he tossed the piwàkwad to Kìnà Odenan. She snatched it out of the air with her stick and ran off. A Nippissing warrior charged her with his stick wavering over his head. Kìnà Odenan weaved by him. As she ran toward the rock, Agwanìwon Ikwe came to her side. Two Nippissing then tried to get her between them, but Agwanìwon Ikwe clubbed the first one across the forehead and the second one she kneecapped. This enabled her close friend to near the rock. With over thirty Nippissing warriors chasing her, she swung her stick with an overhead motion and the wooden piwàkwad hit the rock, shattering with a resounding thud. We had drawn first blood in many ways; Agwanìwon Ikwe had injured two warriors on the run and had set the tone for the rest of the day.
The Nippissing warriors then received a new piwàkwad and the game continued. The piwàkwad carrier ran toward the centre of the field with at least forty warriors in front of him and behind him. The only way that we could get at him was to charge toward the horde of men running up the field. I led a rush of fifty players directly at the main body of the human wave coming toward us.
We met them about midfield with a resounding crash of bodies, sticks, and blood-curdling yells. A huge warrior knocked me into the air and I hit the ground with such force, my back felt like it had been realigned. Lying on my flipside, I could see the blue sky and everything going in circles. I knew that if did not get up in an allotted time the gamekeepers would force me to leave the field. I staggered to my feet and took a deep breath. Nothing was hurt but my pride. I looked around and at least fourteen or fifteen of our warriors and almost as many of the Nippissing were lying bleeding from head wounds or were disabled enough from other injuries that most of them had to leave the field.
I could see the Nippissing in the distance, and they still had the piwàkwad. With our people scattered over the field this turned out to be an easy score for the opposition.
I ran back to our end and told our warriors that we needed to run in a staggered formation up the field. The older warriors would lead on the offence and supply interference with the younger men and the two women being the ball carriers. When a Nippissing approached them, they were to hold on to the ball until the last moment and then pass it to the nearest open carrier. We needed to use our speed and cunning to combat the brute force of the Nippissing. If the Nippissing took the piwàkwad away from us, it was critical we attack them immediately so they could not form and charge as they did the last time.
With this plan, we advanced the ball up the field for most of the day, but were never able to get close enough to hit the rock. The enemy was always able to knock our ball carriers over and obtain the piwàkwad. We did score once and the Nippissing tried to run with all their warriors down the field as they had previously. However, we changed our tactics and instead of meeting them head on, we let the main body of players rush by us and then attacked the ball carrier from both sides. This worked extremely well, helping us to recover the piwàkwad and start our own rush.
The day advanced with both teams sustaining injuries. With darkness setting in, each side was probably down to about one hundred and twenty warriors and the Nippissing were leading us by two scores. With very little time left in the day, a group of Pangì Shìshìb’s young warriors made a mad run down the field. With lightning speed and wild recklessness, they hit the scoring rock. With that final count, the keepers decided the first day was over.
I went to midfield and Mìgàdinàn-àndeg and I touched sticks to end the day. We retired to our respective sides of the fields to eat, sleep, and wait tomorrow’s sunrise.
As I left the field, Wàbananang and my wolf pup, Ishkodewan, met me. My wife had a glow about her now that she was carrying our child. Kissing her on the cheek, she handed me a bowl of food and I sat on a robe she had put inside the lean-to that was set up near the field. She then left and went back to the village, leaving Ishkodewan and me. The wolf pup had grown a lot this summer and my two nephews, with my direction, had trained him well. Ishkodewan never left my side when I was around. Because the pup was too young to take on a hunt as of yet, I often left him with Esiban and Agwingos. The small dog, which had taken a liking to Ishkodewan, protected him from the other dogs.
With the wolf pup at my side, I was soon asleep.
I awoke in the morning to the sound of heavy rain. This would make the pàgàdowewin game more of a trial now. The field would be muddy and warriors would not have the footing they needed. I looked out into the field and observed large puddles of water. This made me smile. Today would be very interesting.
Our women had come back in the morning to prepare us food. My wife entered the lean to and handed me a bowl. The food was hot and I hoped that it would sustain me through the day. Once we were on the field, we could not leave for food or drink until the day was over.
Mìgàdinàn-àndeg and I met again at midfield to start the day. This time I won the piwàkwad and rushed down the field. With ten of our warriors leading me, I looked for one of the young warriors to pass off to. However, they were busy trying to knock down Nippissing warriors. I neared the rock and at least seven of the enemy were running toward me with one intention: to get the piwàkwad. Looking to my left, I saw a young warrior in the open. I hurled the piwàkwad to him and as soon as he received it, he sent it hurtling to the scoring rock. I was so intent on watching the pass and shot, I did not notice a huge water hole. I stepped into it, slipped, and then slid the length of it on my face. The water hole was not deep, but it was quite long and I skidded for an extended distance. This brought howls of laughter from both sides and all who were watching off the field. This embarrassing moment led to a change of play now for both sides. Whenever anyone was near water, players were trying to hit, shove, or trip the opposition into the muddy mess.
Halfway through the day, the field was a quagmire, with warriors from both sides either covered in mud or drenched from the rain. The teams were scoring at will now, because all the warriors were concerned about was whether they could dump someone into a puddle of water. It did not matter if they had the piwàkwad or not.
Luckily, no one had drowned yet. There seemed to be fewer injuries now because instead of each of the teams trying to whack each other with their sticks they were trying to push one another into mud or water.
This carried on for the rest of the day, and when Mìgàdinàn-àndeg and I met at midfield with the other chiefs, the elders told us the game had ended tied.
Mìgàdinàn-àndeg then looked at me and said, “Mahingan even though nothing has been decided, your warriors have proven themselves worthy opponents on the field of pàgàdowewin.”
“So have yours, Mìgàdinàn-àndeg, I agree nothing has been decided. Kitchi Manitou has spoken and led us on another path. I put this to you before you leave; I will give you a mìkisesimik (wampum belt) to take to your people. This belt will tell what happened in the past few days and will signify a peace between our Nations. As you said when you appeared on our shore, we have been enemies and fought but only small battles. Never have we ever raided each other’s villages. We have a common enemy in the Haudenosaunee. It is time to bury our differences and become allies. No more will we kill each other. We will respect your hunting grounds as you ours. If because of need one of us has to hunt in the other’s homeland, we will leave an offering and only take enough to survive. If there is a common enemy, we will come to each other’s aid. Tomorrow I will have a wampum belt for you to take back. If your people agree, send us a belt in return to seal the pact. When your answer comes back, we will smoke the sacred pipes.”
“So be it, Mahingan. I will take this wampum belt back to my people, and we will send you an answer before the snows.”
With that, the two Nations left the field and retired to their lean-tos to tell stories of the last two days. Our drummers and singers performed and our women made a great feast. Even though there had been no winner from the past two days, there had been an understanding that would help to ensure the future
