The Trial Path

It was an autumn night on the plain. The smoke-lapels of the cone-shaped tepee flapped gently in the breeze. From the low night sky, with its myriad fire points, a large bright star peeped in at the smoke-hole of the wigwam between its fluttering lapels, down upon two Dakotas talking in the dark. The mellow stream from the star above, a maid of twenty summers, on a bed of sweetgrass, drank in with her wakeful eyes. On the opposite side of the tepee, beyond the centre fireplace, the grandmother spread her rug. Though once she had lain down, the telling of a story has aroused her to a sitting posture.

It was an autumn night on the plain. The smoke flaps of the cone-shaped tepee fluttered gently in the breeze. A large, bright star shone in the low night sky among countless points of light. Between the fluttering flaps, it peeped through the wigwam’s smoke hole at two Dakotas talking in the dark. A young woman of twenty lay on a bed of sweetgrass, gazing at the star’s soft light. On the other side of the tepee, beyond the central fireplace, her grandmother spread out her rug. Though she had lain down, the telling of a story had stirred her to sit up.

Her eyes are tight closed. With a thin palm she strokes her wind-shorn hair.

Her eyes are tightly closed. She strokes her wind-shorn hair with her thin palm.

"Yes, my grandchild, the legend says the large bright stars are wise old warriors, and the small dim ones are handsome young braves," she reiterates, in a high, tremulous voice.

“Yes, my grandchild, the legend says the large, bright stars are wise old warriors. The small, dim stars are handsome young braves,” she repeats in a high, shaky voice.

"Then this one peeping in at the smoke-hole yonder is my dear old grandfather," muses the young woman, in long-drawn-out words.

"Then the one peeking in through the smoke hole over there is my dear old grandfather," the young woman muses, drawing out her words.

Her soft rich voice floats through the darkness within the tepee, over the cold ashes heaped on the centre fire, and passes into the ear of the toothless old woman, who sits dumb in silent reverie. Thence it flies on swifter wing over many winter snows, till at last it cleaves the warm light atmosphere of her grandfather's youth. From there her grandmother made answer:

Her soft, rich voice floats through the darkness inside the tepee, over the cold ashes piled on the central fire. It reaches the toothless old woman, who sits silently, lost in thought. From there, the voice flies swiftly back over many winters, until it reaches the warm, bright air of her grandfather’s youth. From there, her grandmother answered:

"Listen! I am young again. It is the day of your grandfather's death. The elder one, I mean, for there were two of them. They were like twins, though they were not brothers. They were friends, inseparable! All things, good and bad, they shared together, save one, which made them mad. In that heated frenzy the younger man slew his most intimate friend. He killed his elder brother, for long had their affection made them kin."

"Listen! I am young again. It is the day your grandfather died. I mean the older one, for there were two of them. They were like twins, though they were not brothers. They were friends, inseparable! They shared everything, good and bad, except one thing, which drove them mad. In that heated frenzy, the younger man killed his closest friend. He killed his elder brother, for their long affection had made them family."

The voice of the old woman broke. Swaying her stooped shoulders to and fro as she sat upon her feet, she muttered vain exclamations beneath her breath. Her eyes, closed tight against the night, beheld behind them the light of bygone days. They saw again a rolling black cloud spread itself over the land. Her ear heard the deep rumbling of a tempest in the west. She bent low a cowering head, while angry thunder-birds shrieked across the sky. "Heyã! heyã!" (No! no!) groaned the toothless grandmother at the fury she had awakened. But the glorious peace afterward, when yellow sunshine made the people glad, now lured her memory onward through the storm.

The old woman’s voice broke. Sitting on her feet, she swayed her stooped shoulders back and forth. She muttered helpless exclamations under her breath. Her eyes were shut tight against the night, but she saw the light of days gone by. Again, she saw a rolling black cloud spread over the land. She heard the deep rumble of a storm in the west. She bowed her head in fear as angry thunder-birds shrieked across the sky. "Heyã! heyã!" (No! no!) groaned the toothless grandmother at the fury she had awakened. But her memory drew her on through the storm to the glorious peace afterward, when yellow sunshine made the people glad.

"How fast, how loud my heart beats as I listen to the messenger's horrible tale!" she ejaculates. "From the fresh grave of the murdered man he hurried to our wigwam. Deliberately crossing his bare shins, he sat down unbidden beside my father, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He had scarce caught his breath when, panting, he began:

"How fast and loudly my heart beats as I listen to the messenger's horrible story!" she exclaims. "He hurried to our wigwam from the murdered man's fresh grave. He deliberately crossed his bare shins and sat down uninvited beside my father, who was smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He had barely caught his breath when he began, still panting:

"'He was an only son, and a much-adored brother.'

"'He was an only son and a much-loved brother.'

"With wild, suspecting eyes he glanced at me as if I were in league with the man-killer, my lover. My father, exhaling sweet-scented smoke, assented—'How,' Then interrupting the 'Eya' on the lips of the round-eyed talebearer, he asked, 'My friend, will you smoke?' He took the pipe by its red-stone bowl, and pointed the long slender stem toward the man. 'Yes, yes, my friend,' replied he, and reached out a long brown arm.

He glanced at me with wild, suspicious eyes, as if I were working with my lover, the man-killer. My father breathed out sweet-smelling smoke and agreed. "How," he said. Then he interrupted the round-eyed storyteller as "Eya" was on his lips. "My friend, will you smoke?" he asked. He took the pipe by its red-stone bowl and pointed the long, slender stem toward the man. "Yes, yes, my friend," the man replied, reaching out a long brown arm.

"For many heart-throbs he puffed out the blue smoke, which hung like a cloud between us. But even through the smoke-mist I saw his sharp black eyes glittering toward me. I longed to ask what doom awaited the young murderer, but dared not open my lips, lest I burst forth into screams instead. My father plied the question. Returning the pipe, the man replied: 'Oh, the chieftain and his chosen men have had counsel together. They have agreed it is not safe to allow a man-killer loose in our midst. He who kills one of our tribe is an enemy, and must suffer the fate of a foe.'

"For many heartbeats, he puffed out blue smoke that hung like a cloud between us. But even through the smoky haze, I saw his sharp black eyes glittering as he looked at me. I longed to ask what fate awaited the young murderer. But I dared not open my mouth, afraid I would scream instead. My father pressed the man for an answer. Returning the pipe, the man replied: 'Oh, the chieftain and his chosen men have met to discuss it. They have agreed it is not safe to let a killer roam free among us. Anyone who kills a member of our tribe is an enemy and must suffer an enemy's fate.'

"My temples throbbed like a pair of hearts!

"My temples throbbed like two hearts!

"While I listened, a crier passed by my father's tepee. Mounted, and swaying with his pony's steps, he proclaimed in a loud voice these words (hark! I hear them now!): "Ho-po! Give ear, all you people. A terrible deed is done. Two friends—ay, brothers in heart—have quarreled together. Now one lies buried on the hill, while the other sits, a dreaded man-killer, within his dwelling." Says our chieftain: "He who kills one of our tribe commits the offense of an enemy. As such he must be tried. Let the father of the dead man choose the mode of torture or taking of life. He has suffered livid pain, and he alone can judge how great the punishment must be to avenge his wrong." It is done.

While I listened, a crier rode past my father's tepee, swaying with his pony's steps. He called out in a loud voice (listen! I hear his words now!): "Ho-po! Listen, all you people. A terrible deed has been done. Two friends, yes, brothers at heart, have quarreled. Now one lies buried on the hill, while the other sits in his home, a feared killer." Our chief says: "Anyone who kills a member of our tribe commits the crime of an enemy. He must be tried as an enemy. Let the dead man's father choose how the killer will be tortured or put to death. The father has suffered terrible pain. He alone can judge how severe the punishment must be to avenge the wrong done to him." It is done.

"'Come, every one, to witness the judgment of a father upon him who was once his son's best friend. A wild pony is now lassoed. The man-killer must mount and ride the ranting beast. Stand you all in two parallel lines from the centre tepee of the bereaved family to the wigwam opposite in the great outer ring. Between you, in the wide space, is the given trial-way. From the outer circle the rider must mount and guide his pony toward the centre tepee. If, having gone the entire distance, the man-killer gains the centre tepee still sitting on the pony's back, his life is spared and pardon given. But should he fall, then he himself has chosen death.'

"'Come, everyone, and witness a father's judgment on the man who was once his son's best friend. A wild pony has now been lassoed. The killer must mount and ride the raging beast. Stand in two parallel lines from the grieving family's center tepee to the wigwam opposite it in the great outer ring. The wide space between you will be the trial path. The rider must mount in the outer circle and guide the pony toward the center tepee. If the killer travels the whole distance and reaches the center tepee still on the pony's back, his life will be spared and he will be pardoned. But if he falls, he has chosen death himself.'

"The crier's words now cease. A lull holds the village breathless. Then hurrying feet tear along, swish, swish, through the tall grass. Sobbing women hasten toward the trialway. The muffled groan of the round camp-ground is unbearable. With my face hid in the folds of my blanket, I run with the crowd toward the open place in the outer circle of our village. In a moment the two long files of solemn-faced people mark the path of the public trial. Ah! I see strong men trying to lead the lassoed pony, pitching and rearing, with white foam flying from his mouth. I choke with pain as I recognize my handsome lover desolately alone, striding with set face toward the lassoed pony. 'Do not fall! Choose life and me!' I cry in my breast, but over my lips I hold my thick blanket.

"The crier stops speaking. A hush falls over the village, and everyone holds their breath. Then feet rush through the tall grass, swish, swish. Sobbing women hurry toward the trial path. The muffled groan from the circular camp is unbearable. I hide my face in the folds of my blanket and run with the crowd. We head toward the open space in the outer circle of our village. In a moment, two long lines of solemn-faced people mark the path of the public trial. Ah! I see strong men trying to lead the lassoed pony. He bucks and rears, white foam flying from his mouth. I choke with pain as I recognize my handsome lover, desolately alone. His face is set as he strides toward the lassoed pony. 'Do not fall! Choose life and me!' I cry in my heart, but I hold my thick blanket over my lips.

"In an instant he has leaped astride the frightened beast, and the men have let go their hold. Like an arrow sprung from a strong bow, the pony, with extended nostrils, plunges halfway to the centre tepee. With all his might the rider draws the strong reins in. The pony halts with wooden legs. The rider is thrown forward by force, but does not fall. Now the maddened creature pitches, with flying heels. The line of men and women sways outward. Now it is back in place, safe from the kicking, snorting thing.

“In an instant, he leaps onto the frightened animal, and the men let go. Like an arrow shot from a strong bow, the pony charges halfway to the center tepee, its nostrils flared. The rider pulls back on the strong reins with all his might. The pony stops stiff-legged. The rider is thrown forward by the force but does not fall. Now the maddened animal bucks, kicking its heels into the air. The line of men and women sways outward. Then they return to their places, safe from the kicking, snorting animal.

"The pony is fierce, with its large black eyes bulging out of their sockets. With humped back and nose to the ground, it leaps into the air. I shut my eyes. I can not see him fall.

"The pony is fierce, its large black eyes bulging from their sockets. With its back hunched and its nose to the ground, it leaps into the air. I close my eyes. I cannot watch him fall.

"A loud shout goes up from the hoarse throats of men and women. I look. So! The wild horse is conquered. My lover dismounts at the doorway of the centre wigwam. The pony, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion, stands like a guilty dog at his master's side. Here at the entranceway of the tepee sit the bereaved father, mother, and sister. The old warrior father rises. Stepping forward two long strides, he grasps the hand of the murderer of his only son. Holding it so the people can see, he cries, with compassionate voice, 'My son!' A murmur of surprise sweeps like a puff of sudden wind along the lines.

"A loud shout rises from the hoarse throats of men and women. I look. There! The wild horse has been conquered. My lover dismounts at the doorway of the center wigwam. The pony, wet with sweat and trembling with exhaustion, stands beside him like a guilty dog beside its master. The grieving father, mother, and sister sit at the entrance to the tepee. The father, an old warrior, rises. He takes two long strides forward and grasps the hand of his only son's murderer. Holding it up for the people to see, he cries in a compassionate voice, 'My son!' A murmur of surprise sweeps through the lines like a sudden gust of wind.

"The mother, with swollen eyes, with her hair cut square with her shoulders, now rises. Hurrying to the young man, she takes his right hand. 'My son!' she greets him. But on the second word her voice shook, and she turned away in sobs.

The mother stands up. Her eyes are swollen, and her hair is cut straight at her shoulders. She hurries to the young man and takes his right hand. 'My son!' she says. But on the second word, her voice shakes, and she turns away sobbing.

"The young people rivet their eyes upon the young woman. She does not stir. With bowed head, she sits motionless. The old warrior speaks to her. 'Shake hands with the young brave, my little daughter. He was your brother's friend for many years. Now he must be both friend and brother to you,'

"The young people stare at the young woman. She does not move. She sits still with her head bowed. The old warrior speaks to her. 'Shake hands with the young warrior, my little daughter. He was your brother's friend for many years. Now he must be both a friend and a brother to you,'

"Hereupon the girl rises. Slowly reaching out her slender hand, she cries, with twitching lips, 'My brother!' The trial ends."

Then the girl stands up. She slowly reaches out her slender hand and cries, her lips twitching, "My brother!" The trial ends.

"Grandmother!" exploded the girl on the bed of sweet-grass. "Is this true?"

"Grandmother!" exclaimed the girl on the bed of sweet grass. "Is this true?"

"Tosh!" answered the grandmother, with a warmth in her voice. "It is all true. During the fifteen winters of our wedded life many ponies passed from our hands, but this little winner, Ohiyesa, was a constant member of our family. At length, on that sad day your grandfather died, Ohiyesa was killed at the grave."

"Tosh!" the grandmother answered warmly. "It is all true. During our fifteen years of marriage, many ponies came and went. But this little winner, Ohiyesa, was always part of our family. Finally, on the sad day your grandfather died, Ohiyesa was killed at the grave."

Though the various groups of stars which move across the sky, marking the passing of time, told how the night was in its zenith, the old Dakota woman ventured an explanation of the burial ceremony.

The groups of stars moved across the sky, marking the passage of time. Though they showed that night was at its height, the old Dakota woman ventured to explain the burial ceremony.

"My grandchild, I have scarce ever breathed the sacred knowledge in my heart. Tonight I must tell you one of them. Surely you are old enough to understand.

"My grandchild, I have hardly ever spoken of the sacred knowledge in my heart. Tonight I must tell you one of those sacred things. Surely you are old enough to understand.

"Our wise medicine-man said I did well to hasten Ohiyesa after his master. Perchance on the journey along the ghostpath your grandfather will weary, and in his heart wish for his pony. The creature, already bound on the spirit-trail, will be drawn by that subtle wish. Together master and beast will enter the next camp-ground."

"Our wise medicine-man said I was right to send Ohiyesa quickly after his master. Perhaps your grandfather will grow tired on his journey along the ghostpath. In his heart, he may wish for his pony. The pony, already on the spirit-trail, will be drawn to him by that faint wish. Together, master and pony will enter the next camp-ground."

The woman ceased her talking. But only the deep breathing of the girl broke the quiet, for now the night wind had lulled itself to sleep.

The woman stopped talking. But only the girl’s deep breathing broke the silence, for the night wind had lulled itself to sleep.

"Hinnu! hinnu! Asleep! I have been talking in the dark, unheard. I did wish the girl would plant in her heart this sacred tale," muttered she, in a querulous voice.

"Hinnu! hinnu! Asleep! I’ve been talking in the dark, and no one heard me. I did wish the girl would plant this sacred tale in her heart," she muttered in a complaining voice.

Nestling into her bed of sweet-scented grass, she dozed away into another dream. Still the guardian star in the night sky beamed compassionately down upon the little tepee on the plain.

She nestled into her bed of sweet-smelling grass and drifted into another dream. Above the plain, the guardian star still shone gently down on the little tepee.