The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1898-12-25
BY W. A. FRASER.
Copyright, 1898, by W. A. Fraser.)

" Z
the Crees. He was the Seneca of this
great tribe; that was when he was
Sweet Grass.
AT the beginning he was next to
nothing; wee mite of a copper-colored
pagan Cree. His father had been toe
Indifferent to even fight well, so he had
been slain like an obese buffalo bull.
In the hunt there was no warrior to
kill the buffalo for the widows wig
wan. She followed up the others, and
CLEANED what they left. In times of
| plenty this was not so difficult; but
when hunger stalked through the flap
ping tepees of the Indians in the winter
months, the cleaning was nothing, and
existence for the squaw and her little
brown papooSe became a struggle with
the coyote-like dogs of the camp for the
things the others threw away.
That was the childhood of Sweet
Grass. He did not even own a name
he was only the nokum's child; nobody
had time to even dream a name for
him.
If in the scramble for bits of jerked
buffalo, he and the dogs fell out, and
he struck his canine rivals, somebody
would retaliate-the dogs were in the
right of it; it was only the nokum S
child, anyway. The dogs belonged to
somebody, after d fashion-so many to
each tepee; but Sweet-Gra was only
the nokum'S child.
His mother carried wood and smoked
meat for others; stripped the red will
low and made kinnikinick for lazy
braves with lazier wives, and in return
she was allowed to poke through the
offal and find her living there-if she
could. She was like the village poor
woman, with the usual boy who scrubs
and washes and does all the village
chores.
Sweet Grass was the boy. AS soon as
he opened his eyes on the pleasant
world he began to discover that life was
a fight
This conviction deepened as he grew
older; and the village outcast always
grows old fast. His years oUtstretched
his stature; at IA he was small. but
hard as nails; fighting for existence did
not tend to soften him.
At IA he said to the nokum: Mother,
I am now a warrior. l have not even
a name AS 1 lie on my buffalo skin at
night the wind whispers to me through
the grass and the purple moose flowers
and asks me what is my name. What
can I answer, naother?'
u answer that l am the nollum's
child; and the wind laughs and sweeps
away, and the pack of dogs howl and
my heart grows black with anger. If
I were maiden the water would
trickle from my eyes, my heart grows
so sad. But [ am a warrior, mother a
brave; and my heart beats hard and
fast against my ribs, and I know that
it is knocking that it may grow-grow
big, and strong, and fierce like Black
VOLTS.
yesterday a big black eagle flew
over the snow mountains, and his shad-
ow swept like a cloud across the grass
that is like the yellow gold. He flew
toward the sun, mother-south toward
the land of the Blackfoot, and he called
to me. I looked up and [ saw his eyes
they We're bright and fierce just like
Black VOLTS.
But he was looking at me, mother,
and he whistled shrill and sharp, as
though the great spirit called me TO fol-
low.
Tonight am going, mother. In Eve
nights, if I do not return, it will not
matter, for 1 have no name. 1 will
bring a name if I come back
The nokums eyes were old and
blurred, the pupil was glazed with a
blush cast and the whites were
streaked yellow and red, so not much
EXPRESSION could creep into them. They
did not tell what she thought-they
were like badly co!ored beads. Fer
tongue did not know how to give eX-
presson to sentiment; her poor old
heart tugged and strained at its lash
ings and hurt her, but she was used to
pain. It never occurred to her to COM
plain because Of pain.
SO the boy looked in the poor gnarled
eyes and saw nothing. The white with
cred lips told him nothing, and he
thought "the nokum is glad-she would !
like her boy to have a name"
He took his bow and his knife and |
his tenderly feathered arrows, and held /
them in his arms as a lover fondles |!
the roses he takes to his lady love. It |
was a mans bow for the boys arms |
were like steel-got Of the fighting with |
the dogs and everything else in the |
camp.
Cheap little bits of inery he logged !
himself out with; trihes of brass lied in |
his long. black. shining hair: 4 little |
remnant of bead work, blue and yellow |
and black, that his mother had saved |
from the deersllin shirt If his worth !
less father, he fastened about his neck.
When he was ready to start the no
KUN made his young heart bound With
delight when she handed him pair of
lelicately beaded mocassins: they had
been worked for a young chief.
For when you are coming back, she
said.
Then the sky swallowed him UP. The
Nokum saw only millions of stars
blinking at her as she sat in the rent
If her battered old tepee, and looked
.oward the land of the Blac;lfoot.
THE NAMING OF SWEET GRASS.
The chinook wind blew through the
Gathers of the boys arrows and
ubhed against his cheek. How light
lis heart wasi For fourteen years he
lad fought for existence without a
lame; in a few days he would come
Jack again with one, and wearing the
beautiful mocassins now tied Up in the
title pack on his back
H. reached up his hand and patted
hem affectionately. AS lie iii SO he
anne to earth with a smash that shook
lis body-he had put his foot IN a
,adger hole.
AS he rose he chided the rose-pink
lowers which hid the hole. They were
he badger hole scntinels-the cleome.
Why did you not tell me, little
,rothers?" he said, as he tore them up
" the roots, reproachfully. They
ould not tell me because I had no
ame, I suppose" he muttered, as he !
I'D on again.
The thought stopped him-he turned
nd called back to the crushed BIOS
oms: when I come again this way
ou will know my name"
All night he travelled his feet crush
ag eagerly through the bunch grass
nd the silvered wolf willow; the long.
wild pea caught a. his
egs and caressed them gently The
aillardies and the daisies stared Sleep
y at him as he passed like gray
hadow.