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NAIS is a compilation of stories and articles from various sources and media. All have been posted as originally written with all corresponding credits to the authors, images, and photographers.. We are not responsible for incorrect historical information or facts and will not be edited nor amended. This can be done in the “comments” section if you wish but all negative, insulting, derogatory, etc etc comments will not be posted.

 

Two Trails – The Indian Side of the Story

by Willie George (as told to Jack F. Contor)

Author’s Note: It is a great thrill to visit the sites of old Indian campgrounds and battlefields, to find an arrowhead or some other object fashioned ages ago. Such an experience immediately sets one to wondering, “Who were these people? What were they like as individuals? Who made this arrowhead? Was he an old man? A young man just setting out on his first war party? How long did he live? What was he like as a person? Was the woman who made this fragment of pottery or basketry happy? How many children did she have? Was she a warm mother?”

The questions are endless and usually they must remain unanswered because those who could have told the story have vanished from the earth. The men and women who can remember what Shoshone life was like before it was heavily influenced by white culture are all gone, but the memories of some their children are still fresh and available to anyone willing to listen and to appreciate these hardy people for what they were. Other writers have written of other tribes and some have even been fortunate enough to hear the stories from those who actually lived it.

The Shoshone and Bannock tribes of Idaho are not just “Indians” but a unique people who lived and worked in an environment much different from that of other tribes. For this reason,  Read more

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Little Dog’s Heap Big Coup

By Wayne Darwin

“Little Dog’s most memorable coup did not really tickle the hearts of his Piegan tribesmen, but his succeeding daring exploits were sufficiently bloody to delight the savage warriors, and he became their chief…”

The sun was sinking behind the rolling Montana hills when the Indian came pounding into the Fort Benton compound with the news that Little Dog, Head Chief of the Piegan Nation, had been knifed by some of his own people. “Another drunken brawl,” muttered the new post surgeon. He grabbed his case and lit out up the trail with the Indian messenger and a breed interpreter. A short time later the surgeon pushed through a wailing throng in front of the aged chief’s teepee and moved to the buffalo pad where the dying Indian lay. One glance told him that the old warrior was in the last throes, a calm rational state which usually preceded the death rattle.

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Little Brother of the Wolves

By Norman B. Wiltsey

“… the Pawnees are riding against us. We do not fear the Pawnees alone, as we have defeated them in battle. But this time they have found powerful allies to help them. Together they number nearly three times our warriors. The trail ahead will be bloody; many of us here tonight will die in fighting”

The sun had dropped far down the sky and the shadows lay long across the valley floor when Little Wolf first saw the canyon. Alone, engrossed in stalking imaginary enemies, he had ventured far from the village. With wolfskin pulled over his head and shoulders and arrow fitted to his bow-string , he had surprised and dispatched innumerable foes with never a sound to betray his presence. Emerging silently as a ghost from heavy brush, he found himself directly opposite the canyon mouth looming up across the valley. Something white glimmered just outside the canyon entrance. Looking closer, Little Wolf perceived three animal skeletons lying there. The huge one could only be a buffalo; the others, much smaller, probably wolves.

Now here was a wonderful opportunity for a Crow brave to test his woodcraft by making a correct approach, judging astutely what had happened, and filing away the facts of the situation in his mind for future reference. Heart pounding fast, skillfully utilizing every shrub and clump of grass for cover, Little Wolf crossed the valley and crept up on the skeletons.

 

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