"The little brave who visited the grave of a medicine woman, with several other boys," appears in Marie McLaughlin's "Myths And Legends Of The Sioux."
Mischievous Boy Pranks Others
Mischievous Boy Pranks Others
Stunt Spreads To Village, Causes Fear
By Marie L. McLaughlin
GREAT PLAINS - "A Little Brave And The
Medicine Woman" comes from Marie
L. McLaughlin’s “Myths And Legends Of The Sioux.” It is retold here with
minor edits.
A village of Indians[1] moved out of winter camp
and pitched their tents[2] in a circle on high land
overlooking a lake. A little way down the declivity was a grave. Chokecherry[3] bushes had grown up,
hiding the grave from view. But as the ground had sunk somewhat, the grave was
marked by a slight hollow.
One of the men going out to hunt took
a short cut through the chokecherry bushes. As he pushed them aside he saw the
hollow grave, but thought it was a washout made by the rains. As he essayed to
step over it, to his great surprise he stumbled and fell. Made curious by this
mishap, he drew back and tried again, but again he fell. When he came back to
the village[4] he told the old men what
had happened to him. They remembered then that a long time before there had
been buried there a medicine woman.[5] Doubtless it was her
medicine that made the hunter stumble.
Chokecherries. The fruit is ready to pick in late July/early August.
Chokecherries. The fruit is ready to pick in late July/early August.
The story of the hunter’s adventure
spread through the camp and made many curious to see the grave. Among others
were six little boys who were, however, rather timid, for they were in great
awe of the dead medicine woman. But they had a little playmate named Brave,[6] a mischievous little
rogue, whose hair was always unkempt and tossed about and who was never quiet
for a moment.
“Let us ask Brave to with us,” they
said, and they went in a body to see him.
“All right,” said Brave, “I will go
with you. But I have something to do first. You go on around the hill that way, and I will hasten around this way, and meet you a little later
near the grave.”
So, the little boys went on as bidden
until they came to a place near the grave. There they halted.
“Where is Brave?” they asked.
Now Brave, full of mischief, had
thought to play a jest on his little friends. As soon as they were well out of
sight he had sped around the hill to the shore of the lake and sticking his
hands in the mud had rubbed it over his face, plastered it in his hair, and
soiled his hands until he looked like a newly risen corpse with the flesh
rotting from his bones. He then went and lay down in the grave and awaited the
boys.
When the little boys came they were
more timid than ever when they did not find Brave, but they feared to go back
to the village without seeing the grave, for fear the old men would call them
cowards.
So they slowly approached the grave
and one of them timidly called out, “Please, grandmother, we won’t disturb your
grave. We only want to see where you lie. Don’t be angry.”
At once a thin quavering voice, like
an old woman’s, called out, “Háŋ, háŋ, tȟakóža, héčhetuya! [Yes, yes, grandson,
do so!]”
The boys were frightened out of their
senses believing the old woman had come to life.
“Oh, grandmother,” they gasped, “Don’t
hurt us. Please don’t. We’ll go.”
Just then Brave raised his muddy face
and hands up through the chokecherry bushes. With the mud dripping from his
features he looked like a witch just raised from the grave. The boys screamed
outright. One fainted. The rest ran yelling up the hill to the village, where
each broke at once for his mother’s thípi.
As all the thípi in a Dakȟóta encampment face theh center, the
boys were in plain view when they came tearing into camp. Hearing the
screaming, every woman in camp ran to her thiyópa[7] to see that had happened.
Just then, Brave, as badly scared as the rest, came rushing in after them, his
hair on end as covered with mud and crying out, forgetful of his appearance, “It’s
me! It’s me!”
The women yelped and bolted in terror
from the village. Brave dashed into his mother’s thípi, scaring her out of her
wits. Dropping pots and kettles, she tumbled out of the thípi to run screaming
with the rest. Nor would a single villager come near poor Brave until he had
gone down to the lake and washed himself.
[1] Marie McLaughlin’s maternal
grandmother was Mdewákhanthunwaŋ (Dwellers At The Sacred/Spirit Lake). Marie
married Major James McLaughlin. She lived at Spirit Lake Agency (Devil’s Lake
Agency) for ten years before moving with her husband to Standing Rock. In her
book, “Legends Of The Sioux,” McLaughlin frequently uses “Sioux” and “Indian” interchangeably
with Očhéthi Šakówiŋ (Seven Council Fires) and Dakȟótá
or Lakȟótá (Allied; Friends).
[4] Wičhóthi: Village, camp, or
encampment.
[5] The original text includes, “…or
conjurer.”
[6] Ohítika: Brave.
[7] Thípi door.
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