After a restless
night the contest of medicines was to begin. Owl was happy that he had had a warm and loving companion to share his robe through the long hours of darkness. Not merely physical was the strength he derived from this girl. Willow, from the time he first saw her as a prisoner long ago, had had the ability to bring out the best in him.
They had whispered long through the night, mostly about nothings. However, when the time came to face the morning and all the stresses of the day, Owl felt that he was at his best. His slim wife had again managed to make him feel that he was the strongest, most astute, and most capable man alive.
The group went again to the crest of the hill and Many Robes outlined the conditions of the contest.
“You will see,” he pointed, “a ridge to the west, with several little canyons.”
Yes, it was apparent, several fingerlike projections from the main ridge formed a series of similar canyons between, each opening onto the level plain before them. Owl began to see the way the contest would take place.
“There are two canyons better than the rest.” The chief pointed.
Yes, it was true. Near the center of the formation, two of the blind-end canyons were very similar in shape. Both had narrow entrances, but opened out inside.
Prior to the use of elk-dogs in hunting, this would have been an extremely important type of formation. For more reasons than a dog has hairs, the People had hunted buffalo in similar areas. The medicine man had used such a canyon as a trap, enticing the animals within the natural walls. Then the entrance had been blocked by hunters, who could more easily kill the buffalo attempting to pass them at the narrow spot.
Now, the old skills were to be used again. Owl thought briefly of how he had resented the gruff old medicine man's insistence that he learn. Now he was thankful.
“You will each use one canyon.”
Owl quickly evaluated the two best sites. One had a slightly narrower neck, harder to make the animals enter, but perhaps better grass inside. The most northerly of the two canyons, he decided, would be the most desirable.
“I will cast the plum stones to choose which canyon you will use.”
Many Robes took forth a small pouch and shook out five plum seeds. One side of each was painted red. He shook them in his cupped palms and prepared to roll them upon a flat stone.
“Owl, you are reds!” He tossed the objects, and they bounced and skittered to a stop. Two showed the painted surface, three the natural color of the seed. Many Robes turned to Two Dogs.
“Yours is the choice”
Of course, Two Dogs chose the best of the two canyons. No matter, thought Owl. There was little difference anyway.
“Now,” Many Robes was speaking again, “you may start at any point on this side. You will put as many buffalo as you can into your canyon.” He paused long enough to thrust a spear upright into the ground. “When the shadow of my spear falls upon this rock,” he pointed, “the contest is over. Whoever has the most buffalo has the strongest medicine and will become White Buffalo! We will watch from here.” His tone, slightly more firm than necessary, said plainly that the real-chief would be on the watch for trickery.
Owl took the calfskin cape from his grandfather and adjusted it carefully around his shoulders and head. He must look as much as possible like one of the yellowish calves playing in the meadow below. He clasped his grandfather's hand and embraced Willow. Then he turned and started down the ridge.
After a few hundred paces Owl shrugged into his crouch and turned directly into the herd. It was slow. It must be. His actions must be in direct mimicry of those of a calf. Faster motion would startle the great beasts, and they must remain undisturbed at all costs.
He threaded through the herd, apparently aimlessly, but working toward the opening of the blind canyon assigned to him. He gradually began to get the feel of the mood of the herd. He was “inside their heads,” as old White Buffalo had expressed it. Their mood was quiet and peaceful. The herd had been grazing quietly in the area for some time, and there still appeared adequate grass. The situation was ideal for such a test as now presented, Owl believed.
He worked among the animals for a time until he was sure of the animals' attitude, and then began his task. He noticed a pair of calves cavorting playfully near the canyon's mouth, and joined them in play. The two calves,
enticed by their strange playmate, drew out away from the herd, until finally a cow called a warning.
Now was a critical moment. Owl kicked up his heels and scampered toward the opening, followed by the calves. The cow's bellow became more insistent, and she came lumbering after her errant offspring. The dam of the other calf, now noticing something amiss, rose and trotted after. A large bull which had been in their company followed ponderously, and a yearling calf joined the procession. Good! The first few were most important. A variety of ages and sexes would more easily encourage others to join the little band.
Owl led the group well inside and into choice lush grass before he slipped away and returned to the open prairie. He wondered how Two Dogs was faring. Had his opponent actually spent the hours and days necessary to do this sort of work? The uneasy thought crossed his mind that perhaps Two Dogs was even better than he. And, so much depended on luck. A chance false move, a startled animal beginning to run, and all would be over.
He looked in the direction of Two Dogs' area of effort, but could see nothing beyond the hundreds of slowly moving animals.
He selected a new calf that appeared to want to play, and began to maneuver it to the edge of the herd. The cow followed, with another yearling, probably her last year's calf. Owl was disappointed to spend so much time for only three animals, but they moved to join his previous nucleus, and he returned to the herd again. He was uneasy. There was a limit to the number of times the buffalo would tolerate his movement through the herd before they became uneasy.
But, as he approached the main herd again, he noticed a couple of coyotes trotting among the scattered animals at the edge. There were always coyotes among the herds, and sometimes the big prairie wolves, too. The animals circled,
waiting, hoping for a sick or injured calf. This kept the strength of the breeding herd at a good level, Owl knew, by the elimination of weaker individuals. He watched the pair of coyotes, wondering if in some way he could use their presence.
Suddenly the nearest of the animals turned, directly facing him, and sat on its haunches. The head cocked whimsically to one side, and clear yellow eyes stared straight into his. There was something familiar about the pose, and the facial expression of the coyote. Even then, it took him a moment to recognize his medicine animal.
As soon as Owl made recognition, the coyote turned and trotted away, but the meaning of the visit was clear. The day was to be good. His medicine animal was with him.
True
to his
expectation, the next sortie into the herd netted twelve more animals. Those inside the canyon were beginning to bed down comfortably, and the newcomers joined them, completely undisturbed. Owl wondered about how much time might be left, and cast a glance at Sun Boy's torch. He was unable to tell. He must simply continue to work buffalo until notified that the trial was over, he supposed. It bothered him a little. The main herd might become restless, and his smaller group would attempt to rejoin them if a general move began.
He turned again into the herd, stepping cautiously around an irritable-looking old bull. Suddenly he noticed a subtle change in the mood of the animals. There was nothing at first that he could quite identify. It was merely a quiet unrest, an uneasiness of mind. Owl would have missed it altogether, he thought, if he had not been inside their heads. He stood still, trying to identify the source of
the feeling. A yearling bull blundered past him, curiously seeking the source of the same unrest.
Owl was undecided. He could withdraw quietly and stand guard at the entrance to his trap to prevent the buffalo already there from leaving. That was probably the most sensible course, but what if Two Dogs had more animals gathered? Could he take that risk? Or, would he risk more to continue working the herd? He glanced around, hoping to see his medicine coyote again, but the creature was nowhere in sight.
With a feeling a little like panic, Owl wondered what was causing the growing restlessness in the herd. Several of the younger animals were moving in the same direction, ears pricked forward in curiosity and wonder. He decided to return to his gathered herd. The animals were becoming too restless to work with now.
His direction of progress was with the general drift of the disturbed buffalo. Then, ahead, Owl caught a glimpse of what must be the inciting factor. A handful of yearling calves were gathered around a misshapen light-colored object that moved in a strange unnatural fashion. At first he thought it was one of the big wolves. They were sometimes very light gray in color, but the movements were not appropriate. The creature moved like a buffalo, but was much smaller, and almost white in color.
The thought crossed his mind that here was a young white buffalo. If he could only entice that individual into his trap, he would prove that he was the possessor of the greatest of all buffalo medicine. The one animal would prove beyond a doubt who was more fit to inherit the title.
Owl moved to a position where he could better see the animal. Other buffalo shifted and shuffled, and dust rose, blocking his view. He must not lose sight of the sacred animal. He moved closer.
Then, with a shock, Owl realized the truth. The figure was that of a man. Two Dogs! He was actually wearing
the precious white cape of the medicine man, handed down through so many generations. What a fool, thought Owl, to risk the sacred object in the milling herd.
He had no way of knowing whether Two Dogs had started the contest wearing the white cape, or had changed at some time since. Regardless, it was a fool-hardy thing to do. The unusual appearance would be more likely to alarm the herd than quiet them. Could it be that Two Dogs believed the cape's medicine alone would protect him?
The other man moved closer, and Owl changed position to avoid the shifting of the restless animals. He lost sight of Two Dogs for a moment, and when he saw him again, the white-caped figure was closer yet.
At last Owl realized what was happening. The other man was maneuvering the disturbed animals to present a threat to his opponent. Three young bulls snorted and wheeled, almost running over him. Skillfully, Owl skipped aside, alert to the next danger.
Owl now realized that Two Dogs had never intended this to be a legitimate contest. The other expected to take the life of his challenger in any way he could. Owl was completely unarmed, but knew that Two Dogs would be carrying, at the very least, a concealed knife. He must avoid both his old enemy and the shifting, nervous buffalo, now beginning to snort with alarm and jump skittishly about. The fool could get them both killed, he now feared. He tried to retreat, but the crouching figure in the white cape moved closer, stepping among the animals. He did possess a certain amount of skill, Owl saw, but he was careless.
When the decisive event finally came, it was so sudden that even Owl was surprised. Two Dogs, intent on approaching his enemy, failed to observe the rudiments of his medicine. He allowed himself to come between an old cow and her small calf. The calf gave a short bleat of alarm, and the mother wheeled to defense.
White Buffalo had made much of this point. One must
never, never be caught between a cow and her calf. If a cow threatens, put her calf in front of you. Two Dogs, having forgotten these basics in the passion of the moment, now stood completely defenseless. He tried to jump, but the massive head of the angry cow swept him aside as she drove to reach her terrified calf.
Two Dogs, now off balance, was flung against one of the big herd bulls. The animal, already irritated and on the alert by the bleating of the calf, now perceived this strange creature as the threat to the herd. The great head swung, and a polished black horn pierced soft under parts of the intruder. In the space of a heartbeat the head swung upward, tossing Two Dogs high over the backs of the animals. Not until then did he scream. It was a long, shrill death scream, throwing nearby animals into a running frenzy.
Owl saw the frantically flopping white-robed figure strike the rump of a young cow, and she lurched forward in a panic. The others began to run, and an earth-shaking rumble began to spread as hundreds of startled buffalo started to stampede.
Before he quite realized it, Owl was running, too. All sense of direction was gone. There was only one, that of the herd. In a moment he managed to clear his thoughts, trying to create some sort of plan as he ran.
His long hours and days of training with the buffalo had put one thing foremost. When working with buffalo, one must appear to be a calf. He must move, act, walk, even smell like a calf. Now, he thought grimly, he must run like a calf. He was already sprinting as fast as he could, trying to match the speed of the herd. Fortunately, he found himself in a group of cows and calves. The small animals were just a bit slower, and the cows were holding back a trifle to wait for the youngsters. Owl saw a calf running, pressing close against the flank of the mother. Perhaps he could imitate. He leaned toward an animal on his right, and grasped a handful of thick curly hair at the shoulder. By holding
tightly, he was partly carried along and was able to maintain more nearly the speed of the animals. The cow tossed her head at him, but was more concerned with running.
Owl's lungs were burning, his legs tiring rapidly. Soon he must let go and when he did, he would instantly be trampled by the animals running behind. This thought alone kept him moving, running for life.
An animal just ahead stumbled and rolled, then another, and something struck him just below the left knee. He realized that this portion of the herd must have run into a strip of limestone rimrock. A large square boulder loomed ahead and he half fell and scrambled behind it, dragging his injured leg.
It seemed a long time that the thunder of the herd continued. Animals fell, were injured, scrambled up and continued to run, limping. He must have been near the edge of the herd when the panic started, he knew, or the push of the animals behind would have crushed those who fell. A buffalo stumbled over Owl's very boulder, almost landed on top of him where he crouched, and rolled to its feet to run on. Thick dust choked him, he could not see, or breathe, and he had to stifle the urge to jump to his feet and run in a panic.
It was nearly nightfall before the herd began to thin, and complete dark before the choking dust settled to allow him to look around. He tried to stand, and found that he could not use his left leg. Frustrated, he wrapped himself in his calfskin for warmth and settled down for the night.
It was probably just as well, he decided, that he must stay here. He had no clear idea of direction anyway. Perhaps he could see more in the morning.