Adventure Magazine Cover — page 99: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Pay Gravel ‘“Ton’t do anything. Don’t look. Don’t say anything. Don’t touch a gun. We’ve run into a trap,” whispered Scissors. “Indians?” muttered Dinsdale, standing motionless. “Tn the scrub just beyond the mouth of the path. They’ll riddle us if we try to mount. Do as I do and show no fear when they break cover.”’ He kneeled and began picking up small rocks, searching for those round and un- weathered. Dinsdale dropped down beside . him and blindly imitated his example. And as he picked up the stones Scissors sang in English the song he had sung in the Teton: “From everywhere they come flying, From the north the wind is blowing to earth, * Rattling, flying, they come, they come, From everywhere they come.” He ceased singing and made a little mound of the stones, using those Dinsdale had collected as well as his own. On top of the pile he placed his picture of Mato tipi with a single stone to a it from blowing away. Then rising to his feet and throwing back his head so as to gaze at the top of the butte he shouted in the Teton— “‘Men from the earth we are. I have sung about something, for which have pity on us!” To Dinsdale he whispered: “More rocks, and do as I do. repeated a Teton prayer to Tunkan.”’ As he spoke he finished gathering rocks, this time taking no care as to their shape, and walked to a tree and began placing them - between the branches. Dinsdale did like- wise. Now came the last test. Slowly advanc- I have ing toward the mouth of the path, by the | side of which were crouched the Indians, and holding a rock in each hand, Scissors began shouting— “They really say a white man turns red and comes to your mountain, O Tunkasila (grandfather), for help to escape from white men.’ They passed through a fringe of sage, and Scissors stretched out his hands to brush the bushes back from the mouth of the path, and Dinsdale caught his first glimpse of the hidden warriors, several copper- colored faces glaring, several copper hands clutching rifles and revolvers. Then they were swarming out of their ambuscade and were aiming their weapons at the two white 93 men. Nimble hands plucked the revolvers from Dinsdale’s belt and searched Scissors in vain for arms. A warrior ran to the two horses and secured Dinsdale’s rifle. Then the two were hurled to the ground. “Show no fight,” muttered Scissors. his savage captors he boldly cried: ‘“‘Ha-a-a, Warriors! They say I come back to you with my two knives talking. They really say I bring a man who runs from the whites to save his life. No Strong Hearts, who follow Tatankaiyotake (Sit- ting Bull) are here, for I see no war-bonnets made from the tail-feathers. of eagles, with horns worn on the'front. I see no old men who belong to the White Horse Riders. I do not see Wasechuntashunka (American Horse) my brother. Two Knives.Talking sees only strange warriors. He sees one with a cross on his tobacco bag and knows he is called ‘Wawokiyapi’ (Helper of the Helpless) because he carried a wounded friend out of a fight. He sees a feather standing at the back of the head and knows To the man has killed an enemy without any hurt to himself. He sees a man who has struck an enemy and wears his feather across the back of his head. He sees a man who has given his flesh to Wakantanka in the sun dance and carried six buffalo skulls. He sees another whose vow to Wakantanka brought him many cuts on his arms and chest. “For such men Wakantanka has but one path. They must follow it even when it surely leads to death. Yet these men are not my friends. For they throw me down on the ground, and they throw my friend down beside me. They make ready to kill us. What have we done that these strange warriors should treat us so, when the mighty Tashunca-uitco (Crazy Horse) would call us ‘brothers,’ and stretch out the left hand because his heart is on that side. Tashunca-ultco does not see his friend, Two Knives Talking, and the other white man, who runs from the whites. His ears are closed, or he would hear my voice when I sing the song made for Mato tipi—‘Wa- kanyan maké to maté tipr ca’—” he began | singing. “In a sacred manner I am sitting at bear lodge.” This voluble harangue, and the fact that there was none of the Ogalala who had not seen or heard of Scissors, staved off imme- diate mutilation. Although deeply- im- pressed by Scissors’ speech and songs the Eomicbooks (E(@)