. 
 
 WHITE 
 QUIVER 
 
 HELEN FITZGERAL 
 SANDERS
 
 l).C. RIVERSIDE
 
 fcWsTr.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER
 
 I)\\\S MI>T.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 BY 
 HELEN FITZGERALD SANDERS 
 
 Author of 
 "Trails Through Western Woods" 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DUFFIELD & COMPANY 
 1913
 
 CorrmGMT, 1911 
 
 BY DUKKIKI.U & COMPANY
 
 TO 
 
 HELEN P. CLARKE 
 
 "PI-O-TO-PO-WA-KA" 
 
 IN WHOSE NOBLE CHARACTER 
 
 MINGLES THE BEST OF THE WHITE 
 
 RACE AND THE RED, THIS BOOK 
 
 IS REVERENTLY AND LOVINGLY 
 
 DEDICATED
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Dawn Mist" Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 "In the moon of tender leaves they hunted eggs 
 of water fowl in reed-grown marshes, about 
 little lakes." 12 
 
 "The brow of Eagle Plume was dark.** ... 24 
 
 "Owl Brave ... A finely built body and a 
 haughty carriage marked him with distinc 
 tion." 90 
 
 "He ordered his braves to dismount, and they 
 proceeded afoot to the edge of a cliff over 
 looking the camp." 162 
 
 "Immediately before him, barring the farther 
 vistas with its mighty bulk, Going-tothe- 
 Sun, with earth-abandoning uplift, tossed its 
 horned front into the blue." 184 
 
 "A great warrior . . . followed by the soldiers, 
 rode out to the spot in the forest where the 
 cottonwood grew." 250 
 
 "The chiefs held a council and agreed unwil 
 lingly that it was better to humor their rash 
 youths." 318
 
 THE White Quiver is a story of the 
 Piegan Indians before they felt 
 the influence of the white man. 
 Although it is a romance, it is an attempt 
 to picture the Indian as he actually was, 
 and every myth, custom and ceremonial 
 has been gleaned from the patriarchs of 
 the tribe. 
 
 Of course, where the traditions of a 
 people are handed down by word of 
 mouth instead of in written records, the 
 versions of any given incident must neces 
 sarily vary somewhat in the telling. 
 Imagination, prejudice, vanity and dif 
 ference in viewpoint all lend their pecul 
 iar color to circumstances and events, so 
 we must always allow considerable lati 
 tude in these old, oft-repeated verbal 
 chronicles. Granting such inevitable va- 
 ix
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 nations, I believe I have obtained and 
 presented a true account of the life and 
 ceremonials of the Piegans. The Black- 
 feet nation composed of the confederated 
 tribes of Bloods, North Blackfeet, and 
 North and South Piegans, was anciently 
 a people of dances, festivals and songs. 
 Each season and propitious event, the 
 chase, the war-path, the coming and going 
 of guests and countless other occasions 
 were marked by singing, dancing and 
 feasts. 
 
 Some of the more important of these 
 are described in the White Quiver. The 
 only possible liberty I have taken is in the 
 love feast. There is a difference of opin 
 ion as to whether the maidens kissed the 
 people. Not only have I striven to give 
 these ceremonials faithfully, but I have 
 also endeavored to preserve the old form 
 of speech; the curiously dignified and 
 impressive phraseology of the Indian. 
 And the reader will understand the spirit 
 of the story better if he bears in mind that 
 every description of mountain, lake, love 
 x
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and battle is from the Indian viewpoint 
 and is seen through the medium of his 
 fancy. 
 
 To Mr. Horace J. Clark I am indebted 
 for the myth of the Wind-God and the 
 naming of the Two Medicine Lakes and 
 River. He received it long ago from the 
 Three Suns, who was generally acknowl 
 edged to be Head Chief at the time 
 (about 1837) when the Two Medicine 
 Lodges were built and the pilgrimage 
 was made to Chief Mountain where the 
 Wind-God dwelt. 
 
 My account of the Sun Dance cere 
 monial is based on the statements of Chief 
 Little Dog, Bear Head and other hon 
 ored members of the tribe, interpreted 
 into English for me by Oliver and Rich 
 ard Sanderville. I have used every effort 
 to have the description of this solemn and 
 inspiring religious ceremonial absolutely 
 accurate. The Sun Dance is still given 
 every year, but not with the same elab 
 orate ritual of ancient days; nevertheless, 
 it remains a splendid pageant which every 
 xi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 lover of beauty, symbolism and spontane 
 ous dramatic art should do his utmost to 
 preserve. 
 
 The White Quiver is an old and hon 
 ored name among the Piegans, but the 
 character I have drawn, which aims to 
 portray the noblest in the Indian, is in no 
 sense an account of any person having 
 borne the same title. The other charac 
 ters are likewise creatures of fancy, but 
 they are types of the Indian at his best 
 and his worst. 
 
 There is current a tradition of a pinto 
 medicine pony, also of two war parties 
 that started out on horse-stealing expedi 
 tions, the soldiers of each of which be 
 came faint-hearted and deserted one by 
 one, until the two leaders stood face to 
 face alone, and fought somewhere near 
 the summit of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 The illustrations are the result of the 
 efforts of Hon. Louis W. Hill of St. Paul. 
 He had Indian models posed in Glacier 
 National Park, at various points de 
 scribed in the narrative, and photo- 
 xii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 graphed by well known artists. It would 
 be difficult to estimate the value of these 
 pictures of actual, native types in their 
 old haunts and hunting-grounds. 
 
 I am indebted to many friends among 
 the Piegans who have given me help and 
 encouragement and made me one of their 
 tribe, but especially am I indebted to Mr. 
 Horace J. Clarke and Miss Helen P. 
 Clarke of Glacier Park, children of the 
 gallant Major Malcom E. Clarke whose 
 mountain home I have shared, at whose 
 fireside I have listened to the strange old 
 stories, thrilling with memories of a time 
 that has passed and customs that are no 
 more; where I have watched the aged 
 hunters and warriors live over again the 
 wildly exhilarating scenes of the chase 
 and the war-path, expressed in animated 
 gesture and earnest speech. 
 
 It would not be fitting to close this 
 brief statement without further reference 
 to Helen P. Clarke, "Pi-o-to-po-wa-ka." 
 To her the Indians turn in time of trouble 
 and perplexity, in hunger, sickness and 
 xiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 distress, knowing that in her they have 
 a wise counselor, an unfailing friend and 
 an intellect of which their nation may be 
 proud. In her I have found inspiration 
 and the desire to perpetuate the ideals of 
 her mother's race and to her this book is 
 offered as a loving tribute. 
 
 Helen Fitzgerald Sanders 
 
 "Much-eh-ni-cha." 
 Glacier Park 
 
 February u, 1913. 
 
 xiv
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER
 
 The White Quiver 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE silver cycle of the moons had 
 brought the year to that season 
 of golden mists and blue shad 
 ows called Indian Summer. The leaves 
 had begun to yellow, and flame, the 
 wild geese were flying southward in 
 honking squadrons and the beasts of the 
 wild were getting their winter fur. By 
 these and a hundred other signs the an 
 cient Pipe Stem men of the Piegans knew 
 that the time for the Love Feast had 
 come. 
 
 Following the letter of a law as old as 
 Sach-kum, the Mother Earth, two Medi 
 cine women prepared sacred buffalo 
 tongues and fasted. An O-kon or Medi 
 cine Lodge was built with a center pole 
 of cottonwood, shaded with branches and 
 
 3
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 small evergreen trees. The consecrated 
 structure stood out on the sweep of the 
 prairie which flowed away in ripples and 
 waves to the rim of the horizon where a 
 vast crescent of purple and silver moun 
 tains loomed above the clouds of the 
 western sky. 
 
 When the preparations were complete 
 and the appointed day had come, 
 choruses went forth chanting the joyous 
 tidings and bidding every virgin, brave 
 and matron to be present at the feast. 
 Although this was essentially the festival 
 of the maids, not a youth would have 
 missed it, for the young and chaste 
 daughters of the tribe, at other times 
 jealously guarded, were permitted to kiss 
 the people on that one hallowed day. 
 Therefore the hearts of the braves beat 
 fast with expectation as the leaves turned, 
 the huckleberries and chokecherries ri 
 pened and hoar-frost gleamed in the 
 morning sun. 
 
 Shortly after the choruses had gone 
 singing through the land, bright colored 
 
 4
 
 (THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 cavalcades came riding across the prairie, 
 bringing their finest raiment of fur and 
 elkskin loaded in parfleches on travois 
 and dragging after them evenly matched, 
 peeled lodge poles for their tipis. 
 
 One by one the buffalo hide lodges 
 were erected, each decorated with the 
 history of the warrior or chief to whom 
 it belonged or bearing the mystic symbol 
 of his medicine. They were arranged in 
 a great, double circle, that of Eagle 
 Plume, the head war chief, facing the 
 rising sun. Of all the tipis his was the 
 most splendid and of all the virgins as 
 sembled for the feast, his daughter was 
 the fairest of face and the purest of 
 heart. It was said that when Eagle 
 Plume's wife, the Tall Pine, who was 
 possessed of Sun Power, knew that she 
 was about to become a mother, she went 
 into the solitude to await the coming of 
 her child. And as she waited and 
 prayed, fortifying her soul with strength, 
 the dawn broke and the early morning 
 mists arose in shining shapes over the 
 
 5
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 earth and were lost in the heavens above. 
 At that same moment a girl child opened 
 her eyes on the world and the Tall Pine 
 named her the Dawn Mist because, like 
 the gossamer vapors, she was a child of 
 the dawn. 
 
 When everything was ready, each 
 maid, clad in the finest garment her 
 family could afford, appeared in the 
 Medicine Lodge. Some entered with 
 the bright blush of expectation and some, 
 perhaps, trembled and were afraid. It 
 was a solemn occasion. By this sacred 
 test the virtue of the maids was proved 
 or blasted and should a brave be present 
 who knew that a girl were unfit to eat 
 of the holy tongues, upon pain of destruc 
 tion by Na-to-si, the Sun-God, he must 
 proclaim her shame. There could be no 
 lying or subterfuge, and as a terrible ex 
 ample, a cast out creature shrank far back 
 in the shadow, hiding her noseless face, 
 the brand of shame, beneath her tattered 
 blanket. 
 
 The maidens filed into the hallowed 
 6
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 circle of the Medicine Lodge in the pres 
 ence of the patriarchs and Medicine 
 women and around them stood the spec 
 tators, silent, waiting. 
 
 The music of the drum, the rattle and 
 the sacred songs sounded through the 
 quiet. The impressive ceremony pro 
 ceeded, even to the feast of the tongues 
 and at last the virgins were ready to kiss 
 the people. 
 
 Towering a good head above the war 
 riors about him was a young man of giant 
 stature and noble face. His bronze-col 
 ored, hard-muscled body, which showed 
 the purification of icy waters and stern 
 suppression of the flesh, was bare to the 
 waist save for a snow-white quiver that 
 hung across his shoulders. His legs were 
 lithe with much running; his chest was 
 broad and deep with full-lunged breaths 
 of mountain air and his far-visioning eyes 
 had the keen, sweeping glance of a 
 dweller in the wilderness. He was sim 
 ply clad in buckskin leggins, moccasins 
 and a stout belt which held a short knife. 
 
 7
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 On his black-mancd head was a war-eagle 
 bonnet that fell in a double series of 
 plumes to the ground. Beside him rested 
 his shield and spear. During the long 
 hours of the ceremony he stood stoically 
 calm with his arms folded over his breast. 
 Only his eyes moved and they followed 
 the Dawn Mist. 
 
 His great size, his clean hewn features 
 or the dazzling white quiver which was 
 his emblem, caused men to turn and look 
 at him again. One of the braves stared 
 at him fixedly, almost challengingly, as 
 he noted the direction of the young man's 
 gaze. 
 
 He, oblivious to the people about him, 
 watched the Dawn Mist in a dream of 
 wonder. Her black hair and pale face 
 were like the meeting place of the night 
 and day. She seemed to him to be a crea 
 ture of the clouds, a pale, fair silvery 
 mist of the morning that shapes itself for 
 an instant against the blue, then is lost, 
 less of a reality than an illusion. 
 
 When the virgins passed by and he 
 8
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 stooped to receive their chaste tribute, 
 their kisses fell as coldly as rain upon him 
 until the Dawn Mist in her creamy elkskin 
 garment, trimmed with white winter 
 weasels, elks' teeth and porcupine quills, 
 paused before him. The intensity of his 
 desire drew her dark eyes to his and 
 drenched her cheek with crimson. As he 
 felt her lips upon his own, a thrill vi 
 brated through his great body, a fire 
 leaped in his veins and he trembled. 
 Then, swift as a butterfly, she was gone. 
 
 The light vanished from the White 
 Quiver's soul and he remembered no 
 more. 
 
 9
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE sun beat down upon the 
 world in a fury of white heat. 
 His devouring beams scorched 
 prairie and woodland and sucked the 
 sources of the streams until only limp 
 trickles of water showed where boister 
 ous torrents had been. There was noth 
 ing to eat; nothing to drink. Ponies 
 were dropping in their tracks on the 
 quivering, crisped trails, while overhead 
 black buzzards circled in the burning 
 blue. The Piegans seemed to be doomed 
 and the awe-struck people stared at each 
 other helplessly out of scared, sunken 
 eyes. 
 
 Just at this time some young men of 
 the Brave Band, sent out by Eagle Plume 
 to reconnoiter the country, discovered a 
 stream flowing almost undiminished 
 through banks of green, and three beauti- 
 10
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ful lakes, set one above the other. There 
 berries grew in ripeness and plenty. 
 The news was proclaimed through the 
 lodges and the order given to break camp 
 and march for the one last spot that did 
 not bear the fatal brand of drought and 
 famine. 
 
 It proved to be as the young men of 
 the Brave Band had said. Through the 
 scorched prairie land, bordered by pleas 
 ant woods of pine and quaking asp and 
 silver poplar, rushed a cold, deep river 
 green with the liquid emerald of virginal 
 purity, flashing white now and again 
 around a hindering stone and rippling in 
 elfin glee over the mosaic of pebbles in 
 its bed. Here was delicious, cool 
 shadow; here was drink, ah! the magic 
 of the word! and here also were masses 
 of sarvisberry bushes, purple with lus 
 cious, ripe fruit. 
 
 To this spot came Eagle Plume and his 
 
 followers, the largest band of the tribe 
 
 and with him were his wife, the Tall 
 
 Pine, his daughter, the Dawn Mist and 
 
 ii
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 her half-mad, moon-gazing brother the 
 Night Wind, who lightened the way with 
 jests and laughed in the face of death. 
 That was ever the boy's way, for the 
 Great Mystery had not taught him what 
 danger meant. 
 
 There was a strange resemblance be 
 tween the Dawn Mist and her brother, 
 not so much when her features were in 
 repose as when she was startled or afraid. 
 Then the wildness of her nature, which 
 was commonly dormant and controlled, 
 flashed into being and made her seem like 
 him in whom ungoverned wildness held 
 sway. Therefore the likeness seemed 
 rather of spirit than of flesh. There was 
 a subtle understanding between them. 
 She was often his companion in his im 
 petuous ramblings. In the moon of 
 tender leaves they hunted eggs of water 
 fowl in reed-grown marshes about little 
 lakes, braving the Su-ye-tup-pi, or Under- 
 Water people. What fearful pleasure 
 there was in this! Every cloud-shadow, 
 every ripple on the clear surface of the 
 12
 
 mi: MOON or TI:NI:I:II U;AVI:S TIIKY IITXTKI) FJ;CS OK W.VTKK 
 KO\VI. IN i(i:i-:ii-(iii(i\\'N MAitsiiKs, AKOTT i.rrri.i: i VKKS."
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 pool might be an Under-Water person 
 come to seize them! But once they 
 secured the beautiful, pale-greenish, 
 speckled eggs, they hurried off trium 
 phantly to roast them and feast. Some 
 times, too, there were water-lilies in the 
 lakes, discs of gold which the Night 
 Wind gathered for his sister's hair, 
 wreathing the voluptuous blossoms 
 around her head until she looked like a 
 water-siren herself and he was half afraid 
 of her. They picked chokecherries, 
 sarvisberries, huckleberries and all the 
 luscious fruits of the plain and mountain 
 side. The Dawn Mist was woodland- 
 wise. She knew where the rarest flowers 
 grew; where the squirrels hid their win 
 ter stores; where the coney and the whis 
 tling marmot played ; where the shy water 
 ouzel built her nest by the fall and where 
 yellow breasts and blue birds sang. And 
 she told the Night Wind beautiful, fanci 
 ful things about the wood folk and the 
 winged hosts of upper air, the birds, the 
 butterflies that are sleep bringers, the 
 
 13
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 dragon flies with iridescent wings and the 
 clouds that fly above them all. She wove 
 for him gilt and rainbow fancy with dull 
 reality until the Night Wind's unbalanced 
 mind was bright with fleeting glimpses of 
 many things, like the momentary flash of 
 blue wings in the gold light of the sun. 
 
 Those happy days were gone but now 
 in the face of starvation they clung to 
 gether. 
 
 Eagle Plume halted at the river that 
 O-ma-qui-tos or Wolf Medicine, the wis 
 est of the patriarchs, might smoke the 
 sacred pipe and offer thanks to Na-to-si, 
 the Sun-God, who, through some fault of 
 his earth children, was scourging them 
 with almighty wrath. They paused and 
 prayed and rested, then Eagle Plume, 
 leaving behind him his wife and children, 
 rode on ahead to look the country over 
 and find the best camping ground. The 
 young men of the Brave Band led him 
 up the stream to a lake that spread its 
 clear waters among wooded shores. At 
 its head stood the mighty gray-blue moun-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 tain, Ma-qui-o-po-ach-sin, the Rising 
 Wolf, its ponderous haunches whitened 
 with snow, its stone muzzle thrust de 
 fiantly into the hot, blue sky. 
 
 "Here we will camp," said Eagle 
 Plume. 
 
 And as he said so it was done. The 
 painted tipis rose amid the green, the 
 famished people lay on the ground and 
 ate with the ferocious hunger of wild 
 beasts and drank deep and long and often 
 of the cold waters to quench the fever in 
 their blood. Others came and yet others, 
 until hosts poured over the plains to this 
 refuge and lodges were pitched from the 
 forks of the river to the second lake, a 
 distance of several miles. But soon the 
 grass was trampled beneath the tread of 
 crowding hoofs, cropped close by the 
 ceaseless tearing of hunger-strengthened 
 jaws; the sarvisberry bushes which had 
 been heavy and purple with fruit, were 
 stripped stark and bare. It was as though 
 a plague of locusts had shorn the little 
 land of plenty beside the stream.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 There was an old woman among the 
 tribe called Ky-O, which means the 
 grizzly bear. And as the grizzly is the 
 one creature most dreaded because he is 
 possessed of a potently wicked spirit, so 
 the woman Ky-O, his namesake, was like 
 wise feared. When she came or whence, 
 no one knew, yet the oldest men remem 
 bered her in their youth and even then she 
 was a withered hag. It was whispered 
 that she had an evil eye and truly it was 
 unlike that of any human being. Beneath 
 the film of years showed a murky blue 
 with a rim of yellow and when the hag 
 fell into rages, as she often did, and called 
 down curses upon her enemies, a terrible 
 light, as of fire, darted from those un 
 earthly orbs. The Piegans believed that 
 she could conjure up deadly spells and 
 there were stories of unfortunates who had 
 withered away under the malice of her 
 will. She was a creature of mystery. 
 Often she disappeared for days to com 
 mune (so it was said) with the powers of 
 darkness. It was also whispered that she 
 16
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 had secret caves in the mountains where 
 Ky-O, her accursed kind, came and in 
 structed her in their medicine. Some 
 went so far as to assert that at will she 
 could assume the form of a grizzly bear. 
 A lean, gray wolf-dog, with dripping lip 
 snarling over his fangs, always followed 
 at her heels. 
 
 She had been gone from the new moon 
 to its fullness when one day she appeared 
 at the camp on the lowest lake. Little 
 children ran out of the tipis to look at her 
 askance and the dogs barked at her as she 
 passed. 
 
 She stopped by the lodge of Eagle 
 Plume, where he, with the Tall Pine and 
 the Dawn Mist were resting in the shadow 
 from the great heat of the day. 
 
 "Hai ye! Chief," she shrilled. "I am 
 poor. I have no fine pelts and feathers. 
 I grub, like striped-face, the badger, for 
 the bite I eat. I am poor, but I know 
 -nany things. I am not as the grasshopper 
 who sings and takes no heed of to-mor 
 row. 
 
 '7
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "Listen to me. I will speak straight. 
 
 "You and your people have filled your 
 bellies and stripped the last berry from the 
 bushes. You have come like gluttons 
 and robbed the land. Sach-kum, the 
 Mother Earth is angry. The Under- 
 Ground persons are angry. The Medi 
 cine Animals are angry. Yet you sleep 
 and rest, wise chief, and proud woman 
 and moon-faced maid. I have been far 
 away and seen and heard. 
 
 "The fires are kindling! 
 
 "Their roar will be hoarse in your ears 
 before the sun sets thrice! 
 
 "Death threatens you alll" 
 
 While she spoke a crowd gathered and 
 she laughed, a shrill, cracked treble 
 laugh, to see the terror in their staring 
 eyes and drawn faces. They listened in 
 awe to her words. There were many 
 signs to point to the truth of what she 
 said. Ever since the Medicine Pinto 
 Pony of the tribe had been stolen in the 
 moon of yellowing leaves, ill luck had 
 been their portion. The loss of the pony 
 18
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 was an evil sign. Soon after it disap 
 peared, its owner, Clear Water, father of 
 the White Quiver and rival of Eagle 
 Plume had fallen sick and not even the 
 skill of the best medicine men could save 
 him. Likewise the game vanished as by 
 black magic; the winter came, a gaol of 
 ice and snow which held them prisoners 
 until the dry, parched moon of blighted 
 flowers threatened them with new disaster. 
 Ky-O was right. Every bit of moisture 
 had been licked up by the thirsty sun, the 
 trees were as tinder and fires would surely 
 come. 
 
 Eagle Plume spoke half-hearted, reas 
 suring words but his tribesmen shook 
 their heads and said: 
 
 "She has heard these things from her 
 kin, the grizzly bears. What she fore 
 tells will come true." 
 
 And as she had prophesied, before 
 three sunsets, thin blue spirals of smoke 
 were seen rising from distant forests. 
 The spirals swelled into great, gray and 
 yellow billows that hid the sky. And 
 
 19
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 through the opal drift the sun burned ray- 
 less, vermilion, by day, and the moon 
 showed like a blood stain by night. The 
 fury of those forest fires grew and the 
 heavens glowed as a brazen bowl, and 
 with the deepening shadows of night the 
 reflection of the flames glowed infernally 
 where the pale stars were wont to shine. 
 Closer and closer came the red menace. 
 The dry trees caught with the least spark 
 and the fire ran in long, nimble, orange- 
 gold fingers from ridge to ridge, from 
 mountain to mountain. There was some 
 thing horribly playful about it. Up the 
 boles of the tallest pines it coiled, lapping 
 and caressing as it devoured; finally 
 bursting in a whirlwind of blinding 
 bright sparks above the utmost crests of 
 the tortured trees. 
 
 The people watched and waited, some 
 awed into stony calm, others frantic with 
 fear. But the Night Wind laughed in 
 wild joy. He loved the brave, free fire 
 with its mad pranks and spectacular 
 flights. 
 
 20
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "Ah! to be a fire!" he cried as he 
 watched it. "To fly, fly in a flood of 
 flame on the wind; to go leaping from 
 tree to tree and run light as a breath to 
 the mountain tops! That would be liv- 
 ing!" 
 
 At such times the Dawn Mist took him 
 in her arms and soothed him with stories 
 until his restless spirit was calmed with 
 sleep. 
 
 Eagle Plume called a council and by 
 the advice of the chief Medicine men de 
 termined that something be done to 
 propitiate the anger of Na-to-si, the Sun- 
 God. After grave consideration the 
 council decided to build two medicine 
 lodges, one at the forks of the river and 
 one on the shore of the lowest lake, and 
 that seven patriarchs be sent into each of 
 the lodges to fast and pray. 
 
 The lodges were built with ceremony 
 and care, in accordance with the tradi 
 tions of the tribe and when they were 
 completed, seven of the wisest and most 
 aged men entered each lodge. 
 21
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 They remained without food or com 
 munion with the world until seven times 
 the sun rose and set. Then they came 
 forth and gave the assembled chiefs and 
 warriors the message of the Great Mys 
 tery. In their devotional meditations He 
 had revealed to them that eight brave and 
 learned men of the nation must be chosen 
 to make a pilgrimage to Ne-nas-ta-ko, the 
 Chief Mountain of the North. There at 
 sunrise the Wind-God would appear and 
 as he paused to hail the dawn, they must 
 intercede with him for the people. 
 
 Eight fearless men were selected, 
 mostly those seasoned with the experience 
 of age but among them was the young 
 Owl Brave, a man of few years but many 
 deeds, a favorite of Eagle Plume and in 
 spite of his youth, leader of the Mosquito 
 Band of the I-kun-uh-kah-tsi. They were 
 given the best mounts and escorted by 
 warriors far out over the prairie where 
 they were lost to view in the smoke. Long 
 after the marching column had disap 
 peared, through the silence of the camp 
 22
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 sounded the faintling echo of a song of 
 hope. 
 
 The people waited but the dawns wore 
 into nights and the nights faded into 
 mere, ghostly shadows of days, and always 
 there was the smothering smoke and the 
 menace of the fire. They were hopeful 
 at first, then after a while, spent much 
 time trying to explain the delay. The 
 journey was long, they knew, and besides, 
 the Wind-God might not show himself 
 at once. But as time passed and infants 
 wailed with hunger as they sucked in 
 vain at their mothers' parched breasts; 
 as the dull pain of starvation wracked the 
 elders; as the gaunt ponies fell and the 
 buzzards fed greedily on their carcasses, 
 the waiting tribe began to despair. 
 
 Each day runners were sent out to look 
 for the delegation and at last they re 
 turned, proclaiming to the camp that the 
 wise men from Chief Mountain were 
 close at hand. It was true. They had 
 come, but by their averted eyes and de 
 jected mien it was plain that they brought 
 
 23
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 bad tidings. Slowly and painfully the 
 leader of the little band told the story be 
 fore Eagle Plume. He and his fellows 
 had reached Ne-nas-ta-ko, the Chief 
 Mountain, scaled its steep ascent even to 
 its ultimate peak and there they waited. 
 As the patriarchs had prophesied, out of 
 the bowels of the mountain, the Wind- 
 God arose, a shining figure of mighty 
 size, with white wings spreading from 
 either side of his head, naked save for a 
 garment of golden fleece. He towered 
 gigantic and terrible in his might. He 
 looked toward the rising sun, faced 
 about to the sunset, to the Cold Country 
 and the Warm Country, and was gone! 
 Not one among them had the courage 
 to intercede for the starving people. 
 During three days they waited and 
 thrice the Spirit came and went, and in 
 that time no word of supplication was 
 uttered. 
 
 On all sides the death wail of starvation 
 sounded through the lodges. Cracking 
 lips muttered curses and bony fists were 
 24
 
 THE BROW OK EAGl.F. I'M'ME WAS DARK.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 shaken threateningly at the men who had 
 betrayed their trust and failed. 
 
 The brow of Eagle Plume was dark. 
 He called a second council and once more 
 the patriarchs went into the two Medicine 
 Lodges to fast, to pray and to listen for 
 the message of the Great Mystery. Then 
 they delivered the sacred command. It 
 was this. Twice the original number of 
 the wisest, strongest and most courageous 
 warriors should be sent to Ne-nas-ta-ko, 
 the Chief Mountain to intercede with the 
 Wind-God. With great care the new 
 delegation was chosen at a public as 
 sembly. One after another was named, 
 until there lacked but one to complete the 
 sixteen. In the silence of indecision that 
 had fallen on the council, a young man 
 who had sat far back, listening, stood on 
 his feet. He was huge of stature and the 
 muscles swelled in welts of bronze over 
 his chest and back and in his lithe arms. 
 He was a youth of noble countenance and 
 he wore a snow-white quiver. He held 
 up one hand to stay the council and 
 
 25
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 walked straight to where Eagle Plume sat 
 in the center of the great circle, facing the 
 sun. 
 
 "Oh, Chief 1" said the young man, and 
 his voice rang loud and clear, "I have had 
 a dream. It was a good dream. Grant 
 that I may go. If I fail to pray the Wind- 
 God for food and drink for the people, 
 may the Great Spirit strike me dead I 1 ' 
 
 The Owl Brave half rose in protest, but 
 someone plucked him down again. 
 
 Eagle Plume looked long and question- 
 ingly into the youth's eyes. 
 
 "By what great coup have you earned 
 the right to go?" 
 
 "It is not by what I have done, but by 
 what my spirit is strong to do, that I ask 
 to face the Wind-God," the White Quiver 
 replied. 
 
 After a silence, quick with suspense, 
 Eagle Plume said slowly: "White 
 Quiver, your father was my enemy, but 
 he was a brave and noble man. My 
 heart feels good toward you I I believe 
 you have his courage. Go! Prove your- 
 26
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 self fearless. If you return successful, 
 you will be a chief among the people." 
 
 The White Quiver bowed low. Be 
 neath his skin the blood flowed hot. 
 
 "Unless I face the Wind-God and de 
 mand of him the rain, I shall not return," 
 he answered. 
 
 The sixteen patriarchs and warriors, 
 headed by O-ma-qui-tos or Wolf Medi 
 cine, the leader of the wise men, mounted 
 and were gone, and there followed them 
 across the burning hot gold of the prairie, 
 he death cry of the dying and the moans 
 of these who wept their loved ones' fate. 
 The horror of it sank deep into the White 
 Quiver's heart, and he swore to Na-to-si, 
 the Sun, Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, the Moon, 
 Epi-so-ax, the Morning Star and Sach- 
 kum, the Mother Earth that he would 
 not fail. But more than the death wail 
 of the dying or the lament of the be 
 reaved, the thought of the Dawn Mist 
 as he had seen her last, mettled him to 
 great deeds. He had chanced to come 
 upon her in the dusk, beside the lodge 
 27
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 of Eagle Plume and she looked more than 
 ever like the frail and fleeting mountain 
 mists that float away in the early morn. 
 She, too, was starving. The sight had 
 made his heart leap in his breast like a 
 lion from its lair. He had determined 
 then, to offer himself to the Council to 
 save her, and the people. He lived it 
 all over again as he rode across the prairie 
 through the falling cinders and the low 
 hanging smoke. 
 
 The party pressed on by day, resting 
 at night under the brazen sky. They 
 swung around the lower of the two 
 Walled-in or Entrance Lakes, passed the 
 slopes of the Yellow Mountain to where 
 Ne-nas-ta-ko, the Chief, reared his coral 
 cone against the sky. They waited on 
 the mountain-top during one long night. 
 At last, the dawn stole ghostly-pale across 
 the sky. 
 
 The White Quiver crouched low, his 
 
 thews flint hard, his teeth drawing blood 
 
 from his lip. With wide eyes he watched 
 
 the flush of the sunrise blossom like a 
 
 28
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 wild rose in the east. It was as though 
 he were upon an island floating in a sea 
 of vapor. Above, the air was clear; be 
 low the smoke rolled in an opal sea. 
 Broad bars of red-gold spanned the heav 
 ens ; the world thrilled with a great awak 
 ening as the disc of fire appeared on the 
 edge of the horizon. At the same mo 
 ment a shining figure of heroic size rose 
 from the depths of the mountain where 
 primordial fires had burned, and soared 
 high towards the sky. His divine, yet 
 terrible head, from which grew and 
 spread two white wings, was crowned 
 with cloud plumes and illuminated by 
 the first rays of the rising sun. His eyes, 
 which shone with the mellow glow of the 
 young sunbeams and gazed out afar 
 through space, past time, into infinity, 
 cradled the lightning. His closed lips 
 held back the thunderbolt, his wings set 
 in motion the four winds. On his naked 
 body he wore a fleece of gold and around 
 him shone an aureole of light. He 
 looked towards the sunrise, faced slowly 
 29
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 about to the sunset, to the region of snow 
 and to the land of summer. The sixteen 
 watchers were as dead men in his awful 
 presence. 
 
 The White Quiver was blinded and 
 overcome. He saw the god salute the 
 day and face the cardinal points. All 
 power was gone from him, when, sud 
 denly, the thought of the Dawn Mist 
 rushed across his mind. Awful strength 
 came to his body and heart and he 
 sprang fiercely at the Wind-God, barely 
 grasping the flowing fringes of his 
 golden fleece. The White Quiver 
 dropped on his knees and his voice rolled 
 through the silence of the mountains and 
 the dawn. 
 
 "O! Wind-God," he cried. "You who 
 cause the winds to blow and the rain to 
 fall, hear me! The women and children 
 in our lodges are starving. There is no 
 meat to eat. The berries are gone. 
 The streams are dry. And now the fires 
 burst from the timber and threaten to de 
 stroy us. Have mercy, Master of the 
 
 30
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Elements. Send us rain. Send us the 
 buffalo. Save us 1" 
 
 The Shining Spirit stood motionless a 
 moment, then his white wings fluttered, 
 and obedient to their motion a cool breeze 
 leaped out of the breathless void. He 
 raised his mighty arm and pointed with a 
 finger of light in the direction of the Red 
 Hills. 
 
 Then the god vanished and was gone. 
 
 At first the wind blew in little, uncer 
 tain gusts, then it swelled into a rush 
 ing volume like the tide of a rolling 
 sea, breaking in huge, life-giving waves 
 upon them. Harder and stronger it 
 blew, flocks of clouds drifted over the 
 heavens and a dense canopy obscured the 
 sun. A raindrop splashed on the White 
 Quiver's upturned face. Another and 
 another fell and the earth exhaled the 
 wonderful, fresh fragrance that it gives 
 forth when rain moistens sun-heated 
 ground. With a glint of violet lightning 
 and a crash of thunder, the clouds deep 
 ened into steel-blue, vapory masses which
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 poured down saving floods. For three 
 whole days and nights it rained and when 
 the clouds cleared and the sun shone 
 again, it was upon a transfigured world. 
 The forest fires were quenched, the fever 
 ish heat was gone and new life was every 
 where. 
 
 After the wise men and warriors, led by 
 the White Quiver, started on their home 
 ward journey, an event scarcely less mirac 
 ulous than the appearance of the Wind- 
 God took place. The earth was firm 
 after the rain and plainly imprinted on 
 its damp surface, the White Quiver saw 
 the hoof prints of a cradle-footed horse. 
 He knew the hoof prints well. They 
 were those of the lost Pinto Pony! 
 
 He and his fellows followed the tracks 
 until they came upon the Pony, feeding 
 on a few parched bunches of buffalo 
 grass. The little animal had grown so 
 thin that its bones showed beneath its 
 loose hide. As soon as it saw its young 
 master, it raised its head, whinnied 
 shrilly, then galloped, at full speed, to 
 
 32
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 meet him. The Great Medicine of the 
 Piegans was recovered and the White 
 Quiver knew that the prediction of the 
 Wind-God would be fulfilled. 
 
 As the party approached the camp 
 near the two Medicine Lodges, shouts 
 of joy rang in their ears. Across 
 the prairie, which already showed velvet 
 green, a gay cavalcade rode out to greet 
 the triumphant delegation. They were 
 escorted to the lodge of Eagle Plume, 
 who sat upon his couch, just beneath his 
 Medicine Bundle, robed in princely 
 splendor. To his right sat an ancient 
 Pipe Stem man. The Dawn Mist stood 
 near her father, holding the sacred pipe. 
 
 The wise men and warriors entered and 
 took their places before the Great Chief. 
 
 The Dawn Mist filled the pipe with 
 I'herb and handed it to the Pipe Stem 
 man. He presented it to the sun say 
 ing: 
 
 "O! Na-to-si, have pity, have charity. 
 Smile upon my kinsfolk, the Piegans, and 
 upon all the people!" 
 
 33
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 He turned the pipe south, north, east 
 and west, crossed it, took one deep whiff, 
 rubbing his breast as he did so, to purify 
 himself. Then he offered it to the 
 Mother Earth, saying: 
 
 "O! Sach-kum, have pity, have charity. 
 Smile upon my kinsfolk, the Piegans, and 
 upon all the people." 
 
 The pipe was passed from mouth to 
 mouth, from east to west around the cir 
 cle. Only the Pipe Stem man smoked 
 a second time as the Pipe was finally 
 passed back to him. 
 
 After this was done, Wolf Medicine, 
 the oldest of the wise men and Ni-namp- 
 skan or Medicine men, who led the 
 party to Chief Mountain, told the story 
 of their adventure. He was an impres 
 sive figure as he stood before the Great 
 Chief, his long, white hair falling to his 
 shoulders which bent beneath the piled- 
 up years, his fine face lined with epoch- 
 marking antiquity. He was a man of 
 surpassing sapience and distinction, and 
 
 34
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the dignity of his age added weight to 
 the wonderful tale. 
 
 Eagle Plume listened attentively to 
 each syllable and at last, calling the 
 White Quiver to him, he said: 
 
 "Your heart is strong. Your spirit 
 is great. You shall be called chief in the 
 councils. You have saved our people." 
 
 The White Quiver trembled with joy 
 but he could find no words to reply for 
 he felt the eyes of the Dawn Mist upon 
 him.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE young men of the different 
 bands went crying through the 
 lodges the glorious news that 
 when Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, the moon hung 
 like a slender yellow rind in the sky, the 
 tribe would march to the Red Hills to 
 hunt buffalo, in obedience to the sign of 
 the Wind-God. They bade the people, 
 by order of Eagle Plume, to assemble in 
 his lodge to honor the White Quiver who 
 had delivered them from the curse that 
 had been upon them. 
 
 The hunters felt the old lust of the 
 chase. Their wasted limbs became 
 strong; a new gleam kindled in their dull 
 eyes and they began at once to busy them 
 selves looking over their arms and cloth 
 ing, to see that all was fit for the hunt. 
 
 The spirit of the White Quiver was 
 
 36
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 possessed of a mighty energy that beat 
 within him like a raging tide. The very 
 soul of him surged and he longed to leap 
 and bound like a wild thing, in sheer 
 abandon of joy. In spite of poverty, of 
 youth, of the old feud between his father, 
 Clear Water and Eagle Plume, he had 
 won his place of honor in the tribe. All 
 day, in his simple lodge, which bore no 
 painted record of great deeds, he sat, out 
 wardly calm and impassive, while his 
 tribesmen crowded about him to hear 
 more of the adventure on Chief Moun 
 tain. But when evening fell, darkly blue 
 as the petals of the gentian flower, and 
 the lingering people went their several 
 ways to prepare for the ceremony, he 
 bounded off through the shadows. Some 
 power irresistible was calling, calling out 
 of the solitude, and his spirit rushed to 
 meet it and mingle with it in the mys 
 tery of the night. The stars splashed the 
 purple sky with cold, white light. The 
 black pines traced lacy patterns against 
 the silver sheen and up out of the earth 
 
 37
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 came balsam odors, like incense, that 
 stirred holy, half-forgotten memories. 
 The White Quiver hurried on, leaping 
 over rocks and brake until the wild song 
 of a waterfall sounded in his ears. The 
 terrible music stirred in him huge, primal 
 emotions. Freedom, strength, power 
 that knows no bound or bond, it sang and 
 he answered aloud : 
 
 "You speak brave words, 1 Fall ! My 
 spirit shall be even as you are, all free 
 dom, strength and power that knows no 
 bound or bond." 
 
 The voice of the fall and that of the 
 White Quiver mingled and sounded 
 through the still night. 
 
 He did not stop nor hesitate until he 
 came to the place where the river issues 
 from a natural tunnel in the cliffs and 
 drops with a glint of churning foam 
 and a thunderous roar into its bed be 
 low. 
 
 He stood there palpitating under the 
 caress of the wilderness; gazing rapt 
 and receptive at the fall and beyond it 
 
 38
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 at the vast, black mass of Ma-qui-o-po- 
 ach-sin, the Rising Wolf, cutting boldly 
 into the heavens. Floating about the 
 mountain's summit, drifted a nebulous 
 mist, star-lit and shining and fleeting as 
 a passing breath in the night. As he 
 stood, he heard a stealthy footfall and 
 instinctively his right hand grasped the 
 hilt of the knife which he carried at his 
 hip. He turned to face the approaching 
 thing, when, out of the curtain of dark 
 ness stepped the Dawn Mist. A cry 
 came up out of his heart, the dagger 
 dropped from his relaxed fingers and 
 with one leap he was beside her. Yet 
 as he came near her he retreated a step. 
 She seemed, in some inexplicable way, to 
 be as far removed, as little of the flesh as 
 the star-lit mist on the mountain top. 
 Her garments of cream buckskin showed 
 white in the star-glow and she wore over 
 her black hair, around her pale oval face 
 a head dress made of feathers of the 
 white swan. She stopped abruptly at 
 sight of him and her breath came fast. 
 
 39
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 They looked at each other a long mo 
 ment, then he said : 
 
 "You are alone?" 
 
 "Yes." Her voice was low and sweet 
 as a wind song. "I was stifling in 
 the lodge. The heat, the people, I 
 wanted to fly." 
 
 "Tell me," said the White Quiver, "did 
 something out of the night call you, 
 some power you could not see nor hear 
 nor yet resist?" 
 
 She bent her head. 
 
 "It is so," she answered. 
 
 "Then we were both drawn by the same 
 force, here to each other," he cried, and 
 his arms were about her and his lips fell 
 on her face, raining hot kisses. 
 
 "Listen," he continued. "Since that 
 day at the Love Feast when you kissed 
 me, do you recall it you have been the 
 pure stream of my life that has watered 
 my parched heart and made it bloom. 
 Wherever I have been, you have been 
 with me. I have seen you in the clouds, 
 in the wind-dancing trees, on the moun- 
 40
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 tain tops and the levels of the prairie and 
 in the gold-rayed Evening Star. I have 
 seen you everywhere and always. And at 
 night I have dreamed of you. For you, 
 not the tribe I went to Chief Mountain. 
 For.you I braved the Wind-God. I love 
 you." 
 
 He was showering kisses upon her 
 again, holding her tight against his throb 
 bing breast, when she struggled to free 
 herself and looked at him with something 
 of terror in her eyes. 
 
 "We do wrong," she said. "If my fa 
 ther knew . . . O! I would not bring 
 harm to you in your hour of glory!" 
 
 "Wait!" said the White Quiver. 
 "Tell me, do you love me?" 
 
 She lifted her eyes to his and her soul 
 spoke through them. 
 
 Once more he pressed her to him and 
 she swayed in his arms as a young pine in 
 the embrace of the lover-wind. 
 
 A strange, cracked, unearthly laugh 
 fell discordantly, hideously on the silence 
 and an old woman, bent almost double,
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 like a horned moon, appeared. It was 
 Ky-O, the witch woman, she of the evil 
 eye, and at her heels came her wolf-dog, 
 his eyes showing green in the blackness. 
 
 The Dawn Mist tottered and grew faint 
 with fear. The White Quiver held her 
 and sternly faced the hag. The wicked, 
 glee-laughter broke again and again in 
 peals of horrid mirth. 
 
 "Hai ye! Fools, fools, fools kissing 
 over blood drip and bleaching bones 1" 
 she cried. 
 
 "What mean you, hag?" demanded the 
 White Quiver. 
 
 "Fools, fools, fools kissing over blood 
 drip and bleaching bones!" 
 
 The sinister words smote them both 
 with dread. The Dawn Mist strove to 
 shut out the hateful sound by pressing 
 her hands to her ears, but it penetrated 
 deep into her heart. What did she know, 
 she of the dim, blear eyes that saw not 
 the things of earth but those beyond, that 
 she should say this ghastly riddle? Even 
 after she and her lean, gray wolf-dog, 
 
 42
 
 with hanging tongue and sharp fangs, had 
 passed on, the White Quiver and the 
 Dawn Mist felt the thrall of impending 
 evil upon them. He spoke comforting 
 words but they were hollow. He kissed 
 her but the kisses withered like blighted 
 flowers. 
 
 "It must be time for the ceremony in 
 my father's lodge. We shall be missed 1" 
 cried the Dawn Mist with new alarm. 
 
 "We will hurry back," he answered, 
 "but listen, Dawn Mist; swear to me by 
 the Sun, the Moon and the flowering 
 Earth, that in spite of the powers of dark 
 ness, of enemies and death itself, you will 
 be forever mine." 
 
 "I will be yours," she answered, "if not 
 in this world, then in the Great White 
 Desert of Eternity." 
 
 "When we return from the buffalo hunt 
 in the Red Hills, I shall ask your father 
 for you and give him all I own in offer 
 for your hand," he said. 
 
 They kissed each other once again be 
 neath the stars. 
 
 43
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "O ! daughter of my Chief 1 O ! White 
 Mist of the Dawn!" he whispered. 
 
 She pressed into his hand a token the 
 necklace of white shells which she had 
 worn at her throat. 
 
 Then they hurried off like frightened 
 children in the night, to join the gather 
 ing assembly at the lodge of Eagle Plume, 
 
 44
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 THE lodge of Eagle Plume was 
 the largest and finest in the 
 tribe. It was made of buffalo 
 hides cunningly fastened together and 
 upon the smooth surface of its exterior, 
 in multi-colored pigments, were painted 
 the Chief's adventures in the hunt and 
 on the war-path. The life story told by 
 the pictures, which were much the same 
 in spirit and often in form, as the heroic 
 picture-annals of the ancient Egyptians, 
 was as thrilling as romance and showed 
 Eagle Plume to be a man of many deeds. 
 Episode followed episode with dramatic 
 sequence, culminating in the grand coup 
 that made him head chief and his wife, 
 the Tall Pine, first woman of the nation. 
 
 This occasion was a battle between the 
 Assiniboines and Piegans, in the Cypress 
 hills. During the struggle, as the blood- 
 
 45
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 drunk warriors fought breast to breast, 
 hacking with knife and lunging with 
 spear, Eagle Plume and the Tall Pine, 
 who had followed him into battle, were 
 cut off and took refuge in a grove of 
 small, lodgepole pines covering a hillock. 
 They were discovered and attacked by a 
 war party of Assiniboines who charged 
 the hill furiously, shouting the war-cry 
 in anticipation of victory. As the enemy 
 dashed at the vantage point of Eagle 
 Plume and the Tall Pine, she, even with 
 the arrows singing their shrill death 
 song in her ears, paused serene with faith, 
 and made a prayer to the sun, then with 
 the courage of a warrior took her place 
 by her husband's side and fought with 
 him. Theirs were as charmed lives. 
 The rain of arrows fell harmless around 
 them but each missile of their own bit 
 into the vitals of a foe, who dropped with 
 a spurt of red blood, to earth. Eagle 
 Plume abandoned the shielding trees, and 
 fired with mighty courage, issued forth 
 to the attack, closing in upon the Assini-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 boines, giving each his death wound, 
 striking and scalping the bodies as they 
 fell. The few survivors became terror- 
 stricken. Who was this warrior, invul 
 nerable and death-dealing? They felt in 
 him a force they knew not of and fled 
 helter-skelter, peering back, with scared 
 faces to see if the merciless champion 
 were pursuing them. But he, with the 
 Tall Pine, returned to the Piegans' camp, 
 bearing the scalps he had taken. They 
 had been reckoned among the dead and 
 when they were seen, returning un 
 harmed, it seemed no less than a miracle. 
 The Tall Pine told with solemnity that it 
 was the Great Spirit who had given 
 strength to their arms, death to their aim 
 and brought them back victorious and in 
 safety. His benignant power had clothed 
 Eagle Plume as in a mantle which no 
 barb or spear could pierce. 
 
 The people realized that this "deliver 
 ance had been accomplished because the 
 medicine of the Tall Pine was strong and 
 the courage of Eagle Plume greater than 
 
 47
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 that of his peers. From that time he took 
 precedence over Clear Water, the father 
 of the White Quiver, as head chief and 
 thus there was enmity between the two 
 foremost tribal leaders. This deed of the 
 Tall Pine gave her the title and standing 
 of Medicine Woman and the tribe be 
 stowed upon her every honor that the sa 
 cred office demanded. 
 
 Eagle Plume, who, after the custom of 
 his people, had several wives, in grati 
 tude to the Tall Pine, his favorite, put 
 the others away and pensioned them, and 
 she became the sole possessor of his heart. 
 
 Now the Great Chief had reached the 
 full ripeness of manhood. Upon his no 
 ble face was the calm majesty of power; 
 the gentleness of strength withheld, the 
 serenity that is the result of undisputed 
 authority. Yet despite the fact that he 
 was despot and monarch in everything 
 but name, the hero of a score of bloody 
 battlefields, he was a kindly and simple 
 man, gracious of manner, courteous to the 
 humblest of his subjects, and generous to
 
 his enemies. And though he was counted 
 wealthy in the possession of horses and 
 pelts, he held these things in trust and 
 the morrow would find him poor if his 
 people should be in want. 
 
 The interior of the lodge was oriental 
 in luxuriousness. The couch of Eagle 
 Plume was opposite the entrance, facing 
 the rising sun. Extending from this cen 
 tral point, in a circle, were the couches 
 of all the family save the Night Wind, 
 who, being half-mad, occupied a tipi 
 alone after the ancient custom. The 
 couches were separated by screens of wil 
 low shoots, evenly matched, stained and 
 carved in finely-traced patterns and bound 
 together firmly with lacings of colored 
 wool. These panels, narrow at the top 
 and widening towards their base, stood 
 on three stout legs, much the same as the 
 modern easel of the studios. These legs, 
 or rests, were also carved and stained. 
 Over the couch of Eagle Plume hung the 
 scalps he had taken on the war-path and 
 his Great Medicine, which was con- 
 
 49
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 cealed in a leather case, painted the sacred 
 reddish-brown color, with fringes of 
 leather and mystic symbols wrought 
 thereon. No one was permitted to touch 
 it or even to approach it too closely, ex 
 cept the master himself. Above his 
 couch also hung his bonnet of war-eagle 
 feathers in a smaller case of fringe-decked 
 hide. His ceremonial costumes of elk- 
 skin and buckskin, finely trimmed in 
 porcupine quills and skins, when not in 
 use, hung in ornamental rows on the 
 lodge walls or reposed in parfleche cases 
 bearing designs painted in bright colors. 
 On the floor, close within reach, was a 
 square of wood, hollowed out a little in 
 the center and carved. On this lay his 
 pipe of red stone, with richly adorned 
 stem, and his flint and tinder. This same 
 pipe had been smoked by his father and 
 his father's father; on this same board 
 had been mixed I'herb leaves for the 
 sacred smoke for as many generations. 
 On the lodge walls was a silk buffalo 
 hide and other rare pelts, and fluttering 
 
 50
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 from thongs on the exterior were innu 
 merable tufts of bison tails, trophies of 
 the chase. 
 
 By the couch of her lord was that of 
 the Tall Pine, decked with finely woven 
 corn husk Nez Perce bags and parfleche 
 cases containing the fruit of her toil. 
 There she sat day by day, patiently ply 
 ing her art of needlecraft, imagining, 
 then executing exquisite designs, making 
 rich garments for her husband, her chil 
 dren and herself. Next in order was the 
 couch of the Dawn Mist, decorated with 
 pelts and bags, polished metal mirrors, 
 necklaces, bracelets and all the little 
 maidenly trinkets a young girl loves. 
 The others were reserved for guests or 
 the passing stranger. No one was denied 
 shelter and food, and once within the tipi, 
 even though the visitor proved to be the 
 direst foe he was shielded from harm ac 
 cording to the sacred and inviolate laws 
 of hospitality. With him the master of 
 the lodge shared the last bit of food, 
 which the guest, in turn, by traditions
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 held equally holy, accepted as gratefully 
 as though it were a feast of marrow bones 
 or hump of buffalo. 
 
 In the center of the lodge was the fire 
 and over it hung the great kettle in which 
 food was cooked. 
 
 So perfectly was the huge cone of hides 
 constructed, that the smoke rose as in a 
 chimney, issuing from the opening far 
 above. An impression of vastness was 
 given by the circular form of the tipi, 
 narrowing as its height increased, until 
 only a small patch of blue or starlit sky 
 showed in the opening at its peak. 
 
 Around this lodge of the Great Chief 
 those who were bidden to the ceremony 
 in honor of the White Quiver assembled. 
 The hour grew late, but the young chief 
 did not come. And the Dawn Mist, 
 where was she? Eagle Plume smoked in 
 impassive silence, replying now and 
 again to questions of the old men who sat 
 near him, but his eyes forever sought the 
 lodge door or looked upward through the 
 fantastically curling smoke toward the 
 52
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 stars. The Tall Pine busied herself in 
 small ways. Now she laid a faggot on 
 the fire, again she began a feverish round 
 of the lodge, putting things to rights, but 
 she, too, like Eagle Plume, secretly 
 watched the lodge door as she bent over 
 in feigned occupation. 
 
 Outside, musicians beat a monotonous 
 tattoo on the drums. The Owl Brave 
 stood near by with a crowd of his young 
 men and whispered something at which 
 they made grimaces and smiled. Time 
 passed. A curious uneasiness expressed 
 itself in the growing restlessness of the 
 people. 
 
 "Where is the Dawn Mist?" someone 
 asked. 
 
 "Gathering sweet-grass," answered her 
 mother indifferently. 
 
 Just then there was a stir outside and 
 the Dawn Mist entered. A wonderful 
 light shone in her eyes, her cheeks glowed 
 with warm color and she brought with 
 her the breath of the night woods. Her 
 arms were full of sweet-grass. She 
 
 53
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 looked shyly at her father, her mother 
 and the guests. 
 
 "You are cold and it is late," the Tall 
 Pine said, touching her hand. "Come, 
 I will dress you for the ceremony." 
 
 Eagle Plume rose, and together with 
 the old men, stepped out into the open, 
 leaving the Dawn Mist alone with her 
 mother. 
 
 
 
 The Tall Pine opened the door of the 
 lodge. The drums beat to quicker time 
 and the company entered, headed by 
 Eagle Plume. After him came Wolf 
 Medicine, the Pipe Stem man and the 
 White Quiver. The new chief looked 
 noble in his war regalia. He wore a 
 head dress of war-eagle feathers, a shield 
 of buffalo hide, a bow of elk horn and 
 the snowy quiver by which he was always 
 distinguished. Around his throat was a 
 necklace of pale shells. 
 
 A fire leaped and pulsed in the center 
 of the dpi, casting a red glow over the 
 warriors and fantastically painting their 
 
 54
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 faces, or as suddenly blotting them out 
 with shadow. Over the fire was a tripod 
 and on this hung the kettle of brass filled 
 with pemmican. 
 
 Eagle Plume took his place on his 
 couch. He motioned the White Quiver 
 to the seat of honor. To his right sat 
 Wolf Medicine the Pipe Stem man. A 
 little yet to the right, near the sacred pipe, 
 stood a young boy. When all had taken 
 their places there was a lull in the music. 
 At a signal from Wolf Medicine the boy 
 filled the pipe with I'herb and the solemn 
 and sacred ceremony of the smoke took 
 place. 
 
 Then Eagle Plume stood erect and 
 spoke thus : 
 
 "Listen, my Children! 
 
 We are about to break camp and go on a march 
 of many camp-fires. There are things which I wish 
 to tell you. My lips speak what my heart feels 
 and my heart is full. 
 
 Ye know we have done wrong and brought down 
 on us the anger of the Sun ; not because our hearts 
 were bad but because, like little children, we were 
 ignorant and did not know. 
 
 55
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 You have all been far away hunting or on the 
 war-path and lost the trail so you lay alone, fright 
 ened, in the Great Silence, but always you found 
 your way back to the land of your fathers. It has 
 been the same with us. We missed the trail. We 
 were lost and Na-to-si, the Old Man, was angry. 
 He made the Moon when the snows are deep, cruel 
 and freezing cold. He gutted the land with ice. 
 Our horses froze. Our children suffered. The 
 Moon of Flowers brought the Great Heat and the 
 Sun drank up our streams and seared our grass. 
 
 You know what the streams are. They are to 
 the earth as the milk in a mother's breast. 
 
 You know what the grass is. The grass is a 
 great chief of Sach-Kum, the earth-mother. The 
 beasts eat it and when it dies they die also. 
 
 The streams were dried up. The grass was 
 gone. The ponies died and buzzards gorged on 
 their carcasses. 
 
 We were dying. 
 
 Then the young men of the Brave Band guided 
 us here where the river was deep and cold and grass 
 and berries grew. We drank of the water and ate 
 our fill of the berries and the ponies cropped the 
 grass down to the naked ground. Soon the berries 
 and the grass were gone. Only the cold waters of 
 the river remained. 
 
 The forest fires came and scorched and smothered 
 us. Hot sparks fell instead of rain and branded 
 
 56
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 us. Death was everywhere. Slow death from 
 starvation. Quick death from the hell of flame. 
 
 You know how we built the two Medicine 
 lodges; how this was our last hope. You know, 
 too, how Na-to-si came to the wise men in a dream 
 and revealed His Will which was that eight brave 
 men go to Ne-nas-ta-ko, the Chief of the Northern 
 Mountains, and pray to the Wind-God who dwells 
 in its depths. You remember how they went and 
 came back with their duty unfulfilled because their 
 hearts were afraid. . . ." 
 
 Here the Owl Brave wrapped his 
 blanket around him and left the lodge. 
 Eagle Plume's lips were compressed into 
 a straight line, his nose pinched down 
 like a hawk's beak and he continued with 
 out a pause: 
 
 "You know also how the wise men fasted again 
 and Na-to-si came to them in a dream, telling them 
 that sixteen warriors and sages must go as before 
 to Chief Mountain and pray to the Spirit there. 
 
 Of those sixteen men, the young White Quiver 
 alone had courage to intercede for you to the Wind- 
 God. 
 
 He has a lion's heart. He is like the eagle who 
 dares to face the Sun. 
 
 If he had failed your bones and mine would lie 
 
 57
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 white on the prairie, stripped clean by buzzards and 
 wolves. 
 
 I proclaim the White Quiver Chief and I now 
 give for him the ancient ceremony for heroes which 
 the Piegans have forgotten. 
 
 We have been far away in the Dark; lost in the 
 Great Loneliness, but we have come home to our 
 Father, the Great Mystery, which dwells in the 
 Sun. 
 
 Before we break camp and leave this stream and 
 these three lakes which have been nameless among 
 our forefathers, I call them in your presence, the 
 Two Medicine Lakes and river, so we may always 
 remember it was here we built the two medicine 
 lodges which turned the wrath of the Sun-God from 
 us and saved our people from destruction. 
 
 I have spoken and you, my children, have heard." 
 
 When he had finished the drums began 
 their measured pulse and rattles accentu 
 ated the time. The rhythm of a chant 
 rose and fell, now swelling in a tide of 
 sound, or ebbing into a half-heard, half"- 
 imagined minor key. The music of the 
 drums quickened. A band of young 
 men, dressed in festal costume, entered 
 through the open lodge door and began 
 to dance. It was a thrilling exhibition
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 of grace and strength. As they danced 
 they sang of their brave deeds on the war 
 path. The fire, constantly replenished 
 with faggots, sweet-grass and pine cones, 
 flared in a flood of hot gold light which 
 touched the lithe bodies of the dancers, 
 kindled in their piercing eyes miniature 
 points of flame and picked out every 
 detail of their costumes. Little bells 
 tinkled sympathetic to each gesture, as 
 though at the slightest motion, these 
 splendid, rhythmically moving bodies 
 must break into joyous sound. Enthusi 
 asm possessed the spectators. The war- 
 cry pealed out now and again and deep 
 laughter shook the watchers as the youths 
 enacted some humorous coup. They 
 danced around the lodge three times, then 
 disappeared as suddenly as they had 
 come. The music ceased. 
 
 The Tall Pine entered and served the 
 guests with chokecherries and pomme 
 blanche made into a kind of pemmican, 
 from the kettle boiling over the fire, and 
 though they were all but famished, each 
 
 59
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 reverently gave a bit of the precious food 
 to Sach-Kum, the Earth-Mother and the 
 Under-Ground spirits before tasting of 
 it. 
 
 When she had supplied every one she 
 sat down and ate with her husband and 
 his friends. The feast was but scant; the 
 chokecherries were few and had been 
 gathered with great toil of search and 
 patience, and the pomme blanche roots 
 had been grubbed laboriously from the 
 earth, but under the genius of the Tall 
 Pine a delicious preparation was made. 
 They devoured it greedily, and the Tall 
 Pine, never failing in her care, helped 
 them again and again until the last morsel 
 and drop were gone. 
 
 The drums started up with new vim. 
 The musicians increased the volume of 
 sound as their spirits rose under the in 
 fluence of full stomachs. Beneath their 
 redoubled efforts the vibrant hide gave 
 forth a rumble like distant thunder. 
 The guests paused in expectation. Few 
 of them knew what was to come, for this 
 60
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 was a ceremony seldom performed, an 
 honor jealously bestowed. 
 
 The White Quiver sat as one in a 
 dream. The weird music, the gilded 
 blaze, the heavy perfumed incense of the 
 sweet-grass, the dancing warriors and the 
 feast, were all as figures and things of 
 fantasy. He was covertly restless and his 
 thoughts were far away in the moonlight 
 by the singing waters with the Dawn 
 Mist. He had looked from face to face 
 as he entered but she was not there. He 
 noticed, too, that the Owl Brave contemp 
 tuously remained outside. 
 
 The music rose and fell. There was a 
 stir without and the Dawn Mist entered, 
 dancing, followed by a band of maidens, 
 as she had done at the Love Feast. She 
 was singularly beautiful in the fire-flush. 
 Her feet were as wings in their flight and 
 she danced like one inspired. Three 
 times she and her companions whirled 
 around the lodge, bending, swaying, leap 
 ing, flying. And as the willow obeys the 
 wind, the White Quiver followed her 
 61
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 least gesture. His restlessness and indif 
 ference were gone and he fought him 
 self to keep from leaping up, clasping 
 her and defying them to take her from 
 him. He was still drunk with emotion 
 from that one tryst, yet an undercurrent 
 of fear chilled him. The words of Ky-O 
 sounded ever and always above the beat 
 of drums and the lilt of glad songs. With 
 stony, immovable face he watched the 
 dancers, never seeming to follow anyone, 
 though the Dawn Mist shone out for him 
 like a single star in the night. 
 
 The third time, as the maidens circled 
 past, the Dawn Mist darted toward the 
 White Quiver, paused, hesitated and 
 bending over, kissed him. She was out 
 of his reach before he could realize what 
 had happened and her maidens, one by 
 one, followed, each pressing on him the 
 kiss of reward for heroism. They were 
 gone. 
 
 The drums beat loudly again. There 
 was yet more to come. This time, a band 
 of old women, wrinkled, toothless, 
 62
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 crooked-backed and withered with age 
 hobbled in. The White Quiver shud 
 dered. Ky-O led the band. The old 
 men shouted their delight. The ancient 
 hags screeched and cackled in broken 
 trebles and made hideous attempts to 
 coerce their stiff and palsied limbs into 
 the mockery of a dance. Three times 
 they made the circle of the lodge, hover 
 ing near the fire, pausing over the caul 
 dron with diabolic gestures like creatures 
 of evil who would brew death draughts. 
 The third time Ky-O stopped abruptly 
 before the White Quiver. Her lip 
 wrinkled back over her gums showing a 
 few black, decaying tusks. Her nause 
 ous, fetid breath, poisonous and foul- 
 smelling as the miasma of dank swamps, 
 fell upon him like a pestilence. 
 
 "Fools, fools, fools kissing over blood 
 drip and bleaching bones!" 
 
 He heard the whispered words crackle 
 in her throat. She was coming nearer, 
 nearer. She was about to kiss him! The 
 horror of it mastered him. That ghastly, 
 
 63
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 grinning mouth with its jagged fangs, its 
 venom, its putrid breath, its words that 
 were a curse, was about to meet his! He 
 leaped to his feet, oblivious of the as 
 tounded gaze of the spectators, forget 
 ting he was honored by his tribe and his 
 Chief. One idea possessed him. If he 
 received that serpent's sting the Dawn 
 Mist was lost to him. He fled, head 
 long, frenzied to the point of madness, out 
 into the night. 
 
 Rushing into the open he brushed 
 against a man. It was the Owl Brave, 
 who smiled mockingly as he watched his 
 enemy's flight. And even as the White 
 Quiver plunged into the woods to escape 
 the torment that tore at his vitals he saw 
 the wolf dog of Ky-O following close on 
 his trail.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ONE clear evening the sun set in a 
 glory of light over the mountains. 
 Delicate pink clouds like the 
 scattered petals of celestial flowers, 
 strewed the west. The afterglow of 
 sunset faded into a dim, golden dream 
 of day. On the border-land of the dark 
 ling blue and the tender yellow, where 
 the sky showed pale-green, the luminous, 
 gold-fringed Evening Star trembled out 
 of the gathering dusk. The shadows 
 lengthened, blue and mystical. The tim 
 ber line showed in shadowy purple points 
 along the mountains, when there appeared 
 above that barrier, a slender, gilded bow. 
 It was the crescent moon; the signal for 
 the chase. Thousands of eager eyes had 
 watched for that sign and at sight of it 
 thousands of hearts beat quick and thou 
 sands of lips murmured prayers to Co-co- 
 
 65
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 mik-e-t'sum, the Old Woman, for suc 
 cess in the coming hunt. 
 
 Camp fires spurted like blood into the 
 darkness that night. The young men 
 danced and sang in an abandon of excited 
 
 joy- 
 When morning broke the city of tipis 
 
 was no more. Lodges were struck, 
 ponies saddled or hitched to travois and 
 without confusion, in perfect order, like 
 the soldiers of an army, the tribe made 
 ready to march. 
 
 The sky was covered with smooth, 
 pearly clouds through which the sun fil 
 tered, filling the world with luminous, 
 reflected radiance. The drab prairie 
 flowed away in a monotonous mono 
 chrome to the colorless horizon and on 
 the mountains was a cold, metallic blue 
 shadow. 
 
 Warriors, hunters and women mounted. 
 Each chief took his place at the head of 
 his band and the different bands of the 
 I-kin-uh-kah-tsi or Societies of All Com 
 rades, who were the officers of the Tri- 
 66
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 bal law, formed in regular order accord 
 ing to their rank. Suddenly, the sun, 
 struggling with the enmeshing vapors, 
 rent them with his lancing gold beams 
 and flooded the transfigured earth with 
 an amber dazzle of light. The prairie 
 rippled and surged and flowed, a mighty 
 still-born sea of gold, and to the West, 
 rent and carved and shivered into heaven- 
 daring towers and pinnacles, were the 
 mountains of amethyst and silver, the 
 dwelling place of the gods. 
 
 Simultaneously, as though at the di 
 vine signal of Na-to-si himself, the vast 
 column broke into motion and sound. 
 Across the golden-green prairie the 
 gaily-colored multitude rode, singing the 
 camp-breaking song. On and on the pa 
 geant rolled; file by file its splendid de 
 tail flushed into full view, then passed 
 into the kaleidoscopic perspective ahead, 
 while another line, similar yet individu 
 ally distinct, came into the foreground 
 and took its place. In these momentarily 
 revealed groups there were chiefs and
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 warriors and hunters, women and even 
 *. children, gorgeously arrayed in plumes 
 and furs and costumes bright in color and 
 intricate in design. The sun touched the- 
 responsive ornaments of dress and the pol 
 ished steel of weapons and warmed into 
 greater brilliance, the splendid splashes 
 of crimson and green and tawny yellow. 
 Ever and anon they passed between the 
 throbbing blue sky and the gold-green 
 earth, in the shadow of purple peaks that 
 plunged into the lingering clouds. And 
 ever and always from the lips of thou 
 sands, swelling now in a great, vibrant 
 flood, then thinning to a plaintive minor 
 key as haunting as the echo of a ghost 
 chant out of the past, sounded the camp- 
 breaking song. 
 
 Eagle Plume was surrounded by his 
 family, his followers of the Brave Band 
 and near him rode the wise men of the 
 nation, the Pipe Stem men, bearing the 
 sacred pipe and after them came the most 
 distinguished chiefs. 
 
 The spirits of the Night Wind rose 
 68
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 into a veritable gale. His mount was . . a 
 the wildest pony of his father's herds. 
 One moment the brute plunged and 
 bucked with him, the next, it was off like 
 an arrow, darting across the country 
 while his master shrieked in an abandon 
 of glee. No sane man could ride as 
 this poor lad whose tempestuous soul was 
 verily akin to the night wind for which 
 he was named^ His followers shouted 
 applause and his fantastic antics made 
 merriment all along the way. The Dawn 
 Mist rode by her mother but she was si 
 lent and her thoughts were with the White 
 Quiver, who followed with his fellows 
 of the Mad Dogs. He led the Pinto 
 Pony, the sacred Medicine Horse, that 
 brought luck in the chase and in war. 
 He was full of thoughts and dreams of 
 daring and valor, the fruits of which 
 would be his love offering to her. 
 
 Somewhere at the rear of the caval 
 cade, with the old, the infirm, the poor 
 and the rabble of growling, righting curs, 
 came Ky-O with her wolf dog. The Owl
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Brave left his own band, the Mosquitoes, 
 many times to ride back and secretly 
 speak with her and give her refreshments 
 from his stores. 
 
 The tribe separated according to an ar 
 rangement previously planned by the 
 chiefs and wise men. Some went to the 
 north, others to the east and yet others 
 took a middle course, but they kept 
 within signal distance and when dark 
 ness settled thick and unbroken, slim col 
 umns of flame kindled on the mountain 
 tops and the prairie. By these signal 
 fires at night and the flashing of mirrors 
 by day, each band knew where its tribal 
 kindred were, if buffalo had been seen 
 or not and if there were enemies lurking 
 near. 
 
 It was on a crisp, frosty evening that 
 the White Quiver sat watching the dark 
 sky. How many sleeps, he thought, since 
 he met the Dawn Mist by the singing 
 waters! It was in reality not long, but 
 the days drew themselves into intolerable 
 lengths and his spirit chafed with inac- 
 70
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 tion. His great limbs were relaxed, his 
 shoulders drooped a trifle and he gazed 
 upward at the stars. From the top of a 
 ridge of distant hills a tongue of flame 
 darted high into the blackness. A sec 
 ond leaped up close beside it. The White 
 Quiver rose to watch. 
 
 The inertia was gone and he stood tense 
 and rigid peering into the night. Was 
 there a third fire kindling? He strained 
 to see but even his hawk eye could not 
 determine if a new fire were building or 
 if the second were merely spreading. 
 Yes, there was a faint light, but in 
 stantly it faded and was gone. His heart 
 beats were shaking his breast. His eyes 
 were narrowed into two crescent-like 
 lines. Again, a faint gleam pulsed and 
 grew and lived! The Sun-God be 
 praised! This was the signal for buf 
 falo! 
 
 A mighty shout crashed through the 
 silence. Young men began to dance and 
 sing while the three red-gold columns 
 of flame, with sparks shining like mock
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 stars in the sky, proclaimed the glorious 
 news. 
 
 The party was in the saddle long be 
 fore dawn and such of them as had no 
 ponies, walked, spurred to unusual speed 
 by the thought of the quarry that lay 
 ahead. They proceeded silently, swiftly, 
 a few scouts in advance to look for 
 enemies. In the red glow of the sun 
 rise they pressed on, on, on, never pausing 
 except to water the thirsty horses in 
 green, pellucid streams. The sun was in 
 the center of the heavens, a radiant, flam 
 ing ball, when they came to the hilltop 
 where the signals had burned. From 
 this height they beheld, spread out be 
 neath them in a small, mountain-locked 
 valley a number of lodges. The White 
 Quiver glanced restlessly over them until 
 his eyes lighted on that of Eagle Plume. 
 He saw the sacred pipe hung over the tipi 
 door and by this he knew that the order 
 had not yet been given to move. Some 
 of the young men from the camp came 
 up to meet him and his braves. Where 
 72
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 were the buffalo? In what numbers? 
 And when would the chase begin? the 
 White Quiver asked rapidly. The out 
 runners of Eagle Plume's band had lo 
 cated a large herd, just over yonder ridge, 
 the young men replied. There were also 
 signs of enemies, probably Kootenais. 
 There had been much discussion over 
 what course to pursue. The Owl Brave 
 and a few young hot bloods had urged 
 immediate descent upon the buffalo, but 
 Eagle Plume, counciled by Wolf Medi 
 cine and the wise men, had delayed, be 
 lieving that his numbers should be strong 
 in case of sudden attack. He hoped not 
 only to get buffalo in plenty, but to cap 
 ture ponies from the Kootenais. Tracks 
 of horses had been seen by the scouts and 
 the need of the Piegans for mounts was 
 next only to their need for meat. Many 
 of their ponies had died during the pe 
 riod of drought and famine. The grass 
 was good where the herd was feeding, so 
 there was small chance of the buffalo leav 
 ing at once. Couriers kept watch and re- 
 
 73
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ported every move of the animals to 
 Eagle Plume. Now, however, the scat 
 tered bands were assembled and there was 
 no further cause for delay. 
 
 The White Quiver and his braves pre 
 sented themselves at the lodge of Eagle 
 Plume where wise men and chiefs sat in 
 grave discussion. The head chief wel 
 comed them and bade them wait and 
 listen. 
 
 The plan adopted was this: Early in 
 the morning every warrior owning a horse 
 would start for the valley in the hills. 
 Those unmounted would follow on foot. 
 Some young man, whose head was cool 
 and whose horsemanship was unques 
 tioned, would ride before the herd under 
 the disguise of a buffalo robe. He would 
 start the vast, living sea in the direction 
 of a "pis'kun" or precipice which formed 
 a natural trap, then the hunters would 
 follow at breakneck speed, shooting as 
 they went, and pursue the herd to the 
 brink of the gorge where they would leap 
 
 74
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 to destruction. This having been deter 
 mined, the sacred pipe was taken down, 
 passed around in the course of the sun, 
 then fixed on a tripod before the door, 
 the direction indicating which way they 
 would travel. 
 
 Who would lead the buffalo? The 
 wise men pondered and deliberated. 
 
 The Owl Brave rose in council and 
 said: 
 
 "Listen! for I speak the truth! I will 
 lead the buffalo. I have a horse that is 
 a good horse. He can run fast and his 
 wind is sound. I promise you right here 
 that I will lead the buffalo to the 'pis' 
 kun.' " 
 
 He was scarcely seated when the White 
 Quiver sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Hai ye, my fathers! Hear what is in 
 my heart. 
 
 "You have made me a chief. 
 
 "Now allow me to lead the buffalo, so 
 I may prove my courage. 
 
 "I have seen the days. 
 
 75
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "I have watched the best riders lead 
 the herds. I did not watch in vain. I 
 will not fail. 
 
 "I have the Medicine of the Pinto 
 horse. It is strong medicine. Without 
 it there is no luck. You have seen this 
 yourselves. 
 
 "I offer to you myself and the Pinto 
 horse. It is for you to decide." 
 
 The Owl Brave darted at him a ma 
 levolent glance quick and angrily-bright 
 as a lightning flash. 
 
 The war-cry burst involuntarily from 
 the people. The White Quiver was 
 right. He had spoken straight. There 
 was no luck without the medicine of the 
 Pinto horse, so it was decreed in council 
 that the White Quiver, mounted on the 
 Medicine pony, should lead the buffalo. 
 
 As the White Quiver left the council 
 he caught sight of the Dawn Mist who 
 waited outside. She had the look of a 
 scared deer in her eyes. 
 
 "Under the three pines, by the heart- 
 shaped rock on the hill, at moon rise, I 
 
 76
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 shall gather pomme blanche" she whis 
 pered. 
 
 She vanished before he could answer, 
 but those words sang in his soul. 
 
 A thin, gray cobweb of cloud spun 
 its filmy skein across the evening sky. 
 The sun sank and died in a passion of gold 
 and crimson that faded into opal tones, 
 which, in turn, were quenched in the twi 
 light calm. 
 
 The White Quiver waited for the 
 shielding shadow of night. When the 
 yellow horn of the little moon glided out 
 into the purple sky from behind the gos 
 samer cloud, he started stealthily, under 
 cover of the trees, to the tryst. 
 
 He did not know that he was following 
 close on the track of the Owl Brave, who, 
 likewise, cautious and muffled to the eyes, 
 threaded his way in the same direction. 
 As he advanced deeper into the wood, he 
 fancied he heard a scream, but directly 
 all was silent again. Finally after some 
 search he came to three pines growing 
 close together near a heart-shaped rock. 
 
 77
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 There he stopped and listened. It was a 
 pleasant spot. Just before him a jagged 
 eminence of stone lifted its giant crest 
 against the sky. He had heard that some 
 where near that rocky escarpment dwelt 
 Ky-O, the grizzly bear. An owl hooted 
 in the trees overhead. He had not waited 
 long when the Dawn Mist ran out of the 
 dark forest. She was trembling. 
 
 "I was here alone," she said. "There 
 was a sound in the bushes and the Owl 
 Brave stood before me. He saw me and 
 I was afraid, for passion burnt red in his 
 face. He grasped me in his arms. Look 
 at these bruises ! He kissed me, and was 
 gone 1" 
 
 "Gone? Whence? I shall follow!" 
 
 "No, no, no. Not to-night. This is 
 the eve before the hunt. Stay with me. 
 I am afraid." 
 
 The White Quiver obeyed her. In si 
 lence he held her close to his breast. 
 
 "The time has been long," he whis 
 pered, "so long that my heart nearly died. 
 If I make a fine kill of buffalo in the 
 
 78
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 chase, to-morrow at night fall I will tie 
 the Pinto Pony to your father's lodge in 
 offer for you." 
 
 "But one more moonrise, but one more 
 sleep to wait." 
 
 "But one more, unless the buffalo run 
 too far." 
 
 "When I am your own, in your lodge, 
 you will not leave me?" 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "O! White Quiver! Do you remem 
 ber the words of the witch-woman, Ky-O? 
 My heart tells me some awful spell will 
 take me from you!" she cried. 
 
 "No enemy on earth, no evil spirit of 
 the Great Darkness can keep us apart. 
 ... As your shadow follows you, I shall 
 be forever with you," the White Quiver 
 answered her. 
 
 "Our shadow is with us only when the 
 sun shines. Where is it in the Night? 
 
 It is the Night I fear! The Dark! OI 
 
 j> 
 
 "I will follow you always, over the long 
 trail to the Great White Desert." 
 79
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 There was a sound like a human step 
 on the dry leaves. 
 
 "What is that noise?" the Dawn Mist 
 cried in alarm, trembling like a wind- 
 shaken reed. 
 
 "It is only your own heart-beats," the 
 White Quiver answered, but he peered 
 questioningly into the darkness and 
 clasped the hilt of his knife. 
 
 80
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE Owl Brave charged like an 
 angry bull through the under 
 growth. His course lay straight 
 ahead, up towards the beetling cliffs of 
 the mountain's ascent. The bushes and 
 trees thinned and flakes of shale slid be 
 neath his weight. Occasionally these 
 struck little glints of flame, as though his 
 fury kindled fire in the stones. Now he 
 went more cautiously. His eye sought 
 some landmark and he stopped more than 
 once to observe minutely. After each 
 pause he took up his search, scaling the 
 slippery, naked cairns that frowned 
 through the thickened dark. Two points 
 of yellow burned in the night, points of 
 angry, dull-flame color that changed to 
 green. A stealthy body slid from behind 
 a boulder and a cold muzzle moved like 
 a snail over the Owl Brave's hand. He 
 81
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 recognized the wolf-dog of Ky-O. The 
 brute fawned before him, showed its 
 sharp, white teeth in a capitulating, half- 
 friendly snarl and led him to a small cun 
 ningly concealed opening in the cliff. He 
 crawled in on his hands and knees, carry 
 ing his knife in his teeth, and found that 
 a fair-sized chamber lay before him, 
 lighted dimly by a smoldering fire and 
 a torch of faggot. At first he could dis 
 tinguish nothing but the red lights dan 
 cing with their grim partners, the shad 
 ows, but presently he saw Ky-O, crouch 
 ing near the fire. She had been watch 
 ing him silently and now that she caught 
 his eye, broke into a wild, weird laugh. 
 
 "Kyi! is the wolf-hearted afraid, that 
 he carries a knife in his teeth?" she asked. 
 
 He straightened himself as best he 
 could in the low-roofed cave, sheathed 
 his knife and stilled her with a quick ges 
 ture. 
 
 The hag observed him keenly during a 
 silence so full of vibrant emotion that it 
 seemed very long. She noted more by 
 82
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 instinct than visual sight, that he breathed 
 fast and hard; that his chest heaved tu- 
 multuously; his fists were clenched, his 
 jaws set and in his eyes burnt an unholy 
 fire. 
 
 He came over to where she squatted, 
 grasped her by the wrist in a grip so tight 
 that she winced and cried: 
 
 "Listen! Listen! . . . Yonder, under 
 the three pines, by the heart-shaped rock, 
 I saw her. 
 
 "In her hands were roots of pomme 
 blanche. She hunted the roots but she 
 was watching, listening, waiting. She 
 lifted her head often, as a doe does when 
 she is chased. . . . She was waiting for 
 him, the White Quiver. 
 
 "I rushed on her as the wind rushes, 
 caught her, so, and felt her heart flut 
 ter like a snared bird's. 
 
 "I kissed her. . . . 
 
 "She screamed until the voice-spirits on 
 the mountains answered her. 
 
 "I looked in her eyes and they told how 
 she hated me. 
 
 83
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "I let her go. She ran off in the 
 bushes, crying. . . ." 
 
 Ky-O grunted gutturally and tried to 
 release her arm. 
 
 "He is with her now. I see him 
 through the dark. I feel him through 
 the distance. They are together as they 
 were that night by the fall of the Two 
 Medicine, under the Rising Wolf." 
 
 She nodded and grunted again. 
 
 "They are alone. . . . Shall I kill 
 him?" ' 
 
 "Fool! No! Kill him and you kill 
 your future." 
 
 Silence settled in the cave, unbroken 
 save for the snapping of bones in the wolf- 
 dog's jaws. 
 
 "Speak," he exclaimed impatiently. 
 "If you see through the flesh into the 
 spirit, past to-day into to-morrow, tell 
 me! Show me the blackest medicine 
 that your dam, the she-bear taught you. 
 I will use it. But give me the Dawn 
 Mist. Give me vengeance upon the 
 White Quiver."
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "Come! Show them to me. We will 
 watch. We will listen. We may learn 
 something. But swear by Na-to-si, by 
 Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, by Sach-Kum and by 
 Ky-O, the breed of the great, gray bear, 
 my kinsfolk, that you will obey me I" 
 
 "I swear!" 
 
 "Swear that if you see the Dawn Mist 
 in his arms; if you see him taste the wild 
 honey of her lips, you will make no sound 
 or sign." 
 
 The Owl Brave cursed and stamped. 
 
 "Swear!" 
 
 "I ... swear." 
 
 They stole silently down the mountain 
 side, Ky-O leaning on her staff. She was 
 hampered with years, but no stone rattled 
 beneath her step and no startled branch 
 betrayed her presence. The wolf dog, 
 not less stealthy than his mistress, trotted 
 at her heels. 
 
 They came to a sudden halt. The 
 sound of low, murmuring voices reached 
 them through the pines. Scarcely 
 breathing, advancing with the deliber- 
 
 85
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ately tentative foot-fall of wildcats, they 
 felt their way through the wood until 
 three straight pines, growing in a small 
 patch of open, came in view, lifting their 
 black arms against the star-lit sky. Near 
 the trees was a great red sandstone boul 
 der shaped like a giant's heart. Close to 
 this stood the White Quiver and the 
 Dawn Mist. The pale, faint starlight 
 streamed over them, shedding a silvery 
 halo on their radiant faces and etherial- 
 izing them until they shone like white 
 spirits. 
 
 The night was windless and the atmos 
 phere of that peculiar, vibrant clearness 
 that carries the least sound. Somewhere 
 off in the forest a dry limb crackled. An 
 owl hooted in the intimate distance and a 
 stream sang to the silence. 
 
 Ky-O and the Owl Brave heard the 
 White Quiver whisper, each word pier 
 cing the quiet with the fine precision of 
 a well-aimed arrow. 
 
 "The time has been long, so long that 
 my heart nearly died. If I make a fine 
 86
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 kill of buffalo in the chase, to-morrow, 
 at night fall I will tie the Pinto Pony to 
 your father's lodge in offer for you." 
 
 The Owl Brave shook in a huge con 
 vulsion of jealous rage. The White 
 Quiver's breast was bare and lighted by 
 the star-glow. He raised his spear and 
 aimed. The clammy, crooked fingers of 
 Ky-O closed on his arm. The spear fell 
 noiselessly to earth. Again the voices 
 reached their ears. 
 
 "But one more moonrise, but one more 
 sleep to wait." 
 
 "But one more, unless the buffalo run 
 too far." 
 
 "When I am your own, in your lodge, 
 you will not leave me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "O! White Quiver! Do you remem 
 ber the words of the witch-woman, Ky-O? 
 My heart tells me some awful spell will 
 take me from you !" 
 
 "No enemy on earth, no evil spirit of 
 the Great Darkness can keep us apart. 
 ... As your shadow follows you, I shall 
 
 87
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 be forever with you," the White Quiver 
 answered her. 
 
 "Our shadow is with us only when the 
 sun shines. Where is it in the Night? 
 It is the Night I fear! The Dark! O! 
 
 * 
 
 "I will follow you always, over the long 
 trail to the Great White Desert." 
 
 The Owl Brave took a quick step for 
 ward. 
 
 A dead twig snapped with vicious and 
 exaggerated noise. 
 
 The White Quiver and the Dawn Mist 
 were alert, listening. 
 
 Once more the damp, calloused hand 
 of Ky-O arrested him. He felt her hot, 
 noisome breath on his cheek as she whis 
 pered : 
 
 "Comer 
 
 "What now?" the Owl Brave de 
 manded, once they were within the fire- 
 lit chamber. "You have seen and heard." 
 
 "She did not answer at once. She re 
 plenished the fire, filled and lighted her 
 pipe and squatted on the rocky floor,
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 warmed her claw-fingers at the blaze and 
 appeared to be lost in meditation. 
 
 By the growing firelight the interior of 
 the cave showed more plainly than be 
 fore, though its farther walls were 
 shrouded in secret shadow. Bunches of 
 pungent-smelling herbs were fastened 
 with thongs to sharp projections in the 
 rock, and on the floor, which was sprin 
 kled with damp earth, were the fresh 
 tracks and dung of a monster bear. 
 
 The Owl Brave was filled with bitter 
 reflections. He was paying the price of 
 delay. Before the White Quiver's tri 
 umph and his own failure on Chief 
 Mountain, he had been first among the 
 young braves in Eagle Plume's favor. 
 He had many gallant coups to his credit. 
 He had distinguished himself on the war 
 path against the Kootenais and the Sioux 
 and he was still young. Nor was he un 
 pleasant to look upon. His hawk-beak 
 nose was too sharply prominent to be 
 handsome, his small, bright, restless eyes 
 were set a trifle too close together, and
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 his lip had a cruel curl, but these slight 
 defects were offset by a finely-built body 
 and a haughty carriage that marked him 
 with distinction. 
 
 Why had he not asked for the Dawn 
 Mist in the mid-day of his success? 
 Eagle Plume would not have denied her 
 to him. His own heart answered the 
 question. He had not dared to brave her 
 hatred. She had always shrunk away 
 from him as though he were a poisonous 
 thing, a crawling snake or a spider with 
 mortal sting. And because he had al 
 lowed a coward's fear of a young girl to 
 influence him, he had lost that which his 
 whole being desired with hot, consum 
 ing lust. His passion, more intense be 
 cause it had been long suppressed, had 
 grown into a terrible, devouring thing 
 that would possess even if in that awful 
 possession it destroyed. Now he was 
 driven to seek the aid of magic through 
 the witch-woman, Ky-O. 
 
 "Hai ye," he exclaimed impatiently 
 after a long silence. 
 
 90
 
 OWL BKAVK . 
 
 . A FINELY BUILT BODY AND A HAUGHTY CARRIAGE 
 MARKED HIM WITH DISTINCTION."
 
 M
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "Something is coming, here," she an 
 swered, tapping her forehead. 
 
 "Speak!" 
 
 He bent over her, sucking in his breath 
 in little, harsh gasps. 
 
 The old woman's face became cunning. 
 She leered at him, assumed an air of ab 
 ject misery, the meaning of which he 
 knew well, and said : 
 
 "I am poor, so poor. Show me what 
 you will give." 
 
 He was prepared. Stooping and open 
 ing a bunuie, he displayed some beads, a 
 brass kettle, pelts of weasel, otter, beaver 
 and lynx. He held each piece up for her 
 to see, then she took it, felt of it, scrutin 
 ized, smelt of it and sometimes even bit 
 it. Each article she returned to the heap 
 on the floor. She whined all the while. 
 At last she shrugged her shoulders and 
 shook her head. 
 
 "What do you mean," the Owl Brave 
 asked. 
 
 "Not enough," she whimpered. "You 
 have many horses, hides, beads, feathers.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 I have nothing. I am poor. You are 
 a great warrior with your belly full of 
 meat. I am like the mole, grubbing roots 
 in the dark. You want the Dawn Mist. 
 I have the medicine that can get her for 
 you. If I give you that medicine you 
 must pay me." 
 
 "Kyi! Pay! You would strip the 
 flesh off my bones ! Suck my blood!" 
 
 She did not notice him, but continued 
 rubbing her hands, rocking to and fro, 
 whimpering softly, under her breath. 
 
 "I am poor. ... It takes the life of 
 my old body ... to make such strong 
 medicine . . . I am so poor ... so poor 
 ... so poor." 
 
 The Owl Brave muttered a curse. 
 
 "You do not speak straight," he said, 
 raising his fingers to his lips, and mak 
 ing a straight line. "Your words are 
 crooked. You tell me you are poor. 
 That is a lie. You are richer than Eagle 
 Plume. As dogs bury bones you have 
 treasure hidden under the rocks. 
 
 "Half-man! Toad-spawn! Squaw- 
 92
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 hearted coward!" she shrieked in a terri 
 ble treble. She flew at him in fanatic 
 fury, cursed him, called him every vile 
 name her lash-sharp tongue could utter 
 and invoked upon him the blackest evil of 
 the powers accursed. 
 
 "Take back that lie," she screamed, "or 
 by my dam, the Great Bear, I'll go to the 
 White Quiver and tell him all!" 
 
 After awhile he quieted her by turn 
 ing the matter into a jest. But even after 
 the tempest of her passion had subsided, 
 she trembled at intervals, looking at him 
 distrustfully and whispered to herself. 
 
 "See what I have brought you," he 
 said. 
 
 She gloated over the heap of stuff with 
 the lust of a miser, shaking her head and 
 whining: 
 
 "No, no, no. The medicine of the 
 Pinto horse is strong. Mine must be 
 stronger. It will take time. It will take 
 strength. It . . ." 
 
 "What do you want," he broke in. 
 "You are like your brother, the grizzly, 
 
 93
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 who preys and gorges and is never satis 
 fied. Your maw is bottomless, she-bear. 
 The pelts are fine. This otter, look at 
 the fur. . . ." 
 
 "No. The skin is poor." 
 
 She bickered and haggled over each 
 hide and trinket. 
 
 "You take all I have," he cried desper 
 ately. "You strip me. You rob me. It 
 is I who am poor. What more do you 
 want. Tell me I" 
 
 "A horse." 
 
 "A horse ! I have but one." 
 
 "You had, so many," she answered, 
 checking off five on her crooked fingers. 
 
 "I had; but two are dead and two I 
 traded. I have only one." 
 
 "You can buy another. Give me your 
 horse." 
 
 "Never I You would have me go afoot 
 with the squaws and children and old 
 men. He would ride past me on his 
 Pinto Pony and laugh. Never!" 
 
 Ky-O was silent. 
 
 Something slimy and chill moved along 
 
 94
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 his hand. He started and looked on the 
 damp floor beside him. A snake slid 
 past, the red fire illuminating his scales 
 until they shone like gems. It was the 
 Owl Brave who spoke, finally: 
 
 "Come," he said, altering his voice to a 
 conciliatory tone. "Be fair. What do 
 you want, mother?" 
 
 A hideous smile distorted her face. 
 
 "What do you want, the Dawn Mist 
 or your horse?" she asked in return. 
 
 "Will nothing but my horse do? A 
 warm garment of buckskin, beaded, 
 moccasins, " 
 
 "No, nothing." 
 
 "But the chase, I must ride in the 
 chase." 
 
 "When you go to the chase in the morn 
 ing, you may ride the horse if you bring 
 him back sound to me." 
 
 "Then it is yours. But you answer to 
 me with your life for my success." 
 
 They talked in low tones for many 
 hours, he listening attentively, the expres 
 sion of his face changing, as, partly in 
 
 95
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 words, partly by signs, she unfolded to 
 him as much of her plans as she wished 
 him to know. When this was done, she 
 went to the kettle swinging on the tripod 
 over the fire, filled a small gourd bowl 
 with dark liquid, which she dipped out 
 by means of a buffalo-horn spoon. 
 
 "Drink!" she commanded. 
 
 He choked and gasped and all but 
 strangled with the bitterness of the 
 draught, but she stood over him mutter 
 ing incantations and making signs and he 
 dared not disobey her, lest the spell be 
 broken. 
 
 A wonderful exhilaration stimulated 
 him to gaiety and a warm glow ran 
 through his veins, even to the tips of his 
 fingers which had been icy cold. Then 
 Ky-O began to speak softly and he to 
 harken with bated breath, until the fumes 
 of that bewitched potion penetrated his 
 brain. He fancied that the old woman 
 vanished and in her place appeared a 
 grizzly bear; that a great muzzle was 
 thrust close to his face and a low, deep
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 growl shook the cavern. Then came a 
 giddy confusion of things and he knew 
 not nor cared if he were awake or en 
 meshed in dreams. . . . 
 
 He was aroused by Ky-O, who plucked 
 at him, shook him and shrilled in his ear: 
 
 "The dawn is climbing the sky! Be 
 up! Be off! Quick!" 
 
 He sprang to his feet, dazed. As soon 
 as he could shake the cloud from his brain 
 he was hurrying down the mountain side. 
 In the growing light he saw shadowy 
 figures moving, and he knew that Eagle 
 Plume was assembling his hunters for the 
 chase. 
 
 97
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE camp was a scene of con 
 fusion. Warriors and hunters 
 were arming themselves and sad 
 dling their ponies. Children ran hither 
 and thither shouting, women hastened to 
 and fro to help their lords, and the excite 
 ment, being all-pervading, spread even to 
 the mongrel dogs who barked at nothing 
 and ran wildly about in sheer exuberance 
 of spirits. The call of a herald and the 
 snatch of a war or hunting song sounded 
 now and again. The knowing ponies 
 were no less impatient than their masters; 
 they whinnied shrilly and stamped in 
 proof of mettle. 
 
 The Owl Brave gained his lodge. The 
 few who saw him coming believed he had 
 been out for his early morning plunge 
 and thought no more of the incident. 
 Once within the tipi he hurriedly gath-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ered his shield and weapons. His brain 
 was strangely clear and quick. He real 
 ized that this was the occasion upon 
 which hung the issue of his life. Frag 
 mentary thoughts and emotions flashed 
 through his consciousness like summer 
 lightning, then were lost The White 
 Quiver would be in great peril, he said to 
 himself. He had seen this thing of 
 leading the buffalo done many times be 
 fore. Had he been mad when he desired 
 the honor for himself? His enemy might 
 be trampled beneath thousands of grind 
 ing hoofs (and here the Owl Brave 
 smiled ever so slightly) or what could be 
 more likely than that somebody's arrow 
 aimed at one of the foremost of the herd, 
 should go just ahead of the mark? Who 
 could be blamed for such an accident? 
 Then, as always, his thoughts turned to 
 the Dawn Mist and he recalled the death- 
 hate in her eyes. With curious delibera 
 tion, he looked over his arrows one by 
 one, felt the keen edge of his spear and 
 the dagger at his side. 
 99
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Above the confused jangle of noises he 
 could hear the sonorous call of a herald 
 who rode through the camp, crying: 
 
 "Listen! Listen! The Great Chief, 
 Eagle Plume, commands every warrior 
 and hunter to be ready. The time is 
 come to go to the buffalo!" 
 
 The Owl Brave was just finishing his 
 preparations, when the wolf dog of Ky-O 
 slipped into his lodge. He knew that the 
 beast's mistress was near. She followed 
 quickly upon the steps of her pet, leaning 
 heavily on her staff. She and the Owl 
 Brave exchanged a few hurried whispers. 
 She took from her bosom a little bag and 
 handed it to him. 
 
 "Wear it," she commanded, "it is your 
 medicine." 
 
 He fastened the trinket about his neck, 
 then hastened off to join the assembling 
 warriors. 
 
 The mounted hunters and those afoot 
 were waiting outside the lodge of Eagle 
 Plume. The chief had not yet appeared. 
 In a moment the lodge door opened and 
 
 ICO
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 he issued forth with Wolf Medicine, the 
 Pipe Stem man and some of the ancient 
 wise men. Following close behind were 
 the Tall Pine and the Dawn Mist. The 
 Night Wind was already mounted on a 
 bucking pony, tormenting the poor beast 
 into a frenzy for the amusement of the 
 laughing crowd. 
 
 As Eagle Plume came into view with 
 his attendants, the Owl Brave forgot all 
 else. He looked with fierce inquiry at 
 the Dawn Mist who had not even seen 
 him, and watched her glance travel 
 arrow-swift and true to a certain point 
 among the horsemen. He followed the 
 direction of her eyes and saw that they 
 were wedded in amorous gaze with those 
 of the White Quiver. 
 
 The signal was given. The chafing 
 ponies sprang forward. The chase was 
 begun. 
 
 The White Quiver reined in his Pinto 
 
 horse until the creature's neck curved like 
 
 a bow. He rode very slowly so that he 
 
 soon fell to the rear. Turning around 
 
 101
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 in his saddle, he looked and saw the 
 Dawn Mist standing apart, quite alone. 
 Through the increasing distance he could 
 feel her eyes searching him out, could 
 receive and interpret their message of 
 love, fearful and yearning. Her lips 
 moved and he felt, rather than heard, the 
 whispered word, "No-ma!" 
 
 "N6-ma," my husband! The magic of 
 it caused his brain to reel. In that mo 
 ment, without reason and in sheer mad 
 ness, he was overpowered by the desire to 
 return to her. For the second something 
 in his soul told him to go back in spite of 
 everything and clasp her to his breast. A 
 shout sounded in his ears. His compan 
 ions were calling to him. With the re 
 ality of their voices, reason awoke and he 
 spurred the Pinto Pony into a break-neck 
 run. His future and hers depended on 
 this day; he must win glory in order to 
 claim her as his wife. Still he looked 
 back; looked again and yet again until 
 she appeared to be a mere fleeting wraith- 
 shape of the dawn, unearthly, unreal as 
 1 02
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the gossamer mists of morning which 
 glide out of nothing and melt into noth 
 ingness again. Once more he looked, 
 but she had vanished as absolutely as 
 though swallowed in the blue abyss of 
 space. . . . 
 
 The scouts, who rode somewhat in ad 
 vance of the main body of hunters, were 
 soon lost to sight over the swelling hills. 
 The sun was well up in his azure course 
 when these outrunners were seen riding 
 back at full gallop. They reported to 
 Eagle Plume that when his band came 
 to the crest of the next considerable hog 
 back, the buffalo could be seen feeding in 
 a small pocket in the hills which the 
 hunters would enter through a narrow 
 gap. The winds were asleep so there was 
 no danger of a gossiping breeze carrying 
 the hateful scent of man to the herd. 
 They proceeded cautiously and slowly as 
 they neared the hilltop and thence from 
 behind a screen of small second-growth 
 pines, looked down on the grazing ani 
 mals. There was never a murmur, never 
 103
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 a stir among Eagle Plume's men. Bright 
 red, recalescent spots burned on their 
 cheeks and their eyes shone as with 
 kindling fires. The country opened up 
 in a vast panorama. Beneath, the hills 
 swept away in a mighty ebb, from a small, 
 fertile valley, watered by a willow- 
 fringed stream where deep succulent 
 grass brushed the black-horns' paunches. 
 Voluptuously full-breasted hills rose 
 from the valley's lap, enclosing it on all 
 sides but one, where a gap showed the 
 dim tracery of more magnificent dis 
 tances. And here in this valley, extend 
 ing up the russet uplift of the hills, were 
 the buffalo, their countless legions flow 
 ing like the waters of a black sea over the 
 face of the land. Through the tense 
 silence sounded the crisp tearing of grass, 
 and now and again the deep bellow of a 
 bull. Over the dark, compact mass of 
 the buffalo, birds circled and dipped and 
 perched on the monster backs of the ob 
 livious, feeding animals. The mellow, 
 amber sun of autumn flowed out of the 
 104
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 blue depths of the sky, over hill and val 
 ley, buffalo and hovering birds. Noth 
 ing could have been more magnificently 
 pastoral. Even in the enormous re 
 strained energy of those splendid thou 
 sands there was the awful peace of a calm 
 sea or of mountain solitudes. 
 
 Eagle Plume gave the signal. Wolf 
 Medicine advanced solemnly with the 
 sacred pipe. In sight of the herd, before 
 the expectant hunters, he smoked and 
 made his prayer to Na-to-si, the Sun, Co- 
 co-mik-e-t'sum, the Moon and Sach-Kum, 
 the Mother Earth, then the pipe was 
 held with the stem towards the buffalo 
 and finally passed from mouth to mouth 
 among the braves. There was a pause. 
 Eagle Plume called the White Quiver to 
 him and spoke in whispers and signs. 
 The wise men drew over the young chief 
 a huge bison robe which concealed him 
 completely and covered the body of the 
 Pinto horse. He leaned low on the 
 pony's neck, the head of the buffalo hide 
 extending out to the horse's ears, 
 105
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Then, very deliberately, skirting around 
 the basin in the light undergrowth, he is 
 sued into the open before the herd, imi 
 tating the sound of a bull. The heavy 
 heads raised slowly. The White Quiver 
 looked back from beneath his disguise 
 and saw the thousand black eyes glow, 
 the moist nostrils quiver while the drip 
 ping jaws still crushed the juicy grass and 
 the munching lips foamed green. But in 
 that look he saw something which dis 
 tracted his attention even from that ter 
 rible spectacle. It was a snow-white 
 form among the black! Could it be the 
 sacred white buffalo prized above all 
 things earthly, the killing of which set 
 its slayer over the soothsayers and wise 
 men? He could see but part of the ani 
 mal as it grazed behind its fellows, but 
 he moved a trifle forward and slightly to 
 one side, never forgetting his part of de 
 coy and uttering from time to time the 
 sound of the bull which he had learned 
 so well. From this position he could see 
 more plainly. It was true. There was, 
 106
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 indeed, among the dusky hosts one pure, 
 white buffalo. Still he dared not un 
 cover to shoot or to be forgetful for one 
 passing moment of the desperate part he 
 played. There was a movement in the 
 herd. One huge bull came forward with 
 lowered head and raised tail. Another 
 and another followed their leader. The 
 White Quiver urged his pony on, on, to 
 ward the gap in the hills, beyond which 
 lay the "pis-kun" or precipice. He could 
 see a tremor like a wind-ripple on calm 
 waters run through the herd. Faster and 
 faster rolled the black billows, louder and 
 louder roared the thundering hoofs, 
 more terrible pealed the mad bellow of 
 bulls. Denser and more smothering be 
 came the cloud of dust that followed 
 them. The living flood had started on 
 its awful, resistless course; the fleshly 
 avalanche poured down, sweeping away 
 and annihilating everything in its path. 
 
 The White Quiver was riding for his 
 life. He leaned low and level over the 
 Pinto Pony's neck and gave the fleet- 
 107
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 footed creature full rein, whispering af 
 fectionate, urging words in its ears. An 
 infuriated bull charged at him but by 
 a dexterous turn he wheeled aside while 
 the brute tore past. He could feel the 
 hot breath of the buffalo upon him, feel 
 the ground tremble beneath the fury of 
 their onslaught, see the wicked, crescent 
 shaped horns lowered to gore and the 
 sharp, cleaving hoofs cutting into the 
 earth. He knew once they overtook him 
 he was doomed. 
 
 Still, with death at his heels he never 
 lost sight of the sacred white buffalo. He 
 would stake his life on that kill. Once 
 he could be sure of his aim he would 
 shoot, but not until then. He was cer 
 tain that his companions were in full pur 
 suit and before they spied his prize he 
 must strike. As he flew wind-swift, 
 barely a spear's throw ahead of the stam 
 peded herd, a missile whizzed close to his 
 head and struck the ground. It was an 
 arrow! Someone was shooting ahead of 
 the mark! 
 
 1 08
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 He urged the pony on faster, faster, un 
 til his limbs quivered beneath the strain 
 and the sweat showed in white foam over 
 his body. 
 
 "Kyi! hurry, hurry, Nis-kun, my little 
 brother, my brave one," the White 
 Quiver whispered and the gasping 
 horse responded in a desperate spurt of 
 speed. 
 
 To the left of the buffaloes' unaltera 
 ble course was a small butte and just be 
 yond, overhung by blue, autumnal haze, 
 lay the abyss. The White Quiver was 
 riding towards that butte. If he could 
 gain it he was saved. If not he was 
 lost. The White buffalo had been 
 crowded in that direction, too, which was, 
 happily, further removed from the pur 
 suing huntsmen, who were shooting ahead 
 of the herd. 
 
 Again and again a single bull with 
 flaming eyes and lowered head, charged 
 out from the main body of that flying 
 column, and pursued the White Quiver; 
 again and again the singing arrows darted 
 109
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 past and buried their pointed noses in the 
 prairie. Why was it that they were al 
 ways wide of the mark? They were fol 
 lowing him. Someone was aiming at 
 him! 
 
 "Faster, Nis-kun, little brother, faster 
 for our lives! A traitor is shooting at 
 us! A moment more and we shall be 
 saved!" 
 
 The Pinto Pony seemed to understand. 
 Sobbing for breath, trembling with ex 
 haustion, he plunged ahead. 
 
 The White Quiver turned to look back 
 but in the panorama of calm hills and 
 hurtling flesh rolling past, he could dis 
 tinguish no one of his people. There 
 were some horsemen speeding along but 
 he could not recognize any individual. 
 He was now nearing the butte and the 
 slight swell in the land gave him an ad 
 vantage in his view of the buffalo. His 
 prize was close to the edge of the flying 
 legions, that edge which swept like a 
 stormy tide around his refuge, the butte. 
 From the upland, the gorge was in full 
 no
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 sight. He could see the sheer drop of 
 that rock wall over which the herd would 
 plunge to death. He was on the verge 
 of safety. He felt the cool touch of 
 odorous balsam pine brush his forehead 
 when an arrow cut into his left arm near 
 the shoulder, leaving a deep, blood- 
 spurting gash in the flesh. 
 
 In another moment he was under cover. 
 Oblivious to the pain from his wound he 
 watched, scarce breathing, for the spot 
 of white, like a solitary foam-flake on a 
 stormy black sea. He could mark it 
 plainly now. It was approaching. It was 
 on the very rim of the wood. He waited. 
 He aimed deliberately and shot once, 
 twice. The white buffalo lurched, fell, 
 and a stream of red stained its snowy fur 
 just under the shoulder blade. He had 
 shot it in the most coveted place. 
 
 In that moment of triumph he forgot 
 the devouring arrows, the pursuing herd, 
 the sharp pang of his wound and thought 
 only of the glory he had won for the 
 Dawn Mist and of his last, half-fantastic, 
 in
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 weirdly unreal glimpse of her. And 
 even now in the heat of triumph that 
 memory smote him with a haunting fear 
 he could not understand. 
 
 He stanched his wound at a little 
 stream in the woods and remained under 
 shelter with the Pinto Pony, keeping 
 watch over the body of the white buffalo, 
 while the rest of the hunters circled on 
 ward in hot pursuit, closing in on the rear 
 of the herd and driving it relentlessly to 
 wards the gorge. The maddened beasts, 
 prodded by arrow-shots and spear thrusts, 
 with the hideous war-cry in their ears, 
 the eager riders hounding their rear, and 
 the new-sprung breeze carrying the 
 abominable scent of man full into their 
 distended nostrils, tore on. Suddenly the 
 vast lips of the gorge opened, showing 
 its silver-tongued stream, whose mighty 
 clamor was silenced by the more thunder 
 ous roar of crashing hoofs. Still the buf 
 falo did not hesitate nor turn. The aw 
 ful force of their velocity was not to be 
 checked nor swerved and the living sea 
 
 I 12
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 broke in a huge cataract and poured its 
 fleshly flood over the cliff to destruction. 
 
 The victorious hunters, with exultant 
 cries, dashed up close in the wake of their 
 prey. In the mad leap over the escarp 
 ment, some of the animals caught in 
 brush and trees and others, hurled with 
 greater force, lay quivering in their death 
 throes, in the bottom of the gorge. The 
 prairie was dotted with the huge, black 
 bulks of carcasses which had been shot 
 during the running. Already the skin 
 ning had begun and the half-starved peo 
 ple ate of the warm hearts as they cut 
 them from the palpitating bodies. 
 
 Eagle Plume surveyed the wonderful 
 scene. Pride and happiness shone be 
 neath the stony mask of calm he was wont 
 to wear. The prophecy of the Wind-God 
 was fulfilled. Here was meat in plenty 
 for the winter. The tribe was saved. 
 
 In a few hours the men and women 
 afoot came up and there was wild revelry. 
 Each family, whether its lord had partici 
 pated in the hunt or through the mis-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 fortune of having no horse, had been 
 forced to follow unmounted, would re 
 ceive its full portion of meat, so there was 
 abundance and happiness in every lodge. 
 With wonderful skill and dispatch men 
 and squaws skinned the animals, cut the 
 bodies in sections and loaded them on 
 travois to be taken back to camp. Num 
 bers of people were at work getting the 
 carcasses from the gorge. The meat 
 must be collected quickly for in a single 
 night the coyotes and bears and timber 
 wolves would strip the bones bare. 
 
 The Night Wind rode precariously on 
 the verge of the declivity and more than 
 once the rotten rock crumbled and the 
 hind hoof of his pony hung for a second 
 over the brink. The Night Wind 
 laughed wildly. The abandon of excite 
 ment in the chase, the red slaughter and 
 now the hypnotic, seductively beautiful 
 space below, reposeful with the terrible 
 calm of after-death, filled him with sav 
 age joy. 
 
 "I know you!" he shouted into the hazy 
 114
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 spaces, "Your maw is full of dead things 
 now, yet you are not satisfied. Your song 
 is sweet and you are lovely under your 
 purple veil but you cannot fool me! 
 Ahl no I I am not afraid of you but I 
 am not ready to come to your couch of 
 stone to-day, Lady Ravine!" 
 
 "Where is the White Quiver? Who 
 has seen him?" asked Eagle Plume. 
 
 No one could answer. The last time 
 the hunters had noticed him was when he 
 was riding towards a wooded butte to 
 escape the on-rushing herd. The Owl 
 Brave was among those who kept near 
 Eagle Plume. He had not seen the 
 White Quiver, he said. He had lost 
 sight of him early in the day. Eagle 
 Plume was troubled and announced that 
 if the young chief did not appear soon, 
 he would despatch a party from the Mad 
 Dog Society to search for him. 
 
 There was a rumor of a white buffalo 
 having been discovered, then lost among 
 the band. Some affirmed this stoutly and 
 others were as certain that it was not so. 
 
 "5
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The subject created much interest and 
 those who descended into the ravine 
 looked carefully for the body of the sa 
 cred beast. Someone suggested that al 
 though there might, indeed, have been a 
 white buffalo, it had perhaps changed 
 form as those wonderful creatures occa 
 sionally did, and thus escaped unharmed. 
 
 They were still speaking of this when 
 the White Quiver was seen approaching. 
 He walked slowly, leading the Pinto 
 horse by the bridle, and down his left 
 arm trickled a stream of blood. Eagle 
 Plume, himself, went forward to meet 
 him. 
 
 "What has befallen you?" he asked. 
 "I was sending six young men of the Mad 
 Dog Band to search for you." 
 
 The White Quiver was weak from loss 
 of blood. He pointed to his arm. 
 
 "I was shot and the horse was jaded," 
 he answered, after a moment, "but these 
 things are nothing. I have killed a 
 young, white buffalo cow. Will you and 
 Wolf Medicine and the patriarchs return 
 116
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 with me to the wooded butte and see the 
 kill?" 
 
 A great cry arose, a cry of incredu 
 lous wonder and admiration. Eagle 
 Plume saluted him with deep respect, 
 Wolf Medicine, chief of the wise men, 
 paid him homage, the stories of other 
 hunts which the old warriors had been 
 telling died on their lips. By one deed 
 the White Quiver had taken precedence 
 over them all, for to kill the sacred buf 
 falo was greater than victory on the war 
 path, more glorious than a hundred bril 
 liant coups. 
 
 The Owl Brave, who had clung to Eagle 
 Plume, winced as one who had been dealt 
 a sudden blow. In his heart he cried: 
 "The Sun-God wither his soul!" but his 
 tightened lips spoke not and he turned si 
 lently and went his way. 
 
 Though the White Quiver was faint he 
 would take no rest. Wolf Medicine 
 bathed and bound his wound, and ap 
 plied to it the healing balm of medicine 
 herbs from his bundle. He also made 
 117
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 prayers to the Sun for the young chief's 
 recovery. Then mounting a fresh horse 
 the White Quiver led Eagle Plume, 
 Wolf Medicine and the patriarchs with 
 a few picked hunters to the butte where 
 the white buffalo lay. The Pipe Stem 
 men made offerings to the Sun, the Moon 
 and the Mother Earth and after this sol 
 emn ceremony, the carcass was skinned 
 and the hide carried with reverent care 
 back to the temporary camp at the verge 
 of the precipice. 
 
 The shadows were growing gray and 
 long and the sun hung low over the moun 
 tain tops. The day of the great hunt was 
 drawing to a close. 
 
 Eagle Plume ordered the hunters to re 
 main where they were. They could not 
 leave the rich kill, therefore they must 
 stay and keep watch. In one single night 
 beasts of prey would devour the winter's 
 supply of meat, or there might be enemies 
 lurking near, ready to attack and despoil 
 them. 
 
 Eagle Plume, with a small band, in- 
 118
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 eluding Wolf Medicine, prepared to ride 
 back to the main camp. The people, 
 half-delirious with joy, called upon the 
 White Quiver to stay and be master of 
 the feast which was to last all night, but 
 he, having a single thought and desire, 
 joined the followers of Eagle Plume and 
 set out for camp. 
 
 When they finally galloped off the dusk 
 had fallen. Fires were springing up and 
 there was the sound of loud laughter and 
 singing. Over every fire portions of buf 
 falo meat were roasting and until the pale 
 dawn should stalk like a gray wolf over 
 the skies, there would be feasting and rev 
 elry. 
 
 But the White Quiver, he who was pro 
 claimed hero for the second time, felt 
 glad to escape the merry-making. His 
 uneasy thoughts were with the Dawn 
 Mist and he pictured her again and again 
 as he had seen her last, vanishing like a 
 wraith shape in the early morn, breathing 
 on the light-winged wind the single word : 
 
 "No-'ma!" 
 
 119
 
 NIGHT had settled thick and 
 dark with a cold sprinkling of 
 stars to light the way, when 
 Eagle Plume, with the White Quiver 
 riding beside him, gained the main 
 camp. The White Quiver proudly bore 
 with him his glorious trophy of the 
 chase, the snowy hide of the young buf 
 falo cow and trotting close beside him, 
 seeming conscious of the honor he had 
 helped his master to win, was the Pinto 
 horse. 
 
 Dogs barked loudly at the sound of rid 
 ers galloping by night and startled faces 
 peered out of the lodges. The news of 
 the great kill spread fast. The lanes 
 among the tipis were soon swarming with 
 eager, cheering women, children and old 
 men, but the young chief caught no 
 glimpse of her for whom he had dared 
 1 20
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and done all. In vain his restless eyes 
 threaded the mazes of the lodges and 
 scanned each face as it appeared in the 
 light of flaming torch and camp fire. 
 She was not there. 
 
 The Tall Pine advanced to welcome her 
 lord and his retinue. Her face was full 
 of anxiety. The Dawn Mist lay sick on 
 her couch, she said, else she, too, would 
 have come to greet her father and the 
 White Quiver. She greatly feared that 
 some spell had been cast over her daugh 
 ter. She urged Wolf Medicine to come 
 at once to her aid. 
 
 A terrible depression settled like a 
 black cloud over the White Quiver. He, 
 whose heart had beat with pride but a 
 few moments ago, was jaded and inert. 
 The lash of the frosty wind had a new 
 sting which smote his wound; the glad 
 shouts of the people withered in his ears; 
 their smiles bleared into grimaces and he 
 saw everywhere only the reflection of his 
 own disappointment. Without her there 
 could be no glory nor happiness and he 
 121
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 was resolved to endure the torture of sep 
 aration from her no longer. 
 
 Eagle Plume made a brief speech tell 
 ing his subjects that in one day his hunt 
 ers had killed enough meat to feed the 
 tribe for four or five moons ; that the Sun- 
 God had been with them, guiding their 
 arrows and speeding their horses; that the 
 young chief, White Quiver, had bravely 
 led the herd to the brink of the abyss and 
 he had further glorified himself and his 
 nation by killing a young white buffalo 
 cow. He promised that as soon as the 
 tribe was assembled again they should 
 feast for three days. 
 
 Meantime he had his young men dis 
 tribute portions of meat that they had 
 brought in the different lodges, and bade 
 them all eat until their bellies were full. 
 
 Then he retired to his lodge and the 
 White Quiver, escaping from those who 
 would have claimed him, sought his own 
 humble tipi and lay down on his couch. 
 
 It was late when the sounds of merri 
 ment ceased. A herald of the night 
 122
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 guard rode through the camp and or 
 dered stragglers to their quarters. He 
 waited until all was still, then he rose and 
 went out in the cool night. No living 
 creature stirred. Even the trees were 
 asleep and the tired stars began to nod. 
 He went very cautiously to where the 
 Pinto Pony was picketed. 
 
 "Little Brother, little brother," he 
 whispered, stroking the horse's velvet- 
 soft nose, "I am going to give you away!" 
 
 The pony whinnied and gently rubbed 
 his nose over his master's breast. Then 
 the White Quiver led him to the lodge 
 of Eagle Plume and tied him there. The 
 young man returned to his own tipi, 
 brought forth the precious white hide and 
 laid it before the lodge of the Great Chief. 
 
 This done, he sighed and after pausing 
 a moment to listen, crept back to his tipi. 
 As he neared the threshold he stopped 
 with a start. The wolf dog of Ky-O was 
 slinking in the shadow. An awful curse 
 fell from his lips and he sprang at the 
 beast but it had vanished before he could 
 123
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 reach it. Why, he asked himself in im 
 potent fury, should that accursed thing of 
 evil cross his path at this supreme hour of 
 his life? 
 
 He lay down on his couch and tossed 
 feverishly until at last the heaviness of 
 fatigue quieted him and he slept. Yet 
 his sleep was oppressed with dreams. 
 He was riding, riding, riding over hope 
 less wastes leading a herd of buffalo to a 
 fathomless abyss. And among the herd 
 was a young white buffalo cow which he 
 risked his life to kill. But as he shot and 
 the arrow pierced the creature's hide, 
 dealing a death wound he saw that it was 
 the Dawn Mist he had killed and Ky-O 
 who appeared suddenly laughed at him 
 and cried: 
 
 "You have slain your love! Fools, 
 fools, fools kissing over blood drip and 
 bleaching bones!" 
 
 He awoke with a start and the cold 
 sweat streamed from his body. His heart 
 beats choked him and over him was the 
 heaviness of impending disaster. 
 124
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The tipi was flooded with the tender 
 light of the new day. 
 
 Were those shouts, that confusion, 
 a lingering hallucination or reality? 
 What was it they were saying? Cap 
 tured stolen Who? What? He was 
 out in the open with one huge bound. 
 People were crowding together and ges 
 ticulating. He ran straight to the lodge 
 of Eagle Plume, which was surrounded 
 by excited men and women. 
 
 "What has happened, O! Chief?" he 
 cried. 
 
 "My child, the Dawn Mist is gone! 
 She was stolen from her couch, spirited 
 from my lodge while we slept! We have 
 all become old women!" 
 
 "Stolen! Who has dared? The Dawn 
 Mist stolen!" 
 
 "A band of the enemy must have ap 
 proached in the night and carried her 
 away." 
 
 The Tall Pine crouched in a corner 
 rocking herself to and fro and mourn 
 ing: 
 
 125
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "My daughter! My lovely One!" she 
 cried. 
 
 The White Quiver was stricken dumb. 
 For that moment he ceased to live. He 
 breathed in short, sibilant gasps, but his 
 eyes were fixed and stolid as those of an 
 ox and his mighty body was rigid as one 
 seized with catalepsy. People came and 
 went but they seemed far away and de 
 tached from his consciousness and their 
 voices reached him as from distant hill 
 tops. 
 
 He stood thus, impaled with sorrow, 
 until at length Eagle Plume, who had 
 been absorbed with the grief which his 
 proud spirit would not let him show, 
 noted the young man's strange condition. 
 The Great Chief's calm face expressed 
 surprise, then pity. He laid his hand on 
 the White Quiver's shoulder. 
 
 "I did not know, my son. Is it true, 
 you love her?" 
 
 The White Quiver roused himself. 
 
 "You did not know," he answered, 
 "when I offered you my all, the Pinto 
 126
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Pony and the white buffalo hide, for 
 her?" 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Before dawn." 
 
 "Then, they, too, have been stolen. All 
 is lost!" 
 
 "No! Not lost, by the Sun-God! I 
 will pursue the dogs who have taken her 
 and leave not a scalp amongst them. I 
 will follow her and bring her back or 
 join her in the Great White Desert!" 
 
 The White Quiver uttered these words 
 in a mighty passion of resolve. His cour 
 age and hope had ebbed as ebbs the sea's 
 tide and now they rushed at the flood, 
 sweeping even grief before them. Pie 
 felt himself possessed of wonderous 
 strength and he was as an armed host. 
 
 127
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE White Quiver and a small 
 band of scouts set out and while 
 daylight lasted they examined 
 the country about the camp, traveling in 
 a great circle and following every track, 
 yet in spite of the best efforts of their keen 
 senses they could find no trace of the 
 Dawn Mist and her captors. Eagle 
 Plume and his young men, the Owl Brave 
 and his party and several other expedi 
 tions had been searching, but at dark all 
 returned baffled and dismayed. If she 
 had risen in a breath of mist and then 
 been dissolved by the sun, she could not 
 have disappeared more mysteriously or 
 completely. 
 
 Eagle Plume despatched riders to the 
 
 temporary camp at the gorge to report 
 
 the loss of his daughter and to urge every 
 
 warrior to immediate action. No one 
 
 128
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 there had seen any sign of the enemy or 
 of her, though it was known that a band 
 of Kootenais had camped not far away. 
 Gloom fell over the people, and the re 
 turn of the tribe was not as a triumphal 
 procession such as had been planned, but 
 as a body of mourners. The Dawn Mist 
 was beloved and moreover she was the 
 child of renowned parents, so her loss was 
 felt in a double sense. Some of the 
 women shaved their hair, painted their 
 faces black or gashed themselves with 
 knives in token of grief, and as the long, 
 scattered column came over the hills and 
 down towards the lodge of the Great 
 Chief, bearing with them the rich har 
 vest of flesh, there was only the sound of 
 wailing, rising fitfully above the clatter 
 of horses' hoofs. 
 
 The Night Wind was entirely mad 
 dened by the shock. His sister and him 
 self had always enjoyed a strange and 
 close companionship. Who would go 
 with him now, on his rambles in the for 
 ests and tell him tales of the woodland 
 129
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 folk? She knew each flower and tree 
 and stream and mountain; knew the fly 
 ing hosts of clouds and what the west 
 wind told the pines. Besides, she was the 
 one link between himself and the world 
 of men. Only through the medium of 
 her sympathy could he understand their 
 thoughts. The period of the hunt had 
 been one of desperate excitement for him, 
 and now, completely distraught, he clung 
 to his mother and was at once her sorrow 
 and her comfort. 
 
 The White Quiver returned from the 
 empty search and retired to his lodge. 
 He sat on his couch, his arms folded 
 across his knees, his face hidden on them 
 and his robe thrown over his head. 
 Darkness fell but he did not stir. Peo 
 ple came to his threshold and called but 
 he did not hear and they dared not dis 
 turb his solitary self-communion. Dawn 
 pulsed through the blackness and found 
 him still sitting, motionless as a statue of 
 bronze. His whole being was shaping 
 itself into one supreme resolve, which, 
 130
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 henceforth would dominate his life. As 
 the sun rose red in the east and filled the 
 lodge with ruddy light, he stood erect and 
 very calmly walked out into the young 
 day. The air was clear and cold. He 
 breathed deeply of it and felt its pristine 
 vigor tingle in his blood. Frost spar 
 kled coldly on the ground and wove 
 shimmering patterns on the bunch grass 
 and the sage. The snowy peaks flushed 
 rose in the dawn. 
 
 The White Quiver presented himself 
 to Eagle Plume who was closeted with 
 Wolf Medicine. The Chief, who had 
 not deigned to allow paternal emotion 
 to disturb his outward serenity, was sud 
 denly old. Deep lines had seamed his 
 face over night, and his eyes, sunken back 
 into his head, wandered restlessly. Wolf 
 Medicine and the other wise men had 
 been constantly interceding with the Sun 
 since the Dawn Mist disappeared, but 
 thus far the Great Mystery had made no 
 revelation. 
 
 The White Quiver stood before them
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and they felt in his presence the tremen 
 dous power of restrained force that lay 
 beneath his noble calm. 
 
 He waited until Eagle Plume bade him 
 speak. 
 
 "O! Chief I 
 
 "I have come to ask the quest of your 
 daughter, the Dawn Mist. I will go out 
 into the world and seek her. I shall take 
 no rest or pleasure until I find her or die 
 for her." 
 
 Eagle Plume looked at him long and 
 earnestly, then replied: 
 
 "Go! White Quiver I You have done 
 brave deeds. I have faith in you. I 
 have sworn to the Sun that whosoever 
 finds my child shall possess her in mar 
 riage. May she be yours I" 
 
 The White Quiver bowed low, then 
 turned to Wolf Medicine. 
 
 "I would speak with you, Wolf Medi 
 cine," he said. "Before I go I would 
 make my spirit strong. I wish to bear 
 the torture, to fast for four suns in the 
 great loneliness and dream for power. 
 132
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 When I return I will take my young men 
 and go on the war-path." 
 
 Wolf Medicine answered: 
 
 "White Quiver! What you wish to 
 undertake few dare to do. If it is your 
 will, go, and I shall give you a sacred 
 pipe for dreams." 
 
 Eagle Plume took the hand of the 
 White Quiver in both of his and said: 
 
 "No-ko-i, my sonl" 
 
 It was decided that the skull of the 
 white buffalo, which had been carefully 
 saved, should be used as the instrument 
 of torture to fortify the soul of the young 
 warrior, even as it mortified his flesh. 
 Having purified himself with the sweat 
 bath he bared his broad back where the 
 muscles swelled in welts of manly strength, 
 then with ceremonies and invocations, 
 in the presence of a goodly assembly of 
 people, principally his own band, the 
 Wolf Medicine unwrapped the sacred 
 Pipe Stem, took a sharp knife, made two 
 deep gashes over each shoulder-blade and 
 raised the flesh in broad strips. The 
 
 133
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 sweat stood in beads on the tense body of 
 the White Quiver but he made no sound 
 or sign. Blood ran in crimson streams 
 from his wounds and dripped on the 
 ground. A sigh breathed from the 
 spectators. The White Quiver neither 
 winced nor trembled nor did his stony ex 
 pression change. He was apparently the 
 most indifferent of them all. Wolf Med 
 icine continued his work with constant 
 chants and invocations. The skull of the 
 buffalo cow painted half-black and half- 
 red was brought and to it were attached 
 two long, stout, leather thongs. Every 
 knot was tested carefully, then a wooden 
 skewer was passed under the loose strips 
 of flesh on the White Quiver's shoulders 
 and to this the end of each thong was tied 
 with precision and relentless care. When 
 this was done a pipe with which to woo 
 the Dream was fixed in his belt. Around 
 his neck hung a sacred medicine whistle 
 made of bone from the wild goose's wing. 
 He clasped his hands rigidly behind 
 him and flung his face upwards toward 
 
 134
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the sun. His lips moved in prayer, then, 
 like a bull that gathers strength to 
 charge, without looking to the right or 
 to the left, he lowered his head, the thews 
 of his legs sprang up like things of steel 
 and he started off across the hushed rip 
 ples of the hills. 
 
 Every eye followed him and masses of 
 people watched in heavy silence until his 
 toiling figure lessened in the distance and 
 finally vanished. Then they parted into 
 small groups and spoke together in low 
 tones. 
 
 Meantime the White Quiver went on, 
 now plodding stolidly as an ox, again 
 leaping defiantly in a frenzy of pain when 
 his burden caught on a protruding root 
 or rock. No matter what he did, 
 whether he trod with measured step or 
 flung himself wildly into the air, the 
 thongs remained mercilessly fixed even 
 though he felt his flesh tear and the blood 
 start afresh. The prairie stretched out 
 before him, tawny as a lion's hide, broken 
 only by seared scatterings of bunch grass, 
 
 135
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 hoary gray wormwood, prickly pear 
 abloom with moon-like flowers and 
 whitish patches of alkali. Hanging low 
 over the dry earth was a thick purplish 
 vapor that painted the distant vistas 
 with royal hues. Far away, jutting 
 sharply into the blue, was a naked ridge 
 of lesser mountains, shattered into barren 
 buttes and precipitous cliffs. Towards 
 this point the White Quiver set his eyes 
 and struggled. Occasionally a ribbon of 
 verdant green marked the course of a 
 stream and he waded through water 
 which he must not drink though his 
 parched tongue was swollen with thirst. 
 He lost track of time and distance. Upon 
 the whole horizon of his mind loomed 
 but one thought, to press on and on and 
 ever on, over heavy miles until he should 
 free himself of the buffalo skull. Some 
 times his senses swooned, the world be 
 came black and his strained limbs ceased 
 their mechanical motion, but always the 
 thought of the Dawn Mist scourged him 
 as a lash and he staggered forward. Still 
 
 36
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the torrid sun beat down with flaming 
 brand and the reflected heat quivered vis 
 ibly over the dry, alkali waste. 
 
 Towards evening a flood of crimson in 
 carnadined the lean, yellow plain and the 
 long shadows became a deeper blue. By 
 this radiant light the mountains seemed 
 suddenly very near. Three sharp buttes 
 towered, clear cut and defiant before him. 
 The highest of these was his goal. 
 Straight ahead, between him and the 
 mountains, was a small wood of scrub 
 pines and he entered their thin, sun-dap 
 pled shadow gratefully. He went on a 
 little faster, gaining heart and strength 
 with the reviving freshness of the shade. 
 The ground here was rough with pro 
 truding roots and he stumbled, falling 
 heavily. He lay prone for a while, faint 
 with pain, then rose with extreme effort. 
 The sun had sunk and a draught of ca 
 ressingly cool air breathed on the earth. 
 The tender rose-shot gray of the moth 
 hour subdued the garish glare of day. A 
 little farther ahead a wind-fall crossed 
 
 137
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 his path. He stood before it, helpless. 
 He could not turn to either side for the 
 trees grew too thick and he was traveling 
 the only open way, an old game trail. 
 The wind-fall was only a small, uprooted 
 pine but had it been a gigantic barrier 
 it could not have seemed more insur 
 mountable to him. Was he to stop there 
 in his tracks baffled like a brute by the 
 mischievous trick of a dead tree? Dull, 
 stubborn rage kindled in him. He 
 would not yield. He bent far over, sum 
 moning his last reserve of strength; he 
 ground his teeth into his bleeding lips 
 and gave one tremendous bound. There 
 was a hideous tear and break; a cataclysm 
 of pain that sent the stars of heaven show 
 ering about his head. He rolled over 
 and over in agony. In that final effort he 
 had rent the fleshly strips that bound him. 
 He was free. 
 
 When he opened his eyes it was dark. 
 Only thin, little moonbeams trickling 
 through the trees picked out occasional 
 objects and threw them into high relief. 
 
 '38
 
 The still air was full of mystical night 
 sounds. He lay carefully on his left side, 
 recalling that for two sleeps he must rest 
 on his left side and for two he must rest 
 on his right side. He was foredone and 
 had scarcely strength to fill and smoke 
 the sacred pipe, to sing his songs and 
 make his prayer before he sank into un 
 consciousness again, to wait for the com 
 ing of Nits-o'-kan, his Dream for Power. 
 He slept long and heavily and when 
 he awoke pale streamers of sun were 
 flowing among the shadows of the pines. 
 Birds twittered busily overhead, peeking 
 down at him with round, inquisitive eyes. 
 Squirrels chattered noisily as they flashed 
 from limb to limb. Everywhere there 
 was the prevailing spirit of liveliness and 
 activity which greets each sunrise. The 
 White Quiver felt the spell as did the 
 birds and the squirrels and each living 
 thing. He struggled to his feet. No 
 Dream Helper had come to him in the 
 night. A weight as of stone oppressed 
 him; his wounds were living pains, burn- 
 
 139
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ing as white-hot brands; his muscles were 
 sore but flooding his brain as the sun 
 light flooded the universe was the thought 
 of the Dawn Mist and the object on which 
 he was bent. 
 
 He filled his lungs with the pure fra 
 grant air of the new day and it was as 
 food and drink to him. He advanced a 
 few steps, then stopped and listened. His 
 nostrils widened, his dry lips moved. 
 What was that pleasant noise issuing 
 from the silence? Was it merely a mock 
 ing little wind, jesting idly with the 
 trees or was it, Water! The liquid, 
 rushing sound came from the direction of 
 a clump of cottonwoods and willows and 
 he staggered towards it blindly. Pres 
 ently among the lacy-leafed, red-stemmed, 
 pungent-smelling willow bushes he saw 
 the cold, silver glint of flowing water. 
 He leaped into it, he flung out his arms 
 in it, bathed his face, his head, his long 
 matted, bloody hair in it, and gave his 
 whole, exhausted body to the cold, stimu 
 lating water. Yet despite the lust of 
 140
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 thirst that tempted and tortured him to 
 the point of frenzy, no drop defiled his 
 lips and violated his fast. 
 
 As he emerged from the little wood 
 into the open, and great, painted spaces 
 unrolled before him, he saw among the 
 distant, purple line of peaks, streamers of 
 mist drifting, changing, melting into sun- 
 heated air. They were as she had been, 
 as beautiful, as evanescent and as little 
 of earth. Inspired by the thought of her 
 he struggled on, harried by the merciless 
 task-master, self-sacrifice. Straight be 
 fore him was the rising sweep of a barren, 
 rocky country, culminating in the three 
 sharp buttes that had been as guide posts. 
 No more bleak or desolate landscape 
 could be imagined. Above him swam 
 the blue sky, beneath his feet spread 
 chaotic wastes and standing before him 
 as though to bar the way were the three 
 challenging buttes. He might have been 
 the First Man, alone in an unpeopled 
 sphere. Huge boulders lay in his path 
 and he toiled painfully over slides of 
 141
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 sandstone. Sheer-cut cliffs dropped diz 
 zily, revealing smooth, brilliantly-colored 
 rock walls and gorge-depths filled with 
 violet haze. Two mountain goats stepped 
 with nice precision around a little ledge 
 overhanging a precipice. A bighorn 
 sheep, perched on a soaring pinnacle, 
 reared his splendid crest against the sky 
 and an eagle, poised on motionless wings, 
 drifted in the gold-steeped blue. The 
 grandeur of the vast stillness was more elo 
 quent than any sound. The music of the 
 gods is silence absolute. As he proceeded 
 there fell upon the agonized body and 
 soul of the toiling man, something of the 
 peace of the mountains. Compared with 
 these magnificent spaces, these heaven- 
 confronting heights, he felt humbled into 
 insignificance. Even his wounds seemed 
 slight and superficial when he saw the 
 vitals of the mountainside torn asunder 
 and laid bare. 
 
 The White Quiver was straining to 
 reach the tallest of the three buttes. He 
 stopped often to breathe and gain power. 
 142
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 His moccasins were cut to pieces by the 
 sharp rocks and his feet were torn and 
 bleeding. 
 
 Mid-day caught him as in a trap be 
 tween the hot, molten blue and the 
 scorching pavement of stone. There was 
 no shelter save the thin, purple shadows 
 of boulders and crags. A terrible thirst 
 seared him. His dry tongue crackled be 
 tween his parched lips. The torrid sun 
 beat down until he grew giddy and a little 
 mad. He fancied he saw evil, mocking 
 spirits in the trailing shadows, and tipis 
 of ghost-enemies in the scattered white 
 clouds that floated lazily across the bur 
 nished blue. 
 
 The long day wore on and at last as 
 the sun hung over the mystical purple of 
 the Great Range, the White Quiver 
 stood on the ultimate summit of the 
 mountain. The earth fell away beneath 
 him. He seemed to be soaring and his 
 spirit was filled with wonderful exalta 
 tion. On that pinnacle of stone his soul 
 was alone with the Infinite.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 He looked long at the sinking Lord of 
 the Universe, held his arms high over his 
 head and cried: 
 
 "Great Mystery! Maker of Dreams! 
 
 "Look down on me from your blue 
 lodge which is the sky! 
 
 "You see my heart is strong and pure. 
 
 "I have borne the torture and kept my 
 fast. 
 
 "Send me a Dream of Power and a 
 Dream Helper. 
 
 "Give me the wisdom of the patriarchs, 
 the strength of fifty warriors that I may 
 find the Dawn Mist. 
 
 "Oh ! Sun ! fill my spirit with your light 
 and show me your will." 
 
 The White Quiver stood motionless, 
 straining his arms out towards the sun 
 that dropped beneath the horizon into the 
 dark curtains of his shadowy lodge, the 
 night. His voice pealed out loudly and 
 it came rippling back in lessening undula 
 tions until it died in silence. 
 
 The moth hour came. 
 
 The Evening Star struggled to free 
 144
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 itself from the thrall of light, and gleamed 
 at first faintly and uncertainly in the pale 
 green sky. Then others flashed bright 
 torches from the gathering dusk until the 
 whole black dome of heaven glittered and 
 thrilled. The Wolf Trail spanned the in 
 finite darkness with pearly light. The 
 constellation of the Lost Children clung 
 timidly together in their heavenly refuge; 
 the Seven Brothers and the Lodge of the 
 Spider Man shone bright and clear, and 
 through the Fixed Star of the North, 
 which is the opening into the Sun-God's 
 kingdom, beamed the celestial rays of 
 Paradise. 
 
 Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, the wan, white 
 moon, in her unending flight, stood tip 
 toe on the horizon, then soared into the 
 nightly skies. 
 
 The stars spelled midnight . . . The 
 Moon completed the vast semi-circle of 
 the sky and set over the frosty peaks. 
 The darkness grew thicker. Then the 
 Herald of the Dawn, Epi-so-ax, the 
 Morning Star and his half-human Child,
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the New Robe or the False Morning Star 
 rose in conjunction, great, luminous 
 spheres of dazzling light. 
 
 Still the White Quiver kept his vigil. 
 
 He kindled a fire from the living coal 
 which he carried in his fire-horn and on 
 it he burned sweet-grass, balsam-pine and 
 fragrant herbs in the hope that the in 
 cense might bring a Dream Helper to 
 him. 
 
 In the cold, burnt-out gray of dawn he 
 lay down to dream for Power and while 
 he slept he had a vivid vision. 
 
 He saw, stretching below him, a fair 
 country, green with grass and watered 
 with many pleasant streams. The dawn 
 light, mellow, golden-white tinged the 
 valleys, touched the hilltops and lingered 
 lovingly on the mists that drifted like 
 spirits over the earth. One of these pale, 
 luminous mist-shapes drifted towards 
 him, drifted and drifted until it hung 
 poised above him, then he saw it change 
 form and assume a human likeness and lo! 
 it was the Dawn Mist herself! 
 146
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 At the same time out of the emptiness 
 sounded a voice of thunder saying: 
 
 "// you 'would have the Dawn Mist, 
 overcome the Medicine of Ky-0, the 
 Grizzly Bear!" 
 
 He sprang up startled and awake. The 
 Dream was gone but those strange words 
 rang in his ears. He listened for further 
 admonition but none came. Silence 
 dropped like a dead weight on the sleep 
 ing earth. The Dream had come and was 
 gone. But what did it signify? What 
 meant that inexplicable message of the 
 Voice: 
 
 "If you 'would have the Dawn Mist, 
 overcome the Medicine of Ky-O, the 
 Grizzly Bear!" 
 
 Ky-O ! the Grizzly Bear ! Did it mean 
 that savage breed of the mountains, or, 
 O! riddle of riddles, did it mean the hag 
 who had always stood between him and 
 the fulfillment of his desire? 
 
 He watched and waited on the moun 
 tain top praying, burning sweet-grass and 
 singing his sacred songs. He smoked to 
 
 147
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 urge his Dream Helper to return and he 
 rigidly kept his fast. In the night hush, 
 the weird, deep measure of his song 
 sounded with the gray wolves* thousand- 
 tongued plaint to the moon. Four suns 
 rose and set and his Dream for power re 
 mained unanswered. 
 
 148
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ON the evening of the seventh day 
 the White Quiver returned. His 
 features had become sharper and 
 the expression of his face set and har 
 dened. He told nothing of what had be 
 fallen him and no one dared violate his 
 silence with a question, yet all could see 
 how terrible must have been the purifica 
 tion which he had undergone; how piti 
 less and stern had been his self-chastise 
 ment. 
 
 He came back noiselessly and mysteri 
 ously as a shadow that slips out of the 
 palm of night, and walked among the 
 tipis, looking neither to the right nor to 
 the left. His tribesfolk watched him 
 with reverence, but, in respect for him, 
 they showed no outward sign. They 
 noted, through the cool grayness of dusk, 
 the depth and rupture of his wounds and 
 149
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 how in even seven sunsets, his ribs showed 
 in bronze bars through the flesh. He 
 walked around the circle of the camp and 
 passed by the lodge of the Owl Brave, 
 who stood in the open in company with 
 his men. The White Quiver had become 
 acutely sensitive to influences from with 
 out and he felt the enmity of their stare 
 and fancied he heard a suppressed laugh 
 as he took his way slowly towards his tipi. 
 He had not gone many paces when sud 
 denly there appeared in his path the bent 
 form of Ky-O, the witch woman, and in 
 evitable as fate, the lean, wolf-dog fol 
 lowed at her heels. The White Quiver 
 stopped. His whole being thrilled with 
 rage and red murder flamed in his eyes. 
 Here she was, the hag, who, by some un 
 known spell, had come between him and 
 the desire of his soul. At no time, upon 
 no occasion when all seemed fair for him, 
 had her black shadow failed to fall across 
 his path. All of these torturing thoughts 
 swept over him in a scorching flood, as 
 a forest fire sweeps the wood, and ringing 
 150
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 in his ears was the Voice that sounded in 
 his Dream, crying: 
 
 "// you would have the Dawn Mist, 
 overcome the Medicine of Ky~O t the 
 grizzly bear!" 
 
 Involuntarily he gripped the knife at 
 his side, but the old woman seemed so 
 slight a thing after all, so pitifully un 
 worthy of a warrior's steel. Then, too, 
 he knew nothing to justify such a deed of 
 violence. The words of his father came 
 to him: 
 
 "He who is master of himself, who 
 yields neither to rage, nor lust nor hatred 
 nor love, may some day be fit to be a chief 
 among men." 
 
 The cold wisdom of these tenets was 
 not for his stormy soul where love was 
 supreme ruler, but he could curb his rage, 
 his hatred, and he passed on and disap 
 peared from sight. He fancied she 
 would have detained him and spoken with 
 him, but the suppressed fury of his mien 
 silenced her and she spoke no word. 
 
 Next day he and Wolf Medicine re-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 mained together from the hour the sun 
 hung in mid-heaven to its setting behind 
 the spiked purple barrier of the peaks, 
 but what the ancient wise man heard from 
 the young brave's lips, no one ever knew, 
 for, as the solitudes of earth, where the 
 Great Mystery works its Supreme will, 
 are grandly silent, so the soul of man, 
 pregnant with heroic deeds, speaks not, 
 but waits until the appointed time, then 
 acts. 
 
 As the evening star shone luminously in 
 the deepening violet of the sky, the White 
 Quiver went about among his young men 
 and made known to them that he was going 
 on the war-path. Those of them who had 
 no fear in their hearts might go with him, 
 but any man whose life was dearer than 
 glory must remain behind. Eight of his 
 band swore that they would serve him to 
 the death. 
 
 Eagle Plume sanctioned the expedition. 
 
 He would remain with the tribe until the 
 
 scouts, who were forever scouring the 
 
 country, should report some trace of the 
 
 152
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 enemy and there was some clue to follow, 
 in which event, he would start in pursuit 
 immediately. Meantime he trusted ev 
 erything to the White Quiver for he knew 
 the might of purpose that had caused him 
 to endure the torture and to fast for four 
 suns in the solitude. 
 
 The Tall Pine prepared a feast of mar 
 row bones for the White Quiver and his 
 departing braves. She had shorn her 
 long, black hair, inflicted deep wounds 
 upon her flesh and painted half of her 
 face black in token of mourning, but now 
 her breast leapt at the thought of the red 
 glory of the war-path and she longed to 
 be off with the young men and to battle 
 side by side with them as she had in the 
 days of her youth with Eagle Plume, her 
 lord. 
 
 The braves ate of the boss marrow 
 bones solemnly and in religious quiet 
 Everyone knew that the White Quiver and 
 his war party were issuing upon a des 
 perate quest and that this might be the 
 last time they should meet together this
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 side of the Great White Desert of the 
 Dead. 
 
 At intervals during the feast, the tom 
 toms beat, then ceased, and between the 
 lodge curtains from without, glowed the 
 light of a kindling fire. At each throb 
 of the drum the White Quiver threw back 
 his head a little and listened. That mar 
 shal call came again and again with grow 
 ing rapidity and greater spirit. It ran 
 like an alarm through the night silence 
 and sent men's blood tingling in their 
 veins from quickened hearts. To each of 
 them it brought memories of desperate 
 conflict, of ravishing excitement, of hard- 
 won glory on bloody fields and with these 
 memories was the thought of this present 
 expedition, with all its uncertainty and 
 risk. Rising on the flood of the tom-tom's 
 heart-stirring pulse, sounded a chant 
 droned with bee-like monotony at first, 
 then breaking into sudden spurts of tre 
 ble glee that sent a shock of enthusiasm 
 through the nerves of the listeners. 
 
 If they who sat in the circle around him 
 
 * 54
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 thrilled to that inspiring call to arms, if 
 the very children danced with mad, sav 
 age joy, the spirit of the White Quiver 
 was stirred into a tempest. A brilliant 
 light shone in his eyes. His breath came 
 in short, explosive gasps that distended his 
 fine nostrils and set his chest heaving like 
 storm-tossed waters. He had come there 
 and taken his place in the dead, starless 
 calm of despair and then the black storm- 
 clouds had gathered and a mighty tide 
 of passion had driven them thicker and 
 faster, until the violet gleam of lightning 
 flashed and the roll of thunder sounded 
 in his soul. He strove to stem the 
 strength of it but at every fresh beat of 
 the tom-tom and every treble dart, the 
 lightning flashed more brightly and the 
 thunder shook his entire being. Out of 
 that confusion and tumult, a wild bar 
 baric song sounded, until the words ob 
 sessed him. This should be his war-song, 
 the song that he would sing over the fal 
 len bodies of his enemies. His face be 
 came cruel. He exulted in the thought 
 
 155
 
 of the torture he would inflict. One long, 
 continuous swell of sound shook the quiet 
 and wrested the jealous echoes from the 
 hills. The White Quiver sprang up. 
 Stripping himself of robes and ceremonial 
 shirt, he leaped with one mighty bound 
 into the open, as a wild beast freed from a 
 cage plunges into his native fastnesses. 
 With quick, light, rhythmical step, shak 
 ing his rattle and tossing his head high, 
 he began the terrible measure of the war- 
 dance. At first he was silent, then occa 
 sionally the war-cry broke from his lips. 
 His young men joined him and he began 
 the pantomime of an encounter with an 
 enemy. Words came to him and he sang 
 of the great deeds of his ancestors, of his 
 father, Clear Water and of his own meet 
 ing with the Wind-God on Chief Moun 
 tain and the recovery of the Pinto horse. 
 And all the while he danced he was 
 swayed like a reed by the terrible storm 
 that tossed him to his soul's depths. Si 
 lence fell again, still he danced. His 
 young men counted coups, then ceased,
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 yet the White Quiver never hesitated nor 
 paused. The firelight ran red as blood 
 over his half-naked body, which glistened 
 with sweat until it shone like bronze. 
 The gashes over his shoulders bled afresh 
 but he seemed unconscious of pain. The 
 night was growing old when, suddenly 
 there burst from him, in tones as deep- 
 chested as the bellow of a bull, the burden 
 of his war-song: 
 
 "For your sake, O ! Daughter of my Chief, 
 
 "I seek the red war-path, 
 
 "I seek the red war-path, 
 "Ye! Ho! Ye! Ho-O-O-O, 
 "For your sake, O! White Mist of the 
 Dawn!" 
 
 The awful, brazen melody, which was 
 at once a song and a war-cry, died, and as 
 the last echo of it was hushed in the re 
 motest sanctuary of the hills, a change 
 came over the earth and sky. The dark 
 ness trembled, the stars shivered, a fresh- 
 smelling wind sprang up bearing odors 
 of awakening woods, and a cold, faint 
 
 157
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 light pulsed across the heavens. The fire 
 burned low and its gilt splendor waned 
 in the increasing dawn. Out of the val 
 leys and the shady, damp places of the 
 mountains, troops of mist-shapes floated 
 like hurrying ghosts seeking shelter from 
 the light of day. 
 
 The White Quiver ceased his dance and 
 stood still as a figure of stone, watching 
 the white phantoms drift higher and 
 higher, then melt into air, and there came 
 to him so vividly that it seemed not the 
 dream of a dream but reality, the picture 
 of her as he had last seen her, standing 
 alone, wrapped in snowy robes, vanishing 
 in the blue distance as those mist-shapes 
 were even then dissolving before his eyes ; 
 as he had beheld her in his Dream for 
 Power in the Wilderness. 
 
 Was there some fatal symbol in this? 
 
 "For your sake, O! White Mist of the 
 Dawnl" he whispered, but even as he 
 watched, the sun shot gold arrows of light 
 into the ghostly legions and they trembled 
 and were gone. The mountain tops
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 flushed rose, kindled and blazed as with 
 a mighty conflagration. At that signal a 
 chorusing of birds began, the shadows 
 shrank into the nether world of darkness 
 and it was day. 
 
 The White Quiver armed himself with 
 spear, bow, arrow, war-club and knife. 
 He carried his shield of buffalo hide, and 
 across his shoulders swung the pure-white 
 quiver which was his emblem in peace 
 and in war. The ponies were saddled, 
 the braves leaped into place and they were 
 off, speeding towards the unknown. 
 
 Out of the clear distance, where a 
 plume of dust curled, came the snatch of 
 a resonant, deep song. 
 
 "For your sake, O! Daughter of my 
 Chief!" 
 
 Then even that faint note was heard no 
 more. 
 
 'i 59
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE White Quiver had told no 
 one, not even his eight braves, 
 whither he was going. From 
 earliest childhood he had listened to the 
 stories related by old warriors of expedi 
 tions that traveled toward the sunset until 
 the Great Salt Water barred the way, or 
 southward to the land of the pueblos, and 
 farther yet where seas of yellow sand quiv 
 ered beneath skies of burning blue. He 
 had plied them with questions, drunk in 
 each description of landmarks and re 
 solved some day to be as his fathers had 
 been before him, a brave among braves, 
 a seeker after strange, new experiences and 
 above all else a great horseman and 
 greater warrior. 
 
 His childhood play had been such ex 
 peditions in miniature. On his pony he 
 had ventured beyond his fellows into dark 
 1 60
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 his morning plunge in a neighboring 
 stream. They were a goodly look 
 ing group of young fellows. Their 
 ponies were picketed near by, cropping 
 the sparse, dry buffalo grass. The 
 White Quiver lay very still and waited. 
 He was anxious to find out the num 
 ber of fighting men in the party, 
 then if possible to descend upon them, 
 take what scalps he might and cap 
 ture the horses. Whether this could be 
 done or not, he was determined to know 
 who was in each tipi, for the Dawn Mist 
 might be held prisoner by this very party 
 of Kootenais. He had looked critically 
 at the ponies but he saw none that resem 
 bled the lost Pinto horse. 
 
 There was no sign of camp-breaking so 
 the White Quiver decided to watch 
 through the day and make no attack. 
 Time passed very slowly. He saw the 
 young men lying in the sun gambling, a 
 few children and dogs playing, and 
 women busied in many ways. Nothing 
 happened and the inactivity maddened 
 163
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 him. He wanted to yell to them, to shout 
 defiance into their startled ears and see 
 them scamper like hunted rabbits, but he 
 was used to waiting and he held his peace. 
 He remained until night came, until the 
 evening revelry was over and the red coals 
 of the camp-fire died, then in the dark 
 ness and the silence he crept down to the 
 camp. A dog barked and a chorus took 
 up the infernal noise. He hid himself 
 and lay low. A head was thrust out of 
 one of the lodges and subdued voices 
 spoke together, then the head was with 
 drawn and silence fell once more. The 
 White Quiver slipped out into the open 
 and made his way to the first lodge. By 
 the dull, red light of the embers still glow 
 ing in the center of the tipi, he could dis 
 tinguish the prostrate forms of men and 
 women but they were the same forms he 
 had seen and identified by daylight. 
 From one to the other he passed until he 
 came to the last lodge. Each had mocked 
 him with disappointment. Into this final 
 dwelling of hope he peered eagerly, anx- 
 164
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 iously. The last spark of fire had gone 
 out and he could see nothing. He lay 
 perfectly still and waited for the first ten 
 der light of the young day, knowing that 
 at any moment he might be discovered 
 and discovery there meant probable death. 
 When little streaks of light, running 
 quicksilver-like through the dark, had 
 unified into one luminous thrill of day, he 
 looked around the circle of the last lodge. 
 As his eyes pierced each couch and he saw 
 that she was not there, a savage, brute rage 
 possessed him. He started back less cau 
 tiously than he had come, making a dash 
 to cut the picketed horses loose, then for 
 the pine-grown hill where he had lain 
 from sunrise to sunset. Once more the 
 accursed curs, in hideous, discordant 
 yelps and barks, proclaimed the presence 
 of an enemy and the startled camp espied 
 him just as he entered the forest. As he 
 plunged on, crashing and tearing through 
 the bushes, he heard shouts of alarm and 
 the clamor of preparation for pursuit. 
 His own people were not far distant and
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 he made towards them at full speed, call 
 ing aloud that the enemy was in arms and 
 they must make ready to defend them 
 selves. 
 
 When he reached them they were al 
 ready mounted and his horse stood wait 
 ing for him. At the same time he heard 
 the hoof-beats of the on-coming foe and he 
 knew that they were at hand. He spoke 
 rapidly to his young men. He had 
 watched the camp and entered every lodge 
 so he knew the Kootenais' strength to a 
 man. He divided his small force into 
 three bands. One, composed of four men, 
 should advance to the right, three of his 
 number should advance to the left, while 
 he, with Three Moons, a brave who was 
 next in rank to himself, went straight 
 ahead. Noiselessly as snakes they crept, 
 crouching low in the underbrush, until 
 the two parties going to the right and left 
 were lost to sight and hearing. The 
 White Quiver and Three Moons crawled 
 towards the open. They could hear 
 voices and the clatter of hoofs as the 
 1 66
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Kootenais skirted the wood searching for 
 them. The White Quiver, who under 
 stood the language, having learned it in 
 his youth from one of his father's wives, 
 caught fragments of their speech and 
 from this he gleaned that they were uncer 
 tain how to proceed. He distinguished 
 but two voices and he knew the time to 
 strike was come. Leaping in his saddle, 
 followed by his one warrior, he dashed for 
 ward, yelling the war-cry in loud, heart- 
 stilling tones. Simultaneously, the par 
 ties posted at either extreme rushed down 
 like whirlwinds on the camp. 
 
 The two Kootenai scouts were taken un 
 awares. An arrow from the White Quiv 
 er's bow felled the pony of one, who 
 sprang to the ground and tried to escape. 
 A second arrow pierced him between the 
 shoulders, whereupon the White Quiver 
 jumped from his horse and struck the fal 
 len enemy in the open, though by this 
 time arrows were raining about him. 
 The wounded man rose suddenly and 
 lunged at the White Quiver with his war-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 club, but he was weak from the shock of 
 his wound, his hand was unsteady and his 
 blow fell wildly on the air. The White 
 Quiver stabbed him to the heart and took 
 his scalp. Then he noted how Three 
 Moons was beset by two Kootenais and 
 at the same time a little battle was raging 
 in the camp. He went to the rescue of 
 Three Moons and took a second scalp, 
 again striking the fallen foe. The other 
 Kootenais escaped. 
 
 The White Quiver and Three Moons 
 then whirled down into the camp where 
 a fierce, hand-to-hand fight was raging. 
 Their presence decided the issue and put 
 the remaining enemies to flight. The 
 Piegans captured the ponies which were 
 poor and lean from hard riding and hur 
 ried away from the scene of bloodshed, 
 leaving stark corpses behind them. 
 
 The White Quiver had executed his 
 first deed of generalship as a leader, and 
 yet he was gnawed by consuming disap 
 pointment. He had failed utterly to 
 learn one word of her. 
 1 68
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 As he bent over the wounded Kootenais 
 or pursued them to the death, he had said: 
 
 "Tell me which of your tribe captured 
 the Dawn Mist, Chief Eagle Plume's 
 daughter, and where she is hidden and I 
 will spare you!" 
 
 One protested ignorance, another was 
 stubbornly silent and a third mocked him, 
 then in a white-hot passion he stopped 
 their breath with death, slaying right and 
 left like a blood-drunk demon to avenge 
 her wrongs. 
 
 He had hunted and killed beasts before 
 but never men ; he had known the lust of 
 the hunter as he stalks, then brings to 
 earth, his prey, and now he felt a more 
 savage and awful exultation as he saw the 
 human quarry fall beneath his deadly aim. 
 He had no remorse, no lingering sense 
 of mercy. Something new and terrible 
 came to life in him out of that red har 
 vest of death. 
 
 But as he rode away with his eight 
 braves, one of whom was slightly 
 wounded, the savage joy he had felt in 
 169
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the heat of battle died, and he was chilled 
 and seared. Why, he could not tell. 
 Moreover, his men were silent and down 
 cast and had the mien of vanquished, 
 rather than victorious warriors. 
 
 The bony, spavined horses clattered on 
 with them and seemed a burden, not a 
 prize. 
 
 They headed straight for the darkly- 
 purple mountains that glittered with sil 
 ver and buried their sharp crests in the 
 white bosoms of caressing clouds. 
 
 The young men allowed their leader 
 to ride ahead, gloomily occupied with 
 his own thoughts, while they spoke to 
 gether in whispers. 
 
 "Whither is he taking us?" one asked. 
 
 "To the Kootenai country. He has 
 gone mad." 
 
 "If he keeps to the prairie we are safe 
 but the mountains are full of evil spirits," 
 said a third. 
 
 "And if we escape the spirits we shall 
 be meat for the Kootenais' arrows. Nine 
 men in the enemy's country are nothing." 
 170
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 So they spoke together, breeding the 
 spirit of discontent. 
 
 The mountains loomed lofty and awe 
 somely beautiful. Bands of sunlight 
 wound around their vast steeps and re 
 vealed ravine and glacier, darkling for 
 ests and an occasional far-flung water 
 fall. And above them hung spirit-shapes 
 of cloud, folding white wings tenderly 
 about their dreaming lords. Overhead 
 and around the mighty circle of the 
 world, the sky throbbed flawless blue and 
 beneath their feet the green-gold sea of 
 the prairie flowed in gentle swells and 
 rolling billows. 
 
 Toward evening they were lifted up by 
 the low hills that clamored, as children, 
 about the parent-mountains' feet, and 
 finding a pleasant stream, pasture for the 
 ponies and shelter for themselves, the 
 White Quiver gave the order to halt for 
 the night. 
 
 They ate of their pemmican and jerked 
 buffalo meat in silence while the chill 
 of the mountains crept down from ice- 
 171
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 fields and the night world awakened with 
 subtle whisperings. 
 
 Next morning they found that the cap 
 tured horses had escaped. Some of the 
 young men wished to start out and try 
 to re-capture them, but the White Quiver 
 would not listen to such a plan; undoubt 
 edly the animals had turned back and 
 made straight for the prairie, and noth 
 ing less than a clue that the Dawn Mist 
 was behind them, could change his 
 course. 
 
 The brows of the braves were dark. 
 Wolf Tail, the young man who had re 
 ceived the wound in the fight, seemed 
 more uneasy than his companions. He 
 maintained a long, unbroken silence, de 
 clined food and appeared to be ill. At 
 length he sought his leader and spoke 
 with him alone, avoiding the keen chal 
 lenge of his eyes. 
 
 "While I slept I dreamed a strong 
 
 dream. It was a bad dream. We were 
 
 in a bare country. There were many 
 
 rocks and dead trees. There were dark 
 
 172
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 waters among the rocks and the trees. 
 Ky-O, the great grizzly, came out of his 
 lair in the rocks and devoured us. I saw 
 my own body bleed and the bodies of 
 all of us bleed. You know that is an evil 
 dream. I will go no farther. I warn 
 you if you go you will be slain or over 
 taken with bad luck." 
 
 The White Quiver answered: 
 
 "Go back and tell the people Wolf Tail 
 was afraid. I want no squaw-hearted 
 coward with me!" 
 
 Sullenly Wolf Tail made ready, but be 
 fore he left he related his bad dream to 
 every one of his fellows. 
 
 "I believe the Chief is heading 
 straight for the Walled-in lakes where 
 there are many lodges of Su-ye-tup-pi, 
 the Under-Water people and the 
 haunted forest, where unhappy spirits 
 cry in the night wind," said Wolf Tail. 
 "I have never trembled before an enemy. 
 I took two scalps in our fight with the 
 Kootenais and I was first to strike three 
 different times, but I will listen to the 
 
 173
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Dream and no madman shall lead me 
 into the belly of Ky-O." 
 
 Then, mounting his buckskin pony, he 
 turned back towards the warm, amber 
 prairie that shone almost as bright as the 
 sun's self in the flood of morning light. 
 The gaze of all save the White Quiver fol 
 lowed him longingly as he wound in and 
 out among little parks of pine and cot- 
 tonwood to re-appear like a dark and 
 ever lessening flaw in the sunny distance. 
 
 The remaining seven were heavy of 
 heart. Slowly they obeyed the Chief's 
 sharp command to move forward. He, 
 too, was gloomy and silent All of his 
 old-time buoyancy was gone. He would 
 neither wrestle nor race nor gamble nor 
 tell stories by the camp-fire. 
 
 As they advanced they fell under a sin 
 ister spell which all felt, yet none could 
 comprehend. At intervals the White 
 Quiver shouted his war-song: 
 
 "For your sake, O I daughter of my Chief ! 
 Ye! Hoi Ye! Ho! O-o-ol"
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 but it was more like an angry challenge 
 than a song. 
 
 They were traveling a wildly beauti 
 ful country, undisturbed by mortal tread 
 and subtle with suggestions of mystery. 
 New legions of nobly carven peaks 
 flashed their silver signals out of the blue 
 and presently the heaven-colored waters 
 of a vast lake gleamed and darkened 
 among steep, rugged shores. The moun 
 tains crowded each other about the trail 
 ing garment of the lake as though each 
 would jealously claim her for his own, 
 while over their shimmering ice-helms, 
 soft gray clouds with tinsel fringes 
 hovered low. From this mastering sub 
 limity the seven braves freed themselves 
 to recall Wolf Tail's dream. Had he 
 not spoken of the dark waters of a great 
 Walled-in lake and a spirit-haunted for 
 est on its shores? They had all heard 
 of that spirit-land since childhood and 
 were afraid. 
 
 The day's march came to an end at the 
 shore. The White Quiver left them 
 
 175
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 to seek an isolated spot where he might 
 commune in solitude with the magnifi 
 cent spectacle. The magic of the spot 
 was upon him. He stood on a pinnacle 
 of rock, and from this pedestal he over 
 looked the long, slender, serpentining 
 lake that wound in and out among naked, 
 abysmal cliffs and wooded shores, swung 
 gently around little rocky islands swim 
 ming in its blue, and hid illusively be 
 hind the towering horde of mountains. 
 Motionless and ecstatic, he watched the 
 flaming sun drop low, its ruddy beams 
 transmuting the blue waters into pools 
 of light, illuminating the mountains 
 until they flashed, jewel-bright and ig 
 niting the cloud-banners that burned 
 like living flames. He gazed in awe at 
 the splendor of the scene. Then a dim 
 purple shadow dropped from the sky. 
 The fire brands cooled and mellowed into 
 pale yellow and rose and the great, lu 
 minous evening star trembled and shone 
 in the west. And all the while the lake 
 was changing. A mystical shade of vio-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 let stole over the waters and the shores, 
 relieved by cold, blue lights and splashes 
 of colorless silver. An interval of dark 
 ness came, then the moon rose, flooding 
 the heavens, the waters, the mountains 
 and the woods with pearly radiance. A 
 more ephemeral day dawned, replete with 
 subtle beauty, and pale mists, like liber 
 ated ghosts, drifted out of their hiding- 
 places and revelled with the night. 
 
 Again the White Quiver almost per 
 suaded himself that out of these fleeting 
 vapors the likeness of the Dawn Mist 
 shaped itself, beckoning to him across the 
 infinite, gazing down on him with eyes 
 that were stars. He cried aloud with 
 yearning, and was startled into conscious 
 ness by the echoing chorus that flung 
 back his own voice from a hundred vocal 
 heights. 
 
 The young men seated around the camp 
 fire heard the cry and were alarmed. 
 For them the night was full of dread. 
 Whither was the untried chief leading 
 them? Was he utterly mad? They 
 177
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 would keep faith and fight under him to 
 the death as they had sworn, if the chance 
 were fair and the enemy a human foe, 
 but this was self-destruction and con 
 trary to the divine revelation of dreams. 
 And that weirdly penetrating cry? Was 
 it from the throat of man or beast or 
 night-bird, from the Su-ye-tup-pi of the 
 lakes or the ghosts of the haunted forest? 
 They argued and justified themselves al 
 most to the point of mutiny, and that 
 night another one of their number had 
 an evil dream and turned back with the 
 break of day. 
 
 The White Quiver felt the growing un 
 rest of his braves and he knew that the 
 crisis would come soon. A sinister in 
 fluence possessed them. Their course 
 lay along the rugged, winding shores of 
 the lake, toward its head which was pil 
 lowed on the lap of the mountains. 
 
 The morning wind had billowed up 
 flocks of white-breasted clouds that flew 
 bird-like across the sky and as if in sport 
 at intervals hid the gold eye of the sun.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 And he, stretching out long, space-span- 
 ning shafts, rode down and trod the 
 water with golden footsteps, drawing up 
 to him ghostly vapors in passionate play. 
 The light was ever changing, ever shift 
 ing. When the clouds prevailed, a gray 
 shadow chilled the lake, dulled the spark 
 ling silver snow of the peaks with lifeless 
 pallor and robed the woods with purple; 
 but when the sunlight, released, poured 
 out its glory, all the brilliant colors leapt 
 to life; the lake was resplendent with 
 deep azure, changing now and again to 
 the reflected green of the pines, and the 
 mountains disclosed fine-spun gossamer 
 falls and streams and fairy beauties of ice 
 and snow. 
 
 They came to a high, terraced wall of 
 rock which barred the way. Shrubs and 
 small trees grew on its crest and occa 
 sionally upon its steep sides. The young 
 men seized upon this obstacle and agreed 
 that it could not be crossed with ponies, 
 but the White Quiver reconnoitered this 
 barrier and bade them follow him. They 
 179
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 went afoot, the White Quiver leading, 
 next came the jaded horses and finally 
 the braves, all toiling slowly to the sum 
 mit It was a precipitous and treacher 
 ous climb and one mis-step would have 
 plunged men and beasts into the haunted 
 waters below where the Under-Water- 
 people lay waiting for human prey. The 
 ascent won, they pressed on, gaining a 
 broader view of the lake until the mighty, 
 glacier-laden tusk of Na-to-si-o-to-pa, 
 Going-to-the-Sun, burst upon them. 
 
 The White Quiver knew that the test 
 of his braves had come, for at the base of 
 that kingly mountain, along the shores of 
 the lake, was the forest of blasted pines 
 haunted by unhappy souls and held in su 
 perstitious dread by the Piegans. He, 
 himself, would have rested uneasily there 
 only a moon or two ago, but now in his 
 desperate errand he was divorced from 
 fear of man or evil spirit. He had 
 hoped to time the day's march so it would 
 take them beyond this place of awe, but 
 despite the hounding desire that urged 
 1 80
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 him on, despite his merciless demands on 
 beasts and men, fate had brought him 
 here to these specter-trees at the moth- 
 hour, the ghost- time and here they must 
 camp. 
 
 The blasted pines crawled along the 
 ground in bleached and matted masses 
 that resembled old bones and strewn 
 among them were heaps of stark and 
 naked boulders wrested from their places 
 and hurled down in the icy clutch of gla 
 cier or cataclysm. But here, also, was 
 fresh water in plenty and feed for the 
 ponies that were stumbling with fatigue. 
 
 "Here is water and grass. Here we 
 will camp!" the White Quiver com 
 manded. 
 
 He felt the clash of opposing wills 
 challenge him. There was a moment of 
 uncertainty, each waiting to see what 
 the other would do, then no one having 
 the courage to take the initiative, the 
 young men dismounted from their ponies 
 and obeyed. 
 
 A quarrelsome, gusty wind scolded 
 181,
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 among the pines and set the waters of the 
 lake into commotion. Dark masses of 
 clouds loomed ominously in the sky and 
 the evening grew cold. After dark the 
 wind veered to the north, steadied and 
 blew in a strong, sweeping tide, that 
 sounded like the roar of an angry surf. 
 Then the ghost trees found tongue. 
 They mourned and wailed in low, sob 
 bing anguish, or piped in a weird, shrill 
 treble, screeching defiantly to the sight 
 less night. And now and again, the fit 
 ful firelight fell across them and showed 
 them writhing in torment on the ground. 
 The rain beat down and harried the 
 bright beacon of the fire, the wind-tide 
 boomed ominously and the terrified 
 watchers worked and struggled to keep 
 the feeble blaze alive. No one thought 
 of sleep. With that infernal ghost-moan 
 shrilling and echoing in their ears, they 
 clung to each other and to the fire as 
 drowning men to a raft. 
 
 When, finally, the gray light of day 
 came and the wind abated, the braves ap- 
 182
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 preached the White Quiver. Three 
 Moons addressed him: 
 
 "Kyi! Chief, we have followed you," 
 he said. "We have obeyed you. We 
 came with you to go on the war-path. 
 We are not afraid to fight. You know 
 that. But you are taking us into the Un 
 known. This land is haunted, it is 
 not of earth. In the lake are Under- 
 Water persons. You know a woman 
 was stolen here by the beavers long ago. 
 On the shore are the ghost trees and Ky-O, 
 the grizzly bear. Ahead are the Kooten- 
 ais. We will go no farther. Turn back 
 with us, Chief. This is madness." 
 
 The White Quiver answered: 
 
 "Go! All of youl You are shaped 
 like men but in your breasts are the hearts 
 of women. You are traitors. You arc 
 cowards. I do not need you. Tell Eagle 
 Plume I shall go on." 
 
 So they left him and he, unbaffled, set 
 his face toward the sunset, his heart on 
 the Dawn Mist and pressed ahead, 
 alone. 
 
 183
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE White Quiver felt singularly 
 light-hearted and free and his 
 spirits rose like birds loosed from 
 a snare, now that the soul-imprisoning 
 influence of his renegade braves was gone 
 and he found himself alone in this land of 
 sublime mystery. It was early in the 
 morning when the last echo of departing 
 hoof-beats was hushed in perfect quiet. 
 A golden silence lay upon the world. 
 The clouds had rolled away and the wind 
 that had lashed them, died in the dawn- 
 calm. 
 
 Immediately before him, barring the 
 farther vistas with its mighty bulk, Go- 
 ing-to-the-Sun, with earth-abandoning 
 uplift, tossed its horned front into the 
 blue. Like the tidal wave of a vast, 
 primordial sea arrested in its upheaval, it 
 stood, its waters changed to stone, its 
 184
 
 "IMMEDIATELY BEFORE HIM, BARRIXG THE FARTHER VISTAS WITH ITS 
 
 MIGHTY Iin.K, GOIXG-TO-THE-SUX, WITH EARTH-ABAXDOXIXO 
 
 UPLIFT, TOSSED ITS IIORXED FROXT INTO THE BLUE."
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 white foam congealed into ice. Its 
 rugged sides, scarred and riven by ice 
 floe and deluge, still held fields of perpet 
 ual snow, and near its crest sparkled a 
 glacier, like the profile of a human face. 
 Upon the great tusk that marked its final 
 altitude were carven shapes, heroic eagles, 
 strangely impressive figures that had 
 perched and watched and waited through 
 the aeons, unruffled by the bellowing tem 
 pest, oblivious to the intimate shock of 
 lightning-brand and thunder-bolt. 
 
 The White Quiver looked at them in 
 awe. Were they a brood of that dread 
 bird of the skies, the flashing of whose 
 eyes was the lightning, and the rushing of 
 whose mighty wings set the thunder peal 
 ing? As he gazed in worshipful admira 
 tion, watching the light and shade move 
 in ever-changing pictures over the moun 
 tain and the motionless stone eagles 
 perched on its highest ascents, it seemed 
 to beckon to him and say: 
 
 "Come with me above the earth for I 
 am Going-to-the-Sun!"
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The idea was the more fascinating be 
 cause, as he measured the sharp-cut angles 
 with his eye and noted the sheer cliffs near 
 the summit, it appeared that no mortal 
 could find foothold there. And the 
 White Quiver knew that if he lived to re 
 turn, some day he would answer the 
 mountain's call. He believed that this 
 was a spot favored by the Sun, for had he 
 not seen the earliest rays leap straight to 
 the peak and kiss its cold brow until it 
 flushed as with life? Perhaps if one were 
 strong hearted enough to dare the ascent, 
 upon those hallowed altitudes, on that 
 earthly temple of the Great Mystery, He, 
 the Sun, would vouchsafe some revelation. 
 If all else should fail, if he should return 
 from the land of the enemy empty of heart 
 and hand, he would then make the pil 
 grimage and answer the dumb challenge 
 of Going-to-the-Sun. 
 
 He went on his way, the mountain seem 
 ing to move with him, presenting fresh 
 aspects as he advanced. Now an enor 
 mous stone amphitheater opened before 
 1 86
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 him. In this lay a second glacier, larger 
 than the first, from which seven fine-spun 
 cascades, churned into lacy-meshed foam, 
 dropped hundreds of feet into the lake. 
 
 As he issued from behind the barrier 
 of the mountain a scene burst upon him 
 such as few men ever see. A long, nar 
 row stream of blue with an occasional sil 
 ver glint, blue more intense than the me 
 tallic flash of the dragonfly or the blue 
 bird's wing or the azure arch of the mid 
 day sky; on either side, tremendous 
 mountains which rose out of the blue be 
 low and were lost in the blue above where 
 white clouds hid the marriage of earth 
 and heaven; and over all, subduing the 
 green of forests on the mountain-sides, 
 neutralizing the garish contrasts of rock 
 and snow and verdure, a diaphanous, pur 
 ple shade like the shadow of unseen 
 wings. Following that channel in its 
 windings among the abysmal gorge-rent 
 cliffs it led to a shining pageant. The 
 darkly somber mountains parted as open 
 gates, and far, far away as the soul's ideal,
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 wrought in a dazzle of mellow light, 
 shone a celestial spirit-land. From the 
 cloud-pictured heaven streamed a halo 
 of all-suffusing radiance, transfiguring 
 the sky, the earth and the waters. And 
 dominating the panorama, a slender, soli 
 tary peak, earth's finger, shining also like 
 a spirit shape, pointed to the Sun. 
 
 The White Quiver rode as one who 
 beheld a vision. It seemed to him as 
 though the Great Spirit had dissolved the 
 curtains of space and revealed the im 
 mortal dwelling of spotless souls. The 
 thrall of sublimely awful beauty bore 
 him above the dark reality of the pines 
 along the trail, beyond the blue waters 
 that shimmered away in sun-dipped dis 
 tances, to where the lone peak pointed 
 to the skies. The hallowed illumination 
 penetrated at once the distance and the 
 flesh, shining on his own soul, and for 
 one fleeting moment he felt a closer kin 
 ship with the Great Mystery. Yet even 
 in this climax of ecstasy, within his se 
 cret heart lingered the dumb, unknow- 
 188
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ing fear that a young child feels in the 
 dark. In that solitude absolute, he was 
 conscious of a Presence which he could 
 not see, nor hear, nor understand, but 
 which was, nevertheless, as inevitable and 
 all-pervading as the mystic, purple es 
 sence on the mountains and the lake. 
 
 In his state of exaltation he did not 
 notice that his pony stumbled with fa 
 tigue, until the earth-reality came to him 
 with the sobering presence of cool, sweet- 
 smelling forests, breathing balsam odors 
 of pine and flaming with splashes of hot, 
 autumnal color. Then he noted with 
 poignant remorse that the poor beast's 
 breath came in deep, guttural gasps; 
 bloody froth showed in his flaring nos 
 trils, his tongue hung limp and his eyes 
 rolled. The White Quiver dismounted, 
 rested the belabored horse and watered 
 him in a glacial stream, and when at last 
 he continued on his way, it was afoot, his 
 jaded and faithful mount following pa 
 tiently at his heels. 
 
 The forest was a pleasant, calming 
 1 80
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 place. The pines and larch and occa 
 sional gilt clusters of cottonwood and 
 tremulous asp, formed thick woods. 
 The damp mold from which green- 
 tongued ferns darted, silenced every ob 
 trusive sound, so the low, sweet fluting 
 of the evening wind, the wild lilt of birds, 
 the resonant drumming of the wood 
 pecker and the reedy call of insects 
 seemed strangely loud and clear. 
 
 When the sun had sunk low in the 
 heavens and only a delicate primrose 
 light suffused the sky, the White Quiver 
 emerged from the forest into a little open 
 glade, surrounded by trees and over 
 grown with deep, lush grass. Immedi 
 ately ahead, lifting its perfect cone 
 against the sky was the slender peak, lu 
 minous as though created of gossamer 
 stuff through which the sunset shone. 
 
 Here the White Quiver kindled his 
 camp-fire. He turned his pony loose in 
 the meadow to feed and to rest and he 
 lay down beneath the sheltering trees. 
 
 At dawn he was up and after his liba- 
 190
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 tion in cold water, hurried on with the 
 swiftness of one pursued. The way lay 
 upward over rocky and difficult country 
 and the White Quiver knew he was 
 approaching the "Backbone of the 
 World." He looked in all directions 
 for a notch in the mountains, with a lake 
 beneath which should mark the pass 
 across the range. Once more he urged 
 the pony onward, only to reach more for 
 bidding altitudes where the slide-rock 
 slipped and moved and rattled down ter 
 rible distances beneath the horse's mo 
 lesting tread. At last the harsh, sobbing 
 breath of the animal grew quicker and 
 a deep groan rumbled from his very en 
 trails. His eyes rolled, his body twitched 
 and he fell headlong, dead. 
 
 The White Quiver mourned for him 
 as a departed friend, silently praying for 
 the peace of his faithful spirit, then he 
 left the body on the rocky slide to ravag 
 ing coyotes and birds of prey. His last 
 living companion was gone. There 
 came to him for the first time an over- 
 191
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 whelming sense of isolation and com 
 plete detachment from the world. Even 
 his friends, the trees, no longer whis 
 pered in the vocal wind. The stunted, 
 misshapen, matted high-altitude growths 
 were goblin shapes, weird, unearthly 
 products of snow-drift and gale. The 
 wind grew cold and sang shrill runes as 
 it whirled amid the cairns and scattered 
 untimely Winter in its wake. With 
 magical call it summoned its legions, the 
 clouds, who followed obedient, sheathing 
 in their quivers white arrows of snow. 
 
 This was a world of god-trodden alti 
 tudes, with man left out of the reckoning 
 and elemental forces imbued with per 
 sonality holding unbridled sway; thrt 
 huge, heroic home of demi-gods of which 
 his mother had told him in the long ago 
 by camp-fires whose ashes had scattered 
 twenty winters before. 
 
 Ahead of him, stretching out long, 
 white fingers of ice among the dark set 
 ting of stone, lay a glacier of immense 
 size. Castellated rocks of burnt rose 
 192
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and green, the color of the sea, reared 
 magnificent edifices. Farther on the 
 formation changed again and showed the 
 grind and polish of moving ice-bodies. 
 He stooped to look at some pictured 
 rocks which bore delicate, lacy patterns 
 graven in blue and red on surfaces of 
 sand color. Strange images of fishes, 
 seaweed and deep-sea life were traced 
 as by a master-artist's hand on the shapely 
 polished stones, and vast heaps of them 
 were scattered everywhere. Across glit 
 tering distances he saw the silver flood 
 of a mighty waterfall and the subdued 
 note of its tremendous music murmured 
 in his ears. Close by him thin streams 
 trickled downward, and near them grew 
 curiously unfamiliar plants and flowers. 
 Beyond was a gigantic moraine. The 
 White Quiver climbed its steep ascent, 
 often stumbling and nearly losing his 
 foothold as the soft, spongy mass crum 
 bled and gave way beneath his weight. 
 When he gained the summit a vast and 
 dazzling ice-world opened before him, 
 193
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 extending unmeasured miles. Up out 
 of the frozen floe ; dark sweep of 
 mountains thrust their tips, like arrow 
 heads. The white surface of the glacier 
 was crinkled and crumpled with frozen 
 ripples, rent to its very heart by stupen 
 dous crevasses which showed brilliantly 
 blue or green as they cut into the 
 bosom of the ice. Clean-drilled, round 
 holes sank to great depths and each 
 was a fairy palace of crystalline beauty, 
 made more ephemerally lovely by 
 sparkling mists from little falls. Over 
 head the sky glowed a deeper blue, 
 the surrounding rocks seemed darker and 
 sterner in contrast with the white ice, and 
 the sun's rays were reflected with intense, 
 burnished brilliance by every crystal in 
 that immeasurable accumulation of the 
 aeons. 
 
 It was an awe-inspiring spectacle. 
 
 While the White Quiver stood watch 
 ing, a terrible roar sounded like thun 
 der through the stillness and a huge mass 
 of ice crashed down in a mighty ava-
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 lanche from a distant hanging wall of 
 the glacier. The loud music of plung 
 ing waterfalls and the lesser gurgling 
 lilt of draining streams was punctuated 
 by the crack and boom of shifting ice. 
 The White Quiver now got his bearings. 
 He was on the rim of the storied ice- 
 world of which the old men were wont 
 to tell. He had wandered southerly out 
 of his course. He looked across the 
 vast, frozen flood with its stilled whirl 
 pools and ripples, its deathly crevasses 
 and treacherous, snow-masked surface, 
 and decided to cross a corner of it, mak 
 ing direct for a high mountain whence 
 he could command a view of the range 
 and the country at its base. Accord 
 ingly, he descended from the moraine, 
 gained the wet, stream-furrowed surface 
 of the glacier and forged swiftly ahead. 
 The footing was insecure and dangerous, 
 for the ice had rotted in places under 
 the summer sun and the reflected heat 
 radiated by the solid rock around the 
 edges. Again and again he found himself 
 195
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 almost surrounded and cut off by gaping 
 declivities and he sank ankle-deep in 
 snowy slush. The sun beat down very 
 warm, the sky pulsed and deepened into 
 royal blue, the ice flashed in jeweled 
 splendor and rainbows bridled the tum 
 bling waterfalls. 
 
 The White Quiver became dazzled 
 and snow-blind until he scarcely saw. 
 
 Suddenly something gave away under 
 him and he fell and struck and knew no 
 more. . . . 
 
 When he opened his eyes it was upon 
 the blue-lit depths of an ice chamber, 
 where the walls showed azure like the 
 noon sky which had just now glowed 
 above him. He was numb with cold but 
 he struggled to his feet. Looking up 
 ward he could see a streak of open day 
 at no great distance over him. He be 
 gan to chip out steps in the ice walls with 
 the knife he carried at his side. It was 
 slow, hard work but he knew if he could 
 fashion such a crude stair extending up 
 ward to a shelf or ridge twice his height 
 196
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 above him, he could gain the surface be 
 fore the death-chill stilled his efforts. 
 He discarded his pack and put his whole 
 strength to the task. The ice was hard, 
 but his muscle-driven blows began to 
 make an impression. The exercise, too, 
 sent the sluggish, half-congealed blood 
 spurting with new vigor through his 
 veins. Slowly, painfully, he hewed his 
 way to the shelf and he felt the warm 
 promise of sun-lit air envelop him. It 
 was more difficult to work on up to the 
 surface from this point, for he had less 
 footing than on the ice-floor at the bot 
 tom of the crevasse. 
 
 At length he emerged, half-frozen, ex 
 hausted and dazed. The falls and 
 streams were making their weird music, 
 the glacier lay calm and placid as death, 
 but the sun had travelled far and mel 
 lowed towards his setting, and long, in 
 tensely blue shadows flung themselves 
 over the pale ice. He forced himself on 
 until darkness came and the young moon 
 shone on the slumbering glacier, touch- 
 197
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ing it with ghostly beauty. If, in the 
 warm, vivid light of day it had looked 
 like death, how like it did it seem now, 
 blue-white, rigid and cold by the vapory 
 suggestion of the moon. The dead of the 
 aeons it was and is, a shrouded scion of 
 the ice-age haunting the heights that gave 
 it birth. 
 
 The White Quiver set foot upon firm 
 ground with a feeling of relief and he 
 slept in a shelter of rocks until the sun 
 quickened him to action. 
 
 He hurried over smooth rock-floors 
 and vast flights of natural steps, like 
 the stairways of Assyrian palaces; he 
 threaded his way amongst giant boulders, 
 passed onward and downward through 
 pleasant woods scattered over eminences 
 whence across a vapory sea of haze he 
 could distinguish Going-to-the-Sun and 
 its lesser mountain-brothers shining in 
 the light of the new day. A silver 
 stream wound its irregular way among 
 green shores all dipped and dimmed and 
 made one with the blue shade of heaven 
 198
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 by the haze that rose to meet the bending 
 sky. And between those two flowing 
 seas of azure, the one above, the other 
 far below, rising out of the winding 
 water were shining shapes of mist. They 
 floated low, sailing slowly on vapory 
 wings, through the calm air far below the 
 hillside where the White Quiver stood 
 watching. . . . 
 
 As he went down into the valley he 
 sang loudly, insistently, the burden of his 
 war-song: 
 
 "For your sake, O! Daughter of my 
 Chief," and the mountains took up the 
 lay and passed it on until a shrilling 
 chorus flung it upward, towards the sky. 
 
 When the White Quiver reached the 
 little, pine-grown basin he knew he had 
 found himself. Before him lay a beau 
 tiful lake. Two peaks showing marvel 
 ous colors soared above it, and these 
 mountains were connected by a notch 
 which he knew was the pass. 
 
 The moist, sweet air of morning filled 
 him with physical exhilaration. He 
 199
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 plunged into the icy waters of the lake, 
 swimming far out into its glassy depths 
 and shattering its perfect reflections with 
 ripples born of his broad strokes. All 
 about him water ouzels were dipping 
 and flitting with a plaintive, sweet note, 
 then fluttering their quiet-hued feathers 
 that shone with sparkling drops. The 
 morning sun lit one-half of the crescent- 
 shaped mountain wall across the lake 
 with gold and in that tide of light, strata 
 of dull-red, streaks of tawny yellow, 
 patches of mossy green and livid masses 
 of old ice made a gay brocade of color. 
 That mantle of the mountain side, 
 wrought of ice and rock, lichen and light, 
 was more marvelous than the handicraft 
 of the most skilled weaver of blankets or 
 painter of pottery. On the other side of 
 the crescent lay a deep, dark shadow. 
 Straight ahead was an ice field and over 
 it a slender thread of water trickling from 
 greater ice-masses above. 
 
 The chill of the morning was a tonic to 
 the White Quiver. He breakfasted on 
 200
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 a grouse which he had shot, and bearing 
 in mind the least descriptive word of the 
 old story-tellers, he started tentatively 
 along the left shore of the lake where he 
 found evidence of an old trail. The up 
 lift was sudden and steep. Objects below 
 diminished rapidly. It was a tragically 
 beautiful ascent up the very shoulders of 
 mountains that seemed as far removed 
 from the world of man as the cloud-land. 
 And as the White Quiver climbed the 
 narrow trail, his chest rising and falling 
 in a tumult of deep breaths, his thews 
 hardening like flint under the strain, and 
 the earth falling away and lessening in 
 his vision as it must beneath that of a 
 soaring bird, a shadow fell and a hollow 
 rumble reverberated through echoing 
 wastes. He paused and looked around. 
 Over the pinnacle of Going-to-the-Sun, 
 the black and tattered forerunner of a 
 cloud-host rode out into the blue. A 
 saffron yellow glow, deepening into olive- 
 green was upon the distant mountains 
 whence he had come and at intervals that 
 201
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 lessened while he watched, evil thrusts 
 of lightning darted earthward in zig-zag, 
 blinding, bright streaks. After each 
 lightning flash the thunder shook the 
 mountains to their very base and the 
 earth cowered and was afraid. Little 
 birds darted hither and thither in a panic 
 of twittering fright and a snow-white 
 mountain goat on a cliff nearby took his 
 nicely poised and precise way towards 
 shelter. A sudden and furious gale 
 swept over the mountains, shrilling evilly 
 and driving the clouds onward in a mad 
 rush. It was as though the whole brood 
 of those heroic birds that perched on Go- 
 ing-to-the-Sun had spread their storm- 
 stirring wings and taken flight. The 
 White Quiver hurried on. There was 
 no shelter or refuge on that steep and 
 naked mountain side. Each lightning 
 brand seemed to envelop him in a sheet 
 of flame and objects hitherto unseen, 
 darted out of the shadow and rushed 
 upon him in those fleeting seconds of ter 
 rible illumination. He was nearing the 
 202
 
 summit. The lake had become but a 
 tiny, inconsequential bead of jade green; 
 he had passed dead glaciers and snow 
 fields and had nearly gained the bare, un 
 protected crest, when close to him came 
 a simultaneous flash of blinding light and 
 a report that sent giant rocks toppling 
 with a hollow roar. Dazzled and half- 
 dazed he leaped out of the path of a 
 crashing boulder, bent on finding some 
 refuge from the mighty storm that was 
 master of wind and lightning and thun 
 derbolt, beneath whose awful shock 
 peaks that were married to the clouds 
 seemed impotent and weak. He had 
 gone but a few steps when he saw a black 
 gap in the solid rock wall. It was the 
 opening to a cavern. The aperture 
 was so small that he was obliged to 
 crouch down on his hands and knees to 
 enter and knowing that this might be 
 the den of some bear or other wild beast, 
 he drew his knife and held it between his 
 teeth. The sightless black of night pre 
 vailed within. He crawled forward 
 203
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 cautiously. Only the muffled echo of the 
 storm reached him there. He paused 
 and relaxed to rest and wait, when a 
 sound smote his ear that caused his heart 
 to leap. It was the regular, rhythmical 
 note of a sleeper's breathing that deep 
 ened into the guttural of a snore. What 
 was it? Who was it? Was it Ky-O, the 
 grizzly bear, or might it be, perchance, 
 some wanderer, who, like himself, had 
 taken shelter from the infernal fury of 
 the elements? He paused, hesitated, 
 then, following the direction whence the 
 sound came, crept silently as a serpent 
 until he touched something soft and 
 warm. It was not fur nor claws, but a 
 blanketed human form. His fingers ran 
 nimbly and lightly over the sleeper. 
 He felt the moccasined feet, the tex 
 ture of the buckskin shirt and leg 
 gings and he knew the man to be a Koo- 
 tenai. The fascination of his curiosity 
 was beyond control. His fingers fell 
 lightly as a breath on the features of the 
 slumbering man, who, with an oath, 
 204
 
 THE .WHITE QUIVER 
 
 sprang to his feet, demanding who was 
 there. 
 
 "An enemy! of the Piegan tribe," 
 said the White Quiver answering the 
 stranger in his own tongue. "And you?" 
 
 "A Kootenai," was the reply. 
 
 The White Quiver's blood burnt like 
 fire through his flesh. He breathed hard 
 and fast and his fingers closed tightly 
 upon his knife. There in the pall of 
 blackness, with the warring of the ele 
 ments sounding in his ears, he was face 
 to face with one of the tribe, possibly the 
 man himself, who had captured the 
 Dawn Mist. "Fall on him and slay 
 him!" his brute nature bayed out of the 
 past of a savage breed, but he knew if 
 he slew this man here and now, the se 
 cret which possibly no lips save his could 
 reveal, might be lost forever. 
 
 But the Kootenai had no such motive to 
 stay his blood-lust. 
 
 "Come out into the open," he cried, 
 "and we will fight like warriors." 
 
 They trusted each other for men of 
 205
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 honor, so they feared no foul play in 
 the dark and accordingly they made their 
 way, creeping on all fours after the man 
 ner of beasts, out into the livid light of 
 day. They faced, each gazing with 
 searching, blood-shot, squinting eyes into 
 the very soul of the other. There was a 
 curious similarity between the two. Each 
 was travel-stained and haggard; each was 
 armed with a knife, a war club, bow and 
 arrows, and each was quite alone. They 
 stood a few paces apart, the lightning in 
 tensifying the fury on their faces, reflect 
 ing its lurid darts in their anger-wid 
 ened eyes, and the thunder all but 
 deafening them with its roar. And in 
 their hearts raged a storm as fierce as 
 that which wreaked its terrible wrath 
 around them. 
 
 The White Quiver's soul blazed in a 
 conflagration that flashed with the light 
 ning, crashed with the warring thunder 
 and the lust of his vengeance drove all 
 before it in a tempest like the unfettered 
 wind. Yet even through his dominant 
 206
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 passion he felt the strangeness of the sit 
 uation. He and his deadly foe were met 
 here on the top of the great range, at the 
 dividing point between the country of 
 the sunrise and that of the sunset; they 
 were both without followers, confront 
 ing each other amidst the anger of bat 
 tling elements. 
 
 So they stood for a brief space, then 
 simultaneously both lunged. A sudden 
 blaze of light blinded the Kootenai and 
 the White Quiver, striking a mighty 
 blow, disarmed him and his knife fell 
 clattering upon the rocks. The White 
 Quiver was a younger and more agile 
 man and before the Kootenai could re 
 cover himself, he had captured the knife 
 and his enemy was at his mercy. 
 
 The Kootenai's defiant face showed no 
 emotion. He clasped his hands behind 
 him and said: 
 
 "Slay me. You have a finer kill then 
 you think. I am Spotted Horse, Head 
 Chief of the Kootenais." 
 
 The White Quiver was noble of spirit. 
 207
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 In spite of his deadly hatred for this man 
 and every one of his tribe, he felt an in 
 stinctive admiration for his fine courage. 
 Now that the foe was in his power and 
 stood waiting for that vengeance he had 
 longed with brute madness to inflict 
 upon him, his hand was nerveless and his 
 will was empty. Even as the storm was 
 passing overhead, his soul-storm was 
 passing likewise. Try as he would, he 
 could not force himself to strike the 
 proud, bared breast of the man be 
 fore him. There was a tense silence 
 which seemed very long. Suspension 
 of purpose makes sport of time, so it 
 seemed hours that they confronted each 
 other, motionless as stone images, the 
 White Quiver holding the knife 
 clenched, ready to plunge into the Koote- 
 nai's heart. Yet something stayed his 
 hand. 
 
 The spell broke. The White Quiver 
 lowered his weapon. 
 
 "I cannot kill you," he said. 
 
 The Kootenai stretched out his hand, 
 208
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 but the White Quiver drew himself up 
 haughtily and said: 
 
 "No. I cannot clasp your hand in 
 friendship. There are wrongs which a 
 warrior forgives but not such as you have 
 done me." 
 
 "Your words are mystery. Speak 
 straight." 
 
 "Your tribe has stolen the Dawn Mist, 
 my love, the daughter of our Great 
 Chief, Eagle Plume, and with her you 
 have taken the white buffalo hide and the 
 Pinto medicine pony that belonged to 
 Clear Water, my father." 
 
 "Look into my heart. You will see that 
 I do not lie. 
 
 "By the Great Mystery, by your gods 
 and mine, I swear that the Dawn Mist, 
 nor the white buffalo hide, nor the medi 
 cine Pony were taken by my people." 
 
 The White Quiver knew that Spotted 
 Horse spoke the truth. Darkness as 
 black as starless night fell on his soul; 
 his chin sank on his breast, the knife 
 dropped from his nerveless hand and 
 209
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 clattered at his feet. All had been in 
 vain. He had been following merely a 
 mist shape, such as those that haunted 
 the mountains in the dawn. His hope 
 was frozen like the glaciers and though 
 his body lived, his heart was dead. 
 
 The Kootenai's voice roused him. 
 
 "We fought like two children, I, over 
 an old quarrel of your people and mine 
 which affects neither of us," he was say 
 ing, "you, at a fancied wrong of which 
 I am not guilty. You have given me 
 my life. My heart feels warm towards 
 you and I am henceforth your brother. 
 I see the grief of your spirit and I will 
 help you to seek the Dawn Mist. I will 
 fight by your side on the war-path and 
 no one shall break our friendship." 
 
 The White Quiver laid his hand in that 
 of Spotted Horse and they smoked to 
 gether in token of everlasting amity. 
 
 Gradually the storm passed and the 
 
 two men sat down together and spoke at 
 
 length. The White Quiver told the 
 
 whole story of the disappearance of the 
 
 210
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Dawn Mist; of his oath to find her and 
 of his desertion by his own braves. 
 
 Then Spotted Horse related the 
 strange analogy of his start for the Pie- 
 gan country with the same number of 
 braves, who likewise abandoned him, one 
 by one, until he found himself alone on 
 the pass. 
 
 They reckoned by campfires that they 
 had started about the same time. In but 
 one respect did their parties differ and 
 that was in purpose. Spotted Horse was 
 after ponies, the White Quiver sought 
 only the Dawn Mist. In this they saw 
 more than a strange coincidence of events. 
 It was a preordained plan of the Great 
 Mystery and they had been as puppets in 
 His hands. 
 
 The two chiefs decided that obeying 
 the Power which had brought them to 
 gether and joined their hearts in the bond 
 of friendship, they should declare a truce 
 between their tribes until the head men 
 of each nation could meet together and 
 hold a council. Spotted Horse promised 
 
 211.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 to bring his tribe to the land of the Pie- 
 gans in the Moon of Flowers; and he and 
 the White Quiver agreed that the ren 
 dezvous should be Ne-nas-ta-ko, the 
 Chief Mountain. Spotted Horse swore 
 by the Sun that in the meantime and for 
 ever, he would spare no effort to help the 
 White Quiver find the Dawn Mist. 
 
 A great and sudden friendship sprang 
 up between the two men. Spotted 
 Horse had sympathy and admiration for 
 the young Piegan who had dared to forge 
 ahead to the gateway of his enemies' 
 country to recover his lost love. He 
 even offered to take the White Quiver to 
 his land and conduct him through every 
 lodge. 
 
 "But you will not find her there," he 
 added sorrowfully. "If she were, I 
 would deliver her into your hands." 
 
 He explained that there had been a 
 small hunting party of Kootenais in the 
 immediate neighborhood of the Piegan 
 camp at the time of the great kill of buf 
 falo and the abduction of the Dawn Mist, 
 
 212
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 but the Kootenais were weak in number, 
 dared not attack the stronger ranks of the 
 Piegans and returned with but a small 
 reward of game and no other spoils. 
 
 The clouds drifted away below the 
 peaks and the muffled roar of distant 
 thunder became fainter and less frequent. 
 The sun shone warm and bright through 
 the diamond-clear atmosphere and illu 
 minated strata-banded cliffs and moun 
 tains that bore new and brilliant colors 
 after the rain. Purple cloud-shadows 
 painted the vast lawn whose spears were 
 stately pines. The warm, moist ground 
 exhaled a wonderful fragrance, and the 
 birds, emerging from shelter filled the 
 air with a rapture of song. 
 
 Before parting, the two men stood on 
 the summit of the divide, whence they 
 could look towards the sunrise down on 
 the shimmering lake, and farther, 
 through hazy forests to bristling multi 
 tudes of peaks, dominated by the azure 
 and ivory steeps of Going-to-the-Sun, 
 and farther yet into the blue dimness of 
 213
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 greater distances. In the opposite direc 
 tion, towards the sunset, the country of 
 the Kootenais unfolded in beautiful but 
 milder vistas. There also lay a lake of 
 polished green upon whose shores white- 
 flanked mountains crouched and over 
 their ice-sheathed summits, range upon 
 range ebbed away in lessening undula 
 tions until they seemed the merest ripples 
 against the sky. 
 
 On the threshold of this mighty gate 
 way each in view of his native land, they 
 said farewell, holding in their hearts the 
 promise of the spring, the blossoming 
 of the Moon of Flowers. 
 
 214
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WINTER came suddenly with a 
 rushing of winds and a blind 
 ing swirl of snow. The sea 
 son of yellow leaves with its heavy gold- 
 drenched haze had come and gone. 
 With the first big storm, the Piegans, un 
 der Eagle Plume, had established their 
 camp and prepared for the long period of 
 cold. Old men predicted a severe win 
 ter. The bark on the trees was thick 
 and the fur of the animals heavy. Bit 
 ter blizzards drove across the prairie, 
 catching up the powder-fine snow and 
 scattering it in deadly deep drifts until the 
 whole face of the land was changed to a 
 pallid desert. After the storm, the cold 
 was intense. No wind blew, yet there 
 was a vibrant, sibilant ringing as of my 
 riads of infinitely tiny, invisible bells. 
 Not many suns had risen and set since 
 215
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the Dawn Mist disappeared, yet a great 
 change had come upon the world, for the 
 seasons are quick of action in the north. 
 She had gone with the rush of open 
 waters, the flaming of gilt and rose- 
 dipped leaves, the shimmer of amber sun 
 and the southward flight of the wild 
 geese; but now the arresting chill of win 
 ter stripped the woods of their beauty, 
 stilled the silver-tuned streams and 
 hushed the world to sleep. 
 
 Eagle Plume had made several short 
 sallies as the scouts brought false hopes, 
 and the Owl Brave had ridden off with 
 a war party towards the sunrise, but no 
 one found a trace of the Dawn Mist. 
 
 One by one the braves of the White 
 Quiver had returned, and to shield their 
 own dishonor, told tales of how he had 
 gone mad and of his folly in pressing on 
 to the Kootenai country after the warning 
 of many dreams. 
 
 "He will never return," they declared. 
 "The snow must be deep even now upon 
 his body." 
 
 216
 
 And surely their prediction seemed 
 likely enough. Over the dark and angry 
 peaks storm banners streamed, a wild car 
 nival raged and the open clouds poured 
 down their burden. 
 
 Still the Tall Pine refused to listen to 
 their gloomy forebodings. The White 
 Quiver would return. Not only would 
 he return but he would bring the Dawn 
 Mist with him. Her faith was bound 
 less for she had Sun Power. The cold 
 blue-white dawn found her straining her 
 eyes towards the mountain-barred west 
 and when the pale yellow sunset streaked 
 the gray clouds with faint light she was 
 still watching for her child. 
 
 The dark clouds drifted up on the four 
 winds in great, dense masses, formed one 
 solid bank, then the snow fell long and 
 unceasingly. 
 
 With the great snow came the White 
 Quiver; and the Winter's self was not 
 more desolate nor bleak nor chill than 
 he. 
 
 The Night Wind saw him first far 
 217
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 across the dead, colorless stretches, a sol 
 itary figure standing out sharply against 
 a frozen world. And as he came, silent 
 and ghost-like, his footsteps were erased 
 and obliterated by the thin, icy winds that 
 smoothed and leveled the shifting snow 
 into characterless wastes. 
 
 The Night Wind shrieked: 
 
 "He comes I The White Quiver comes, 
 but he comes alone!" 
 
 The Tall Pine rushed from her hus 
 band's lodge and followed the direction 
 of the mad boy's pointing finger, and as 
 she saw the lonely figure glooming out 
 of the white distance, the bitterness of de 
 spair desolated her soul. Each dawn her 
 brave heart had gone forth with this man 
 on his quest. She had seen in vivid im 
 agination how he wandered and searched 
 and did battle, but always in the end she 
 had pictured him leading her child back 
 in triumph. Her grief and disappoint 
 ment knew no bounds and while the 
 Night Wind capered off to meet him, 
 she gashed her flesh anew and blackened 
 218
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 her face that he might see her agony was 
 unassuaged. In vain Eagle Plume tried 
 to soothe her; in vain he urged her to 
 be calm and listen. Her emotion rose 
 as a torrent in the spring and she con 
 fronted the White Quiver, passion-tossed, 
 bleeding and with tongue as deadly as 
 poisoned arrows. 
 
 "Hai ye! So you are the hero who 
 swore to find my daughter!" she cried. 
 
 The White Quiver looked at her with 
 infinite pity and said never a word. 
 
 "No. You cannot answer. You have 
 failed. Our men have turned women 
 and now the women must turn men to 
 fill their places. It is I who must find 
 the Dawn Mist!" 
 
 Her grief broke into a wild, incohe 
 rent storm and Wolf Medicine with sev 
 eral women, took her away bent and 
 shaken as a tree in the grip of the wind. 
 
 People gathered and listened to her re 
 proaches and a loud cry of derision at the 
 White Quiver was smothered. Even 
 those who had lauded him a short moon 
 219
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 before, were ready to turn against him 
 now. 
 
 Eagle Plume advanced and took his 
 hands. 
 
 "No-ko-i, my sonl" he said, "do not 
 heed her for she is mad with sorrow. 
 Every sunrise she has looked for you and 
 sunset has found her still watching, 
 watching, watching as though her soul 
 went out in her eyes to meet you. Poor 
 woman! She needs our pity and our 
 prayers. Come with me. I would 
 speak with you alone." 
 
 The two men disappeared together in 
 Eagle Plume's lodge and left the people 
 without embarrassed and uncertain. 
 
 The braves who had deserted the White 
 Quiver spread the poison of distrust 
 among the tribe. Each one could point 
 out wherein the young chief had erred; 
 each one had a theory which, if carried 
 out, would have brought success rather 
 than failure. The Owl Brave had se 
 cretly encouraged these stories and they 
 grew until some, who knew nothing of 
 220
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the matter, made bold to assert that the 
 White Quiver was a madman and a fool, 
 a fighter of phantoms, not men. Eagle 
 Piume who was a man of judgment, had 
 not heeded these tales nor had the Tall 
 Pine until the young warrior came back 
 alone. 
 
 When the Tall Pine had recovered 
 from the first shock of disappointment 
 she announced her intention to fast and 
 build a Medicine Lodge. Once, long 
 ago in her youth, the Great Mystery in 
 the Sun had listened to her prayers and 
 delivered Eagle Plume and herself out 
 of the grip of death. Ever since they 
 had obeyed his will and served him faith 
 fully. Why should he not respond to 
 her now, if she went to him pure of body 
 and spirit and besought him to restore 
 her child? 
 
 She declared her intention to Wolf 
 Medicine. According to the ancient 
 custom he led her out of her tipi and 
 called aloud, proclaiming to the Sun and 
 the people the object of her fast. Four 
 221
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 times he repeated the proclamation. He 
 and the Tall Pine passed around the 
 lodge four times and finally stood facing 
 the Sun. Wolf Medicine then cried in a 
 loud voice so all might hear: 
 
 "This woman, the Tall Pine, is fasting 
 to build a Medicine Lodge to recover her 
 lost child, the Dawn Mist." 
 
 He then prayed to the Sun interceding 
 thus: 
 
 "O! Na-to-si, Master of Life! 
 
 "This is a virtuous woman. She de 
 sires to build a Medicine Lodge. 
 Through her fast you will be benefitted, 
 for rich gifts will be made to you. In 
 return for the fast, the sacrifice and the 
 offerings, grant the boon for which she 
 will suffer 1" 
 
 Then offerings were brought forth to 
 propitiate the Great Mystery. A silk 
 buffalo robe from the lodge of Eagle 
 Plume and other treasures were dedi 
 cated to the Sun. Wolf Medicine pre 
 sented these offerings, saying: 
 
 U O! Na-to-si, behold! 
 
 222
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "I make you presents! Therefore I 
 implore you to hear me. Grant the boon 
 to the woman who is fasting for you!" 
 
 From now on, the Tall Pine was, in 
 a sense, high priestess. Her time and 
 thoughts were occupied with the occult 
 rites of her sacred office. Not until the 
 heat of summer, when the sun reached 
 his greatest strength and the sarvisber- 
 ries were ripe, would the Medicine 
 Lodge be erected, but through the win 
 ter and the spring there were many prep 
 arations to be made. 
 
 After the proclamation she began to 
 collect buffalo tongues and when the 
 season came, she also busied herself gath 
 ering wild peppermint to use in curing 
 them. In this unceasing labor she found 
 relief. A religious ecstasy possessed her 
 and she prayed constantly to the Sun- 
 God, the Moon, the Mother Earth, the 
 Morning Star and the Medicine birds 
 and beasts, in her zeal hearing strange 
 prophecies and believing with faith ab 
 solute that the girl would be restored. 
 223
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 She made preparations for the Dawn 
 Mist's return, fashioning for her a new 
 garment of elks' skin, strung with elks' 
 teeth and beautified with porcupine 
 quills, bears' claws and the fur of beaver. 
 And as she wrought the wonderful gar 
 ment she rocked and crooned over it and 
 made strange, pathetic little prayers to the 
 Master of Life: 
 
 "Oh! Sun 1 Fair was the morning that I 
 bore her. 
 
 "You looked down and saw her. Your 
 rays were bright and the mists of dawn 
 curled and drifted and shone like white 
 spirits. And when I took her in my 
 arms, I cried, you heard me, she is as 
 beautiful as the mists of morning and the 
 Dawn Mist shall be her name!" 
 
 She also made many parfleches to hold 
 the tongues and upon each of them she 
 lavished tireless labor. 
 
 Her husband watched her with silent 
 reverence, and the poor, distraught Night 
 Wind, whose wits were completely scat 
 tered since his sister left, hovered about 
 224
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 her constantly at times, and at others dis 
 appeared completely. 
 
 So the long winter passed. The White 
 Quiver was seldom in his tipi. He came 
 and went like a ghost and though none 
 knew of his secret wanderings, he often 
 returned with scalps and more than once 
 with ponies. His band-followers had 
 sworn allegiance elsewhere so he was vir 
 tually alone among his tribesmen. 
 
 Spring broke through the icy shackles 
 of winter and bloomed. The streams 
 took up their interrupted songs; the 
 prairie flowed green with tender new 
 grass and flowers, the willows budded, the 
 yellow-breast bubbled over with song and 
 in the air was a wonderful caress like the 
 moist, warm lips of a child. The braves 
 hunted again and killed, and all the while 
 the Tall Pine was gathering fresh tongues 
 and wild peppermint and preparing for 
 the building of the Medicine Lodge. 
 
 When she had collected the tongues of 
 the spring killing, she took them to her 
 lodge, laid them on newly gathered sage 
 225
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and invited all the virtuous married 
 women and the old wise men of the tribe 
 to participate in the ceremonial of the 
 boiling and peeling of the tongues. 
 
 The men sat on one side of the tipi and 
 the women on the other. Each one en 
 tered very softly and with reverent mien. 
 No outsider was allowed to come near 
 the lodge lest he might disturb the sol 
 emn rites. When all were assembled, the 
 Tall Pine took a forked stick made from 
 the sarvisberry bush, with it lifted a burn 
 ing coal from the fire and placed it on a 
 heap of sweet-grass. The fragrant smoke 
 uncoiled and rose like incense, filling the 
 air with pungent odors. And as the 
 scented smoke drifted sunward, the Tall 
 Pine prayed to the Lord of Life. 
 
 "O! Sunl You have created in our 
 hearts the desire to follow your ancient 
 customs. Now help us to observe them 
 according to your will. You know we 
 are virtuous and therefore fit to be your 
 priestesses." 
 
 She then prayed to the Moon, the 
 226
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Morning Star, and the Mother Earth, in 
 voking their help. 
 
 Na-to-si, the Sun, was symbolical of the 
 spiritual element; Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, the 
 Moon, was his wife; the Morning Star 
 was their Son; Sach-Kum, the Mother 
 Earth was the food-giver, the emblem of 
 fertility. 
 
 The Tall Pine finished her prayer and 
 sat down among the other priestesses. 
 Each one, in turn, confessed to the Sun, 
 the Moon and the Mother Earth. The 
 rapt faces, the figures showing dimly 
 through the curling incense of the smoke 
 seemed unreal and weird, and the voices 
 chanting strange rhythms, sounded like 
 echoes out of the past. When all had 
 spoken, the Tall Pine rose again, inter 
 ceding for them, saying: 
 
 "O! Sun! O! Moon! 
 
 "These women are virtuous. Bless 
 them; give them plenty to eat and keep 
 them pure and good." 
 
 The assembled people regarded her 
 reverently and listened attentively to each 
 227
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 word that fell from her lips, for she was 
 now the acknowledged mediator between 
 the tribe on the one hand, and the Sun on 
 the other. In short she was High Priest 
 ess. 
 
 She finished her invocation and re 
 mained looking upward, far removed in 
 religious exaltation. 
 
 Then a buffalo tongue was laid before 
 every woman and each one was given a 
 knife and a steel with which to sharpen 
 the blade. 
 
 Wolf Medicine, who had been chosen 
 Master of Ceremonies, stood erect and 
 addressed the women : 
 
 "Now you will begin to skin the 
 tongues. We do not want holes in them. 
 If any woman among you makes a hole 
 in the tongue it proves that she is not 
 pure." 
 
 While he spoke the women made medi 
 cine over their hands, the knives and the 
 steels, painting them with the sacred red 
 pigment before touching the sacred meat. 
 
 When this ceremony was finished Wolf 
 228
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Medicine repeated his solemn admoni 
 tion. 
 
 The women, in turn, prayed and con 
 fessed again as they began the task which 
 was to prove whether or not they were 
 fit to participate in the festival of the 
 Medicine Lodge. And as they began to 
 peel the tongues, they prayed: 
 
 "O! Sun and Moon! You see me! 
 Look down on me. 
 
 "O! Mother Earth I walk upon you. 
 You also know me. 
 
 "I am pure. 
 
 "I was tempted to sin. 
 
 "Behold! I am virtuous!" 
 
 Thus one by one they related their life- 
 stories, the temptations that had beset 
 them in the flower of youth and their final 
 triumph over the impulses of the flesh. 
 
 All during this time two women, also 
 of spotless character, sat by the lodge 
 door. Between them was a kettle under 
 which a cloth was spread. They, too, 
 made medicine with the sacred paint. 
 Then they took a stout stick and began 
 229
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 to sing, going through the pantomime of 
 thrusting the stick through the handle of 
 the kettle and so raising it, four times. 
 The fourth time they lifted it from the 
 ground. They provided themselves with 
 a wooden bowl and a spoon made of buf 
 falo horn, with which to dip water to fill 
 the kettle. Four times they went through 
 the pantomime of dipping water. 
 
 Then they started for a little stream that 
 flowed near-by, imitating the grunting, 
 bellowing noise of the buffalo as he seeks 
 drink in the fall. They bore the kettle 
 swinging from the stick which was run 
 through the handle, a woman holding 
 either end. As they moved forward they 
 looked down, never raising their eyes. 
 Four times they stopped to rest before 
 coming to the stream. When they 
 reached the running water they went 
 through the pantomime of dipping into it 
 four times, before beginning to fill the 
 vessel, always dipping it up with the horn 
 spoon and the wooden bowl. 
 
 During their absence the women and 
 230
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the wise men within the lodge, sang sa 
 cred chants and the water carriers ap 
 proaching paused to listen for the note 
 of one particular song. It was under 
 stood that the water bearers should wait 
 thus, until certain words were sung. By 
 this signal, they should know when to 
 enter. Accordingly they waited, immov 
 able as graven stone, until these words 
 rose on the lilt of a joyous note : 
 
 "Now persons come with goods and 
 blessings!" 
 
 At that verbal sign the water women 
 entered. Wolf Medicine and his fellow 
 priests, the Sacred woman, the Tall 
 Pine, and her helpers blessed them as they 
 appeared at the lodge door, chanting: 
 
 "Na-to-si, the Sun, Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, 
 the Moon, Sach-kum, the Mother Earth; 
 see this offering of water and therefore 
 you are blessed." 
 
 Thus began the ceremonial of boiling 
 
 the consecrated tongues. Four times the 
 
 water bearers approached the fire and 
 
 essayed to put the kettle on the tripod, 
 
 231
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the fourth time fixing it thereon. The 
 sign of four was the charm which insured 
 the Sun-God's blessing. Dried meat, 
 pounded up finely for pemmican, was in 
 readiness and as the grease rose to the sur 
 face of the water in which the tongues 
 were boiling, the women skimmed it off 
 carefully, using the buffalo horn spoon. 
 They poured this over pounded meat and 
 made pemmican for the feast which was 
 to come. 
 
 The tongues were boiled, cured and 
 dried, then put away in the parfleches 
 made by the Tall Pine. 
 
 As these cases were opened to receive 
 the sacred meat, the same ceremony was 
 repeated; they were opened very slowly, 
 carefully, reverently, and the assembled 
 devotees enacted the pantomime of put 
 ting the consecrated meat in the cases four 
 times before storing it away, to remain 
 until it should be needed in the holy rites 
 of the Medicine Lodge. 
 
 The solemn ceremony came to an end. 
 
 The Tall Pine had taken the first step 
 towards becoming ji Medicine woman. 
 232
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE sun became more brilliant 
 day by day and in his growing 
 strength pushed back the shad 
 owy night until the dawning came early 
 over the prairie and twilight was slow to 
 descend. The pale, spring sky, tossed 
 and turbulent with clouds, deepened into 
 an infinite royal-blue course for the flam 
 ing chariot of the Lord of Day. And as 
 the air grew warm the thunder came up 
 out of the south with a mighty clanging 
 as of cymbals, the violet dart of lightning 
 and a flying pageant of sable clouds. 
 The coming of this awful bird of the 
 heavens was hailed with delight, for as 
 he traveled, his flaming trail, the light 
 ning, scattered fecund rain that made 
 the world bloom and the berries grow. 
 So when the first distant boom of the storm 
 was heard, Wolf Medicine, in the pres- 
 
 233
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ence of many worshipers, unwrapped the 
 Sacred Pipe stem, fitted it to the Thun 
 der pipe and smoked and danced to the 
 deity amid the blinding flame of light 
 ning brands and the huge concussion of 
 the thunder-shock. Furiously he danced, 
 the terrible illumination playing over 
 him; his voice raised in the sacred thun 
 der songs, mingling with the roar of the 
 storm. During the ceremony warriors 
 counted coups, smoked and ate sarvisber- 
 ries after giving the first portion to Sach- 
 kum, the Mother Earth. 
 
 After this, myriads of flowers sprang up 
 out of the warm, moist ground. Purple 
 lupine lay like haze on the hills, wild sun 
 flowers tossed in a sea of gold before a 
 great, boisterous, romping wind, gentians 
 opened their blue eyes on the world, In 
 dian Paint Brush flamed crimson, wild 
 roses unfolded their delicate petals and 
 all of the countless blossoms of the flower- 
 world decked the prairie until its tawny 
 face was a paradise of bloom. Willows, 
 quaking asps and dwarf maples were 
 
 -34
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 newly, tenderly green. The beavers came 
 cautiously out of their winter lodges and 
 the song birds returned to mate and nest 
 and make the woods vocal with song. 
 
 All of these signs pointed to the Moon 
 of Flowers, the ripening of the sarvis- 
 berries and the approach of the season 
 for building the Medicine Lodge. To 
 the White Quiver they indicated as surely 
 that the Kootenais under Spotted Horse 
 would soon be at the rendezvous at Ne- 
 nas-ta-ko, the Chief Mountain. 
 
 There was a stir of expectation among 
 the people for they knew they would soon 
 be on the march. Only the Night Wind 
 was sorry to leave this playground. He 
 had gathered eggs on the margins of small 
 lakes and in marshes as he and the Dawn 
 Mist had done in days gone by. In the 
 woods he had bird and squirrel friends to 
 whom he had become attached. He 
 spent much time in their company, talk 
 ing and laughing to them and they, with 
 subtle instinct, seemed to know that he 
 was more of their kind than that of the 
 
 235
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 destroyer, man. Another favorite sport 
 of the Night Wind was the snaring of 
 eagles. On the crest of a butte he dug 
 a pit, placed in it a piece of bloody meat 
 and close by a stuffed fox skin so a fox 
 appeared to be feeding on the carrion. 
 To the meat he tied a stout thong which 
 he held in his hand. Before daybreak he 
 concealed himself in the pit beneath a 
 false roof of juniper interwoven with 
 boughs. There he waited. He kept 
 with him a human skull that its ghost 
 might make him invisible and protect him 
 from the eagles' claws. He saw the ea 
 gles soaring overhead, wheeling lazily in 
 the blue. He knew right well that their 
 keen eyes could see the bait from a great 
 height. At last a bird descended with a 
 heavy swoop, thinking to steal the meat 
 from the fox, and as it landed the Night 
 Wind grabbed its feet and wrung its neck 
 with a deft twist of his strong hands. He 
 then thrust a piece of pemmican in its 
 beak so its spirit might tell its fellows 
 in the Great White Desert that the Night 
 236
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Wind had treated it well. Sometimes 
 he caught many birds in one day. Their 
 wings were used for fans, their tail feath 
 ers for war-bonnets and the quills for ar 
 rows because they were swift-flying and 
 light. 
 
 When his straying fancy returned to the 
 thought that the time was nearly come 
 when he must bid these haunts and pleas 
 ures good-bye, the Night Wind was 
 grieved. He came to the camp only to 
 sleep and to eat. 
 
 He had been absent as usual all one 
 day from sunrise until twilight deep 
 ened into night, when, suddenly he 
 rushed into his father's lodge, panting 
 sorely, his eyes wild with fear and with 
 froth over his lips. Eagle Plume and the 
 White Quiver were together. They had 
 been discussing the meeting with the Koo- 
 tenais. Eagle Plume questioned the boy, 
 and at length, shuddering, writhing and 
 with awful distortions, he said: 
 
 "The little squaw squirrel had been in 
 a temper, her heart was bad and she quar- 
 
 237
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 reled with her brave. I was telling her 
 the folly of it when, " 
 
 He broke off and looked around fear 
 fully. 
 
 "... I heard a spirit voice. O! It 
 wailed and moaned and cried as the wind 
 mourns on dark nights when there is no 
 moon and the clouds run thick and fast 
 like a wolf pack. I could feel the tears 
 in that voice yet I knew it was nothing 
 human that could weep. I did not know 
 before that doomed souls were so sad . . . 
 I could not tell whence the sound came 
 for it seemed to come from everywhere, 
 down from the sky, up out of the earth 
 where the Under-Ground people are, and 
 from the homeless winds. I was fright 
 ened. I wanted to fly but the twilight 
 was thick and murky and full of shadowy 
 beings, and I was afraid of the Voice! 
 . . . Then, ah! then Ky-O, the witch 
 
 woman, appeared with the wolf-dog and 
 
 
 
 ... 
 
 "And what? Speak!" the White 
 Quiver cried sharply. 
 
 238
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ". . . And I saw through the pines a 
 ghost. When the witch woman saw me 
 she cursed and struck out at me with her 
 staff and set the wolf-dog on me. He 
 sprang at my throat and I ran here with 
 all the evil spirits after me." 
 
 As he ceased speaking a fit seized him. 
 His eyes rolled, he bit his tongue, foam 
 oozed from his drawn lips and his limbs 
 became rigid. After this he lay in a stu 
 por for many hours. 
 
 "Poor boy I His dreams are killing 
 him. The Dawn Mist could soothe him 
 but we cannot," said Eagle Plume sorrow 
 fully. 
 
 "But are they dreams? What is this 
 awful thing he may have seen?" 
 
 "Nothing, nothing but a cloud or a 
 shadow and the crying of the wind." 
 
 "That may be, but I will go and 
 search." 
 
 The White Quiver heeded no advice 
 and all night long he beat about the woods 
 blindly, impotently and with no result. 
 When the Night Wind came to from his 
 
 239
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Stupor he could or would tell nothing co- 
 herent and when the White Quiver 
 begged the poor, distraught boy to go with 
 him and show him the place where he 
 had seen Ky-O and heard the Voice, he 
 was all but seized with another convul 
 sion of fear. 
 
 The incident passed and was forgotten 
 by all save the White Quiver who was 
 haunted by the weird story. He believed 
 the Night Wind had seen Ky-O. Where 
 had she been since the Moon of Yel 
 low Leaves? What did her coming now 
 forebode? And what in all the black 
 and evil domain of her accursed medicine 
 was this ghost that flitted after her in the 
 twilight of the pines? 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 EAGLE PLUME was a great war 
 rior but he fought only when he 
 must and in his heart he was a man 
 of peace. Therefore he approved of the 
 truce agreed upon by Spotted Horse and 
 the White Quiver, between the Piegans 
 and the Mountain People who had been 
 formidable enemies in the past, and he de 
 termined to march northward to Ne-nas- 
 ta-ko, the Chief Mountain, to show his 
 good will. He decreed that the Medi 
 cine Lodge be built there and the cere 
 monies held in the presence of the stran 
 gers. Nothing could be more fortunate 
 than their coming at this season when the 
 greatest festival of the twelve Moons 
 would take place and the whole tribe 
 be assembled in the fulness of mili 
 tant glory. Perhaps mingled with the 
 newly-begotten feeling of friendliness in 
 241
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the bosom of Eagle Plume there was the 
 desire to impress his whilom foes. 
 
 At the Great Chief's command the peo 
 ple were informed through heralds of the 
 I-kun-uh-kah-tsi, that the time was close 
 at hand when they must break camp and 
 strike out towards the Cold Country 
 where the Tall Pine would build a Medi 
 cine Lodge for the recovery of her lost 
 child, the Dawn Mist. They were also 
 told of the coming of the Kootenais and 
 warned upon pain of severe punishment 
 to treat them as honored guests. 
 
 The ceremony of the Medicine Lodge 
 was complex with strange ritual and mys 
 tic form and it was vital that each detail be 
 carried out by the rules given to Scarface, 
 by the Sun. According to the ancient 
 story a youth named Scarface, fell in 
 love with a maiden who belonged to the 
 Great Mystery. Scarface was very poor 
 and on his cheek there was a scar. 
 Though the people jeered at him, he 
 was in reality the son of a mor 
 tal mother and Epi-so-ax, the Morn- 
 242
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ing Star. When he asked the maiden to 
 be his wife she told him that he must first 
 get permission from the Sun. Scarface 
 set out to find the Sun's lodge asking the 
 different animals the way. Morning 
 Star, his father, took him before the Lord 
 of Life and he remained long in the celes 
 tial kingdom. One day he saved the life 
 of the Morning Star who was the only 
 child of the Sun and Moon and in grati 
 tude the Sun gave him the hand of the 
 maiden whom he loved. But before he 
 sent him earthward to his reward by the 
 Wolf Trail, that milky path which is the 
 short way from heaven to earth, worn by 
 the tread of spirit feet in their restless 
 wanderings, he removed the scar from 
 the young man's face, dressed him in 
 strangely beautiful raiment and made him 
 comely to look upon. 
 
 Then the Sun said: 
 
 "Behold I am Chief of the Universe. 
 
 "I made the world with its mountains, 
 its prairies, its streams and valleys. I 
 also made man and the beasts of the air 
 
 243
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and the fishes that dwell in the waters. 
 I made them all and therefore they are 
 mine. 
 
 "I have seen the days and I know all 
 things from the Beginning to the End. 
 
 "Only I have no beginning and no end. 
 Men and birds and beasts and growing 
 things spring up and live a little while, 
 then die. But I live always. There 
 fore I am eternal, supreme. In the Moon 
 of Budding Leaves I am young; in the 
 Moon of Flowers when the berries are 
 ripe I am strong; in the Moon when the 
 snows are heavy and the jack-rabbit whis 
 tles at night I am weak and old, but when 
 the chinook comes, the snows melt and the 
 flowers bud, lo! I am young again and so 
 on forever, without end. 
 
 "I am the Great Father! I am the 
 Spirit. 
 
 "Of all the birds of the air the raven 
 is wisest because he always provides him 
 self with food. Therefore he is of the 
 Sun and my favorite. 
 
 "Of all the animals, E-e-neo, the buf- 
 244
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 falo is the best. His tongue is sacred to 
 me. 
 
 "Of all the things that grow in the 
 ground the berries are the best. They, 
 too, are sacred to me. 
 
 "Of all the herbs and flowers the sweet- 
 grass is the best and its fragrance the most 
 pleasing to me, therefore it shall be 
 burned as incense so its pleasant odors 
 may bear the prayers of my earth-chil 
 dren to me." 
 
 Then the Sun said: 
 
 "Come with me and I will show you the 
 world." 
 
 He took Scarface to the rim of the sky. 
 
 The world lay far below them. It 
 looked small and round and flat and it 
 was encircled by walls of infinite space. 
 
 Then the Sun said. 
 
 "You see the world. You see how it 
 looks from my lodge which is the sky. 
 
 "Go back to your people and tell them 
 that I will hear the prayers of all women 
 who are chaste. If a woman who has a 
 husband or child sick or in danger let her 
 
 245
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 build for me a lodge that is like the world, 
 round and with walls. But before she 
 builds the lodge she must cause to be made 
 a sweat house of one hundred willow 
 branches. The form of this must be like 
 the sky. Half of it must be painted black 
 for the night and the other half red, which 
 is for me. 
 
 "The woman who builds the lodge must 
 fast for four days to prove her virtue. 
 Four is the sacred number and must be 
 observed in all ceremonies to me. If she 
 be pure I will shine upon her and if she 
 be false I shall send rain. And when her 
 fast shall end if she prove worthy there 
 shall be a feast of my food which is the 
 tongue of the buffalo." 
 
 The Sun gave Scarface the whole of 
 the sacred ritual, the songs and ceremonies 
 and when he returned to earth with 
 the scar removed from his face, clad in 
 garments such as had never been seen be 
 fore, and with the two raven feathers in 
 his hair, he was hailed as a Prophet of the 
 Sun. He told the people all that the Sun 
 246
 
 had said and taught them even as the Sun 
 had taught him. 
 
 He claimed the maiden whom he loved 
 for his bride and she was glad for she 
 knew by the sign of the raven feathers that 
 the Sun had sanctioned the marriage. 
 
 Then the first Medicine Lodge was 
 built in accord with the divine command 
 and every year in the Moon when the 
 sarvisberries are ripe and the flowers 
 bloom and the Sun is in the height of his 
 prowess and glory, the Medicine Lodge 
 is built again as it was in the beginning. 
 The form has never changed and a mis 
 take forebodes disaster, dishonor and 
 death. 
 
 When at last Scarface and his wife 
 passed painlessly to the Spirit World, he 
 joined his father, the Morning Star in 
 the skies where he may be seen shining in 
 the bosom of the dawn even unto this day. 
 The Indians know him and hail him as 
 Mon-yan, the New Robe or the False 
 Morning Star. 
 
 A Medicine woman, who had fasted 
 247
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the year before to build a Medicine 
 Lodge, and her husband, a man of holi 
 ness and sapience, were in constant attend 
 ance, instructing the Tall Pine in her 
 occult office. 
 
 When the whole tribe was ready to 
 move, the former Medicine woman pro 
 duced a travois painted with the conse 
 crated red, the sun-color, as were also the 
 parfleches containing the tongues. Four 
 times the act of hitching the travois to the 
 horse, and four times the pantomime of 
 loading the parfleches on the travois were 
 repeated. 
 
 A buffalo robe was spread on the 
 ground, the Tall Pine with veiled face 
 was placed upon it and as she lay motion 
 less the people offered up prayers for her 
 to the Sun. Then after four attempts she 
 was raised to the back of her horse and 
 she, with Wolf Medicine, whom the 
 Chiefs had made Master of Ceremonies, 
 led the march. 
 
 A small party of warriors acting as 
 scouts rode ahead to reconnoiter the coun- 
 248
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 try, watch for buffalo and lurking ene 
 mies. They were also to choose good 
 camping places along the way. One or 
 more of them came back frequently to the 
 main body of the tribe to report. 
 
 Each evening as they stopped for their 
 night's rest, the Tall Pine was lifted from 
 her horse after the symbolic four attempts 
 and the people prayed for her to the Great 
 Mystery in the Sun. 
 
 This was the season of the summer 
 chase and the young braves hunted as they 
 went. Sometimes the tribe halted and 
 camped for several days while the war 
 riors sallied forth and brought in plenti 
 ful kills of buffalo and antelope. All of 
 the fresh tongues were carefully collected, 
 boiled and peeled according to the same 
 stern ritual. 
 
 Then they took up the march afresh 
 until they had journeyed long and far. 
 Each sunset brought them nearer the coral 
 cone of Ne-nas-ta-ko, the Chief Moun 
 tain, which stood somewhat separate and 
 apart from the great bond of the range. 
 249
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Everyone knew that in the shadow of that 
 peak the journey would end and everyone 
 recalled how, upon its lofty summit where 
 the Thunder Bird nested and brought 
 forth its progeny of storm, the White 
 Quiver had confronted the Wind-God 
 and received from him the sign that saved 
 the tribe from starvation. Therefore this 
 vicinity was sacred ground. 
 
 The choice of a suitable site for the 
 Medicine Lodge was left to the scouts. 
 There were many things to consider in 
 such a selection, but first in importance 
 was the necessity for plenty of good poles. 
 As they neared Chief Mountain, soldiers 
 of the I-kun-uh-kah-tsi were sent two or 
 three days' march ahead and when they 
 found a fitting place their leader rode 
 back and informed the Chiefs and Medi 
 cine men. 
 
 Four camps fire before reaching their 
 destination they built the first sweat lodge 
 and each day thereafter another was 
 built until there were four. They were 
 made in this manner: a hole about a foot 
 250
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and a half in diameter and six inches 
 deep was dug. Around it one hun 
 dred pliable branches of willows which 
 had been cut by warriors of the dif 
 ferent bands, who had fasted for a 
 day, were planted and fastened to 
 gether at the top, forming a low, 
 circular structure shaped like the dome 
 of heaven. This was covered with buf 
 falo hides by the Medicine men and on 
 top of it was placed a buffalo skull with 
 the horns intact, painted on one side with 
 red dots to represent the Sun, and on the 
 other with black dots symbolical of the 
 Moon and Stars. A fire was kindled out 
 side, upon which to burn sweet-grass for 
 incense and to heat one hundred stones 
 the size of a man's hand that had been 
 collected by warriors, who had also fasted 
 for one day. 
 
 When this was done the Tall Pine, with 
 her attendants came out from the sacred 
 tipi and after making the circle of the 
 sweat house, took her place facing the sun 
 set. They waited there until they saw the 
 251
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 smoke from the sweet-grass rising, the 
 signal that the stones were hot. They 
 sang four songs and as the fourth came 
 to a close, the hot stones were passed into 
 the lodge one by one. With the sacred 
 spoon of buffalo horn, Wolf Medicine 
 and the priest poured water, little by lit 
 tle, on the stones until clouds of steam 
 enveloped them. After they had sweated 
 and were cleansed in body and spirit, they 
 chanted prayer-songs to the Sun four 
 times, then four times made as if to raise 
 the buffalo hide covering, the fourth time 
 lifting it in the direction whence the sun 
 rises, then in the direction whence he sets. 
 
 A vast chorus of deep voices rose, chant 
 ing to Na-to-si, that the sweat lodge was 
 built for him. 
 
 When the sweat was over Wolf Medi 
 cine and the priests came out and the feast 
 of consecrated tongues began. 
 
 During the sweat the Tall Pine and her 
 
 helpers, covered with buffalo hides, had 
 
 remained sitting on the sunset side of the 
 
 lodge. The soldiers who were helpers of 
 
 252
 
 A (1HKAT u \I;I;KI|: . . . KOI.I.O\Vi:i> II v TIIK SOI.IHKIIS. RODE OUT TO THK 
 
 SIM IT i\ TNI: roni:sT \VIIKHK TIIK corn is \voon (;m:\v."
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the Medicine men, sat in a half-circle 
 close by. The Tall Pine and her women 
 brought one of the parfleches and pre 
 sented it to the warriors. One of the 
 women went through the motion of unty 
 ing the case four times, the fourth time 
 opening it reverently. Wolf Medicine, 
 assisted by a priest, divided the dried 
 tongues, breaking them into small pieces, 
 and giving a portion to each of the braves. 
 As the tongues were divided solemn pray 
 ers were made, and before a morsel passed 
 their lips they first offered the meat to the 
 Sun, then planted a bit in the ground as an 
 offering to Mother Earth and the Under- 
 Ground people. 
 
 After the feast the covers of buffalo 
 hide were removed from the sweat house, 
 the Tall Pine and her attendants returned 
 slowly to the sacred tipi and the people 
 dispersed and went their way. 
 
 This was the signal that the cutting of 
 the poles to build the Medicine Lodge 
 was about to begin. 
 
 Though the time for the great cere- 
 
 253
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 mony was nearly at hand the Kootenais 
 had not come. Eagle Plume began to 
 fear that Spotted Horse had repented his 
 promise. He permitted the White 
 Quiver to go to Ne-nas-ta-ko, the Chief 
 Mountain, to watch for the visiting tribe. 
 
 Meantime the preparations went on un 
 interruptedly in the Sun Dance camp. 
 Wolf Medicine, the Master of Cere 
 monies, despatched a herald, who cried 
 out sonorously so all might hear, that the 
 people must cut a center pole and also 
 smaller poles for the Medicine Lodge. 
 For the center pole they must be careful 
 to select a straight cottonwood with good 
 forks. 
 
 The Mad Dogs had prepared the sa 
 cred tipi for the Tall Pine and the Medi 
 cine Bonnet which was the emblem of her 
 exalted office. Every relation of her clan 
 or gentes contributed something towards 
 the purchase of this bonnet. Some had 
 given buffalo robes, others ponies and 
 others yet, more modest of fortune, do 
 nated little personal ornaments. Eagle 
 
 254
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Plume made up the balance needed and it 
 was a large price that he paid the owner, 
 the former Medicine woman, for the 
 Great Medicine, the Bonnet made from 
 the head of the bull elk, which was essen 
 tial to her as the Lodge Giver. 
 
 During the Tall Pine's fast of four 
 days, she could eat no food and no drop 
 of clear water could she drink to quench 
 her thirst. Just before sunrise and after 
 sunset one clam-shell full of water mixed 
 with red clay was given her but that was 
 all. 
 
 She lay in a kind of trance, often dream 
 ing of her lost child, hearing voices 
 speaking out of the emptiness and always 
 praying to the Sun, the Moon, the Morn 
 ing Star and the Mother Earth with the 
 awful fervor of a devotee. 
 
 "O! Mother Earth!" she would croon, 
 "Hear me! You yourself are a mother. 
 From your womb spring the trees, the 
 flowers, the streams and mists that are the 
 spirits of the streams. If you love your 
 children take pity on my mother-love and 
 
 255
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 send my Dawn Mist back to me in the 
 arms of the morning!" 
 
 At other times she cried out in fright, 
 thinking she heard the accusing beat of 
 raindrops on the lodge. Upon clear 
 weather everything depended. This fast 
 was the supreme test of her virtue. 
 If rain fell all was lost and she would be 
 condemned in the eyes of the tribe, for 
 the Sun-God sent rain only when the 
 Medicine woman broke her fast or was 
 unclean. 
 
 And all the while through the silence, 
 sounded the sibilant, shrill piping of a 
 whistle of eagle-bone blown by Wolf 
 Medicine to keep away the rain. 
 
 While the Tall Pine fasted and prayed 
 the people were occupied with the find 
 ing of a tree such as Wolf Medicine had 
 described for the center pole of the Med 
 icine Lodge, and the cutting of smaller 
 poles and brush to be used in constructing 
 its walls and roof. 
 
 A band of chosen soldiers from the dif 
 ferent societies, who were sent to search 
 256
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 for the center pole, rode back announcing 
 that they had found a perfectly straight 
 cottonwood, with a suitable fork at the 
 branching of the limbs. 
 
 The Tall Pine selected a great warrior 
 who had once returned victorious from 
 the war-path without one of his party 
 having shed a drop of blood, to cut the 
 cottonwood. This was a mark of honor 
 and esteem. He, with three other Chiefs, 
 making four in all, rode out followed by 
 the soldiers, to the spot in the forest where 
 the cottonwood grew. It was indeed a 
 fair tree with shining bark and leaves of 
 glossy green lined with silver and 'from 
 it fell tiny, white flakes like spirits of the 
 snow. The advancing soldiers halted. 
 The four chosen warriors dismounted. 
 The leader, he of the bloodless victory, 
 told four stories of triumph and glory. 
 Each of the others in turn counted four 
 coups. The soldiers of the various bands 
 were drawn up a little distance to the 
 rear with arrows aimed and guns cocked. 
 Then the leader stepped forward with an 
 257
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ax painted the sacred sun color and struck 
 the tree. As the steel bit into the bark 
 sending the silvery chips flying, prayers 
 were offered that the tree might fall easily 
 with its branches flat and unbroken. 
 
 The cottonwood tottered on its shining 
 bole and simultaneously the war-cry 
 pealed forth in a volume of vibrating 
 sound that made the forest ring. In an 
 other moment the tree crashed to earth. 
 Guns and arrows were fired into it in a 
 furious fusillade and the soldiers rushed 
 at it and closed in upon it as if it were 
 a vanquished enemy. 
 
 The limbs were trimmed, but unhap 
 pily some had been crushed and broken; 
 the tree was cut the proper length and 
 prepared to load on the travois which 
 stood ready to receive it. Four times they 
 essayed to put it on the travois, the fourth 
 time securing it firmly and starting for 
 the site o'f the Medicine Lodge. 
 
 According to the number of its chiefs, 
 each band contributed its share of poles, 
 which were dragged to the place chosen
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 for the sacred structure by women on 
 horse back. They rode into camp in 
 four columns, from the sunrise, the sun 
 set, the Cold country and the Warm coun 
 try, the women marching behind and 
 chanting incessantly as they came. The 
 cutting and carrying of the poles was im 
 pressive and solemn, followed even to the 
 least detail according to the rules given 
 to Scarface by the Great Mystery which 
 dwells in the Sun, before the building of 
 the first Medicine Lodge in the Spring 
 of the World. The sacred number of 
 four with its magical charm was ob 
 served in every movement. They omitted 
 nothing, dared nothing new, prayed that 
 no mistake be made so Na-to-si would 
 smile upon them, answer their prayers and 
 grant the Tall Pine's boon. 
 
 The sun rose strong and bright on the 
 fourth day of the Tall Pine's fast. His 
 first illuminating beams struck the pur 
 pling mountains, that mid-land between 
 the spirit world and the earth where the 
 great gods dwell, and as he soared 
 259
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 higher into the blue, a tide of amber light 
 flowed over the prairie where the briar 
 roses and purple asters and shy violets, 
 still wet with dew, bloomed and mingled 
 with the golden grass and the gray-green 
 sage. 
 
 Just before sunrise the Tall Pine and 
 Eagle Plume had been wakened with a 
 song. 
 
 The camp was quick with expectation. 
 Horsemen flashed across the great circle 
 of the lodges, there was a general move 
 ment and the indefinable stir of sup 
 pressed excitement. Then heralds, gaily 
 bedizened, each wearing the characteristic 
 dress of his band, rode through the camp 
 crying loudly: 
 
 "Hai Ye! 
 
 "The Great Chief, Eagle Plume, bids 
 you make ready for the grand parade. 
 The tribe will march from Eagle Plume's 
 lodge when Na-to-si, the Sun, stands in 
 the middle of the sky!" 
 
 The Owl Brave, Three Moons and 
 some others of the Mosquito Band were 
 260
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 outside their society lodge as the herald 
 passed. 
 
 "The Great parade is about to start," 
 said Three Moons, "but there is no sign 
 of the Kootenais. The mad chief, White 
 Quiver, has gone away to hide because 
 he is ashamed. He fears to count coups 
 in the Medicine Lodge. When he re 
 turns we will worry him. He shall feel 
 the sting of the Mosquitos!" 
 
 The young men laughed loudly. They 
 were already rejoicing over the White 
 Quiver's disgrace. The crucial time was 
 at hand and he had not made good. 
 
 Every tipi was the scene of elaborate 
 preparation. Chiefs, warriors, untried 
 striplings, women and children painted 
 their faces and bodies with bright pig 
 ments as they peered into polished metal 
 mirrors. They perfumed themselves 
 with sweet-grass, camomile blossoms, 
 meadow rue, beaver, musk and balsam 
 pine. Then from the depths of parfleche 
 cases the ceremonial costumes of the fam 
 ily were taken. Into these the women put 
 261
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 their highest conception of art, their 
 greatest skill and their loving tribute of 
 patient toil. Many of the older women's 
 eyes had grown dim and blind that their 
 lords might enter the Medicine Lodge 
 and measure strength with their peers in 
 costumes befitting heroes. 
 
 Even the horses were sumptuously ca 
 parisoned. Beautifully wrought breast 
 collars and cruppers adorned them; on 
 their backs were lavishly beaded saddle 
 blankets; their bridles were marvels of 
 cunning craftsmanship and their tails 
 were caught up and fastened with gaily 
 hued feathers. Every proud move they 
 made was responded to by the tinkling of 
 tiny bells. The women's saddles were 
 constructed of bone and the richest of 
 them had pommels of deer and elks' ant 
 lers. 
 
 The soldiers carried shields made of 
 thick hide from buffalo hump which was 
 impervious to arrows. These shields 
 were tied with bunches of bright feath 
 ers. The most wealthy men had bows of 
 262
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 polished elk horn. Fans of eagle wings 
 and hawk feathers fluttered in the breeze 
 and every soldier was armed with his 
 spear, knife, bow and arrows. 
 
 Resplendent with such accoutrements 
 little groups of people rode or walked to 
 the lodge of Eagle Plume where the pa 
 rade was forming. They were light- 
 hearted and happy and snatches of song 
 burst from their lips unpremeditatedly as 
 it does from the throats of birds, for with 
 the austere religious spirit that marked 
 the ceremonial of the Medicine Lodge, 
 the young people mingled fun and merry 
 making. And now, the Night Wind, dis 
 guised as a buffoon, raced madly about 
 imitating a buffalo bull, charging timid 
 old women and scattering groups of chil 
 dren and barking curs at every rush. He 
 turned somersaults on the back of his 
 Ji pony, poised on one foot on the animal's 
 back and cut grotesque capers with his 
 black robes fluttering in the air and his 
 head encased in a buffalo mask. 
 
 The drums beat, the whistles sounded, 
 263
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Eagle Plume advanced slowly on his 
 night-black horse. And if his chiefs and 
 warriors were richly arrayed, he outshone 
 them as the sun outshines the stars. His 
 war-bonnet of picked eagle feathers hung 
 to the parfleche soles of his moccasins. 
 From the beaded band which clasped his 
 brow was a deep fringe of winter weasel 
 skins. His finely tanned elk hide shirt 
 was thickly sewn with elks' tusks, and 
 ermine skins formed fringes on his sleeves. 
 His leggins and moccasins were em 
 broidered with black and yellow porcu 
 pine quills wrought in an elaborate pat 
 tern, the devotional tribute of his wife 
 and child who was gone the Dawn Mist. 
 In his ears were earrings of white shells. 
 His necklace was of bear claws and ropes 
 of wampum fell to his waist. About him 
 was folded a mantle of beaver buffalo 
 worth many horses. His forehead was 
 painted with a red disc for the Sun and in 
 his hair were two raven feathers, the sign 
 that his wife was building a Medicine 
 Lodge. But the Great Chief looked old. 
 264
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 His noble face showed mastery of himself, 
 without which there is no strength, but it 
 also showed what the price of that victory 
 had been. His brow was furrowed with 
 deep lines, his black hair was streaked 
 with gray and his eyes had the restless 
 look of one who seeks in vain. 
 
 Then followed the three branches of 
 the Blackfeet nation, the Piegans, the 
 Bloods and the big-bodied North Black- 
 feet, and the different bands of the I-kun- 
 uh-kah-tsi in regular order according to 
 the rank and age of the members, the band 
 chiefs riding at the heads of their socie 
 ties. Immediately behind Eagle Plume 
 came the members of his band, the 
 Braves. They wore moccasins which 
 had no ankle tops, embroidered with 
 porcupine quills; each was armed with 
 knife, bow and a large quiver of ar- 
 
 t vs. They also carried long, peeled 
 es bound with red and black cloth, 
 tipped with a spear point and ornamented 
 with feathers and little bells. 
 
 The Sinopaix or Kit-fox Society whose 
 265
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Medicine was a fox skin, marched in 
 characteristic order, forming and trav 
 eling in the shape of a fox's head. The 
 Chief preceded his comrades and repre 
 sented the fox's nose. He wore a fox skin, 
 the head of which was fashioned into a 
 hood. The tail, tied with bells, hung 
 down his back. His face was painted 
 green. Next came two men of lesser 
 rank who represented the eyes. The rest 
 of the band followed en masse carefully 
 preserving the form of the Medicine ani 
 mal's head. 
 
 The Mosquitos, of which the Owl 
 Brave was chief, wore buffalo robes with 
 the fur outside and bracelets of eagle tal 
 ons. Each had a plume tied in his hair. 
 
 The Bulls were distinguished by a head 
 dress made from the heads and horns of 
 buffalo bulls. 
 
 The Mad Dogs, the Society of the 
 White Quiver; the Doves, the Crow 
 Bears and the rest fell in and marched 
 in their appointed places. 
 
 Eagle Plume rode forward very slowly. 
 266
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 He surveyed the legions which were his 
 subjects. As if in subtle accord with his 
 will the living mass vibrated, thrilled, 
 wavered for a moment then flowed like 
 the tide of a mighty river. Simultane 
 ously, a vast volume of sound, the lilt of 
 a race-old song, broke from their lips and 
 throbbed in varying cadence through the 
 breathless, sun-steeped air. Onward they 
 rode, phalanx upon phalanx, swinging 
 in the orbit of a mighty circle. Glint 
 of steel and gleam of color flashed 
 and flamed far out over the prairie, and 
 ever and anon, keeping time with the 
 rhythmic motion of the riders, came the 
 note of the weird-sweet song, full of tears 
 that are never shed, sobs that never break 
 and formless yearning which is never sat 
 isfied. 
 
 The huge circle uncoiled its miles 
 around the circumference of the camp and 
 when the parade was finished the sun 
 hung low over the "Backbone of the 
 World." 
 
 As the shadows lengthened and the light 
 267
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 mellowed into ruddy gold, the Tall Pine, 
 amid solemn singing, was dressed in the 
 Medicine robe of elkskin, the Medicine 
 Bonnet of bull-elk head was placed on 
 her brow and she, with her husband who 
 bore a stalk of rhubarb which represented 
 the bull-elk's bugling; Wolf Medicine 
 and her attendants, left the lodge. Very 
 slowly and reverently, with bowed heads 
 and measured steps, they proceeded in a 
 circle following the Sun's course and 
 pausing four times, on their way to the 
 site of the Medicine Lodge. 
 
 On the sunset side of the sacred edifice 
 a shelter of pines and brush had been built 
 for the women assisting the Tall Pine and 
 the parfleches containing the consecrated 
 meat. These parfleches were now 
 brought forth, with the same delibera 
 tion, always observing the pantomime of 
 unfastening them four times before they 
 were finally opened. Each of the de 
 voted and stainless women was given a 
 tongue. Holding a bit of consecrated 
 meat aloft in her right hand she faced 
 268
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the setting sun, telling her life-story 
 even as the warriors counted coups, re 
 lating her victories of peace as they told 
 of their conquests in war. Humbled in 
 the presence of the great Sun Power each 
 devotee bared her heart, confessed her 
 sins and transgressions, and in a state of 
 religious exaltation offered herself to the 
 Sun. She then made her prayer for her 
 sick and those who were in danger, ask 
 ing that they be restored to health and 
 preserved from harm. When this invo 
 cation was done she gave a portion of the 
 meat to the Mother Earth and the Earth 
 people. 
 
 After each woman had received her 
 portion of tongue, the soldiers divided the 
 meat that remained and gave a small 
 piece to each person. 
 
 Then came the ceremonial of the cut 
 ting of the hide. A green buffalo hide, 
 in which there was no flaw or small part 
 missing, was laid upon the ground. Four 
 men were chosen to cut it into strips. 
 Each one of these counted four different 
 269
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 coups when they were done. Wolf 
 Medicine painted the steel for sharpening 
 the knives with the sacred red paint as 
 he had at the ceremony of the peeling of 
 the tongues, and he prayed to the Sun 
 that these men might cut the hide right, 
 as a mistake was earnest of disaster and 
 death. 
 
 The Owl Brave was one of the chosen 
 four. The cutting then proceeded amid 
 profound silence. There was an invol 
 untary stir, an exclamation from the 
 women; the Owl Brave's knife slipped 
 and he made a mistake. 
 
 Each person paid guns, blankets and 
 furs for strips of this hide to be used in 
 fastening the poles together on the Med 
 icine Lodge. 
 
 When the sun hung low over the pur 
 ple mountain-tips, Eagle Plume arose. 
 With solemn mien and deep, resonant 
 voice he ordered the people to prepare 
 for the raising of the center pole. 
 
 The soldiers of the different Societies 
 disappeared to return painted and clad 
 270
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 in splendid attire. Forming a hollow 
 square the lines of which were parallel to 
 the four points of the compass, they stood 
 around the hole dug for the center pole, 
 holding long poles bound with stout 
 thongs near the top, for the purpose of 
 lifting, the heavy trees to be used in the 
 construction of the Medicine Lodge. 
 Band after band marched up, singing. 
 As they assembled, a volume of melody 
 burst from their lips and in unison they 
 chanted the Raising of the Pole, handed 
 down through countless generations. 
 
 The four lines of the hollow square ad 
 vanced towards the center pole from the 
 directions of the Cold country, the Warm 
 country, the sunrise and the sunset. Wolf 
 Medicine, the Tall Pine, Eagle Plume 
 and the Medicine man and woman of 
 the past year with the priests and help 
 ing women passed slowly, one by one into 
 the hallowed precincts of the Medicine 
 Lodge. 
 
 As the soldiers advanced for the fourth 
 time, they formed themselves into a cir- 
 271
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 cle around the Medicine Lodge and sang 
 the solemn "Hymn to the Pole." 
 
 A bundle of birch shoots had been 
 fastened in the forks of the center pole 
 to prevent it from splitting when the 
 heavy timbers were put in place. Upon 
 this Wolf Medicine perched. He was 
 painted black, the symbolical color of 
 victory and night. He waved his sable 
 robe, piped and shrilled on his medicine 
 whistle of eagle bone, then leaped with 
 one bound to earth and rushed to the sweat 
 lodge. 
 
 The Tall Pine and Eagle Plume with 
 the Medicine man and woman of the year 
 before climbed into the forks. Facing 
 the rising sun they sang: 
 
 "My Holy Lodge is rising with good luck 
 
 and safe from danger. 
 "My Holy Lodge is rising with good luck 
 
 and safe from danger." 
 
 Then turning around towards the left, 
 following the sun's course, they faced the 
 sunset chanting the same measure twice. 
 272
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 As they descended, the soldiers whis 
 tled with eagle-bone whistles, the signal 
 for raising the pole. No weapon was dis 
 played lest it offend the Sun. 
 
 Eagle Plume spoke again, admonish 
 ing the soldiers to raise the pole quickly 
 for the Sun was about to set, and his wife, 
 the Sacred woman, was famished and 
 foredone. 
 
 A prayer was made to the Sun that each 
 part of the lodge be firmly and fault 
 lessly constructed so that no evil should 
 befall the hands that erected it. The cen 
 ter pole swung slowly into position, but 
 before it was fixed in the ground it swayed 
 and tottered and leaned towards the Owl 
 Brave. All eyes turned upon him. This, 
 also, foreboded disaster and death. 
 
 By means of the thong-bound poles, the 
 soldiers raised the timbers into place and 
 the sides were banked with foliage. 
 
 The Tall Pine was growing weak and 
 faint, though her religious ecstasy still 
 strengthened her spirit. For four days 
 she had tasted no food; for four days no 
 
 273
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 water save one clam-shell full mixed with 
 earth, which had been given her just be 
 fore sunrise and after sunset, had passed 
 her lips. And all the while she had re 
 mained in the sacred tipi praying to the 
 Sun to allow no drop of rain to fall and 
 belie her virtue. Her prayers had been 
 answered. The sky remained blue and 
 the few scattered clouds that had winged 
 their way above the rim of the horizon, 
 had drifted away beneath the magic of 
 Wolf Medicine's eagle-bone whistle, with 
 never a hint of rain. Her sacrifice and 
 fast were complete. Revered by her peo 
 ple, proved worthy by the Sun test, she 
 sat down in the sacred tipi and ate. 
 
 The Sun sank, flinging his last, rose- 
 gold streamers from out the mystery of 
 space beyond the mountains. The Medi 
 cine Lodge, a verdant thing, symbolical 
 of the blooming earth, resplendent with 
 green branches and tender leaves, stood 
 against the evening sky and the sun-glow 
 flowing through it, hallowed it as if by a 
 sign divine. 
 
 274
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE White Quiver waited on the 
 summit of Ne-nas-ta-ko, the 
 Chief Mountain, for the coming 
 of Spotted Horse and his Kootenais. He 
 never doubted the good faith of the chief, 
 though the Moon of Flowers, the time 
 named for his arrival, was at the full. 
 From this mountain-top where he had 
 encountered the Wind-God, he watched 
 the west country, but two suns rose and 
 set and only mists and cloud-shadows 
 drifted across the yellow-green levels be 
 low. 
 
 The White Quiver was strangely se 
 rene, for in his heart he knew that his 
 friend would soon be with him. Mean 
 time he watched and dreamed. It seemed 
 to him that he looked down on the world 
 from some coldly ethereal star and the 
 275
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 sky was less remote than the earth. 
 Clouds drifted far beneath his feet. On 
 either hand the world fell away in vast 
 declivities. To the sunrise twilight had 
 already fallen, it was a scene in dim 
 blues and glorious purples. But to the 
 west the sun hung in a ball of flaming 
 red among gilded vapors, sending out 
 broad shafts of ruddy light. In the val 
 leys and ravines, seas of violet haze rolled 
 away to the rim of the horizon where 
 other ranges dim and distant seemed 
 ephemeral cloud-shadows like those that 
 trod the prairie with fleeting purple steps. 
 Between the rolling blue sea of vapor and 
 the paler blue of heaven, flowed a tide 
 of red-gold light, touching each moun 
 tain peak, each tiny twinkling lake, until 
 they flashed like jewels out of the dusk. 
 
 So the sunsets shadowed into nights and 
 the nights paled into days until the morn 
 ing of the second day. Then from his 
 eyrie on the mountain-top the White 
 Quiver looked down into the pulsing tide 
 of amethyst haze, where flakes of mist 
 276
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 floated like white caps on the waves of 
 the sea. Through the drifting blue some 
 thing flashed and was lost. Again it ap 
 peared, bright as a vagrant sunbeam. 
 He watched intently. It was the flash of 
 arms! Little by little a vast column, 
 glittering, multicolored as a bright- 
 scaled serpent, glided out of the blue mys 
 tery of the distance into the brilliant white 
 light of open day. It approached and 
 grew and shaped itself into an army of 
 horses and men. The Kootenai legions 
 had come. He watched them swing over 
 hilltops, descend and disappear behind 
 timbered slopes to emerge with greater 
 proportion and fresh detail as they drew 
 nearer. It was a splendid pageant to 
 look upon. The sun darts illuminated 
 the gay colors of the warriors' costumes 
 and touched their spears and accoutre 
 ments with glancing flames of reflected 
 light. On they came and as they neared 
 the rendezvous, the White Quiver built a 
 signal fire to let Spotted Horse know that 
 he had kept faith. He saw a party of 
 277
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Piegan warriors ride out to meet the 
 Mountain People. 
 
 He waited through the long day and 
 at last Spotted Horse joined him on the 
 crest of the mountain. 
 
 They embraced with the affection of 
 brothers. At first their tongues spoke lit 
 tle, but their eyes met and each friend 
 knew that the other was true. As long 
 as daylight lasted they broke the silence 
 only to discuss trivial things; the journey 
 of the Kootenais; how they had delayed 
 on account of good hunting. Spotted 
 Horse reported a cold winter and the loss 
 of many horses, and consequently, num 
 bers of his young men had come afoot 
 which also caused delay. He had with 
 him not only his own tribe but a large 
 band of Selish, a gentle folk living in 
 the mild and beautiful valley of the Bit 
 ter Root. But with the shades of night, 
 after the fire-glow painted the rocks crim 
 son, the reserve of daytime left their 
 hearts bare and their thoughts found ut 
 terance. They smoked long together, in- 
 278
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 haling the sweet fumes of I'herb and 
 watched the white ghosts of smoke writhe 
 and drift in a fantastic dance. 
 
 "And the Dawn Mist has never been 
 found?" asked Spotted Horse suddenly. 
 
 "No. . . . Her mother, the Tall Pine 
 is fasting to build a Medicine Lodge for 
 her recovery." 
 
 Spotted Horse asked and heard anew 
 the story of her abduction. He pondered 
 long and silently before he answered: 
 
 "Something in my heart tells me that 
 the maid was stolen by one of your own 
 tribe. Was there another who desired 
 her?" 
 
 "Yes! The Owl Brave." 
 
 Cold sweat covered the White Quiver's 
 body and he trembled. 
 
 Could it be that he and the rest had 
 been burrowing in the dark like moles, 
 while she had been a prisoner almost un 
 der their stumbling feet? 
 
 The two men talked long and earnestly 
 and as they spoke the white rim of the 
 moon rose and living forms of mountain, 
 279
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 lake and tree appeared out of the gloom. 
 A more ethereal day of purple shades and 
 pearly lights reigned over the sleeping 
 earth. 
 
 The White Quiver sprang up erect with 
 purpose. 
 
 "I put myself in your hands. 
 
 "I will obey you as a child obeys his 
 father," he said. 
 
 They swore absolute secrecy. Not even 
 Eagle Plume should know their sus 
 picions. 
 
 The moonlight shone on the White 
 Quiver's face and revealed the quickened 
 hope that animated every feature and 
 showed in each movement of his agile 
 body. 
 
 When they had done speaking he 
 looked questioningly at the stars. The 
 Last Brother pointed to the horizon and 
 he knew that the night was old. 
 
 "The dawn will bring the great day 
 and we must go," he said. "Follow me, 
 I will lead you safely." 
 
 They wrapped their robes around them 
 280
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and began the descent, now emerging in 
 moonlit spaces of pale, blue-white light, 
 then passing into the shadowy darkness 
 of the night. They crossed glittering 
 threads of streams, cold snow-drifts, 
 poised precariously along the brinks of 
 black abysses, spurred on, driven by one 
 mastering idea. The White Quiver was 
 like one with winged feet as he flew on 
 ward with the resistless force of the north 
 wind. Sometimes Spotted Horse paused 
 to rest and breathe; sometimes he hesi 
 tated, half-fearful at the unseen menace 
 of hidden depths, but he said nothing and 
 followed the silent shadow of the flying 
 figure ahead. Like two phantoms they 
 flitted downward, onward, and the moon 
 set and the east thrilled and quickened and 
 it was light. 
 
 At length ghostly lodges showed 
 through the dim twilight and they knew 
 that they had come to their journey's end. 
 
 281
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 IN the history of the plains Indians 
 there had never been a more magnifi 
 cent spectacle than this encampment 
 The Blackfeet were full twelve thousand 
 lodges strong and the allied Kootenais and 
 Selish were in themselves a formidable 
 force. 
 
 Spotted Horse and the White Quiver 
 paused to look down on this tented city 
 of the plains. The early morning air was 
 mellow with odors breathed from the 
 dew-drenched earth. Bursting into view 
 in the first forerunning flush of sunrise 
 were myriads of lodges. Suddenly as the 
 "dusty stars" of the prairie, there had 
 sprung up a vast encampment like the 
 resting legions of a mighty army. The 
 shadows dwindled and thinned. The 
 light deepened into a crimson flush, strik 
 ing the icy mountain crests that flashed 
 282
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 back the dawn signal, running quick sil 
 ver-bright along the streams and illumi 
 nating the tipis whose cones lessened into 
 the pigmy likeness of ant-hills in murky 
 distances. A wonderful welter of 
 gorgeously colored detail flamed out of 
 the twilight and revelled in the sun as it 
 cleared the horizon and reigned supreme 
 in the sky. The huge double circle of 
 the Piegan camp with painted tipis of 
 many colors and strange devices lay just 
 below them. These lodges bore the in 
 signia or picture-record of their owners 
 and the symbols of their medicine. Yon 
 der was the azure cone of the Blue Thun 
 der Lodge and near by the Otter Lodge 
 with a design of otters, one behind the 
 other, extending around its entire circum 
 ference. The rainbow tipi was arched 
 with a tri-color representing the Thunder 
 Chief roping in the storm. The bison 
 lodge was painted with buffalo skulls and 
 horns and there were countless others, 
 each with its tutelary emblem. In spite 
 of the variety of color and cabalistic sign 
 283
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 all had certain characteristics in common. 
 One of these was a dark band around the 
 base, the sign of Sach-kum, the Mother 
 Earth, sown with pale discs, the "dusty 
 stars" or puffballs which are meteors 
 from heaven. At the tip of each cone was 
 another band, symbolical of the sky. In 
 this field were depicted the Sun and 
 Moon, a cross for the Morning Star and 
 his messenger, the butterfly who is the 
 Sleep-Bringer; the Seven Brothers, the 
 Lost Children and many other of the stel 
 lar constellations. In the space between 
 the earth and sky symbols was wrought the 
 device of the tipi. 
 
 Among that thick-sown multitude it 
 was easy to distinguish the dwelling of 
 Eagle Plume by its greater size, its Medi 
 cine, a red eagle looking at the Sun, and 
 its position facing the door-way of the 
 dawn. Near the splendid abode of the 
 Great Chief was an humble little lodge, 
 bearing the simple device of a snow-white 
 quiver on a background of dull brown. 
 
 It was an heroic and impressive picture 
 284
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 framed by overshadowing mountains and 
 arched by the limitless blue that arrested 
 the vision of the Mountain Chief, Spotted 
 Horse, and made him rejoice that the Pie- 
 gans were friends rather than foes. 
 
 The camp was already astir. Spirals 
 of thin smoke floated from kindling fires 
 and hung lazily in the still air. Blank 
 eted women carried water in buffalo 
 paunch bags from the stream and young 
 men were fetching horses from pasture 
 in the hills. Though every move was 
 quiet and orderly there was the tension 
 of suppressed excitement. This was the 
 day of that carnival of great deeds when 
 warriors would count coups in the Medi 
 cine Lodge. Upon this occasion the cere 
 monial was fraught with extraordinary in 
 terest. During the past twelve moons 
 strange things had happened. The 
 White Quiver and the Owl Brave must 
 settle a score of deadly hate. Each must 
 unbosom himself unreservedly, truthfully 
 in the presence of the Sun. 
 
 Out of the dawn sounded the throbbing 
 
 285
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 of drums, broken snatches of song and the 
 loud, authoritative cry of heralds, the 
 mouthpieces of the Medicine men, or 
 dering the tardy to make haste and an 
 nouncing the events of the day. 
 
 The two friends bathed in an icy 
 stream, clad themselves fittingly and pro 
 ceeded to the lodge of Eagle Plume, where 
 the White Quiver presented Spotted 
 Horse to the Great Chief. The tribal 
 leaders embraced as brothers. Eagle 
 Plume made the Kootenai Chief a gift of 
 ten horses, a silk buffalo pelt and a rare 
 ancestral relic; Spotted Horse, no less 
 royal in his generosity, gave Eagle Plume 
 a snow-white pony, magnificently capari 
 soned, a bow of polished elk-horn, white 
 bear claws and many fine examples of his 
 people's crafts. 
 
 "You are welcome! 
 
 "My heart feels good towards you and 
 your tribe," said Eagle Plume. "My 
 land is your land, my lodge is your lodge 
 and I smoke with you in friendship which 
 shall endure through every storm like yon- 
 286
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 der mountain who is Chief of the North 
 ern Range." 
 
 The White Quiver acted at once as 
 mediator and interpreter. Through him 
 the ancestral foes were united in friend 
 ship. 
 
 The ceremonial pipe was brought forth, 
 filled with I'herb and in solemn silence 
 the three men breathed deep of its pleas 
 ant smoke, then wafted it like incense to 
 wards the Sun. 
 
 When these courtesies were exchanged, 
 Spotted Horse and the White Quiver re 
 tired each to his own tipi to prepare for 
 the crucial test, the measure of ultimate 
 strength in the Medicine Lodge. 
 
 A weird, treble note sounded with sub 
 tly penetrating insistence, and, as if 
 charmed by the spell of that unearthly 
 music every noise was hushed and the 
 camp listened, breathless. 
 
 It was O-ma-qui-tos, old Wolf Medi 
 cine, and the Sun Dance priests making 
 the circle of the encampment, piping on 
 their magic whistles of eagle-wing bone 
 
 287
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and dancing with the holy inspiration of 
 David, on their way to the Medicine 
 Lodge. 
 
 That consecrated structure, ordained by 
 the Sun and consecrated to his worship, 
 faced the birthplace of the dawn the 
 East. Opposite the entrance was an al 
 cove or altar lined with juniper where the 
 Medicine men would preside. 
 
 As Wolf Medicine and the priests en 
 tered this holy place they announced to 
 the people religiously assembled there, 
 that they would fast for four days. By 
 this it was known that the ceremonies 
 would continue during that time. 
 
 The Medicine men were followed by 
 the Tall Pine, who was hailed with rever 
 ence as the Lodge-Giver, Eagle Plume 
 and their helpers. Places had been re 
 served for them near the center pole to 
 the north of the Sun Altar where the 
 priests sat on sweet pine boughs. The 
 worshipers sat in a compact circle 
 around the lodge. The center was left 
 clear for the different bands of the I-kun- 
 288
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 uh-kah-t'si who would enact hero-stories 
 there. 
 
 Wolf Medicine was stripped bare to 
 the waist and his face, arms and body were 
 painted brilliant yellow. On his fore 
 head was a red disc to represent the Sun, 
 and his cheeks were marked with signs 
 recondite of meaning. He wore a medi 
 cine hat adorned with yellow plumes. 
 Fluttering about his head and shoulders 
 and hanging from his carven whistle were 
 downy, yellow feathers which were a part 
 of his mystical medicine. Tied around 
 his neck and resting on his breast was a 
 disc of shell. Gathered about his loins, 
 hanging half-way down his naked legs 
 was his medicine robe wrought with sym 
 bols of the Rain-roper, the Sun and Moon, 
 the Morning Star, streaked sun-dogs and 
 other figures of unmeasured power. 
 
 Now, one by one, devotees who had 
 fasted, approached the altar and made 
 sun offerings which they presented to the 
 Medicine men with a filled pipe. Some 
 brought sick children or afflicted relatives
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 for whose health and life they prayed. 
 Wolf Medicine accepted these propitia 
 tory gifts in the name of the Sun, and 
 painted and blessed the givers thereof. 
 
 He stood, rapt, apart, possessed of ter 
 rible spiritual frenzy, his eyes fixed un 
 flinchingly on the burning sun, his arms 
 raised above his head. He made strange 
 signs and incantations as he danced with 
 a curiously monotonous upward spring to 
 the tune of his own shill piping, facing 
 first to the east and then to the west. 
 
 The bands of the I-kun-uh-kah-t'si en 
 tered, dressed in their society costumes. 
 They hung their shields and weapons on 
 the center pole and sat in rows. 
 
 The Owl Brave headed the Mosquitoes. 
 
 Spotted Horse, who was the honored 
 guest, came in with the White Quiver and 
 sat at his right. 
 
 There was a stir among the people and 
 a concentrated flash of eyes first at the Owl 
 Brave, then at the White Quiver and his 
 friend. 
 
 The ceremonies proceeded. 
 290
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Warriors fulfilled their vows and 
 danced the terrible torture dance around 
 the center pole, with rawhide thongs tied 
 to skewers which were run through the 
 flesh of their bleeding breasts. 
 
 The Medicine Lodge was many-sided 
 in its purpose. First of all it was the 
 Temple of the Sun where He, the Great 
 Mystery, the Master of Life, vouchsafed 
 to hear his mortal children's prayers. 
 But it was more than this. It was 
 also in character and purpose like 
 the arena of ancient Rome. Here tests 
 of manly endurance were made and 
 vows consummated which had been 
 pledged in battle or in the face of im 
 minent 'danger to the Great Spirit for 
 safe deliverance from peril and death. 
 Here the nation's heroes recited their tri 
 umphs before the Highest Power, and 
 with their society comrades enacted the 
 dramatic stories of the war-path. From 
 these life-dramas the warriors were 
 judged and the Great Chief chosen from 
 amongst them, for next to the occult wor- 
 291
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ship of the Sun was hero-worship with its 
 barbaric love of great deeds done and vic 
 tories achieved through puissance and 
 contempt of death. Here, too, the un 
 tried youths came to receive inspiration 
 that upon maturity they might emulate 
 the example of their fathers. 
 
 Eagle Plume was first to count coups. 
 His subjects listened intently to the story 
 of his splendid career. They had heard 
 it now for many summers, and each year 
 bearing its fruit of fresh adventure, left 
 him as he had been since the famous fight 
 in the Cypress hills, first warrior, noblest 
 of heart and Head Chief of the allied 
 tribes of the Blackfeet nation. But this 
 time there were new lines on his noble 
 face, he was less lithe and quick and in his 
 black hair was a sprinkling of white, be 
 tokening an early coming of the winter of 
 life. 
 
 He closed his story amid a din of war- 
 cries, clashing of rattles and the beating 
 of drums. Gifts were made to him and 
 he. in turn, presented them to the Sun. 
 292
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The Lord of the Universe rose and set 
 upon three days and still the drama of 
 the Medicine Lodge proceeded uninter 
 rupted. 
 
 During the whole time the White 
 Quiver and Spotted Horse sat together in 
 separable as brothers. The Kootenai 
 chief wished to honor his friend publicly 
 in the eyes of all the tribes present and to 
 acknowledge the young Piegan as a man 
 of superior strength who had generously 
 spared his life. 
 
 The coming of Spotted Horse had a 
 wonderful effect upon those who had 
 jeered at the White Quiver's version of 
 his journey to the Kootenai land. His 
 presence was proof of the young chief's 
 claims and Eagle Plume took care to an 
 nounce that it was the White Quiver and 
 none other who had secured peace between 
 the contending nations and a compact 
 which might be of everlasting benefit. 
 
 The eight braves who had deserted the 
 White Quiver and proved traitors, in de 
 fence of their own honor, went over to 
 
 293
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 the rival band of the Mosquitoes of which 
 the Owl Brave was chief. These men and 
 the Owl Brave, himself, were chagrined 
 at the good faith of Spotted Horse and the 
 sudden high esteem into which the White 
 Quiver had sprung. They determined to 
 make a last desperate stand against him in 
 their society ceremony in the Medicine 
 Lodge. 
 
 The attention of the whole tribe was 
 fixed on the Owl Brave and the White 
 Quiver. All knew of the deadly feud 
 between them and with breath-quickening 
 interest the spectators awaited the moment 
 when these enemies must measure their 
 mettle in the arena. 
 
 On the fourth and last day the Mos 
 quitoes were in possession of the field. 
 Three Moons entered the sacred circle. 
 The drums struck up a quick tattoo. Two 
 beat loudly with rattles on a hide, and the 
 air reverberated with the quavering treble 
 of a chant. 
 
 Three Moons was a comedian and he 
 filled his acting with ridiculous, mirth- 
 294
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 provoking antics which set people laugh 
 ing. Still, beneath the laughter was tense 
 excitement. 
 
 What would he say of the White Quiv 
 er's journey? Would he dare assail the 
 young chief's honor in the presence of 
 Spotted Horse? 
 
 Three Moons adroitly evaded the issue. 
 His story was a burlesque and he was a 
 clown. 
 
 He knew that on the one hand he was 
 under the surveillance of his new master 
 and on the other hand the White Quiver's 
 lancing gaze never left him. Therefore 
 he played the buffoon. 
 
 While he cut capers and made grim 
 aces, a shadow fell, ever so slight and thin 
 upon the world, yet no cloud marred the 
 infinite blue of heaven. 
 
 The Owl Brave followed Three 
 Moons. 
 
 A low, long sigh soughed from the 
 breasts of the watchers. That was all. 
 No word was spoken. Not an eagle 
 feather stirred. 
 
 295
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The shadow fell a little deeper. 
 
 As he began the recital of his life-his 
 tory in a loud, bold voice, he turned his 
 back resolutely upon the White Quiver 
 but in spite of himself he caught the ter 
 rible challenge of his enemy's eyes, and 
 as their fire burnt into his heart and 
 branded it, the speeches he had carefully 
 planned, the dare-devil bravado, the scorn 
 and sarcasm he would have dealt out un 
 mercifully to his foe; the spectacular pan 
 tomime he had practiced in jealously 
 guarded solitude, were forgotten. He 
 faltered. His followers, headed by 
 Three Moons, gave the war-cry furiously 
 in a desperate attempt to rouse him. If 
 he should break down, all was lost 
 
 He rallied and continued until he came 
 to that part of his narrative where he must 
 tell of his expedition in search of the 
 Dawn Mist. He hesitated a moment, 
 then began to recount the detail of his ad 
 ventures; how he had followed the slight 
 est trace of her all in vain. 
 
 And as he spoke, as if to belie him, that 
 296
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 subtle shadow from the cloudless sky be 
 came deeper and darker and more sinis 
 ter. Birds "began to flutter to rest in the 
 trees and people whispered, fearfully: 
 
 "The Sun is angry. He hides his 
 facer 
 
 The orb of day, the Sun-God for whose 
 worship these ceremonies were given, 
 faded and dimmed into a dull-red coal 
 that burnt rayless as a dead planet in the 
 unimpeachable blue of heaven. 
 
 The Owl Brave articulated with diffi 
 culty. He stopped, looked desperately 
 about him with the fear of God in his 
 craven heart and dropped heavily to earth 
 as if felled by an unseen blow. 
 
 Consternation reigned in the Medicine 
 Lodge. His friends insisted that he had 
 been taken suddenly sick. 
 
 But why did the Sun hide his face? 
 
 It was surely an augury that boded 
 ill. 
 
 The White Quiver, turning to Spotted 
 Horse, said in a low voice: 
 
 "The Sun-God is his accuser!" 
 297
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The Owl Brave became conscious again 
 and took his place with his band follow 
 ers, his narrative unfinished. 
 
 The enveloping shadow which had 
 changed mid-day into untimely dusk, 
 lifted as gradually as it had come. 
 
 Wolf Medicine, with frenzied fervor, 
 had been praying and piping all the while 
 for the restoration of light and very slowly 
 the gold filtered through the gloom and 
 a burnished rim showed at the edge of the 
 Sun. 
 
 The afternoon advanced. It was broad 
 day again. The Mad Dogs were now in 
 possession of the Medicine Lodge and 
 with their counting of coups the Sun 
 Dance ceremonial would end. 
 
 First came the old men who were long 
 of speech and fond of enlarging on the 
 brave events of their youth which by an 
 inverse perspective, increased in impor 
 tance as the years of their activity were 
 farther removed by age. The younger 
 generation had heard these self-same tales 
 from childhood, but they listened with re- 
 298
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 spectful interest as they had two score 
 winters before. 
 
 The long, warm, mid-summer after 
 noon drew towards its close, the moun 
 tains grew deeper purple and a topaz 
 glow mellowed the still atmosphere. 
 Little children began to fret and cry and 
 patient mothers hushed and rocked and 
 nursed them at their breasts. People 
 were growing weary and a lethargy was 
 settling over them. 
 
 The White Quiver was called. 
 
 At once there was a stir of fresh inter 
 est. 
 
 He stepped into the circle and hung his 
 shield and spear upon the center pole. 
 
 He was stripped bare to the waist save 
 for the snow-white quiver slung across his 
 back which scarcely concealed the scars 
 over his shoulder blades. He wore a bon 
 net of war-eagle feathers, buckskin leg- 
 gins, a belt and sheath for his knife, 
 beaded moccasins and a necklace of white 
 shells, his love token from the Dawn 
 Mist. Of all the warriors who had 
 299
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 counted coups in the Medicine Lodge, 
 there was none so simply clad as he. He 
 had no devoted mother, sister, or wife to 
 make fine raiment for him. Yet every 
 eye was fixed on him with respect and 
 even his enemies reluctantly admired the 
 magnificent form, hard and strong and 
 perfect of proportion, which was the key 
 to the man's character. The White 
 Quiver had kept his body inviolate and 
 pure and he had spared no travail or hard 
 ship to gain the perfect physical devel 
 opment that was equalled by no young 
 man of the tribe. 
 
 He removed his war-eagle bonnet and 
 handed it to Wolf Medicine. One by one 
 his other possessions followed until he had 
 left but his quiver and the necklace of 
 shells. His tipi, his pony, everything he 
 owned, he gave to the High Priest as his 
 offering to the Sun. The White Quiver 
 had beggared himself. 
 
 He stood silent for a long moment by 
 the center pole, his arms folded over his 
 breast, his head bent in meditation. The 
 300
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 evening sun enveloped him in an aureole 
 of gold, illuminating every swell of mus 
 cle and curve of limb. 
 
 He raised his eyes and his right hand 
 to the declining orb which shone full upon 
 him as though its searching beams would 
 lay bare his soul. 
 
 "The Sun God looks down on me. 
 
 "He sees my heart and he knows I speak 
 the truth!" 
 
 After an impressive pause he spoke 
 again, very slowly, in measured tones, as 
 if weighing well every word he uttered. 
 
 He said: 
 
 "When my father, the war chief, Clear 
 Water, died in the Moon when the leaves 
 turn yellow and the geese fly south, he 
 spoke to me and his words were these: 
 'Listen, for I have seen the days. I have 
 lived long and now I am going to the 
 Great White Desert where my spirit 
 friends await me. In my youth I have 
 taken many scalps and stolen many horses 
 but I have given to those who were poorer 
 than I, until I, myself am poor, I give 
 301
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 you my Medicine Bundle, my bonnet of 
 war-eagle feathers, and I charge you to 
 go on the war-path and find the Pinto 
 Pony, which is my great Medicine. That 
 I give to you also and the memory of my 
 name which you will never dishonor. 
 
 'If you pledge yourself to a quest be 
 true to it even if your life is the price. 
 Fear no man. Be clean of body and soul. 
 Forget not that the Great Mystery in the 
 Sun looks down on you and sees your 
 heart, and keep nothing there of which 
 you are ashamed. . . . 
 
 'If you remember these things when at 
 last you pass to the Great White Desert 
 as I am passing, you will go peacefully 
 as a child in its mother's arms, who an 
 swers the call of the Sleep Bringer, the 
 butterfly from the Morning Star.' 
 
 "These words live in my heart. I say 
 them to you now because my life has been 
 but the shadow cast by the light of their 
 wisdom." 
 
 The White Quiver told briefly of the 
 pilgrimage to Chief Mountain and his ad- 
 302
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 venture there, the meeting with the 
 Wind-God and the miraculous capture of 
 the Pinto horse. He described the great 
 hunt, his wild ride, the pursuit of the 
 white buffalo and the mysterious arrows 
 that had followed him. At this point he 
 paused and turned towards the Owl Brave 
 who was idly tracing figures on the 
 ground. 
 
 Not a breath stirred. People sat mo 
 tionless as stone, riveted with interest in 
 tense. 
 
 He continued the narrative rapidly, but 
 still in low, even tones describing how he 
 rode for his life towards the butte with 
 the arrows obeying the projection of a 
 murderous aim, always following him, un 
 til he was struck and wounded. He 
 pointed to the scar. He enacted the kill 
 ing of the white buffalo cow, his return 
 in triumph and his offer of the Pinto Pony 
 and the sacred white hide to Eagle Plume 
 in return for the Dawn Mist. He re 
 lated the bloody event of the war party 
 he had led towards the Kootenai country; 
 
 303
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 recounted dispassionately but relentlessly 
 his desertion by the eight faint-hearted 
 braves, and his solitary journey to the pass 
 across the range. 
 
 At a signal the Kootenai chief joined 
 him in the arena and they enacted the 
 conflict on the mountain amid the storm. 
 
 The tom-toms pealed like thunder. 
 Loud and sibilant and shrill rose the war- 
 cry, when, at this climax, the White 
 Quiver disarmed Spotted Horse, then 
 spared his life. 
 
 "Now tell them with your lips what 
 you told me," the White Quiver cried, ad 
 dressing the Kootenai Chief. 
 
 Spotted Horse lifted his hand to the 
 sun and looking upward, said: 
 
 "Hear me. I speak the truth. 
 
 "Your god looks down and sees me and 
 he is my witness. 
 
 "My heart feels warm towards you. 
 
 "I want to help you as one brother 
 helps another. 
 
 "Now I swear to you in this Holy 
 Place that the Dawn Mist was not stolen 
 
 304
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 by me nor by any of my people. Neither 
 was the Pinto Pony. Neither was the 
 white buffalo hide. 
 
 "If I lie may I drop dead!" 
 
 His words were rendered into the Pie- 
 gan tongue by a disinterested interpreter. 
 
 Spotted Horse ceased and took his po 
 sition at the right hand of the White 
 Quiver, who continued: 
 
 "Because Spotted Horse is a man of 
 honor and swore to me as he has this 
 day to you, that the Dawn Mist was not 
 in his lodges, I returned and was called a 
 madman or a coward." 
 
 Fire like lightning flashed in his eyes. 
 Sweat streamed from his brow; the thews 
 stood out hard and tense as bars of steel 
 beneath the flesh. 
 
 "I came back. My heart was dead. I 
 was laughed at, reviled. I determined to 
 go on the war-path and kill until I found 
 her or was myself killed. But the Great 
 Spirit shed light on my ignorance. He 
 gave my eyes new sight; my brain new 
 wisdom. 
 
 305
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "The Dawn Mist was stolen by a 
 damned traitor among our own people!" 
 
 He flashed like a thunderbolt upon the 
 Owl Brave, pointed a branding finger at 
 him and cried: 
 
 "Owl Brave I accuse you! If I lie my 
 life is yours! We will fight outside the 
 Medicine Lodge and the people shall 
 judge between us!" 
 
 The multitude was in an uproar. 
 There was the din of many voices like the 
 unleashed tempest or breakers in a storm. 
 
 The ceremonies came to an abrupt and 
 dramatic end. 
 
 When a speech could be heard here 
 and there, it was evident that there were 
 furious partisans on both sides. Some 
 shouted that the White Quiver had gone 
 mad ; others that he was right. 
 
 Above the discordant clamor and con 
 fusion of contending tongues, the surging 
 and swaying of the crowd that had be 
 come a mob, the White Quiver heard 
 Wolf Medicine's voice peal out clear and 
 strong, saying: 
 
 306
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "White Quiver, beloved of the Sun, I 
 name you Chief among Chiefs!" 
 
 Spotted Horse stayed close to his friend, 
 his hand clasping the hilt of his knife, 
 ready to defend him if it need be. 
 
 Shoulder to shoulder they struggled 
 through the heaving throng, to where the 
 Owl Brave had been. He was no longer 
 there. 
 
 "Let the traitor come out and fight! 
 Where is he?" the White Quiver cried. 
 
 None could answer. 
 
 The Owl Brave had fled. 
 
 307
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 WITH the accusation of the 
 White Quiver ringing in his 
 ears, the Owl Brave fled, obey 
 ing the wild, brute instinct of a tracked 
 and hunted thing. He had no thought for 
 the future. The curse of Na-to-si, the 
 Sun-God, was upon him and he flew 
 blindly, impotently, seeking a lair in 
 which to escape the vengeance that was 
 overtaking him. He beat onward, in 
 stinctively guiding his course towards a 
 certain cavern in the mountains where the 
 evil genius, Ky-O, might shield him with 
 spells and magic. He had lost track of 
 the rising and setting of suns when, one 
 evening, he staggered up to the low en 
 trance of the cave. 
 
 A small tipi was pitched near by, cun 
 ningly concealed behind a screen of trees. 
 From the opening at its top a thin spiral 
 308
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 of smoke rose against the twilight sky. 
 Ky-O was gathering pine cones and resin 
 ous sticks for kindlings when she caught 
 sight of him. He started at the sound of 
 her thin, shrill voice. 
 
 They spoke together in whispers, he re 
 lating the events of the Medicine Lodge 
 and she muttering again and again, be 
 tween her fangs: 
 
 "Bad Medicine ! Bad Medicine !" 
 
 "You! You with your powers and your 
 magic, must shield me." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and gib 
 bered at him. 
 
 "What have you to give? To make 
 medicine takes strength and I am old, old 
 and poor." 
 
 "O! damned she-bear," he cried, clinch 
 ing his fists, "you have robbed me. You 
 suck my blood, devour me, pick me bone 
 from bone and ask for more!" 
 
 She stooped and began gathering fag 
 gots again. 
 
 A low, quavering moan sounded 
 through the evening quiet. It was at 
 309
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 once faint and vibrant, illusive and insist 
 ent. 
 
 "Where is she?" he asked. 
 
 The hag pointed towards the cavern. 
 
 Darkness was thickening about them. 
 The stars kindled in the sky and the world 
 was purple-clothed in shade. 
 
 Presently the shadow of a human being 
 stood in the black hole leading into the 
 cave. It was a woman, or the ghost of 
 one, gaunt and spectral, white with the 
 ghastly pallor of things that know not the 
 sunlight and the vitalizing air of day. 
 As she stood there half-hidden by the twi 
 light, her great, black, restless eyes burn 
 ing in her deathly face, she seemed more 
 of illusion than reality, a mere fantastic 
 mist-shape forming but to dissolve in air. 
 The faint, insistent moan sounded cease 
 lessly from her parted lips. She stepped 
 forward uncertainly and as the pale star 
 light filtered down and touched her face 
 it was plain that she was mad. She 
 walked as one who sleeps or as a ghost 
 newly risen from the grave might glide 
 310
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 timidly out into the world again to visit 
 its life-time haunts. 
 
 The Owl Brave had concealed himself 
 as she approached but as though drawn 
 by a spell she followed him and stood 
 over him and as her shifting eyes fell 
 upon him she shrieked: 
 
 "You! You again! Only you. Where 
 is he whom they call the White Quiver?" 
 
 Then she laughed horribly and he 
 shuddered in terror and shrank away. 
 
 In that wild outbreak her face under 
 went a terrible change and she bore a 
 striking resemblance to the Night Wind 
 as he was in his wildest moments. 
 
 The Owl Brave and Ky-O led her 
 struggling and chafing back into the 
 prison-cave where the wolf-dog kept 
 watch. Her frenzy grew until she 
 sank exhausted, unconscious in a heap 
 upon the damp earth, a quivering, pal 
 pitating wreck, the merest ghostly shadow 
 of the Dawn Mist. 
 
 They watched her a moment by the 
 smoldering firelight, then departed.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 "She grows worse," Ky-O whispered. 
 "The spells come oftener and last longer. 
 In one of them she will die." 
 
 "What will you do to save me?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "To save you? Nothing I Know you 
 not that the White Quiver would give me 
 his all, yes, down to his last bead of 
 wampum, to find out what I could tell? 
 My silence is enough. I am done with 
 you. Sick of the whole foul bargain. 
 Do you not think I am weary of being 
 keeper of yonder mad thing. I helped 
 you steal the Dawn Mist, showed you 
 the way and was your slave. You have 
 cheated me. You have not the honor to 
 keep faith with me. Where are the pelts, 
 where is the buffalo meat, where are the 
 ponies you promised me?" 
 
 He cursed her and laid his hand on the 
 hilt of his knife. The wolf-dog snarled 
 and showed his sharp, white teeth. 
 
 "Be gone!" she cried, shaken with 
 rage. "You dare not strike me! You 
 have the white heart of a coward. Venge- 
 312
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 ance is overtaking you, Owl Brave! I 
 have had a dream. It was a strong 
 dream. I saw you lying in your own 
 blood and you were cold beneath the 
 moon! 
 
 "I knew you would come! 
 
 "I have killed striped-face, the badger, 
 and filled his hide with his blood. 
 Look into it and see if my dream is true 
 or if it lies. If you are to live to old age 
 you will see yourself white-haired; if you 
 are to die of disease you will see yourself 
 wasted to the bone, and if you are to be 
 killed you will see yourself without your 
 scalp." 
 
 She led him into the lodge where she 
 had dug a shallow hole, stretched and 
 pinned down a badger's hide filled with 
 the creature's blood mixed with a little 
 charcoal. The smooth, red surface 
 formed a perfect mirror. The Owl 
 Brave was loath to obey, yet mastered by 
 the desire to penetrate the secrets of the 
 future and learn his fate, he crouched 
 low, bent over and looked. Ky-O leaned 
 313
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 at his shoulder. He took one swift, ter 
 rified glance then jumped up with a cry. 
 
 He had seen himself 'without his 
 scalp! 
 
 "The dream is true!" Ky-O shrilled in 
 his ear. "You will lie in your blood be 
 neath the moon as I saw you. May coy 
 otes eat your flesh! May your spirit 
 dwell in the Great Darkness!" 
 
 He plunged off in the night with the 
 ominous prophecy in his ears, driven 
 from his last shelter, a fugitive, shunned 
 by men and cursed by the gods. 
 
 As he leaped headlong in his flight, a 
 coyote sprang up and crossed his path, 
 which, as everyone knows is a sign of im 
 pending disaster. He stopped, afraid, 
 and looked back. As he did so he fancied 
 he saw silhouetted against the blackness 
 of the cavern, in the place where Ky-O 
 had stood a moment before, the monster 
 figure of a grizzly bear. 
 
 314
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE young men of the Kootenai 
 and Selish tribes were growing 
 restless. They had joined the 
 Piegan youths in a series of dances and 
 gambling games but now that the time 
 was approaching to break camp and cross 
 the range to their own country they 
 thought of the long, hard march which, 
 by reason of the scarcity of horses, many 
 of them must make afoot, and conse 
 quently they became sullen and discon 
 tented. The Medicine Lodge had been 
 a splendid festival but it was past and the 
 young braves longed for excitement. 
 Perhaps some of the old ancestral hatred 
 of their whilom foes lingered in their 
 hearts. In any event they chafed under 
 the restraint imposed upon them by the 
 head chief and like leashed hounds, 
 strained at their bonds. Because Spotted
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 Horse, their leader, had become devoted 
 to the White Quiver was no reason for 
 them to be filled with the same sentiment 
 for these old-time enemies. 
 
 This spirit of mischievous unrest mani 
 fested itself in petty devastation and riot 
 ous pranks. One night the camp was 
 plunged into chaotic uproar because a 
 wild colt had been thrust bodily into 
 a lodge where the occupants were peace 
 fully sleeping. The bucking broncho 
 pulled the dwelling down upon their 
 heads and they rushed out terrified and 
 chagrined. Another time a band of 
 young bloods threw lariats over an old 
 woman's tipi, then rode furiously away at 
 full speed, leaving the dismayed squaw 
 staring blankly at the stars. Sham 
 attacks shocked the quiet with hideous 
 noise and many another wild caper pre 
 cipitated the encampment into boisterous 
 disorder. In spite of the vigilance of the 
 different bands of the I-kun-uh-kah-t'si, 
 whose business it was to maintain order, 
 the offenders escaped, unknown and un- 
 316
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 punished. The young Kootenais and 
 Selish yearned silently at first, beneath 
 a mask of smiles, then in covert whispers 
 and at last clamorously, to match their 
 strength against the Piegans at some feat 
 of daring, in brave manly sport or on the 
 war-path. 
 
 The Piegans were no less keen for ex 
 citement. Therefore the youths of the 
 different tribes discussed the matter in se 
 cret. Why not run the ponies for big 
 stakes? Say, for instance, if the Piegans 
 won, they should take all of the Kootenai 
 and Selish ponies, and if on the other 
 hand, the Kootenais and Selish won, they 
 should take possession of the Piegans' 
 horses. 
 
 When the time was ripe a delegation 
 of young Piegans waited upon Eagle 
 Plume and another composed of Selish 
 and Kootenais appeared before Spotted 
 Horse. Both chiefs refused to hear them 
 at first, but the young men were restless 
 and their fighting blood was hot. There 
 was an interval of horrid, breathless quiet 
 
 317
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 through the camp, such as one feels be 
 fore the breaking of a storm. The chiefs 
 held a council and agreed unwillingly 
 that it was better to humor their rash 
 youths in this mad prank rather than risk 
 the possibility of hostility and the rup 
 ture of the new-forged bonds of peace. 
 
 News of the races was proclaimed in 
 every dpi. This was to be no mere run 
 ning of ponies, nor trial of speed alone, 
 but of skill and daring. The course was 
 laid out by representatives of both sides. 
 They chose a narrow, precarious shelf of 
 rock barely wide enough for two horse 
 men to ride abreast, overhanging a gorge. 
 This shelf extended for a mile or more. 
 Each tribe tested its best riders and 
 mounts. The White Quiver was reck 
 oned one of the skillful horsemen of his 
 people but he refused to ride. He knew 
 that these races were in bad faith and he 
 would have no part in them. The Koo- 
 tenais selected a strong, lithe young man 
 for their champion. 
 
 The great day came. Early in the 
 3-8
 
 "THK CIIIKKS IIKI.D A cnrxin. AND AC.KKKD rxwn.i.ixoi.Y 
 
 THAT IT WAS BKTTKK TO IH'MOR TIIKIH HASH YOl -Ml-"
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 were many places along the course where 
 it was impossible for the horses to run 
 side by side and as they approached these 
 narrow vantage points each rider strained 
 every muscle and urged his pony to ut 
 most speed in the effort to reach it and 
 pass on ahead. Often the rotten rock 
 crumbled beneath the flying hoofs and dis 
 lodged pieces of stone fell with a dull 
 boom into the depths below. Still they 
 rushed on resistless as the wind, toward 
 the goal. Sometimes they were lost to 
 the view of the thousand of eyes that fol 
 lowed them and again, they darted into 
 the open and the air shivered with the 
 shock of the war-cry that broke from the 
 lips of those whose champion led. For 
 more than a mile they raced and when, 
 finally, in a white foam of sweat, the 
 ponies plunged to the goal they were 
 abreast. The race was a draw. 
 
 The chiefs were glad. They were ea 
 ger to divide the honors, but the blood 
 of the braves was up. Never should the 
 matter rest as it was. They would choose 
 320
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 new champions and fresh mounts and the 
 next day they would race again. 
 
 The Night Wind had watched the run 
 ning in terrible excitement; he had 
 shrieked with pain when the Piegan fell 
 behind, yelled with barbaric joy when he 
 pushed ahead, and all the while, unmind 
 ful of the distance between him and the 
 rioters he had shouted words of advice. 
 "Bend lower, lower! Now urge him! 
 Check him and give him breath! O! O! 
 you fool!" he had cried in a passion. 
 And when the two opposing racers came 
 in together he wept for chagrin and 
 shame. "If only I had ridden," he said, 
 "we would have won." 
 
 When it was announced that another 
 race would be tried, the Night Wind was 
 chosen for the champion of the Piegans. 
 He was mad, they knew, but he could 
 ride like his brothers, the winds of 
 heaven, and ride he should for the glory 
 of the tribe! The boy was speechless 
 with delight. Sudden dignity and calm 
 possessed him. For the first time in his 
 321
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 blighted life a trust had been imposed 
 upon him, and he promised himself that 
 his people should never be ashamed of 
 their choice. His mother, the Tall Pine, 
 protested against his riding and Eagle 
 Plume remained silent but the Night 
 Wind gloried in this triumph. 
 
 The second day's course was kept se 
 cret. The same delegation from the three 
 tribes mapped it out as before but this 
 time they smiled grimly and said: 
 
 "There will be no draw." 
 
 The day dawned fair and brilliant with 
 sun. Once again the human sea sub 
 merged the prairie. 
 
 A herald rode out, threading his way 
 among the multitude, telling them to di 
 vide into bodies and leave a broad open 
 space for the horses. 
 
 The course was long and devious and 
 difficult. The start was made among 
 some low but rugged hills, thence down 
 over the prairie and it ended at the brink 
 of the gorge! 
 
 A great sigh heaved and died like a 
 322
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 gust of wind, from the breasts of the spec 
 tators, then all was silent again. Plung 
 ing down over the rolling hills came the 
 riders. They were well matched as 
 those of the day before had been, but as 
 they came nearer, the Kootenai, who had 
 the better mount, gained a length on the 
 Night Wind. The boy's long, black hair 
 was streaming behind him, he swayed and 
 bent to the motion of the horse with the 
 agility of a willow-shoot. Yet he was 
 falling behind. It soon became evident 
 to those who knew the trick that he was 
 purposely holding in his horse to give 
 him breath and strength for the final 
 spurt, while his rival was belaboring and 
 exhausting his pony. The people had 
 parted in two solid masses. The course 
 lay smooth and tawny and fair until it 
 stopped abruptly, sharp and clean-cut 
 against the blue. They had passed the 
 last stretch, the finish of the race. Sud 
 denly the Night Wind yelled exultantly, 
 dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, 
 gave him free rein and the animal darted 
 
 323
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 forward like a shooting star. He gained 
 on the Kootenai, who made a last desper 
 ate effort to rouse his jaded mount. The 
 end of the course lay scarcely a stone's 
 throw ahead. The sea of humanity 
 tossed and swayed. Then a dead calm 
 fell. Not a sound was heard but the mad 
 clatter of hoof-beats; not a hawk-plume 
 quivered. The Night Wind was gaining. 
 They were together again, together and 
 the gorge was just ahead! The Koote 
 nai jerked his horse back on its haunches. 
 But the Night Wind never hesitated nor 
 paused. He rose, looked back, smiled 
 so his white teeth flashed, waved a tri 
 umphant hand, shrieked the war-cry of 
 victory and plunged over the precipice. 
 
 The Piegans had won the day and the 
 Night Wind had gone down to his death 
 in the haze-hung depths of the abyss. 
 
 324
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE death of the Night Wind had 
 plunged the Piegans in gloom. 
 The Tall Pine mourned him bit 
 terly. To her his passing was an ill 
 omen from the Great Mystery. Had 
 Na-to-si, the Sun-God, accepted her fast 
 and sacrifice he would not have taken her 
 last remaining comfort, the half-mad, 
 wild-sweet boy with the heart of a child 
 and the years of a man. The wise words 
 of Wolf Medicine, the silent but constant 
 sympathy of her lord, Eagle Plume, failed 
 to lift the cloud that eclipsed her soul. 
 In this hour of trouble she recalled her 
 unjustly cruel words to the White Quiver 
 when he returned alone over the waste 
 of snow. Even as he had gone forth and 
 done and dared to no purpose, so had she 
 made the supreme effort of her life and 
 likewise failed. 
 
 325
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 She sent for the White Quiver and took 
 his hand in hers, which was curiously 
 tense and cold. 
 
 "My son," she said, "you went forth 
 to seek the Dawn Mist and returned 
 alone. I blamed you and flung bitter 
 words of reproach at you. Now I, her 
 mother, who bore her, have fasted and 
 built a Medicine Lodge and the Great 
 Sun Mystery has taken from me my last 
 child in token of anger. I, too have 
 failed, yet I hear no words of blame from 
 you, who love her. Forgive me and call 
 me Ni-kis-ta, your mother!" 
 
 He did as she desired and tried to tell 
 her that all was not yet lost but she would 
 not be comforted. 
 
 Meantime the Kootenais had become 
 sullen over the loss of their ponies and 
 Spotted Horse knew that it was dangerous 
 to detain them longer. 
 
 Eagle Plume and Spotted Horse parted 
 
 with expressions of everlasting friendship. 
 
 Henceforth they should be allies, the one 
 
 as much at home to hunt and camp in the 
 
 326
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 other's country as though it were his own. 
 The White Quiver rode far out over 
 the prairie by the side of his friend to see 
 him on his way. The two chiefs kept 
 apart from the people, speaking softly 
 and earnestly together. At last the gold 
 disc of the sun dropped behind the moun 
 tains, the magic of the afterglow trans 
 figured the world and the White Quiver 
 knew that the time had come when he 
 must part from Spotted Horse. They 
 stood silent, facing each other in the ef 
 fulgent flush of the dying day, looking 
 with soul-penetrating gaze into each oth 
 er's eyes. By some subtle intuition they 
 were conscious that this parting was to 
 be forever. They clasped hands for a 
 moment and knew each other's hearts, 
 then swift as impulse, the White Quiver 
 wheeled about, dug his heels into his 
 pony's side and was off like the whirlwind 
 across the level of the plains. 
 
 327
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 EVERY means had failed to find the 
 Dawn Mist. She was as hope 
 lessly lost as in the moon of her 
 disappearance. But two things they did 
 know; she had not been taken by an 
 enemy of the tribe, though by treachery 
 she might have been delivered into the 
 hands of hostiles, and in some way the 
 Owl Brave was responsible. Had he 
 been innocent he would have accepted the 
 White Quiver's challenge and fought in 
 defence of his honor; as it was he had 
 slunk away like a coyote. 
 
 The White Quiver turned over every 
 little circumstance in his mind and was 
 confused with doubt. Then out of time 
 and distance came the vision of a heaven- 
 reaching peak and the unanswered sum 
 mons of Going-to-the-Sun. 
 
 When he first saw the mighty mountain 
 328
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and fell under its thrall he felt that ul 
 timately he must answer its call. Now 
 he knew that the time was come. Sleep 
 ing and waking the vision of that swell 
 ing blue billow breaking into a white 
 foam of snow against the sky, rose before 
 him, and called to him, called to him in 
 a siren voice: 
 
 "Come! Come with me for I am Go- 
 ing-to-the-Sun!" 
 
 He slept and dreamed that he was 
 starting out on the old quest, to find the 
 Dawn Mist and the Pinto Pony. He was 
 provided with a magical lariat of plaited 
 horsehair. The way before him was 
 golden and long until it melted in the 
 shadow of blue distances. He heard the 
 galloping of hoofs, saw on the yellow- 
 white earth of the prairie prints that were 
 made by none other than the cradle- 
 footed Pinto horse. 
 
 "At last, at last!" he cried, "I have 
 come upon his track and once I overtake 
 him he will bear me to the Dawn Mist." 
 
 And because he was very light-hearted 
 
 3 2 9
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and happy he fell to swinging his lariat 
 in circles over his head and singing lus 
 tily the measure of his war-song. 
 
 "O! I am going to marry the daughter 
 of my Chiefl" 
 
 Suddenly before him stood the Pinto 
 Pony. He cried aloud for joy but as he 
 whirled the noose of his lariat far out to 
 capture the animal, he awoke. 
 
 The dream was vivid and it haunted 
 him and therefore he had made a lariat 
 of horsehair, long and stout and strong. 
 
 With this thrown over his arm, his elk- 
 horn bow and white quiver of arrows on 
 his back, his knife in his belt and a pipe 
 with which to court prophetic dreams, he 
 started out one sunrise. But whither he 
 was going or what was his destination no 
 one knew. 
 
 He scarcely tarried to eat or sleep and 
 make his devotions to the Great Mystery 
 until once more he stood awed and hum 
 bled in the presence of Going-to-the-Sun. 
 
 330
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The ascent was dangerous and steep. 
 Abysses threatened him with black, pur 
 gatorial depths; cliffs smooth as glass 
 mocked him and snow-fields and glaciers 
 lay across his way. He heeded no ob 
 stacles nor halted. His feet seemed to be 
 winged and he soared upward even as the 
 mountain's self until he said exultantly: 
 
 "I, too, am Going to the Sun!" 
 
 He dropped in a swoon and through 
 the solitude the Great Mystery spoke to 
 him, saying: 
 
 "Your search is nearly at an end and 
 you shall be rewarded!" 
 
 When he opened his eyes it was night 
 and he seemed very near the stars. An 
 arctic chill was in the air and about him 
 were ice and snow that never melt. 
 
 In the morning he went down into the 
 world, following no plan but allowing his 
 feet to carry him whither they would. 
 
 "Your search is nearly at an end and 
 you shall be rewarded," kept ringing joy 
 fully in his mind. 
 
 Some greater force than judgment was
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 guiding him and he gave himself up to it, 
 feeling wonderfully light of heart and 
 without responsibility. 
 
 As he' descended to lower altitudes he 
 saw fresh grizzly bear tracks. Again 
 and again they crossed his path and he 
 thought as he stooped to mark the course 
 of the hated beast: 
 
 "Ever and forever crossing every trail 
 of life I travel, every hope my heart bears, 
 is the accursed track of Ky-O." 
 
 The blue-black wing of night spread 
 over the sky, chilling the sunset's flame. 
 The evening star shone brilliantly in the 
 west and the pensive beauty of twilight 
 settled on the world. An owl wheeled 
 noisily among the trees and hooted. The 
 shadows deepened into night. The Wolf 
 Trail, that celestial path that countless 
 centuries of passing spirits have worn 
 across the heavens splashed the black arch 
 of night with the softest filter of light. 
 The horned moon rose up out of the black 
 bar of the horizon and shone on the moun 
 tain-bound waters of the Walled-in Lake. 
 332
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 The White Quiver came down to the 
 shore. He stopped to look at the scene 
 before him wrought in mysterious, dark 
 ling shades of moonlit blue. Over the 
 waters little waves glinting with sil 
 very light danced to the fluting of the 
 evening wind. The twelve sky-cleaving 
 peaks^ awesome with shadow and shim 
 mering with illuminated snow were aus 
 terely beautiful, vast black shadows 
 against the star-dust. Between the 
 infinite darkness overhead and that of 
 the earth beneath was a wonderful, lum 
 inous haze, impalpable as thistledown, yet 
 all-pervading. This was one of those 
 rare nights when one feels that he is on 
 the borderland of the Unknown. Under 
 its spell nothing seemed impossible. The 
 light wind died and a wonderful, vocal 
 stillness lay on the world. The White 
 Quiver waited and listened expectantly, 
 as though the lips of the Infinite were 
 about to open and reveal the eternal mys 
 tery of Life and Death, when, out of the 
 quiet he heard a strange noise of snapping 
 
 333
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 twigs and the rustling of dried leaves. 
 It was a cautious, tentative, stealthy 
 sound. Perhaps the bear, whose hateful 
 tracks had crossed his trail, was hiding 
 in the underbrush. He concealed him 
 self behind a boulder, keeping his eyes 
 fixed on a clump of the fateful ghost- 
 trees, whence the sound seemed to come. 
 Profound silence fell in which he heard 
 insects shrilling reedily and the mourn 
 ful cry of a loon. The seconds dragged 
 heavily. His heart pounded furiously 
 against his breast yet he knew not why. 
 His limbs cramped under him but he did 
 not move. After a long while the same 
 cautious, suppressed sound stirred again. 
 The matted branches parted, a human 
 figure, half-crouching, slid out and the 
 moonlight betrayed the gaunt and haunted 
 face of the Owl Brave. 
 
 With the deadly-certain leap of a moun 
 tain lion the White Quiver was upon him. 
 Their bodies clinched in the awful in 
 timacy of the death grip. They writhed 
 and swayed and strained until the sweat 
 
 334
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 dripped and their muscles hardened and 
 set like flint. Out of the silence sounded 
 the harsh noise of scuffling feet and the 
 quick, whistling breath of the struggling 
 men. Against the silvered-blue night the 
 two black figures showed, bending, sway 
 ing in terrible rhythm. Back and forth 
 they lurched and strained, dogged and 
 unyielding. The White Quiver was the 
 larger and stronger, but the Owl Brave 
 was fighting for his life. With a quick 
 motion the White Quiver tripped him 
 and he fell. The White Quiver pinned 
 him down with his knee on his breast. 
 The Owl Brave watched his enemy draw 
 a short knife from its sheath, hold it in 
 readiness and bend over him like fate. 
 Then for the first time the silence between 
 them was broken. 
 
 "You stole the Dawn Mist," the White 
 Quiver said in a low, penetrating voice. 
 
 "Aye! and fooled you and the wise 
 men!" 
 
 A hideous exultation distorted the Owl 
 Brave's face. He felt the cold point of 
 
 335
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 steel on his breast but after a second it 
 was withdrawn again. 
 
 "Where did you take her?" 
 
 "She has often been within call of you, 
 when you were not hunting her in the 
 Kootenai land." 
 
 "O! you accursed! How have you 
 done this? Who has helped you?" 
 
 "The witch woman, Ky-O, has been her 
 keeper." 
 
 Even then, prone upon the ground, with 
 the knife aimed at his heart, the Owl 
 Brave felt something akin to joy in be 
 traying the hag who had driven him out 
 of his last refuge with the prophecy which 
 was then being fulfilled. 
 
 "Where is the Dawn Mist now?" 
 
 The White Quiver uttered these words 
 slowly, painfully, as one who makes a 
 great effort. 
 
 "See yonder mist-shape over the 
 moon?" the Owl Brave answered. 
 
 The White Quiver raised his eyes and 
 saw a silvery, spirit shape of mist, gossa 
 mer, filmy and bright as a spangled veil 
 
 336
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 and by some trick of the atmosphere, the 
 moon, peering through its jewelled 
 meshes, looked curiously like a woman's 
 face. 
 
 "She is as far beyond you as that mist- 
 shape, yet were you wise you could reach 
 her in a hard day's march." 
 
 The hot blood swept in a red tide 
 through the White Quiver. 
 
 "Tell me where you have hidden her 
 and I will kill you without torture!" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 The Owl Brave smiled with hate tri 
 umphant. 
 
 The White Quiver bound him hand 
 and foot. The malevolent crimson glow 
 of a fire shone on the night and only the 
 watchful stars of heaven were witnesses to 
 that tragedy. . . . 
 
 The mist-wreath floated past and the 
 moon shone down impartially upon the 
 placid lake, the hooded shores and the 
 dead man lying in a dark-red ooze of 
 blood. 
 
 The White Quiver bent over and gazed 
 
 337
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 at him, searched him for some trace of 
 the Dawn Mist, all in vain. Even in 
 death the Owl Brave had thwarted him. 
 
 As he rose to go he looked from the 
 ghastly dead at his feet to the sublimity 
 of Going-to-the-Sun. The moon had 
 now risen so high that it shone on that 
 mountain of mountains, lighting up the 
 glaciers in its crown and the coldly si 
 lent eagles of stone perched among the 
 stars. Then he recalled the night before, 
 when, upon the pinnacle the Great Mys 
 tery had said to him in a dream: 
 
 "Your search is nearly at an end and 
 you will be rewarded." 
 
 The memory of that promise flooded 
 his heart with hope as the rising sun lights 
 the world. With a sudden uplift of spir 
 its he turned his back upon the man who 
 had died at his hands, upon that tragedy 
 of the darkness and the solitude and 
 started out once more to find the Dawn 
 Mist. 
 
 That night four crosses of light ap 
 peared about the moon; the sign that a 
 great chief was soon to die. 
 
 338
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE White Quiver traveled long 
 and far out across the face of the 
 prairie, but how long or how far 
 he did not know because he kept no track 
 of the rising and the setting of the sun. 
 When he was tired he rested; when he 
 was hungry he killed game or picked ber 
 ries and ate, but his pauses were short and 
 he pressed forever onward. He had often 
 hunted on these plains of amber, over 
 arched with blue and patterned with pur 
 ple cloud-shadows, yet to his surprise a 
 broad highway opened before him which 
 lead straight ahead and was lost in space. 
 Then presently, as he followed the high 
 way, he noticed, looming faintly out of 
 the blue atmosphere, still bluer moun 
 tains that he had never heard of nor seen 
 before. Strange, surpassing strange, he 
 
 339
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 thought, as he hurried on faster than the 
 cloud-shadows. A wonderful stillness 
 lay over the plains of amber and the skies 
 of blue, a silence as subtly harmonious 
 as dreams of music. But suddenly a 
 sound pulsed out of that silence with the 
 sharp and measured clearness of a drum. 
 He listened. It was a horse's hoof-beat. 
 Then he noticed for the first time that 
 there were hoof-prints on the broad high 
 way, the hoof-prints of a cradle-footed 
 horse! A light cloud of dust appeared 
 in the distance and as it came nearer he 
 could distinguish the form of a pony rush 
 ing towards him at full gallop. And as 
 this pony came yet nearer it whinnied to 
 him and he shouted aloud with joy, for 
 it was the lost Medicine Pony, his beloved 
 Pinto horse! It stopped abruptly a good 
 stone's throw beyond him and though he 
 called to it with endearing names it would 
 not come closer. Then, with deft, whirl 
 ing circle he threw the horsehair lariat 
 and it fell about the pony's neck. But 
 even with this, try as he would, he could 
 
 340
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 not get the animal to cross what seemed 
 to be an invisible line. As though with 
 fright it reared and plunged and snorted. 
 He gave up trying to force the pony, but 
 holding the lariat in his hands ap 
 proached it and leaped on its bare back. 
 In a second it wheeled about and started 
 at a mad run in the direction whence it 
 had come, towards the blue mountains 
 that were as etherial and transparent as 
 the sky. 
 
 On, on they ftewf 
 
 The White Quiver patted the mane of 
 his pet and whispered in its ear: 
 
 "Take me to your mistress, the Dawn 
 Mist, O! Pinto horse!" 
 
 It was a strange country they traversed, 
 barren yet beautiful and luminous with 
 brilliant light like the flash of jewels, and 
 though they traveled very long and very 
 far the sun stood still in the cloudless ze 
 nith. 
 
 The mountains towered higher and bol 
 der and bluer but always with the concen 
 trated, impalpable blue of heaven.
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 On, on they flew/ 
 
 The mountains were close at hand and 
 he noticed that at their base was a black 
 and yawning chasm. Straight toward 
 this the Pinto Pony rushed with the swift 
 ness of the wind. Into the dark and chill 
 of the passage under the mountains they 
 plunged. The White Quiver could hear 
 the trickle of running water, feel the icy 
 spray of unseen falls upon his face. 
 Through the blackness they clattered and 
 crashed never hesitating, never stopping. 
 
 Then suddenly they burst into the white 
 light of the new day. 
 
 The White Quiver was blinded by the 
 dazzling brightness for a moment, but 
 gradually a wonderful scene took shape 
 before his eyes. A vast plain covered 
 with deep, luxuriant flower-patterned 
 grass spread out to the encircling skies, 
 and feeding there, as far as his vi 
 sion could penetrate, were countless 
 thousands of horses, silk and beaver buf 
 falo, elk, deer and antelope. Tall shade 
 trees grew on pleasant slopes and in their 
 342
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 leafy branches yellow-breasts and blue 
 birds were singing with a sweetness such 
 as he had never heard. As he looked 
 more closely he noticed horses he had 
 owned in his youth. Yonder was his 
 buckskin pony, here was the little black 
 nag with a star of white on his head. And 
 marvel of marvels, grazing among the 
 fat, sleek herds was the white buffalo cow 
 he had hunted and killed! 
 
 A mist hung over a little winding 
 stream that laced the green with silver. 
 It floated against the blue and as it ap 
 proached he saw through the radiant 
 transparency her whom he sought, the In 
 carnation of the Mist. 
 
 "Beloved! O! Dawn Mist!" he cried, 
 dropping on his knees overcome with joy 
 before her. 
 
 And she, transfigured with spiritual 
 beauty, smiled with the beatitude of love 
 fulfilled and beckoned him to her. 
 
 * 
 
 The White Quiver never returned. 
 The Piegans, who had come at last to 
 
 343
 
 THE WHITE QUIVER 
 
 recognize him as a great hero, waited long 
 and anxiously for him and at last mourned 
 him as dead. 
 
 Nor was the Dawn Mist ever seen 
 again. 
 
 Though none knew whence the young 
 chief went on his solitary journey it was 
 believed he had gone to join his lost love 
 in the Great White Desert of Eternity. 
 
 When the hard winter had passed and 
 the snows were melting in the first chinook 
 of spring, a hunter found, in a lingering 
 drift, the stark and frozen body of the 
 Pinto horse. 
 
 THE END 
 
 344
 
 
 SEP 25 198g AJE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 UCT2 
 
 3 M83 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAT LORD 
 
 
 
 PHINTCOINU.C.A.
 
 PS3537 
 
 Sanders, Helen Fitzgerald, 
 
 1883- 
 The white quiver / 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 001 250 629 1 
 
 3 121000387 2965