IT was summertime in the mountains—that short, passionate burst of warm life between the long seasons of the snow. The world lay panting in the white light of the sun, over gorge and pine-clad hill floated streamers of haze, and along the ground slanted thin, blue shadows. The sky pulsed in ether waves and the distant peaks, azure also, with traceries of silver, were as dim as the memory of a dream. In this untrodden wilderness the passing years have left no record save in the gradual growth of forest trees, and in its rugged beauty it is the same as a century ago. Therefore time itself seems arrested, and it is scarcely strange to come upon a buffalo skull naked and bleached by sun and rain, and close by, half hidden in the loose rocks, an arrow head of pure, black obsidian.

This, then, was once the scene of a brave chase when wind-swift Indians pursued mad, hurtling herds over mountain slope and plain. These empty fastnesses thrilled to the shock of thousands of beating hoofs, these hills flung back the echo to the brooding silence as the black tide flowed on, pressed by deadly huntsmen armed with barb and bow. And even then, far over the horizon, unseen by hunted and hunters, silent as the shadow of a cloud, inevitable as destiny, came the White Race, moving swifter than either one, driving them unawares toward the great abyss where they should vanish forever into the Happy Hunting Ground, lighted by perpetual Summer and peopled by immortal herds and tribes.

II

In such a remote and deserted place as this, no great effort of the imagination is needed to call up the shades of those who once inhabited it, to react their part in the tragedy of progress. Let us fancy that a riper, richer glow is upon the mountains, that the white light of the sun has deepened into an amber flood which quivers between the arch of lapis-lazuli sky and the warm, balsam-scented earth that sighs forth the life of the woods. Already the trees not of the evergreen kind are hung with bewilderingly gorgeous leaves of scarlet, russet-brown and yellowing green; the haze has grown denser and its ghostly presence insinuates itself among the very needles of the pines. It is Autumn. The gush of life has reached its climax and is ebbing. High on the steepled mountains is a wreath of filmy white that trails low in the ravines. It seems as fragile as a bridal veil, but it is the foreword of Winter which will soon descend with driving blast and piping gale, lancing sleet and enshrouding snow to chill the last red ember-glow of the brilliant autumnal days. It was at this time that the Indian's blood ran hot with longing for the hunt. Lodges were abandoned and only those too weak to stand the hardship of the march were left behind. Chiefs and braves, women and children struck out for the haunts of the buffalo where the fat herds grazed before the impending cold.

These children of the forest sought their prey with the woodcraft handed down from old to young through unnumbered generations. Indeed, it was necessary for them to outwit the game by strategy in the early days before the wealthy and progressive Nez PercÉ Kayuses, who were first to break the wild horses of the western plains, brought the domesticated pony among them. In passing, it is interesting to know that the term "cayuse" applied to all Indian horses, had its origin with this tribe, since the chief article of trade of the Kayuses was the horse, the horse of Indian commerce became known as a "cayuse." The Selish used the method of the stockade. After the march into the buffalo country, they camped in a spot where they could easily fashion an enclosed park by means of barricades built among the trees. A great council of the chiefs and warriors was held and this august body appointed a company of braves to guard the camp and prevent any person from leaving its boundaries lest in so doing the wily buffalo should become alarmed and quit the neighbouring hills. The council proclaimed anew the ancient laws of the chase, and then began the building of the pen. This was a kind of communal work in which the entire tribe engaged, and as all contributed labor so all should benefit alike from its fruits. There within the mock park, whose pleasant green fringe of trees was in reality a prison wall, would be trapped and killed the food for the sterile winter months, when, but for that bounty, starvation would stalk gaunt among them and lay the strongest warrior as low as a new born babe or the feebly old who totter on the threshold of death. The place chosen for the pen was a level glade and the enclosure was built with a single opening facing a cleft in the surrounding hills. From this opening, an avenue also cunningly fenced and gradually widening towards the hills, was constructed, so that the animals driven thither, could escape neither to the right nor the left, but must needs plunge into the imprisoning park.

Next came the election of the Master of Ceremonies, the Lord of the Pen. He was a man seasoned with experience, mighty with the knowledge of occult things—one of the Wah-Kon, Medicine Men or jugglers, who possessed the power of communicating with the Great Spirit. This high functionary determined the crucial moment when the hunt should begin, and when the buffalo, roused from the inertia of grazing, should be driven into the snare. In the center of the clearing he posted the "medicine-mast," made potent by three charms, "a streamer of scarlet cloth two or three yards long, a piece of tobacco and a buffalo horn," which were supposed to entice the animals to their doom. It was he who, in the early dawn, aroused the sleeping camp with the beating of his drum and the chanting of incantations; who conferred with the great Manitous of the buffalo to divine when the time for the chase had come.

Under the Grand Master were four swift runners who penetrated into the surrounding country to find where the buffalo were browsing and to assist by material observation the promptings of the spirits of the hunt. They were provided by the Grand Master with a Wah-Kon ball of skin stuffed with hair, and when the herds were found in a favourable spot and the wind blew from the direction of the animals to the pen, one of the runners, breathless with haste, bearing in his hand the magic ball, appeared before the Grand Master and proclaimed the joyful news. There was a mighty beating of the Grand Master's drum, and out of the lodges ran the excited people, all bent with concentrated energy upon the approaching sport. Every horseman mounted, and those less fortunate armed themselves and took their positions in two lines extending from the entrance to the enclosure toward the open, separating more widely as the distance from the pen increased, thus forming a V shape with but a narrow gateway where the lines converged.

Then through the silent, human barricade rode the bravest of the braves, astride the fleetest horse and he went unarmed, always against the wind, enveloped in a buffalo skin which hung down over his mount. All was quiet. Only the light Autumn wind flowing through the trees carried the curious, crisp, cropping noise of thousands of iron-strong jaws tearing the lush, green grass. And as the rider came upon the crest of the hill and looked at the panorama of waving verdure peopled by multitudes of bison stretching far away across the meadows and over the rolling ground beyond, it must have been a sight to quicken the pulses and stir the blood. Suddenly there sounded a prolonged and distressing cry—the cry of a buffalo calf which wailed shrilly for a moment, then ceased. It came from the brave alone in the open, shrouded in the buffalo hide.

There was a movement in the herd. Every heavily maned head rose, and quivering nostrils snuffed the running wind. At first the buffalo advanced slowly, as if in doubt; gradually their pace quickened to a trot, a gallop, then lo! the whole vast band came hurtling and lurching in its furious career like the swells of a tempestuous, black sea, breaking into angry waves at every shock. And from those deep throats came a mighty roar, ponderous and resonant as the thunder of the surf.

Still the cry of the calf reverberated and re-echoed, and the single horseman crouching beneath his masquerade, led the herd on and on, eluding their onslaught, luring them forward between the lines of his companions who stood silent, trembling with eagerness for the sport. Then pell-mell the mounted hunters rushed out from cover and the wide extremes of the V shaped line closed in so that the horsemen were behind the herd. This done, the wind blowing toward the corral, took the scent of the Indians to the buffalo. Pandemonium reigned. Men, women and children on foot, leaped out from their hiding places with demoniac yells, brandishing spears, hurling stones and shooting arrows from their bows. The stampeded animals, surrounded save for the one loophole ahead, plunged into the pen. The chase was over and the slaughter began. The tribe would live well that Winter-time!

Among the Omawhaws of the first part of the last century, the hunt was preceded by much preparation and ceremony. Generally by the month of June their stores of jerked buffalo meat were well-nigh exhausted, and the little crops of maize, pumpkins, beans and water-melons, with the yield of the small hunting parties pursuing beaver, otter, elk, deer and other game, were scarcely sufficient to fill the wants of the tribe. So, after the harvesting and trading were done, the chiefs called a council and ordered a feast to be held in the lodge of one of the most distinguished of their number, to which all hunters, warriors and chiefs should be invited. Accordingly the squaws of the chosen host were commanded by him to make ready the choicest maize and the plumpest dog for the ceremonial board. When all was in readiness the host called two or three venerable criers to his lodge. He smoked the calumet with them, then whispered that they should go through the village proclaiming the feast and bidding the guests whom he named. He instructed the criers to "speak in a loud voice and tell them to bring their bowls and spoons." They sallied forth singing among the lodges, calling to the distinguished personages to come to the banquet. After these summons the criers went back to the lodge of the host, quickly followed by the guests who were seated according to their rank. The ceremony of smoking was performed first, then the Head Chief arose, thanked his braves for coming and explained to them the object of the assembly, which was the selection of a hunting ground and the appointment of a time to start. After him the others spoke, each giving his opinion frankly, but always careful to be respectful of the opinions of others.

Neither squaws nor children were suffered to be present. The criers tended the kettle and when the speech-making was done, one dipped out a ladle of soup, held it toward the North, South, East and West, and cast it into the ashes of the fire. He also flung a bit of the best part of the meat into the flame as a sacrifice to Wahconda, the Great Spirit. The guests then received their portions, the excellence of which depended upon their rank. The feast closed as it began, with the smoking of the calumet and at its conclusion the criers went forth again, chanting loud songs in praise of the generosity of the host, enumerating the chiefs and warriors who partook of his bounty, finally proclaiming the decision of the council and announcing the time and place of the hunt. This was an occasion of great rejoicing. The squaws at once began to mend the clothing and the weapons of their lords and pack their goods; and the young braves, gay with paint and bright raiment, beguiled the hours with gaming and dancing in the presence of the chiefs.

When the day of the journey arrived the whole community departed, the chiefs and wealthy warriors on horseback, the poorer folk afoot. Sometimes the quest of the buffalo was prolonged over weary weeks, and a meager diet of Pomme blanche or ground-apple, was insufficient to stay the pangs of hunger that assailed the tribe. The hunters preceded the main body, carefully reconnoitering the country for bison or foes. When at length herds were discovered, the hunters threw up their robes as a signal, the tribe halted and the advance party returned to report. They were received with pomp and dignity by the chiefs and medicine men who sat before the people solemnly smoking and offering articulate thanks to Wahconda. In a low voice the hunters informed the dignitaries of the presence of buffalo. These mighty personages, in turn, questioned the huntsmen as to the numbers and respective distances of the herds, and they replied by illustrating with small sticks the relative positions of the bands.

An old man of high standing then addressed the people, telling them that the coveted game at length was nigh, and that on the morrow they would be rewarded for the long fast and fatigue.

That night a council was held and a corps of stout warriors elected to keep order. These officers painted themselves black, wore the crow and were armed with war-clubs in order that they might enforce the mandates of the council and preserve due decorum among the excited tribe folk.

Early in the morning the hunters on horseback, carrying only bows and arrows and the warriors provided with war-clubs, led by the pipe-bearer who bore the sacred calumet, advanced on foot. Once in view of the splendid, living masses covering the green plains as with a giant sable robe, they halted for the pipe-bearer, the representative of the Magi, to perform the propitiatory rite of smoking. He lighted his calumet of red, baked clay, bowed his head in silence, then held the stem in the direction of the herds. After this he smoked, exhaling the aromatic clouds towards the buffalo, the heavens, the earth and the four points of the compass, called by them the "sunrise, sunset, cold country and warm country," or by the collective term of the "four winds." At the completion of this ceremony the head chief gave the signal and the huntsmen charged upon their prey.

From this point their methods were somewhat the same as those of the Selish, except that instead of building a stockade, they, themselves, enclosed the herd in a living circle, pressing closer and closer upon it until the killing was complete. This surrounding hunt was called Ta-wan-a-sa.

The chase was the grand event, the test of horsemanship, of archery, of fine game-craft and often the opportunity for glory on the war-path as well—for where the buffalo abounded there lurked the hidden enemy, also seeking the coveted herds, and an encounter meant battle to the death. Both ponies and hunters were trained to the ultimate perfection of skill and the favoured buffalo horse served no other purpose than to bear his master in the chase. As the cavalcade descended upon the startled game, the rider caressed his faithful steed, called him "father," "brother," "uncle," conjured him not to fear the angry beasts yet not to be too bold lest he be hurt by goring horns and stamping hoofs, and urged him with honeyed speech to the full fruit of his strength and cunning. And the horse, responding, flew with wingÉd stride, unguided by reins to the edge of the compact, fleeing band, never hesitating, never halting until the shoulder of the animal pursued, was exposed to the death-dealing shot. It was just behind the shoulder blade that the huntsman sought to strike. The inclination of his body in one direction or another was sufficient to send the horse speeding after fresh prey.

The hunters, themselves, scorned danger and knew not fear. If they were uncertain how deep the arrow had penetrated they rode close to the infuriated brute to examine the nature of the shot, and if necessary to shoot again. And even though in the grand melÉe, a single animal was often pierced with many arrows, there were seldom quarrels as to whom the quarry belonged, so nicely could they reckon the value of the different shots and determine which had dealt the most speedy death.

Onward and onward they sped, circling and advancing at once, like a whirlwind on the face of the prairie. At length, the darting riders were seen more and more vividly as they compressed their line about the routed band, until finally, only a heap of carcasses lay where the herd had been. Then the tribe came upon the scene. The squaws cut and packed the meat. If a hunter were unfortunate and killed no game, he helped dissect the buffalo of a lucky rival. On completion of his task he stuck his knife in the portion of the meat he desired and it was given to him as compensation for his labor.

Someone, either by order of the chief or of his own free will, presented his kill to the Medicine for a feast. There was great revelry and joy, dancing and eating of marrow bones, to celebrate the aftermath of the royal sport.

III

Although the meat of the buffalo was the Indians' chief article of food, this was by no means the only bond between the red man and the aboriginal herds of the plains. Besides the almost innumerable utilitarian purposes for which the different parts of the animals were used, there was scarcely a phase of life or a ceremony in which they did not figure. In the dance, a rite of the first importance, in the practice of the Wah-Kon, or medicine, in the legends of the creation and the after-death, the buffalo had his place. Such lore might make a quaint and curious volume, but we shall consider only the more striking uses and traditions of the bison in their relation to the life of the early West.

The buffalo was, in truth, the great political factor among the tribes; nearly all of the bitter warfare between nation and nation was for no other purpose than to maintain or gain the right to hunt in favourable fields. Thus the Judith Basin, the region of the Musselshell and many other haunts of the herds, became also battle fields of bloodshed and death. Not only did the bison cause hostilities among the nations, but they were likewise the reason of internal strife. It is said that the Assiniboines, or Sioux of the Mountains, separated from the main body of the tribe on account of a dispute between the wives of two rival chiefs, each of whom persisted in having for her portion the entire heart of a fine bison slain in the chase. This was the beginning of a feud which split the nation into independent, antagonistic tribes.

The utmost economy was generally observed by the early Indians in the use of the buffalo. Each part of the animal served some particular purpose. The tongue, the hump and the marrow bones of the thighs were considered the greatest delicacies. The animals killed for meat were almost always cows, for the flesh of buffalo bulls could be eaten only during the months of May and June.

Among the Omawhaws of nearly two centuries ago, all the meat save the hump and chosen parts reserved for immediate use, was cut into "large, thin slices" and either dried by the heat of the sun or "jerked over a slow fire on a low scaffold." After being thoroughly cured it was compressed into "quadrangular packages" of a convenient size to carry on a pack saddle. The small intestines were carefully cleaned and turned inside out to preserve the outer coating of fat, then dried and woven into a kind of mat. These mats were packed into parcels of the same shape and size as the meat. Even the muscular coating of the stomach was preserved. The large intestines were stuffed with flesh and used without delay. The vertebrae were pulverized with a stone axe after which the crushed bone was boiled. The very rich grease that arose to the surface was skimmed and preserved in bladders for future use. The stomach and bladder were filled with this and other sorts of fat, or converted into water bottles. All of the cured meat was cached, in French-Canadian phrase, until hunger drove the Indians to draw upon these stores.

The pemmican of song and history was a kind of hash made by toasting buffalo meat, then pulverizing it to a fine consistency with a stone hammer. Mr. James Mooney in the Fourteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, describes the process as follows; "In the old times a hole was dug in the ground and a buffalo hide was staked over so as to form a skin dish, into which the meat was thrown to be pounded. The hide was that from the neck of the buffalo, the toughest part of the skin, the same used for shields, and the only part which would stand the wear and tear of the hammers. In the meantime the marrow bones are split up and boiled in water until all the grease and oil comes to the top, when it is skimmed off and poured over the pounded beef. As soon as the mixture cools, it is sewed up into skin bags (not the ordinary painted parflÉche cases) and laid away until needed. It was sometimes buried or otherwise cached. Pemmican thus prepared will keep indefinitely. When prepared for immediate use, it is usually sweetened with sugar, mesquite pods, or some wild fruit mixed and beaten up with it in the pounding. It is extremely nourishing, and has a very agreeable taste to one accustomed to it. On the march it was to the prairie Indian what parched corn was to the hunter of the timber tribes, and has been found so valuable as a condensed nutriment that it is extensively used by arctic travellers and explorers. A similar preparation is used upon the pampas of South America and in the desert region of South Africa, while the canned beef of commerce is an adaptation from the Indian idea. The name comes from the Cree language, and indicates something mixed with grease or fat. (Lacombe.)"

Among the Sioux at Pine Ridge and Rosebud, in the ceremony of the Ghost Dance, pemmican was celebrated in the sacred songs. Mr. Mooney gives the translation of one of them:

Though at first the main object for which the buffalo was hunted was the flesh, next in importance and afterwards foremost, was the hide made into the buffalo robe of commerce. Since these robes played such an important part in the early traffic and were partly responsible for the annihilation of the bison, it is worth while to consider how they were procured and treated. The skins to be dressed were taken in the early Spring while the fur was long, thick and luxuriant. Those obtained in the Autumn called "Summer skins" were used only in the making of lodges, clothing, and for other domestic purposes. To the squaws was assigned the preparation of the hides as well as the cutting and curing of the meat. Immediately after the hunt while in the "green" state the skins were stretched and dried. After this, they were taken to the village and subjected to a process of curing which was carried on during the leisure of the women. The hide was nearly always cut down the center of the back so that it could be more easily manipulated. The two parts were then spread upon the ground and scraped with a tool like an adze until every particle of flesh was removed. In this way all unnecessary thickness was obviated and the hide was made light and pliable. When the skin had been reduced to the proper thinness a dressing made of the liver and brains of the animal were spread over it. This mixture was allowed to dry and the same process was repeated save that in the second instance while the hide was wet it was stretched in a frame, carefully scraped with pumice stone, sharp-edged rocks or a kind of hoe, until it was dry. To make it as flexible as possible, it was then drawn back and forth over twisted sinew. The parts were sewed together with sinew and the buffalo robe was ready for the trader's hands.

As early as 1819 these robes were in great demand and one trader reported that in a single year he shipped fifteen thousand to St. Louis.

In the everyday life of the Indians the products of the buffalo yielded nearly every comfort and necessity. The hides were used not only for robes and portable lodges which furnished shelter on the march, but they were made into battle shields; upon their tanned surface the primitive artist traced his painted record of the chase, the fray, or the mystic medicine. They were laid upon the earth for the young braves to play their endless games of chance upon, and the wounded were taken from the field on stretchers of buffalo hides swung between a pair of ponies. From them two kinds of boats were made. One, described by James in his account of the journey of his party in 1819-20 is as follows:

"Our heavy baggage was ferried across in a portable canoe, consisting of a single bison hide, which we carried constantly with us. Its construction was extremely simple; the margin of the hide being pierced with several small holes, admits a cord, by which it is drawn into the form of a shallow basin. This is placed upon the water, and is kept sufficiently distended by the baggage which it receives; it is then towed or pushed across. A canoe of this kind will carry from four to five hundred pounds." The second variety, known as a "bull-boat," was made of willows woven into a round basket and lined with buffalo hide.

The grease of these beasts was used to anoint the Indians' bodies and to season the maize or corn.

From the horns were made spoons, sometimes holding half a pint, and often ornamented upon the handles with curious carving.

The shoulder blade fastened to a stick served for a hoe or a plow.

From the hide of unborn buffalo calves bags were made to contain the war-paint of braves.

It would be at once possible and profitable to continue enumerating the practical uses of the buffalo, but far more interesting than these facts were the ceremonies, superstitions and traditions in which they were bound up.

Perhaps, first among the rites in sacred significance and solemn dignity was the smoking of the calumet. This was supposed to be not only an expression of peace among men and nations, but a propitiatory offering to the Manitous, or guardian spirits, and to the Master of Life.

According to Colonel Mallory in the Tenth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, the Sioux believed that this supreme emblem of good will was brought to them by a white buffalo cow, in the old days when the different bands of the nation were torn with internal strife. During this period of hostility a beautiful white buffalo cow appeared, bearing a pipe and four grains of corn, each of a different colour. From the milk which dripped from her body, sprang the living corn, so from the beginning the grain and the buffalo meat were decreed to be the food of the Indians. She gave to the rival factions, the pipe which was the sacred calumet, instructing them that it was the symbol of peace among men and he who smoked it with his fellows, by that act sealed the bond of brotherhood. After staying for awhile among the grateful people, and teaching them to call her "Grandmother," which is a term of affectionate reverence among the Indians, she led them to plentiful herds of her own kind and vanished into the spiritland whence she came.

The odour of the buffalo was believed to be agreeable to the Great Spirit so that the tobacco or kinnikinick of the calumet was flavoured with animal's excrement in order that the aroma wafted upward might be most pleasing. This custom of flavouring the pipe with the scent of the buffalo was carefully observed by the Pawnee Loups of the olden time, a tribe which claimed descent from the ancient Mexicans, in the awful ceremonies preceding a human sacrifice to Venus, the "Great Star." Upon this austere occasion four great buffalo skulls were placed within the lodge where the celebration was held and they were offered the sacred nawishkaro or calumet. The bodies of their chiefs or those who died gloriously in war were robed in buffalo skins, furnished with food and weapons, and placed sitting upright, in a little lodge near a route of travel or a camp in order that the passers by might see that they had met their death with honour. The Pawnees also used bison skulls as signals, and we find in James' Travels this interesting account:

"At a little distance in front of the entrance of this breastwork, was a semi-circular row of sixteen bison skulls, with their noses pointing down the river. Near the center of the circle which this row would describe if continued, was another skull marked with a number of red lines.

"Our interpreter informed us that this arrangement of skulls and other marks here discovered, were designed to communicate the following information, namely, that the camp had been occupied by a war party of the Pawnee Loup Indians, who had lately come from an excursion against the Cumancias, Tetans or some of the Western tribes. The number of red lines traced on the painted skull indicated the number of the party to have been thirty-six; the position in which the skulls were placed, that they were on their return to their own country. Two small rods stuck in the ground, with a few hairs tied in two parcels to the end of each signified that four scalps had been taken."

There are many other similar instances recorded by different adventurers who braved the early West, yet this was but one of numerous uses of buffalo skulls and heads. Among the Aricaras upon each lodge was a trophy of the war path or the chase composed of strangely painted buffalo heads topped with all kinds of weapons.

There was a curious belief among the Minitarees that the bones of the buffalo killed in the chase became rehabilitated with flesh and lived again, to be hunted the following year. In support of this superstition they had a legend that once upon a time on a great hunt a boy of the tribe was lost. His people gave him up for dead but the succeeding season a huge bison was slain and when the body was opened the boy stepped out alive and well. He related to his dumbfounded companions, how the year before, he had become separated from them as he pursued a splendid bull. He felled his game with an arrow, but so far had he gone that it was too late to overtake and rejoin the tribe before nightfall. Therefore, he cut into the bison's body, removed a portion of the intestines and feeling the keen frost of evening upon his unsheltered body, sought warmth within the carcass. But, lo! when the boy awakened the buffalo was whole again and he was a prisoner within his whilom prey!

The Gros Ventres, in the day of Lewis and Clark, thought that if the head of the slain buffalo were treated well, the living herd would come in plentiful numbers to yield an abundance of meat.

Of the many bands into which the Omawhaw nation was divided there were two, the Ta-pa-eta-je and the Ta-sin-da, bison tail, which had the buffalo for their medicine. The first of these were sworn to abstain from touching buffalo heads, and the second were forbidden the flesh of the calves until the young animals were more than one year old. If these vows were broken by a member of the band and the sacred pledge so violated, a judgment such as blindness, white hair or disease was believed to be sent upon the offender. Even should one innocently transgress the law, a visitation of sickness was accounted his condign portion and not only he but his family were included in the wrath and punishment of the outraged Manitous.

The Crow Indians, Up-sa-ro-ka, or Absaroka, used the buffalo as a part of their great medicine. An early traveller, Dougherty, describes an extraordinary "arrangement of the magi." In his own words, "the upper portion of a cottonwood tree was emplanted with its base in the earth, and around it was a sweat house, the upper part of the top of the tree arising through the roof. A gray bison skin, extended with oziers on the inside so as to exhibit a natural appearance, was suspended above the house, and on the branches were attached several pairs of children's moccasins and leggings, and from one limb of the tree, a very large fan made of war-eagles' feathers was dependent."

This leads to an interesting superstition of the Indians, which was that any variation in the usual colour of the buffalo was caused by the special interference of the Master of Life, and a beast so distinguished from his kind was venerated religiously, much as the ancient Egyptians worshipped the sacred bull. Once a "grayish-white" bison was seen and upon another occasion a calf with white forefeet and a white frontal mark. An early traveller once saw in an Indian lodge, the head of a buffalo perfectly preserved, which was marked by a white star. The man to whom it belonged treasured it as his medicine, nor would he part with it at any price.

"'The herds come every season,' he said, 'into the vicinity to seek their white-faced companion!'"

Maximilian, in his Travels in North America, gives an interesting description of the martial and sacred significance of the robes of white buffalo cows among the Mandans and Minitarees. He says that the brave who has never possessed this emblem is without honour, and the merest youth who has obtained it ranks above the most venerable patriarch who has never owned the precious hide. Indeed, "of all the distinctions of any man the white buffalo hide" was supreme. As the white buffalo were extremely rare it was seldom a hunter killed one for himself. The robes were brought by other tribes, often from far distant parts of the country, to the Mandans who traded from ten to fifteen horses for a perfect specimen. It was necessary for the hide to be that of a young cow not more than two years old, and it had to be cured "with the horns, nose, hoofs and tail" complete, In Maximilian's words: "The Mandans have peculiar ceremonies at the dedication of the hide. As soon as they have obtained it they engage an eminent medicine man, who must throw it over him; he then walks around the village in the apparent direction of the sun's course, and sings a medicine song. When the owner, after collecting articles of value for three or four years, desires to offer his treasure to the lord of life, or to the first man, he rolls it up, after adding some wormwood or a head of maize, and the skin then remains suspended on a high pole till it rots away. At the time of my visit there was such an offering at Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush, near the stages for the dead without the village. Sometimes, when the ceremony of dedication is finished, the hide is cut into small strips, and the members of the family wear parts of it tied over the head, or across the forehead, when they are in full dress. If a Mandan kills a young white buffalo cow it is accounted to him as more than an exploit, or having killed an enemy. He does not cut up the animal himself, but employs another man, to whom he gives a horse for his trouble. He alone who has killed such an animal is allowed to wear a narrow strip of the skin in his ears. The whole robe is not ornamented, being esteemed superior to any other dress, however fine. The traders have, sometimes, sold such hides to the Indians, who gave them as many as sixty other robes in exchange. Buffalo skins with white spots are likewise highly valued by the Mandans; but there is a race of these animals with very soft, silky hair, which has a beautiful gold lustre when in the sunshine; these are, likewise, highly prized."

There are numerous myths of a white buffalo cow, who at will, assumed the form of a beautiful maiden.

The Sioux in common with the Aricaras and the Minitarees observed the custom of fasting before going to war or upon the hunt. They had a "medicine lodge," where a buffalo robe was spread and a red painted post was planted. Upon the top of the lodge was tied a buffalo calf skin holding various sacred objects. After preliminary rites they tortured themselves, one favorite method being to make a gash under their shoulder blades, run cords through the wounds and drag two large bison heads to a hill about a mile distant from their village, where they danced until they fell fainting with exhaustion.

Some of the tribes performed the Ta-nuguh-wat-che, or bison dance. The participants were painted black, wore a head dress made of the skin of a buffalo head which was cut after the fashion of a cap. It was adjusted in a manner to resemble a live animal, and extending from this head dress, over the half-naked and blackened bodies of the dancers, depended a long strip of hide from the back of the buffalo which hung down like a tail.

The Omawhaws believed that the Great Wahconda appeared sometimes in the shape of a bison bull and they, like other tribes, cherished legends of a fabulous age when animals spoke together, did battle and possessed intelligence equal to that of men. The following myth of the bison bull, the ant and the tortoise, related by James, is an interesting example of these fables:

Once upon a time an ant, a tortoise and a buffalo bull formed themselves into a war party and determined to attack the village of an enemy in the vicinity. They decided in council that the tortoise being sluggish and slow of movement, should start in advance and the ant and bull should time their departure so as to overtake him on the way. This plan was adopted and the awkward tortoise floundered forth on his hostile mission alone. In due time the bison bull took the ant upon his back, lest on account of his minuteness he be lost, and together they set out for the enemy's country. At length they came to a treacherous bog where they found the poor tortoise struggling vainly to free himself. This caused the ant and the bull much merriment as they crossed safely to solid ground. But the tortoise, scorning to ask the aid of his brothers in war, replied cheerfully to their taunts and insisted that he would meet them at the hostile village.

The ant and the bison advanced with noise and bravado and the watchful enemy perceiving them, issued from their lodges and wounded both, driving them to headlong, inglorious retreat.

Finally the tortoise with sore travail, reached his destination to find his companions flown, and because he could not flee also, he fell into the hands of the foe—a prisoner. These cruel people decided to put him to death at once. They threatened him with slow roasting in red coals of fire, with boiling and many awful tortures, but the astute tortoise expressed his willingness to suffer any of these penalties. Therefore the enemy consulted together again and held over his head the fate of drowning. Against this he protested with such frenzied vehemence that his captors immediately executed the sentence, and bearing him to a deep part of the river which flowed through their country, flung him in. Thus restored to his native element he plunged to the bottom of the stream, then arose to the surface to see his enemies gaping from the bank in expectation of his agony. He grabbed several of them, dragged them down and killed them, and appeared once more triumphantly displaying their scalps to the bewildered multitude of thwarted warriors who were helpless to avenge their brethren. The tortoise, satisfied with his achievement, returned to his home where he found the ant and the bull prone upon the floor of the lodge, wounded, humbled and fordone.

Finally, the Minitarees and other tribes had a curious legend of their origin. They believed that their forefathers once dwelt in dark, subterranean caverns, beyond a great, swift-running river. Two youths disappeared from amongst them and after a short absence returned to proclaim that they had found a land lighted by an orb which warmed the earth to fecundity, where deep waters shimmered crystal white and countless herds of bison covered grass and flower-decked plains. So the youths led the people up out of the primal darkness into the pleasant valleys where they dwelt evermore. And as the bison were celebrated in this child-like tradition of the Beginning, so likewise, did they figure in the primitive conception of the hereafter. That region of Summer where the good Indian should find repose, was pictured as an ideal country, fair with verdure and rich with herds of buffalo which the good spirits would go seeking through the golden vistas of eternity.

IV

When the first explorers penetrated the fastnesses of the New World the buffalo was lord of the continent. Coronado on his march northward from Mexico saw hordes of these unknown beasts which a chronicler of 1600 described naÏvely as "crooked-backed oxen." The mighty herds roamed through the blue grass of Kentucky, the Carolinas, that region now the state of New York, and probably every favorable portion of North America. Very gradually they were pushed farther and farther westward to the vicinity of the Rocky Mountains, which was for many years their refuge and retreat. In 1819 the official expedition sent by John C. Calhoun to examine the Rocky Mountains, their tribes, animal and plant life, found the buffalo reduced in numbers, though in the wild stretches of country lying South along the Arkansas, they were seen in countless hordes. The report says:

"During these few days past, the bisons have occurred in vast and almost continuous herds, and in such infinite numbers as seemed to indicate the great bend of the Arkansas as their chief and general rendezvous."

The account continues to narrate how the scent of the white men borne to the farthest animal, a distance of two miles, started the multitudes speeding away, and yet so limitless were those millions, that, day after day, they flowed past like a sea until their presence became as a part of the landscape, and by night their thunderous bellow echoed through the savage wastes.

In Bradbury's Travels there is a description of a fight among buffalo bulls. He says:

"On my return to the boats, as the wind had in some degree abated, we proceeded and had not gone more than five or six miles before we were surprised by a dull, hollow sound, the cause of which we could not possibly imagine. It seemed to be one or two miles below us; but as our descent was rapid, it increased every moment in loudness, and before we had proceeded far, our ears were able to catch some distinct tones, like the bellowing of buffaloes. When opposite to the place from whence it proceeded, we landed, ascended the bank, and entered a small skirting of trees and shrubs, that separated the river from an extensive plain. On gaining a view of it, such a scene opened to us as will fall to the lot of few travellers to witness. This plain was literally covered with buffaloes as far as we could see, and we soon discovered that it consisted in part of females. The males were fighting in every direction, with a fury which I have never seen paralleled, each having singled out his antagonist. We judged that the number must have amounted to some thousands, and that there were many hundreds of these battles going on at the same time, some not eighty yards from us. The noise occasioned by the trampling and bellowing was far beyond description."

At that time the bison paths were like well trodden roadways and served as such to the explorers. These paths always led by most direct routes to fresh water, and therefore were of the greatest assistance to travellers unacquainted with the undiscovered lands. Such were the legions of the plains even when the East had refused them shelter. And although it was roughly estimated that the tribes dwelling along the Missouri River killed yearly 100,000 for food, saddle covers and clothes, this did not appreciably lessen their hosts. Not until the white tide flowed faster and faster over the wilds was the doom of the buffalo sounded, together with that of the forests which sheltered them, and the Indians who were at once their foes and their friends.

Then the destruction was swift beyond belief. The royal game which Coronado saw in 1585, which Lewis and Clark in their adventurous journey into the unknown West encountered at every turn, was nearly gone. They endured in such numbers that as late as 1840 Father De Smet said:

"The scene realized in some sort the ancient tradition of the holy scriptures, speaking of the vast pastoral countries of the Orient, and of the cattle upon a thousand hills."

It was inconceivable to the Indians that civilization should wreak such utter desolation. They could not comprehend the passing of the mighty herds any more than they could appreciate the destruction of the forests or their own decline. They did not know that the railroad which traversed the highway of the plains between the East and West ran through miles upon miles of country whitened with buffalo bones; that veritably the prairies which had been the pasture of the herds were now become their graveyard—a graveyard of unburied dead. They did not know that armies of workingmen and settlers had drawn upon the buffalo for food and warmth, that the beasts had been harried and hunted North, South, East and West, sometimes legitimately, but too often in cruel, wanton sport, until, at last, it became an evident fact that they were visibly nearing their end. A kind of stampede possessed the terrified beasts. Their old haunts were usurped. Where the fostering forests had given them shelter, towns arose. Baffled and dismayed they fled, hither and thither, only to crash headlong within the range of the huntsman's gun. So they charged at random, ever pressed closer and closer to bay by the encroaching life which was their death.

About the year of 1883 it was known that the last thinned and vagrant remnant of the buffalo was virtually gone. Maddened into desperate bewilderment they had done an unprecedented thing. Instead of going northward as their habit had been since man first observed their kind, they turned and fled South. This was their end. The half-breeds of the Red River, the Sioux of the Missouri, and most relentless of all, the white hide-hunter, beset the wild, retreating band. Their greed spared neither beast that tottered with age, nor calf fresh from its mother's womb. All fell prey to the mastering greed of the lords of the great free land.

Upon the shores of the Cannonball River, so-called from the heaps of round stones upon its banks, on the edge of the Dakotas, the buffalo made their last stand. Driven to bay they stood and fell together, the latest offspring of a vanished race.

But the poor Indian, he who had shared the freedom of the continent with his horned friend, could not yet understand that the buffalo were gone—gone as the sheltering woods were going, even as he, himself, must go. Evolution is cruel as well as beneficent and there is a pang for each poor, lesser existence crushed out in the race, as there is joy in the survival of the strongest and best. And those who are superior to-day must themselves be superseded to-morrow and fall into the abysmal yesterday, mere stepping stones toward the Infinite. The Indians, knowing none of these things, became troubled and perplexed. In vain they sought the herds on their old-time hunting grounds, but only stark, bleached bones were there and they went back to their lodges, hungry, gaunt and wan.

In years past the buffalo had disappeared at intervals to unknown pastures, then returned multiplied and reinforced. Was it not possible that they had gone upon such a journey, perhaps to the ultimate North where the Old Man dwelt, to seek refuge in a mighty polar cave under his benign protection? So from their meager stores the Indians offered sacrifices of horses and other of their most valued possessions, to the Old Man, that he might drive the buffalo back to the deserted pasture lands near the Rocky Mountains.

"They are tired," said Long Tree of the Sioux, "with much running. They have had no rest. They have been chased and chased over the rocks and gravel of the prairie and their feet are sore, worn down, like those of a tender-footed horse. When the buffalo have rested and their feet have grown out again, they will return to us in larger numbers, stronger, with better robes and fatter than they ever were."

Still the years passed and the buffalo came not, and some there were who said that if the Old Man, the Great Spirit of the North, loved his children of the forest, he would not have left them to suffer so painfully and long.

Then out of dumb despair came sudden hope; out of the bitter silence sounded a Voice and a prophet came "preaching through the wilderness," even as John the Baptist had come, centuries ago, bringing a message of peace and the promise of salvation. This prophet was Wovoka, founder of the Ghost Dance religion, who arose in "the land of the setting sun," in the shadow of the Sierras. He told the wrapt people that when "the sun died" he went to heaven where he saw God, the spirits of those long dead and vast herds of revivified buffalo feeding in the pastures of the skies. Heaven would not be perfect to the Indian without the buffalo, and the red man, less jealous than ourselves of his paradise, was willing to share the bliss of immortality with his old-time companions of the plains. The tenets of the new creed were gentle, teaching peace, truth, honesty and universal brotherhood. Under the thrall of the Ghost Dance, devotees dropped to earth insensible and had visions of the spirit-world. Wovoka prophesied that at the appointed time the ghostly legions, led by a spirit captain, would descend from heaven, striking down the unbelievers and restoring to the Indians and the buffalo dominion over the earth.

With the awful desperation of a last hope the Indians leaped high into the Night surrounding them to grasp at a star—a star, alas! which proved to be but a will-o'-the-wisp set over a quagmire of death. Nothing seemed impossible to their excited fancy. Had not the white race killed the Christ upon a Cross of torture, and would he not come to earth again as an Indian, to gather his children together in everlasting happiness when the grass should be green with the Spring? Meantime they must dance, dance through the weary days and nights in order that the prophesy might be fulfilled.

An alarm spread through the country. What meant this frenzied dance of circling, whirling mystics who strained with wide eyes to look beyond the skies? An order came that the dance must cease. This decree was but human, the one which bade them dance they believed to be divine. And dance they did, wildly, madly, to the sharp time of musketry until the hurrying feet were stilled and the dancers lay cold and stark on the field of Wounded Knee. In all the annals of the Indians' tragic tale there is nothing more pitiful than this Dance of Death. The poor victims, together with the last hope of a despairing race, were buried at Wounded Knee, and the white man wrought his will.

Slowly and steadily the woods were laid low, inevitably the Indians retreated farther and farther back, closer pressed, routed as the buffalo had been. All hope of the return of the beloved herds left their hearts and they knew at last that they would find them only in those Elysian fields of perpetual summertime—the Happy Hunting Ground.

V

The sun set red behind the mountains. The shadows stole down, gray and mystical as ghosts. From afar the coyote's dolorous cry plained through the silence and the owl hooted dismally as he awakened at the approach of night. There in the pallid dusk lay the bleached skull and the arrowhead of black obsidian, mute reliques of the past. The royal buffalo is no more, the hunter that hurled the bolt is gone. We may find the inferior offspring of the one in city parks, of the other on ever-lessening reservations, but degeneracy is more pitiful than death, and the old, free herds that ranged the continent are past as the fleet-footed, strong-hearted tribes have vanished from the plains.

So the story of the two fallen races is told eloquently by this whitened skull on the hillside and the jet-black arrow head flung by the stilled red hand.