Chapter XXIV
A Wolverine's Medicine
WE CAMPED WITH Weasel Tail, whose good woman spread out a number of new robes for our use. Visitors came and went, and we were called to several smokes at different places. In the latter part of the evening, after the feasting and visiting was over, Weasel Tail and Talks-with-the-buffalo, the two inseparables, and I were again together, as we had been on many a previous night. There were no three smokes and then the polite dismissal when we got together, no matter which of us was host. We would sit together for hours, smoking when we felt like it, talking or idly silent, as the mood struck us. The women passed around some berry pemmican, which was fine. "Friend," said Talks-with-the-buffalo, after we had eaten and the pipe was again filled and lighted, "I have a present for you."
"Ah!" I replied, "I am always glad to get presents."
"Yes," be continued, "and I will be glad to get rid of this. I want you to take it tomorrow morning, lest something happen that you never get the thing. It is a wolverine skin. Listen and I will tell you what trouble it has caused me. First, as to the way I got it: One morning my woman here told me to kill some bighorn; she wanted their skins for a dress. I said that those animals were too difficult to get; that she ought to make her dress of antelope skins, Which also make fine soft leather when well tanned. But, no; they would not do; they were uneven, thick on the neck, too thin on the belly; nothing would do but bighorn skins, because they were all of the right kind—neither thick nor very thin in any place. I tried to get out of it by saying that if she must have them I would require her to go on the hunt with me, and help pack down what I killed. I thought that when I said this, she would make up her mind that antelope skins were good enough. I was mistaken. 'Of course, I'll go with you,' she said. 'Let us start in the morning.'
"I made up my mind that I would pretend to be sick; but when I awoke in the morning I had forgotten all about the hunt, and after I had got up and washed, I ate a big meal. When I did remember, it was too late. I couldn't get her to believe that I was sick, after making her broil meat twice. We started, and rode as far as our horses could carry us, up the north side of the west Sweetgrass Mountain; then we tied the animals and went on afoot. It was pretty steep climbing; in places the pines grew so closely together that we could hardly squeeze between them. My hunting partner was always behind. 'Come on; come on,' I kept saying; and 'Wait, wait for me,' she was always calling, and when she caught up she would be breathing like a horse that has run a race, and sweat would just drip off her chin. 'It is very pleasant, this bighorn hunting,' I told her; and she said, 'You speak the truth. just look how high up we are, and how far we can see the plains away northward.'
"After that I did not tease her, because she had good courage, and did her best to climb. I traveled slower, and she kept close behind me. We approached the summit. The top of that mountain—you have seen it—is a mystery place. When Old Man made the world he painted the rocks he placed there with pretty colors, red, brown, yellow, and white.* Some say that it is a lucky place to hunt; others, that if one kilIs anything there, he will have bad luck of some kind. I thought of this as I climbed, and at last I stopped and spoke to my woman. I told her that we had, perhaps, better go back on account of the bad luck we might have if I made a killing there. But she just laughed and laughed, and said that I was getting to be very foolish.
"'Well,' I said to her, 'if you must laugh, do so with your hand over your mouth, else you will scare everything on this mountain.'
"We continued climbing, and in a little while came to the summit. Looking out at it from the cover of some pines, I saw a band of bighorn, maybe twenty or more, all she ones, and their young, except a two-year-old male. I took a careful aim at him—he was close by and standing side to me—and as it was handy, I rested my gun on a limb of a tree. I took a very good aim, right for his heart, and fired. I don't know where the bullet went, but I am sure that it never hit him, for we could find neither hair nor blood where he had stood nor along his trail. When I shot, the smoke hung like a little cloud before me, and when it blew away, I saw the animals, just as they disappeared into the
*They are porous burnt quartz, that seems to have been thrown up through a seam in the porphyry.
timber down the slope. I was much surprised that I had not killed the animal, most surprised when I found that I had not even hit him, for I had aimed so long and so carefully.
"'You must have hit him,' said my woman. 'Let us look again. We will likely find him lying dead somewhere far away'
"We followed his trail for some distance down in the timber; it was easy to follow, for his track was larger than that of the others; but there was no sign at all that he was hurt. We climbed up on top again, and sat down at the edge of the bare rocks, in the shelter of a low pine. I thought that if we stayed here a while some more bighorn might come along. But none appeared, although we sat and watched until long after the middle of the day. We were about to leave, when a big wolverine appeared, walking among the rocks, smelling and snuffing, sometimes climbing up on top of a big rock to look all around. He looked very pretty, his hair just shining in the sun. He soon came near, and the next time he climbed upon a rock I shot him. He fell off it and hardly kicked. I told my woman to skin it carefully. I knew you would want it to go with those you got last winter. She said that she would tan it very soft, and we would make you a present of it. The bad luck began right there. She cut her hand-the knife slipped-before she had half got the bide off, and I had to finish the work. Then we started homeward. When we got to the horses I tied the skin behind my saddle and got astride. The horse had been standing with his head to the wind, and when I turned him he got the scent of the wolverine for the first time, and it frightened him so that he went crazy. He snorted and made a big high jump down the mountain, and when he struck, the jar threw me off, right on my back into a lot of stones. I thought I was broken in two. The horse went on, jumping, and kicking, and snorting, right into a pile of big rocks, where he got caught by a foreleg, and broke it. As soon as I got my breath and could walk and my woman found my gun, I had to go down and shoot him. We were late getting home, for we rode double on the other horse, and had to hang on it my saddle and other things. One thing we had learned: It was bad luck to kill anything on the painted rocks. Maybe, if I had killed the sheep also, my back would have been really broken when I was thrown by the horse.
"It was some days before I recovered from the soreness caused by my fall. My woman could not tan the wolverine skin on account of her sore hand, so she got a widow to do it. The next morning the old woman brought back the skin. 'Take it,' she said, 'I have been sick all night, and in my dream a wolverine came and tried to bite me. It is bad medicine. I will not tan it.'
"You know old Beaver "Noman? Yes? NVe gave the skin to her. She said that she wasn't afraid of wolverines, that her medicine was stronger than theirs. Well, she took it to her lodge and went to work, fleshed it, put on the liver and brains, rolled it up and laid it away for two or three days. When it was well soaked with the mixture, she cleaned it and began to dry it, working it over the sinew cord, when she suddenly fell over dead for a short time. When she came to life her mouth was drawn around to one side and she could hardly speak, She was that way about four nights. Of course, the skin came back to us. The cut on my wornan's hand had healed, so she went to work and finished the tanning, and without any mishap.
"Day before yesterday we started to move in; my woman packed the skin with other things on the lodge-skin horse. When we made camp in the evening, the skin was missing. Everything else that had been placed in the pack was there, the skin only was gone. While we were wondering how it could have happened, a young man rode up and tossed it to us. 'I found it on the trail,' be said.
"So, you see, this skin is powerful bad medicine. I said that I was going to give it to you, and I now do so. Also I have told you all the evil it has done. I shall not blame you if you throw it in the fire, or otherwise dispose of it. All I ask is that you take it off our hands.
Of course, I accepted the skin. In time it became part of a handsome robe; a small bear skin in the center, the border of six wolverines.
Nät-ah'-ki and I were in the saddle next morning long before the lodges began to come down, and started homeward. It had been a very warm night. Soon after we left camp a light wind sprang up from the north, cold, damp, and with a strong odor of burning grass. We knew the sign well enough; the smoky smell was always the precursor of a storm from the north. "The Cold-maker is near," said Nät-ah'-ki. "Let us hurry on."
Looking back, we saw that the Sweetgrass hills had become enveloped in a dense white fog, which was sweeping southwardwith incredible swiftness. It soon overtook us, and was so thick that we could not see a hundred yards ahead. The sweat on our horses instantly froze; fine particles of frost filled the air; our ears began to tingle, and we covered them vith handkerchiefs. It was useless to attempt to look out a course to the river, so we gave our horses the reins and kept them going, and arrived home before noon. The wind bad steadily increased, the fog had gone, but snow bad taken its place. Winter had come.
Prime robes soon began to come in, and we were kept pretty busy exchanging goods and spirits for them. For convenience, we used brass checks in trading, each check representing one dollar. Having some robes to sell, an Indian would stalk in, followed by one or more of his women carrying them, and, as a rule, he would stand at a little distance, very silent and straight, his robe or blanket partly concealing his face, while we examined them and counted down the checks. Unless he needed a gun or some such expensive article, he generally gave his women a part of the proceeds, and invested the rest himself in whatever took his fancy, tobacco always, generally some liquor. They always wanted to taste of the liquor before buying, and we kept for that purpose a pailful of it and a cup behind the counter, which was four and a half feet in height. There was seldom any objection to the strength of the article we sold, which was alcohol of high proof, mixed with five parts of water. A few moments after one of these extremely haughty customers had taken a drink, his manner changed. He became quite affable and loquacious, and before leaving would sometimes wish to embrace and kiss all present, including the traders. it was not often that any of them became cross with us, their quarrels generally taking place in camp. Nor were they, on the whole, much more quarrelsome than so many white men. We did little trading after dark, most of the people preferring to come in the morning to barter their fur and robes. I never knew a trader who had not some especial and privileged friends, and we were no exception to the rule. Several of these would sometimes come and sit with us of an evening to smoke and tell stories, and every little while either Berry or I would pass around the cup, but not too frequently. It was very interesting to listen to their tales, and queer conceptions of various things.