must with their own moccasined feet
measure the distance in yards and inches from that council lodge to the
grave--the grave of their race. It were almost sacrilege to invade their
thoughts. The old question of the carven Sphinx sat on each bronze face.
The far cry of the hills and plains--the memories of other days--forged new
lines until the brow of each solemn warrior seemed like a page in the book
of fate. They saw again the slowly rising smoke column, as in the sunrise
and from the far off hilltop it lifted its call for the chiefs to
assemble. The memory of the old days stirred their hearts. Again they
saw the flaming council fires, and heard once more the burning speech of
their brothers as they counselled for war or the welfare of the tribe.
The blood of youth again chased in their veins as they felt once more that
they might sit in council as in the old time and then die in peace. The
old war-bonnets and war-shirts were brought out; the coup stick with its
trembling eagle feathers, the ancient bows and arrows. The favourite
horse was blanketed, and the journey begun. Old scenes and landmarks were
made new. Here they crossed a river through whose rushing waters they
had, in other days, pursued a foe. Over there was a coulee where in
exciting patience they had sought to ambush the enemy. Yonder was a plain
that had been a battlefield. Winding over the pine-girt hilltop they
traced an old buffalo trail. And now they had reached the council lodge.
They had partaken of the bread and meat. They had exchanged greetings,
and pledged themselves to brotherhood and peace. How familiar it all
seemed! For one splendid moment they were once again really Indians. The
same historic river wound its way among the purple hills and through the
lacework of alder and aspen trees that like a green ribbon festooned the
valley. How peaceful seemed even this place--once also a place of battle.
And now the far stretch of the years loomed up: boys again, trapping
foxes, learning to shoot the arrow which finally found its mark in the
buffalo calf; capturing and taming the wild horse; the first war party;
the first scalp, and its consequent honour among the tribe; the first coup
counted; the eagle that was shot to get the coveted feather that to all
men should be a pledge of victory; then the love for an Indian maiden, the
ponies and furs and beadwork willingly given in exchange for this new
love; the making of a new home. T