CHAPTER XXVI
THE SUN-DANCE
The pale moon shone down upon a strange scene.
Four great fires marked the limits of a wide clearing. And these were setwith consummate accuracy at the cardinal points. Superstition demandedthis setting.
The ruddy glow threw into uncertain relief the faces and unkempt figuresof a vast concourse of men and women gathered, in one great circle, withinthe boundary limits of the fires. On the faces of all was an expression offierce revelry. A dark setting completed the picture. Beyond the fires allwas shadow, profound, ghostly. The woods in all directions closed in thatweird concourse of beings, and even the devilish light of the fires couldnot relieve the savagery of the scene.
Like the hub of a gigantic wheel, in the midst of the circle stood acluster of leafless trees, mighty patriarchs, gnarled and twisted, withgreat overhanging limbs as stout and rugged as only hoary age can makethem.
The clearing inside the human circle was empty for a time, but the crowdwithout was momentarily increasing, augmented by an incessant stream ofdusky, silent figures pouring from the adjacent forest depths. As theminutes wore on the human tide slackened; it became broken, finally itceased altogether. Men, women and children, all the able-bodiedinhabitants of the Rosebud Reservation had foregathered, and thesignificance of the gathering could not be mistaken.
Now a distant murmur comes from out of the blackness of the woods. Atfirst it is low, faint, and without character. But it grows, it gains inpower till its raucous din breaks upon the waiting multitude, andimmediately a responsive murmur rises from ten thousand voices. Those whohear know the meaning of the discordant noise. The "med'cine" men of thetribe are approaching, chanting airs which accord with their "med'cine,"and serve at the same time to herald the coming of the great Sioux chief,Little Black Fox.
Nearer and nearer, louder and louder. All eyes are upon the black fringeof the forest where the trees no longer have power to obstruct themoonlight. And of a sudden a number of writhing, twisting figures comedancing into view.
They draw nearer to the expectant throng. Necks are craned, eyes arestraining to watch the antics so significant to these creatures ofsuperstition. For have not these strange beings power to invoke thespirits, to drive away evil influence from the path of him whose approachthey herald?
They reach the clearing; they leap within the human circle. Their paintedfaces are distorted with the effort of their wild exertions; theirbefeathered heads are rendered still more hideous by the lurid blending ofconflicting lights. Thirty creatures, hardly recognizable as human beings,dance to the accompaniment of a strange crooning of the women onlookers;to the beating of sad-toned drums, and the harsh scraping of stringedinstruments. But the dance is marked by a distinct time. It hasunmistakable features and figures, and it proceeds to its natural finishwhich leaves the dancers prostrate upon the ground, with their facespressed hard into the dusty earth. It is a wild scene.
But the Sun-dance has only begun. There is much to follow.
Now a single figure moves out of the crowd, and takes its position in thearena. It is the young chief. His attitude is one of sublime dignity. Hiserect figure and haughty carriage bear the indelible stamp of hisillustrious forbears. Silently he raises one hand, and a deathly hushfalls upon his people.
And Little Black Fox speaks.
Tall, handsome, lithe, a frame of great bone and smooth sinewy muscle, heis an imposing figure. He wears no blanket, just the buckskin, beaded asbecomes his high rank.
He harangues mightily, now working himself into an almost uncontrolledfury, again letting his voice die down to that plaintive, musical notewhich alone belongs to the Sioux tongue. And his speech is of war--wild,fierce, unreasonable war, such as his people love. He is thrilling withthe untamed spirit of his ancestors, and every word he utters carries aready conviction to the untutored souls to whom it is addressed.
He sweeps on in a torrential flow of passion, and those who listen areroused at once to a savage enthusiasm. There are no interruptions. Theoration is received in complete silence. These are Indians taken intotheir sovereign's council; they are there to hear while the young bravepronounces, with all the fire of his ardent, aboriginal nature, the doomof their white masters.
The wise men of the council are grouped together and sit aloof. They sitlike mummies, smoking, and with every appearance of indifference. Buttheir ears are wide open. One alone displays interest, and it isnoticeable that he is different from all the rest of the aged group. He isyounger. He has blue eyes and fair hair, and his skin is pale. Yet he,too, is blanketed like his companions. He listens acutely to the end ofthe speech. Then he silently moves away, and, unheeded, becomes lost inthe adjacent woods.
As the chieftain's last words die away the men of "med'cine" rise fromtheir groveling attitude and a fresh dance begins. But this time it is notconfined to the clearing. It is one which launches them into the midst ofthe audience. Hither and thither they caper, and from their tracks emergea number of very young men. It might be that this is the "Dance ofSelection," for it undoubtedly has the result of bringing forth a numberof striplings from the ranks of the onlookers.
The dancers have made the complete circuit, and about one hundred youngmen, little more than boys, join in the great Sun-dance.
Now ensues one of the most terrible scenes of human barbarity conceivable.In the course of the dance the "med'cine" men seize upon each of thewilling victims in turn. On the breast of each boy incisions are made withlong, keen knives; two parallel incisions on each side of the chest. Theflesh between each two of these is then literally torn from the underlyingtissues, and a rough stick is thrust through the gaping wounds. So thewould-be brave is spitted.
Now a rawhide rope is attached to the centre of the stick, the end of itis thrown over the gnarled limb of one of the trees in the centre of theclearing, and the youth is lifted from the ground and remains suspended,the whole weight of his body borne by the two straps of bloody flesh cutfrom his chest.
The dance proceeds until each youth is spitted and suspended from thecentral cluster of trees, then, with one accord, the men of the audiencebreak from their places and join in the war-dance. They dance about thevictims with a fierce glee like hundreds of fiends; they beat them, theyslash them with knives, they thrust lighted brands upon the fresh youngflesh till it blisters and throws out nauseous odors. Their acts are actsof diabolical torture, inconceivably savage. But the worst agony isendured in desperate silence by each victim. That is, by all but one.
Out of all the number hanging like dead men upon the trees only one youthfinds the torture unendurable.
He cries aloud for mercy, and his shrieks rise high above the pandemoniumgoing on about him.
Instantly he is cut down, the stick is removed from his body, and he isdriven from the ceremony by the waiting squaws, amidst a storm of femininevituperation. He is the only one whose heart is faint. He will never bepermitted to fight. He must live with the squaws all his days. He isconsidered a squaw-man, the greatest indignity that can be put upon him.
Thus are the braves made.
While the Sun-dance was still at its height two men who had taken no partin it, except that of secret spectators, moved quickly and silently awaythrough the forest. Their gait was almost a flight, but not of fear.
Ten minutes of half running and half walking brought them to a spot wheretwo horses were tethered under the guardianship of the fierce General.Here they mounted, and, without a word, proceeded with all speed in thedirection of the Agency.
At the door they halted, and Seth spoke for the first time since leavingthe Sun-dance. Parker had already dismounted, but the other remained inhis saddle.
"Say, you'll move right off," he said quickly, "an' git Hargreaves an' hiswimminfolk clear, too. Guess you'll make the farm 'fore me, sure. Take thebridge for it. Rosebud 'll let you in. Guess you'll find plenty o' company'fore daylight. Rosie 'll see to the signals."
"Yes," Parker nodded. "They're moving
to-night. This is a carefullyplanned surprise."
Seth glanced at the eastern sky.
"Four hours to daylight," he mused. Then: "Yes, guess there's more'n BlackFox's hand in this. So long."
He rode off with his faithful dog at his heels, making for the ford, andwatchful of every shadow as he went. His night's work was yet only halfdone.
Crossing the river he climbed the opposite bank and rode out upon theprairie. Making a wide detour he came to within a hundred yards of thefront of Nevil Steyne's hut. Here he halted and dismounted. Crouching uponthe ground he scanned the sky-line carefully in every direction. At lasthe seemed satisfied, and, flinging his bridle reins to the dog, whopromptly took them in his powerful jaws and quietly sat down in front ofthe horse's head, moved cautiously forward.
In a few moments he came upon two horses standing asleep, tethered by longropes to picket-pins. One of these he released and led back to his own.Then he remounted and rode on. Again he circled wide of his destination,and this time struck into the woods that lined the river. His way now laydown the black aisles of tree trunks which he pursued until he came to aspot he was evidently in search of. Then he again dismounted, and,entrusting the two horses to the dog's care, moved forward on foot.
With unerring judgment he broke cover directly in rear of Nevil's log hut.There was neither window nor door on this side, a fact which he wasevidently aware of, for, without hesitation, but with movements as silentas any Indian, he crept round to the front, and sidled to the window. Herethere was a light shining dully, but no means of obtaining a view of theinterior. He moved on, and, crouching at the doorway, listened intently. Afew seconds satisfied him. Wanaha was inside; she was awake, for he heardher moving about. He knew at once that Nevil was out.
With a satisfied sigh he moved away. This time he walked eastward towardthe bridge, keeping close in the shadow of the woods. A couple of hundredyards from the hut he stopped and took up a position just within theshelter of the undergrowth, whence he had a perfect view of the open plainin front, and yet was sufficiently sheltered by the echoing woods to hearthe least movement of any one passing that way. And so he waited.
Nor did he wait long. Eyes and ears trained to this sort of work werekept ever on the alert. But it was his ears which told him at last of someone approaching. Some one was moving through the woods. The sound wasfaint and distant, but he heard it. There was no mistake. And he knew itwas Nevil Steyne returning home.
Clearing the brush he made his way into the midst of the aisles ofleafless tree-trunks. Pausing in the shadow of one of the forest giants hewaited. The footsteps came nearer. He shifted his position again; for hisears told him that he was not yet on the track which Nevil would take.
At last, however, he came to a stand, and did not move again. Guided by awonderful hearing, he knew that he was in a direct line between the manapproaching and his home.
He leant against a tree, his eyes and ears straining. Some few yards awaythere was a shaft of moonlight stretching right across the path whichNevil must take, and on this path Seth kept his eyes.
The man came on all unconscious of who and what was awaiting him. He hadno thought of his presence at the Sun-dance having been detected. Histhoughts were on what the morrow was to bring forth; on what it would meanto him when Rosebud was removed from his path. She alone stood between himand that which he had schemed for ever since the arrival of the memorableletter from his brother. He was in a mood of intense satisfaction. He knewthat at last he was to realize his desires, that at last he was to payoff a long score which he owed Seth of White River Farm.
He stepped into the moonlit patch. The sudden flash of light made himpause. It startled him. He looked beyond apprehensively, then he lookedup, and the great moon above reassured him. He moved on. The next momenthe stopped dead. He could proceed no further. A ring of metal was pressingagainst his forehead, and Seth was behind it, and his smooth, even voice,coldly compelling, held him.
"Say, I've been lookin' fer you," it said. "You're comin' right up to thefarm. The Injuns are out. Savee? Jest fer once you're goin' to work on ourside. Say, you're goin' to fight 'em--with us."
There was a deathly silence. Neither moved. The gun was pressing the man'sforehead still. Nevil stood like one paralyzed.
"Wal?" questioned the cold voice, proceeding from Seth's shadowy figure.
And Nevil was driven to speech.
"I'm not a fighting man. I----"
But his denial was cut short.
"You've jest got ten seconds to make up your mind. You're goin' tofight--for us, or----"
Seth had in no way raised his tones from the cold level of his manner atthe beginning. His victim had only a shadowy impression of him. He sawonly a hazy outline in the blackness of the forest; and he needed nofurther sight to convince him. There was sufficient in the tone, and inthe pressure of the gun at his head. He knew the rest. Here was a suddencollapse of all his schemes. There could be no resistance. Seth had thedrop on him.
"I'll go," he said sullenly.