Finders Keepers (18 page)

Pleased, Danny handed the paper to his teacher, and Mr. Berg hung it up.

“I already knew that the stone points were bound onto the end of wooden lances,” Danny continued, “so I had a go at making one.”

He lifted up his lance with his best homemade spear point bound to the end. He showed it to the class. “What I didn't know,” he explained, “was that the First Nations hunters had something to help them throw these lances further. It has a great name…”

Danny rummaged in the box and with a conjurer's flourish brought out his polished grooved and knobbed stick. “It's called an atlatl.”

Danny passed the lance and atlatl to the kids sitting on the front row. “You can look at these,” he said. “Then we'll go outside afterwards and I'll demonstrate how they work.”

There was a buzz of excitement as the students passed around the two objects.

Danny held up his hand for silence and looked seriously at the class.

“But the best thing that happened because I found the Scottsbluff point, was that I got to know a real Peigan. I got to know my friend Joshua.”

Danny spoke of his friendship with Joshua and their visit to Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, and he told of his meeting with the old man.

“Joshua calls him 'Naaahsa'. That's Blackfoot for 'Grandfather', but he's not like any grandfather I've met before…” Danny hesitated, searching for the right words. “He's special… He's an Elder and when he talks… he makes me see pictures in my head…. he tells me things in a way I can really understand them… and this is one of the pictures he helped me see…” Danny looked at his teacher and Mr. Berg walked forward to the edge of the desk and together he and Danny carefully lifted the cardboard box top clear.

The class craned forward and 27 voices gasped in admiration.

Danny had crafted a elaborate papier maché model of Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump.

“Guess you all know where this is,” Danny grinned, and the class nodded and giggled, “because it's just down the road from here. But this is how it works…”

Danny fiddled in his box again and brought out dozens
of tiny brown pipe cleaner buffalo. He placed them as a herd on the upper hillside of the model and reached in his box again. This time he brought out the holy woman. He place her at the bottom of the jump and he explained how she 'called' the herd and sang to the iniskim.

The class leaned forward over their desks, eyes wide with fascination.

Next Danny brought out more pipe cleaner people. Some were the runners, hiding in the hills and spying on the herd, a couple were on hands and knees, with tiny wolf skins on their backs.

“It's scary hunting buffalo,” said Danny. “They are so big and so fast and I guess most lances would just injure them and make them even more angry. These people would have to be brave and strong and work carefully together or they'd get trampled.”

Danny made his model people stalk the buffalo and moved the herd down to the valley funnels running towards the cliff edge. Then, with a yell that made everyone jump out of their seats, Danny pulled a string and cardboard cut-out people hidden behind the rock piles shot up, showing how the buffalo were startled into their fatal stampede.

The class rose to their feet, rushed forward and crowded around the desk.

“Do it again Danny, show us how it worked,” begged Brett Gibson.

Danny looked utterly nonplussed. “I… I've not finished, yet. I've got more to say… I haven't shown you all my scrap book yet.” He looked to Mr. Berg for help.

Mr. Berg laughed and slapped him on the back. “The price of being too successful Danny… Didn't you realize how long you spoke to us all?”

Danny shook his head. “No.”

“It's nearly lunch time! There's just time for you to show the class how the model works and we'll have to dismiss. We'll look at your scrap book this afternoon, and maybe you could demonstrate the atlatl.”

“Isn't it a great model, Mr. Berg?” Mike jumped up and down excitedly. “Wasn't that a great report? How many marks are you going to give Danny? Should be good, eh?”

Danny stiffened.

The class stopped what they were doing and turned to Mr. Berg.

“Hmmm.” Mr. Berg spoke slowly and thoughtfully, “I marked all the rest of you using the five areas we discussed in class. Now let's see… presentation was the first one,” he grinned. “I guess we can't fault Danny on that one. He did a different kind of presentation from the rest of you but he spoke like a professional and used pictures and objects. Your talk was really well rehearsed Danny.”

Danny and his mother grinned at each other.

“Should get full marks for that,” said a voice from the back. Several class members nodded in agreement.

“Now, content,” Mr. Berg paused. “You know Danny, I have to give you full marks both for content and for research. In fact…” he looked around thoughtfully, “I think you did more actual research that anyone else in the class.”

“He sure did,” agreed Mike, “with the trip to Head-Smashed-In, and the museum here and stuff, as well as all the books he read.”

“Your organization of facts was excellent too,” continued Mr. Berg. “You went smoothly from one topic to the other and didn't miss things out.” He paused. “Unfortunately one of the areas I also marked was for writing and spelling. Now Danny hasn't done a written report so I guess I can't give him the 20% in that area.”

Danny looked down and shuffled his feet.

“Hey!… That's not fair,” said Marylise. “Danny had to talk to the whole class,” she looked around at the back of the class, “even the principal,” she pointed out.

“Yeah. That's harder than writing,” said someone else. “I'd die.”

“Danny did some stuff no-one else did,” pointed out Michael. “That model's far out.”

Everyone looked accusingly at Mr. Berg.

“You think I need to mark Danny's finished project a different way then?” Mr. Berg asked.

Everyone nodded.

“OK. I think Danny deserves…. 99%.”

The class clapped and cheered and crowded around Danny.

“Hey, how does it feel to be top of the class for once?” laughed Michael.

At first Danny couldn't answer. “99 per cent?” he whispered unbelievingly. “99 per cent?” Then he looked up at his teacher questioningly.

“What did I lose the one percent on Mr. Berg? What did I fail at?”

With a big grin Mr. Berg whipped a large black felt tip pen out of his pocket and handed it to Danny. “You handed in your work without your name on it Danny,” he laughed.

And they all watched while Danny, hands shaking, scrawled his signature on the base of the model.

The board meeting in the museum was in full progress. Seventeen men and women sat silently around a large polished table.

Eventually the chairperson stirred. “It's tricky alright, Charlie,” she said. “If we don't handle this right and the Peigans decide to make a fuss, it could hit national news.”

“Right, that's all we need, a confrontation,” muttered a voice from the far end of the table.

Charlie Budzynski shook his head. “No, no, don't exaggerate. That's not an issue. This request hasn't come officially from the Peigan people. It's just something my son found out and felt strongly enough about to want me to point out to the board. Mind you…” he added thoughtfully, “if we handle it right, it could do us a lot of good.”

“Well, I think it's ridiculous,” said Mrs. Saunders forth-rightly. “Why should a 10-year-old boy dictate to us what photos we can hang in our museum? Photos don't hurt anyone.”

“Nobody's 'dictating', Mrs. Saunders.” Mr. Berg leaned forward and looked across at the chairperson. “Danny's in my class, and it was through a Socials project he researched that he came across this information. He's a bright boy, I
was most impressed with his project and the accuracy of his research. I think we should give him and his friend a hearing, then decide what to do.”

The rest of the board nodded in agreement, so the chairperson went to the door and ushered in a scared-looking Danny and Joshua.

The chairperson smiled at them and pulled forward two seats. “Thank you for coming to our meeting, please sit down.”

Danny and Joshua perched uneasily on the edge of their chairs while the chairperson turned to the board members. “This is Danny Budzynski and his friend, Joshua Brokenhorn.”

Everyone looked at them.

“Come on Danny,” whispered Joshua nudging him in the ribs. “Say your bit and let's get out of here.”

Danny gulped. This was far worse than the class project. He looked around wildly and saw his father and Mr. Berg sitting together. They both smiled encouragingly.

“It's about the display in the museum, in the First Nations gallery.” His voice came out tight and high in the big room. Danny cleared his throat and started again.

“See… I've been to the museum a lot for a couple of years… And… and the thing I liked best was the photograph of the Sundance.”

Everyone nodded understandingly.

“But then I got to know Joshua here and… and I did some research and listened to Joshua and his grandfather… and I found out that the photo shouldn't be here at all.” He finished in hurry.

“That photo was given to us by the Glenbow Museum in Calgary. What is good enough for them is surely good enough for us,” said Mrs. Saunders flatly.

“But the people at the Glenbow museum aren't Peigan,” said Danny earnestly. “To First Nations people the Sundance is sacred. It should never have been photographed as it's too holy. The ceremonies are kept secret and it's a ceremony that they don't choose to share with white people.”

“Is this true?” said one of the other board members to Joshua.

Joshua spoke in a voice so soft the board had to strain to hear him. “My grandfather is one of the Peigan elders. He gave Danny the information but he said it's hard for white people to understand.”

“So what do they want us to do with the photo?” asked another member of the board.

Danny shrugged. “I dunno. I never asked. In fact the elders never asked me to come here… It was just my idea.” he finished miserably. “I just didn't feel good seeing the photo any more when I knew it was wrong. I think the elders would like it taken down.” Joshua nodded in agreement.

“Thank you Joshua, Danny. We really appreciate you giving us this information. The board will discuss the issue and let you know.” The chairperson rose and opened the door for them. Danny and Joshua filed out and the door closed behind them.

“What now?” Joshua asked, as he and Danny walked moodily down the sidewalk. “Do you think they'll take the picture down?”

Danny shrugged.

Joshua sighed philosophically. “Well, we tried. See you tomorrow morning?”

“I can't.” Danny looked uncomfortable. “There's something I've got to do.”

“I'm working for your Dad in the afternoon.”

Danny grinned. “Want me to come and scoop? I'll teach you how to do a quad.”

“Only if you promise not to touch the till.” Joshua fled, laughing, with Danny in full pursuit.

The next morning Danny had set his alarm early. There was only a hint of daylight as he quietly dressed and tiptoed
out of the house. He headed west across the fields jogging through the farm lands until he came to the prairie bluffs on the banks of the Oldman River.

The sunrise was liquid gold. It spilled across the sky, firing the tips of the distant mountains then flooded down across the prairie, gilding every blade of grass.

Danny moved slowly across the bluffs, eyes down, searching. He was looking for something he'd found on a postcard and pasted in his scrapbook, something Joshua had said could be seen on these bluffs. An inconspicuous tipi circle. Slowly and carefully his eyes raked the ground.