The Savage (1952) (The Savage)

*Tima*

I was born James Aherne, Jr.

This is my story,

The story of how I became War Bonnet,

Son of Yellow Eagle.

A white boy who grew up to be an Indian.

My hair is dark now.

When I was 11, it was sandy yellow.

1868 was the year.

Our wagon train was passing through the Black Hills,

Indian country.

There were buffalos, great herds of them.

But I could only look. I mustn't reach for a gun.

For this was Sioux country, the scouts said.

And the Sioux had signed a peace treaty

With the government.

We were free to pass through their land

Only if we obeyed the rules made by these hostiles.

That's what the scout called Indians.

My father was a schoolmaster.

A good man, kind and brave.

We'd come west to build a new home.

There wasn't much left of the old one after the war

Between the states.

But even here, 2,000 miles from Virginia,

Dad never forgot the importance of books.

The wagon was his classroom.

Sometimes there were regular lessons.

Reading, writing and arithmetic.

But most of the time, he would read to us.

Maybe because he knew we liked it better.

Old poems, stories of great adventure,

Over and over.

Some of them I still know by heart.

I guess I'll never forget them.

Nor the sound of his voice as he read.

This was the last time Dad was ever to read to me.

I didn't know then that these Indians

Weren't the Sioux who had made the treaty.

They were Crows raiding Sioux territory.

They hated the Sioux

For having made peace with the white man.

More Indians came. Many more Indians.

Sioux Indians.

And they chased the murderers away.

The Crow had done a good job in the wagon train.

I was the only one left.

I wasn't trying to be brave.

I was just scared enough to fight back.

It was the Sioux chief, Yellow Eagle,

Who came at me first.

He grabbed the spear, then he began to talk to me.

I didn't know what he was saying because at that time,

I didn't understand the language of the Sioux.

I was really frightened.

But there was something in his voice,

Something that said maybe he wasn't going to harm me.

Then an argument started. I was sure it was about me,

That the others wanted to kill me.

Running Dog had taken a scalp from the Crow

Who laid dead next to my father.

Did he want mine next?

And that's when Yellow Eagle did a strange thing.

He made Running Dog give the scalp to me.

It was mine because I had killed the Crow.

In his eyes, I was a warrior,

And he gave me the name War Bonnet.

I wasn't frightened anymore.

All I wanted to do was to bury my father.

(Melancholic theme playing)

"So be it written in the Book of Love,

"I care not about the Book Above.

"Erase my name or write it as you will.

So be it written in the Book of Love."

By Omar Khayyam.

Amen.

If the council says war,

Will you fight against the white men, War Bonnet?

Only women ask foolish questions.

Am I not Yellow Eagle's son?

I am your friend. It is my right to ask.

If it were two days journey from a mountain,

Would you ask what you will do when you get to the mountain?

You wait to get there.

To cross a mountain, you can go two ways.

Up or around.

If the council says war,

There is only one way a Sioux can go.

I will follow the way of Yellow Eagle.

I am glad.

While you two talk and dream in the sunlight,

Others have gone after a herd of wild ponies.

Running Dog will catch the best ones for himself.

And who will teach Running Dog which are the best?

Hurry, before they're all gone.

And remember,

You must catch a white one. You promised that.

I will capture a white one for you, Luta.

The white pony will be yours.

Now you have two promises, little sister.

Little sister.

Man of stone. Man who sees no woman.

Man of no love.

Blind one.

War Bonnet always gets the best.

Because he is the best.

Is that how Luta feels?

Luta will smile on you

Like the moon smiles on the snow.

The pony is yours.

I give you back your own words.

I am your friend,

I have the right to give you this gift.

Take him.

But you promised Luta that you would...

Could a brother bring gifts to his sister?

It will come better from you.

When you give him to Luta, make certain I am not near.

Why?

Because when I see you looking like a lovesick calf,

I will laugh out loud

And Luta will take a stick to me.

Tomorrow's council will be the biggest in memory.

No bigger than the one 15 summers ago.

I was there.

White Thunder himself will speak tomorrow.

I learn words from greater chiefs.

They say even the white men fear him.

They say.

Small men easily give the name of greatness

To feel less small themselves.

My Pehangi speaks wisdom.

And I do not like stupid talk of war.

My Pehangi also talks too much.

That is a fine shield you make for War Bonnet.

Will he use it against the whites?

War Bonnet is my son. My enemies are his.

He is ready to fight.

To fight Crows.

His heart does not forget, they killed his father.

I am his father.

Does his heart forget that his people were white?

You speak like Running Dog who hates him.

No.

That is not true. But my eyes are clear.

I say War Bonnet will not fight

Against his own people.

My shield will be the finest at the council.

We will be there soon.

I have words to say to you before the council sits.

It is said the white soldiers have broken the treaty.

If we go to war,

I would want you to ride at my side.

That is why I made you this shield.

My son, I ask only one thing.

Do not bring disgrace to my name.

The white men are our friends.

Have they not told us so?

In our treaty,

They said our people could live forever in peace and friendship

In the Black Hills.

They said we could hunt in peace and friendship

As far south as the great river.

They said their soldiers would protect us

Against other white men

Who might seek to steal our land,

Spoil our hunting.

Those are the things they promised.

This is the treaty

I, White Thunder, signed in blood.

But the white men found yellow iron

In the Black Hills.

They built an iron road across our land

And brought the iron horse.

Some of our people try to stop these white men.

The soldiers came as they had promised.

But they were not the soldiers who made the treaty.

Their chiefs were not the chiefs

Who signed the treaty.

They punished our people who try to stop these invaders.

They drove our people from our hills.

But do not be angry at the white men.

Remember, they are our friends.

Soon they will be coming to protect you.

To take you to the reservations.

They will give you cow beef and white flour to eat.

You will hunt no more.

They will take away your weapons and ponies.

In peace and friendship,

You who were once great warriors

Will sit by the fire and mumble stories

To your grandchildren.

And they will laugh behind your bent backs.

But the grandchildren of White Thunder

Will not laugh.

They will know that White Thunder and the Oglalas

Stayed behind to hunt and fight. Yeah.

Let Yellow Eagle speak for the Miniconjou.

I am chief of all the Miniconjou.

I too was at Horse Creek at the signing of the treaty.