A bit of background. Historians tell us that the Arapahos lived
on the eastern plains of Colorado and Wyoming after migrating from Minnesota
and North Dakota .
They lived in transportable tipis so they could follow the bison, and provide
meat for their families. They were skilled hunters. Therefore, they had plenty of
hides to attend their needs and some to spare. They became great traders and
often sold their furs to whoever might desire them. Until they encountered the
horse, they used a team of dogs and the travois to move from one place to
another.
As with all cultures, the Arapaho have their own spooky stories...
Tales of ethereal creatures that rove around in the dark...
They give us a legend that originates long before the coming of
the horse and it goes something like this:
On a particular day during a lengthy hunting trip, a group of
Arapaho men maneuvered across some pretty rough terrain. The hunt had taken
them near some mountains and a shallow stream they needed to cross. In so
doing, one of the young warriors felt a sudden and excruciating pain in his
ankle as he traversed the rocky bed. The warrior persevered and despite his
pain, kept pace with his companions until they pitched camp. But come the morning,
the swollen ankle of our intrepid hero, prevented him from traveling any
farther.
His companions provided a crude shelter. They gathered enough
firewood to sustain him for a few days, left him with food and instructions to
return to the tribal camp when he felt well enough to continue his trek.
That night, a blizzard hit. Our hero found himself imprisoned
within his shelter for several days. However, at times, nature can relent and
provide resources for survival. One afternoon, while approaching the end of his
supplies, our warrior finally spied some buffalo rooting in the snow. He
retrieved his bow and stealthily... (I’ll spare you the details of the gory
kill...)
After skinning the animal and carving out a generous portion, he
retreated to his makeshift shelter, fired up a pit of coals, and roasted his
dinner.
Just then, the crunch of footsteps on the new-fallen snow entered
the ears of our hero. He re-armed himself and waited. The flap of his shelter
flung open and... a skeleton, dressed in a tanned robe entered his domain. In
that moment, our hero’s anxiety level escalated, as one might expect. Our
phantom assured our warrior that all was well, and not to be frightened. “I
have taken pity on you,” the apparition whispers hoarsely. “Now you must take
pity on me. Give me some of those ribs you've roasted to eat, for I am very
hungry. While I eat, I’ll tell you a story.
“It was I who gave you the pain in your ankle,” revealed the
phantom. “It was I who caused your ankle to swell, so you could not follow your
brothers. If you had followed them, you would've lost your life as they have
lost theirs.” The specter told the warrior that a war party attacked and killed
his comrades. “It was I who saved you,” he said. Then, he stretched forth his
bony digit and rubbed the warrior’s ankle, healing it in the same instant. “Now
you can walk again, and though your enemies are still abroad, I’ll lead you
back to your village.”
True to his word, the ghoulish phantom led the warrior away
from his shelter. They traveled many miles together. Finally, after leading him
up an incline, the warrior could see his village and the smoke from the village
fires. In that same instant, his ghostly companion vanished.
So, it would seem from our Arapaho tale, not all otherworldly
beings are bad, nor are all of them good. And, some of those creepier things
out there might just turn out to be your guardian angel...
Thanks for posting! Love reading about the Arapaho tale!!!
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