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FOREST AND STREAM. 

[Marc 31, 1906. 






















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In the Lodges of the Blackfeet. 

A Raid by the Crows. 
A sic chinook wind in the latter end of Feb- 
ruary cleared the river of ice, and the little snow 
in the coulées soon melted away. There was no 
more cold weather thereafter, grass showing 
green in the bottom lands in March. 
Life in camp was generally tranquil. One 
night some Assinaboines stole forty head of 
horses, and were not overtaken, although a 
large party followed their trail eastward as far 
as Hairy Cap butte. Their coup stick, a long 
arrow, to which was tied a large scalp, was 
found sticking in the ground in the heart of our 
camp the morning after the theft, causing the 
people much chagrin. It was practically a 
message from the enemy, reading something like 
this: “We present you with a scalp, which 
we tore from the head of a member of your 
tribe. We have taken some of your horses. 
We are Assinaboines,” for the tribe was known 
by the peculiar make of the arrow. ‘They will 
hear from us as soon as summer comes,” said 
the young men. The Blackfeet did not often 
start on raids in cold weather. On the other 
hand, Assinaboine war parties seemed to prefer 
the most inclement months of winter for their 
expeditions. They were a very cowardly peo- 
ple, and realized that they ran less risk of being 
discovered and made to fight at a time when 
the enemy went abroad only to hunt in the 
vicinity of camp. 
I shall never forget another morning, when, 
for a few moments, it seemed as if we all must 
face a terrible death. The evening before a 
vast herd of buffalo had been discovered two or 
three miles back from the river—a herd so large 
that it was said the valley of Cow Creek and the 
hills on each side of it were black with them as 
far as one could see. Soon after sunrise many 
hunters, with their women following on travois 
horses, had gone out to run this herd and get 
meat. An hour or so later they charged in 
among them on their trained runners, splitting 
the herd in such a way that about a thousand or 
more broke straight down the valley toward the 
camp. This was the part of the herd that they 
chased, for the nearer to camp the killing was 
done the easier it was to pack in the meat. 
Down the valley the frightened animals fled, 
followed by their tenacious pursuers. We in 
camp heard the thunder of their hoofs and saw 
the cloud of dust they raised, before the animals 
tnemselves came in sight. Our lodges were 
pitched on the lower side of the bottom, between 
the creek and the steep, bare, rocky ridge to the 
east. Every man, woman and child of us had 
hurried outside to witness the chase, for it was 
not every day that we had such an opportunity. 
It was really far more exciting to see such a 
run near at hand than to take part in it. When 
one mounted his runner and flung into the thick 
of the herd, he saw only the particular animals 
he chased and shot or shot at; he had not time 
nor sense for anything else. But the spectator 
of the run saw much. First of all, he was im- 
pressed with the mighty power of the huge 
shaggy, oddly shaped beasts charging madly by 
him with a thunderous pounding of hoof and 
rattle of horns, causing the ground to tremble 
as if from an earthquake; and then to see the 
hunters, their long hair streaming in the wind, 
guiding their trained mounts here and there in 
the thick of it all, singling out this fat cow or 
that choice young bull, firing their guns or 
leaning over and driving an arrow deep into 
the vital part of the great beast; to see the plain 
over which they passed become dotted with the 
dead, with great animals standing head down, 
swaying, staggering, as the life blood flowed 
from mouth and nostrils, finally crashing over 
on the ground, a limp and lifeless. heap. Ah! 
that was a sight! That is what we, standing 
by our lodges, saw that morning. No one 
cheered the hunters, nor spoke, nor laughed. 
It was too solemn a moment. We saw death 
abroad; huge, powerful beasts, full of tireless 
energy, suddenly stricken into so many heaps 
of senseless meat and hide. Paradoxical as it 
may seem, the Blackfeet reverenced, spoke with 
awe of, regarded as “medicine” or sacred, these 
animals which they killed for food, whose hides 
furnished them with shelter and clothing. 
A band of horses drinking at the river be- 
came frightened at the noise of the approaching 
herd. They bounded up the bank and raced out 
over the bottom, heads and tails up, running 
directly toward the herd, which swerved to the 
eastward, crossed the creek, and came tearing 
down our side of it. The rocky ridge hem- 
ming in the bottom was too steep for them to 
climb with anything like speed, so they kept on 
in the flat directly toward the lodges. Such a 
scampering as ensued! Some in their terror ran 
wildly around, stopping behind one lodge a 
moment, then running to the shelter of an- 
other. Women screamed, children bawled, men 
shouted words of advice and command. I seized 
hold of Nat-ah’-ki, ran with her over to one of 
Berry’s wagons, and got her up in it. In a 
moment both his and Sorrel Horses’ wagons 
were filled with people, others crouching under 
and standing in lines behind them. Persons in 
the vicinity of the ridge clambered up among 
the rocks. Those near the creek jumped down 
in it, but many stood helplessly behind their 
lodges in the center of the camp. Now, the 
leaders of the herd reached the outer edge of 
the village. They could not draw back, for 
those behind forced them forward, and they 
loped on, threading their way between the 
lodges, nimbly jumping from side to side to 
avoid them, kicking out wickedly at them as 
they passed. For all his great size and uncouth 
shape, the buffalo was a quick and active ani- 
mal on his feet. 
I had taken shelter behind one of the wagons 
with many others and watched the brown living 
stream surge by, winding in and out between 
the lodges as a river winds past the islands and 
bars in its channel. Not one of us but was 
frightened; we held our breath in anxious sus- 
pense, for we well knew that almost anything— 
the firing of a gun or sight of some suspicious 
object ahead—might throw the herd into con- 
fusion, and if it turned or bunched up in a com- 
pact mass, people would surely be trampled to 
death by them, lodges overturned, the greater 
part of camp reduced to irreparable ruin. To 
us it seemed a very long time, but in reality no 
more than a couple of minutes elapsed ere the 
last of the herd had passed out beyond the 
outer lodges into the river and across it to the 
opposite side. No one had been hurt, not a 
lodge had been overturned. But long scaffolds 
of drying meat, many hides and pelts of various 
animals pegged out on the ground to dry, had 
either disappeared or been cut into small frag- 
ments. That, indeed, was an experience to be 
remembered; we were thankful to have escaped 
with our lives. When we thought what would 
have happened had we got in the way of the 
rushing herd, we shuddered. When Nat-ah’-ki 
said: “How good was the Sun to keep us un- 
harmed through this great danger.’ I am 
sure that she voiced the sentiment of all. The 
next day I noticed that the trees and high 
bushes bordering the river were bright with 
the peoples’ offerings or sacrifices to their god. 
They gave always of their best, their choicest 
and most prized ornaments and finery. 
The winter was now gone. Berry and Sorrel 
Horse started for Fort Benton with theif fami- 
lies and the last loads of their winter’s trade. 
They had done exceedingly well, and concluded 
to remain for a time at the fort. Berry declared 
that he would do no more freighting to the 
mines with his bull train; he would either sell 
it or employ some one as a train-master. The 
Piegans still had a large number of prime robes, 
wolf pelts and other skins on hand, which they 
were to trade at the fort, but instead of going 
there direct, they decided to circle southward, 
up the Judith River, thence around to the north 
by way of Arrow Creek and the foot of the 
Highwood Mountain. I went with them, agree- 
ing to meet Berry at the fort and plan with him 
for the ensuing season’s trade. 
So, one warm, sunny day in the end of 
March, camp was broken, and crossing the wide, 
shallow ford of the river at Cow Island, we 
