Chapter X
The Killing of a Bear

TOWARD THE END of April we abandoned the trading post. Berry intended to resume freighting to the mines as soon as the steamboats began to arrive, and moved his family into Fort Benton. Thither also went Sorrel Horse and his outfit. The Bloods and Blackfeet moved north to summer on the Belly and Saskatchewan rivers. Most of the Piegans trailed over to Milk River and the Sweetgrass Hills country. The band with which I was connected, the Small Robes, pulled out for the foot of the Rockies, and I went with them. I had purchased a lodge and a half dozen pack and train animals to transport our outfit. We had a Dutch oven, two fry pans, a couple of small kettles, and some tin and iron tableware, of which Nät-ah'-ki was very proud. Our commissary consisted of one sack of flour, some sugar, salt, beans, coffee, bacon, and dried apples. I bad plenty of tobacco and cartridges. We were rich; the world was before us. When the time came to move, I attempted to help pack our outfit, but Nät-ah'-ki stopped me at once.

"Aren't you ashamed?" she said. "This is my work; go up in front there and ride with the chiefs. I'll attend to this."

I did as I was ordered to do. After that I rode ahead with the big men, or hunted along by the way, and at evening on arriving at camp there was our lodge set up, a pile of fuel beside it, a bright fire within, over which the evening meal was being prepared. The girl and her mother had done it all, and when everything was in order the latter went away to the lodge of her brother, with whom she lived. We had many visitors, and I was constantly being asked to go and feast and smoke with this one and that one. Our store of provisions did not last long, and we soon were reduced to a diet of meat straight. Everyone was contented with that but I; how I did long at times for an apple pie, for some potatoes even. I often dreamed that I was the happy possessor of some candy.

Leaving the abandoned fort we followed up the Marias, then its most northern tributary, the Cutbank River, until we came to the pines at the foot of the Rockies. Here was game in vast numbers; not many buffalo nor antelope just there, but elk, deer, mountain sheep, and moose were even more plentiful than I had seen them south of the Missouri. As for bears, the whole country was torn up by them. None of the women would venture out after fuel or poles for lodge or travois without an escort. Many of the hunters never molested a grizzly, the bear being regarded as a sort of medicine or sacred animal, many believing that it was really a human being. It was commonly called Kyai'-yo, but the medicine-pipe men were obliged when speaking of it to call it Pah'-ksi-kwo-yi, sticky mouth. They, too, were the only ones who could take any of the skin of a bear, and then merely a strip for a head band or pipe wrapping. It was allowable, however, for anyone to use the bear's claws for a necklace or other ornament. Some of the more adventurous wore a three- or four-row necklace of their own killing, of which they were very proud.

One morning with Heavy Breast I went up on the divide between Cutbank and Milk River. He said that we could easily ride through the pines there to the foot of a bare mountain where there were always more or less sheep. We wanted some meat, and at that season the mountain rams were even in better order than were the buck antelope on the plains. We found broad game trails running through the timber, and soon came near the inner edge of it. Dismounting and securing our horses, we went on carefully, and in a few moments could see, through the interlacing branches of the pines, a good-sized band of bighorn, all rams, trailing across the shell rock at the foot of a cliff I let Heavy Breast have the first shot, and he missed altogether. Before he could reload I managed to get two of the animals with my Henry. Both were very large ones with some little fat on their ribs, and, having all the meatwe cared to pack, we loaded our horses and started homeward. Passing out of the pines we saw, some four or five hundred yards distant, a large grizzly industriously tearing up the sod on the bare hillside, in search of a gopher, or ants' nest.

"Let us kill him," I exclaimed.

"Ok-yi (come on)," said Heavy Breast, but with an inflection which meant, "All right, but it's your proposition, not mine."

We rode along in the edge of the timber down under the hill, my companion praying, promising the Sun an offering, and begging for success. At the foot of the hill we turned into a deep coulée and followed it up until we thought we were quite near to the place where we had seen the bear; then we rode up out of it, and, sure enough, there was the old fellow not fifty yards away. He saw us as quickly as we did him, sat upon his haunches and wiggled his nose as he sniffed the air. We both fired and with a hair-lifting roar the bear rolled over, biting and clawing at his flank where a bullet had struck him, and then springing to his feet, he charged us open-mouthed. We both urged our horses off to the north, for it was not a wise thing to turn back down the hill. I fired a couple of shots at the old fellow as fast as I could, but without effect. The bear meantime had covered the ground with surprisingly long bounds, and was already quite close to the heels of my companion's horse. I fired again and made another miss, and just then Heavy Breast, his saddle, and his sheep meat parted company with the fleeing pony; the cinch, an old, worn, rawhide band, bad broken.

"Hai ya', my friend!" he cried, pleadingly, as he soared up in the air, still astride the saddle. Down they came with a loud thud not two steps in front of the onrushing bear, and that animal, with a dismayed and frightened "woof," turned sharply about and fled back toward the timber, I after him. I kept firing and firing, and finally by a lucky shot broke his backbone; it was easy then to finish him vitb a deliberately aimed bullet in the base of the brain. When it was all over I suddenly remembered how ridiculous Heavy Breast bad appeared soaring on a horseless saddle, and how his eyes bulged as he called upon me for aid. I began to laugh and it seemed as if I never could stop. My companion had come up beside me and stood, very solemn, looking at me and the bear.

"Do not laugh, my friend," he said. "Do not laugh. Rather, pray to the good Sun, make sacrifice to him, that when you are sometime hard pressed by the enemy, or such another one as he lying here, you may as fortunately escape as did I. Surely the Sun listened to my prayer. I promised to sacrifice to him, intending to hang up that fine white blanket I have just bought. I will now do better. I will hang up the blanket and my otter-skin cap."

The bear had a fine coat of fur, and I determined to take it and have it tanned. Heavy Breast took my horse in order to catch his, which had run out of sight into the valley, and I set to work. It was no small task, for the bear was quite fat, and I wanted to get the hide off as clean as possible. Long before I accomplished it my friend returned with his animal, dismounted a little way off, sat down, filled and lighted his pipe.

"Help me," I said, after he had smoked. "I'm getting tired."

"I cannot do so," said he. "It is against my medicine; my dream forbade me to touch a bear."

We arrived in camp betimes, and hearing me ride up beside the lodge, Nät-ah'-ki hurried out.

"Kyai-yo'!" she exclaimed, seeing the bear skin. "Kyai-yo'!" she again exclaimed, and hurried back inside.

I thought that rather strange, for when I came in from a hunt she always insisted upon unpacking and unsaddling my mount, and leading the animal over to the lodge of a boy who took care of my little band. After I had done this I went inside; a dish of boiled boss ribs, a bowl of soup were ready for me. As I ate I told about the day's hunt, but when I described how Heavy Breast had sailed through the air and how he looked when he cried out to me, Nät-ah'-ki did not laugh with me. I thought that strange, also, for she was so quick to see the comical side of things.

"It is a fine hide," I concluded; "long, thick, dark hair. I wish you would tan it for me."

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I knew you would ask that as soon as I saw it. Have pity on me, for I cannot do it. I cannot touch it. Only here and there is a woman, or even a man, who through the power of their medicine can handle a bear skin. To others who attempt it some great misfortune befalls; sickness, even death. None of us here would dare to tan the skin. There is a woman of the Kut-ai'-im-iks (Do-not-laugh band) who would do it for you, another in the Buffalo-chip band; yes, there are several, but they are all far away."

I said no more about it, and after a while went out and stretched the skin, by pegging it to the ground. Nät-ah'-ki was uneasy, repeatedly coming out to watch me for a moment, and then hurrying inside again. I kept on at work; there was still a lot of fat on the skin; try as I would I could not get it all off. I was pretty greasy and tired of my job when night came.

I awoke soon after daylight. Nät-ah'-ki was already up and out. I could bear her praying near the lodge, telling the Sun that she was about to take the bearskin, flesh and tan it. She begged her God to have mercy on her; she did not want to; she feared to touch the unclean thing, but her man wished it to be worked into a soft robe.

"Oh, Sun!" she concluded. "help me, protect me from the evil power of the shadow (the spirit, or soul) of this bear. I will sacrifice to you. Let my good health continue, give us all, my man, my mother, my relatives, me, give us all long life, happiness; let us live to be old."

My first thought was to call out and say that she need not tan the skin, that I really did not care for a bear robe after all; but I concluded that it would be well for her to do the work. If she did not learn that there was nothing in the malevolent influence of the bear's spirit, she would at least beget confidence in herself and her medicine. So I lay still for a while, listening to the quick chuck-chuck of her flesher as it stripped meat and fat from the skin. After a little she came in, and seeing that I was awake, built a fire for the morning meal. As soon as it began to burn she washed herself in half a dozen waters, and then, placing some dried sweetgrass on a few live coals, she bent over its fragrant smoke, rubbing her hands in it.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Why burning sweetgrass this early?"

"I purify myself," she replied. "I am fleshing the bearskin. I am going to tan it for you."

"Now, that is kind," I told her. "When we go to Fort Benton I will get you the prettiest shawl I can find, and is there any sacrifice to be made? Tell me, that I may furnish it."

The little woman was pleased. She smiled happily, and then became very serious. Sitting down by my side she bent over and whispered:

"I have prayed. I have promised a sacrifice for you and for me. We must give something good. You have two short guns (revolvers); can you not spare one? and I, I will give my blue cloth dress."

The blue cloth dress! her most cherished possession, seldom worn but often taken from its parfleche covering, smoothed out, folded, refolded, admired, and then put away again. Surely, if she could part with that I could afford to lose one of my six-shooters. One of themthey were the old Colt cap and ball affairs-had a trick of discharging all the chambers at once. Yes, I would give that. So, after breakfast we went out a little way from camp and hung our offerings in a tree, Nät-ah'-ki praying while I climbed up and securely fastened them to a sturdy branch. All that day women of the camp came and stared at the tanner of the bearskin, some begging her to quit the work at once, all prophesying that she would in some way have bad luck. But she heeded them not, and in the course of four or five days I had a large, soft, bear rug,with which I promptly covered our couch. But there it seemed it could not remain if I cared to have any visitors, for none of my friends would enter the lodge while it was inside. I was obliged to store it away under a couple of rawhides behind our home.

We remained on the Cutbank River until about the first of June. The flies were becoming troublesome and we moved out on the plains where they were not nearly so plentiful. Swinging over the ridge we went down the course of Milk River several days' journey, finally camping for a time just north of the east butte of the Sweetgrass Hills, where the rest of the Piegans were staying. There was much coming and going of visitors between the two camps. We learned that a great scandal bad occurred in the Do-not-laugh band soon after leaving the Marias. Yellow Bird Woman, the young and pretty wife of old Looking Back, had run away with a youth named Two Stars. It was thought that they had gone north to the Bloods or Blackfeet, and the husband had started in pursuit of them. There was much talk about the affair, much conjecture as to what would be the end of it. We soon learned.

One evening Nät-ah'-ki informed me that the guilty couple had arrived from the north, and were in the lodge of a young friend of theirs. They had eluded the husband when he arrived in the Blood camp, and doubled back south. He would probably go on to the Blackfoot camp in search ofthem, and they, meanwhile, were going on to visit the Gros Ventres. After a time they hoped he would give up the chase, and then, by paying him heavy damages, they would be allowed to live together in peace. The very next morning, however, soon after sunrise, our camp was aroused by a woman's piercing, terror-stricken shrieks. Everyone sprang from bed and ran out, the men with their weapons thinking that perhaps some enemy was attacking us. But no, 'twas Yellow Bird Woman who shrieked; her husband had found and seized her as she was going to the stream for water. He had her by one wrist and was dragging her to the lodge of our chief, the woman hanging back, crying and struggling to get loose. Breakfast was prepared in the lodges, but that morning the camp was very quiet. There was no singing, no laughter, no talking, even the children were still. I remarked upon it to the little woman.

"Hush," she said, "she is to be pitied; I think something dreadful is about to happen."

Presently we heard the camp-crier shouting out that there was to be a council in Big Lakes—our chiefs—lodge, and he called over the names ofthose requested to be present; medicine-pipe men, mature hunters and warriors, wise old men. One bv one they went over to the place; a profound silence settled over the camp.

We had our breakfast and I had smoked a couple of pipes when the camp-crier was again heard: "All women! all women!" he shouted. "You are to assemble at once at the lodge of our chief, where a punishment is about to take place. A woman has been guilty of infidelity; you are to witness what happens to one who so disgraces her husband, her relatives, and herself."

I imagine that few women wanted to go, but following the camp-crier were the Crazy Dog band of the All Friends Society, camp police as it were, who went from lodge to lodge and ordered the women out. As one raised the flap of our doorway Nät-ah'-ki sprang over to me and grasped me convulsively.

"Come," said the policeman, looking in. "Come, hurry! Didn't you hear the call?"

"She is no longer a Piegan," I said quietly, although I felt angry enough. "She is a white woman now, and she does not go."

I thought there might be some argument about the matter, but there was none; the man dropped the door flap and went away without a word.

We waited in suspense. "What are they going to do?" I asked. "Kill her or—the other thing?"

Nät-ah'-Id shuddered and did not answer, clinging to me more closely than ever. Suddenly we heard again those piercing shrieks; then again all was silence until a man, our chief, began to talk.

"Kyi!" he said. "You all here standing, have witnessed what befalls one who proves untrue to her husband. It is a great crime, unfaithfulness. In the long ago our fathers counseled together as to what should be the punishment of a woman who brought sorrow and shame to the lodge of her man and her parents. And as they decided should be done, so has it been done to this woman today that all you witnessing it may take warning. She is marked with a mark she will bear as long as she lives. Wherever she goes people will look and laugh and say: 'Ha, a cut-nosed woman! There goes a woman of loose character; isn't she pretty?'"

Then, one after another, several men made little speeches, each one to the same effect, and when they had finished the chief told the people to disperse. The woman in the case went to the river to wash her bleeding face; her nose had been cut off. From the bridge to the lip it had been entirely removed vAth one deep concaved slash. She was a horrible sight, an animated human skull.

The youth? He had hurried away to his own camp and lodge as soon as the woman was caught. Nothing was said nor done to him. In that we civilized and uncivilized people are alike. The woman always suffers but the man goes free.

"You see," Nät-ah'-ki told me, "the woman was not to blame; she had always loved Two Stars, but he is very poor and her bad father made her go to bad old Looking Back, who had already five women, and is very mean and cruel to them. Oh, I pity her!"

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