The Lonesome Trail

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11, 17 March 1906, Page 51

The Lonesome Trail

By

John Neihardt

A Legend of the Omahas in which a voice called out of the Great Silence and was heard

HE was the son of Sky-Walker’s oiliest squaw, and he was Lorn in the time when the lone goose flies (February). It was a very bitter winter, so that many years after the old men spoke of it as “the winter of the big snows.” . , Sky-Walker, his father, was a seer of great visions, and he, had a power that was more than the power of strong arms. He was a thunder man, and he could make rain. And when Sky-Walker’s oldest squaw bore a son there was much wonder in the village, for she was far past her summer and the frost had already fallen on her hair. ' Also, she was lean and wrinkled. So the old men and women came to the lodge of Sky-Walker and looked upon the new-born child. They looked and they shook their heads, for the child was not as a child should be. He was no bigger than a baby coyote littered in a terrible winter after a summer of famine. He was not fat. “He can never be a waschu-cha (brave),” said one old man; “I have seen many zhinga-zhingas (babies) who grew strong, but they were not like this one. He will carry wood and water.” And Sky-Walker’s old squaw arose from the blankets where she lay with the child, and sat up, fixing eyes of bitterness upon those who came to pity, and she said : "He will be more than a killer of men or a hunter of bison. Wakunda sent him to me, for 1 am old and past my time. Sep, I am lean and wrinkled, and it is already winter in my hair. Also I had visions. Let my man tell you; he knows.” Ami Sky-Walker, sitting beside the old mother, gave words to th,? old men and women, who knew his little words to be bigger than the big words of most men. "The woman speaks true. She is past her time, and she has seen things that made me wonder, and I am wise. She had visions, but in them there was no singing of arrows, nor drumming of pony hoofs, nor dancing of braves in war paint, nor cries of conquered enemies: neither was there any thunder or lightning. '"There was only the soft speaking of quiet things—the sound of the growing of green things .under the sun. And before the last moon died, once she wakened me from my sleeping, for she had had a. dream. She saw her son walking a mighty man among the tribes, yet he had no weapons. "And a great light, greater than sunlight. was' about him. This she told me. Many times have we seen together the drifting of the snows, and always her words Wi?re true words. “And see. it is a boy, even as she dreamed. Also he has eonie in the time when the lone goose Hies. I see much in this. He shall be alone, but high in loneliness, and he shall go far, far! Look where lie gazes upon you with man-eyes! Are they the eyes of a zhinga-zhinga?” The old folks looked and pitied no more, for the eyes were not as other eyes. They had a strange light, making the old ones wonder. So the word passed around and.around the circle of lodges that Sky-Walkers oldest squaw had a son who was not a common zhinga-zhinga. And as the talk grew', the name of the child grew with it. So he was called W a-ehoo-bay, ' the Holy One.” Ami as Wa-choo-bay grew, so grew the wonder of the people, for he never cried, and he talked soon. Also from the first ho appeared as one over whom many winters had passed. When he reached that age when he should have played with the other hoys, he did not play, but was much alone, upon the prairie without the village. He never took pa-rt in the game of Pawnee Bhay-day, the game of spear and hoop, ■which made the other boys laugh and about.

One evening in his fifth year, his father. Sky-Walker, said to hint: “It is : time for the - coming of the dreams to Wa-choo-bay. Jx*t him go afar into a lonesome place without food and lift his hands and his voice to Wakunda (God). Four sleeps let him stay in the lonesome place, that his dream may come.” So his mother smeared his forehead with mud and muttered to the spirits: ‘•Thus -shall you know; Wa-choo-bay, who goes forth to have his first dream. Send him a good dream.’’ And Wa-choo-bay went forth into a lonesome place without food. And on the morning of the fifth day. when the squaws were r making fires, he returned, and as he entered the village and went to the lodge of his father the squaws gazed upon his face, seeing that which was very strange. They wakened the sleepers in the lodges, saying: “Wa-choo-bay is come back with a strange medicine-look upon his face! He has had a great dream; come and see.” And the village awoke and crowded about the lodge of’ Sky-Walker, who came forth and said: “Go away! Something great has happened to iny nu-zhinga (boy), and he is about to tell me his dream.” And the people went away, awed and silent. In the stillness of his lodge SkyWalker gazed upon the boy’s face and said: “What has Wa-choo-bay seen?’’ And Wa-choo-bay said: “I went far into a lonesome place; there was nothing but the crows and the prairie and the sky. I lifted my hands and my voice as you told me. I said the words you told me. Then I slept, and when 1 awoke this is what I remembered; the rest was like big things moving in the mist. “I was on the shore of the Ne Shoda (Missouri), and a little canoe came up to me, and I got in, for a voice told me to get in. Then the canoe swam out into the water and went fast. I went toward the place of the summer. I rode far, many sleeps, and then as I was about to come to the end of my long riding, T awoke. Four times I saw this, and then I came here. What does it mean ?” “I do not know,’’ said Sk\-Walker.

“I must think hard, and then maybe I will know.” And Sky-Walker shut himself in his lodge and thought hard for four sleeps. And when the fifth morning came he said to Wa-choo-bay: *i have thought hard, and now I know that it is the big things moving in the mist that you must see. Go forth and dream again in the lonesome place.” And so Wa-choo-bay went forth with the mud on his brow, crying to the spirits that he might see the big things that moved in the mist. He slept and dreamed. Again he was in the canoe, and he rode far. Then at last the river tossed him upon the sand, and lo! there was a big, big village before him. and the lodges of it were strange and very big. Then the big village wavered like the picture of something in a pool that is disturbed, and vanished. Ami the sun was on the hills. ■So Wa-choo-bay went back to bis father and told what he had seen, and Sky- Wal ke r said: “This is very strange. After many sunlights of flowing, the big muddy water comes to a place where a big new tribe has its lodges. And the faces of the tribe are white. Something it : s about this tribe that you have dreamed. And I am afraid, for Wakunda meant that all faces should be of the colour of the earth. Let the sunlights pass, and then we shall know the meaning of this dream.” 'rhe days grew into years, ami Wa-choo-bay sat at the feet of the oltl men. learning much. lie learned the names of the thunder spirits that are never spoken aloud, lie learned the songs that the thunder spirits love. He learned to call the rain, lie learned the manner of the rite of Wa-zhin-a-dee. by which one may kill a man without the use of weapons. And when he had grown to be a tall youth, ho was taken into the sacred lodge where the holy relics are kept, For it seemed plain that Wakunda meant him for a great medicine-inan. But it was in the summer • hen ho had reached the height of a man that Wa-choo-bay did that which marked him for the lonesome way It happened that the summer had been one of peace and plenty; so the Omahas called in the Pawnees and the

Poucns for a pow wow, which is a great feast and a talking. And the two neighbouring tribes had taken the peace trail and come to the Omaha village. Then there was much painting in the colours of peace, and the village that the three tribes made was more than one could see with a look. Jn a great circle it lay in the fiat lands of Ne Stioda, with an opening to the place of morning. And in the centre there was built a large semi-cir-cular shade of willow-boughs, in which the braves would dance ami sing, giving away presents of ponies, furs, hides, and trinkets that please the eye. One day there was a great dancing and a great giving away. Many ponies had been led into the sunny centre of the semi-circular shade, and given away to those whom the criers called. And Wa-choo-bay was there, standing, tall and thin, alone amid all the revellers. for more ami more as the sunlights passed he thought deep thoughts. Among the Poncas sat a young squaw who was good to see. for she was slender and taller than a common brave. And upon her forehead was the tattooed sunspot that marked her for the daughter of the owner of many ponies. She was called I'm ba (Sunlight), and she was the best to see of all the daughters of the assembled tribes. To-day she sat amid the revelling and saw none of it. She saw only the la 11 youth, stawdog alone like a beech t ree among a cluster of scrub oaks. And her eyes grew soft as she looked. And when the centre of the place of shade had domed. she arose and walked into the centre. There she stood, a stately -igure, with soft eyes fixed upon Wa-choo-bay. At length she raised her arms toward him and rang a low. droning song, like that a moth »r sings to her child in the evening when the tires burn blue. And all the people listened, breathless, for sb< was fair, and the song, which was a song of love, was sung to Wa-choo-bay alone, standing thin ami tall and deep in thought. Then when her song had ceased, she took oIF her blanket of dyed bmkskin. and. holding it at arm’s length toward Wa-choo-bay, she said: “1 give my blanket to the tall and lonesome one. Let him come ami take it. and 1 shall follow him on all his trails even if they bo hard trails that lead to deat li!” Ami Wa-ebon-bay raised his eyes and gazed with a sad look upon the Pon< i woman. His voice came strong( out soft : “I cannot take the blanket: neither shall I ever take a squaw. l’«»r I am a dreamer of dreams. I shall never hear zhinga-zhingas laughing about my lodge. 1 am going on a long trail, for I follow a dream. Yet have I never seen a woman so good to see. There is an ache in ni\ breast as 1 speak. Lot this woman follow one who kills enemies and hunts bison. I dream dreams, and a long trail is before me, and it* end is in the mist.’’

Then ITuba moaned and walked out of the circle with her head bowed. Ami Sky-Walker, seeing this, said: ’ it is even as I said. ’Tie was born in the time of the lone goose. He shall hr abmo. hut high in loneliness; and he nhall go far, far.” \ml t*e time came when the tribes |<H»k the homeward trail. Then one day \\ .4 -tTioo-bay raised his voice among the peeph* and said: "My time is come to go. I take a long, ]<»m>omr trail, for a dream dreamed many times is leading me.'’ Then hr went down to the great river where a canoe lay. ami the people followed. I hr\ said no word as he pushed the cam»e into the current and shot downstream. for a white light was upon his fat.-y, and the dream rode with him. Then Sky-Walker and his old squaw climbed a high bluff ami watched the sprek that was Wa-rhoo-bay fading in the mist <>f distance. "ThD is the last 1 shall se said the old woman, "for I am old, and the winter is in my hair. Hut great things will happen when I am gone.” Ami under the shade of a lean hand raised brow-ward she* saw the black speck vanish in the blue distance. Summers and winters passed. SkyWalker and bis old squaw died; the name of \\ a elmo-bav became a dim and mystic thing. Vet often about (lie fires of winter, when the wind moaned about tin* lodges, the old men talked of the going away of the Holy One. making the eves of the youths grew |>jg with wonder. \nd often the old men and women g-rz* d front the high bluff dow n the dim

stretches of the muddy river, wondering when W a-cluio-bay would come bark, for it was said that great things would hapj»en at his c-oming. It happened many' years after the going away of \\ a-rheo-bay that th? Omaha tribe had its village in the valley on a '•!<(!< near the big. muddy water. It was the time when the sunflowers made sunlight in the valleys, and when the women were busy pulling weeds from the gardens. One evening a band of youths, who had been playing on the bluffs overlooking the far reaches of the liver, came with breathless speed and terror-stricken faces into the village. “Honda gee-ung” (devil boat) ! they cried, pointing to the river. ‘‘A big canoe breathing out smoke and fire is swimming up Ne Shcda.” The whole village scrambled up the bluffs, ami what they saw was not forgotten for many moons. It was a boat, but it was not as other boats. It breathed smoke and fire. It grunted and pulled ’ike a swimmer in a heavy current. It had a great arm that reached before it. Also it had two noses, -where the smoke and fire came out. It had eyes along its side that sparkled in the evening sunlight. There was none to paddle il. yet it moved steadily against the current. The people stood bunched closely together and shivering with fear as the monster approached. With a chugging and a swishing and a coughing, it swam, turning its head toward the bluff, where the people watched, and reaching out its one big arm toward them. "It sees us! It wishes to eat us!”

cried the people, and like a herd of frightened l»is<n they ran and tumbled down the bluff. T hey hid in their lodges, with their weajxms grasped in their hands. They made no noise, lest the monst? r should find them. But the devil-swimmer did not come. The people listenvd. At length the sound of the mighty hreauiing stopped, then it Legau again, and grew dimmer and dimmer until it died away far up the stream. And when the people came forth cautiously from their hiding, a man, tall, thin, with a strange look upon his bronze face, stood in the centre of the village. Awed by the mien of the stranger, the people stared in silence. The sun had fallen, and the shadows of the evening were about him. Also he wore garments that were not as Wakunda meant garments should he. The stranger cast a long gaze about him. then raised his arms and said in a voice that was strong but soft: "I breathe peace upon my people.” The words were Omaha words, yet they sounded strangely. Again the voice was raised in the shadows and passed like a wind among the people, shaking them. "1 am Wa-choo-bay—he who followed the long dream-trail —and I am come back with a great wisdom for the tribes.” But the people ciily trembled, and the old men whispered: “It is not Wa-ehoo-bay, but his spirit. Well is the face remembered, but the words are not man-words.” Then the stranger passed about the circle of the w< n’ering people, touching them a> he went, for he had heard the

whispering of the old men. And the people shrank from him., "1 am Wa-ehoo-bay,** cried the stranger again. “1 am the sub of Sky-Walker. £ am a man, and not a spirit. Give me meat, for 1 am hungry.” And they gave him meat, and he ate. Then only did the people know him for a man. In the days that followed, Wa-choo-bay told many strange things of |he whitefaced race whose camp-fires were kindled ever nearer and nearer the people of the prairie. Also he said words that were not common words. They were mtdicinewoids. And before many moons had grown and died these things travelled far and wide across the prairie, yntil in many tribes the wonder grew. Around many camp-fires was told the tale of how an Omaha had come back after being many years in the lands that lay toward the place of summer : also of the devil-boat in which he came, and of the new wisdom he was talking. So there was a great moving of the tribes toward the village of the Oniahas. The Poncas, the Pawnees, the Osages, the Alissouris, the O.toes—all heard tin? strange tale and took the trail that led to the village lying in the flat lands of Aie Shoda. And in the time when the prairie was brown there was a great gathering of the prairie people in the fiat lands. The cluster of villages that they made was so broad that a strong man walked from morning until the sun was Jiigh before he reached the other side. Then, one morning when the tribes had gathered, Wa-choo-bay went to the top of a bluff that stood bleak against the sky.

and the people followed, sitting below him upon the hillsides, for they wished to hear the strange words that would be spoken that day. Wa-choo-bay, standing thin and tall against the sky, raised his arms and his face to the heavens, breathing strange words above the people, upon whom a great hush fell. And it happened that jn the hush a tamed wolf among the people near the summit of the bluff raised its snout and mourned into the sudden stillness. Ami its master beat it for the noise it made until it cried with pain. Then a strange thing happened. Wa-ehoo-bay walked in among the gazers anil laid caressing hands upon the wolf, calling it by gentle names until it licked his hands. And when he returned to the summit, the wolf followed, licking the feet of Wa-ehoo-bay as it went. Then Wa-ehoo-bay raised his voice, and it went even to the farthest listener, though it seemed a soft voice. "This is the first I shall teach you: lie kind to everything that lives.” And the people wondered much. This was a new teaching. In the hush of awe that fell, Wa-ehoo-bay spoke again, while the wolf sat by him, licking his feet. He told of his being in the lands that lay toward the summer: of the great white-faced race that lived then'; of the great villages that they built, having lodges bigger than half a prairie village. He told of the strength of this great whit:-faced race; of how they were moving steadily toward the people of the prairie. Ami then lie told in quaint phrases the story of Christ and His teachings of kindness. "These things 1 learned from the great medicine-men of the white-faced race, anil they are wise men,” said Wa-choo-bay. "It is this that has made t’nir people great. So I have come to say: Have no more fighting on the prairies; be one great tribe, even like the whitefaces; build great villages like them, for J have learned that only the-.-who build great villages and do not wander shall live. The others must Hee like the bison when hunters follow'. "And I will teach you the wise words of the great white Wakunda’s Sen, who died because He loved all the tribes. It is a teaching of peace—a teaching that we be kind to our enemies.” *Phen there arose one among the Osages, an v.lil man, and he said: ‘‘These are big words. Let Wa-ehoo-bav call down rain upon us if this big white God loves him.” Then arose one among the Pawnees, and lie cried in broken Omaha: ”1 say with my Osage brother. Let Wa-ehoo-bay <lO some iredicine-deed, that we may know him for a holy one.”

And still anotiwr among the Poncas arose and said: If this be true that we have heard how Wa-vhoo-bav eame back in a holy boat, and that his big, white Wakunda is so strong and loves Wa-choo-bay, let him sind the rain, and we w ill tall upon our faces.” Then the whole concourse of tribes sent up a shout: “Give us some medicine-deed!” And when the shout had died. Wa-choo-bay smiled a smile of pity and said: “I am not the big. white Wakunda: I am only one who talks for Him and loves Him, for I have sr-en a new light. I can do no niedieine-deeds. Neither can any one among you do medicinedeeds. It is all a dreaming—and we must awaken.” Then there was a great crying, an angry storm of voices about the hill. It beat upon the bleak summit when? Wa-choo-bay stood with fa<*v an I hands raised to the heavens, breathing a prayer of the white-faers. There was a breaking up of the concourse and a walking away. But one among the people hurled a stow? with sure, aim and struck Wa-choo-bav upon the side of the face. He staggered, and the blood came. But he showed no anger. I urning the other side of his face, hp said: ‘‘.Let him who threw the st on? throw again and strike me I-re. Even so the great white Wakunda’s Son suffered.” But the second «tono was not cast, and Wa-choo-bav was left alone with the wolf upon tic* summit, k reeling and muttering words of kindness. Tile day parsed, and still he knelt upon the summit- But when the dark had fallen. he IFrame aware of some one near him. He raised his head ami saw in the starlight a woman lying upon her face before him. ami she was inoanin«-. \\'<K-lioo-bav lift.*! hey an I looked into her face. It was a face that he had known of old. only the winters had changed it. “I am Vmba. the Pon a woman.” she said. “Many pummels ago 1 spok? to you. Do you remember ?'* And Wa-choo-bay said: “I have not forgotten.’’ Then said Pinta. the Pon-a -woman: “Even now it i> the same as then. I have come to take tip hard trail with you, even the trail' that loads to death, for in all these winters and suninr-rs I have taki?n no man.' And she wiped the blood from his face with her blanke t of bucki-kin. There was an aching in the breast of Wa-choo-bay as he said l lies* words, which the Ponca woman could not understand, though her tenguv was on? with his: ‘‘From now through all the summers and winters that follow, your name shall be Mary.” “Have yon bra rd my words?” he said after a long silence. “1 have heard.” said the woman, “and I believe. I alone among all the villagers believe.” “Then you shall follow me on my lonesome trail. I s<c not its end for it is in the mist.” The days when the prairie wa . brown passed, and the snows came. Ami there was one who followed a bitter winter trail. From village to village he went, speaking words of kindness and doing good deeds. But everywhere he was driven from the villages. And there were two who followed him—two faithful disciples--1 he woman, wlms,* name was changed to Mary, and a wolf. Amt ever the ta.ll, thin m in. whose face was pinched with hunger and tlir cold, gave kind words to those who offered blows. It happened in the time of HungaMubli—the time when tlv snows drift against the north sides of the lodges, that a rumour ran across the prairie—a rumour that a strange sickness h id come to the village of th,? Poncas. It was the sickness called Gcha-t unga. the sickness of the big. red sores. Then Wa-choo-bay and his two disciples turned w»*ary feet toward the stricken village of the Poncas. It was a hard trail, with little food and much cold. And whrn the three entered the stricken village there was a rejoicing among the Poncas, for they said: “Alight it not be that this one whom

we hate spurned is stronger than w. thought?” But Wa-choo-bay sang no medicinesongs; he performed no mystic rite*. With lender hands he niirs.d Hu* sick. Also lie knelt beside them and said soft wools that were not the wools of tin* prairie. And it happened that the inv s Ide arrows of the Terror fell thicker and thicker among the Pon: as. The sick ness spread, and the village was tilled with the delirious shrieks of the dying. So a great, angry wail went up agiiust Wa-choo-bay. “The sickness grows greater, not less,” said those who wire st || strong. “This Wa-choo-hay’s wools arc not true winds. There is a black spirit in him ” So it happened that aims th it were still strong seized Wa-choo-bay ami bound him with thongs of buckskin. Then lie was led afar from th* village to th' bleak, cold summit of a hill. There they planted a post and bound Wa-ehoo-lmv to it. And the woman whose name was changed to Mary begged for him. end the wolf, with its four feet huddled together in the snow, mourned with an upw/rd thrustvig of the snout. Rut Wa-choo-bay said:

“Do nut wuil for me. I'his is the |»la<*<* where in\ trail <*ii*'m. Thi** i* what wii* in the mi*t. Lit tlieM* wlu-m I h*\e do us tlivv will d<».” An<| when th»\ had Imuiikl lim tn tl »* p<»*t they whipped him u.t’i *lk horn whips. “Where i* vour wlm< \\ .ikir.ida . ’ they cried, and it wa* a hat cry. “Hen* l»c-i<h* u* stand* t while Wakunda ami His Sun!” *ai«l W a <■<’<»» h.:v: ami hi* br«)w was wet with lh SV: at of agony. But tin whippers <1 «l not see. ami lhe whips tell harder. Anti after *onie linn* Wa cho. Im\ raised his head wraklv to tlu* diiikening hcavi’iis. for the *un had fallen, ami moaned *oft word* that wire mt | ra i rie words. Thru his head fell forward upon hi* breast. The whips fell no more. The "h’p pers drparti <l. 'rhe sk\ was like a short of iro*t\ in*tai ami the star* wire like broken Again*t the -'k\ hitnif tin thin ligui.’ of W a-ch<H» l»av lashc l tn the pi>*t. ami him-ath him in the *lmtb»w buddled two who *ent trembling tries <-f sorrow into the empty *paec* «•! th,* *now —a wmnan and a wolf.