The War Party (Fourth Evening)

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Title:     The War Party (Fourth Evening)
Author: Charles Alexander Eastman [More Titles by Eastman]

FOURTH EVENING

There is no greater rudeness than to interrupt a story-teller, even by the slightest movement. All Sioux children are drilled in this rule of behavior, as in many others, from their earliest babyhood, and old Smoky Day has seldom to complain of any lack of attention. Even Teona and Waola, active boys of eleven and twelve, and already daring hunters, would be ashamed to draw upon themselves by word or motion the reproving looks of their mates. A disturbance so serious as to deserve the notice of the old teacher himself would disgrace them all!

"Although we shall hear again of the animal people," he begins pleasantly but with due gravity, "and even of some who are not animals at all, we must remember that each of these warriors of whom I shall tell you really represents a man, and the special weakness of each should remind us to inquire of our own weakness. In this life, it is often the slow one who wins in the end; and this we shall now see!"

 

THE WAR-PARTY

One day the Turtle made ready to go upon the war-path. His comrades who wished to go with him were Live Coals, Ashes, the Bulrush, the Grasshopper, the Dragonfly and the Pickerel. All seven warriors went on in good spirits to the first camp, where a strong wind arose in the early morning and blew the Ashes away.

"Iho!" exclaimed the others, "this one was no warrior!"

The six kept on their way, and the second day they came to a river. There Live Coals perished at the crossing. "S-s-s," he said, and was gone!

"Ah!" declared the five, "it is easy to see that he could not fight!"

On the further side of the river they looked back, and saw that the Bulrush had stayed behind. He stood still and waved his hand to the others, who grumbled among themselves, saying:

"He was no true brave, that one!"

The four who were left went on till they came to a swampy place, and there the Grasshopper stuck fast. In his struggles to get out of the bog he pulled both legs off, and so there were only three to go upon the war-path!

The Dragonfly mourned for his friend. He cried bitterly, and finally blew his nose so hard that his slender neck broke in two.

"Ah!" declared the other two, "we are better off without those feeble ones!"

The Pickerel and the Turtle, being left alone, advanced bravely into the country of the enemy. At the head of the lake they were met and quickly surrounded. The Pickerel escaped by swimming, but the Turtle, that slow one, was caught!

They took him to the village, and there the head men held a council to decide what should be done with him.

"We will build a fire and roast him alive in the midst of it," one proposed.

"Hi-i-i!" the Turtle shrilled his war-cry. "That is the brave death I would choose! I shall trample the fire, and scatter live coals among the people!"

"No," declared another, "we will boil water and throw him into the pot!"

"Hi-i-i!" again cried the Turtle. "I shall dance in the boiling pot, and clouds of steam will arise to blind the eyes of the people!"

The counsellors looked doubtfully at one another, and at last one said:

"Why not carry him out to the middle of the lake and drown him?"

Then the Turtle drew in his head and became silent.

"Alas!" he groaned, "that is the only death I fear!"

So the people took him in a canoe, and rowed out to the middle of the lake. There they dropped him in, and he sank like a stone!

But the next minute he came up to the top of the water and again uttered his war-cry.

"Hi-i-i!" he cried. "Now I am at home!" And he dived and swam wherever he would.

This story teaches us that patience and quick wit are better than speed.

[The end]
Charles Alexander Eastman's short story: The War Party (Fourth Evening)

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