Indian Boyhood [27]
been whispered through the teepee vil- lage that Uncheedah intended to give a feast in honor of her grandchild's first sacrificial offering. This was mere speculation, however, for the clear- sighted old woman had determined to keep this part of the matter secret until the offering should be completed, believing that the "Great Myste- ry" should be met in silence and dignity.
The boy came rushing into the lodge, followed by his dog Ohitika who was wagging his tail pro- miscuously, as if to say: "Master and I are really hunters!"
Hakadah breathlessly gave a descriptive narra- tive of the killing of each bird and squirrel as he pulled them off his belt and threw them before his grandmother.
"This blunt-headed arrow," said he, "actually had eyes this morning. Before the squirrel can dodge around the tree it strikes him in the head, and, as he falls to the ground, my Ohitika is upon him."
He knelt upon one knee as he talked, his black eyes shining like evening stars.
"Sit down here," said Uncheedah to the boy; "I have something to say to you. You see that you are now almost a man. Observe the game you have brought me! It will not be long be- fore you will leave me, for a warrior must seek opportunities to make him great among his people.
"You must endeavor to equal your father. and grandfather," she went on. "They were warriors and feast-makers. But it is not the poor hunter who makes many feasts. Do you not remember the 'Legend of the Feast-Maker,' who gave forty feasts in twelve moons? And have you for- gotten the story of the warrior who sought the will of the Great Mystery? To-day you will make your first offering to him."
The concluding sentence fairly dilated the eyes of the young hunter, for he felt that a great event was about to occur, in which he would be the principal actor. But Uncheedah resumed her speech.
"You must give up one of your belongings-- whichever is dearest to you--for this is to be a sacrificial offering."
This somewhat confused the boy; not that he was selfish, but rather uncertain as to what would be the most appropriate thing to give. Then, too, he supposed that his grandmother referred to his ornaments and playthings only. So he volunteered:
"I can give up my best bow and arrows, and all the paints I have, and--and my bear's claws necklace, grandmother!"
"Are these the things dearest to you?" she demanded.
"Not the bow and arrows, but the paints will be very hard to get, for there are no white people near; and the necklace--it is not easy to get one like it again. I will also give up my otter- skin head-dress, if you think that is not enough."
"But think, my boy, you have not yet men- tioned the thing that will be a pleasant offering to the Great Mystery."
The boy looked into the woman's face with a puzzled expression.
"I have nothing else as good as those things I have named, grandmother, unless it is my spotted pony; and I am sure that the Great Mystery will not require a little boy to make him so large a gift. Besides, my uncle gave three otter-skins and five eagle-feathers for him and I promised to keep him a long while, if the Blackfeet or the Crows do not steal him."
Uncheedah was not fully satisfied with the boy's free offerings. Perhaps it had not occurred to him what she really wanted. But Uncheedah knew where his affection was vested. His faithful dog, his pet and companion--Hakadah was almost in- separable from the loving beast.
She was sure that it would be difficult to obtain his consent to sacrifice the animal, but she ven- tured upon a final appeal.
"You must remember," she said, "that in this offering you will call upon him who looks at you from every creation. In the wind you hear him whisper to you. He gives his war-whoop in the thunder. He watches you by day with his eye, the sun; at night, he gazes upon your sleeping countenance through the moon. In short, it is the Mystery of Mysteries, who controls all things. to whom you will make your first offering. By this act, you will ask him to grant to you what
The boy came rushing into the lodge, followed by his dog Ohitika who was wagging his tail pro- miscuously, as if to say: "Master and I are really hunters!"
Hakadah breathlessly gave a descriptive narra- tive of the killing of each bird and squirrel as he pulled them off his belt and threw them before his grandmother.
"This blunt-headed arrow," said he, "actually had eyes this morning. Before the squirrel can dodge around the tree it strikes him in the head, and, as he falls to the ground, my Ohitika is upon him."
He knelt upon one knee as he talked, his black eyes shining like evening stars.
"Sit down here," said Uncheedah to the boy; "I have something to say to you. You see that you are now almost a man. Observe the game you have brought me! It will not be long be- fore you will leave me, for a warrior must seek opportunities to make him great among his people.
"You must endeavor to equal your father. and grandfather," she went on. "They were warriors and feast-makers. But it is not the poor hunter who makes many feasts. Do you not remember the 'Legend of the Feast-Maker,' who gave forty feasts in twelve moons? And have you for- gotten the story of the warrior who sought the will of the Great Mystery? To-day you will make your first offering to him."
The concluding sentence fairly dilated the eyes of the young hunter, for he felt that a great event was about to occur, in which he would be the principal actor. But Uncheedah resumed her speech.
"You must give up one of your belongings-- whichever is dearest to you--for this is to be a sacrificial offering."
This somewhat confused the boy; not that he was selfish, but rather uncertain as to what would be the most appropriate thing to give. Then, too, he supposed that his grandmother referred to his ornaments and playthings only. So he volunteered:
"I can give up my best bow and arrows, and all the paints I have, and--and my bear's claws necklace, grandmother!"
"Are these the things dearest to you?" she demanded.
"Not the bow and arrows, but the paints will be very hard to get, for there are no white people near; and the necklace--it is not easy to get one like it again. I will also give up my otter- skin head-dress, if you think that is not enough."
"But think, my boy, you have not yet men- tioned the thing that will be a pleasant offering to the Great Mystery."
The boy looked into the woman's face with a puzzled expression.
"I have nothing else as good as those things I have named, grandmother, unless it is my spotted pony; and I am sure that the Great Mystery will not require a little boy to make him so large a gift. Besides, my uncle gave three otter-skins and five eagle-feathers for him and I promised to keep him a long while, if the Blackfeet or the Crows do not steal him."
Uncheedah was not fully satisfied with the boy's free offerings. Perhaps it had not occurred to him what she really wanted. But Uncheedah knew where his affection was vested. His faithful dog, his pet and companion--Hakadah was almost in- separable from the loving beast.
She was sure that it would be difficult to obtain his consent to sacrifice the animal, but she ven- tured upon a final appeal.
"You must remember," she said, "that in this offering you will call upon him who looks at you from every creation. In the wind you hear him whisper to you. He gives his war-whoop in the thunder. He watches you by day with his eye, the sun; at night, he gazes upon your sleeping countenance through the moon. In short, it is the Mystery of Mysteries, who controls all things. to whom you will make your first offering. By this act, you will ask him to grant to you what