Spirit of Pretty-Eagle!

Pretty Eagle's Story:

The Crows love their land.  That valley of the Echeta Casha* which the White Father in Washington has given them to be theirs as long as there is one Crow left to claim it belonged to them many hundreds of snows ago--before moccasin of white man ever pressed the plains.  White Eagle [William Allen] knows I do not speak with crooked tongue.

I nodded. He went on:

'Nowhere else is to be found such beauty of mountain and valley. There sparkling streams of cold water never dry nor does tall, rich buffalo grass ever wither.  The Crows have never feared winter cold nor summer heat for they have had many buffalo and elk to give them food and to clothe them to shelter them from falling snows and sun's rays.  They have had wild geese and ducks and sage hens, deer and antelope.  The Great Spirit placed along the streams for His children plum thickets, service bushes, chokecherry and bull-berry bushes.  The mouths of our papooses are red in spring with strawberries.  Everything man needs for his health and happiness is to be found in the valley of the Echeta Casha--the land of the Crows.

'All this White Eagle, friend of the Crow people, already knows.  This our enemy, Sioux and Blackfeet and Pawness, also knew.  And, though the Crows said nothing when enemy came to hunt our buffalo, yet the enemy were not satisfied.  They wished to possess our beautiful land for their own.

'It is said by our fathers, who were told by their father's fathers, that once the Absarokees, known to the pale faces as 'The Crows', were part of the Gros Ventre tribe, speaking the same language, and that we all came from the Dakotas.  We know now only that for many long snows we have lived in this valley extending from the Big Horn Mountains and the Pryors down to the Echeta Casha which the palefaces call the 'Yellowstone River.' 

'I tell you as my father's father told him and as he told me.  Three hundred and fifty snows ago there was a young brave of the Absorokee people named 'Rolling Thunder,' the son of big Chief Sits-Down-Spotted.  This young brave went into a Pawnee camp to take from them picketed horses and make coup.  There he saw a Pawnee girl.  Her voice was like the soft music of wind in pine trees.  Her beauty was the beauty of the sun as it slips down behind the mountains.  Her eyes spoke to him and he took her to be his woman and the he forgot the land of his fathers and became a member of the Pawnee tribe.  Soon he learned their language and was appointed headman and even became member of the Pawnee Soldier's Lodge.

'Ane when he looked upon his woman his heart sang, but when he gazed across the valley to the far peaks that sheltered the tepee of Sits-Down-Spotted his heart was heavy.

'Then one day as he, with the members of the Pawnee Soldier's Lodge, met in council with men of the Shoshones and Sioux and Nez Perces and Blackfeet--men of all tribes except the Absorokees--Rolling Thunder learned that which made his heart cold.  They were gathered about the fire--all these wise men--and they talked the sign language, lest even the trees and rocks hear their wicked plans.  And he learned that all the tribes meant to band together, after cold had turned the leaves of trees red, and fight the Absarokees, known now as Crows, and take from them their beautiful land.

'When Rolling Thunder learned that, he could not speak.  But he knew that more than all esle--more than women or children--he loved his own people and the land that for hundred of snows had belonged to them.  He was married to a Pawnee woman.  He had been taken into Pawnee tribe.  They trusted him. But he knew now that he could not fight with them against people of his own blood.

'Silently when the council meeting was over he got up and went away, out into the woods where it was still.  He wished to be alone so that he could think what was best for him to do.

'His Pawnee woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, followed him. "Where are you going?"

'He looked down at her.  She was beautiful and he loved her.  He said: "I am sick.  I go to the great warm springs".  (Thermopolis)

'She gazed into his face. "I wish to go with you," she said, for she knew that he spoke with crooked tongue.

'Rolling Thunder could not meet her eyes.  "No," he said.  "There are enemy on the warpath.  They are scattered like fallen leaves in the wind."

"Yes," she said. "I know.  And that is why I wish to go with you."

'He shook his head.  "I am not going to the warm springs. I go to hunt buffalo."

"I can ride," the Pawnee girl said. "Not like a woman, like a brave.  Even though we meet many enemies, with you I feel no fear."

'Then he knew he must speak the truth to his woman.  He loved her; they were young; they had known happiness together.  "There is to be war," he said. "Your people against my people.  You are a Pawnee.  I am an Absarokee.  I go.  You stay."

'She looked at him with flashing eyes.  "Your heart does not speak," she said, "only your lips.  I am your woman; you are my man."

'He thought she did not understand.  "I am going back to my father", he told her, "and I will fight with him against your people."

"Absarokee--nothing", she answered, "Pawnee--nothing.  Where you go, I go also."

'So that night, when all the camp was asleep, Rolling Thunder and his woman stole away.  They rode swift buffalo ponies and led a pack of horse loaded with food and clothing, for it was a journey of many sleeps from the Pawnee camp to that of the Absarokee up in the Pryor Mountains.  They wound close to the foot of the mountains so they might rush up into ca`nons and hide if enemy approached, and they traveled the dark trail, resting in the day time far back among the pines.

'As they rode on, Rolling Thunder and his woman, his heart was warm with joy.  Many snows had passed since he had left his people.  Now he was returning to them and with him was the beautiful Pawnee woman.  He could not keep the song from his lips but he said to her often during that journey:

"You will not grieve for your people?"

'And she would answer him: "Once, for me, you gave up your people. Now, for you, I give up my people. I ask only that if there is war you spare my father.  He had been kind to you.  He is old."

'And Rolling Thunder promised.

'After many sleeps they came to Pryor Pass which was then, more than three hundred snows ago, just as it is now, a narrow valley with mountains on one side and a high wall of buttes on the other.  The blood of the young braves flowed swift and warm in his veins because he was once more in the land of his fathers where every rock and tree and running stream recalled to him adventures of his boyhood.

'But now, as he gazed about, and saw far up the valley, another sleep away, the village of the Absarokees and the big tepee of his father with the golden eagle flashing on its topmost pole, his lips no longer sang.  For he knew that the enemy, all the Pawnees and Blackfeet and Cheyennes and Sioux, meant to join and come rushing through that narrow pass and along the valley to attack his people.  And he knew that in the valley his people, so few in number, would be slaughtered and their beautiful land lost to them forever.

'He rode on heavy heart, crossed Pryor Creek, and came to that narrow, high-walled ca`non that runs west toward the setting sun.  White Eagle remembers the canon of which I speak?'

"Yes," I told him, "I remember the place."

'Rolling Thunder stopped and looked about him, back at the pass and the widening valley through which the enemy would come from the north, and then at the ca`non.  He signed for his woman to wait and rode a little way up into the ca`non.  When he returned she saw that there was a smile upon his lips.

'We love deeply.  Our enemies we hate, but love for our own sinks down into our hearts and remains there forever. '

There was feasting and dancing in the village of the Absarokee that night, for the son of their chief had returned.  A crier rode through the village chanting strange words until all the people came running out from tepees to hear his message. 

'And he cried:

"Rolling Thunder has returned and has brought with him a Pawnee woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, daughter of chief Red Tomahawk.

'Then all the Mountain Crows and all the River Crows put on their feast customes and gathered around the campfire and there was feasting and dancing and singing and speech-making.

'But when the feasting was over and women and children had gone to their tepees, when there remained around the fire only chiefs and headmen and medicine men, runners and wolves, then Rolling Thunder spoke.

"My heart sings," he told them, "because I am once more with my own people."

'The the father, Chief Sits-Down-Spotted, drew a few puffs from his red stone pipe and touched the bowl to the ground.  He held it aloft and gazed at it in silence.  Then he pointed the stem to the east, the west, the north, the south.

'After the peace-pipe smoke Rolling Thunder rose and spoke: "I have come from the land of the Pawnees, the land of our enemy.  The enemy are as many as the blades of grass on our plains.  They know that though we, the Absarokee, are brave of heart, we are few.  They desire our land with its many fat buffalos and deer and mountain sheep, its tall grasses and running streams.  Before another moon they will come down from the north, through the pass into our valley, Pawnees and Cheyennes and Sioux and Blackfeet, to take from us our horses and our land, to slaughter our women and children.  They have already started on the warpath and have come as far as Clarks Fork and the mouth of Wind River.  There they have camps.  From these camps they send signals and, at the proper moment, they will join and rush in upon us.  We cannot escape.  There are mountains where the sun rises and mountains where the sun sets.  They will trap us in ous valley like bear in a cave.  I have spoken."

'Rolling Thunder sat down.

'His father, Sits-Down-Spotted, asked him: "All this you know?  You speak no idle woman talk?"

" 'All this I know," said Rolling Thunder. "I have heard members of the Soldier's Lodge make plans. My woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, heard Pawnee wolves talk after they had been on lookout peaks where they could see all the valley of the Absarokee.  Before another moon they will be upon us.' "

.  .  .  'I tell you the story as my father's father told it to him.

'In the valley south of Pryor Pass, near Pryor Creek, even today, are mounds covered with stones and overgrown with greasewood, two very high mounds and many smaller ones.  Some say they are to mark an old trail, but that is not so.  No paleface knows their history.  All Indians riding by, even to this day, add a stone to the pile, though few understand why.  They do not know they are erecting a monument to Crow Warriors killed in the fiercest battle fought by Indian tribes.

'It was the time when wild geese fly south to winter sun.  Runners were sent to warn River Crows and soon they came to join the Mountain Crows, bringing with them women and children, horses and dogs.  And yet, though all the valley between mountain ranges was covered with tepees of our people, we were to our enemy as but one star in the Blue.  Wolves stationed on high points looking across rivers and ca`nons and valleys watched for approach of the foe, while swift runners waited their signals, ready to dash into camp with messages.

'In Crow village everyone was busy, hearts heave with anxiety.  For, if our enemy won in the terrible battle soon to take place, then those of our people who were left would be driven from their land of plenty and must take with them all they could carry of food and clothing.  So the women worked from rising sun to its setting, worked for their men and children and the country they loved.  They cut up the meat the hunters were bringing in daily from the kill and hung it up to dry.  They gathered bull-berries for pemmican--enough to fill all their parfleche boxes.  They made moccasins and bed robes and body robes and covers of buffalo hides for the tepees.

'Meanwhile some of the men hunted buffalo and other made war clubs and strong bows and many sharp arrows.  And each night, when Old Woman has high in the Blue, all the wise men gathered around the council fire and talked war talk.  And some thought they should do this and some thought they should do that.  But Rolling Thunder said:

"We dare not fight our enemy in the open for we are too few."

'The eyes of Chief Sits-Down-Spotted flashed. 

"Would you have us run from the enemy as buffalo runs from the hunter?"

'Rolling Thunder sprang from his feet. "I have a plan!  As I, with my Pawnee woman, came from the south through Pryor Pass I saw a ca`non. narrow and high, running west from the valley.  I would have all our warriors, save fifty young men, gather in that ca`non with food for many days and war clubs and arrows.  I would have our women fix bushes and small trees across the opening as though they grew there.  Then, when our wolves tell us the enemy is approaching from Wind River and Clark Fork, I would lead fifty young braves close to the Pass through which they must come.  We would be mounted on the swiftest of buffalo ponies.  We would seem to the enemy not warriors, only young men hunting.  They would pursue us and we would lead them on, though beyong reach of their arrows, until they had shot them all toward us.  Then, when all their arrows were used, we would dash past the mouth of the ca`non and the Crow Warriors hidden there could spring out upon them.  If our medicine is strong and if the Great Spirit is kind to us we shall save our land for our children and our children's children forever.  I have spoken."

'Old Chief Sits-Down-Spotted saod nothing, but his heart sang for it was his son who had spoken wise words.

'One of the warriors said: "The heart of Rolling Thunder is young but his head is old.  We will do in all things as he advises."

'Then, said Rolling Thunder, "Let us waken women and children and move camp at once, traveling the dark trail, so enemy wolves cannot see and guess our plans."

'As the young brave had said, so it was done.  Before another sleep all our Crow people, except fifty young men, were concealed back in the ca`non along Pryor Creek with horses and dogs and food to last many sleeps.  And while they waited behind the blind of pine trees that our women had thrust into the ground, many times the Old Woman rose high in the Blue and sank behind mountain peaks.  And still our wolves on lookout points saw no sign of approaching enemy.

'But, after many sleeps, one morning early the Crows heard a dull rumbling they knew to be the beat of thousands of hoofs upon the earth.  Soon large herds of buffalo came pouring through the pass and into the valley as though they were being driven.  Soon all the valley was dark with them.

'Women said: "The Great Spirit is kind to his children, the Crows.  He loves us best.  He is sending all the buffalo in the world to us."

'But Rolling Thunder said: "The time has come.  Our enemy must be advancing in such vast numbers that they cover all the valley of Echeta Casha Asha, driving buffalos ahead of them.  Now I, with my fifty braves, will hurry to the pass and pretend to hunt buffaloes and lead the enemy to the ca`non.

'He was about to leap upon his horse, but the Pawnee woman, Breeze-of-the-South-Wind, ran up to him and stood before him, her hand upon his arm.

" 'Your are going to fight my people,' she said.  "It is well, for I am your woman and my heart is with your people, the Absarokees.  But my father, Red Tomahawk, Chief of the Pawnees, is old.  His heart beats slow, hiw sinews are tired.  He desired peace with your people but when his young men talked big war talk he could do nothing.  If you win in today's battle I ask that you spare my father. 

'Rolling thunder looked down into the face of his woman, looked long, for he might never see her again.  His heart was heavy.  He said: "If I live I will bring your father back to you."

"And if an enemy's arrow pierces your heart, then another shall pierce mine and I will join you in the Happy Hunting Ground, for I would not wish to remain long upon the earth without you."

'The Rolling Thunder and his fifty braves rode slowly on southward toward Pryor Pass, shooting at buffalo, a song upon their lips.  They followed the trail past the high peak of red stone which stands there today, just as it did three hundred snows ago.  And things happened as they had planned.  The enemy came pouring through Pryor Pass like waters of a great river, all the tribes of the south, joined against the Absarokees.  They came yelling their war cries and waving their tomahawks.  They wore war bonnets that trailed on the ground.  Their faces were ugly with paint.

'And when they saw the little band of young Crow hunters running from them like rabbits making their holes, they rent the air with war whoops.  They quirted their horses and filled the air with arrows that fell harmlessly just back of the fleeing Crows.  And the Crows scurried this way and that across the valley, trying to dodge arrows, trying to lead the enemy on toward the ca`non.

'You Palefaces know that valley.  Your cattle graze there.  You go to built camp fires on Pryor Creek and make coffee and then lie down to sleep where all is peace and stillness, without thought of fear.  None of you know of that day three hundred and fifty years ago when hearts beat fast with fear, when the air was loud with shrieks of warriors, when the long grass was stained red with blood of Crow, Sioux, Pawnee and Cheyenne, when the pure waters of the creek were damned by heaped-up bodies of the dying, staggering there, mad with thirst.

'You speak of the beautiful valley as "The Crow Reservation," given us by the White Father.  You do not know that the Crows bought that land with their lives, paid for it in suffering and blood. 

'Some few of Rolling Thunder's braves fell that day under shower of enemy arrows.  When he thought that most of the arrows had been spent, he, with those of his men who were left, dashed back across Pryor Creek and past the mouth of the ca`non.  On he went with his small band, the enemy close at heel, yelling, ready to spring on them with war clubs and scalping knives, riding into the trap set for them.

'Suddenly the thick forest of little trees fell as though before a strong wind and from out the ca`non, closing in upon the surprised enemy, poured all the hidden Crow Warriors.  They were still out-numbered three to one, but their horses were fresh and their arrows many and they were fighting for that which was nearest their hearts--Home and Children.

'All though the long day they fought until the air was filled with the whine of flying arrows and shrieks of wounded horses and moans of dying men.  Men pulled arrows our of dead bodies to use them over again.  They fought hand-to-hand with war clubs and knives.  They fought until, as the sun sank down behind the mountains, those of the enemy who were spared went crawling back through the Pass to their camps on Wind River, leaving dead and dying.

'Then the victorious Crows killed dying warriors and dying horses, to end their suffering.  And they placed bodies in piles--both the enemy and their own people--one at the foot of Red Rock Peak, another farther north along the trail and still others as they fell, here and there across the valley.  They placed beside them strips of dried meat to last them on the journey across the Slippery Log, and war clubs, and the bodies of their horses.  Then they covered all with mounds of earth and stone.  That was three hundred years ago but the mounds are still there.  White Eagle has seen them.'

'I, Pretty Eagle, Chief of the Mountain Crows, have told this to my white brother, White Eagle.  It is the story of the fiercest battle ever fought between Indian tribes.  He will put it in a book for palefaces to read so they may understand why the Absarokees whom they speak of as 'Crows' love their land, the valley of the Echeta Casha Asha, with such deep love.  It was purchased with the blood of brave men.  I have spoken.'

'But say, what happened of Red Tomahawk?' {Allen asked}

The big chief sighed and smiled.  "Rolling Thunder captured him early in the battle and hid him safely in the ca`non back of the trees.  That night he was led to the camp of the Crows and there, with his daughter and Rolling Thunder, he lived out his days in peace and happines."

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