Delphi Collected Works of Max Brand US

by Max Brand

  “Of all the young men of the Cheyennes,” said the chief, “there is one who is far the wisest, and who can think long thoughts beyond even the grip of the oldest men, and who can pass many bright pictures before the eyes with his words, and who always has an answer. But among the Cheyennes there is one who is also as blind as a newborn child. Some things he does not see at all, and what lies just before him is less known to him than what is over the hill!”

  “And who are these two men?” asked Thunder Moon, bright with curiosity.

  “They are both one man,” said the chief. “They are you, Thunder Moon!”

  The latter winced under the double thrust and caress of this speech. He was surely unlike the rest of the young men and the old ones of the tribe, in that he could only partially mask his emotions. They were usually written clearly enough — too dimly for a white man to have followed them, no doubt, but plainly enough for the keen glance of an Indian to see through at once, from a distance.

  “I am that man, then,” said Thunder Moon. “And White Rain hates me because I am blind? Is that, then, the reason?”

  “Do you not fear that White Rain may have blinded you, my friend, being unfriendly to you?”

  Thunder Moon laughed shortly in contempt.

  “I think that White Rain may do very great things,” said he. “He may bring down the rain, of course, as we have all seen so many times. And sometimes he does other tricks which are curious to watch. But as for blinding me, or changing me in any way, he has not the strength, Lame Eagle. He simply has not the strength. Each man’s mind is its own place, and is surrounded with a wall higher than the blue sky, and no other man may climb over that wall.”

  “Now, then,” said the chief, “you have explained the matter for yourself.”

  “I don’t understand how.”

  “But you know that all the other young men in the tribe dread White Rain worse than the guns and the arrows of the Pawnees or the Comanches.”

  “Yes, that is true. I have laughed at the way they cringe before him, like beaten dogs.”

  “And consider, Thunder Moon, that the medicine man has seen your laughter! Is not that enough to make him hate you?”

  “But,” exclaimed Thunder Moon, “if he has such a power, he should prove it to me. He should convince me. I am ready to follow him and to think him a great man; but surely first I have a right to make him prove what he can do. I pick up this knife. I say: ‘White Rain, I dare you to keep me from throwing this knife into that post!’ ”

  “Hush!” exclaimed the chief. “He will hear!”

  “Bah!” sneered the boy. “He will not hear. He cannot hear farther than you, or than I! White Rain, work magic and big medicine and make this knife miss the mark, if you can. Make it turn in the air and fly back at my own breast!”

  “Do not throw!” cried Lame Eagle, tense with excitement, the sweat standing out on his forehead. “These are dangerous words, my friend!”

  “Look!” laughed the youthful brave.

  His sinewy arm went back and flashed forward with incomparable grace and speed. The knife shot in a twinkle of light across the lodge and was buried inches deep in the stout tent post.

  “Look!” laughed Thunder Moon, while the knife hummed like a savage snarl across the lodge. “Look! Did he stop me, my friend?”

  Lame Eagle started up and crossed the lodge. He leaned and examined the knife.

  “Draw it forth, Lame Eagle!”

  “No, no!” said the war leader. “I would not touch it for the price of ten horses. Who can tell if White Rain has not already worked a spell that will wither the next arm that touches this handle?”

  “Let him work his spells to make rain — and wind,” scoffed the boy. “But he must learn a new sort of medicine before he can touch my weapons!”

  He crossed the lodge, drew out the great knife with a single wrench, and examined the blade. So truly had it been hurled that it had flown in a perfectly straight line, and the cutting edge had not been turned in the slightest degree.

  He thrust the knife back into its scabbard, made of brilliant lizard’s skin, a trophy taken from a Comanche warrior the year before, when Thunder Moon rode south.

  Then he saw Lame Eagle wiping the perspiration from his forehead and shaking his head back and forth in dismay.

  “Ah, my son,” said he, “you are placing yourself needlessly in danger!”

  “It will not shorten my life a day!” exclaimed Thunder Moon.

  “And yet you ask me why White Rain hates you, my friend? For this very reason! He knows that you despise his medicine. Is not that enough?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THUNDER MOON STOOD, amazed.

  “I had not thought of that!”

  “No, my son, for you are the blind man of our nation! Besides, did you not quarrel with White Rain once, very bitterly?”

  “No, I think not. I am sure not.”

  “Think again. You forget. There was some trouble between White Crow and White Rain.”

  “Ah, I had almost forgotten. That was three years ago. He had threatened to put a spell on White Crow for some little thing she had done that displeased him. I only went to him and told him that men should not fight with women, and that if he worried White Crow with his foolishness, I would have him out of the lodge before the whole nation, and show them that his bag of tricks was not worth one dog whip, and a strong hand ready to use it. That may have angered him, but the next day he met White Crow and told her that there would be no spell.”

  The chief stared with bulging eyes.

  “Yet you wonder why he hates you, Thunder Moon?”

  “Why,” said the boy, “I have given him three whole buffalo, since then, and a painted robe — because it pleased my father. And as for the other, I had forgotten that. I don’t wish to keep my mind filled up with little things!”

  “Ah,” murmured the chief, behind a dim cloud of smoke. “You do not know, my son, that the Cheyennes never forget! You have not remembered, but be sure that he has, and will, till the day of his death.”

  “Well, that is explained,” said Thunder Moon, “and now I shall pay no more attention to him. I was only puzzled. But now I see that you are right, and that he will always hate me. It will not keep me awake at night, I promise you! But one thing you say sticks in my mind. You say all the other Cheyennes remember — but I forget. And then my skin is brown, and your skin and the skins of the others are darker and redder. Does it mean that I am different, really, from all my brothers?”

  The chief frowned and hastened to turn the subject.

  “What are differences of skin, when the heart is the same?” said he. “Do not think of that. But who has been putting such ideas in your mind?”

  “Nothing. Nothing that I can remember. Except that there are many things from which I am shut out. No soldier societies, for instance, have asked me to join with them, though they are glad enough to have me ride with any of them on the warpath!”

  The chief answered diplomatically: “You have honors enough, Thunder Moon. And all men respect you. But in the soldier societies men make sacrifices of themselves. They strip skin from their bodies in honor of the Sky People. They pierce and torture themselves to bring good luck on the warpath. And they know that you would never do that to yourself!”

  “Why should I give myself pain?” asked the young man. “Let my enemies do that! Let them do that, if they can!”

  “There is a certain amount of suffering allotted to each of us by Tarawa,” said the chief. “And if we give ourselves that pain, we escape taking it from the hands of others. Further, we please Tarawa and the others, because they see that we submit ourselves to their judgment and admit that they are greater than we.”

  Thunder Moon frowned dark as night and looked impatiently upward.

  “There is something above us,” said he. “But why the Sky People should be pleased by pain I cannot tell. They are happy people. They should be pleased only by happiness. Sorro
w and agony darken their dwellings in the sky. However,” he added with a sigh, “you have told me a great many things that I wished to know. You have explained to me why it is that I live outside the lives of all the Cheyennes. And I am lonely, Lame Eagle. I wish to be one with my people. I wish to join in their dances, and to know all their secrets. And though I cannot see why a dead man is made more dead by losing his scalp, I am going on the warpath, and I am going for scalps, with my chosen friends. I have come to you, tonight, to ask what I must do. I wish to make my father happy. I wish to make all of the Cheyennes happy. I wish to obey all of their laws, this time, and not my own pleasure. So tell me everything, if you will!”

  Lame Eagle breathed forth a great cloud of the smoke, and, with a deeper note in his gentle, even voice said:

  “If I had ten men like you to follow me, Thunder Moon, I would beat the Comanches across the great southern river. I would drive the Crows and the Blackfeet into the snows of their mountains, and I would take the scalps of all the Pawnees and make their women and children our slaves. There would be no tribe that dared to face us. Therefore, Thunder Moon, I wish to see you greater and greater. You have a hand that strikes and you have a mind that thinks. And as for these little things of flayings and self-torment, we shall forget them. You will make yourself such a great glory that no man can question. I shall tell you what to do. You shall fulfill all of the customs of the people, and even White Rain will see, in time, that you are a good Cheyenne.”

  And he said after a moment: “Have you selected your soldiers? Have you passed the pipe for men to say whether or not they wish to follow you?”

  “I have sent a message to each of the men I wish. They will meet me tonight, at moonrise, on the edge of the river!”

  The chief smiled a little at this confidence.

  “Are they many?”

  “There are enough to win much glory. They are not too many to divide it.”

  “Twenty young men and a few seasoned warriors, then?”

  “There are five young men.”

  “And you will do some great thing with five young men?”

  “You may smile, Lame Eagle, and it does not anger me, because I know that you are my friend. However, you shall see what I bring back!”

  “Yes, I shall wait to see. Now, in the meantime, get ready to do these things: Prepare to make an offering to the medicine arrows — tail feathers of eagles are the best. Have you any of those?”

  “I took a great quantity of them from the Pawnees last year.”

  “That is true. Then take the tail feathers of the eagles. Your father will tell you how many make a good gift to the arrows. Put on a robe with the hair side turned out. Fill a pipe and leave your lodge, walking slowly, because a man who goes to face the gods must have time to think as he walks. Then you must begin to mourn in a loud voice — mourn for the troubles in which you stand, and, because you want more glory than you have, mourn so that the Sky People will understand that here is a warrior who wants help.”

  “I don’t like that,” sighed Thunder Moon. “However, I shall do everything as you say.”

  “That is well, my son. When you reach the door of the arrow lodge stand there and wail. Then the keeper of the arrow lodge will come out and invite you to enter, seeing that you need the help of the medicine arrows. When you go in, place the pipe on the ground in front of the arrow keeper, and then step around to the side of the lodge, taking great care, always, that you never pass between the medicine arrows hanging at the head of the keeper’s bed, and the fire. The arrow keeper will then take the offerings in his left hand, put the palm of his right on the ground, and pass the right hand down on the offerings. Then he will change hands and repeat this thing, as the wise men of old days have directed, to call the attention of the medicine arrows.

  “After that, he will return the gifts to you, and tell you to tie them to the arrow bundle. While you are tying the thong, do not hurry, because before the knot is tied, you must finish praying aloud and telling the arrows all that you wish — horses, or scalps, or other plunder, for if these things have all been done as I direct, the arrows cannot help hearing every word that you speak while you are tying the knot, and if you have done well, the arrows will grant at least a part of your prayer and let you and your men come back from the warpath happily, with blackened faces. After that, you will smoke a pipe with the lodge keeper, and with any others who may happen to be there. That finishes the ceremony.

  “Or if you wish, instead of this, you may go away from the city and spend three or four days without food or water, under the hot sun, lying on a bed of sage and—”

  “No, no!” cried Thunder Moon. “The first way is the best. Let the tortures be kept for the war.”

  “Aye,” said Lame Eagle gloomily, “and if you fall into the hands of the Comanches or the Pawnees, you may be sure that the Sky People will not take pity on your pain and give you a quick death!”

  Chapter Twenty

  DOWN BY THE river, the face of the rising moon stretched a long silver image across the pool, and out of the darkness of the banks it lifted the silhouettes of six men. One was Thunder Moon, and the others were the men for whom he had sent; for not one of them had failed to come to him.

  They were all much alike, as six tall and strong young saplings in a forest. Yellow Wolf and Snake-that-talks could sit in any assembly of men and talk with pride of the scalps they had taken and of the coups which they had counted. But they were furiously eager and zealous for more. As for the other three, each of them was as formidable as the first two, but fortune had not placed them in the path of great enterprises so often. They had shown their mettle, and now they were like dogs straining at the leash, wild to be off in the hunt for glory.

  All of them were well known to Thunder Moon, as he was known to them, for his deeds, his coups, his wisdom to which even old men would listen, his rash courage which made him like a thunderbolt in time of war, and his wealth in guns and horses.

  The five had assembled a little earlier than he who had sent for them; and now as he came down the bank to them across the broad face of the moon, the five shadows arose and gave him greeting.

  Said Thunder Moon abruptly and earnestly: “Is there any one of you who has a grudge against me?”

  There was no answer.

  “Is there any one of you,” said Thunder Moon, “who despises me or thinks me foolish?”

  There was no answer.

  “Is there any of you who is not willing to follow me to war?”

  At this there was eager murmur. Certainly all were as ready to ride behind this leader as a wasp is eager to find honey.

  “Very well,” said Thunder Moon. “There are men in our village who say that Thunder Moon is a fool, or else very young, because he has never taken a scalp. And I have made up my mind that I would go on the warpath, and that I would swear never to come back without a scalp to hang at my belt. Listen, and I shall swear!”

  He turned to the silver moon, now hanging close to the black margin of the prairie. To her he lifted his arms.

  “Bright moon,” he said, “you see all things on the earth by night, as the sun sees them by day. You see the owl sail and you see the nighthawk swoop. You see the grizzly bear stalking and the lion stealing through the forest. You see the Indian braves going to serenade. You see, through the smoke of the lodge fires, the faces even of the crying children. Therefore, be sure to see the face of Thunder Moon, and look on down through the smoke of his words and see his heart, and there you will find the words painted, just as they are spoken.

  “I have gathered five friends. There are no young men like them among the Cheyennes. There are no men who ride so well, who shoot so straight, or who fight so bravely. They are going to ride forth with me in the search for honor and for scalps. Let us have good fortune, oh, moon, because I intend to try such things as no Cheyenne ever attempted before. I intend to do a thing which will mark this year and set it apart from all the other years of the C
heyennes. And in token of the honor I have for you, moon, because I was named partly from you, I give you this gift as a sign of the great gifts which I will bring back to you from this war journey!”

  And he swung above his head a fine rifle, not two years old, and perfectly sound in all its parts — such a gun as many an Indian would gladly have purchased at the price of half a dozen horses. The weapon left his hand and flew, wheeling clumsily, with the moon gleaming alternately on the polished sides of the barrel. It fell with a loud splashing into the waters of the river and disappeared.

  Not a man among the five young warriors who watched this sacrifice uttered a sound. But there was not a one among them who did not wince, and there was not a one among them upon whose forehead the sweat did not start out. For what one of them possessed such a gun as this which had been idly hurled away? And yet they marveled, rather at the greatness of spirit in the man who made this gift to the gods than they grieved because the rifle was lost to the tribe.

  “Look!” cried Big River with a shout of wonder and of triumph. “Look at the answer of the moon to her son!”

  All raised their heads, and saw the broad disk of the moon sail into a cloud, not thick enough to dim its light, but rather to catch and magnify it, so that the moon seemed to disappear; and in its place there was a little pyramid of crystal fire in the center of the heavens.

  The wind blew the cloud away. Once more the face of the moon looked broad and bright and clear upon the earth.

  “I am answered!” said Thunder Moon, in a voice deep with satisfaction. “The rifle has already been carried away by the underwater people and given to the moon! We shall have fortune, my friends. Which of you can doubt that we shall have fortune on this warpath?”

  So it seemed to them all, and their eyes glistened with respect and with excitement as they watched their leader.

  He continued to them: “Yellow Wolf, of all of us, you have taken the most scalps. You know the ways of our people in war. Then tell me, how do we fight against the Pawnees?”