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There once lived
an old couple who had an only daughter. She was a beautiful
girl, and was very much courted by the young men of the tribe, but she said
that she preferred single life, and to all their heart-touching tales of
deep affection for her she always had one answer. That was "No."
One day
this maiden fell ill and day after day grew worse. All the best medicine men
were called in, but their medicines were of no avail, and in two weeks from
the day that she was taken ill she lay a corpse. Of course there was great
mourning in the camp. They took her body several miles from camp and rolled
it in fine robes and blankets, then they laid her on a scaffold which
they
had erected. (This was the custom of burial among the Indians). They placed
four forked posts into the ground and then lashed strong poles
lengthwise
and across the ends and made a bed of willows and stout ash brush.
This
scaffold was from five to seven feet from the ground.
After the funeral
the
parents gave away all of their horses, fine robes and blankets and all of
the belongings of the dead girl. Then they cut their hair off close to their
heads, and attired themselves in the poorest apparel they could secure. When
a year had passed the friends and relatives of the old couple tried in
vain
to have them set aside their mourning. "You have mourned long
enough," they
would say. "Put aside your mourning and try and enjoy a few more
pleasures
of this life while you live. You are both growing old and can't live very
many more years, so make the best of your time." The old couple would
listen
to their advice and then shake their heads and answer: "We have nothing
to
live for. Nothing we could join in would be any amusement to us since we
have lost the light of our lives." So the old couple continued their
mourning for their lost idol.
Two years had passed since
the death of the
beautiful girl, when one evening a hunter and his wife passed by the
scaffold, which held the dead girl. They were on their return trip and were
heavily loaded down with game, and therefore could not travel very fast.
About half a mile from the scaffold a clear spring burst forth from
the side
of a bank, and from this trickled a small stream of water, moistening
the
roots of the vegetation bordering its banks, and causing a growth of sweet
green grass. At this spring the hunter camped and tethering his horses,
at
once set about helping his wife to erect the small teepee, which they
carried
for convenience in traveling. When it became quite dark, the hunter's dogs
set up a great barking and growling. "Look out and see what the dogs
are
barking at," said the hunter to his wife.
She looked out
through the door
and then drew back saying: "There is the figure of a woman advancing
from
the direction of the girl's scaffold." "I expect it is the dead
girl. Let
her come, and don't act as if you were afraid," said the hunter. Soon
they
heard footsteps advancing and the steps ceased at the door. Looking down at
the lower part of the door the hunter noticed a pair of small moccasins, and
knowing that it was the visitor, said: "Whoever you are, come in and
have
something to eat." At this invitation the figure came slowly in and sat
down
by the door with head covered and with a fine robe drawn tightly over the
face.
The woman dished
up a fine supper and placing it before the visitor,
said: "Eat, my friend, you must be hungry." The figure never moved,
nor
would it uncover to eat. "Let us turn our back towards the door and our
visitor may eat the food," said the hunter. So his wife turned her back
towards the visitor and made herself very busy cleaning the small pieces of
meat that were hanging to the back sinews of the deer which had been
killed.
(This the Indians use as thread.) The hunter, filling his pipe, turned
away
and smoked in silence. Finally the dish was pushed back to the woman, who
took it and after washing it, put it away. The figure still sat at the door,
not a sound coming from it, neither was it breathing.
The hunter at last
said: "Are you the girl that was placed upon that scaffold two years
ago?"
It bowed its head two or three times in assent. "Are you going to sleep
here
tonight; if you are, my wife will make down a bed for you." The figure
shook
its head. "Are you going to come again tomorrow night to us?" It
nodded
assent. For three nights in succession the figure visited the hunter's
camp.
The third night the hunter noticed that the figure was breathing. He saw one
of the hands protruding from the robe. The skin was perfectly black
and was
stuck fast to the bones of the hand. On seeing this the hunter arose and
going over to his medicine sack which hung on a pole, took down the
sack
and, opening it, took out some roots and mixing them with skunk oil
and
vermilion, said to the figure: "If you will let us rub your face
and hands
with this medicine it will put new life into the skin and you will assume
your complexion again and it will put flesh on you."
The figure
assented and
the hunter rubbed the medicine on her hands and face. Then she arose and
walked back to the scaffold. The next day the hunter moved camp towards the
home village. That night he camped within a few miles of the village. When
night came, the dogs, as usual, set up a great barking, and looking out, the
wife saw the girl approaching. When the girl had entered and sat down, the
hunter noticed that the girl did not keep her robe so closely together over
her face. When the wife gave her something to eat, the girl reached out and
took the dish, thus exposing her hands, which they at once noticed were
again natural. After she had finished her meal, the hunter said: "Did my
medicine help you?" She nodded assent.
"Do you want
my medicine rubbed all
over your body?" Again she nodded. "I will mix enough to rub your
entire
body, and I will go outside and let my wife rub it on for you."
He mixed a
good supply and going out left his wife to rub the girl. When his wife had
completed the task she called to her husband to come in, and when he came in
he sat down and said to the girl: "Tomorrow we will reach the village.
Do
you want to go with us?" She shook her head. "Will you come again
to our
camp tomorrow night after we have camped in the village?" She nodded her
head in assent. "Then do you want to see your parents?" She nodded
again,
and arose and disappeared into the darkness.
Early the next
morning the
hunter broke camp and traveled far into the afternoon, when he arrived at
the village. He instructed his wife to go at once and inform the old couple
of what had happened. The wife did so and at sunset the old couple came to
the hunter's teepee. They were invited to enter and a fine supper was served
them. Soon after they had finished their supper the dogs of the camp set up
a great barking. "Now she is coming, so be brave and you will soon see
your
lost daughter," said the hunter.
Hardly had he
finished speaking when she
entered the tent as natural as ever she was in life. Her parents clung to
her and smothered her with kisses. They wanted her to return home with them,
but she would stay with the hunter who had brought her back to life, and she
married him, becoming his second wife. A short time after taking the
girl
for his wife, the hunter joined a war party and never returned, as he was
killed on the battlefield. A year after her husband's death she
married
again. This husband was also killed by a band of enemies whom the
warriors
were pursuing for stealing some of their horses. The third husband
also met
a similar fate to the first. He was killed on the field of battle. She was
still a handsome woman at the time of the third husband's death, but never
again married, as the men feared her, saying she was holy, and that
any one
who married her would be sure to be killed by the enemy. So she took to
doctoring the sick and gained the reputation of being the most skilled
doctor in the nation. She lived to a ripe old age and when she felt death
approaching she had them take her to where she had rested once before, and
crawling to the top of the newly erected scaffold, wrapped her blankets and
robes about her, covered her face carefully, and fell into that sleep from
which there is no more awakening.
From the Files of Blues Panther
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