Hawk Eye Part 1

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; fellowship 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."

Ice still lay thick upon the lake, but on the shallower waters it had begun to melt under the increasing warmth of the sun.

"Can they see us?" asked Hawk Eye as Raven Wing, who was in the lead, stopped at the further end of the grove.

"No. We have yet time to run across this open s.p.a.ce," answered the younger boy.

On reaching a thicket of willows, the boys halted; then crept in to almost the edge of a frozen stretch of swamp.

"Here they come!" whispered Raven Wing. As the flock settled on the marshland, Hawk Eye fitted an arrow to his bow. "I'll take the one close to the leader," he said. Almost simultaneously Raven Wing let fly his arrow. The feathered ash wood shafts sped to their marks and two birds fluttered and fell to earth. Alarmed at the fall of their comrades, the flock rose in the air, but before they could get beyond arrow range, two more birds dropped to earth.

"We've outwitted Slow Dog," chuckled Hawk Eye, as he made his way over the half-frozen ground to pick up his birds.

"He must return empty-handed," laughed Raven Wing, retrieving his arrows from the birds he had slain. "What do you intend to do with your first kill?" he asked.

"Give it to Old Smoky Wolf," answered Hawk Eye. "The goose first slain in the Spring is always made the occasion for a feast."

"I will give mine to my stepfather, Black Eagle," said Raven Wing. "He will be our chief when Old Smoky Wolf takes the trail of departed warriors."

"Because you have outwitted him, Slow Dog will now bear another grudge against you," went on Hawk Eye.

"Perhaps it were better had I not seen the geese," sighed Raven Wing. "I would not be the cause for further trouble between him and my stepfather."

"Slow Dog would find one if it suited his fancy," said Hawk Eye. "He has a tongue with two ends, like a serpent's. But he has no need to look for an excuse. He has not forgotten that it was you who discovered the buffalo herd during the great blizzard and so saved us all from starvation. Had you not done so, he would have succeeded in convincing many that the famine had been sent by the G.o.ds to punish us all for allowing your mother to hunt with the men. You, he hates. But for you, he might have persuaded the tribe to elect him chief in place of Old Smoky Wolf."

"He hates Black Eagle," said Raven Wing, sadly.

"Because he knows our warriors will choose Black Eagle to succeed Old Smoky Wolf," added Hawk Eye.

As the boys neared camp, Slow Dog came out of the bushes by the river bank. A scowl spread over his face on seeing the dead geese. "He is a great hunter when the birds fly down to be killed," he sneered.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SLOW DOG CAME OUT OF THE BUSHES BY THE RIVER BANK.]

"Had they not changed their course, your arrow would have slain one,"

answered Raven Wing, quietly.

Slow Dog turned on his heel and walked to his tepee. The two boys continued on their way. Presently they halted beside Old Smoky Wolf's lodge. At the sound of approaching footsteps, the aged chief had bade his wife go out to greet whoever the visitors might be.

Hawk Eye handed her one of the birds he had slain. "'Tis the first goose brought to earth. Hawk Eye would present it to our chief," explained the boy. As he and Raven Wing were about to turn away, Old Smoky Wolf appeared in the doorway of the lodge. He gravely thanked Hawk Eye on learning of the gift.

"You both shall come to the feast," he added kindly. The boys thanked him and as they turned away, a smile spread over Old Smoky Wolf's wrinkled face.

"My tribe are not women. A brave is no stranger in my village. These boys will become great hunters. At the sound of their moccasins the beaver will lie down to be killed," grunted the old chief.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {Hunter and buffalo.}]