Chapter XII
The Great Race
THE VISIT OF the Kutenais to our people wound up as several previous visits had done, in a fine row, which for a time threatened to be serious. It began also as another one had, over a horse race. The Kutenais owned a large, clean-limbed, and very swift black mare which, with one horse after another, the Piegans bad endeavored to beat. Race after race had been run and each time the black had been victorious. The Piegans had lost heavily—guns, horses, blankets, finery of all descriptions—and were getting desperate. They claimed, for one thing, that the winners had managed secretly to rub something on their several horses which reduced the speed of the animals. In their extremity it was decided to send over to the Bloods for a certain horse which was known to be very fast, and to guard him night and day until the race was run. After a time the deputation sent to the Bloods returned with the horse, which was certainly a fine animal, a wellblooded American bay which had undoubtedly been taken from some unfortunate traveler on the Overland trail far away to the south. He was to have a rest of four days, and then the great race was to be run in which the Piegans expected to recoup their losses. During this time there is no question but that the horse was guarded. By day there were half a dozen young men with him out on the plain, where he grazed upon the richest grass that could be found, and at night be was fairly surrounded by interested watchers.
At last the great day came, and everyone in both camps, even the women and children, went out to the place where the race was to be run—a level stretch about 500 yards long. The betting was furious, and such a lot of stuff as was set out here and there on the plain I never saw before nor since. Specimens of everything the two tribes had for use or adornment were to be found in one or another of the heaps, and the many horses which had been staked upon the result were also there, their ropes held by some non-betting youth or boy.
Even the women were betting; here you would see a brass kettle wagered against a beaded dress, there a parfleche of dried buffalo meat against a tanned elkskin, a yard of red cloth against a couple of copper bracelets. I stood with a crowd of others at the finishing point, where a furrow had been scraped across the dusty course. It was to be a standing start; we could see the two youthful riders, naked except for the inevitable breechclout, guide their excited and prancing mounts up to the starting point, some 500 yards distant. They started; the spectators lining the course began to shout encouraging the riders to do their utmost, an increasing confusion and clamor of Blackfoot and Kutenai exclamations, in which the shrill cries of the women played no unimportant part. We at the post could not tell which of the horses was ahead, as they came toward us with quick, long leaps; they seemed to be running side by side. Now, as they neared the goal, a sudden silence fell upon the crowd. Everyone held his breath; we could hear the broad thongs of the riders' rapidly plied quirts thwack against the straining sides of the racers. And now here they were; a few leaps more and they crossed the furrow almost neck and neck, the Kutenai horse, I thought, a few inches in the lead. Immediately a great clamor of tongues arose and there was a general rush for the stakes.
"We win!" the Piegans shouted, "We win!" and I presume that is what the Kutenais were saying in their unintelligible and angry words. What a scene ensued. Men seized upon the stakes and pulled and pushed each other for the possession of them. A Kutenai in the midst of a struggling group pulled an ancient flintlock pistol and aimed it at his opponent, but someone knocked it upward in the nick of time, and the bullet went wide of its mark. At the sound of the shot the women fled in terror to their several lodges, dragging their crying children after them. The hot-headed Piegan youth and men began to call out to each other: "Get your weapons! Let's kill off these Kutenai cheats."
There was no more struggling over the things which had been staked upon the result of the race. Each bettor seemed to take that which was his without protest and hurry away to his lodge. In a moment or two the race ground was deserted save by the Kutenai and Piegan chiefs, a few of their leading men, Nät-ah'-ki and I. The latter was grasping my arm and there was real terror in her eyes as she begged me go with her at once.
"There is going to be a big fight; let us saddle our horses and ride away from it," she said. "Come."
"The fight will not concern me," I told her. "I am a white man."
"Yes," she cried, "you are a white man, and you are also a Piegan; the Kutenais will shoot at you as quickly as at anyone else."
I motioned her to keep silent, for I wanted to hear what was being decided upon by the chiefs. Big Lake sent his camp-crier home.
"Tell them," be said, "that these are my words: I go now to the camp of my good friend Back-in-sight; whoever would fight the Kutenais must fight me and these here with me."
The camp-crier hurried away and then he turned to me. "Come," he said, "you also are for peace; come with us."
I went with them over to the Kutenai camp, Nät-ah'-ki, sorely troubled, closely following. We had barely arrived there when we saw an ever-increasing throng of shouting and excited riders bearing down upon us from the other camp.
"Loan me a gun," said Big Lake, peremptorily. "Someone loan me a gun."
When it was handed him he stepped out in front of us and there was a look of grim determination on his fine old face, an angry light in his eyes. Behind us, with rustle of lodge-skin and rattle of poles, the lodges were being hurriedly taken down, the baggage packed by anxious and much-scared women, and near us the Kutenai men were gathering, preparing to defend themselves and theirs. They were no match for the Piegans they well knew; they were far outnumbered; but one had only to look at their attitude of preparedness, their steady eyes and compressed lips, to be satisfied that they would do their best.
A young warrior named Little Deer was at the head of the Piegans as they came riding fast toward us. I had a strong dislike to him, for I felt that he hated me. I had serious trouble vith him later. He had a mean, cruel face, pitiless and treacherous, with shifty eyes. The most of this angry crowd of our people, we learned later, had not heard the camp-crier in the excitement and confusion or had left before he arrived among them, and here they were, determined to deal unmercifully with those whom they now considered their enemies. Big Lake hastened out to meet them, shouting to them, and making the sign for them to stop. But as they paid no heed to him he ran on still farther, and leveling his gun at Little Deer, exclaimed: "If you don't stop I will shoot."
The latter unwillingly checked his horse and said: "My do you stop me? These Kutenai dogs have robbed us, cheated; we are going to have revenge."
He started to go on, calling out to his followers, and again Big Lake raised his gun: "Aim then at me," he cried, "I am now a Kutenai. Aim, shoot; I give you a chance."
Little Deer did not raise his gun; he just sat there on his horse and glared at the chief, then turned in his saddle and, looking at the crowd which had ridden up behind him, called upon them to follow him. But the other Piegan leaders were now among them, by turns threatening and coaxing them to return to their camp. None of them came forward; on the other hand, some started back toward their lodges. Little Deer worked himself into a fine rage, alternately pointing at them and at the Kutenais, calling them all the evil names he could think of. But in spite of his anger and defiance he made no attempt to advance; the chief's pointed gun, the steady cold, clear stare of his eyes wholly disconcerted him. Muttering something or other in an unintelligible tone, he finally turned his horse and moodily rode back to camp in the wake of those whom but a few moments before he had so eagerly led. The chiefs gave a long sigh of relief, so did I, so did Nät-ah'-ki, again close by my side.
"What hard heads these young men have," Big Lake remarked. "How difficult it is to manage them."
"You speak truth," said Back-in-sight. "Were it not for you, your strong words, many dead would now be lying on this plain. We go now back to the mountains, it may be long ere we meet again.
"Yes," agreed the Piegan, "it is best that we part, But the anger of our young men will soon die away. Next summer, somewhere hereabouts, let us meet again."
This was agreed upon, and with final handshakes all around, we left them. Arrived at our own camp, Big Lake gave orders that camp be struck at once, and the lodges began to come down in a hurry. He also instructed the Ai-in'-ai-kiks—seizers, holders—a band of the All Friends' Society which were, as one may say, police, to allow none of the young men to leave us under any pretext whatever. He feared that if they did go from us they would yet attack the Kutenais, who were already stringing out in a long column, westward over the rolling plain. A little later we, too, pulled out, heading south on the afternoon of the second day we went into camp on the Marias at the lower end of Medicine Rock bottom, right opposite the spot where, later, Fort Conrad was built, and where today the Great Falls & Canada Railroad crosses the stream.
At the extreme lower end of this bottom, about 100 yards from the river, and near the foot of the rising hill, unless the railroad vandals have taken them for construction work, lies a circle of large boulders partially embedded in the soil. The circle is about sixty-five feet in diameter; some of the boulders will weigh at least a ton. Who placed them there, and why I could never learn. The Blackfeet have no tradition concerning them, saying merely that 'twas "done by the ancient ones," ahk'-kai-tup-pi. This, by the way, is an interesting word; as it stands, with the accent on the first syllable, its exact meaning is long-ago-people; but if the second instead of the first syllable is accented it means many people. However, in the first instance the word for time, sum-oh', is entirely omitted, most likely for the sake of euphony.
But if the Blackfeet know nothing of the boulder circle, they have much to say regarding the medicine rock. This lies by the side of the old travois trail about three miles above, near the top of the hill at the extreme upper end of the bottom. In the Blackfoot Lodge Tales is given the story of a rock, which, to avenge an insult, chased Old Man, and but for the timely interference of a bullbat would have crushed him flat. To a certain extent the Blackfeet are Pantheists, attributing life to, and worshiping many inanimate objects. This rock is one of several to which they sacrifice and pray, another one lying on a hill of the Two Medicine River, near the old Marias River-Belly River trail. It is a red mottled quartz—the red itself a "medicine" or sacred color—a boulder of several tons' weight lying on a very steep sandy slope exposed to the southwest winds. The wind gradually moving the sand undermines the rock, and as the fine sand and soil is blown away it settles little by little, moving farther and farther down the hill. But although the Blackfeet are well aware of the cause of this movement, to them the rock is a sacred object. Passing it, they stop a moment and place on it a bracelet, a necklace, some beads or other offering, and beg it to take pity on them, to guard them from all evil things and grant them long life and happiness. The last time I passed this rock there was at least a bushel of various small offerings lying upon, or around it. And there most likely they are to this day unless the white settlers have picked them up. Years after I last rode by the rock, Nät-ah'-ki and I crossed the bottom on a train of the new railway. We sat out on the platform of the rear sleeper, whence we could get a good view of the country. Oh, the dreariness and desolation of it all. Gone were the rich grasses, even the sages, which once grew thick on flat and hillside. Gone, too, were the grand old cottonwoods, the clusters of willow, and cherry, and sarvis berry thickets which bordered the river. Nät-ah'-ki silently pressed my hand, and I saw tears in her eyes.
I said nothing, asked no question; well I knew of what she was thinking, and I came near crying too. What a—to us—terrible change had taken place; gone were our friends, extinct the herds of game; even the face of the country was changed. Do you wonder that we felt sad?