Ghost Buffalo

Blackfoot

Once, while returning from a battle with the Crees, four Blackfoot warriors spotted a trail left by a sledge.

“Look,” first warrior said, “Let us follow it, and we will meet up with them.” And so they pursued the tracks for a very long time, but never met with their people.

“Hah!” third warrior said, “It goes nowhere. Let us leave this ghost trail and continue our trip home.”

“No!” said the other three. “We know it has been made by our own people, and we will follow it some more.”

On they went, until evening when fourth warrior noticed some familiar things on the ground. They all crawled down off their horses and examined these objects. One was a stone hammer, and the other was a dog sledge. “I know these,” fourth warrior cried out. “They belonged to my mother, who is dead, and these were buried with her many years ago. I think this is odd.”

The four warriors camped near the objects. Early the next morning very strange things began to happen. They heard the sounds of many people, all busy, all doing the things people do when they live together in a camp. Yet, there was no one there except themselves and their horses. Then the first warrior exclaimed, “Look, it is my father’s buffalo corral. And look! There he is, shooting a buffalo. Le us go and help!” They all jumped on their horses and raced to help.

When they reached the spot where they’d seen the first warrior’s father, they found only a dead mouse and a red arrow. Second warrior dismounted and said with surprise, “It is my father’s arrow!” He picked it up, but it turned into grass, so he put it back down, and it turned back into a red arrow.

Third warrior noticed a buffalo rock lying nearby. He picked it up for good luck and prayed for strong medicine, then slipping the rock into his medicine pouch, he rode away.

Eventually they reached their home camp. But upon arriving, fourth warrior and his horse died. Soon afterward, first and second warriors died during a battle. But third warrior had his strong buffalo rock, brining him powerful medicine. He lived to be an old man. And, he always had plenty of buffalo.

From Traditional Stories and Foods: An American Indian Remembers, by Joan Leslie Woodruff