This is the story as it was told to me by an old Pawnee Indian, who heard it from his grandfather, who heard it from his grandfather, Chief Dirty Belly.
The Pawnee Indians were good farmers but during the hunting season, they moved their camp to follow the Buffalo herds.
There was an old woman, whose name was Rain in her face. She lived with her grandson, Dirty Belly. His parents had died several years before. They lived outside the main camp, and when the others moved on, they would scavenge whatever was left behind.
One day the camp moved, and Dirty Belly and his grandmother started looking for anything left behind that they could use. Dirty Belly heard a noise on the other side of a small hill. When he walked over it, he saw a poor looking, mud splattered, skinny, tan coloured, horse.
“Leave him,” his grandmother said. “They left him behind for the coyotes, he is done. If we were Apache, we could eat him. But we are not, so he is useless.”
Dirty Belly persisted and eventually his grandmother gave in.
The three of them walked many miles until they saw the new camp. There they built their teepee and waited for news of the Buffalo. The next day, buffalo scouts returned and told the chief, Iron Spoon, that they had seen the buffalo herd and with them was a special spotted bull.
The chief gathered everyone together and told them that whoever brought him the hide of the spotted bull, he would give them 12 of his finest horses, and the hand of his daughter, Little New Rider. He told all the young braves to line up and when he gave the signal, they were to race to the herd.
Dirty Belly lined up with the others, then he heard a mysterious voice coming from the done horse.
“Listen to me. Lead me down to the creek, dig in the mud until you find clay, then paint me with it.”
The young man followed the horse’s instructions then returned to the line-up. The chief gave the signal, and all the braves took off. Dirty Belly leaped on his horse and joined them. His horse began running very fast and was soon leading. He spotted the buffalo herd as they began running away, but his horse was able to keep up. Coming close to the spotted bull, he thrust his spear with all his strength. The spear found its mark, the heart, and the spotted buffalo fell with a loud thud.
All the camp was watching when Dirty Belly came back with the spotted buffalo hide. “A strange thing has happened,” the chief said. “The wandering boy has brought the spotted hide. I will give him my 12 best horses and the hand of my daughter.” Dirty Belly replied, “Your daughter is a fine woman, and the 12 horses would make my grandmother wealthy. But I choose to keep the spotted hide and give it as a blanket to my grandmother.”
When darkness fell, the grandmother made a campfire, and they feasted on the fresh buffalo meat. With full bellies and glad hearts, the grandmother went to the teepee to sleep, while Dirty Belly lay beside the fire with his horse. The mysterious voice spoke again.
“Hear me now. After two sunsets, a war party of your enemies will come. When they are lined up and ready to spill blood, you are to ride me into their midst. You must count coup (touch the enemy while doing no harm and survive) on their chief, then on three of their warriors. Four times, but no more.”
When the sun rose on the third day, the thundering of horse hooves woke the old chief. He yelled out “Oglala, Oglala!’ The Oglala Lakota had been trying for many years to drive the Pawnee from their homeland. All the camp awoke and came running to their chief. They had no guns and were afraid.
Suddenly, they saw Dirty Belly riding fast toward the enemy.
The Oglala fired dozens of arrows, but each fell harmlessly to the ground. Dirty Belly went straight to their chief and struck him so hard he fell from his horse. Then he struck three of the enemy warriors before turning his horse and racing back to his people. As he rode up to his tribe, he told them he had counted coup four times and was not hurt. “I will go again, come with me.” So, all the warriors followed him as he charged the enemy again. But he forgot the words of the horse. When they rode close to the enemy, an arrow found the chest of the done horse. He fell and Dirty Belly with him.
Now, Dirty Belly had to fight on foot. After an hour had passed, the Oglala ran away. As Dirty Belly looked out upon the battlefield, he saw many dead warriors, many arrows stuck in the ground, and the done horse lying motionless. He took a blanket and spread it on his horse, crying and asking forgiveness for not listening.
When he rose to walk back to camp, a noise behind made him turn. As he looked around, he saw the done horse walking toward him. Dirty Belly ran to him, hugging the neck of the one he thought was dead. The voice returned. “Lead me to the ravine by the river, then leave me until the sun rises.”
When the boy returned the next morning, he was surprised to see another horse, a beautiful white horse, standing by his. As he walked closer, the voice said, “Leave me again, until the sun rises.”
This continued for a total of twenty days. Now Dirty Belly was wealthy with a herd of 20 horses plus the done horse. All his tribe respected Dirty Belly, and the horse they thought was done.
Dirty Belly was now a great warrior, and he won the hand of the chief’s daughter, Little New Rider. The done horse lived for many years and was the leader of the herd. When the grandmother died, Dirty Belly wrapped her in the spotted blanket, which was a great honor.
Dirty Belly lived to be an old man. He told his grandson this story, who told it to his grandson, who told it to his grandson, who told it to me.
Legends teach lessons if we listen and pass them on.
The Pawnee Indians were good farmers but during the hunting season, they moved their camp to follow the Buffalo herds.
There was an old woman, whose name was Rain in her face. She lived with her grandson, Dirty Belly. His parents had died several years before. They lived outside the main camp, and when the others moved on, they would scavenge whatever was left behind.
One day the camp moved, and Dirty Belly and his grandmother started looking for anything left behind that they could use. Dirty Belly heard a noise on the other side of a small hill. When he walked over it, he saw a poor looking, mud splattered, skinny, tan coloured, horse.
“Leave him,” his grandmother said. “They left him behind for the coyotes, he is done. If we were Apache, we could eat him. But we are not, so he is useless.”
Dirty Belly persisted and eventually his grandmother gave in.
The three of them walked many miles until they saw the new camp. There they built their teepee and waited for news of the Buffalo. The next day, buffalo scouts returned and told the chief, Iron Spoon, that they had seen the buffalo herd and with them was a special spotted bull.
The chief gathered everyone together and told them that whoever brought him the hide of the spotted bull, he would give them 12 of his finest horses, and the hand of his daughter, Little New Rider. He told all the young braves to line up and when he gave the signal, they were to race to the herd.
Dirty Belly lined up with the others, then he heard a mysterious voice coming from the done horse.
“Listen to me. Lead me down to the creek, dig in the mud until you find clay, then paint me with it.”
The young man followed the horse’s instructions then returned to the line-up. The chief gave the signal, and all the braves took off. Dirty Belly leaped on his horse and joined them. His horse began running very fast and was soon leading. He spotted the buffalo herd as they began running away, but his horse was able to keep up. Coming close to the spotted bull, he thrust his spear with all his strength. The spear found its mark, the heart, and the spotted buffalo fell with a loud thud.
All the camp was watching when Dirty Belly came back with the spotted buffalo hide. “A strange thing has happened,” the chief said. “The wandering boy has brought the spotted hide. I will give him my 12 best horses and the hand of my daughter.” Dirty Belly replied, “Your daughter is a fine woman, and the 12 horses would make my grandmother wealthy. But I choose to keep the spotted hide and give it as a blanket to my grandmother.”
When darkness fell, the grandmother made a campfire, and they feasted on the fresh buffalo meat. With full bellies and glad hearts, the grandmother went to the teepee to sleep, while Dirty Belly lay beside the fire with his horse. The mysterious voice spoke again.
“Hear me now. After two sunsets, a war party of your enemies will come. When they are lined up and ready to spill blood, you are to ride me into their midst. You must count coup (touch the enemy while doing no harm and survive) on their chief, then on three of their warriors. Four times, but no more.”
When the sun rose on the third day, the thundering of horse hooves woke the old chief. He yelled out “Oglala, Oglala!’ The Oglala Lakota had been trying for many years to drive the Pawnee from their homeland. All the camp awoke and came running to their chief. They had no guns and were afraid.
Suddenly, they saw Dirty Belly riding fast toward the enemy.
The Oglala fired dozens of arrows, but each fell harmlessly to the ground. Dirty Belly went straight to their chief and struck him so hard he fell from his horse. Then he struck three of the enemy warriors before turning his horse and racing back to his people. As he rode up to his tribe, he told them he had counted coup four times and was not hurt. “I will go again, come with me.” So, all the warriors followed him as he charged the enemy again. But he forgot the words of the horse. When they rode close to the enemy, an arrow found the chest of the done horse. He fell and Dirty Belly with him.
Now, Dirty Belly had to fight on foot. After an hour had passed, the Oglala ran away. As Dirty Belly looked out upon the battlefield, he saw many dead warriors, many arrows stuck in the ground, and the done horse lying motionless. He took a blanket and spread it on his horse, crying and asking forgiveness for not listening.
When he rose to walk back to camp, a noise behind made him turn. As he looked around, he saw the done horse walking toward him. Dirty Belly ran to him, hugging the neck of the one he thought was dead. The voice returned. “Lead me to the ravine by the river, then leave me until the sun rises.”
When the boy returned the next morning, he was surprised to see another horse, a beautiful white horse, standing by his. As he walked closer, the voice said, “Leave me again, until the sun rises.”
This continued for a total of twenty days. Now Dirty Belly was wealthy with a herd of 20 horses plus the done horse. All his tribe respected Dirty Belly, and the horse they thought was done.
Dirty Belly was now a great warrior, and he won the hand of the chief’s daughter, Little New Rider. The done horse lived for many years and was the leader of the herd. When the grandmother died, Dirty Belly wrapped her in the spotted blanket, which was a great honor.
Dirty Belly lived to be an old man. He told his grandson this story, who told it to his grandson, who told it to his grandson, who told it to me.
Legends teach lessons if we listen and pass them on.
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Lonnie McKelvey is a freelance writer from Fort Payne, Alabama, and is a regular contributor to Grandparents Day Magazine. |
