voice above the despairing murmur of the village, saying: “Seha is a young man, yet the thunder spirits will hear him, be they ever so drowsy, for Seha has had a vision. Seha will call the rain.”

The murmur of the people ceased, for so strange a light was in the eyes of the youth that they believed.

“Let Seha give us rain,” they cried, “and he shall be a great man among his people!”

Then Seha strode out of the village and disappeared in the hills. His heart was loud as he walked, for would he not be a great man among his people? He believed in his power with that belief which is the power. All day he walked, and when the red sun glared across the western hills like an eye bloodshot with pain, he came to a clump of cottonwoods that sang upon the summit of a bluff.

Now the thunder spirits love the cottonwoods, for they rise sternly from the earth, reaching their long arms into the clouds, and they cry back at the storm with a loud voice. Where the cottonwood sings, there the thunder spirits sleep, and the thunder birds, the eagle and the hawk, watch with keen eyes.

Under the trees Seha stood, and raising his hands and his eyes to the heavens, he cried: “Hear Seha! For is he not a thunder man? Did he not dream the thunder man’s dream? Then I command you, send the big clouds boiling before the wind; send the rains, that my people may have food for their children. Then I will be a great man among my people!”

The trees only tossed their branches above him, while they sang softly in the wind.

“O Thunder Spirits!” he cried again. “You are not asleep! I hear you talking together in the tree tops. Listen to me, for I am a thunder man!”

Then a dead calm grew. The cottonwoods were still. Suddenly they groaned with a cool gust from the east. The groan was like a waking man’s groan when he arises, stretching and yawning, from his blankets.

Then Seha lay down to sleep; for were not the thunder spirits awake?

When the night was late, Seha was awakened by the howl of the thunder. He saw the quick lightning pierce the boiling darkness in the east. Then the rain drops danced upon the dry hills with a sound like the unintelligible patter of many voices that are glad.

Seha was glad, and he answered the shout of the thunder. His people in the village were glad, and their tongues were noisy with the name of Seha. The maize was glad and it looked up to the kind sky, tossing its arms in exultation.

When Seha returned to the village, he was the centre of a joyful cry; he had become a great man among his people. And when they asked from whence he had such great powers, he said: “I caught it from the blowing wind; I heard it in the growing of the maize.”

But there was one who did not greet the mysterious youth. Ebahamba shut himself in his tepee, for had he not failed to awaken the thunder spirits when a youth had succeeded? Ebahamba sat sullenly in his tepee, thinking great and fierce thoughts; and after many days of fasting, his magic came back to him. Then he summoned to his lodge one by one, the men of his band, and he said to each: “Behold! Seha speaks with evil spirits. May he not destroy his people? Then let us perform the rite of Wazhinadee against him that he may be forsaken by man and beast and so die!”

The men of his band believed Ebahamba, for his magic was very great now, and he forced them to believe. So each man went to his tepee, shut himself in, feasted and thought sternly against Seha. For this is the manner of the rite of Wazhinadee.

Then after his enemies had thought strongly for many days against him, Seha was seized with a strange weakness. His eyes lost their brightness, and he could not see far as before. All through the days and the nights he went about the village, crying for his lost power; and the people said: “The coyotes are barking in the hills.” They could not see him for the mist that the terrible rite had cast about him.

Then Seha wandered out on the prairie, wailing as ever for his lost power. And after many days, he laid himself down by a stream to die. But he did not die. He slept; and the vision came again. When he awoke, he was strong again and his eyes could see far as before.

Then he said: “I will cleanse myself in the stream and go back to my people, for I am strong again.”

But lo! as he leaned over the clear stream, he beheld the reflected image of an eagle far above him. Now a medicine man can change himself at will into anything that walks or crawls or flies or is still; and as Seha watched the eagle, he knew that it was Ebahamba!

So gliding into the stream, he quickly changed himself into a great fish floundering temptingly upon the surface. The eagle, which was Ebahamba, being hungry, swooped down upon the fish with wide beak and open talons.

In a moment, Seha changed himself into a huge boulder, against which the swooping bird dashed furiously, crushing its beak and talons. Then it arose, and with bloody wings, fluttered across the prairie.

Seha stepped out of his rock and laughed a loud, long laugh, and the eagle, which was Ebahamba, heard and knew.

So Seha returned to his village and was a great man among his people. But Ebahamba hid himself in his tepee; and a rumour ran that his arms were broken and his face crushed.

And there was much wonder in the village!