“This was long ago,” began Stemteemä, “many many snows. It happened in the time of my grandfather, when he was a young chief of the powerful Schu-ayl-p^k18 and the Okanogans. This story I am telling you is true. It was given me by my father who favored me among his many children. I was his youngest child from his youngest wife, who was cherished among his twelve wives. He told me the tales that were sacred to his tribe; honored me with them, trusted me. Treasured by my forefathers, I value them. I know that they would want them kept only to their own people if they were here. But they are gone and for me the sunset of the last evening is approaching and I must not carry with me this history.

“In that time the pale face and his vices had not reached us. The country was wild and the Great Spirit was kind to the tribes. Berries grew on the fruit-bushes in abundance, while game and fish were plentiful. Buffaloes were to be killed on these plains, all ample for food, robes and lodge-sheltering. There were so many that the prairies showed black like the shadows from passing clouds.

“My ancestors were warriors and medicine men; the one brave and fearless, the other wise in the wisdom of spirits. My grandfather and father could not have become chiefs had they not been courageous from small to great things. A leader must be a good hunter. He must not know the word ‘fear.’ He must endure the hardships of war, waged every spring and fall against the fierce Blackfeet and Sioux. If favored by the Great Spirit, he would win the battle and return from war more beloved by his tribe. Ponies were taken from the enemy, and their best looking women brought home to become wives. Any others were killed, or some times retained as slaves. A warrior’s ability and bravery was estimated by the number of captured ponies or scalps he could display in the village. These evidenced that he had met the foe, that he was not boasting the lie. This was why scalping was practiced by all the tribes.

“Always, the falling of the first snow was the sign that the Great Spirit was calling. The tribesmen then ceased hunting the buffalo, deer, elk, moose and antelope. Gathering in the village, everything was laid aside for the ‘Spirit’s Days,’ which were fourteen sundowns. They danced in worship to the Spirit, to continue His favors to the tribe; that the trees, the grass and herbs be perpetual; that the deer and all game be plentiful the coming season and that the red salmon again swarm up the Swa-net^k-qah. I am old and I am wondering why the salmon no longer come as when I was a child. The stream then throbbed with the big fish.

“We have been told that it is wrong to pray to the Great Spirit as we were taught. But since we adopted prayers to the white man’s God-spirit, we have died from pestilences which he brought. Even the buffalo are no more; gone to the shadowy Hunting Grounds of the hereafter, with the warriors of old. I shall soon follow, where the pale face can not dispossess us, for he will not be there. He will no longer lure our children from us with his smooth tongue and books, which here serves to make them bad by imitating the destroyers of our race.

“With this whitening of the first snow⁠—this calling of the Spirit⁠—the medicine man had built a great lodge of poles and bark, or of dressed skins. A long fire-hearth was in the center, that the dancing might be lighted at night, as well as give warmth for the people. These lodges I have myself seen before the Black Robes stopped us from such worship of the Indian Spirit.

“They danced for fourteen sundowns, thankful for the past successful season, for health and victory in war. Each hunter and warrior supplicated that he again be permitted to see the new life of spring. All that time, day and night they danced, as long as strength lasted. Some of the warriors did not sleep. This was to show their endurance, their ability to stand the rigors of the warpath and the chase. It was at one of these dances that this story I am telling you, happened.

“Berries, game and fish had been abundant and the people had plenty of dried foods for the winter moons. They danced the fourteen sundowns, when suddenly and without any illness, one medicine man died. He was perfectly well when he dropped dead. Immediately the wind came up and it stormed fiercely, shutting the dancers in.

“They used to bury the dead in tops of trees, or, if he was a chief, medicine man or a great warrior, his body was left in his own teepee and his best horse killed at its doorway. This was, that he might ride the swifter to the Spirit Land. Their finest robes and skins were also left with the dead, as a gift to the Great Spirit, that He might take pity on the family and call no more of them over the death trail. The village then moved to a new location, leaving the dead alone.

“The medicine man was really dead and cold for two sundowns. The storm was bad and they could not take the body to its own teepee for burial. On the third sunrise, to the astonishment of the people, the dead man came back from the death-sleep. Life returned and he stood up from the robes in which he was wrapped. The women, frightened, ran away, but the warriors dared not run. It would be cowardly to fly even though they could not understand. The newly alive medicine man called:

“ ‘Come all you braves and warriors! I have something to tell you, for your own benefit. I came back to warn you, to show you the right way to go. It is important and I will speak before I go again and forever.

“ ‘The messenger of the Great Spirit took me away. He took me high, up very high. I could see you, oh! my people, around my poor body. You were wailing over that which is but a part of the earth; only useful here but nowhere else. While I was in the clouds, I could see that which is moving towards you from the sunrise, slowly⁠—driving⁠—surging in big herds like the buffaloes we hunt on the plains, only more vast. Terrible it comes, and gathering force it sweeps the land like the cloud-rack of death. Listen! Oh! my people. I saw the future as you see the mountains when the sun is undimmed by vapor from the waters. I asked my guide, whom I could not see yet felt his presence, to let me return and warn you; but he refused.

“ ‘We ascended higher, still higher until we reached the big bright doorway of the sun, which shines that the flowers, the grass and trees may grow to gladden your hearts. Again I begged my guide to permit me to come warn you of what is to be. Then someone I could not see, heard only his loud voice like the rushing of the wind through the forest⁠—mingled with the melody of the waterfalls⁠—calling to me:

“ ‘Go! man! go back! I am not ready to take you into the Happy Hunting Grounds till you have performed a duty assigned you. Go! warn your people of what is coming over the morning trail!’

“ ‘Then taking my hand, my guide pointed to the future⁠—what is in store for you, my people⁠—what the future holds for you. Listen!

“ ‘I saw a pale-faced nation moving from the sunrise; as many as the trees of the forest. My guide said to me: “They are coming to take your hunting grounds from you.” Then knowing my thoughts, he exclaimed in pity:

“ ‘ “No! You cannot fight them as you do the common enemies of your tribe. They are many! Many more than your own race; many as the stars you see. When you kill the front of them, others come from the back of them; many more, double the number. This is to be! Do not attempt war with them. You would be crushed like the pine-cone by the mountain avalanche.

“ ‘ “The first of the strangers will come to work for your good,” said my guide. “Only a few of them will strive to help the tribes; not for this life’s benefit, but for the Hereafter; where the warriors gather when they leave this earth. You will know them; with their white skins and with hair on their faces. They will show you a new trail to the Great Spirit. You must believe them! for they, too, point to the hunting grounds of the future life which cannot be taken from you. These good men will help you from becoming lost on the night trail.”

“ ‘Again my guide pointed and I saw the pale faces fighting among themselves for the possession of our lands. Their feet were drowned in human blood of war which thundered everywhere.

“ ‘ “See!” said my guide. “When this takes place, your people will long be gone. The land will be no more as it was. Go! now, man! go back to your people with the message given you. Tell them what you have seen, and listen to the first pale face who comes to them. He will not deceive them, but will show them a better trail to the Spirit Land.”

“ ‘Then it seemed that I was falling! falling! falling! Plunging through wet clouds and it was far. But when I awoke, I was back here in my old, deserted body. I saw this body from the high, and I did not care to live in it again. I had not regretted leaving it for a better life.

“ ‘My friends and relations! I have now done that which the Great Spirit demanded of me. I am ready to leave you again, never to return. I want to go back where all is beauty and goodness, where the hardships of the warpath are unknown.’

“With this, the medicine man fell back among his robes and died forever.19 My grandfather heard his words. He told the strange story to my father, who in turn gave it to me. I know that it must be true, for my father never spoke the lie. He did not talk two ways. I have heard the old Indians in my childhood time, wonder at the story. This is why the Black Robes were believed when they at last did come.

“The tribe watched and waited for the coming of the pale faces, but it was many snows before they came. It was so long that the prophecy of the dead-man was almost forgotten. The younger generation began to think it untrue; only some chip-chap-tiqul^k20 of the older Indians.

“My father was then a young man, a big chief, who ruled after the death of his father. He won fame for bravery among the tribes.21 One day a warrior came to him in haste and deep trouble. He had found a pale faced man almost dead with cold and starvation and had brought him to his teepee in the night to be fed and warmed. What should be done with the strange being?

“The Chief ordered him brought to his own lodge, where it was discovered that he had hair growing on his face. The Chief then remembered the dead man’s words and that the stranger must be treated well.

“After the white-skinned man had revived, he began teaching the way of the new trail to the Spirit Land. He wore a long black robe, from which he was called ‘Black Robe.’ He remained all winter with the Okanogans and learned much of our language. He told them that there were many more pale faces from where he came, that it was far away in the snow country towards the sunrise. That he and another Black Robe came together, but the bad Indians of the north had killed his companion. He had escaped. Maybe the Great Spirit took pity on him.

“When he began telling the Okanogans about the good White Spirit, they must not have understood, for they prayed to the Black Robe himself. They believed that he was more than man. Had not the dead man told them that the first to come would be able to show them a better way to reach the Hereafter? He must be in communication with the Great Spirit and thus understood their petitions. He forbid them praying to the sun, moon and stars, which the Indians thought to be the lodges of spirits.

“The Black Robe stayed till the snow disappeared before the Warm-winds, when he went towards the sunset. He said he was going to teach the tribes living there how to reach the White Spirit. That was the last ever heard of him. Maybe the bad Indians killed him, but we never knew.

“The Okanogans prayed the ‘new way’ for many snows, when they grew tired and almost forgot the words of the Black Robe. Then they saw the pale face again, two of them. They had no black robes, but the people tried to pray to them, as they remembered the words of the Black Robe. The pale faces only laughed at them. But this is another story which I may tell you some time.

“I have told you of the first pale face to come to our village and tribal grounds. The land is now all turned to the production of the white man’s food, which we must also use. But we old people prefer our natural food; that which the earth gave us without scarring its bosom. The deer and other game; the fish, the berries and the roots were always here; placed here for us.

“It was good to live in a lodge with no roof to smother you; where you could breathe fresh all the time. It was this former life that we loved; when the men were brave and the women were true. This is all that I will talk today.”