The White Buffalo Woman then spoke to the women, telling them that it was the work of their hands and the fruit of their bodies which kept the people alive. “You are from the mother earth,” she told them. “What you are doing is as great as what the warriors do.”
And therefore the sacred pipe is also something that binds men and women together in a circle of love. It is the one holy object in the making of which both men and women have a hand. The men carve the bowl and make the stem; the women decorate it with bands of colored porcupine quills. When a man takes a wife, they both hold the pipe at the same time and red trade cloth is wound around their hands, thus tying them together for life.
The White Buffalo Woman had many things for her Lakota sisters in her sacred womb bag—corn, wasna (pemmican), wild turnip. She taught them how to make the hearth fire. She filled a buffalo paunch with cold water and dropped a red-hot stone into it. “This way you shall cook the corn and the meat,” she told them.
The White Buffalo Woman also talked to the children, because they have an understanding beyond their years. She told them that what their fathers and mothers did was for them, that their parents could remember being little once, and that they, the children, would grow up to have little ones of their own. She told them: “You are the coming generation, that’s why you are the most important and precious ones. Some day you will hold this pipe and smoke it. Some day you will pray with it.”
She spoke once more to all the people: “The pipe is alive; it is a red being showing you a red life and a red road. And this is the first ceremony for which you will use the pipe. You will use it to keep the soul of a dead person, because through it you can talk to Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery Spirit. The day a human dies is always a sacred day. The day when the soul is released to the Great Spirit is another. Four women will become sacred on such a day. They will be the ones to cut the sacred tree—the can-wakan—for the sun dance.”
She told the Lakota that they were the purest among the tribes, and for that reason Tunkashila had bestowed upon them the holy chanunpa. They had been chosen to take care of it for all the Indian people on this turtle continent.
She spoke one last time to Standing Hollow Horn, the chief, saying, “Remember: this pipe is very sacred. Respect it and it will take you to the end of the road. The four ages of creation are in me; I am the four ages. I will come to see you in every generation cycle. I shall come back to you.”
The sacred woman then took leave of the people, saying: “Toksha ake wacinyanktin ktelo—I shall see you again.”
The people saw her walking off in the same direction from which she had come, outlined against the red ball of the setting sun. As she went, she stopped and rolled over four times. The first time, she turned into a black buffalo; the second into a brown one; the third into a red one; and finally, the fourth time she rolled over, she turned into a white female buffalo calf. A white buffalo is the most sacred living thing you could ever encounter.
The White Buffalo Woman disappeared over the horizon. Sometime she might come back. As soon as she had vanished, buffalo in great herds appeared, allowing themselves to be killed so that the people might survive. And from that day on, our relations, the buffalo, furnished the people with everything they needed—meat for their food, skins for their clothes and tipis, bones for their many tools.
—Told by Lame Deer at Winner, Rosebud Indian Reservation, South Dakota, 1967.
Two very old tribal pipes are kept by the Looking Horse family at Eagle Butte in South Dakota. One of them, made from a buffalo calf’s leg bone, too fragile and brittle with age to be used for smoking, is said to be the sacred pipe which the Buffalo Maiden brought to the people. “I know,” said Lame Deer. “I prayed with it once, long ago.”
The turtle continent is North America, which many Indian tribes regard as an island sitting on the back of a turtle.
John Fire Lame Deer was a famous Sioux “holy man,” grandson of the first Chief Lame Deer, a great warrior who fought Custer and died during a skirmish with General Miles. Lame Deer’s son, Archie, is carrying on his work as a medicine man and director of the sun dance.
[BLACKFOOT]
The horse was introduced to this continent by the Spaniards when they arrived in the middle of the sixteenth century. Within two centuries the horses had been acquired by almost every tribe and had transformed the Indians’ life. As there was no Indian word for horse, and it carried burdens like a dog, it was usually named Elk Dog, Spirit Dog, Sacred Dog, or Moose Dog.
In the days when people had only dogs to carry their bundles, two orphan children, a boy and his sister, were having a hard time. The boy was deaf, and because he could not understand what people said, they thought him foolish and dull-witted. Even his relatives wanted nothing to do with him. The name he had been given at birth, while his parents still lived, was Long Arrow. Now he was like a beaten, mangy dog, the kind who hungrily roams outside a camp, circling it from afar, smelling the good meat boiling in the kettles but never coming close for fear of being kicked. Only his sister, who was bright and beautiful, loved him.
Then the sister was adopted by a family from another camp, people who were attracted by her good looks and pleasing ways. Though they wanted her for a daughter, they certainly did not want the awkward, stupid boy. And so they took away the only person who cared about him, and the orphan boy was left to fend for himself. He lived on scraps thrown to the dogs and things he found on the refuse heaps. He dressed in remnants of skins and frayed robes discarded by the poorest people. At night he bedded down in a grass-lined dugout, like an animal in its den.
Eventually the game was hunted out near the camp that the boy regarded as his, and the people decided to move. The lodges were taken down, belongings were packed into rawhide bags and put on dog travois, and the village departed. “Stay here,” they told the boy. “We don’t want your kind coming with us.”
For two or three days the boy fed on scraps the people had left behind, but he knew he would starve if he stayed. He had to join his people, whether they liked it or not. He followed their tracks, frantic that he would lose them, and crying at the same time. Soon the sweat was running down his skinny body. As he was stumbling, running, panting, something suddenly snapped in his left ear with a sound like a small crack, and a worm-like substance came out of that ear. All at once on his left side he could hear birdsongs for the first time. He took this worm-like thing in his left hand and hurried on. Then there was a snap in his right ear and a worm-like thing came out of it, and on his right side he could hear the rushing waters of a stream. His hearing was restored! And it was razor sharp—he could make out the rustling of a tiny mouse in dry leaves a good distance away. The orphan boy laughed and was happy for the first time in his life. With renewed courage he followed the trail his people had made.
In the meantime the village had settled into its new place. Men were already out hunting. Thus the boy came upon Good Running, a kindly old chief, butchering a fat buffalo cow he had just killed. When the chief saw the boy, he said to himself, “Here comes that poor good-for-nothing boy. It was wrong to abandon him.” To the boy Good Running said: “Rest here, grandson, you’re sweaty and covered with dust. Here, have some tripe.”
The boy wolfed down the meat. He was not used to hearing and talking yet, but his eyes were alert and Good Running also noticed a change in his manner. “This boy,” the chief said to himself, “is neither stupid nor crazy.” He gave the orphan a piece of the hump meat, then a piece of liver, then a piece of raw kidney, and at last the very best kind of meat—a slice of tongue. The more the old man looked at the boy, the more he liked him. On the spur of the moment he said, “Grandson, I’m going to adopt you; there’s a place for you in my tipi. And I’m going to make you into a good hunter and warrior.” The boy wept, this time for joy. Good Running said, “They called you a stupid, crazy boy, but now that I think of it, the name you were given at birth is Long Arrow. I’ll see that people call you by your right nam
e. Now come along.”
The chief’s wife was not pleased. “Why do you put this burden on me,” she said, “bringing into our lodge this good-for-nothing, this slow-witted crazy boy? Maybe you’re a little slow-witted and crazy yourself!”
“Woman, keep talking like that and I’ll beat you! This boy isn’t slow or crazy; he’s a good boy, and I have taken him for my grandson. Look—he’s barefooted. Hurry up, and make a pair of moccasins for him, and if you don’t do it well I’ll take a stick to you.”
Good Running’s wife grumbled but did as she was told. Her husband was a kind man, but when aroused, his anger was great.
So a new life began for Long Arrow. He had to learn to speak and to understand well, and to catch up on all the things a boy should know. He was a fast learner and soon surpassed other boys his age in knowledge and skills. At last even Good Running’s wife accepted him.
He grew up into a fine young hunter, tall and good-looking in the quilled buckskin outfit the chief’s wife made for him. He helped his grandfather in everything and became a staff for Good Running to lean on. But he was lonely, for most people in the camp could not forget that Long Arrow had once been an outcast. “Grandfather,” he said one day, “I want to do something to make you proud and show people that you were wise to adopt me. What can I do?”
Good Running answered, “Someday you will be a chief and do great things.”
“But what’s a great thing I could do now, Grandfather?”
The chief thought for a long time. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said. “I love you and don’t want to lose you. But on winter nights, men talk of powerful spirit people living at the bottom of a faraway lake. Down in that lake the spirit people keep mystery animals who do their work for them. These animals are larger than a great elk, but they carry the burdens of the spirit people like dogs. So they’re called Pono-Kamita—Elk Dogs. They are said to be swift, strong, gentle, and beautiful beyond imagination. Every fourth generation, one of our young warriors has gone to find these spirit folk and bring back an Elk Dog for us. But none of our brave young men has ever returned.”
“Grandfather, I’m not afraid. I’ll go and find the Elk Dog.”
“Grandson, first learn to be a man. Learn the right prayers and ceremonies. Be brave. Be generous and open-handed. Pity the old and the fatherless, and let the holy men of the tribe find a medicine for you which will protect you on your dangerous journey. We will begin by purifying you in the sweat bath.”
So Long Arrow was purified with the white steam of the sweat lodge. He was taught how to use the pipe, and how to pray to the Great Mystery Power. The tribe’s holy men gave him a medicine and made for him a shield with designs on it to ward off danger.
Then one morning, without telling anybody, Good Running loaded his best travois dog with all the things Long Arrow would need for traveling. The chief gave him his medicine, his shield, and his own fine bow and, just as the sun came up, went with his grandson to the edge of the camp to purify him with sweet-smelling cedar smoke. Long Arrow left unheard and unseen by anyone else. After a while some people noticed that he was gone, but no one except his grandfather knew where and for what purpose.
Following Good Running’s advice, Long Arrow wandered southward. On the fourth day of his journey he came to a small pond, where a strange man was standing as if waiting for him. “Why have you come here?” the stranger asked.
“I have come to find the mysterious Elk Dog.”
“Ah, there I cannot help you,” said the man, who was the spirit of the pond. “But if you travel further south, four-times-four days, you might chance upon a bigger lake and there meet one of my uncles. Possibly he might talk to you; then again, he might not. That’s all I can tell you.”
Long Arrow thanked the man, who went down to the bottom of the pond, where he lived.
Long Arrow wandered on, walking for long hours and taking little time for rest. Through deep canyons and over high mountains he went, wearing out his moccasins and enduring cold and heat, hunger and thirst.
Finally Long Arrow approached a big lake surrounded by steep pine-covered hills. There he came face to face with a tall man, fierce and scowling and twice the height of most humans. This stranger carried a long lance with a heavy spearpoint made of shining flint. “Young one,” he growled, “why did you come here?”
“I came to find the mysterious Elk Dog.”
The stranger, who was the spirit of the lake, stuck his face right into Long Arrow’s and shook his mighty lance. “Little one, aren’t you afraid of me?” he snarled.
“No, I am not,” answered Long Arrow, smiling.
The tall spirit man gave a hideous grin, which was his way of being friendly. “I like small humans who aren’t afraid,” he said, “but I can’t help you. Perhaps our grandfather will take the trouble to listen to you. More likely he won’t. Walk south for four-times-four days, and maybe you’ll find him. But probably you won’t.” With that the tall spirit turned his back on Long Arrow and went to the bottom of the lake, where he lived.
Long Arrow walked on for another four-times-four days, sleeping and resting little. By now he staggered and stumbled in his weakness, and his dog was not much better off. At last he came to the biggest lake he had ever seen, surrounded by towering snow-capped peaks and waterfalls of ice. This time there was nobody to receive him. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be no living thing around. “This must be the Great Mystery Lake,” thought Long Arrow. Exhausted, he fell down upon the shortgrass meadow by the lake, fell down among the wild flowers and went to sleep with his tired dog curled up at his feet.
When Long Arrow awoke, the sun was already high. He opened his eyes and saw a beautiful child standing before him, a boy in a dazzling white buckskin robe decorated with porcupine quills of many colors. The boy said: “We have been expecting you for a long time. My grandfather invites you to his lodge. Follow me.”
Telling his dog to wait, Long Arrow took his medicine shield and his grandfather’s bow and went with the wonderful child. They came to the edge of the lake. The spirit boy pointed to the water and said: “My grandfather’s lodge is down there. Come!” The child turned himself into a kingfisher and dove straight to the bottom.
Afraid, Long Arrow thought, “How can I follow him and not be drowned?” But then he said to himself, “I knew all the time that this would not be easy. In setting out to find the Elk Dog, I already threw my life away.” And he boldly jumped into the water. To his surprise, he found it did not make him wet, that it parted before him, that he could breathe and see. He touched the lake’s sandy bottom. It sloped down, down toward a center point.
Long Arrow descended this slope until he came to a small, flat valley. In the middle of it stood a large tipi of tanned buffalo hide. The images of two strange animals were drawn on it in sacred vermillion paint. A kingfisher perched high on the top of the tipi flew down and turned again into the beautiful boy, who said, “Welcome. Enter my grandfather’s lodge.”
Long Arrow followed the spirit boy inside. In the back at the seat of honor sat a black-robed old man with flowing white hair and such power emanating from him that Long Arrow felt himself in the presence of a truly Great One. The holy man welcomed Long Arrow and offered him food. The man’s wife came in bringing dishes of buffalo hump, liver, tongues, delicious chunks of deer meat, the roasted flesh of strange, tasty water birds, and meat pounded together with berries, chokecherries, and kidney fat. Famished after his long journey, Long Arrow ate with relish. Yet he still looked around to admire the furnishings of the tipi, the painted inner curtain, the many medicine shields, wonderfully wrought weapons, shirts and robes decorated with porcupine quills in rainbow colors, beautifully painted rawhide containers filled with wonderful things, and much else that dazzled him.
After Long Arrow had stilled his hunger, the old spirit chief filled the pipe and passed it to his guest. They smoked, praying silently. After a while the old man said: “Some came before you from
time to time, but they were always afraid of the deep water, and so they went away with empty hands. But you, grandson, were brave enough to plunge in, and therefore you are chosen to receive a wonderful gift to carry back to your people. Now, go outside with my grandson.”
The beautiful boy took Long Arrow to a meadow on which some strange animals, unlike any the young man had ever seen, were galloping and gamboling, neighing and nickering. They were truly wonderful to look at, with their glossy coats fine as a maiden’s hair, their long manes and tails streaming in the wind. Now rearing, now nuzzling, they looked at Long Arrow with gentle eyes which belied their fiery appearance.
“At last,” thought Long Arrow, “here they are before my own eyes, the Pono-Kamita, the Elk Dogs!”
“Watch me,” said the mystery boy, “so that you learn to do what I am doing.” Gracefully and without effort, the boy swung himself onto the back of a jet-black Elk Dog with a high, arched neck. Larger than any elk Long Arrow had ever come across, the animal carried the boy all over the meadow swiftly as the wind. Then the boy returned, jumped off his mount, and said, “Now you try it.” A little timidly Long Arrow climbed up on the beautiful Elk Dog’s back. Seemingly regarding him as feather-light, it took off like a flying arrow. The young man felt himself soaring through the air as a bird does, and experienced a happiness greater even than the joy he had felt when Good Running had adopted him as a grandson.
When they had finished riding the Elk Dogs, the spirit boy said to Long Arrow: “Young hunter from the land above the waters, I want you to have what you have come for. Listen to me. You may have noticed that my grandfather wears a black medicine robe as long as a woman’s dress, and that he is always trying to hide his feet. Try to get a glimpse of them, for if you do, he can refuse you nothing. He will then tell you to ask him for a gift, and you must ask for these three things: his rainbow-colored quilled belt, his black medicine robe, and a herd of these animals which you seem to like.”
AMERICAN INDIAN MYTHS AND LEGENDS Page 8