摘录
Chapter One This was long ago, before the coming of the horse. The People hunted the buffalo, and deer and small game. They gathered nuts and berries and plums. The Forest Band had more of these than the bands farther west, who had more buffalo.... Each place to live has its problems and its good things, no? But they got along well, usually. Sometimes in the moons of late winter there was hunger, if they had not stored enough food, or if there was some unusual happening. Is the time just before Awakening not called the Moon of Hunger? Then, sometimes, it was the Moon of Starvation. But not usually. Times were good. The Forest Band of the People had attended the Sun Dance, and all the bands had scattered again, each to its own area.... The Western Band, not so far west then, had not yet divided into Mountain and Red Rocks Bands. There were the Northern and Southern Bands, and the Eastern Band, living like our own Forest Band, in the forested area north of us. Not so successfully, of course. You know how they are, the Eastern Band. One main problem of those of us who hunted the forests was always conflict with others. Our hunters would encounter hunters from other tribes, and there would be arguments, sometimes fighting. In that terrible year long ago, when the Forest Band returned from the Sun Dance to one of their favorite camping places, there were strangers living there. They were cutting poles and building houses, and it was not good. There was much anger on the part of the young men of both sides. The strangers spoke a different tongue, but knew some hand signs, so the chiefs were able to smoke the pipe and hold a council. It was agreed that there was no need for bloodshed, that it would be better to live in peace. Besides, the newcomers were big and strong and there were many of them. So, the People moved on, still in their usual area for hunting and camping, but a little farther to the south. The hunters sometimes encountered those of the invading new people, the "Shaved-heads," but by agreement, they respected each other's rights. The treaty seemed to be working. It was a hot summer, it is said, and that led to some irritation and impatience, maybe. It was in the Moon of Ripening, when they were beginning to gather and prepare food for storage against the coming Moons of Long Nights and Snows, that the trouble began. There was a young man, Big Dog, nephew of the band chief. He was a capable hunter, a good swimmer and wrestler, fast in a running race, and very handsome. Such a young man as we admire, who would someday be a leader, and whom all the young women saw as an ideal husband. But so far, he was more interested in hunting and sports and races and games. He was bright and cheerful and friendly to all of the young women, but had courted no one in particular yet. He did have a temper, which may have caused all of the trouble. Dog had been hunting with two friends, Black Snake and Jumper. They had stalked a deer very skillfully, and Big Dog finally struck it with an arrow. The three hurried after the big buck as it made its last dying leaps through the trees and brush. They lost sight of it, and when they finally picked up the trail of blood and tracked it a little way, they found a hunter in the process of kneeling to cut the throat and bleed the deer. Other hunters stood behind him. That is my kill! stated Big Dog, using hand signs. The other hunter laughed. I cut the throat! he indicated. The kill is mine! Dog rushed forward in anger and was met by the massed strength of the other party. His companions hurried to his aid. Jumper never even reached the fight, but was struck down by an arrow in midstride. Black Snake was struck a glancing blow with a war club and fell. When he tried to rise, half conscious and confused, he was overwhelmed by the enemy hunters. They tied his hands, and as his head cleared, Snake saw his friend Big Dog, also subdued and trussed. Snake realized that the side of his own head was covered with sticky blood. Dog had suffered a knife wound across his chest and another on his left forearm, but was awake and alert, and cursing quietly. There was a time of considerable discussion, with gesturing and pointing, which Snake did not understand. Finally the hunting party, numbering about eight men and boys, seemed to come to a decision. They cut the thongs that bound his wrists and motioned for him to go away. Tell your people , their leader gestured. What about him? Snake asked, pointing to Big Dog. We keep him! the other signed. It was not until then that Snake noticed a still form beside that of the deer. Dog had killed one of the other party before he had been dragged down. Go! Go on! My weapons?he signed in question. No! Tell your people. There was an urgent council, and much discussion. The leaders of the Forest Band were indignant at such treatment. Some wanted to attack immediately. Woodchuck, the band chieftain, was more calm and deliberate in his approach, even though his nephew was involved. "That would spill more blood," he reminded. "As it is now, we have lost one life, that of Jumper. The others have lost one, but they spared Black Snake, here. Is that not a good sign? Let us approach them and ask for our young man back again." It was agreed that such an approach was worth trying. A delegation was chosen, a dozen men including the best hunters of the People, but also several of their wisest elders. They assembled a few small gifts for the leaders of the other group and approached their town, half a day's travel away, on the next day. They were met with an attitude of haughty superiority, but were led through the village, now appearing much more settled, as well as larger. There was a large meeting house near the center of the town, and they were taken there. The meeting house quickly filled with people, whose faces were stony and grim. "This is not good," said Woodchuck. In due time a few of the town's leaders arrived, obviously late as an intentional slight to the visitors. Their faces were hard, too, but they sat and smoked the pipe with the visitors, as was only proper. They accepted the small gifts from the visitors, and finally Woodchuck brought up the subject of their visit. We have come about the incident between our young men , Woodchuck signed. Never mind ... A misunderstanding , answered the other leader with a smirk. It is over . No, Woodchuck protested. One man is dead on each side, but you hold one of ours prisoner . The other chief pretended to be surprised. We released one , he signed, pointing to Snake. We kept only the killer, the crazy one . Woodchuck tried to ignore the insult. Young men are sometimes foolish, no? He can learn better judgment, after we take him home . The other man smiled and spread his palms, helplessly as if perplexed. We no longer have him , he signed. Woodchuck's heart sank. Where is he? he demanded. The chief shrugged. Who knows? We sold him to a party of traders. That might help improve his judgment . He smirked again. A slave? demanded Woodchuck. Of course. We found him difficult to handle.... Crazy, you know. But these traders knew how to cure that. He will be much calmer now. Where did they go?demanded Woodchuck, barely controlling himself. They did not say. East, maybe. They left this morning. They caught up with the traders in night camp that evening. They were friendly, as traders should be. Woodchuck saw a number of slaves, an ankle of each tied by a thong about a pace long to the ankle of the next. These prisoners were of both sexes and various ages, but Big Dog was not among them. We are looking for a young man , he explained, after the usual greeting. Yes, we have several fine ones . The trader gestured toward the prisoners. Look them over . No, no. A particular one. You bought him from the Shaved-heads, they said. Oh, that one. Crazy. Yes, too bad. He died. Died? Yes. It is seldom to have such bleeding just from castration, but sometimes ... Too bad. There was nothing to do. They camped, well out of sight of the other party, and a discussion was held around the fire. Woodchuck, sick at heart, was in no condition to lead. The argument rambled, and various irrational suggestions were made. Kill all the traders and free their slaves ... Go back to the Shaved-heads' town and attack them ... Catch individual hunters and kill them ... Everyone remembered what a good friend Big Dog had been to him, whether or not it had actually been true. Finally Woodchuck held up a hand for silence, and the group quieted. "There is only one thing to do," he said. "We are at war with the Shaved-heads. Let us go home, hold a council, and make our plans." Copyright © 2000 Don Coldsmith. All rights reserved.
