“Yes,” answered Brush, knowing as the rest of us did, what this secret was; “we are willing.”
“You of the Seven, are you satisfied with the answer?”
There was silence. “Then,” continued the leader of the Seven, “I must have the answer of each one of the Five.”
Brush again signified his assent, and the rest of us followed. Having arrived at a mutual understanding which awakened in each one a fraternal feeling, there ensued among all the boys a lively chattering. When the fervor of the friendly demonstration abated, Aleck, in his deep voice, said, “Waʻ-tha-dae shu-geʻha!”11
Immediately there was silence, and each one held his breath expectantly, for we recognized the ritual words of “the Leader” in the game, “Obeying the Command,” words which had been sacred to generations of boys who had preceded us.
“Those are the very words,” whispered Edwin to me; “now listen, hear where the Command will come from, and where it will go.”
“The Word of Command approaches,” continued Aleck, with unmoved face; “from the head of the Ne-shu-de12 it comes, wrapped in a black cloud, the mantle of thunder, like the mighty whirlwind it comes; the great trees of the pine-clad mountains bend to its fury; its voice echoes through the valleys, and the animals, big and little, tremble with fear. On it comes, sweeping over the wide plains; the angry lightnings dart from the cloud; it approaches the village of the Ponkas, at the mouth of the Niobrara, passes it and continues its course down the Ne-shuʻ-de; now it has come to the pictured rocks; it reaches the bluffs of the Cut-lake; but on it comes, swifter and swifter it comes; it is now at the old Omaha village, at the graves of the little ones; it comes—it is here!”
There was a pause, and we all waited in suspense. Just then the wind rattled the windows and the owl up in the graveyard hooted.
“George!” called the leader, in a solemn tone.
“Present!” promptly responded George in English, as though answering Graybeard’s roll-call. A ripple of suppressed laughter spread among the boys. Aleck, I doubt not, was giggling inside.
“Edwin!” continued the leader, in the same tone.
“Ah-ho!” said Edwin, giving the response and imitating the voice of a grown-up and serious warrior.
“The Word of Command is before you two,” continued Aleck, “the Leader;” “and it is, that soon after Graybeard has gone to bed you are to go to the village and enter the house of Haeʻ-sha-ra-gae, where you will see a woman making pemmican. You will say to her, ‘Woman! we are the commanded and the bearers of the word of Command. Of you we demand a bag of pemmican. Give willingly, and you shall go beyond the four hills of life without stumbling; there shall be no weariness in the pathway of life to hinder your feet, and your grandchildren shall be many and their succession endless!’ Fail not in your mission. Your way out of the house shall be through one of the windows in our dormitory, and by a rope.”
“It is bedtime, boys, come right up,” called Graybeard, from the head of the stairs. “See that the large doors are bolted.”
When we were in bed, Graybeard went softly downstairs, and we heard him open his door, close it, then lock it. Some of the youngsters were still awake, and, when they heard the closing of Graybeard’s door, began to talk. It seemed as though they would never stop and go to sleep, so that we could carry out the Word of Command. After a while Aleck thought of a plan, and started a game often played by small boys at night; he said, loud enough for the little boys to hear, “Thaʻ-ka!” Brush and the rest of us repeated the word, one after the other, and each of the wakeful little fellows, according to the rules of the game, was obliged in his turn to utter the word, and then there was silence, for no one can speak after he has said the word. Soon heavy breathing among the little ones gave sign that they had entered the land of dreams.
It was near the middle of the night when one by one the members of the Big Seven and the Middle Five noiselessly arose. George tiptoed to a corner and brought out a large coil of rope. We went with it to the window directly over that of Graybeard’s bedroom. I do not know why we selected that window, the only dangerous one in the dormitory, but there seemed to be a fatality about it. Very softly the window was raised; George slipped the noose at the end of the rope around his body, then climbed through the window. Slowly we let him down the three stories to the ground. Then we hauled the rope up again, and let Edwin down in the same manner. We closed the window, leaving space enough for the rope, which remained dangling.
On entering the village, the two boys were met by a pack of noisy curs that snapped and snarled at their heels. As the dogs became bolder in their attacks, the lads struck right and left with the heavy sticks they carried; one dog limped away yelping, and another lay thumping his tail on the ground, stunned.
The door of the house designated by the leader of the Big Seven squeaked loudly on its rusty hinges as the boys swung it open without the ceremony of knocking. A woman at work in one corner of the room looked up at them, smiled good-naturedly, and said in a sympathetic tone:
“Such a dark night as this! On what errand do they come, and little White-chests, too?”
Four
