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The Chief and the Council
If, since the last council of this nature, any chief had given way
to violence, he did not speak lest he should bring disaster on the people.
So long as he remained silent his un-chieftain like conduct would bring
trouble only upon himself, whereas any official act might transfer it to the
people. After all who desired had spoken, with long intervals of silence,
the chosen leader was called upon ; his words were generally the consensus
of all the others. If there was any difference of opinion, the men must
remain in council until unanimity was reached. The official herald then went
out and proclaimed the day of departure, while the chiefs remained in their
bowed attitudes, and partook of the sacred food served in seven wooden
bowls, which passed successively four times around the circle of the
company, each man taking a mouthful from a black horn spoon, no one being
allowed to touch the food with anything else, not even with his fingers. The
sun must go down before this ceremony could be closed and the chiefs could
lift their heads (which had remained bowed during the entire council) and go
out to their homes. The day for starting out, once fixed, could not be
changed, as it would be a lie, and Wakanda would be angry.
Throughout the village the bustle of preparation would
set every one stirring, from the old grandfather looking over his odds and
ends of possessions, and the busy housewife putting the surplus food and
family treasures into rawhide packs and storing them in caches, down to the
children and dogs running hither and thither in the way of everybody. The
entire tribe was expected to go out, with the exception of the very old and
the sick, who remained at home protected by a few warriors left behind for
that purpose.
On the appointed day the boys are off by dawn, scouring
the hills, and driving in the ponies, and the sun rises on the busy scene of
breaking camp. The first to move out is the leader ; he advances slowly,
carrying no weapons, but only the wa-sha-bae, or staff of his office, its
feathers fluttering in the morning breeze.5
He walks apart in reverent supplication for power to guide the people
aright, and lead them by a peaceful way to the prosperity of success.
Then the keepers of the two sacred tents start out with
their charge, and decorum marks the movements of those bearing the pole and
the white buffalo-hide in its pack. Care is taken by the families which
follow next in line not to press too closely; for, should anything brush
against the consecrated articles, disaster would ensue, unless at the first
halt the offending thing should be brought with a gift to the sacred tent
containing the thing profaned, and there be sprinkled by the keeper with
warm water thrown from a spray of artemisia.
Thus led by those dedicated to religious service, the
tribe leaves its village, the people by families dropping into line- men,
well mounted, bearing their weapons ready for use; women, in gala dress,
riding their decorated ponies, older ones leading the pack-horses; little
children in twos and threes upon the backs of steady old nags, or snugly
stowed away in the swinging pouch between the tent-poles; and the dogs
trotting complacently everywhere. Here and there along the line of the
cavalcade is a lad being initiated into individual responsibility. He has
been upon the hunt before, as one of the family, but this is the first step
toward going independently, uncared for as a child. The father has lassoed a
wild horse, saddled and bridled him, and now bids his son mount the animal.
The boy hangs back; the colt is a fiery creature, and already restive under
restraint. The father tells his son that the hone shall be his own when he
has conquered it, but the lad does not move. The lookers-on are smiling, and
the cavalcade does not wait. "Get up," says the father. The boy slowly
advances, and the colt quickly recedes; but the boy, grasping his mane,
swings himself into the saddle. The father lets go, and so does the
colt-rears, jumps, wriggles, humps his back like an infuriated cat, stands
on his fore legs and kicks at his own tail, paws the air and stamps the
earth; but the boy clings to him until with a sudden jerk the saddle girth
is broken, and he is landed over the head of the excited creature, which
runs for dear life and liberty. Brought back, protesting by twists and
shakes of his head, he is again mounted, and again frees himself. After two
or three repetitions of this sort of thing, the boy becomes angry, and the
mother grows anxious. She runs to her son as he is scrambling up from the
ground, feels him all over, and moves his legs and arms to see if he is
hurt. He is impatient at the delay; he is going to master that pony now or
die for it. This time he stays on. In vain the animal lashes himself into
foam and fury; the boy sticks to him like the shirt of Nessus, and the
father at last leads the indivisible pair between the tent-poles which trail
behind a sophisticated family horse, and there, fenced in, they journey all
day, trying to get used to each other.
5 The wa-sha-bae is a staff, or badge of
office, about eight feet in length, shaped like a shepherd's crook. It is
cased in buffalo-hide dressed without the hair, and sewed together with
threads of sinew. At the end of the crook hangs a bunch of white feathers
from the bald-headed eagle, and along the staff are fastened golden-eagle
and crow feathers. The materials for the wa-sha-bae are furnished by the
leader, but the Hunga gens alone has the right to manufacture it.
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Hunting Customs of the
Omaha
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