The Last Protest | Page 2

They had laughed and scoffed; they had scoffed at him, Young Moon, who had been to the school and knew, and all high motives and peaceful inclinations had fled from him.
It was July -- hot, sultry July. The Crows came out of their tepees to sit cross-legged in the sun, gazing blankly out at the dancing heat-haze and experiencing the many weird emotions that come to the child of the tepees with the bright sun. The women of the tribe were methodically performing the duties of the household, but the men had forgotten that such things existed. An old man grumblingly ordered a boy to go to work in the corn, and the boy, sitting with wide-open eyes staring out into space, laughed without moving.
The sun is bad for young bucks; it is the sun that brings back the old, half-forgotten desire for the war-path. Young Moon, as he sat gazing down the valley, began to feel and see as he had never done before. There was a red, misty haze over all the landscape. In it moved men and animals and things; but they were not of the time of Young Moon, at least the Young Moon whom the teachers had known.
Young Moon dreamed, and there came into the mist of red a vision of the one-time glory of his people. But he knew that this was the past -- dead and gone. He dreamed again, and saw a picture of glorious, bloody strife. Things were clearer in the mist now, and Young Moon saw the visions change, and in the place of the one of strife was one of the glorious future: the Indian come into his own again, and the country once more free -- his alone.
The sun grew red before Young Moon's eyes. The river running down the valley turned to a thread of blood. He rose slowly and went inside his tepee. All day he sat there, gazing blankly at the skin sides, but seeing far beyond. Gradually his sight grew stronger. He saw a streak of flaming red which ran from the door of his tepee far away toward the east, and which obliterated all evidence of civilization in the valley. Thus did the Great Spirit evidence itself to Young Moon. The Young Moon of the government school, diploma, and civilization had died, and in his place was the Young Moon of the tepees and primitive, savage instincts.
Outside in the sun the other young bucks of the tribe sat and awaited only a leader to turn them into heartless, ravaging warriors.
When the night came, an old squaw sat in the edge of gloom and firelight and crooned softly an old war-song. This was bad; not for years had this song been sung in the tepees. The old men cursed the squaw fervidly and bade her be silent.
"No, no!" growled the young men angrily, "she shall sing."
The old squaw sang again, now an old song of prophecy and golden promise. A great medicine-man, impervious to death, was to come and lead his people to the retaking of their own. The time was now ripe for his advent. It was the old, old undying cry for the Messiah, and as the old squaw ceased there was deep silence around the fire. A child coughed feebly as the smoke veered into its face. Somewhere in the dark a tepee flap flew back, and in an instant the old men were on their feet, with angry imprecations on their lips; for Young Moon, arrayed in the full glory of a chief on the war-path, was standing by the fire. The old squaw ran to him. With both hands upon his shoulders, she gazed searchingly into his eyes. Then, raising a skinny claw into the air, she shrieked loudly and called him the great one, the invulnerable, of whom she had prophesied. There would be much fighting and blood, and freedom, now, she cried. The days of sickening calm were over. The old men sat and smoked, as impassive as graven images; but the young braves slid noiselessly away in the dark, and returned wearing the black feathers and buckskin apron of the Crow dancers. An old chief by the fire deliberately took the pipe from his mouth. "Young Moon looks well in the feathers -- almost as well as a cow in harness," he said pleasantly.
"And Little Wolf is also a great man," retorted Young Moon, hotly. "He works well in the field, almost as well as the women."
Little Wolf emitted a puff of smoke from between set teeth for answer.
"Why does not the great chief answer?" queried Young Moon, sneeringly. "A great man -- a man who sells as much hay as does Little Wolf -- should talk much when the talk is to him."
Still, Little Wolf