🧚 The Blindness of Pi-waṕ-ōk · page 2

“Yes,” the man replied, “it has a nest here, and just as I came in I saw it carrying something to feed its young.70 Far up on the cliff by which we are camped is a short pine-tree, growing out from the climbing rock; there, in the branches, the bird has built its home.”71

“Friend,” Pi-waṕ-ōk cried; “it is as I thought: my chance has come.72 I beg you to guide me to that place, for I believe the traveller of the sky can cure me.”73

“Hai-yu,” the friend exclaimed, “you know not what you ask.74 With my good eyes, and seeing plainly where to cling and step, it would be a hard task to reach that height; for you it would be sure death to attempt the climb.”75

“Even so,” the blind one replied, “yet must I try to do it.76 Death comes in many ways.77 It stares us in the face at every turn.78 Wherever we go, whatever we do, it lies in wait for us, like a panther for the deer by a forest trail.79 I am not afraid; have pity and help me try to reach that nest.”80

Í-kai-si cried, and begged him to think no more of such a dangerous thing; the friend told how straight and high the cliff was, how difficult to climb, but they talked in vain.81 He said that if no one would help him, he would go alone, on until he fell and died.82 At length, seeing that he was not to be turned from this which he had set his mind upon, the friend consented to be his guide, and they started.83

It was but a few steps to the foot of the cliff, where the fallen rocks made a sloping hill; they soon surmounted this, and then the climb began.84 Sometimes they were side by side, the leader guiding the blind one’s hands and feet, and again he was ahead, and reaching down would pull Pi-waṕ-ōk up on a narrow shelf.85 All the people of the camp stood watching them with wide-staring eyes, and as the two went on, higher and higher, over places where it seemed there was no jutting rock to offer foothold, they held their breath, fearing, expecting, that the next step would be the climbers’ last.86

Pi-waṕ-ōk’s courage won.87 At last, tired and breathless, they came to where the gnarled and stunted tree hung to the cliff’s face by its giant roots.88 “Hai!” said the guide; “I never thought we would reach it; here we are at last.89 And now, what next?”90

“Help me up into the nest.”91

“That I cannot do.92 There is no room for more than one.93 The limb would break if both of us were on it.”94

“Then,” said Pi-waṕ-ōk, “I will go alone,” and he began to climb out on the trunk, his friend telling him just where to reach for a hold on the spreading branches.95 Then came the most dangerous feat of all, to climb over the rim of the wide and loose-sticked nest; but that too was accomplished, and the tired man lay down in its hollow beside the scared and hissing fledglings.96 “Go,” he called out to his friend, “go and leave me for a time here alone.”97

The young man climbed on up to the summit of the cliff, and walked away to a distant point, where he waited until he should be called.98

Pi-waṕ-ōk lay motionless; the young birds ceased their frightened cries, and all was still save for the breeze, which sung through the tree-top with a mournful sound.99 If the limb on which the nest was built gave way from his added weight, he knew that he would fall upon the rocks far below, a crushed and shapeless mass.100 It was an uneasy and frightful thought.101

And now from afar the parent bird espied him in the nest, and swooped down with a terrible rushing roar, like far-off thunder.102 Down, down, she came, swift as an arrow, to the very edge of the nest, and then soared upward with a bound, the rushing air behind swaying the tree as if a hurricane was passing.103 Again and again, four times in all, the bird made a rushing dive at the helpless man, and each time he heard its nearing cry he prayed, crying out that he had not come to harm its young, but to ask its aid.104 And at last the whitehead seemed to understand, for after the fourth fierce rush, it slowly sailed around and settled on the edge of the nest.105

“Hai-yu,” Pi-waṕ-ōk cried, “be you male or female, father or mother of these young birds, as you love them, pity me.”106

“I am their mother,” the bird replied, “and, since you have called upon me in their name, say what is in your mind; I will help you if I can.”107

Then the blind one told of his affliction, and how through great danger and sore distress of mind he had climbed the cliff, hoping the great bird might cure him.108

“Alas,” said the whitehead when he had finished, “what you ask is beyond my power; nor could my husband, who is away hunting, help you.109 None of my kind could make you see again, for we have never had occasion to treat the eyes.110 We live to great age, but our eyes remain strong and clear to the very end.”111

Pi-waṕ-ōk wept.112 “Alas!” he cried, “how my hopes have fallen.113 This long and dangerous climb, after all, brings no relief.”114

“Not so,” said the bird.115 “I cannot give you sight, but in other ways I can do much for you.116 Here is a feather from my tail; take it, and keep it carefully, and you shall live to old age.117 And since you are helpless in your blindness, I will do more.118 I will teach you many wonderful things, and will give you power to heal the sick.119 Then you will not sit sad and idle in your lodge.120 The people will keep coming for you to go here and there to heal them and to practise your mysterious rites, and you will be so busy that you will forget your blindness.”121

Then the bird began, and through the long morning taught Pi-waṕ-ōk, showing him the secret of many wonderful things, telling him how and what to use for certain ailments.122 It took a long time to explain it all, and just as the bird finished, the blind one fell asleep.123

After a little he awoke.124 “Put out your hand and feel,” the whitehead said.125 He did so and found he was lying on grassy ground.126

“You are on the prairie at the top of the cliff,” the bird continued; “your friend is sitting away over there on a point.127 Rise up and motion him to come, for I must leave you now.”128

When the young man saw him beckoning, he came running with all his might.129 “Ah!” he cried, as he came near, “you are cured.”130

“No,” Pi-waṕ-ōk replied.131 “I am still as blind as ever.”132

“Then how came you here?133 How could you climb that awful cliff and still be blind?”134

“I do not know,” said Pi-waṕ-ōk.135 “I was asleep in the whitehead’s nest, and when I awoke I was here.”136

The way home was easy, for they followed the rim of the valley to a point beyond the cliff, and then descended a sloping hill.137 And when they had arrived at camp the people came crowding around to hear all that had happened.138

As the whitehead had said, Pi-waṕ-ōk became a great medicine man and healer of the sick, and, through the secret power that the bird gave him, he was able to do many strange things.139 He and his wife, Í-kai-si, lived to a great age.140 He was the greatest healer the Bloods have ever had.141