I hardly cared if I found them or not. A dulled sense of duty drove me on. There was Zintcallasappa. I must see her. After that, I hoped to turn my back on the prairies and never see them again. That was the first bitterness. As I rode back along the endless gray sea of the plains, I grew calmer, wiser. He who had gone to his death in the river, or to another life in the Western lands beyond it, knew better than I what was fitting in a man. No matter how my heart might ache for him, perhaps he was right. If he returned to live among his fellows, the law might find him out and damn the end of his days. He had made himself a war chief in one wild tribe; perhaps, if he lived, he would be a war chief again. And if we love the beauty of a hawk on the wing, should we, therefore, try to capture it and imprison it in a close cage?
I was in that humor when I found the tribe of Standing Bear at last. But they were now in the bosom of their nation. Two great bands under famous chiefs, hearing of the end of Bald Eagle, had joined Standing Bear’s men to participate in the celebrations. The feasting and the firewater filled the day with sleep and the night with hideous riot.
They greeted me like the God-sent deliverer of their race. Had there been a less deep melancholy resting on me, I should have been a happy man, indeed. But, as it was, I hated their noise. The entire lot of them, drunk and sober, lined the way with yelling as they led me to a great teepee and made me look inside. It was stacked with rifles, ammunition, meat, with furs and beadwork by the hundred weight. Here was more Indian wealth than I had ever seen before at a stroke of the eye. It was all mine. It was my share of the loot they had swept in during the raid of the Pawnee village that had followed, as a most natural course of events, the destruction of Bald Eagle’s chosen men. But this was only a part. Hundreds of the best horses were mine. And, if I were not contented with what I had, I should have more - as much more as I could ask and they could give. This was told me by Standing Bear while Three Buck Elk stood by, grinning and nodding like a happy child, and Sitting Wolf watched me with a trembling delight.
I had to make them a speech, of course. I told them that I was happy to have led them into success, that fortune had helped me, that Sitting Wolf had really delivered the decisive blow, but now I was going back to my own people. I had spent my last day among them. As for this heap of wealth, it should go to Zintcallasappa.
Sitting Wolf touched my arm almost timidly. “Brother,” he said in the deep silence that followed this announcement, “Zintcallasappa has fallen asleep, and she will waken no more.”
I remembered her thin face, her great dark eyes when I last saw her, and a new stab of sorrow reached my heart. It is strange, these things that unnerve us. I had borne the loss of my father - with an aching heart, God knows - but without a trace of unmanliness. This second and smaller blow brought tears to my eyes. I pressed my hand across them. The salt tears worked a way through.
Sitting Wolf cast his blanket over my head and led me away through that host of warriors, all silent with shame because so famous a warrior should have proved such a woman at the end. He led me to his own teepee, for since the battle he had led an independent life, had been voted a brave, and had been made worthy of a brave’s privileges by the entire tribe. There he sat down beside me, with his head turned a little away lest he should see my shameful grief. If there had been any working of pride in me, I suppose I should have controlled myself well enough. But there was no pride left in me. I was broken completely.
The sixteen-year-old warrior laid a hand on my arm. He said with a voice as gentle as a woman’s: “Dear brother, if the Dakotas wonder when they see Black Bear weep, I, Sitting Wolf, do not wonder. I understand, and my heart is sad. But all the Sioux are stricken with grief, for they have heard Black Bear say that he is turning back to his own people. Now I see the shadow of my father and my uncle in front of my teepee, and I know what they have come to say. Shall they enter, my brother?”
I made shift to dry my eyes, damning my weakness heartily. Then I motioned to Sitting Wolf, and he opened the flap of the teepee. In strode the two chiefs, wrapped formally in their blankets, staring at me with a sort of fear, as though they could not understand the sickness that had taken hold upon me. Standing Bear was the first to break the silence.
“Friend,” he said, “the Dakotas have heard Black Bear speak, and they have seen that he is angry. Therefore, they are sad. But they know why he is unhappy. Twice he has saved my brother’s son from death, and at last he has raised his paw and struck out of the air the great Bald Eagle who slew us like little lambs in the coming of spring. He has done all this, and last of all he has ridden alone onto the prairie. No man could follow him. The wind stopped and watched him dart across the prairie faster than an arrow, like a bullet that never grows weary. At last he found Bald Eagle. Three great warriors were with that mighty chief. They turned back, one by one, to stop Black Bear, and each fell and was left to make a scalp for the Dakotas and a prey for the wolves.”
He made a little pause here. The rascals had trailed me to the spot where I had disappeared across the river. So they had seen the dead Pawnees whom I had met. Standing Bear went on.
“Bald Eagle flew fast, but faster flew Black Bear. At last Bald Eagle turned. First they fought with rifles, and the bullets turned aside, fearing to strike such mighty chiefs. They stood closer and fought with their revolvers that speak many times, but still the bullets dared not strike. They leaped upon one another with their knives, but the steel would not bite. And then they closed on one another. Dreadful was the grip of Bald Eagle. Where his talons held the arms of Black Bear, the skin and the flesh were torn away.”
He pointed in proof to the big, ugly red fire scars upon my wrists. Three Buck Elk could not prevent a shudder of wonder and of admiration, but the orator went on: “Though Bald Eagle was mighty, still mightier was Black Bear, for he fought for the glory of the Dakotas. He took Bald Eagle by the throat. He strangled the wicked chief. He carried him to the smooth-sliding black river and gave his body to the water.
“Then Black Bear lay for a long time in the hills, resting, weak and sick, for his wounds were great… very great. But at last he was healed, and he came back to the Dakotas. He found them singing and drinking and feasting. The wealth of the Pawnees was their wealth. They had all that the heart could wish, and each brave was rich. But they took Black Bear to a single little teepee and told him that what was in it was his. Yet he had given them everything that gladdened their hearts. His own heart was broken, and he went to the teepee of his brother, Sitting Wolf, and he covered his head, saying that the Sioux are dogs and the sons of dogs.”
Here I interrupted. I wanted to tell him that I had not beaten Bald Eagle, but I knew that there was no use in saying such a thing. I would have to give proofs, and they already were sure of their knowledge, for they were aware that he was not among the Pawnees any longer. I could not speak of that subject, however, it made me too sick at heart. I told Standing Bear that they had given me more than my heart could have asked. But I must go back to my own kind. I wished to take with me the son of Zintcallasappa and one old squaw to take care of the child. Also, I would take with me the wealth the Dakotas had awarded me, not for my own sake so much as the sake of the child of Rising Sun.
It was a bitter stroke to both of the chiefs. I had brought them prosperity before, and they wanted more of it. They pointed out to me that we had barely made a beginning - that there were many, many more Pawnees - all villains, all horse thieves. When we had wiped out the Pawnees, there were other great tribes worthy of our wars. We would become sole lords of the prairies. How very little he tempted me. I simply shook my head and asked that the boy be brought to me. Sitting Wolf made a sign to them, and they ceased all persuasion at once.