This story was told by the prominant Mandan chief Four Bears to the Western artist and historian George Catlin; their long-term friendship was strained when Catlin questioned whether this exploit was an act of courage on Four Bears' part or not.
For several days Four Bears had waited in the woods near the Ojibway village, hoping for a chance to ambush one of their chiefs or one of their prominent warriors, hoping for a chance to take a prestigious scalp back to his people, the Mandan.
Now, as he crouched in the bushes near the river--the Ojibway village was in full sight, not more that three hundred yards away--he was forced to admit that he was not to be so favored. Not once since he'd been here had he seen his quarry come near the river. Always, the men he was after sent their wives and daughters, always they remained safe in the village.
It was time to go, he decided. Time to go home. But, as he watched two Ojibway women make their way down to the water's edge, he also decided that it just wasn't proper for him to go entirely empty-handed.
The two women resembled each other in a general sort of way; they might have been sisters. The older appeared to be in her early twenties; the younger an obvious teenager, no more than nineteen at the outside. Bearing a pot to carry water back in and a few articles of clothing they evidently meant to wash, they strolled down to the bank, unaware of the watcher.
For a while, Four Bears didn't move. The two girls, thinking themselves alone, stripped off their moccasins and dresses, dipping them in the water to wash them as well. Four Bears' eyes narrowed. At another time, under another circumstance, he might well have wanted to capture these two; both had attractive faces, and the younger one was downright beautiful. Both had slender bodies, narrow waists, trim legs, and charming, softly rounded breasts. If they weren't kept to become Mandans, they'd fetch handsome prices from the Sioux, the Cheyennes, or the Arikaras.
But he also understood that there was no way he was going to get away from the Ojibway village with two struggling and screaming captives. Having made his decision, he slipped silently from the bushes and worked his way carefully toward the two naked girls. As he crept up behind them, holding his knife in his hand, they were still unaware of his presence.
Once he was close enough, he moved like a striking panther. The older girl, presumeably the more experienced of the two, was his first target. He grabbed her by her long hair, yanked her to her feet, and pulled her body hard against his own. Flashing over her shoulder, his knife passed through her left breast and buried itself deep in her chest.
Blood spurted out; releasing her hair he clamped his hand over her mouth, choking off her desperate cry. He twisted his blade viciously, then yanked it out. Immediately it came streaking down again, again driving in through her breast, a little lower this time.
The younger girl, shocked into silence, had jumped to her feet; wide-eyed and evidently paralyzed she watched him drive his knife into her companion's chest a third time. The girl in his arms went limp, her eyes rolling back into her head, urine draining down her thighs; Four Bears released her, allowing her to fall to the ground, where she crumpled into a heap.
"There is no use in running, no use crying out, little one," Four Bears told the younger girl, speaking to her in her own tongue. "Your life has ended, here, tonight."
His words brought her out of her shock. She looked past him, back up at the village, her eyes narrowing as she tried to judge her chances; she seemed to realize, after a moment, that they were virtually non-existant. Challengingly, she put her hands on her hips. "Do the Mandan," she asked him coldly, "now find it honorable to kill unarmed women?"
Keeping his eyes on her, he gestured behind himself. "Your village is close," he told her. "And I am alone. Mine is an act of courage. Your death cries will bring many warriors, very quickly!"
The girl faced him down sternly. "She made no cries, and I will make no cries," she declared flatly. She took a step toward him and looked down at the corpse at his feet. "Killing me will be the act of a coward!" She gestured toward the dead girl. "As killing her was!"
He smiled at her. "We will see," he observed, "if you can meet your death without cries! But, whether you do or do not, your scalp like hers will go to my village on my belt!" Matching an action to his words, he pulled the dead girl up by her hair and cut through the skin at her forehead; a moment later her still-bleeding scalp was, indeed, dangling from his belt.
Then he turned his attention to the teen-ager. Staring him down again, she squared her shoulders. "If you mean to kill me," she told him, "there is no need to wait. It is a good day for me to die; kill me now."
He smiled again and he extended his hand. The girl, with only a little hesitation, took it. He drew her toward himself almost tenderly; she came to him, her chin still high and her eyes still proud. When she was close he released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, almost like a lover might. Holding her close, he paused for a moment.
Finally she spoke again. "If you mean to kill me," she repeated, "then let your knife find its way into my body, Mandan. I am eager to feel its bite..."
He smiled at her. Then he plunged his knife into her naked and unprotected body, piercing her abdomen under her ribs on the left and burying the blade completely.
She grunted and she clutched at him, her eyes going wide and her whole body stiffening. Four Bears held the blade in her body for several long seconds before snatching it out. Blood spurted; Four Bears, still holding her, watched it flow. His arm hung at his side, his hand holding the knife loosely.
The girl shuddered in his grip; she made some little gurgling sounds as blood streamed down her side and leg, but, true to her word, she did not scream. "I thank you for that gift, Mandan," she gritted after a moment. "I can not give you one to equal it, though I would if I could! May I have another?"
He laughed. "Yes," he answered. "You may." As he raised the knife again she leaned backwards slightly, lifting her breasts, offering him her chest. With a broad grin, he pressed the edge of the knife against her right breast and dragged it sideways, cutting a deep groove in her skin. He stopped when he reached her nipple, allowing the blade to nick the edge of it.
She'd accepted the cut in stoic silence, but her eyes widened again and she held onto him tightly when he put the knife's point back in, right in the center of the bleeding slit. Pulling her body toward his and keeping his blade horizontal so it would pass between her ribs, he forced the knife in slowly and steadily, working it back and forth whenever he encountered any resistance.
Staring up at his face with enormously wide eyes, she trembled and she gasped repeatedly, but she did not fight him and she still did not cry out. Blood erupted anew, spilling down over her breast. Her body suddenly went utterly rigid; Four Bears pushed it a bit deeper, and she relaxed, shuddered, relaxed again. Leaving the knife buried in her chest, Four Bears let her go, let her fall. She squirmed, one leg pulling up and stretching out repeatedly. Finally, her ragged breathing ceased; one small foot twitched a few times, after which she was still. When he drew the knife from her chest and sliced her scalp from her head, she did not move at all.