Part 8

XIV--A WINTER MASQUE

Among the really absorbing amusements of Indian boys, none surpass the games played with tops, which with us are in season in the winter only. The mere spinning of a top would soon become tiresome; it is the various and ingenious stunts that keep the interest alive.

Then, too, each boy makes his own top of every available kind of wood, as well as of horn and bone, and studies its peculiar defects or advantages for the work in hand, so thoroughly that it comes to have for him a kind of personality. He whittles it to a nicety in the regular top shape or any variation of it that he chooses, so long as he can coax and whip it into spinning and humming and singing. He has a stick about a foot long and as big as your thumb; sometimes one end is grooved so that he can pick up the top while spinning. To this stick he ties two or three deer-skin thongs of equal length, making a top whip with which he performs some interesting stunts and plays many amusing games.

There is much artistic taste among our people. Some decorate their tops in stripes, much like a barber's pole; others with totem paintings; but perhaps the cleverest boy is he who can carve as well as paint. One will carve a tiny toad sitting atop his spinner; another a turtle; but the boy who is quick enough to copy the bumblebee--hum and all--he is a hero! When he proudly whips his black buffalo-horn spinner, he holds the center of the stage, while every other boy must pause for a minute to regard him with envy.

Sometimes a boy will playfully address his top, telling it to sing the bear song, or imitate the lowing of the buffalo bull, at the same time whipping it so vigorously and in such fashion that it seems really to give a semblance of the required imitation! But it is no ordinary bashful boy who does these things; it is the roguish young humorist and actor of the tribe.

When the chiefs selected for our field-day on the ice announce the date, every boy is ready. The chief of each side brings his forces together for a final test of skill, and there is no lack of spectators. In the first place, each displays his peculiar manufactures, priding himself much upon originality of design and careful workmanship. Then there are trials of speed, and trials of duration, and finally the more difficult stunts, such as transferring the top in the spoon end of the whip without interrupting its dance, or whipping it under a light covering of snow, or along an obstacle course. Perhaps no one save an Indian could make a bear cub whip a spinning-top, holding the whip handle in his mouth, as I have seen it done on these field-days. Some of the boys impersonate old men, and some genuine grandfathers are admitted to add to the fun. There is a particular song of the top, and its spinning is said by us to be symbolic of the dance of life.

A white boy feels himself unfortunate when Santa Claus fails to leave at his home a pair of club skates or a swift "flexible flyer." Still more unfortunate is he who has no hill or pond or river near for coasting and skating. In my day we were independent of all save natural features; no policeman to interfere with our fun, no fences or trespass signs--and no shops or indulgent fathers to purchase our equipment! The trees might be snapping, even bursting open with the severe cold, the ice on the lakes thundering like the cannonade of a distant battle, but, nothing daunted, we boys would sally forth in our warm buffalo calf-skin robes, well belted around the middle, and moccasins stuffed with hair, defying the weather. Our coasters were made of the longest and largest ribs of the buffalo bull, tightly bound together with strong rawhide thongs, and held in position with three flat sticks an inch or two wide and a little longer than the width of the sled. The shape was something like the body of a cutter; it was lined neatly with buffalo hide, and lariats were tied to the curved end as you tie your ropes. We generally coasted standing erect, and the narrower ones were used as skees, with a pole to balance, upon which we sped like lightning down the steep hills amid a din of yells, whoops, and laughter. Other skees were made of basswood or elm bark, stiffened with rawhide or doubled, always with the slippery inner side against the snow. In the very old days there were a kind of skates of peculiar workmanship, made of bones and tusks of animals.

The winter pageant or winter masque on the ice was the crowning event, and here the older people came to realize how closely they had been watched and studied by their children. Your Indian boy is a born mimic and impersonator, and this was his day. The first intimation of the festivity was given by their crier or herald, who entered the camp picturesquely attired, riding on a tame buffalo calf or a big Esquimo dog, announcing the coming of the "old folks" or the "first people."

When the whole village had poured forth from their wigwams in eager expectation, the head of the procession emerged from the forest upon the field of ice. It was an imposing sight. The first clan, perhaps, would be led by a buffalo bull walking upright and holding his pipe in his hands like a man. Immediately behind him were twelve wise men walking abreast, each wearing a buffalo headdress and carrying a long staff with a buffalo-tail tassel. They were followed by the people of the clan, all clad in hairy skins, some accompanied by tame coyotes, or dragging old-time travois. Here and there, boys in groups were playing their favorite games or fluting and yodeling, while the groups of pretty girls walked more demurely.

The wolf, elk, and bear clans were similarly represented, and the odd characters of ancient legend were all present: Unktómee the tricky one with his many aliases; Heyóka the contrary one, who always says the reverse of what he means, and paints a face or mask on the back of his head so that he seems to be walking backward. Even his dog wears the head of a calf at his rear end, and a tail fixed on the end of his nose. One figure is dressed all in white and moves with a whirling motion, all the time imitating the humming of a top. Even the wild pets join in the fun, and I have heard a tame crow, which had been taught a few simple words, crying out quite naturally as he hopped along: "Wachée po! wachée po!" (Dance, friends, dance!)

XV--AN INDIAN GIRL'S SPORTS

Contrary to the popular opinion, our Indian girls and women are not mere drudges, but true feminine athletes, almost as alert as the men, and frequently even more muscular.

The favorite outdoor sport of the plains-women from remote times is called by them "tap-káp-see-cha," the original form of "field hockey." Any level prairie ground is suited to the game, which is especially exciting when it is engaged in by two neighboring camps. The goals are usually two hundred yards apart, and the width of the ground about twenty feet. Twenty-five to fifty or more contestants may play on each side, but not all at once. They are placed in groups or relays, each group not to go beyond its allotted field. When a ball crosses the line, it belongs to the next group. Thus, if there are fifty players on a side, each group of ten runs only forty yards.

The ball, which is of buckskin, about as large as a baseball, but softer, is tossed up with a war-whoop, midway between the goals. Each side then strives to send it on with their hooked sticks toward the opposing goal. It may either be kept rolling along the ground, or driven through the air; and the battle continues until one side or the other succeeds in sending it over the enemy's goal. The distinctive features of the Indian game are the apportionment of the field to designated groups of players, and the large number taking part, thus reducing the confusion and chances of accident while ensuring an exceedingly picturesque and lively spectacle.

"Pas-ló-han" is played in smaller groups with a wand about eight feet long, heavy at the forward end, which is shaped somewhat like the head of a snake, and tapering gently to about the size of a man's finger. Sometimes the head is made of buffalo, elk, or deer's horn. The girls hold it between the thumb, middle, and ring fingers, while the index finger presses against the end. The arm is closely bent at the elbow and held at right angles to the body, bringing the half-opened hand directly over the shoulder, and the wand is then hurled with all the strength of the player's arm, two or three forward steps being taken at the same time. The head hits the ground slantwise, and the body slides and wriggles after it much like a fleeing snake. The immediate object of the girls, who throw in turn, is to see who can make it go furthest, but grace and swiftness of flight are also points to be considered.

This simple sport brings into use practically all the muscles that are required to throw a baseball, and helps much to make the girls supple and agile. It is easier to play in winter and late fall, as the wands travel much faster over crusty snow or hard-trampled ground.

The Minnesota Sioux used to play a very pretty aquatic game when their homes were in that beautiful lake country. It was really the original Indian game of lacrosse played in birch-bark canoes, and might be christened "water lacrosse" or "canoe ball."

The ball was twice as large as the one the men used on land; I should say a little larger than a baseball, but much lighter in weight. The sticks used by the Sioux women were about like the ordinary lacrosse stick, only a foot longer and with twice as large a pocket. This pocket is made of vegetable fiber so that the wet does not stretch it, and when the ball is in it, barely one-third shows above the rim.

Ten to twenty girls may play on a side, two to each canoe. We will designate them "ball-player" and "canoeist." The latter must devote herself entirely to her canoe and that of her opponent. She may not touch the ball nor interfere with the opposing ball-player, but she may use all her skill to obstruct the opposing canoe, and if her partner secures the ball, it is her duty to guard against being thus obstructed. In a skirmish she must be skilful and alert to balance her craft. No canoeist may ram her opponent head on, and if she does so, the game is given to the other side.

The ball-player must throw the ball to one of her own side if possible. Here again special skill is required, for it is nearly as difficult as making a successful "forward pass." However, she has the privilege of passing it in any direction to one of her own players. It is not allowable to hit the ball while in the water. Each player may carry it on toward her opponent's goal so long as her canoe is not obstructed, but as soon as her bows are crossed, she must pass it on. Thus the struggle continues until the ball either goes out of bounds, or passes over one of the goals. The field is about a hundred yards long by fifty wide. If the ball goes out of bounds, the referee must toss it up as at the beginning, in the middle of the field between two opposing canoes, the canoeists placing the canoes parallel to each other, while the players struggle for the possession of the ball. Meanwhile, the other players occupy strategic points and hold themselves ready to receive it.

In this feminine game, it is forbidden to throw the ball with a full arm swing; it must be lobbed or tossed with the forearm only, to avoid risk of injury to the players. It develops much nicety of physical equilibrium, and might be successfully revived in a summer camp by girls who are good swimmers. They would do well to wear bathing-suits and be fully prepared for the chances of an upset. In our day, the winners were entertained by the conquered side at a simple feast.

XVI--INDIAN NAMES AND THEIR SIGNIFICANCE

As you all know, we Indians had no books; our history and traditions were orally preserved. The pictograph cut into a rock or tree, or painted upon a buffalo-skin tent, was our only record of current or past events. Moreover, we had no family names, so that a boy's name did not indicate his parentage. Under such circumstances, one should have a striking cognomen in order to be readily identified.

The Sioux had three classes of names; first, birth names; second, honor or public names; third, nicknames. The first indicated the order in which children were born into the family; as "Chaskáy," first-born son, "Wenónah," first-born daughter, and so on to the fifth child, who was presumed to be the last. There were a few who carried this childhood name through life.

The nickname usually records some humorous act or odd characteristic of the boy or man. It is seldom a flattering one. There is an imaginary Indian personage called "Wink'tah," who is supposed to be ever on the watch for an excuse to coin a ridiculous or insinuating name, and such a one will travel like a prairie fire before its owner is aware of it.

It has been written by white men that an Indian child is called after the first noticeable thing its mother sees after its birth. This is not so as a rule, though it is possible such cases may have occurred. Again, it has been declared that some event occurring near the child's birth establishes its name. This occasionally happens, but only when the event is of unusual importance.

The child's "honor name" is properly conferred by the clan medicine-man at a public ceremony, some time after the child is able to walk. Such an Indian christening is announced by the herald, a feast made, and gifts presented to the poor of the tribe, in honor of the occasion. These needy old people in their turn go away singing the praises of the child by his new name.

Such a name usually indicates the distinguishing character or famous deeds of the boy's ancestors, and its bearer is expected to live up to, defend, and pass it on, unstained. Through this ancient custom, he is early recognized by his tribe, impressed with a sense of his personal responsibility, and inspired with the ambition to be worthy of his ancestry. By giving away their property to those in want, his parents intend to teach him love and good-will toward his fellow-men. But if, when he grows up, the boy fails to sustain his honor name, he is no longer called by it.