Part 1 (1/2)
Hawk Eye.
by David Cory.
FOREWORD
There is a secure immortality and a depth of intuition in the utterance of Wordsworth, the peer of nature's poets, when from his pastoral reed he strikes the notes:
”The child is father of the man.”
Nothing could be more insistently and persistently true of the Indian child--the girl to be the mother of warriors, the boy to become a hero and the father of future ”braves.”
It goes back, all of it, to a heredity born of three vital and vitalizing forces. The Indian holds with steadfastness and devotion to his many and weird ceremonies, but these all lead him back to the supreme, piloting force of his life, his unfailing faith in the Great Mystery.
The altar stairs to the spirit world are hills, b.u.t.tressed by granite; trees that talk with the winds--whispers from the spirit world; the thunder of the waterfall--the voice of the Great Mystery; stars--the footprints of warriors treading the highways of the Happy Hunting Ground. In all of these he sees G.o.d.
Falling into communion with this happy philosophy of life, the glory of Indian motherhood crosses our path--and there are few things more beautiful. When the day of expectation dawns upon her, she seeks the solitude of all the majesty in which from childhood she has seen the footprints of G.o.d--revels, communes, rehea.r.s.es to herself the heroism of the greatest hero of her tribe, and all that the impress of it may be felt upon the master man, the miracle of whose life has been entrusted to her to work out.
For the first two full years of his life, a spiritual hand guides his steps. There, in struggle and patience and self-denial, he must learn all of nature's glad story.
His grandparents then take him into their school. He learns to ride before he can walk; he is taught the use of the bow and arrow, which means. .h.i.tting the mark, keenness of vision, a steady aim, precision, so that when the crisis comes he is ready--an ample reason for the brave, effective and self-reliant conduct of the Indian soldier on the fields of France in the World War.
Deep breathing in the open air, giving full lung power; self-denial, giving strength of limb and endurance in the race; fellows.h.i.+p with all of nature's winsome and wild moods; a discerning will power; a steadfast reliance upon the guiding hand of the Great Spirit, empower the Indian boy to stand on all the high hills of history and challenge any militant force that may confront him.
The sphere is complete; Boy: Mother: G.o.d.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Signature, Joseph K Dixon]
Leader of the Rodman Wanamaker Historical Expeditions to the North American Indian
CHAPTER I
WILD GEESE
Slow Dog, Medicine Man, looked out of his lodge. Wild geese were honking overhead. To the Indian it meant the return of spring.
”I must be the first to kill one,” muttered Slow Dog. Entering his lodge, he presently came out with bow and arrows. Hastening toward a bend in the river which formed a sheltered cove, he hid among a clump of willow bushes and waited in the hope that the birds might come down to feed.
Slow Dog was not the only one to notice the geese, however. Two boys, one about fifteen years of age, the other, close to thirteen, had also heard the honking.
”Get your bow and arrows,” cried Hawk Eye, the elder, darting into his tepee. The younger boy, Raven Wing, ran to his lodge for his weapons. In a few minutes both were hurrying to the river.
”There's Slow Dog hiding in the bushes,” whispered Raven Wing. ”He wishes to be the first to bring one to earth.”
”Leave him there,” answered Hawk Eye, noticing that the flock, headed by an old gander, had slightly altered its course. ”The geese are making for the lake.” Breaking into a run, the boys headed for Big Stone Lake, from whose southern boundary issued the ”sky-tinted waters” of the Minnesota River.
As they hurried through the timber belt that bordered the river's edge, Raven Wing remarked, ”they may come down in the marsh.”