THE CAPTIVE.
Die, would be, saidst thou? ay, indeed he would.
It is the letter of their own wild law,
The customs of his people, all exact,
That blood should be repaid with blood. And he
Would sooner die by inches; feel his limbs
Dissevered joint from joint, than see himself
In his own eyes degraded.
The Prisoner. A Tragedy.
[figure description] Page 001.[end figure description]
We read with admiration how Curtius rode into
the gulf in the Forum, to save his country, amidst
the shouts and applauses of surrounding thousands;
but when a poor, ignorant savage, rather than
do violence to his own rude notions of honor, awaits
a fate that he believes inevitable, in sadness and
silence, without the sympathy of an individual, or
any of the circumstances that spurred the Roman
to a glorious death, we think no more of it, and
the story is soon forgotten.
Of all the traits of aboriginal character, none is
more striking than the tenacity with which an Indian
adheres to his word, given under circumstances
when there is every inducement to violate the
pledge. Trust him in the way of business and
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his conscience tallies with his convenience. Engage
him to perform any service, but do not reckon
upon its performance. Make him a prisoner,
and set him at large on his parole, and no persuasion
will induce him to violate it. He will return
to meet his fate on the appointed day, as surely as
the sun will rise and set. His education teaches
him that death is but a change for the better, and
that it is more than anything unworthy and womanish
to shun it. The feelings of nature do not often
so far overcome the principles implanted in the
breasts of Indians by such instruction, as to make
them shrink from the penalty of their misdeeds.
To proceed with our story.
It is not known to all our readers, that the little
French village of Prairie du Chien was occupied
by the British troops during the late war; but the
fact is yet fresh in the memory of the Aborigines
in that quarter. The liberality of the English government
sunk deep into their minds, while the
red coats of its officials elicited no small admiration.
When the soldiery marched into the place,
many a swarthy dame and damsel, in the extremity
of wonder, displayed a set of teeth that might
have made a wolf blush, and ejaculated, eenah!
eenah! eenomaw! Before the forces evacuated
the village, they had an opportunity to admire the
promptitude of British justice also.
One evening, an Indian runner arrived at the
house of M. Joseph Rolette, a gentleman from
Montreal, who had settled at the Prairie, and acquired
the supreme control of the Indian trade,
which he still retains. He came to inform this
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magnate, that a party of Ioways, who were in his
debt, had had a good hunt; and that they were
encamped at the distance of two sleeps, west of
the Mississippi. They wished M. Rolette to send
for his furs, as it consisted neither with their plans
nor their laziness, to bring them. The messenger
might be about eighteen years of age; was tall,
straight, and of a very mild and prepossessing physiognomy.
`I will guide your men myself, Sagandoshee,'
(Englishman) said he, `if you will give me a pair
of red leggins, a looking-glass, and a paper of vermilion.
'
To terms so reasonable, M. Rolette could have
nothing to object. So he took Washtay Wawkeeah
(the Harmless Pigeon) into the kitchen,
and offered him a glass of whiskey. The youth
had not yet acquired that love of ardent spirits that
grows into a mania in Indians, after a little indulgence;
as, indeed, we believe it does in white
men. He put the glass to his lips, tasted, and set
it down with disgust, saying, `I love my body too
well to put a bad spirit into it.'
M. Rolette commanded that he should be hospitably
entertained, and then went into the quarters
of his engagès. (1) He ordered Jourdain and
Champigny to prepare themselves forthwith to depart
on a journey the next morning at daybreak.
They cheerfully began to patch their moccasins,
and to cut nippes (2) for their feet; for the weather
was cold.
In the morning, at day light, they were awakened
by Washtay Wawkeeah. He told them they
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must walk fast, to get to the Ioway camp in two
days.
The morning was clear, cold, and bracing, and
there was an inch or two of snow on the ground.
They crossed the Mississippi on the ice, and began
the route over a level prairie country, interspersed
with clumps of wood. The Indian gaily
led the way, humming a love song, with which, it
is probable, he intended to delectate the ears of
some red skinned damsel. Here it is.
I see Hahparm in the edge of the prairie,
She is handsomer than scarlet or wampum;
I will put on a blue legging and run after her, (3)
And she will flee as if afraid.
But I see, as she turns her head over her shoulder,
And mocks, and laughs, and rails at me,
That her fears are nothing but pretence.
She is handsomer than scarlet or wampum,
I will put on a blue legging and run after her, &c. &c.
At sunrise all three were in high glee. Washtay
Wawkeeah told them there were many pretty
witcheeannas (girls) in the camp where they were
going. `Your wife is old, and ugly,' said he to
Champigny. `You can throw her away and
take another now, if you like; or you can have
two instead.'
`That cannot be,' answered the voyageur. `We
never keep more than one wife at a time, and that
is often too many.'
`Eoo-pee-do!' cried the young barbarian,
laughing. `That is a rule some of you forget,
then. You are so eager to get our women, one
would almost believe you had none of your own.'
A deer now bounded across the path, if path it
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could be called, that path was none. `Meesoankeahpee,
' (brothers) said Washtay Wawkeeah,
`keep for the blue hill you see yonder, and I will
overtake you before you reach it, and bring some
venison with me.' He snatched the gun from
Jourdain, and plunged into the coppice where the
deer had taken refuge.
The voyageurs continued their route, stopping
every two or three miles to smoke, and beguiling
the time with stories of the Indian country.
`When I was a mangeur de lard,' said Champigny,
`I wintered at Traverse de Sioux, with
M. L'Hommedieu. One of our people was Nicolas
Gorèe, a Quebec man. At that time he was
about eighteen, six feet high, with blue eyes and
yellow hair. He was not very good at lifting or
carrying, but he could jump three feet further than
the best of us, and few of the Sioux could keep
up with him in a foot race. All the squaws said
he was Weechashtah Washtay, (a handsome man)
and he was in no wise backward to cultivate their
good graces. When any of them wanted a maple
knot to make a bowl of, he would volunteer to cut
down the tree, and no one was so ready as he to
catch an unruly horse for them. More than all,
he had a bunch of splinters always ready, pour
courir la lumette. (4) And though he never boasted,
it was thought he was well received on such
occasions.
But the time when he was in his turn to feel
the pain he inflicted on the Dahcotah (5) maidens
came at last. Sheenah Dootah Way, if her color
be excepted, was one of the prettiest girls I ever
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saw; certainly, one of the most good natured and
playful. If Gorèe was chopping wood, she would
come and sit on a stump, and strain her eyes with
looking at him. When the tree began to crackle,
she would start, and cry to him to take care. If
he laughed, she too disclosed two rows of teeth as
white as ivory. She would mend his old moccasins,
and make new ones for him; and once, when
he had the fever and ague, she attended him with
more than the affection of a mother. He had
lighted his match in her father's lodge, and would
fain have taken her to his bosom. He applied to
her father, but he demanded such a price for her,
as was quite beyond the lover's means. Gorèe
was addicted to gambling, and being usually unsuccessful,
he had spent all his wages, and run in
debt besides. Still he might have obtained her, if
she had been less attractive; but she was so handsome,
that several traders and interpreters had offered
her father a much higher price than could
be expected from poor Gorèe.
Well; M'Donald, a Scotch trader from Hudson's
Bay, cast the eyes, or rather the eye, for he
had but one, of affection upon Sheenah Dootah
Way. He offered, God knows how many guns,
kettles, and blankets, and her father consented,
notwithstanding her tears and remonstrances. The
old man might have relented; but an eight gallon
keg of high wines, promised by the suitor to be
given after the consummation of the nuptials, silenced
all scruples. The Scot endeavored to gain
her heart with presents of scarlet cloth, silver
brooches, and finery; but Sheenah Dootah Way
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preferred Gorèe in his red flannel toque and blanket
capot to M'Donald with all his riches. But
her repugnance to the match availed nothing. She
was invested with a complete new suit by her parents,
and carried neck and heels, (6) more dead
than alive, to M'Donald's apartment, like a lamb
to the sacrifice.
In the morning, Gorèe, sad and silent, went to
his daily task of wood-chopping. The new made
bride passed him again and again, hoping to attract
his attention, and no doubt, willing to elope with
him. But his feelings had received a deep wound,
and in his own mind he accused her of too ready
a compliance with the will of her parents. He
fixed his eyes steadily on his work, striking his axe
into the trees with convulsive energy, neither looking
to the right nor the left. When Sheenah
Dootah Way found herself totally disregarded, she
withdrew into the depth of the wood, as the squaws
will do, you know, when in affliction. There she
wailed and sobbed the whole day, but after sunset
was heard no more.
M'Donald was at first uneasy, and would have
followed her into the wood, but her father, better
acquainted with the disposition of the Indian girls,
told him to let her alone. `When she has done
crying,' said he, `she will return and get over her
sorrow.'
Midnight came and she had not shown herself.
M'Donald could be restrained no longer. He
seized a torch of birch bark, and accompanied by
her relations, and some of us, went in quest of
her. After searching some time, we found her,
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but good God! in what condition. In her despair
she had hanged herself, with a sash that was a
present from Gorèe. I need not tell you that such
instances of suicide are common with the Indian
women. (7)
Gorèe was with us. When he first saw the
corpse, his face became as pale as ashes, and he
neither moved hand, foot, nor eye, till we took it on
our shoulders to carry it away. Then he roused,
rushed like a tiger on M'Donald, and dragged him
to the ground. `Villain,' he shrieked, `this is your—
your work;' and he grasped his throat with a
force that all our efforts were barely able to overcome.
When he found himself denied the boon
of vengeance, he turned off into the darkness, and
none dared to follow him.
In the night the ice formed across the river, and
at sunrise Gorèe had not returned. We never
saw him again alive; but in the spring, a body was
found twenty miles below, on a sand bar. The
wolves and ravens had so disfigured it, that had it
not been for the moccasins on the feet, which we
knew at once for the handy work of Sheenah
Dootah Way, it could not have been identified.
Whether he had fallen into the river, or wilfully
destroyed himself, could never be ascertained. I
hope the former; for Monsieur Le Curé says, a
suicide has no chance to enter into paradise.'
This and other tales served to pass away the
time till Washtay Wawkeeah overtook them. He
had killed a buck, which he instantly transferred
from his own shoulders to those of Champigny.
The gun he restored to Jourdain. And shortly
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after, arriving at a pond bordered with trees, they
kindled a fire, and regaled themselves with steaks
cut from the yet warm carcass of the animal the
Indian had killed.
At sunset, they halted for the night, and Washtay
Wawkeeah informed them, that, by quick walking,
they might reach the place of their destination
on the morrow before nightfall. They cleared
away the snow, and cut rushes to sleep on, and
having dried their nippes and moccasins, laid down
to sleep.
The long dismal howl of a wolf that had been
attracted to within twenty paces of them by the
smell of the venison, was unheard by Jourdain and
Champigny. Not so with the Indian. He woke
from his slumber, and in an instant seized the gun
that leaned against a tree within reach. A new
and malignant expression stole over his features.
He examined the priming of the piece, and tried
the charge with the ramrod. Then, as he deliberately
levelled it at the sleepers, as they lay under
the same blanket, he perceived that while standing
upright, he could shoot but one of them. He recovered
the weapon, and laid himself flat on the
earth, within five steps of his victims. Having
them both in range, he fired, started to his feet,
dropped the gun, and fled.
Jourdain did not wake from his sleep of death.
Champigny, shot through the body, arose and
looked for the author of his wound. He did not
lose heart, but put on his moccasins, and tied his
belt tight round his body, to stop the effusion of
blood. The moon shone with unclouded
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brightness, and he slowly and feebly retraced his steps
by its light. The remainder of that night and the
next day passed, and he was yet on the road.
The next evening, the party sitting over the
wine at M. Rolette's table, was interrupted by a
loud knocking at the door. The bourgeois (8)
himself rose and opened it, and Champigny fell
inward on his face. M. Rolette was startled to
perceive that the man was bloody from head to
foot, and asked what had happened. He received
no answer; the voyageur was incapable of giving
any, for he had fainted.
He was carried into the dining room, and
brought to his senses with cold water and cordials.
He was just able to tell his story before he swooned
again. M. Rolette caused him to be put to
bed, sent for the surgeon, and his wound was
dressed. All was in vain: the wound, though not
necessarily mortal, had become so from his exertions,
and the delay of surgical aid; and he expired
before morning.
When Champigny had told his tale, Captain
Bulger, the British commanding officer, said, with
true military non chalance, that he would take the
proper measures in the morning, and the party returned
to the business of the evening.
The captain was not, however, destitute of humanity.
Attached to his command were several
Indian traders, who had received commissions
from the British crown, and whose vocation it was
to collect as many savages under the standard of
St George as they might, and to direct their motions.
Of these, Captain Bulger selected two,
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Duncan Graham and José De Reinville, and gave
them the command of forty Indians, and half that
number of soldiers. A guide was easily procured,
and they were ordered to proceed to the Ioway
camp and seize the murderer; or, if he could not
be found, to take as many prisoners as they could,
to be retained as security for his surrender. They
set forward immediately, and after three days travel,
reached the Indian camp. The Ioways were
advised of their approach, and the measures they
took to enter it by surprise were vain. They
found it deserted by all who were able to walk.
One old woman defended her lodge, axe in hand,
but was easily subdued. Reader, imagine some
hundreds of dogs, yelping in every note of the
gamut, and the screams of a cracked female voice,
and you have some idea of the sounds that greeted
the party. In one of the lodges they found an old,
gray haired man, who had either disdained to fly,
or distrusted his own ability to escape. To him
their object was easily explained.
`If one of my young men,' said the aged chief,
(for a chief he was,) `has proved himself a dog, let
him die the death of one. Blood for blood is but
just and right, and if he cannot be found, I am
ready to pay the price in his stead. Do not, however,
harm our women and children. Let me but
see one of my people, and then if the fool is not
given up to you before twenty sleeps, take my life
for his. Or what will be better, kill me now, and
put an end to it.'
De Reinville, himself a half breed Sioux, (9)
told him they had no wish to harm him. But he
must go with them to the English camp, there to
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abide the decision of the British chief. They understood
each other well, for the Ioway tongue
is a dialect of the Sioux.
`Let us set out immediately,' said the ancient.
`But walk slow, for I am very old, and unable to
keep up with your young men.' The intentions
of the officers were not in accordance with this request.
After travelling all day, it will readily be
believed they had no inclination to walk all night
also. They posted a guard, and all, having appeased
their hunger, resigned themselves to sleep.
In the course of the night, the women and children
dropped in, one after another, and great was the
marvelling at the bright bayonets and splendid attire
of the unwelcome visiters.
On its return, when the detachment arrived at
the bluff of the Mississippi, the old man was exhausted
with fatigue. Nevertheless, in order to
cross the river, it was necessary to descend. In
the descent, the octogenary slipped, rolled twenty
feet downward, and was very nigh transfixing himself
on the bayonet of a soldier at the bottom. As
it was, he received a scratch. `If you intend to kill
me,' he cried, `do it now. I can make no resistance.
I am old and weary, and would rather die than walk
another step. I have not long to live, at any rate.'
And to receive the blow he expected with decency,
he drew his blanket over his head, sat down,
and refused to proceed.
With much difficulty he was induced to go on,
but nothing could persuade him that the injury he
had received, was not inflicted intentionally. In
a few minutes, the party arrived at the fort, and
the old savage was quartered in the guard house.
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Indians, when incarcerated, commonly grow fat
and sleek, in spite of fretting and unhappiness.
But this was not the case with the Ioway. Confinement
appeared to weigh upon his spirits. In
less than a week after his arrival, his appetite failed,
his eyes lost their original lustre, and his flesh
began to shrink upon his bones. He seemed to
suffer a complete prostration of body and mind,
and was evidently fast sinking into the grave.
`What does your cap-ee-tan intend to do with
me?' said he, one day to Graham, as the latter
was passing before the door of the guard house.
`Does he wait for me to grow fat, before he kills
and eats me? See,' he continued, holding up his
attenuated arm, `I am not likely to be very good
eating. He had better kill me before it is any
worse.'
`I should think,' replied Graham, `that you
were old enough to speak with more wisdom.
You are an Indian, but not such a fool as to think
that we eat men. You know better.'
`Certainly: I do know better. I did but jest.
Yet it is hard for me, who for eighty winters have
never slept under a white man's roof, to be thus
tied here. I tell you again, I would rather die at
once than remain here three days longer. I ask
you once more what the great Weechashchahtopee
means to do to me.'
`I do not know. If the guilty person is not delivered
into his hands, it is likely that he will put
you to death in his stead.'
`I will tell you, Hohayteedah, (The Hoarse
Voice, Graham's Indian name,) a thought has come
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into my head. If the Weechashchahtopee will let
me out, I will go and kill the dog that has bitten
the chain of friendship asunder. I will bring him
Washtay Wawkeeah's scalp myself.'
`Do you think we are fools or women? If we
should let you go, when should we see you again?'
The countenance of the Indian fell. His eyes,
which the moment before had glistened with the
eagerness of hope, grew dim again. He did not
deign to reply to a suspicion he deemed so unworthy
of him, but turned slowly away, and sitting
down in a dark corner, began to sing his death
song.'
He was, however, affable in his demeanor towards
the soldiers, and others whom fortune had brought
into contact with him. For the men, who regarded
such things as curiosities, he would carve pipe
stems, and for the boys he made bows and arrows.
These little services, and his gentle deportment,
rendered him a favorite in the garrison. The women
made soups for him and gave him clothes;
and the men gave him tobacco, and sometimes a
glass of spirits. `The English are good people,'
he said. `They have pity on the old and miserable.
'
Only once did he show any temper or ill humor.
A soldier, who had shod himself according
to the custom of the country, brought his moccasin
to the Ioway, and desired him to repair it.
`Does he take me for a woman?' said the aged
chief. `I was once esteemed a man among my
people.'
The day after his conversation with Graham, a
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messenger from his son arrived. He informed the
prisoner that Washtay Wawkeeah had fled to the
Missouri, but that the band was resolved to have
him, and had sent several men for that purpose.
`Tell my son,' said the old man, `to make haste,
or I shall be dead before he arrives.'
Some days after, a private was sentenced to be
flogged on the parade. The chief looked out of
the guard house door, and beheld the troops drawn
up in hollow square, with no small admiration.
But when the culprit stripped, and the adjutant
began to count the stripes, he retired into the
apartment, and held his hands before his eyes, as
if to shut out the sight. For some hours he was
unusually melancholy, and in the evening he desired
to see Graham and the commanding officer.
`Tell my father,' said he to the former, `that I
wish to be taken out on the beach, and shot instantly.
' The request was explained to Captain
Bulger, who asked its reason.
`I have lived eighty winters,' said the ancient,
`and no man that wears a hat can say I ever injured
him. On the contrary, I was always a
friend to the whole race. I am so still. I do not
blame my father for being angry at what Washtay
Wawkeeah has done; but I am dying a lingering
death here; and I cannot bear to see men whipped
like dogs. It makes my heart sick, and my
flesh creep. Take me out and shoot me, and so
end my misery.'
Graham told Captain Bulger, that he verily believed
the old man would die broken hearted, if
kept thus closely confined. How to give him any
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more latitude, and yet be sure of his person, was
the question. For this Graham offered to be responsible,
body for body, and Captain Bulger accepted
the pledge. `Listen, old man,' said the
Indian trader. `Your father has concluded to set
you at liberty. Now take notice. All day, and
every day, you may go where you please; but
when the sun sets, you must return to this apartment.
Remember that you are a man and a chief,
and ought not to be afraid to die. If you break
the condition, put on a petticoat, and be called an
old woman ever after.'
Tears streamed down the old man's cheeks.
He put one hand on the head of the officer, and
the other on Graham's, and poured forth a long
prayer and blessing on them. In the morning, he
drew his blanket round him, and left the fort.
In the daytime he would stroll about the village,
then much larger and more important than it is
now. Sometimes he would borrow a gun from
the inhabitants, and shoot ducks about the islands.
At others, he would spear fishes in the river, and
a portion of the spoils of his chase and fishery always
found its way to the tables of Graham and
the captain. But as regularly as the sun went
down, he presented himself at the gate of the fort,
and demanded admission. Being under this restriction
only, his eye brightened, and he recovered
his health and spirits.
At last, the beating of drums, and the protracted
death yell on the opposite side of the river, announced
that the long expected Ioways were at
hand, and that they brought with them the guilty
person. A boat, for the ice was now gone, was
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despatched for them, and they came over, not
without some doubts as to the treatment they were
to receive. Their faces were painted black, and
in addition Washtay Wawkeeah had his arms tied
behind him, with sharp splinters of wood, thrust
through the muscular parts, to prove his contempt
of pain and death. His features were still mild
and gentle. A stranger to the circumstances could
not have believed him the perpetrator of a dreadful
crime, nor that he was about to enact the principal
part of a tragedy.
The other Ioways were hospitably received, and
provisions were given them, while a court martial
was instantly convened to try the criminal. When
asked for his plea, he frankly confessed his
guilt.
`What induced you to kill those men?' asked
the Judge Advocate. `Had either of them done
you any wrong?'
`No,' replied Washtay Wawkeeah, `neither
they, nor any other white man, ever injured me.'
`Was it then for the sake of their gun and blankets,
that you slew them?'
`Not so. I had a better gun than theirs in my
father's lodge. I did not take anything that belonged
to them.'
`Why then did you take away their lives?'
`I was asleep, and had it not been that a wolf
awakened me, they would be alive now. But
having the gun in my hand, the thought crossed
my mind, that I had never killed a man, and that
I could never have a better opportunity. That was
my only reason for what I did.'
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The court was cleared, and without much deliberation
the prisoner was found guilty of the charge
of murder, and of the specifications of time, place,
and circumstance. Captain Bulger approved the
proceedings, and ordered the sentence to be carried
into immediate execution. The prisoner
heard his doom with stoical indifference, and began
to chaunt his death song.
The Ioways were invited to attend the execution,
but they all declined. `It is right,' they said.
`He ought to die. But do not ask us to behold it.
He is one of us.' And they all departed forthwith.
On the beach a grave was dug, a little above
the water's edge, and to it Washtay Wawkeeah
was conducted by ten files, with fixed bayonets.
But no precaution was needed to prevent his
escaping. He would not have turned on his
heel to save his life. He had painted a black
spot on his skin, over his heart, and at this he
requested the execution party to fire. On the
way, he sung in a full, bold tone, and he took his
stand at the head of the grave in which he knew
he was to lie, with infinite composure. At the
report of the muskets, he pitched headlong into it,
and there he slept till the next freshet washed him
away. In two hours from the instant he landed
at Prairie du Chien, the sand was lying six feet
deep over him. After his death, no white man
was killed by an Ioway, till the summer of
1829. (10)
Not long after, a Canadian, called Coursolles,
was killed at the Prairie by a Saque. The case
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was thus. The man had retired to rest, but was
roused by a gentle knocking at the window. He
went to see who was there, when the savage presented
his piece and shot him dead. The Saque
then concealed himself on the island in the river,
opposite the village.
When Captain Bulger learned the place of his
concealment, he sent a party over, which took him,
not without an attempt at resistance. He was tried,
condemned, and shot, in the same prompt manner
that Washtay Wawkeeah had been before him.
This is the true way to live in peace with Indians.
An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,
is their own law, and with them, punishment follows
crime closely. The civil law of the United
States they cannot be made to understand. Under
our government, when an Indian has been guilty
of murder, he has been kept in prison months, nay,
in some instances, years, and carried for trial a
thousand miles from the place where the offence
was committed, where no evidence could be procured.
This would be of little consequence, if he
were left to himself, for then he would certainly
plead guilty; but the civil law assigns him a counsellor,
who advises him to deny the crime, and as
no evidence appears against him, he is consequently
discharged. It is believed, that in nine cases
out of ten, where American citizens have been
killed by Indians, the murderers have escaped in
this manner.
A few years since, an Indian, guilty of a capital
crime, committed on the upper lakes, could only
be tried at Detroit. One who had done the like
-- 020 --
[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]
on the upper Mississippi, or its branches, must have
been sent to St Louis for trial. Thus by removing
him out of the reach of evidence, the ends of
justice were inevitably frustrated. And the case
is little better at the present day.
The evils attendant on this system were, principally,
these. First, the Indians attribute an acquittal,
under such circumstances, to fear on the
part of the American people. They perfectly understand
that a homicide ought to suffer death, but
they cannot comprehend how his conviction is rendered
so difficult, and they consequently despise
us, and think they may take our lives with impunity.
Secondly, confinement irritates the person
who suffers and the tribe to which he belongs.
That an Indian seldom remains long in prison before
he asks to be put to death outright, like the
Ioway chief in our story, proves this fact. His
detention keeps his friends in constant suspense
and anxiety too. They say that they prefer to
have their relatives killed. To conclude, the
French and English always tried them by law martial,
and were in consequence much more esteemed
by them than the Americans are.
-- --
THE HOHAYS.
`I will have my revenge. I will have it if I die the moment after.
What shall stay me? It is the law, and who shall say me nay?
Wherefore, bring them forth; for I have bound it on my soul that they
shall both die.'
Spanish Curate.
[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]
Some years ago there lived in the plains between
the Missouri and the Saskatchawayn a
young Indian, who at the termination of his nonage
received from his tribe the appellation of
Weeteeko, or the Fool. This name was conferred
on him, not that he was weak in intellect,
but on account of his notorious inability to command
his passions; that being in the opinion of
the Dahcotahs the very worst kind of folly. He
was irritable, suspicious, and jealous, and unable to
conceal it. His tongue gave vent to whatever
came uppermost in his mind, to his own great
prejudice, for it kept him in a constant broil.
Nevertheless one circumstance gave him a
certain degree of consequence. Consanguinity,
according to the Indians, extends much farther,
and its obligations are of greater force than in
civilized nations. A cousin, with them, is as near
-- 022 --
[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]
as a brother, and a man may not without incurring
great shame marry a woman in the most remote
degree allied to him by blood. Weeteeko belonged
to a great family. Many noted braves and men of
influence counted kin with him.
He fixed his affection on Khotah Way (The
Grey Woman) and obtained her in marriage.
Never before nor since was a poor squaw fated to
undergo such misery. If she spoke to a man,
she sustained his reproaches, and not seldom his
blows. If his moccasins were not ornamented,
his lodge (1) not pitched, or his horse not tended
to his liking, he raved and scolded, whereby his
family as well as hers were terribly scandalized.
His provoking jealousy at last drove her to what
she would not otherwise have thought of. She
engaged in an intrigue with Nahpay Tunkah
(The Big Hand) a young man whose connections
were as numerous as those of her husband. The
affair became the common talk of the whole
band long before the person most interested was
aware of it, as no one liked him well enough to
inform him.
But at length riding one day to the buffalo
hunt, as he was vaunting the excellence of the
animal he bestrode, and the carnage he intended
to make by its help, another young man who
cantered by his side smiled significantly and said,
`kill as many cows as you will Weeteeko, you
had still much better have staid in your lodge.'
`And why so?'
`Why so! There is a cow there that Nahpay
-- 023 --
[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]
Tunkah loves to approach. (2) O, he has a good
head. He was sick you know this morning.'
His suspicions now wide awake, Weeteeko
asked question after question, which the other,
enjoying his uneasiness, answered in a strain of
banter admirably calculated to increase the confusion
of the querist. He declared that on his
return he would cut off his wife's nose (3) and slay
her lover. Had he observed the usual Indian
maxims of prudence he might have effected his
intended revenge. But not curbing his tongue
the brother of Nahpay Tunkah, who rode close
behind, overheard him. He separated from the
cavalcade the first opportunity and galloped back
to the camp. He found the pair in close confabulation.
`Fly,' he said to Khotah Way, `if
you value your nose. And you, fool, if you are
not tired of your life, fly with her.' Few words
served to explain the danger. Nahpay Tunkah
resolved to escape with the woman to the next
camp of his relatives, and there wait till the anger
of Weeteeko should blow over or be appeased
with gifts. In a few minutes he was on the
way accompanied by his brother.
When Weeteeko returned he found the birds
flown. His passion was beyond all bounds and
his speech was of blood and cruelty. He declared
that he would follow the dog that had bitten
him and take such vengeance as never was
heard of. In the mean while he ran to the lodge
of the father of Nahpay Tunkah and cut it in
pieces with his knife, while the family (4) of the
absentee smoked their pipes within with as little
-- 024 --
[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]
concern as if nothing had happened. The enraged
savage then let fly two arrows at as many
dogs belonging to the lodge and relieved his
choler with harsh and abusive speech, but nothing
could disturb the serenity of the inmates.
When he was gone one of the elders coolly remarked
that Nahpay Tunkah was a fool for doing
as he had, but not so great a fool as Weeteeko
either. It was then resolved that the family of the
absentee should follow him to prevent further
mischief.
Before daybreak the next morning, Weeteeko
was off in pursuit. A good horse, which he did
not spare, soon brought him in sight of the camp
where Khotah Way and her lover had taken refuge.
Luckily for them, he was seen afar off. At the
cry of `a man on horseback!' they guessed who it
must be. The guilty wife fled into the heart of
the wood, and concealed herself behind the trunk
of a fallen tree. At the solicitation of his friends,
Nahpay Tunkah followed her with his bow and
arrows.
In a few minutes Weeteeko was in the camp.
He sprung from his horse which was almost spent
with fatigue, and ranged furiously among the lodges,
calling on his enemy, if he was a man, to show
himself. As he found his summons disregarded,
he rent the air with reproaches, calling Nahpay
Tunkah dog, coward, old woman, and even winktah,
the last of insults to a Dahcotah.(5) Enraged
that he did not appear, Weeteeko entered all the
lodges successively, overturning the piles of buffalo
robes, and searching every corner that might
-- 025 --
[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]
have concealed a man. Finding his quest vain,
he at last stood still, leaning on his bent bow, and
casting fearfully ferocious glances around him.
`What ails you, Weeteeko?' asked an uncle
of the person he sought. `What mean these
cries, and whom are you seeking?'
`As if you did not know,' replied the other.
`You have no need to be told that your dog of a
nephew has carried away my woman; whose nose
I will cut off before this snow melts away.'
`And if he has,' returned the senior, `are you
not ashamed to raise such a clamor about a poor
silly woman? You cry after her as if you were
an infant and she your mother. You have lost
your wife, but what of that? Such things often
happen. There are plenty more women left alive.
I dare to say you may get another without leaving
this camp. Come, enter my tent, and eat and
smoke.'
`I care not for the woman,' rejoined Weeteeko,
somewhat abashed at this rebuke. `I care not
for this, nor any other woman. But I am not a
woman neither, and I will not be laughed at. Your
nephew has done well to hide himself.'
`He has acted more wisely in running away
than you have in following him. Yet if he has
done as you say, let him keep the woman, and I
will give you six horses, and twenty painted robes,
and ten strings of wampum.'
`No, I do not want your horses; I can steal
enough myself. I have wampum and robes of my
own. I came here to kill a dog, and I will kill
one before I depart.'
-- 026 --
[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]
`If you do seek a dog, you see it is not here
you ought to look. You have taken the wrong
track.'
At the last word a light seemed to break on the
mind of the hot headed youth. His eyes sparkled,
his nostrils expanded, and giving a shout of triumph
he rushed out of the camp. Taking a wide circuit
round the lodges, he examined every diverging
foot print. At last he came to the tracks of
the objects of his resentment, and recognised them
at once. With a yell of delight he followed them
up, at a pace that promised soon to overtake them.
He had not, indeed, far to go, but in his blind
fury he neglected the ordinary Indian precautions
in approaching an enemy.
Nahpay Tunkah heard his cry, and saw him
coming, and so did Khotah Way. She clung
trembling to her lover, and besought him not to
abandon her to the rage of her husband. Had he
been disposed so to do he knew it would be in
vain, for Weeteeko was wonderfully swift of foot.
He told her to fear nothing, and bent his bow very
calmly. Stepping behind a tree he fitted an arrow
to the string, and awaited the approach of his
inveterate pursuer. He remained motionless till
Weeteeko was within ten yards of him. Then he
drew the shaft to the head and discharged it with
unerring aim. The point entered his adversary's
eye and passed out over his ear, shattering the
skull in a dreadful manner. The wood was splintered
by the force of the blow. The homicide
gave the usual crie de joie for the death of an enemy,
and called on his companion to behold his
-- 027 --
[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]
work. But in a revulsion of feeling she threw
herself upon the bleeding corpse, and made the
wood resound with her lamentations.
Roused at length by his reproaches and expostulations,
she arose, and they wended their way,
sad and fearful, to the camp. The youth called
his kinsmen about him, and told them what he
had done, at the same time declaring his resolution
to give himself up quietly to the avengers of
blood. They lamented for what had happened,
but decided unanimously that Weeteeko had `died
as a fool dieth,' in the manner best befitting his
name. He had refused all mediation and advice,
and though he had certainly a right to do as he
pleased with his delinquent wife, he ought to have
been satisfied with the gifts offered to mollify his
resentment. Nahpay Tunkah had killed him in
self defence, and having paid the price of blood,
was to be held guiltless. If the relations of the
deceased should not acquiesce in these opinions,
he ought not to be delivered into their hands, but
on the contrary, defended to the last extremity.
This decision was perhaps a little influenced by a
strong jealousy that existed between the two families.
The body of Weeteeko was brought to the
camp with much solemnity. A medicine dance
took place, (6) after which it was consigned to the
earth with all proper rites and marks of honor.
The men afflicted their flesh as if it had been one
of their relatives, and the women mourned as for
a brother. Not the least vehement in these demonstrations
of grief were the two persons by
-- 028 --
[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]
whose misconduct the misfortune had come to
pass; and it is probable the fear of punishment did
not mitigate their sorrow. All things fitting for
the use of a hunter and warrior in the other world
were buried with Weeteeko, and his own horse
was sacrificed on the grave.
To be in readiness for whatever might befall,
runners were sent in every direction to summon
the connections of the family. And as intelligence
spreads nowhere faster than among Indians, ere
three days the father of Weeteeko was apprised of
what had taken place. The unfortunate youth
had come honestly by his violent disposition, having
inherited it from his parent, who now resolved
to go straightway in quest of his son's murderer,
and slay him with his own hand. Not dreaming
that any opposition would be made to the observance
of the unwritten law of the Dahcotahs, he
set off, attended by his two brothers only. He
reached the camp, and was invited into the soldier's
lodge(7) to rest and refresh himself; but he
declined the courtesy. In a loud speech he set
forth his grievances. The wife of his only son
had been clandestinely carried off; but it was not
for a thing so trifling as the loss of a woman that
he sought vengeance. Such an occurrence was
beneath the notice of a man. His son, had he
lived, could have found as many wives as he
pleased. There were very many Dahcotahs who
would have been glad to give their daughters to so
good a hunter. But his son had been slain while
seeking to recover what was his by just right, by
the very man who had injured him. The rites of
-- 029 --
[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]
hospitality and the usages of the nation had been
violated. Weeteeko had indeed behaved foolishly,
and like a very young man as he was, but he
was now dead. Therefore he demanded that the
offender should be bound and delivered into his
hands, to suffer the penalty of murder.
The old man spoke in a strain of angry eloquence,
his eyes flashing, and every muscle quivering
with emotion. We give the substance of
his discourse, but the manner in which it was delivered
we are unable to convey. He was heard
with attention and respect. When he admitted
that his son had acted like a fool, he was honored
with the customary grunt of applause; but when he
demanded the surrender of the homicide, that token
of assent was withheld. The father of Nahpay
Tunkah spoke in reply.
He, he said, who treated his wife like a dog,
could not expect to be loved by her. So had
Weeteeko done by Khotah Way; and in such
circumstances it was but natural that she should
turn to some other man for solace and consolation,
and it was no matter of wonder if her regard had
been reciprocated by Nahpay Tunkah, who was
himself a very young man. He had, however,
acted like a fool to take the life of another, when
there were so many girls whom he might have
obtained. Yet he had done what might be justified
in killing Weeteeko. If that youth had been
satisfied to use his right to recover and punish his
wife, the case would have been different; though
even then, he would have been in the wrong to
have put her to death. Juvenile follies should
-- 030 --
[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]
not be visited with so much rigor. But he had
insisted not only on killing her, but her paramour
also, contrary to the custom of the Dahcotahs,
from time immemorial. It never had been their
practice to put an adulterer to death, unless in the
first heat of passion. Weeteeko had had time to
reflect, and had been offered a magnificent compensation
for the injury he had sustained. He
had refused to accept it, and would be content
with nothing less than the blood of the offending
party, and therefore Nahpay Tunkah was right to
kill him in self defence. But to avoid dissension
the speaker was willing to pay the price of blood,
and he besought the bereaved parent to take all
the family possessed, and suffer his anger to sleep.
And to this harangue the women added their
cries of `spare my son! spare my brother!'
Instead of becoming pacified, the old man was
violently enraged. In the plenitude of his displeasure
he bestowed on them all manner of
abuse and opprobrious epithets, and asked if they
thought he valued all the horses in existence as
highly as his son. Weeteeko had been slain, and
say what they might, he would have vengeance.
They now resorted to the last deprecatory
measure. A child, the prettiest in the camp, and
dressed in the finest attire they could procure
came out of a lodge, leading Nahpay Tunkah by
the hand. Coming before the senior, the culprit
stood still, and the child lisped a prayer for mercy.
(7) At the sight of the destroyer of his son
the old man fixed an arrow to his bow, but refrained
from discharging it for fear of hurting the
-- 031 --
[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]
infant. At the demand of forgiveness, coming as
it did from the lips of childhood, he for a moment
relented; but his anger suddenly reviving, he
would have transfixed Nahpay Tunkah on the spot
had not his arm been withheld by one who stood
behind him. His brother, seeing his purpose thus
prevented, levelled the person who had interfered
with an arrow. This was the signal for the death
of the three visiters. They fell covered with
wounds, and a cry of exultation arose over them.
The bodies of the unfortunate father and uncles
of Weeteeko were not treated with disrespect,
nor were their scalps taken. They were
laid in their kindred dust with tears and lamentations,
and those by whose hands they fell looked
sorrowfully at each other, and asked, `what will
sorrowfully at each other, and asked, `what will
be the end of this?'
Many of the friends of the party had now arrived,
and after a long fast, it was resolved in
council, that as they might expect a visit from the
relatives of the slain, and as they had provisions
enough to stand a siege, they would construct a
fortification in the best manner they were able,
and wait the result. About two arrow flights
from the wood were two small hills, one a little in
advance of the other. On the tops of these they
made two enclosures with logs and brushwood.
Within these they dug holes large enough to lie
in, and at the same time use their weapons. A
store of hay was cut for the horses by the women,
and they all removed into these defences.
A watch, too, was set on the highest ground in the
vicinity.
-- 032 --
[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
The third day after, the sentinel discerned in
the extreme verge of the horizon, a dark object,
which he soon ascertained to be a large body of
horsemen. The men repaired to their posts, and
the women and children took shelter in the enclosures.
Had the advancing party been aware that
a hostile visit was expected, and that measures
had been taken to repel it, they would have come
under cover of the night; but, in fact, the friends
of Weeteeko had intended to enter the camp with
protestations of friendship, and to exterminate the
obnoxious faction by surprise. When, however,
they came near enough to see the preparations
for their reception, they yelled with rage, and
were promptly answered with shouts of defiance
from the intrenched party. They then dismounted
and consulted, when they scattered and
each strung his bow.
The defendants were something over an hundred,
and the assailants three times as many.
Yet the difference in position more than compensated
for the advantage in numbers. With the
usual reluctance of Indians to attack fortified
places, the besiegers advanced singly, skipping
and dancing about, to avoid the aim of those
within. Arrows were exchanged as occasion offered,
but excepting that some of the horses in
the forts, if forts they may be called, were wounded,
no damage was done. So little danger was
there in this way of fighting, that their grotesque
gestures and barbarous cries might have been
taken by a spectator for a game played for
amusement.
-- 033 --
[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]
At last a young man who had never before
been in action, and who burned to gain a reputation,
cried that his name was Wawkeean Woheteeka,
(the Terrible Thunder) and that he would
strike on the enemy, cost what it might. Dropping
his bow and quiver, he flourished his war
club, and running at the top of his speed to the
nearest baricado, struck upon it, regardless of the
shower of shafts that was aimed at him. A shrill,
sharp cry announced that he had effected his
purpose, and he turned and fled with the same
speed at which he had advanced, bearing away
three arrows sticking in him. If he had been
killed it would have been an advantage to his
party, for then they would probably have been
discouraged by his death, and would have left the
ground. But at short intervals several more, encouraged
by his success, tried the same experiment,
and not one of them came off with the like
impunity. Seven of them laid stretched lifeless
on the ground before the breastwork, and the besieged
cried to the others to come on and share
the same fate.(8)
Their ardor much abated by these losses, for
Indians count every man killed, the assailants
drew off to a safe distance, and it was resolved to
blockade the fortifications and starve the inmates
out. The idea of storming never entered their
heads, and we leave it to our readers to reconcile
this excess of caution with the desperate valor,
sometimes displayed by Indians. These men,
each of whom would, without the least hesitation,
have thrown away his life on the slightest
-- 034 --
[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
imputation of cowardice, or met a cruel death with unshaken
constancy, could not conceive the idea of
giving battle on fair and equal terms. If they
had now been engaged with Chippeways, or any
other tribe distinct from themselves, it is most
likely they would have abandoned the enterprise
as hopeless; but the strong excitement of the occasion
urged them to leave nothing untried for
vengeance.
They surrounded the position of the enemy,
and excepting that now and then some one would
advance, discharge an arrow, and receive one in
return, nothing material occurred for three days.
At length, weary of the length of the siege, they
resolved that if the besieged were not obliged by
hunger to abandon their cover by the morrow,
they would break up the leaguer and return.
Hunger was no part of the evil to which the
adherents of Nahpay Tunkah were subjected.
They had enough dried buffaloes' flesh to have
lasted a month. Enough hay, too, had been cut
for the horses up to the present time; but now it
gave out. But they were obliged to eat their
meat raw, and were cut off from wood and water.
Their thirst they might assuage with snow; but
the cold they were obliged to endure; and it was
no small hardship at that season. The old men
voted to remain where they were till the patience
of the enemy should be exhausted; but the
younger, and by far the greater number, gave
heir voices for departure. The women seconded
them unanimously; and their complaints and
scolding prevailed over the better judgment of the
-- 035 --
[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
elders. That very night then, was fixed on for
their escape.
It was dark and favorable to their plans.
Twenty of the most active sallied from the enclosures,
and crawling on the bare spots of earth,
that their dark forms might not be betrayed by
contrast with the snow, succeeded in passing the
enemies' line. Making a circuit round the wood
they approached the scene of operations in the
rear of the besiegers. It is well known what
command Indians have of their voices, and our
party exerted it to the utmost in the furious attack
they now made on the enemy. They
changed their tones at every cry, and called to
each other by the names of their relations who
were known to have been far away when the
siege commenced. The adverse party was completely
deceived; and believing the attack proceeded
from a new band of the friends of Nahpay
Tunkah, their whole force assembled in the edge
of the wood. The darkness, and the cover of the
trees prevented any great injury being done on
either side; but while this was going on, those
for whose benefit the stratagem was intended,
stole out of their fortification, with their horses,
wives and children. All were admonished to be
silent, and the infants were hindered from crying
by stuffing pieces of buffalo hide into their
mouths. When fairly out of hearing, they exerted
their speed till they reached the place appointed
for a rendezvous with their detatchment
engaged.
These last, when sufficient time had elapsed for
-- 036 --
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
the fulfilment of their object, slackened their efforts,
gradually withdrew from the scene of strife,
and hastened to join their companions. When
the two parties reunited, they made all speed toward
a large encampment, which they reckoned
upon reaching, by dint of hard travelling, before
the next night; and one was sent forward on the
fleetest horse they had, to require their friends to
come and assist them, in case they should be
overtaken.
The darkness for some time prevented the besiegers
from discovering the trick that had been
put upon them; and when they did find it out,
they could not see which way the enemy was
gone. Notwithstanding their anger, they were
compelled to wait till dawn before they could
discern the traces of the retreat. Yet they vented
their wrath in some degree upon the goods
and chattels the fugitives had left behind. When
day at last broke, they mounted and made haste
to pursue.
About noon they overtook the enemy, and attacked
with greater advantage than before. Then
were heard the cries of hate and wrath, of triumph
and defiance; the screams of women and children,
and the groans of the wounded; the wounded
females we mean, for the men died like
wolves, fighting to the last gasp without noise or
complaint. The warriors placed their wives and
infants in the centre, and kept the foe off by strenuous
exertion and hard riding, such exertion as
Indians only are capable of, when roused from
their habitual apathy. Still they retreated.
-- 037 --
[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
Nahpay Tunkah was the first man who fell. It so
chanced that the woman who had been the cause
of all this evil received an arrow in her neck and
fell from her horse. Though not mortally hurt,
the cavalcade could not stop for her. She called
on her paramour for aid, and in spite of the remonstrances
of his friends, he was obedient to her
voice. His brethren in arms saw him die; his
life blood flowing from twenty wounds. Deeds
of valor were done, worthy to be recorded in better
language than our own. The weaker side
had the worse. The arrow, the spear, and the
war club, made fearful havoc among them.
Twentyseven of their best men had fallen; most
of the survivors were wounded, and their horses
were thoroughly jaded, when a band appeared
coming at full speed to their relief. It was the
party which their messenger had apprised of their
peril, and it arrived just in time to prevent their
total extermination. On its appearance, the
avengers of the family of Weeteeko desisted from
the work of death, and rode away to avoid coming
to blows with fresh warriors. They were
not pursued. The sufferers pursued their way
and entered the camp in company with those
who had come to their rescue.
This blow was felt by the whole tribe. Scarcely
an individual in it but was in some degree
connected with the slain, on one side or the
other. Fasting, mourning, and medicine dances
became the order of the day. When these observances
ceased a war party of the friends and
relations of Naphay Tunkah and Khotah Way
-- 038 --
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
assembled to revenge the injury their families had
sustained. And they amply retaliated on the adverse
division of the nation. The feud was not
to be staunched. Wrong succeeded to wrong,
and battle to battle. Gradually the whole Dahcotah
people took part in the strife, and finally,
those who had espoused the cause of the Siou
Helen were worsted. Then leaving their former
hunting grounds, they roamed the prairies between
the Missouri and the Saskatchawayn, and so they
continue to do to this day. They are called by
the legitimate Dahcotahs, Hohays, but are better
known by the title of Assinneboins. They are the
most primitive Indians we have seen in our
travels and excursions. The war begun as above
related continued till eighteen hundred twenty,
when a peace was made between the belligerents.
The Hohays are seldom seen without arms in
their hands, whether in peace or war. They are
desperate robbers and expert horse thieves, and
keep no measures with any people of whom they
are not in fear. They have little intercourse with
the whites, and they still retain their ancient manners;
using the same saddles, earthen pots, dress,
and implements of war, as of old. Heaven grant
that none of our readers may ever come in contact
with them.
-- --
THE DEVOTED.
Life has no joys for me. For me the streams,
The clear, sweet waters of my native woods
Are streams of bitterness. The glorious sun
Shines on my path in vain, since he, my boy,
My brave, my best beloved, my first born,
Was torn from these old arms. I'll reckless rush
Upon the foemen's ranks; and with this blade
Will dig my own red grave.
Unpublished Play.
[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
In the year eighteen hundred and nineteen, or
twenty, two soldiers belonging to the sixth regiment
of United States' Infantry, then stationed at
Council Bluffs, were shot by two Dahcotahs of the
Susseton band. No provocation was given by the
sufferers; at least none was alleged by the perpetrators
of the crime. They were induced to do
the deed by one of those unaccountable impulses
that so often actuate Indians.
The Sussetons, or `People who end by Curing,'
inhabit the country on the St Peter's River.
They dress in cloth and blankets. Their original
vesture and implements have given place to articles
manufactured by the whites, so that they are
-- 040 --
[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]
in a great measure dependent on the traders for
the necessaries of life. An embargo on the Indian
trade is therefore the greatest evil that can be inflicted
on them.
In order to compel the surrender of the offenders,
the Colonel commanding the post at the mouth
of the St Peters stopped the trading boats. Notice
was duly given to the Sussetons that an absolute
non-intercourse would be enforced till the
persons demanded should be given up to justice.
The good policy that dictated the measure was
soon apparent. No Indian on the St Peters could
shoot a duck, or catch a muskrat. The bow and
arrow, weapons long out of use, were put in requisition,
but to little purpose. The game taken
by their means was insufficient for the support of
life. As no knives could be had, if a deer was
killed it was flayed with a flint or a clam shell.
Tired of enduring such privations the Sussetons
took measures to terminate them.
A large camp was convened at Munday Ean
Tonkinkee, or The Big Stone Lake. A solemn
council was held on the green sward, to devise
means to avert the consequences of the folly of
their `young men.'
`I am willing,' said Mahzah Khotah, (The Grey
Iron,) one of the criminals, `to give my life to the
Big Knives, as a reparation for that I have taken.
They will put me to death. What then? I am
a man. Better that one should suffer than many.
I have been a fool, but now I will act with wisdom.
'
The gutteral ejaculation peculiar to an Indian
-- 041 --
[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]
council put the stamp of approbation to these generous
sentiments. But one of the assembled elders
did not join in the general applause. It was Ahkitcheetah
Dootah, (The Red Soldier,) the father
of the speaker. His head drooped, and he hid
his face in his hands.
`I too,' said the other person implicated, `will
go to the chief of the Big Knives. I will throw
away my body also.'
`Not so my son,' cried an old Susseton. `You
are my only boy, and how will your mother, and
your sisters, and your wife, and your children eat, if
you should die? I have long been unable to hunt.
I am old and useless. Life for life is all the Big
Knives can ask. They shall have mine. Come,
young men, let us start immediately.
This reasoning appeared conclusive to the assembly.
Two men were to die and it seemed to
the Sussetons immaterial which. The son himself
made no opposition. The next day after
leaving some worn out clothing and a quantity of
tobacco on a rock, as a tribute to the Great Spirit,
Mahzah Khotah and his intended fellow sufferer
started for Fort Snelling, attended by a numerous
retinue of friends and relatives. (1)
Arrived within a mile of the fort, the party halted,
smoked, and sung a prayer, in a subdued and
monotonous tone. If Handel could have heard, it
is probable he would not have wished ever to hear
a Dahcotah concert again. Then they smutted
their faces anew, and wounded their arms with
knives. The prisoners' elbows were secured with
ropes of braided buffalo's hair, and great oaken
-- 042 --
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
skewers were thrust through their flesh. This unnecessary
pain they bore without blenching in the
least. The prisoners began to sing, and in this
fashion the whole party advanced to the walls of
the fort. A company was drawn up under arms,
and the commanding officer came out to receive
them.
The elders and warriors sat down in a circle on
the ground, with the prisoners in the midst. The
American officer was desired to take his place
with them, and then the peace pipe was produced
and smoked round the circle from left to right, or
with the sun, as the Indians express it. This ceremony
ended the elder of the prisoners rose and
spoke.
`A cloud,' he said, `has come between us and
our father. We hope the beams of this day's sun
will drive it away. Our hearts are sad that the
chain of friendship has been broken. We wish to
mend it. Two foolish young men have acted according
to their folly, and the Master of Life (2)
is angry about it. One of them was my son. I
am here to suffer for him. We throw away the
other also. Have pity on us father, for we are
onsheekah. (pitiable.) Our women and children
are starving. We have come a long distance
to see you, and the path was overgrown with
weeds. Father, take pity on us, and let the road
between your people and ours be cleared.'
The pipe of peace was accepted. The prisoners
were taken into custody, and the other Sussetons
dismissed. Colonel Snelling wrote to Washington
for instructions, but it was long before he
-- 043 --
[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
received them. At that time, the facilities of communication
were not so great as at present. It
was not then known that the Mississippi was navigable
for steamboats to the falls of St Anthony,
and mail stages did not then run between Peoria
and the Lead Mines. The breath of civilization
has at length blown away all obstacles. Steam
has conquered the Father of Waters, to the astonishment
of the savages and the terror of the cat-fishes.
Keelboats and their concomitant `Salt
River Roarers,' are seen no more. So much for
the tide of emigration.
When the instructions did arrive, they directed
that the old Susseton should be set at liberty, and
that the young one should forthwith be sent to St
Louis, there to be prosecuted by the United States'
attorney, and dealt with as the law directs. So
was the proverbial wisdom of our government in
the management of Indian affairs exemplified!
Mahzah Khotah was put on board a boat and
conveyed to the capital of Missouri as fast as three
pairs of oars and a current of two miles an hour
could carry him. When he was brought before
the court on whose verdict his fate was to depend,
his counsel advised him to retract his confession.
There was no doubt of his guilt, for he had avowed
it again and again at St Peters. Here, however,
he pleaded not guilty, and as no witness appeared
against him he was acquitted and discharged.
In a few days he left the city and began his
journey across the prairies, directing his course to
the Teton villages on the Missouri. Probably,
these were his reflections: `I have killed an
-- 044 --
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
American, and gained the name of a warrior. The
Big Knives have not dared to revenge it, and I
will therefore slay another the first opportunity.'
Whether these were his thoughts or not, it is certain
such were the common opinions of the more
remote Indians before they were acquainted with
the power of the whites; and this belief still prevails
in many tribes.
But in an evil hour for Mahzah Khotah, he
encountered with John Moredock, called from his
inextinguishable hatred to the Aborigines, the Indian
Hater. This man came into Illinois when the
descendants of the French emigrants were its only
inhabitants. The fourth husband of his mother
had died like her three former spouses, being killed
by the Indians. Yet this woman, who seemed
a mark for the shafts of border warfare, left Vincennes
in order to settle in Illinois with her children.
As she was ascending the Mississippi she
and the whole party with which she travelled were
surprised and butchered by the savages. Of all
her family John Moredoch only escaped, he having
voyaged in other company. From the day he
heard of this calamity, revenge on those who had
destroyed his kindred became his ruling passion.
The Indians who had been active in their extermination
did not escape him. By unremitting pursuit,
he achieved the destruction of every individual
of them. His vengeance did not sleep here.
Though irreproachable in his dealings with his fellows,
and though he afterwards obtained a seat in
the legislature of Illinois, and the rank of colonel of
militia, he never let slip an opportunity to dip his
-- 045 --
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
hands in Indian blood. He was famous as a hunter
and partizan warrior, and in the course of his
life was said to have killed thirteen Indians with
his own hand, and it is probable the truth rather
exceeds than falls short of report.
He had been at Chariton on business, when he
met Mahzah Khotah; both being on foot and alone.
His rifle was in his hand. At the sight of the savage,
his eyes flashed fire and his face grew black with
passion. He `sot his triggers,' but the time required
for this operation enabled Mahzah Khotah to
get behind a tree. He too was armed with a gun,
given him by the Indian agent at St Louis. Moredock
gained a similar cover. There they stood,
watching each other as the gladiator and the lion
might do in the arena. Neither could raise his
weapon, or take a more than momentary look,
without exposing himself to certain death. But
the fertile brain of Moredock suggested an expedient.
He drew his ramrod, put his cap on the end
of it, and protruded it from his cover at the height
of his head. The Indian very naturally supposed
that his head was in it. The lightning is not
quicker than was the flash of his gun. The Indian
Hater fell, and Mahzah Khotah, drawing his knife,
rushed forward to take his scalp. But the white
man was instantly on his feet again. `Where are
you going with your knife?' said he, with a fiendish
laugh. He fired, and the Dahcotah dropped.
`That counts one more,' said Moredock, as he
turned from the bleeding corpse to pursue his
journey.
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
From the time his son was surrendered to the
American officer at St Peters, Ahkitchetah Dootah
pitched his tent in the vicinity of the garrison. He
visited his offspring daily, wept over him, and asked
many questions relative to his probable fate. When
Mahzah Khotah was removed to St Louis, the old
man lost hope. He became listless and inactive.
He was no more seen spearing fishes in the river,
nor did the echoes of his gun disturb the silence of
the surrounding hills. To a white man, such a
course would promise a speedy release from sorrow
by starvation; but it was no great disadvantage
to Ahkitchetah Dootah. Among Indians, the
indolent share the provision made by the industrious,
and a refusal to give food or clothes, is a thing
unheard of. This very generosity is the great bar
to their improvement. Where the `social system'
prevails to its fullest extent, as with the Dahcotahs,
it is not to be expected that any individual will exert
himself more than is necessary to meet the wants
of the hour. It is no benefit to a squaw to plant a
cornfield, for the harvest must be reaped by hands
that did not sow. It is useless for a hunter to kill
more venison than is needed for the immediate
consumption of his family, as the greater part will
be eaten by those who have been smoking by the
fireside, while he has been freezing his fingers and
wearying his limbs in the chase. The obstacles
to the civilization of the Aborigines are indeed
many; but in the opinion of one who has had
many opportunities for observation, this is the greatest.
But, dear reader, we find we have been
-- 047 --
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
betrayed into a digression, and if it pleases thee we
will return to our story.
Ahkitchetah Dootah continued his visits to the
fort, and at last learned that his son had been tried.
It was in vain to tell him that Mahzah Khotah had
been acquitted and set at liberty, for no process of
reasoning could make him believe it. `He has
been put to death,' he would answer to those who
endeavored to convince him that his son might yet
return. `He has been killed, and you are afraid
to acknowledge it. You think we might revenge
him. But I will not long survive my boy.' Accordingly,
he made a feast, at which he appeared
as naked as he was born. No one spoke, for savages
as the guests were, they respected the intensity
of his grief. When the dog was devoured,
and its bones burned in the fire, (3) he broke silence.
He recapitulated the circumstances of his
case and declared his belief as above stated. His
auditors heartily concurred in it, for the way in
which Mahzah Khotah had come to his end was
unknown to the whites, and therefore could not be
communicated to the Dahcotahs. In the same
faith they remain to this day, and nothing can persuade
them to the contrary.
`I have certainly,' said the old man, `committed
some heinous offence against the Master of Breath.
I do not know in what it consists, but it is certain
that his hand is laid heavily on me. He is angry,
and it is useless to live any longer. I am alone of
my race. I am onsheekah. I will throw away my
body the first opportunity.' (4) And his discourse
was applauded by all present.
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
He immediately removed, and pitched his lodge
on the extreme verge of the Chippeway territory,
where he was most likely to be visited by the enemy.
But having thus devoted himself to destruction,
he seemed to bear a charmed life. He could
find no hand charitable enough to terminate his
miserable existence. He twice joined the war
parties of his people, but in neither instance did
they find an enemy with whom to combat.
At last, in the year eighteen hundred and twentythree,
he joined a party of twenty of his tribe, which
was going to the red pipe stone quarry. It has
been said that this is holy ground, and that the savages
forget their hostility there. But this is sheer
fiction. No war parties have ever met at the
quarry, and therefore no battle has ever taken
place in its vicinity.
The companions of Ahkitchetah Dootah took
as much of the stone as they needed, and then left
the place. We will not follow them till we have
attempted a description of the spot.
The country on each side of the river is a bare
prairie, in which the eye seeks in vain for a tree or
a shrub. The only objects perceptible are the
countless herds of buffaloes, and their constant attendants
the wolves. These last accompany them,
patiently waiting till one of them `takes a hurt from
the hunter's hand,' or falls exhausted by sickness
or old age. Then they hurry to the feast. Through
this vast plain the river runs, in a thousand crooks
and windings, its banks thinly skirted with trees
and shrubs. At the quarry the pipe stone is found
imbedded between strata of lime stone. It is red
-- 049 --
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
and friable, a kind of serpentine, easily cut with a
knife when first taken from the earth, though it
grows harder by exposure to the air. Asbestos is
also found in the quarry. Here the bluff rises perpendicularly
from the river, and directly in its front
stands an isolated portion, rent from the parent
cliff by some convulsion of nature. It is about
twelve feet from the bluff, and the younger and
more active Dahcotahs use to try their nerves by
jumping upon it across the awful chasm below.
On the present occasion our friends wasted no
time in such feats, or in contemplating the scenery.
A trail had been found, which their sagacity discovered
to have been made by the feet of Saques
and Foxes, and it behoved them to make off with
all convenient alacrity, for no people better understood
that discretion is the better part of valor,
than Indians. They travelled swiftly for two days,
till they came to the north branch of the river
Terre Bleue, where they halted and pitched their
lodges. Ahkitcheetah Dootah indeed, remonstrated
against such unseemly haste, but as the
others were not so weary of life as he, his words
were unheeded. Yet he followed a good distance
in the rear, to give the Saques and Foxes an opportunity
to take his scalp.
The Dahcotahs had gained their halting place
unmolested, but not unobserved. The Saques and
Foxes had seen them, but though trebly superior
in number, they resolved to attack with as little
risk as might be to themselves. They followed at
a wary distance taking good care to keep out of
sight. They were better armed too, than the
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
Sioux, for their proximity to the whites enables
them to procure weapons at pleasure. They had
each a good rifle, whereas half their opponents
had nothing but bows and arrows.
At daybreak the next morning, the usual time
for Indian attacks, they approached the Siou camp,
taking advantage of the trees and of the inequalities
of the ground. When near enough they
raised the war whoop, and poured a shower of balls
into the lodges. Five men were killed by this
first volley. The sleepers started, and boldly gave
back the exulting shout of the enemy. They
made so good a use of their knives, that in an incredibly
short space of time each had dug a hole
in the ground deep enough to protect his body,
and with such effect did they project their missiles
that in a few minutes the assailants were compelled
to retire to a more respectful distance.
At the first fire Ahkitchetah Dootah sprang
upon his feet, and exclaimed that his time was
come at last, and that he should now rejoin his son.
He snatched up his tomahawk and ran out of the
lodge. A bullet through his thigh did not check
his career in the least. He brained the Saque who
had discharged it, and rushed upon the next with
his tomahawk uplifted. The enemy waited till the
old man was within five paces, and then fired his
piece with a certain aim. The bullet struck the
Siou between the eyes, and he was a dead man
before his face touched the ground. Thus did
Ahkitchetah Dootah fulfil his vow to `throw away
his body.'
The Saques and Foxes showed less than their
-- 051 --
[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
wonted courage and the strife was soon over.
They gave way before the Dahcotahs, and Keokok,
their partizan, or war chief, was the first to
throw off all encumbrances and fly. The Sioux
were too few to urge the pursuit far. Seven of them
had been killed, and twice that number of the enemies
remained on the field of battle.
He whose avocations or pleasure may lead him
to a wild and solitary glen on the north branch of
the Terre Bleue, four or five miles from its junction
with the other arm of the river, will there find
the bones of the slain Saques and Foxes whitening
on the earth. In the branches of the trees above,
he will see the bodies of the fallen Dahcotahs, carefully
wrapped up in buffalo robes. (5)
-- --
PAYTON SKAH.
His hopes destroyed, his heart strings broke,
No words of wo the warrior spoke,
His bosom heav'd no sigh.
`Thine be the fair,' the hero said;
Then proudly rear'd his lofty head,
And turn'd away—to die.
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
We have before intimated that we cannot pretend
to much accuracy with regard to dates. So
we are not certain that the events we are about to
relate did not happen five centuries ago, perhaps
more; but it is probable that the time was not so
remote. Be that as it may, we shall give the facts
in the same order in which tradition hands them
down.
The Dahcotahs were at war with the Mandans.
Many were the onslaughts they made on each
other, and long were they remembered. Among
the Sioux warriors who struck the post, (1) and
took the war path, none was more conspicuous
that Payton Skah, or The White Otter. He belonged
to the Yankton band. When he returned
from the field with his head crowned with laurels,
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
or more properly with his bridle rein adorned with
Mandan scalps, the seniors of the tribe pointed to
him and exhorted their sons to ride, to draw the
bow, and to strike the enemy like Payton Skah.[1]
Payton Skah was a husband and a father. As
soon as he was reckoned a man, and able to support
a family, he had taken to his bosom the young
and graceful Tahtokah, (The Antelope) thought
to be the best hand at skinning the buffalo, making
moccasins, whitening leather, and preparing marrow
fat, in the tribe. She was not, as is common
among the Dahcotahs, carried an unwilling or indifferent
bride to her husband's lodge. No, he
had lighted his match in her father's tent, and held
it before her eyes, and she had blown it out, as instigated
by love to do. (2) And when he had
espoused her in form, her affection did not diminish.
She never grumbled at pulling off his leggins
and moccasins when he returned from the chase,
nor at drying and rubbing them till they became
soft and pliant. (3) A greater proof of her regard
was, that she was strictly obedient to her mother
in law. And Payton Skah's attachment, though
his endearments were reserved for their private
hours, was not less than hers. No woman in the
camp could show more wampum and other ornaments,
than the wife of the young warrior. He
was even several times known, when she had been
to bring home the meat procured by his arrows, to
relieve her of a part of the burthen by taking it
upon his own manly shoulders. (4) In due time,
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
she gave him a son; a sure token that however
many more wives he might see proper to take, he
would never put her away. The boy was the idol
of his old grandmother, who could never suffer him
out of her sight a moment, and used constantly to
prophecy, that he would become a brave warrior
and an expert horse stealer; a prediction that his
manhood abundantly verified.
In little more than a year the youngster was
able to walk erect. About this time the band began
to feel the approach of famine. Buffaloes
were supposed to abound on the river Des Moines,
and thither Payton Skah resolved to go. His mother
had cut her foot while chopping wood and
was unable to travel; but she would not part
with her grandchild. Tahtokah unwillingly consented
to leave her boy behind, at the request of
her husband, which indeed she never thought of
disputing. One other family accompanied them.
They soon reached the Des Moines, and encamped
on its banks. Many wild cattle were killed,
and much of their flesh was cured. The young
wife now reminded her spouse that his mother
must by this time be able to walk, and that she
longed to see her child. In compliance with her
wishes he mounted his horse and departed, resolved
to bring the rest of the band to the land of
plenty.
At his arrival his compatriots, on his representations,
packed up their baggage and threw
down their lodges. A few days brought them to
where he had left his wife and her companions.
But the place was desolate. No voice haned their
-- 055 --
[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
approach; no welcome greeted their arrival. The
lodges were cut to ribbons,[2] and a bloody trail
marked where the bodies of their inmates had been
dragged into the river. Following the course of
the stream, the corpses of all but Tahtokah were
found on the shores and sand-bars. Hers was
missing, but this gave her husband no consolation.
He knew that neither Sioux nor Mandans spared
sex or age, and supposed it to be sunk in some
eddy of the river. And Mandans the marks the
spoilers had left behind them, proved them to be.
Now Payton Skah was, for an Indian, a kind
and affectionate husband. The Sioux mothers
wished their daughters might obtain partners like
him; and it was proverbial to say of a fond couple,
that they loved like Payton Skah and Tahtokah.
Yet on this occasion, whatever his feelings might
have been, he uttered no sigh, he shed no tear.
But he gave what was, in the eyes of his co-mates,
a more honorable proof of his grief. He vowed
that he would not take another wife, nor cut his
hair, till he had killed and scalped five Mandans.
And he filled his quiver, saddled his horse, and
raised the war song immediately. He found followers,
and departed incontinently. At his return
but three obstacles to his second marriage remained
to be overcome.
In the course of the year he fulfilled the conditions
of his vow. The five scalps were hanging
in the smoke of his lodge, but he evinced no inclination
towards matrimony. On the contrary, his
-- 056 --
[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]
countenance was sorrowful, he pined away, and
every one thought he was in a consumption. His
mother knew his disposition better. Thinking, not
unwisely, that the best way to drive the old love
out of his head was to provide him a new one, she
with true female perseverance, compelled him by
teazing and clamor to do as she wished.
So the old woman selected Chuntay Washtay
(The Good Heart) for her son, and demanded her
of her parents, who were not sorry to form such a
connexion. The bride elect herself showed no
alacrity in the matter; but this was too common a
thing to excite any surprise or comment. She
was formally made over to Payton Skah, and duly
installed in his lodge.
He was not formed by nature to be alone. Notwithstanding
the contempt an Indian education inculcates
for the fair sex, he was as sensible to female
blandishments as a man could be. Though
his new wife was by no means so kind as the old
one, yet as she fulfilled the duties of her station
with all apparent decorum, he began to be attached
to her. His health improved, he was again
heard to laugh, and he hunted the buffalo with
as much vigor as ever. Yet when Chuntay
Washtay, as she sometimes would, raised her voice
higher than was consistent with conjugal affection,
he would think of his lost Tahtokah and struggle
to keep down the rising sigh.
A young Yankton who had asked Chuntay
Washtay of her parents previous to her marriage,
and who had been rejected by them, now became
a constant visiter in her husband's lodge. He
-- 057 --
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
came early, and staid and smoked late. But as
Payton Skah saw no appearance of regard for the
youth in his wife, he felt no uneasiness. If he had
seen what was passing in her mind, he would have
scorned to exhibit any jealousy. He would have
proved by his demeanor `that his heart was
strong.' He was destined ere long to be more
enlightened on this point.
His mother was gone with his child, on a visit
to a neighboring camp, and he was left alone with
his wife. It was reported that buffaloes were to
be found at a little oasis in the prairie, at about the
distance of a day's journey, and Chuntay Washtay
desired him to go and kill one, and hang its
flesh up in a tree out of the reach of the wolves.
`You cannot get back to night' she said, `but you
can make a fire and sleep by it, and return tomorrow.
If fat cows are to be found there we will
take down our lodge and move.'
The White Otter did as he was desired. His
wife brought his beautiful black horse, which he
had selected and stolen from a drove near the
Mandan village, (5) to the door of the lodge. He
threw himself on its back, and having listened to
her entreaties that he would be back soon, rode
away.
His gallant steed carried him to the place of
his destination with the speed of the wind. The
buffaloes were plenty, and in the space of two
hours he had killed and cut up two of them.
Having hung the meat upon the branches, he
concluded that as he had got some hours of
-- 058 --
[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]
daylight, he would return to his wife. He applied
the lash, and arrived at the camp at midnight.
He picketed his horse carefully, and bent his
way to his own lodge. All was silent within, and
the dogs, scenting their master, gave no alarm.
He took up a handful of dry twigs outside the
door and entered. Raking open the coals in the
centre of the lodge he laid on the fuel, which presently
blazed and gave a bright light. By its aid
he discovered a spectacle that drove the blood
from his heart into his face. There lay Chantay
Washtay, fast asleep by the side of her quondam
lover. Payton Skah unsheathed his knife
and stood for a moment irresolute; but his better
feelings prevailing, he returned it to its place in
his belt, and left the lodge without awakening
them. Going to another place he laid himself
down, but not to sleep.
But when the east began to be streaked with
grey, he brought his horse, his favorite steed, to
the door of the tent. Just as he reached it those
within awoke, and the paramour of Chantay
Washtay came forth and stood before him. He
stood still. Fear of the famous hunter and renowned
warrior kept him silent. Payton Skah,
in a stern voice commanded him to re-enter; and
when he had obeyed followed him in. The
guilty wife spoke not, but covered her face with
her hands, till her husband directed her to light a
fire and prepare food. She then rose and hung
the earthen utensil over the fire,(6) and the repast
was soon ready. At the command of Payton
Skah she placed a wooden platter or bowl
-- 059 --
[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]
before him, and another for his unwilling guest.
This last had now arrived at the conclusion that
he was to die, and had screwed up his courage to
meet his fate with the unshrinking fortitude of an
Indian warrior. He ate therefore, in silence, but
without any sign of concern. When the repast
was ended Payton Skah produced his pipe, filled
the bowl with tobacco mixed with the inner bark
of the red willow, and after smoking a few whiffs
himself, gave it to the culprit. Having passed
from one to the other till it was finished, the aggrieved
husband ordered his wife to produce her
clothing and effects, and pack them up in a bundle.
This done he rose to speak.
`Another in my place,' he said to the young
man, `had he detected you as I did last night,
would have driven an arrow through you before
you awoke. But my heart is strong, and I have
hold of the heart of Chantay Washtay. You
sought her before I did, and I see she would rather
be your companion than mine. She is yours;
and that you may be able to support her, take
my horse, and my bow and arrows also. Take
her and depart, and let peace be between us.'
At this speech the wife, who had been trembling
lest her nose should be cut off, and her lover,
who had expected nothing less than death,
recovered their assurance and left the lodge.
Payton Skah remained; and while the whole
band was singing his generosity, brooded over his
misfortunes in sadness and silence.
Notwithstanding his boast of the firmness of his
resolution, his mind was nearly unsettled by the
-- 060 --
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shock. He had set his whole heart upon Tahtokah,
and when the wound occasioned by her loss
was healed, he had loved Chantay Washtay with
all his might. He could vaunt of his indifference
to any ill that woman could inflict to the warriors
of his tribe, but the boast that they could
have truly made, was not true coming from him.
Though one of the bravest of men his heart
was as soft as a woman's, in spite of precept and
example. At this second blight of his affections,
he fell into a settled melancholy, and one or two
unsuccessful hunts convinced him that he was a
doomed man; an object of the displeasure of
God; and that he need never more look for any
good fortune. A post dance, at which the performers
alternately sung their exploits, brought
this morbid state of feeling to a crisis. Like the
rest, he recounted the deeds he had done, and
declared that to expiate the involuntary offence
he had committed against the Great Spirit, he
would go to the Mandan village and throw away
his body. All expostulation was vain; and the
next morning he started on foot and alone to put
his purpose in execution.
He travelled onward with a heavy heart, and
the eighth evening found him on the bank of the
Missouri, opposite the Mandan village. He swam
the river, and saw the lights shine through the
crevices, and heard the dogs bark at his approach.
Nothing dismayed, he entered the village, and
promenaded through it two or three times. He
saw no man abroad, and impatient of delay, entered
the principal lodge. Within he found two
-- 061 --
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women, who spoke to him, but he did not answer.
He drew his robe over his face, and sat down in
a dark corner, intending to await the entrance of
some warrior, by whose hands he might honorably
die. The women addressed him repeatedly,
but could not draw from him any reply. Finding
him impenetrable, they took no further notice,
but continued their conversation as if no one had
been present. Had they known to what tribe
he belonged they would have fled in terror; but
they supposed him to be a Mandan. He gathered
from it that the men of the village were
all gone to the buffalo hunt, and would not return
till morning. Most of the females were with
them. Here then, was an opportunity to wreak
his vengeance on the tribe such as had never before
occurred, and would probably never occur
again. But he refrained in spite of his Indian
nature. He had not come to kill any one as on
former occasions, but to lay down his own life;
and he remained constant in his resolution.
If it be asked why the Mandans left their village
in this defenceless condition, we answer,
that Indian camps are frequently left in the same
manner. Perhaps they relied on the broad and
rapid river, to keep off any roving band of Dahcotahs
that might come thither. Payton Skah
sat in the lodge of his enemies till the tramp of a
horse on the frozen earth, and the jingling of the
little bells round his neck, announced that a warrior
had returned from the hunt. Then the
White Otter prepared to go to whatever lodge the
Mandan might enter, and die by his arrows or
-- 062 --
[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]
tomahawk. But he had no occasion to stir. The
horseman rode straight to the lodge in which he
sat, dismounted, threw his bridle to a squaw, and
entered. The women pointed to their silent
guest, and related how unaccountably he had behaved.
The new comer turned to Payton Skah,
and asked who and what he was. Then the
Yankton, like Caius Marcius within the walls of
Corioli, rose, threw off his robe, and drawing himself
up with great dignity, bared his breast and
spoke. `I am a man. Of that, Mandan, be assured.
Nay, more: I am a Dahcotah, and my
name is Payton Skah. You have heard it before.
I have lost friends and kin by the arrows of your
people, and well have I revenged them. See, on
my head I wear ten feathers of the war eagle.(7)
Now it is the will of the Master of life that I
should die, and to that purpose came I hither.
Strike therefore, and rid your tribe of the greatest
enemy it ever had.'
Courage, among the aborigines as charity
among Christians, covereth a multitude of sins.
The Mandan Warrior cast on his undaunted foe
a look in which respect, delight, and admiration
were blended. He raised his war club as if
about to strike, but the Siou blenched not; not a
nerve trembled — his eyelids did not quiver. The
weapon dropped from the hand that held it. The
Mandan tore open his own vestment, and said,
`No, I will not kill so brave a man. But I will
prove that my people are men also. I will not be
outdone in generosity. Strike thou; then take
my horse and fly.'
-- 063 --
[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]
The Siou declined the offer, and insisted upon
being himself the victim. The Mandan was
equally pertinacious; and this singular dispute
lasted till the latter at last held out his hand in
token of amity. He commanded the women to
prepare a feast, and the two generous foes sat
down and smoked together. The brave of the
Missouri accounted for speaking the Dahcotah
tongue by saying that he was himself half a Siou.
His mother had belonged to that tribe and so did
his wife, having both been made prisoners. In
the morning Payton Skah should see and converse
with them. And the Yankton proffered,
since it did not appear to be the will of the Great
Spirit that he should die, to become the instrument
to bring about a firm and lasting peace between
the two nations.
In the morning the rest of the band arrived,
and were informed what visitor was in the village.
The women screamed with rage and cried for
revenge. The men grasped their weapons and
rushed tumultuously to the lodge to obtain it. A
great clamor ensued. The Mandan stood before
the door, declaring that he would guarantee the
rights of hospitality with his life. His resolute demeanor,
as well as the bow and war club he held
ready to make his words good made the impression
he desired. The Mandans recoiled, consulted,
and the elders decided that Payton Skah
must be carried as a prisoner to the council
lodge, there to abide the result of their deliberations.
Payton Skah, indifferent to whatever might
-- 064 --
[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]
befall him, walked proudly to the place appointed
in the midst of a guard of Mandans, and accompanied
by the taunts and execrations of the
squaws. The preliminary of smoking over, the
consultation did not last long. His new friend
related how the prisoner had entered the village,
alone and unarmed save with his knife; how he
had magnanimously spared the women and children
when at his mercy; and how he had offered
to negotiate a peace between the two tribes. Admiration
of his valor overcame the hostility of the
Mandans. Their hatred vanished like snow before
the sun, and it was carried by acclamation,
that he should be treated as became an Indian
brave, and dismissed in safety and with honor.
At this stage of proceedings a woman rushed
into the lodge, broke through the circle of stern
and armed warriors, and threw herself into the
arms of the Dahcotah hero. It was Tahtokah,
his first, his best beloved! He did not return her
caresses; that would have derogated from his
dignity; but he asked her how she had escaped
from the general slaughter at the Des Moines,
and who was her present husband.
She pointed to the Mandan to whom he had
offered his breast. He it was she said, who had
spared her, and subsequently taken her to wife.
He now advanced and proposed to Payton Skah
to become his kodah, or comrade, and to receive
his wife back again, two propositions to which the
latter gladly assented. For according to the
customs of the Dahcotahs, a wife may be lent to
one's kodah without any impropriety.(8)
-- 065 --
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The Mandans devoted five days to feasting the
gallant Yankton. At the end of that time he departed
with his recovered wife, taking with him
three horses laden with robes and other gifts bestowed
on him by his late enemies. His kodah
accompanied him half way on his return, with a
numerous retinue, and at parting received his promise
that he would soon return. We leave our
readers to imagine the joy of Tahtokah at seeing
her child again on her arrival among the Sioux,
as well as the satisfaction of the tribe at hearing
that its best man had returned from his perilous
excursion alive and unhurt. In less than two
months Payton Skah was again among the Mandans
with six followers, who were hospitably received
and entertained. An equal number of
Mandans accompanied them on their return home,
where they experienced the like treatment. As
the intercourse between the tribes became more
frequent hostilities were discontinued, and the
feelings that prompted them were in time forgotten.
The peace brought about as above related
has continued without interruption to this day. As
to Payton Skah, he recovered his health and spirits,
was successful in war and the chase, and was
finally convinced that the curse of the Almighty
had departed from him.
eaf381.n1[1] Vide `The Hohays,' Note (8).
eaf381.n2[2] Vide `The Hohays,' Note (4.)
-- --
CHARLES HESS.
I oft have striven as becomes a man
With red and white. Ay stranger, and for sport
Have grappled with the grisly bear. But now
I am alone on earth; there runs no drop
Of blood akin to mine within the veins
Of any, save one only, who do live.
Destruction dogg'd the footsteps of my race,
And sank them sudden in one bloody grave.
Logan, an unpublished Tragedy.
[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]
The Indians are not the only persons who
excite interest in the northwest. Among the
many rude adventurers drawn into that country by
love of excitement and impatience of restraint,
there are some possessed of qualities that in other
situations would command respect, and perhaps
admiration. But these qualities are lost to the
world. It has often been observed, that men
most exposed to hardships, danger, and privation,
by the nature of their employments, as for example
soldiers and sailors, are more attached to
their occupations than those of more tranquil
habits. No where is this more forcibly exemplified
than by the persons actively engaged in the
Indian trade. Once fairly drawn in, they are
-- 067 --
[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]
seldom known to leave it. A very short residence
among the aborigines learns them to despise
the refinement and artificial wants of civilized
society, and spurn the restraints legally and conventionally
established to bind men to each other.
The wild, independent habits of the wilderness
are at first pleasing from novelty, and soon become
riveted by custom. An Indian wife, and a family
of half breed children complete the change; and
when they have thus encumbered themselves,
they may be considered as chained to their occupation
for life.
Charles Hess, the subject of this sketch, was
an example of the truth of the foregoing remarks.
With a strength of mind and body seldom equalled,
and an energy and quickness of apprehension,
that with the advantages of education would have
insured him a high rank in any profession he
might have chosen, the circumstances above detailed
rendered him poor and miserable all his
life.
Where he belonged cannot be ascertained. He
had a faint recollection of having witnessed the
burning of his paternal roof, and the slaughter of
his family by a party of Indians, and as he retained
his language and remembered his name, he
believed himself an American. Having lived
several years a savage, among savages, and after
being many times transferred from one tribe to
another, he found himself at last on the Red river
of the north, and entered the service of the North
American Fur Company, where his talents and
activity soon obtained him a clerkship.(1)
-- 068 --
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According to the custom of the country, he married
a Chippeway squaw, by whom he had several
children.
Hess was modest, and never boasted of his personal
exploits. Yet sometimes when strongly urged,
he would relate passages of his life of wild adventure;
but on such occasions his own part of
the story was always underrated. The author has
heard him tell of what he had done and seen;
and his account of himself fell far short of common
report.
A grisly bear is an animal far more formidable
than the common black bear of America: it is
about the size of its polar namesake; much
swifter, and more active; though its great weight
hinders it from climbing trees. Of all beasts of
prey it is perhaps the only one that neither fears
fire nor the face of man. Such is its ferocity
that when hungry it will follow the human track
as a hound does that of a deer. When full grown
its claws are six inches long. Those Indians who
have killed one of these animals make a necklace
of them and value it highly: the Dahcotahs
think it as great a feat to destroy a grisly bear as
to slay an enemy in battle, and never dare to
hunt one but in large parties, nor without a previous
religious ceremony.
`Once,' said Hess, as we were sitting before a
blazing fire, `I commanded a brigade of canoes
that I was charged to conduct to the place of their
destination on the Saskatchawayn.(2) At sunset
we put ashore and encamped, for the boatmen
were sorely fatigued with their day's work. It
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was a raw evening in October, and we built enormous
fires. The men soon despatched their
allowance of lyed corn and grease, for they were
on short allowance, and there is no sauce like
hunger.(3) They turned the canoes bottom upward
to sleep under and laid down in safety, as
they thought. I had spread my mat in my tent
and was just beginning to doze, when I was roused
by a yell as if all the fiends had broken loose. I
seized my gun and ran out of the tent, when I
was immediately aware of the cause of the tumult.
Fifty tongues informed me that a grisly bear had
paid our camp a visit. He had taken a man
named Longtain out of his blanket, as he slept
before a roaring fire, and was carrying him off
with all possible expedition. The men had guns,
but were afraid to fire, lest they should kill their
comrade. Yet the poor fellow did not lose his
presence of mind even in that moment of deadly
peril. `Fire, fire,' he cried; `it is better to be
shot than torn topieces.' We could still see the
willows bending under the bear by the starlight.
I had raised my gun, but Louison Désmarets, a
Kinisteneau half breed, was quicker. He fired,
and a horrible growl told us that his bullet had
taken effect. Directly after, Longtain joined us,
sadly frightened, but not at all hurt. The thick
blanket coat he wore had protected him from the
bear's teeth, and the ball had gone through the
animal's brain. It was a wonderful preservation,
and all things considered, a lucky occurrence.
Nobody was hurt; Longtain had a story to tell
for the rest of his life, and Désmarets had the
-- 070 --
[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]
satisfaction to save his comrade. We fed on the
intended feeder, and for the two next days our
scanty pittance of corn and grease was exchanged
for an abundance of good fat bear's meat.'
`Another time,' he continued, `I was at my
fort(4) on the river Qui Appelle, and an hundred
Kinisteneaux lodges were pitched about me. One
morning an Indian announced that he had seen a
grisly bear in the adjacent prairie. I had disposed
of all my trading guns, and the lock of my
own was broken; yet I was not long in saddling
and bridling my good horse, nor in equipping myself
with a tough bow and a quiver of arrows. I
found a party of forty Kinisteneaux assembled on
the bear's tracks. They had peeled some willow
sticks and laid them across the foot prints, and
were smoking and praying lustily. I told them I
would not be detained by such folly, but would
ride on before the bear had time to escape. One
old man said, “I have often been told that the
men with hats are fools, and now I see it is
true!” I did not wait to hear any more but
gallopped away.'
`There was a light snow on the ground, and
the tracks were plainly to be seen. An hour of
brisk riding brought me up to Bruin. My horse
was afraid of him, trembled, snorted and made
every effort to throw me; but I was not to be
dismounted so easily. By a strong application of
the bit I forced him to stand till the bear was
within twenty steps of me, roaring terribly. I let
fly an arrow at him, but it recoiled from his side
as it would have recoiled from a stone wall. The
-- 071 --
[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]
reason of this was, as I afterwards discoverd,
that the point was not firmly fixed to the wood,
and it turned when it struck him. I was now
obliged to make all speed, for the beast was too
close for safety, and if my horse had not been
staunch I should hardly have escaped. However,
Bruin soon tired of following, and I became
the pursuer in my turn. After three hours hard
riding I had stuck three arrows into him, and he
laid down to die. While I sat on my horse,
waiting for the death struggle, that I might approach
him in safety, the Indians came up. The
same old man who had before spoken to me
cried, “Ah! I now see that the people with hats
are not such fools as I thought!” We took off
the bear's skin, which was all that was worth taking,
for he was old and tough and rank, in short
not fit to eat.'
In the winter of eighteen hundred and —,
Hess was stationed at the Lake of the Woods.
An Indian called Opawgun Mokkeetay, or the
Black Pipe, took offence at him for having refused
to give him as much liquor as he desired.
Shortly after Hess had occasion to go on a journey,
and employed the Black Pipe as a guide.
They travelled together half a day without any
suspicion on the part of Hess. As they came to
a ravine, the Indian proposed to stop and smoke
before crossing it, and the white man cheerfully
complied. `Brother,' said Opawgun Mokkeetay,
`you have always been very kind to me. The
other day you refused to let me make a fool of
-- 072 --
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
myself. You were right. I have a fast hold on
your heart.'(5)
`I am glad,' replied Hess, `that you are wise
at last; but we have far to go; let us push on.'
`Directly,' rejoined the other, examining the
lock and priming of his gun. `Go on brother. I
will but tie my moccasin, and then follow.'
Hess took up his own piece and crossed the
gap; just as he attained the level ground on the
other side, he heard the report of the Indian's
weapon, and felt his side grazed by a bullet. He
turned and saw that Opawgun Mokkeetay had
taken to his heels as soon as he fired. A ball
from the white man's gun overtook him, and he
fell. The weapon levelled for the destruction of
Hess had been charged with two bullets, and this
contrivance to make sure of him saved his life.
The balls had diverged; one grazed his right
side, and the other cut his belt in twain on his
left. He returned in a few days to his house.
Two or three evenings after his return, a cousin
of the deceased, by name Squibee, or the Drunkard,
entered his apartment with his gun in his
hand and his face painted black.(6) He seated
himself before the fire without saying a word.
Hess saw that he was bent on mischief, and
thought it best to temporise. He offered the
Drunkard a pipe, which was refused. He then
set before him a wooden platter of boiled
venison, but he would not taste it. He spoke
several times to the savage, but received no answer.
Squibee sat sullen and immoveable, his
eyes steadfastly fixed on the blazing logs before
-- 073 --
[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
him. At intervals his eyes turned in their sockets,
though his head did not move, and he cast
furtive and scowling glances around. The engag
és belonging to the establishment, who were
much attached to their principal, looked in, but
when they saw the expression of the Indian's features,
they shrunk back, and loaded their guns.
After a silence of half an hour Hess determined
to bring matters to an issue. `Nitchee,' (i. e.
friend) said he `what makes your heart sorrowful,
and what do you seek in my house?'
`My brother Opawgun Mokkeetay is dead,' replied
the savage. `My eyes are dry, and I want
something to make the tears come in them.'
Hess went into his store house and drew a glass
of spirits, which he gave to the Indian. The latter
held it up between his eyes and the light, and
then threw it into the fire. It blazed above the
chimney.
`Why did you not drink it?' said Hess.
`It is not good, it is no better than water,' replied
the other.
`It burned as if it was good,' said Hess, still
desirous to conciliate him. `I thought it was
strong enough. I will get you some more.' And
he went out to do so.
Squibee was evidently working himself to the
pitch of resolution requisite for some desperate
action. He began to examine his gun, and to
look uneasily about him. At one moment he
seemed to relent. He wiped the smut from one
side of his face with the corner of his blanket;
but one of the Canadians happening to look in,
-- 074 --
[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
he turned away his head. The instant the man
withdrew, he scraped some soot from the chimney
back with his fingers, spat upon it, and renewed
the color of his visage with the mixture. He had
scarcely finished when Hess reappeared. `Here,'
said the trader, `is liquor that is strong as fire.
Drink.'
The Indian doggedly put the glass to his lips,
took a mouthful, and spat it out again. He threw
the remainder into the fire, saying, `neither is
that good. Bring more.'
Hess turned to obey, and as he stooped to pass
through the door, heard the explosion of Squibee's
gun, and saw the splinters fly from the timber
over his head. Without testifying any concern
he went out, and was asked by Ménard, one of
his people, `what is the matter? are you hurt,
mon bourgeois?'
`I believe not,' he replied, `but I have had
a narrow escape. I felt the scoundrel's bullet
stir my cap.' He took it off, and saw that he
had indeed been near death: the ball had gone
through it within an inch of his skull.
Without uttering another word he entered his
store, drew a third glass of alcohol, and returned
with it to the room where he had left the
Indian sitting. He offered him the liquor, saying,
`You have been at the fort at the forks of the
Assineboin river, and have seen the scales that
are there used to weigh furs go up and down.
Just so it is with your life. Shall I live? Shall
I die? Dog!' he continued, his choler rising as
he saw that the Indian's countenance did not
-- 075 --
[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]
relax its ferocious expression, `your life is light in
the balance. Look at that sun. It is the last
time you shall ever look upon it. Drink that
liquor. It is the last you shall ever drink.'
Squibee, as ready to suffer as he had been to
inflict suffering, took the glass, coolly emptied its
contents, and drew his blanket over his head.(7)
Hess levelled a pistol and blew out his brains.
Ménard and the other engagés rushed into the
room at the report, with their guns, and discharged
them into the bleeding body of the Chippeway.
`If any harm is to come to you, mon bourgeois,'
cried Ménard, `we are resolved to share it. If
the Indians revenge themselves on you, they shall
kill us also.'
Some days after the Drunkard's brothers sent
to invite Hess to a feast in their lodge.
This wigwam, like all Chippeway lodges, was
made of mats of rushes, spread upon a frame of
slight poles of an oval form; the fire was in the
centre, and the smoke escaped through a hole in
the top. Hess found the three brothers of the
man he had slain, sitting, with their legs crossed
under them; each had a wooden bowl full of
dogs' flesh before him. A bear skin to sit upon,
and a similar repast, were placed for Hess. The
Indians had painted their faces black, and their
arms were laid beside them. `Sit,' said the elder
of the brothers, and Hess sat down. The speaker
then produced a red, stone pipe, with a stem three
feet long, curiously ornamented with eagle feathers,
porcupine quills, and human hair dyed red,
which had been taken from the scalp of a
-- 076 --
[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]
Dahcotah. He filled it with a mixture of tobacco,
and the dried and pulverized inner bark of the
red willow; which compound is called kinnikkinik
in the Chippeway tongue. He lighted the
pipe, took a few whiffs, and passed it to the next,
who imitated his example. When the brethren
had smoked, it was handed to Hess, the elder
saying, `our brothers whom you have killed were
foolish young men, and deserved their fate. We
know they sought it, and that you are blameless in
what has happened. If they had followed our
advice they would now be alive: but they were
fools, and a fool soon comes to his end. We
offer you this pipe, and ask you to eat of the dish
before you in token of amity, and assurance that
no harm shall befall you for what you have been
compelled to do.'
`Brothers,' replied Hess, `I am a man: if
you had intended me harm I should not have fallen
alone.' And he showed the butts of two brace of
pistols that he had brought under his garment.
`But,' he continued, `I am not to blame for what
has come to pass. If you wish me to believe
your words, or to smoke your pipe, or to partake
of your feast, you must first wash the black color
of your faces away; and then I will comply with
your invitation. I am not a woman, nor a child,
to believe every bird that sings.'
The Indians rose, left the lodge, and soon
returned with their faces washed. One of them
said, “If our faces were black, our hearts were
clean. It was not in sign of malice towards you,
-- 077 --
[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]
but of grief for our relations that we were painted.
Eat then, and smoke, without doubt or fear.'
Hess smoked and ate. When he had finished,
the elder Indian said, `we hope, brother, that you
will give the widows and children of the dead
something to cover their nakedness, and to relieve
their hunger.' And Hess complied with the request,
for he was a humane man when left quiet.
Whether, if they had not washed their faces,
the family would have avenged their slain relatives
or not, cannot now be ascertained; but it is
certain he was never after molested for what he
had done.
When the Hudson's Bay and North West
Companies united, Hess, like many others, was
thrown out of employment. He remained at
Pembinaw (Lord Selkirk's settlement) and maintained
his family by planting, trapping, and hunting
the buffalo, till the autumn of 1822, when he
received a proposal from the principal partners of
the Columbian Fur Company, then just formed,
to engage in their service. He accepted the offer,
bought two carts and horses, and started with
his family and little effects, to go across the plains
to Lae au Travers, the principal post of his future
employers. He was mounted on a good horse,
and expected to subsist on the buffaloes he might
find in his route. To the inhabitants of the Atlantic
coast it may appear strange, that a family
of eight, women and children, should undertake a
journey of nearly three hundred miles under the
protection of one elderly man only, with the sky
for a covering, and relying on his success in the
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chase for support. But we can assure them that
nothing is more common in the north-west than
such excursions; and the hardships they must
have reckoned on enduring are there accounted
as trifles.
They had accomplished about half the distance
they had to go, without seeing any of the roving
bands of Sioux that infest the prairies on
the Red River, and expected to complete the
journey in the like security. One day at noon
they halted at the river Aux Outardes to refresh
themselves, and give their horses time to graze.
While they were eating, a drove of buffaloes came
in sight, and Hess mounted his steed to pursue
them. From a cause then unknown to him, the
animals took fright, and he followed them far and
long before he brought one down.
For two days the family had been observed by
an erratic band of Dahcotahs, whose name cannot
conveniently be expressed by the letters of the
English alphabet; but translated, it signifies
People of the Pole. They are the Ishmaelites of
the north-west. None ever escaped from their
hands without being plundered, unless too strong
for them to meddle with: few whom they have
ever plundered have survived to tell the tale.
They knew Hess by report, and one or two of
them had seen him; and from his character they
inferred that they could not attack him openly,
without the loss of one man at least. They had
therefore hitherto kept out of sight; but when
they saw him ride away after the buffaloes, they
sent a runner to frighten the animals, in order
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that he might go too far to see or hear what was
to take place. In this they succeeded too well.
Does the reader ask their motive for aggression?
The wife of Hess was a Chippeway, and the
blood of that hated race ran in the veins of his
children. And had this not been the case, the
thirst of blood, the little property in the carts, the
supply of ammunition and tobacco they expected
to find, and the scanty clothing and pitiful ornaments
of the victims, would have been to them
sufficient inducements to butcher a thousand
human beings. When Hess returned at sunset
faint and weary, from his successful hunt, a sad
sight for a husband and a parent met his view.
The bodies of his wife and children were naked
and had been thrown into the fire; their heads
were divested of their natural covering, and the
trunks bristled with arrows. His carts were
broken in pieces, and the horses were led away.
`I have seen' said Hess, `many a sight of blood
and horror, but never before anything like this.
For a moment my brain turned, and the world
seemed to me to be annihilated. Had the enemy
then come back, they might have taken me like a
child. But other feelings soon arose in my
breast. My blood boiled; I felt it flowing in my
veins like molten lead; my voice became husky
and my palate parched; I was almost suffocated
with rage, which was not at all allayed by the
reflection that I could do nothing for vengeance.
I was alone; a poor, weak, friendless old man:
the murderers had at least four hours the start of
me; their trail I could see; but if I followed it
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what could one, even if he were younger and
stronger than I, have done. But this would
not have weighed with me for an instant, if my
wearied horse could have carried me. Those
only who have suffered such a loss, in such a
manner, can have any idea of my feelings.
`When I came a little to myself, I found that
my children were not all present. There lay my
wife, her infant nailed to her bosom with an arrow.
There was my brave boy, his face upward, still
grasping the knife he had drawn to defend his
mother and sisters, his teeth set, looking defiance,
though cold and dead. Five of my children
were there in one bloody pile; but my eldest
daughter was gone. This did not console me,
for I knew that some brutal savage had saved her,
that she might become his wife.
`I dug their graves with the knife I wore in
my belt. I had no fear that the wolves would
disturb them, for the carcasses of the buffaloes
cumbered the prairie. The work occupied me
all night. I took one last embrace of her, who,
although her hue was dark, had been my faithful
partner through twenty years of joy and sorrow.
With a weak and a trembling hand I laid my
family in the earth, and I swore over them by
God the Father Almighty, the omnipotent maker
of heaven and earth, that if any of those who had
thus bereaved me should ever fall within my
power, I would not spare them; no, not the babe
unborn.'
But when this first storm of passion was over,
his better feelings prompted him to attempt the
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recovery of his daughter, rather than obey the
dictates of revenge. Four days travel carried
him to Lac au Travers. On his arrival he was
kindly welcomed by Messrs M'Kenzie, Laidlaw,
and other partners of the Columbian Fur Company.
Another cup of bitterness was in store for
the unfortunate old man; the next day he was
taken ill, and was confined to his bed for several
days. While he lay upon his fevered couch, he
was informed that the Indian who had made his
daughter a prisoner had taken her to wife. The
gentlemen above mentioned offered him any
amount of merchandise that might be needed for
her ransom, and it was settled that he should go
and demand her at the Indian camp as soon as
his health would permit. A messenger was sent
to ask on what terms she might be redeemed, and
the answer was soon obtained.
As force could avail him nothing, Hess determined
to go alone, and unarmed, in quest of his
offspring. When he arrived at the camp another
dreadful spectacle was prepared for him. The
scalps of his family were hung upon a pole, and
the savages were dancing around them in triumph.
He was greeted, not with hostility, for the hospitality
of the Sioux nation forbade that, but with
evident exulation and insolence. Some sung
the wrong they had done him. He presented
himself before his daughter's husband, or master,
and uncovering his breast said, `I am worthy of
pity. This is my only child; restore her, or strike
me as you struck her mother. I am alone on
earth; lo! here is a ransom.'
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The features of the son of the Pole showed
some feeling. `I am the only child of my father,'
he replied. `The ransom is little, but you are
old and need some one to make your clothes and
moccasins, and to take care of you. Tarry and
partake of our cheer before you depart. Then
take your child, Tahtunkah Nahzhee[3], and begone,
and none shall molest you.'
If it were permitted to compare a poor Indian
trader with a mighty monarch, we should say
that this scene reminds us of Priam kneeling to
Achilles for the body of his son.
Fearful to irritate the Indian, by any sign of
impatience, the heart stricken old man entered
the lodge, and sat down with his daughter to a
dish of boiled buffalo meat. While at this repast,
a young savage who had assisted at the massacre
of his family entered, and holding out his bow and
arrows to Hess, said, `here, Tahtunkah Nahzhee,
I used this once to your sorrow. Do you understand
the use of it?'
His anger for the moment boiled over. He
sprang to his feet, seized the weapons, and drawing
the arrow to the head, replied, `stand off a
little and I shall show you.' For an instant the
life of the Indian was in great danger. But the
elder interfered. `You are a fool,' said he. `Go
away, and let Tahtunkah Nahzhee depart in peace.'
Hess found his way back to Lac au Travers in
safety, and the daughter thus redeemed was
afterwards married to an Indian trader. In the
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year eighteen hundred and twenty —, he went
to Washington with Major Taliaferro, in the
capacity of interpreter to a deputation of Indians.
He had not dwelt in anything like a town before.
He was tall and thin to emaciation, but a life of
constant exercise had indurated his muscles almost
to the hardness of iron. He was strait and strong,
and for his age, active. His eye had lost none of
its quickness or brilliancy, and as he stole along
the streets with the noiseless Indian step he had
acquired, if a carriage rattled behind him, he
would start and feel for his knife, as he used to
do in the wilderness. He would cast sudden,
furtive glances around him, as if he expected an
attack, and was clearly out of his element. On
his return to the north-west he died of a complication
of disorders, and his bones lie on the bank of
the St Peters river. Peace to his manes.
eaf381.n3[3] The Rising Buffalo, a name the Sioux had given to Hess.
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THE BOIS BRULE.
[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]
CHAPTER I.
Yes, truly: for look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the
children; therefore, I promise you I fear for you. I was always plain
with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: Therefore be
of good cheer: for, truly, I think you are damned.
Merchant of Venice.
At the time of which we are about to treat, that
is, between the years eighteen hundred and fourteen
and eighteen hundred and twenty, the country
west of the Mississippi, from the fortyninth degree
of latitude to the Frozen Ocean, was the scene of
bitter contention and fierce strife, between two rival
trading companies; the Hudson's Bay, and the
North-west. The former, existing as a body corporate
under a charter granted by the second
Charles to Prince Rupert and others, found its
ancient privileges and possessions invaded by a new
association, which at first supplied the want of experience
by superior energy, and a double share
of activity. It soon acquired an influence over the
Indians, that gave it a considerable advantage in
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the trade. Fraud and deception became matters
of boast on both sides, and fortunate would it have
been, had the opposition extended to no greater
excess. But being beyond the reach of law, the
traders came ere long to open hostility, and bloodshed
was the order of the day. The Earl of Selkirk
was at the head of the Hudson's Bay Company,
and whoever is desirous to learn the history of
these dissensions, may read it in a book which that
nobleman gave to the world; though it must be allowed
that the work is partial.
The half breeds of the North-west are physically
a fine race of men. The mixture of blood seems
an improvement on the Indian and the white. By
it, the muscular strength of the one, and the easy
grace, and power of endurance of the other, are
blended. They are the offspring of intermarriages
of the white traders, and their subordinates, with
Indian women. Good boatmen, expert hunters,
and inimitable horsemen, as they all are, they are
sometimes engaged in the service of the actual Indian
traders; but more frequently subsist by fishing,
trapping, and hunting the buffalo. It is impossible
to ascertain their number, so widely are
they scattered; but probably it amounts to four or
five thousands. Each speaks French, and the language
of his mother; or to define more accurately,
of his mother's tribe. They receive just enough
religious instruction from their fathers, to despise
the belief and superstitions of their savage kindred,
but are as ignorant of Christianity as Hottentots.
In manners and morals, they are on a par with the
Indians.
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The contending parties found in these people
apt instruments of evil. For small pay they were
ready to act as spies, boatmen, hunters, or banditti;
as they were ordered. If a trader was to
be killed or plundered, or a trading fort attacked,
they were willing and unscrupulous. If a courier
was to be intercepted, they would ease him of his
despatches, and even of his life, when commanded.
If a post was to be established, they could build
log houses, and feed the inmates with buffalo
meat, from one end of the year to the other. The
Scotsmen and Canadians who controlled the trade,
could not have found fitter tools wherewith to
make mischief.
Besides the Indians and half breeds, there are
other inhabitants of the prairies. Canadians, reluctant
to labor, and unwilling to return to places
where the restraints of law and religion are in
force; or perhaps retained in the country by Indian
connexions, mix with the half breeds, and
live the same life. When hired by the traders,
they are termed engagés: when out of employment,
they call themselves `les gens libres,' or free
men. It would seem, from the number of these
last, that ten civilized men degenerate into barbarism,
where one savage is reclaimed from it. Metaphysicians
may speculate upon such a propensity
as much and as long as they please, and devise
means to counteract it; but the fact is thus, and it
is believed, always will be.
This is a long preamble, but in order to a right
understanding of the following story, it will be necessary
to extend it still farther. By some strange
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infatuation, the Earl of Selkirk conceived the plan
of establishing a colony at the junction of the Pembinaw
and Red Rivers, at the fortyninth degree of
latitude. For this purpose he sent an agent to
Scotland, and another to Neufchatel in Switzerland,
to procure colonists. A prospectus was
printed, and circulated among the mountaineers of
either country; describing the promised land in
terms that might with more propriety have been
applied to the garden of Eden. The trees, it said,
broke down under the weight of their fruit. The
buffaloes presented themselves at the doors, every
morning, to be killed; and the climate was like
that of the north of Spain, or of the Langue d'Oc.
Not a word of this statement is true. There are
trees on the water courses, indeed; but they are
elms, or such other products of the soil as have
never borne fruit since the days of Adam. There
are buffaloes; but to be eaten, they must be hunted
and killed. The climate is hot enough in summer;
but the summer is brief, and in winter, Siberia
is not colder. That the Scotch and Swiss
ladies might not want an inducement to emigrate,
the prospectus furthermore held forth that `l'on
avoit besoin de cinquante ou cent jeunes femmes,
saines et robustes; pour unir en mariage avec
autant de colons déja etablis.' Deceived by the
missionaries of colonization, and their promises of
assistance, some hundreds came to Hudson's Bay,
and thence to Ossinneboia, as the settlement was
called. There they found their error. The river
rose every spring, and destroyed their plantations;
and such as had ploughed above high water mark,
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saw their corn devoured in the milk before their
eyes, by swarms of grasshoppers, more voracious
than the locusts of Egypt. To cap the climax of
their distress, the North-west Company began to
look upon the colony as a part of a deep laid
scheme of Lord Selkirk to ruin their trade, and
threatened the harmless emigrants with fire and
sword.
At this period our story commences. One clear
afternoon in October, a boat might be seen making
its way up the Red River, propelled by six oars,
lustily plied by as many stout Canadians. It was
laden with settlers for Pembinaw. There were a
few men, and about twenty women and children.
Their speech was truly a confusion of tongues:
no two of the families spoke the same language:
one addressed his neighbor in French, and was
answered in German; and a third supported his
share of the conversation in one of the patois dialects
of the Canton of Berne. Add to this, the
voices of some half dozen infants, crying with cold
and hunger, (for the Swiss were beginning to discover
the futility of the promises of his lordship's
agent,) and the description is complete.
Two men stood on the bow of the boat. One
of them, who was clad in a blanket coat, and wore
an otter skin cap, was Governor Semple; on his
way to assume the reins of government over a population
of five hundred souls, the inhabitants of
the flourishing colony of Ossinneboia; in virtue of
powers vested in him by the Earl of Selkirk. His
age might be forty, or upwards, and his features
were indicative of his character; too gentle and
-- 089 --
[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]
humane to live in such a country, at such a time.
The other was a tall, good looking youth, with
sparkling dark eyes, and coarse, straight hair, as black
as the raven's wing. His somewhat high cheek
bones, and olive complexion, bespoke him of aboriginal
descent, yet he would have been thought
eminently handsome in any part of the civilized
world. He was dressed in the costume of the
bois brulés. (1) His nether man was invested with
a pair of elk skin trowsers, the seams of which
were ornamented with fringes. Over these he
wore a capot, or surtout, of coarse blue cloth,
reaching to the mid leg, and bound round the waist
with a scarlet woollen sash, in which was stuck a
dague, or broad two edged knife, used in that
country to divide the carcass of the buffalo. Buck
skin moccasins, and a capuchon of one piece with
the surtout, completed his attire. He leaned on a
short gun, such as the Indians in that quarter carry,
and waited for Governor Semple to speak.
Roused from his meditations by a shrill cry from
one of the children, that gentleman broke silence.
`William,' said he to the young man, `I trust these
good folk will find accommodations at Pembinaw,
that will make them forget their present hardships.'
`No, sir;' replied the youth, `unless some of
those who are already housed take them in, they
will not find a roof to shelter them. As to food,
their chance is a poor one. When I was at Pembinaw,
three weeks since, the settlers had nothing
to eat but the fish they caught daily from the river.
The ice will soon make, and then they will be deprived
even of that resource.'
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`That proves great neglect or mismanagement
in them: there are plenty of cattle in the plains,
and they have had the whole summer to make
pemican (2) and raise corn.'
`With due respect for your better judgment, I
should say it proves no such thing. It proves the
folly, or wickedness of those who have persuaded
them to leave their homes for such a country as
this. They have planted; and the blackbirds (3)
and grasshoppers have reaped the harvest. There
are buffaloes for all the world, but the poor creatures
are not hunters; nor do they know how to
cure the meat when it is killed. If they could all
ride and shoot as well as myself, they have no
horses; and how could they, without the guns and
ammunition that were promised? More than
that, the Indians will not suffer them to hunt: it
is not a month since the Yanktons drove a party
of them in. In these circumstances, I should find
some difficulty to live myself; bois brulé as I am.'
To these reasons, Governor Semple had nothing
to reply. He drew his cap lower over his
brows, and covered his face with his hands. A
moment after, he opened his liquor case, and distributed
brandy to the men, and wine and cordials
to the women.
The young man now left his station in the bow
of the boat, and took his place at the side of a girl
who was busied in tending a sick child. `Flora,'
said he, `for heaven's sake, take more care of
yourself. Give the child to its mother, and let
me throw this cloak over you: it is growing
colder fast.'
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`No, William,' replied the lady, in a slightly
Scottish accent; `let me take care of the poor
baby: its mother is unwell, and not able to do it
herself. It would do me more harm, believe me,
to hear their complaints, and witness their sufferings,
than any hardship or privation that I am
likely to undergo.'
`This is but the beginning of their misery. I
am afraid all will suffer bitterly when winter
comes. If your father had had but a little common
sense, you would have been exempt from it.'
`Alas! I know his prejudices too well. Though
you are a Gordon by the father's side, he cannot
overcome his dislike to your Indian blood. For
your own sake, then, seek a fairer and richer bride
than poor Flora Cameron.'
She spoke with evident effort, and turned away
her head to conceal her emotion. We are inclined
to believe that she was not very earnest in
her request, nor displeased at the answer that
followed. Gordon replied, in a whisper, `Forsake
you! may God forsake me if I do! Would
you drive me mad, Flora? When you accepted
the offer of my hand, you were ignorant of my
family, but I know that the discovery has not lowered
me in your opinion. I never sought to deceive
you: I thought my descent was as plainly stamped
on my features, as the mark on the brow of
the first homicide. It seems I was mistaken. If
your heart is still unchanged, why should the folly
of an old dotard sunder us? True, he gave you
life; but did I not save it, and his too? I have
therefore as strong a claim on you, as he. My
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blood is tainted, forsooth! ay, that was the rub
always. At the Catholic College, the boys, who
were glad of my assistance at their tasks, called
me “cursed Indian” when we quarrelled. I could
hardly refrain from proving my right to the appellation
with my dirk. And when I became a
man, those who extended their courtesies to
me, did it as though they thought it condescension.
I had even thought to abjure the society
of civilized man, and seek a refuge from his
scorn in the tents of my Assinneboin kindred.
But I saw Flora Cameron, and my purpose was
changed. And having your plighted faith, do you
think I will relinquish it? No, never! I will not
give over the hope of obtaining your hand, till I
hear the command so to do from your own lips.
Seek a fairer bride, indeed! And where can such
be found?'
`Do you think I believe such gross flattery?
Beauty and I are strangers. You must either be
mad, or exercising your wit at my expense. But
why, if you apprehend so much hardship at Pembinaw,
do you make it your place of residence?
You have yet time to return to Montreal before
the cold weather sets in, and I assure you it will
be a consolation to me to know that you are well.
Do not fear for me: if you wish it, I will again
swear to you, never to marry another. Let that
content you; and if you value my good opinion,
do not again speak of my father as you have done.
He is a good man, and it may be that his family
pride will yield to affection; for what love is like
the love of a parent for an only child? Why have
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[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
you, contrary to my desire, attached yourself to
my footsteps, to make him doubt me? Why will
you remain in this unhappy land, where cold and
hunger are the least evils? Return to Montreal,
I entreat you.'
`If I have acted contrary to your desire, it was
for your own sake. You are not safe in any part
of this country. You have heard of the outrages
already committed: more, and worse, are to happen.
This winter, some will die of starvation, and
some by violence. Your father cannot follow the
elk and buffalo; but I need not tell you that I am
the best hunter here; even among the half breeds.
My skill shall be exerted for you and your father,
and he shall be indebted to me for life again,
whether he will or not. Do you think I could
enjoy a moment's rest at Montreal, knowing as I
do, that you need support and protection? Flora,
speak to me no more of leaving you.'
`What you say is but too true. We have good
reason to tremble. I have not eaten a morsel today,
and there are women in the boat who need
food more than I.'
`What then have you done with your portion
of the provisions, and with what I added to it?'
`I have given it to these poor famishing women;
but if I had known that what I gave was yours, I
would not have taken it.'
`And have you indeed acted thus? Thank
heaven; there is the track of a buffalo that has
been to the river to drink within the hour! I will
go ashore and try to bring a load of his flesh to
the boat.'
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`But William, dear William; do not go far.
Those cruel People of the Pole are abroad; and
if you meet them you will never return. Stay,
stay, I beseech you: I am not at all hungry: I
can fast very well till the next allowance is distributed.
'
He did not hear her. He had already commanded
the steersman to set him on shore, and
the latter had cried allume! (4) The half breed
mounted the bank, waved his hand to Flora, and
disappeared.
When the boat had again put off, Mr Semple
called to Flora to take her seat beside him. He
was informed of the attachment between her and
Gordon, and had endeavored to persuade old
Duncan Cameron to consent to their union. The
clansman was deaf to all reasoning on the subject.
`I am a gentleman born,' he said. `The blood
of Lochiel and Sir Evan Dhu runs in my veins,
and it shall not be contaminated with my consent.
The boy is a good boy, and the Gordons are an
ancient and a noble race, but his mother is an insuperable
objection. So, sir, it is of no use to
argue. I cannot consent to it.'
Flora, notwithstanding her disavowal of all pretensions
to beauty, was an uncommonly beautiful
girl, and was as well aware of it as her lover. At
the time when our tale begins, she had seen seventeen
summers. She was such a maiden, in appearance
at least, as the novelists of the last century
usually took for a heroine. Her figure,
though slight, was active, and perfectly symmetrical.
Imagine a neck like a swan's, down which
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light hair fell in natural ringlets; a brilliant complexion;
a forehead like Juno's; eyes rather mild
than piercing; a straight and well formed nose;
such a mouth as limners delight to delineate; and
a faultless chin. Then add cheeks indented with
such dimples as Love loves to lurk in: form a
combination of these particulars, and you have a
good picture of Flora Cameron.
Before we proceed farther in this history, we
will give some account of its principal characters.
Duncan Cameron was one of that class denominated
originals. His father, who according to
Highland ideas, was a gentleman, because collaterally
descended from Sir Evan Dhu, had amassed
money enough in his vocation of travelling
packman, or pedlar, to enable him to send young
Duncan to school, and afterwards to the University
of Aberdeen. There the youthful Cameron
made a reasonable progress in the humanities.
But he most delighted to listen to Highland genealogies
and traditions, and the tales of seneachies.
He would go to Luckie M'Laughlin's change
house, in the North Wynd, and having ensconced
himself beyond the reach of interruption, in her
cosey back parlor, he would call for a Scots pint
of Glenlivat, and send for Donald Ben Lean Cameron.
Inspired by the beverage, the piper would
relate to him the traditional glories of the Camerons.
The pedlar's son was by nature enthusiastic,
and his early recollections co-operated with
this intellectual study, to convince him that Scotland
was the first and greatest nation in the world;
the clan Cameron the noblest clan in Scotland;
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[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
and himself intimately connected with the honor
of the clan Cameron. His father dying shortly
after he graduated, he found himself in possession
of a thousand pounds sterling. Much and long
did he deliberate how to sustain the dignity of his
name. While he hesitated between physic and
divinity, the blind god stept in and counselled him
to espouse the daughter of a farmer, a tenant of
the Duke of Buccleugh. His father in law was
embarrassed, and Duncan's thousand pounds were
very useful. They managed the farm in tacit
partnership, and the Cameron soon imagined himself
the first agriculturalist in the three kingdoms;
but notwithstanding, nothing that he undertook
succeeded. He would sow wheat on the wettest
soil on the farm, justifying his doings with a quotation
from the Bucolics.
Twentyfive years after, his father in law died.
His wife followed, leaving him a daughter, the sole
fruit of their wedlock. Five years from this event,
poor Duncan was obliged to sell his stock, and
throw up his lease of the farm, to pay his debts.
He found himself with a beautiful girl of fifteen
hanging upon his arm, forty pounds in his pocket,
and
`The world all before him,
Where to choose.'
His pride had increased with his poverty. Yet
he had considerable powers of conversation, and
still remembered something of his classical education.
When reduced to his last guinea, he had
the good fortune to be introduced to the Earl of
-- 097 --
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Selkirk, who after some confabulation, judged
him to be a very proper person to superintend his
infant colony, and to instruct the new comers in
the mysteries of husbandry. He was much of
the same opinion himself. The terms were agreed
upon, and he embarked at Glasgow for Quebec,
where he arrived in due time, without accident.
At Montreal, his situation as homme d'affaires
to his Lordship, and his daughter's beauty, procured
him many attentions from the M'Gillivrays,
M'Leods, and other worthies concerned in the
Indian trade. Many were the swains who sighed
for Miss Cameron. Among these was William
Gordon, with whom our readers are already a little
acquainted. He was introduced to Cameron
as the only son of a half brother of the Marquis of
Huntly, then disputing the inheritance of a considerable
estate, at law, with another member of
the family in Scotland. The young man had been
educated at the Catholic Seminary in Quebec.
His gentlemanly demeanor, and implicit deference
to the opinions of Duncan Cameron, made him a
favorite with the old man; while his polite address,
elegant person, and constant attention, awakened
a stronger feeling in the bosom of his daughter.
With all his good qualities, Flora remarked that
his temperament was melancholy, and that he was
subject to sudden starts of passion. The least
appearance of neglect appeared to cut him to the
soul. Once, in a large company, an outrage
lately committed by an Indian of the St Regis
tribe, was the subject of conversation. A young
Georgian planter, who had visited Montreal for
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the benefit of his health, observed, that might he
hazard an opinion, he thought the whole tribe
should be transported to the West Indies as slaves;
and added, that the Aborigines were scarcely entitled
to the rank of human beings, at any rate.
Flora at this moment turned towards William
Gordon, who was standing behind her chair. His
arms were folded across his breast, his teeth
gritted, and he gazed upon the speaker with an
expression of intense ferocity that appalled her
very soul. His eyes gleamed like those of the
rattle-snake, when about to strike. When he saw
that she observed him, his features relaxed, and
he resumed his wonted manner. This did not,
however, prevent her from being as much pleased
as ever with him. Her father remarked their
growing intimacy, and rejoiced. He liked William
Gordon, and judged from the style in which
he lived, that he would be a very suitable partner
for Flora, in a worldly point of view. The youth
had now become a daily visiter at their lodgings.
An occurrence took place, that brought matters
to a crisis. A sleighing party was to go to the
mouth of the Utawas, on the ice, and our friends
were invited to join it. The whole started in high
spirits; Duncan Cameron, with his daughter, taking
the lead, and Gordon following. About two
miles from the city, there was a large open space,
or air hole, in the ice. Cameron was driving his
horse thirty yards above it, at the speed of ten
miles an hour, when suddenly the sleigh and
the persons in it broke through, and were swept
under by the current.
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The gentlemen of the party stopped their horses,
and the ladies screamed. All stood aghast.
But Gordon pulled off his boots, cast down his
cloak, and plunged into the hole without saying a
word: the whole passed in a moment. The
frolickers now watched the air hole below, in
breathless anxiety. They had begun to think
that all three had perished, when Gordon emerged,
holding Cameron up by the collar with one
hand, and his daughter by the hair with the other;
both too far exhausted to help themselves in the
least.
As he attempted to gain a footing on the edge
of the ice, it broke away under him, and it seemed
that their death was inevitable. None dared
approach. But luckily two Canadian habitants
were crossing with a horse load of planks. They
hastened to his aid. Laying the boards one at
the end of another, the stronger of the two reached
Gordon, now ready to sink: yet he insisted
that Flora should be the first saved. With little
difficulty, the Canadian raised her upon the ice,
and drew her to a safe distance. He then returned,
and extricated the old man in like
manner; and last of all, Gordon was taken from
the water, chilled almost to death, and unable to
walk or stand. The sufferers were immediately
wrapped in buffalo robes, and conveyed with all
the speed the horses could make, to the city,
where medical aid was instantly procured.
Cameron and his daughter had been insensible
while what we have related took place, but tongues
were not wanting to inform them how they had
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been rescued, and to magnify Gordon's gallantry.
That was needless, for he had indeed ran a fearful
risk. In about a week, all three had recovered
from the effects of their submersion.
In a few days, Gordon made a formal proposal
for the hand of Miss Cameron. Her father made
inquiry of Governor Semple, who was known to
be the young man's guardian, concerning his
character. On this point, the Governor's testimony
was in the highest degree satisfactory, but
the fact which he communicated, that Gordon was
a half breed, roused the family pride of the Cameron,
and determined him at once to reject the
suit. At the interview in which this decision was
communicated to Gordon, his indignation and
disappointment broke all restraint; a quarrel ensued,
and the Scot forbade his daughter to hold
any further intercourse with her lover.
She could not obey. Through the instrumentality
of a friend of Gordon, she had an interview
with him, and plighted her word never to
marry another. With this he was obliged to
satisfy himself, for he could not persuade her to
an elopement.
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CHAPTER II.
He is a monstrous feeder, sir. He would
Devour a bullock at one meal, and then
Pick his teeth wi' the horns. He'd eat the Devil
And sup his scalding broth; or gorge a horse
And chase the rider hard.
The Gourmand, an unpublished Comedy.
[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]
The friend mentioned in the last chapter was
a gay, light hearted young Irishman, by name,
Michael Cavenny. He was a clerk in the service
of the Hudson's Bay Company, and was feared
as an opponent by much older traders.
By the advice of Governor Semple, our hero
resolved to go to Assinneboin. His guardian
thought that in that wild country, where the want
of all the luxuries of life must be severely felt, he
would have a better prospect of overcoming
Cameron's opposition than at Montreal.
The same week the bois brulé set out for
Pembinaw. It is needless to relate how he accomplished
the first part of his journey through
the frozen wilderness on snow shoes, or what
savages he encountered withal; but from Fort
William, on the north shore of Lake Superior, he
was attended by two Canadians who knew him
not, nor were they aware that he understood
French, having never heard him speak it.
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One of them, by name La Verdure, was a man
of gigantic stature, remarkable for an unnatural
appetite, and a discontented, mutinous disposition.
They carried from Fort William provisions for
four days, relying on their guns and the chance
of meeting with Indians for their further support.
But the snow was deep, and they were too much
lamed by the weight of their snow shoes(5) to
pursue the few deer they saw. For four days
all went well enough, but on the fifth they fasted,
and La Verdure begun to talk to his comrade of
the good cheer they should find at Fort Douglass.
The next day passed in the same manner; not a
hoof nor a horn did they see, nor even a solitary
prairie hen. La Verdure was sullen and silent,
excepting that he occasionally muttered something
about the bourgeois that had sent them so
far into the desert to perish. At times he cast
wolfish, hungry glances at Gordon, but quickly
averted his head when he saw himself observed.
The bois brulé was as brave a man perhaps, as
ever lived, but he did not that night lie down
before the fire without some misgivings.
Noon came on the seventh day, and as yet
they had not seen an Indian, nor had an opportunity
to kill anything. Then it was that La
Verdure revealed his thoughts to his companion.
`Jussomme,' said he, `I am dying with hunger.
I shall not be able to walk tomorrow unless I find
something to eat.'
`Why,' said Jussomme, `this is not the first time
you have fasted, I suppose? I am hungry
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[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]
myself, but I could travel two days more without
eating.'
`I will tell you better. There is no need for
either of us to fast longer than tonight. Look at
that man there.'
`Well, and what then?' He has nothing to
give us, and we cannot eat him.'
`Why not? If we do not eat we must all three
perish. Sachristie! it is better that one should
die than three. He would last till we can get a
supply. Let us kill him as he sleeps.'
`God forbid! God forbid! (crossing himself)
that were a mortal sin. We could never get absolution.
I would rather die a thousand times.
Villain! I will inform the young man of your
intentions instantly, unless you promise to give
them up.'
`Will you so? then take care of yourself. If
you offer to tell him what I have said I will shoot
you on the spot: I do not fear but I shall be
able to deal with him alone. But I do not wish
to hurt you: you are from my own parish. I
tell you, though, that I neither can nor will live
any longer without food, and if you interfere your
blood be upon your own head.'
`It is a pity. It is a great pity. He is a fine
lad, and he has eaten less than either of us. Do
as you please, however: it is no business of
mine. I wash my hands of it.'
Jussomme was physically and morally a coward,
and he feared La Verdure, with whose
strength and desperation he was well acquainted.
Nevertheless, several times that afternoon he
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attempted to warn Gordon of his danger. But
when about to speak he always caught the eye of
La Verdure, who pointed significantly to his gun.
Once he fell back and addressed the cannibal.
`La Verdure,' said he, `when you have killed
him how will you conceal it? He started with
us, and we shall arrive without him: his body
will be found, and it will be discovered how he
came to his end. Besides, I shall be questioned.'
`If you hesitate an instant to swear to me by
the passion and crucifixion of our blessed Lord,
that you will never reveal what is about to happen,
I will kill you too. As to the rest, trust to
me: we will say that he was too weak to walk,
and that we were obliged to leave him. His
body will never be found. The wolves will take
care of that.'
Poor Jussomme sighed bitterly. He would
have given the world for an opportunity to speak
to our hero: but La Verdure stuck so close to
him that it was impossible. He feared, too, to
hear the report of the white savage's gun at every
moment. But La Verdure had formed his resolution
deliberately, and had no mind to run any
risk. He did not intend to kill the half breed till
night. No warning was needed, for Gordon understood
French more thoroughly, and spoke it
better than either of them. Reluctant to shed
blood, however justified by the circumstances, he
prayed fervently, though silently, that a deer or
some other animal might come in their way before
night. But none came. At sunset they stopped,
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collected wood, cleared away the snow, and cut
hay to sleep upon.
`How far is it to —, La Verdure?' said
Gordon.
`So far that I think you will never reach it,'
replied the other.
`I am very hungry, but I think I can hold out
some time yet.'
`I am hungry, too; but I shall not be tomorrow;—
at least, if you have flesh enough to feed me,'
he added in his own language.
`Say you so? Die, then, miscreant!' said
Gordon, firing his gun at him. The ball went
through La Verdure's head, and he fell and expired
without a groan.(6)
Jussomme, surprised at hearing our hero speak
French, and frightened at what had happened,
fell on his knees and begged for mercy. Gordon
quickly reassured him, telling him that he had
heard and understood all that had been said;
nevertheless, the Canadian slept little that night.
His nerves had received too severe a shock to
recover at once. Gordon's rest was little better:
he had been too short a time in the Indian country
to spill human blood with indifference. The
next morning, having dragged their feeble steps a
mile or two, they heard singing and the sound of
a drum. They proceeded in the direction of the
noise, and found that it came from three Algonquin
lodges. They were hospitably received by
the poor savages, who had hunted the deer and
moose to good purpose. Here they rested two
days to recruit their strength and give their swollen
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[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]
feet time to recover. The poor savages feasted
our travellers from morning till night. One of
them offered his daughter to Gordon for a wife,
before he departed, herself nothing loth, but the
proposal was declined.
In due time our hero and his attendant arrived
at Fort Douglass, situated at the confluence of the
Red and Assinneboin rivers. Gordon was received
by Mr Miles M'Donald, the deputy governor
of the colony, with much courtesy, and an apartment
was assigned him. He had the pleasure,
also, to find some of his Hohay kindred encamped
on the spot. They were not slow to exact of
him a considerable assortment of merchandise, on
account of his connexion with them; and they
asked him to go with them to their camp, an invitation
which he accepted with alacrity.
The reader must not suppose that the Forts of
the Indian country are constructed according to
the rules of Vauban. On the contrary, they are
mere stockades of pickets around the stores and
dwellings of the traders and their people. These
edifices are built of logs, rudely squared by the
axe and plastered with clay. They contain a
heterogeneous population, Indians, whites, and
their squaw wives and half breed children, dogs,
and in consequence, fleas innumerable. The
roofs are ornamented with dog sledges, and the
area inclosed by the buildings is occupied with
Canadian carts. Beside this, a trading fort is the
sanctuary of all evil odors.
At supper Gordon related to Mr M'Donald
how he had slain La Verdure. `You served him
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[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]
right,' said that dignitary, `and deserve the thanks
of the company. You have saved us from a
famine. His project of devouring you was in
strict keeping with his character. Why, man, his
voracity was incredible. I will relate an instance
of his gluttony. It is but one among many.
When I' —
But here he was interrupted by the entrance
of one of the engagés with a bowl of punch. The
compound was made with lime juice and high
wines. Both articles being easy of transportation
may be occasionally found beyond the frontier.
Gordon remained silent. But M'Donald filled
the glasses and proceeded with his story.
`Two years ago,' said he, `when I wintered at
Brandon House, La Verdure was one of my
people. In the spring our provisions gave out,
and we had fasted a day, when an Indian brought
me a fat swan. Here, said I, is enough for all
five of us, for one day at least.'
`I should think it was,' said Gordon. `A
swan, if I am not mistaken, weighs something like
twenty pounds.'
`Often more; but La Verdure appeared astonished
at my words. “Enough!” said he, “I
could eat it myself.” “Very well,” said I, “if you
can you shall; but mind, if you do not eat the
whole, I shall stop a week's wages.” He took me
at my word, and the fowl was skinned and boiled.
Well, sir, he sat down and ate, till I feared for
his life, and entreated him to stop; but he would
not desist while there was a mouthful left. When
he had finished he was unable to rise, and I
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[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]
thought he would die. However, he suffered no
inconvenience: the next morning he was as
well as ever.'
`I should have thought such an exploit impossible.
'
`Impossible! Sir, you can have no idea of his
prowess.'
`Yes I can, for I have witnessed, and had like
to have fallen a victim to it.'
`Good! He was a mutinous fellow, and set a
very bad example to our men in times of scarcity.
I for one, am very glad of what has come to pass.'
CHAPTER III.
Ils tuent tous; hommes, femmes et enfans. Pour se venger de l'époux
ils mettent l'épouse à mort. Ils n'ont aucun égard au sexe.
Charlevoix.
Three mornings after, an Assinneboin brother,
or cousin of our hero, for with the Dahcotah race
the words are synonymous, entered the fort, leading
an elegant horse. The animal was of the
wild breed of Mexico, and had probably been
stolen from the Pawnees or some other tribe of
the Missouri. It was richly caparisoned in the
fashion of the Hohays: the saddle was a cushion
of leather stuffed with buffalo hair, and
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ornamented with porcupines' quills, as were the
head stall and crupper also. The stirrups were
of wood, incased in parchment. A rope round
the under jaw supplied the place of a bit. Indeed,
the Hohays are too good cavaliers to need
such a piece of furniture.
`Come, my brother,' said Okhonkoiah (The
Quick) to Gordon. `I give you my best horse.
Get on his back and come with me to the camp.
A young man has just arrived, and he says that
the buffaloes are more plentiful than the stars in
the sky. Our people are going to pound them as
soon as we arrive. Come with me and see how
your brethren live.'
The bois brulé had neither forgotten his mother
tongue nor the manner of taking the buffalo; and
was therefore more desirous to review the scenes
of his childhood. He took his gun and a blanket,
and bidding Mr McDonald farewell for a while,
rode off, attended by his cousin and a dozen other
Hohays. After two days' riding across a bare
prairie, in which not a tree, nor a shrub, nor a
blade of grass could be seen, they came to the
end of their journey.
The camp of the Hohay nomades was pitched
in a little oasis in the midst of a boundless plain.
Toward the skirts of the wood, horses were
browsing on the elm branches. A few children,
at play on a slight rising ground, were the first to
perceive the approaching company. The alarm
was given, and mounted warriors were soon seen
riding to and fro, reconnoitering the party advancing.
Okhonkoiah dismounted, and made
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some signals with his robe that were perfectly
understood by the others, for they immediately
came forward to meet them, and all rode into the
camp together. Dogs barked and women scolded,
while the elders looked on in silence. Not a
few children screamed with affright at beholding
Gordon's complexion, and ran to their mothers
for protection.(7)
Having given the horses in charge to the women,
Okhonkoiah led the way to his lodge. It
was such a tent as has been described in a previous
note, and on it were painted certain hieroglyphics,
which we shall not be at the pains to
decypher. There were an hundred and fifty
such dwellings in the camp.
A buffalo robe was spread for the visitor to sit
upon, and his moccasins were taken off as he sat,
by his cousin's wife. Presently a wrinkled old
woman entered, and placing her hands on his
head, cried aloud, and wept bitterly. The substance
of her lament was the death of her daughter.
Anon her tears ceased to flow, and her
notes became joyful. She had now a son, she
said, to take care of her in her old age; to provide
meat, and steal horses for her. On inquiring who
this old lady might be, Gordon was informed that
she was his grandmother.
A dog was killed, and when its hair had been
singed off, it was cooked and set before our hero
and his friends. Before he had swallowed three
mouthfuls of this savory repast, he was summoned
away to a feast in another lodge, and then to
another, and another, and another. He who
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should take anything away from a table in New
York or Boston, would be thought guilty of gross
ill manners; but in Hohay lodges the standard of
good breeding being, in this particular, exactly the
reverse, Gordon was obliged to carry off all he
could not eat. And so passed the time, till he
was near fainting from the excess of Indian hospitality,
for he could not decline eating without
giving great offence. At last, being admonished
to be in readiness for the hunt that was to take
place the next morning, he was suffered to rest as
well as the night-mare would let him.
The women had built a small enclosure of
sticks and brushwood on the verge of the encampment,
leaving a space open on one side, just wide
enough to allow a buffalo to enter. From this
opening diverged two rows of stakes, planted a
few feet apart, and extending more than a mile.
On the top of each was placed a large sod. By
this simple contrivance are the Hohays and wandering
Sioux accustomed to take the buffalo.
At day break the camp was all astir. The
men mounted, some armed with guns, but more
with bows and arrows. The morning was clear
and frosty, just cold enough to make a little exercise
comfortable. As they rode along Gordon
obtained the praise of his companions. `Eoopee!'[4]
they cried, `Look at him! Look at him! How
he rides! He is no fool. He knows almost as
much as a Hohay!'
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In about an hour they came to a small herd of
wild cattle, quietly turning up the snow with their
noses, and cropping the grass beneath. The
hunters now separated, and making a careful circuit
surrounded them. As soon as the animals
took to flight the Indians closed upon them, and
drove them between the palisades before mentioned.
Frightened by the sods on the stakes,
and urged by the riders in the rear, they plunged
onward toward the pound at the end of the avenue.
None of them attempted to escape laterally;
such is the stupidity of the animal. As they
drew near the enclosure the pursuers ceased to
press them, and they entered, one by one. When
they were all within, the butchery began. Men
started up on all sides, and bullets and arrows
were discharged in quick succession. Thus
baited, and confused by the shouts of the hunters
and the reports of fire arms, they ran round and
round in utter amazement, till they were all killed.
Upwards of an hundred were thus slain, for they
did not try to break through the pound, which
they might easily have done.
Then came the squaws, with horses and dog
sledges,(8) and cut up the slaughtered animals.
A few pounds were taken from the choicest parts
of each carcass, the dogs were suffered to feast,
and the remainder was abandoned to the wolves
that were patiently waiting around. Such is the
economy of Indians!
In a few days when all was eaten up, another
hunt took place. This was a bolder and more
manly sport than the first, requiring no little
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dexterity and horsemanship, and not unattended with
danger. The buffalo, when wounded, commonly
turns upon its pursuer, who must move quickly to
escape from its horns. On this occasion several
violent falls took place, yet none were killed or
seriously injured. The worst that the discomfited
cavaliers underwent, was the ridicule of their companions.
Feats of archery were exhibited that
excited Gordon's admiration. In more than one
instance he saw an arrow driven through and
through the body of a buffalo wing on its way as
though it had not left a death behind.
When the chase was over the hunters divided
into two parties, of which one returned to the
camp and the other rode farther into the prairie,
to see if any tracks of an enemy could be discerned.
Our hero, fatigued with the exercise he had
taken, laid himself down and slept soundly. He
was awakened by a terrible uproar. An hundred
voices were crying, `A Dahcotah woman! A
Dahcotah woman!' Gordon rose and ran to the
spot. A woman stood in the midst of a crowd of
Hohays, who eyed her with angry and threatening
glances. They all spoke together, and it was
with some difficulty that the bois brulé could obtain
silence.
When he had at last persuaded them to speak
one at a time, an old Hohay stepped forward.
`Woman,' said he, `who is your husband.'
`I am the wife of Wawnahton,' replied the
squaw.
At that hated name the clamor redoubled, for
of all men, Wawnahton was the most feared by the
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Hohays. The women unsheathed their knives,
and would have immolated the prisoner on the
spot had they not been restrained by the men.
`Metah Kodah,' (my comrade) said Gordon
aside, to one of those who had remained in the
prairie after the hunt, `where did you find this
woman?'
`We saw three persons afar off, and gave them
chace. Two were men and well mounted.
They made their escape, but we caught the
squaw. Do you want her for a wife, my brother?'
`No.'
`My father,' said Gordon to the ancient who
was interrogating the wife of Wawnahton, `a woman
is a small gift. I am your son. All here
are my brethren. Give this woman to me?'
Unable to comprehend his motive, all looked on
him with surprise. `Do you want a wife?' they
cried. `If you do, here are an hundred of the
daughters of your own people, younger and handsomer,
that you may take. Why do you ask for
this woman, the wife of our worst enemy?'
`I do not want to make her my wife. I do
not want a wife at all. But I do not wish to see
her blood spilled. Have charity for her, my
brethren. She is but a woman, and cannot hurt
you.'
`Are you mad?' they answered. `If she can
kill none of us herself she may have children who
will. Is she not the wife of him whose hand is
reddest with the blood of the Hohays?'
`He slew my brother!' cried an ill favored
savage, forcing his way through the crowd,
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tomahawk in hand. `He slew my brother, and she
shall die for it.'
And the debate promised to terminate fatally
for the poor squaw, who had till now stood silent,
excepting when questioned. Knives were drawn
and hatchets uplifted. But Gordon snatched an
axe from one of the bystanders, and thrust himself
between the woman and her enemies. `Hear
me,' he cried, `If you kill this prisoner, you
shall kill your brother also. Give her to me, for
I tell you she shall not be hurt. I will pay for
her when I return to the fort.'
`Brother,' said Okhonkoiah, `let there be no
strife between us. Take the woman and do what
you please with her. She is yours.'
And he turned round and harangued the crowd,
saying that his kinsman was too young a person
to be expected to know so much as a Hohay.
He had moreover lived too long among `the people
with hats,' and had imbibed their foolish notions.
Therefore his ignorance was to be
excused.
Gordon had in the meanwhile desired that his
horse might be saddled and brought to him.
This done, he desired the wife of Wawnahton to
mount. `What do you mean?' said Okhonkoiah,
`Will you ruin the animal? Do you not know
that a horse loses his speed as soon as a woman
mounts him?'
Gordon was well aware of this superstition, but
he feared a change in the popular opinion too
much, to waste time in argument. He sprung on
the horse before the lady, and hastened out of the
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camp. He asked her where she wished to go,
and shaped his course according to her direction.
She informed him that she was going on a visit
from one Siou camp to another, in company with
two of her brothers, (cousins) when they were
seen and chased by the Hohays. Finding that
her steed could not keep up with them; for the
Sioux never suffer a woman to ride a good horse
for the reason above alluded to; they left her to
her fate.
When they had ridden three leagues from the
camp the bois brulé dismounted. `Make the
best of your way home,' he said. `You have no
need of a guide, and you cannot be overtaken, for
you sit on a horse that has no equal in the camp
you have left.' He then turned, and retraced his
way back.
When he arrived he was not greeted with
smiles. Those who had lost friends or relations
by the hands of the Sioux, reproached him with
having frustrated their designs of vengeance. Little
was wanted to turn their rage on him, but
having a very clear comprehension of Indian character,
he was silent, and the cloud soon passed
away.
After passing a month with his red kindred, he
returned to Fort Douglass, and when the ice
broke up, he ascended the Red river to Pembinaw.
eaf381.n4[4] An exclamation of surprise, having no particular
meaning.
-- 117 --
CHAPTER IV.
`The dial spake not; but it made shrewd signs,
And pointed full upon the stroke of murder.'
[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]
In the mean time Mr Semple received the
appointment of Governor of Ossinneboia, and
Duncan Cameron was furnished by Lord Selkirk
with funds wherewith to purvey seed and implements
of agriculture for the use of the colonists.
Yet the summer was far advanced before all was
in readiness for departure.
Flora had lost her gaiety, but not her hopes.
Cavenny visited her often, and through him she
heard from Gordon. The young Irishman was
warmly attached to our hero and took good care
of his interests. He attended Flora to the places
where she went in compliance with her father's
wishes, and lost no opportunity to sound his
friend's praises in her ear.
Among Flora's admirers was a partner of the
Northwest Company, named M'Leod. This man
was so smitten, that in less than a week from their
introduction to each other, he made formal proposals
to her father for her hand. The Cameron
approved of his suit, but referred him to Flora.
She thanked him for his good opinion, but was
sorry to be obliged to reject his offer. And when
-- 118 --
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pressed for her reasons, she told him with her
natural frankness that her heart was already given
to another.
M'Leod was a man of black and violent passions,
and he could not forgive the slight. Never
having heard of Gordon's suit, and seeing Cavenny
assiduous in his attentions, he concluded
that he was indebted to the Irishman for his failure.
He had `wintered' in opposition to Cavenny,
and had found his own skill inadequate to
the contest. Perhaps no two Indian traders ever
opposed each other long without being personal
enemies. Cavenny had foiled M'Leod in his
business, and was therefore hated by him. Injuries
in trade M'Leod might have forgiven, but
this imaginary wrong rankled in his breast, and
he resolved that if an opportunity should offer
when both would be beyond the reach of law, he
would so dispose of his rival that he should never
again cross his path in life.
Governor Semple becoming from the nature of
his employ more intimate with Cameron, exhausted
all the rhetoric of which he was master
to persuade him to unite Flora with our hero.
The old man listened patiently to the worthy
Governor, and readily admitted that Gordon was
worthy of all praise, but on the point in question
he was adamant.
Cameron fell sick, and the business of the Colony
and Company detained Governor Semple
long. But M'Leod had already gone to his post,
and the contending parties who had so far abstained
from open violence now came to blows.
-- 119 --
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Blood was shed, and trading forts were taken and
retaken. The colonists of Ossinneboia were molested
in every possible manner by the agents of
the Northwest Company, who also attempted to
excite the Indians to massacre the settlers. Happily,
in this they failed. A large body of the
erratic half breeds and gens libres was subsidised
on either side, and officers were appointed under
whose command these reprobates might assemble
and act. The partners of the two companies
wore uniforms, and assumed to be his majesty's
officers; well knowing that such claims commanded
the respect of the Indians. M'Leod in especial,
went farther. He claimed to be a magistrate, and
issued warrants under his sign manual for the apprehension
of the most active partizans of the
Hudson's Bay Company. Those he made prisoners
in this manner were either induced to
change their service by threats and bribery, or
sent to Montreal; ostensibly to be tried for alleged
offences, but in reality to get them out of the
way.(9)
Cavenny started for his post a short time after
M'Leod. The latter was soon apprised of his
proceedings, and resolved to settle all scores. He
had with him a subordinate agent named Reinhard,
a man who had served in the Muron regiment
in the late war between the United States
and Great Britain. M'Leod pitched upon this
fellow as a fit instrument to execute his purposes.
He gave him minute instructions, and ordered him
to go and meet Cavenny before he should arrive
at his post.
-- 120 --
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Reinhard met Cavenny at Lake Winnepeg,
and told him, that shocked by the violence of the
Northwest Company, of which he had frequently
been a witness, he had resolved to leave its employ
and offer his services to Lord Selkirk. Cavenny
did not scruple to engage him, but he soon
had good cause to repent his indiscretion.
Reinhard immediately set himself to work to
corrupt Cavenny's engagés, and with two of them
he succeeded perfectly. By promising that they
should have higher wages, and be sent to a better
post, he persuaded them not only to desert from
their bourgeois, but to co-operate in measures to
secure his person. The other three he sounded,
but receiving unsatisfactory answers, he thought
it most prudent to disclose his intentions no further.
Toward evening Angé and Le Vasseur, the
two conspirators, did all in their power to irritate
Cavenny; at no time a difficult task, for the Irish
blood was warm in his veins. They repeatedly
handled their oars so as to `catch crabs,' as sailors
term it. When rebuked by their principal,
they behaved with the utmost insolence. At last,
Le Vasseur let his oar fall overboard, and it became
necessary for the boat to drop an hundred
yards down stream to recover it. The Irishman
lost patience.
`If that happens again, Le Vasseur,' said he,
`I will deduct a day's wages from your account.'
`You may do it now, if you like. My wages
are small, but Heaven be praised, I can get better
when I please.'
-- 121 --
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`Rogue! If you have any regard for your
bones do not repeat that. If you speak so to me
again, I will beat you to a mummy.'
`We are but poor engagés, Monsieur Cavenny,'
said Angé, `but we will not suffer ourselves to be
beaten, for all that. Our written engagements do
not stipulate that blows shall be inflicted, when we
fail in our duty. Take what advantage the law
allows you; you shall take no other.'
Cavenny snatched one of the boat poles, and
raised it to strike the speaker. But Le Vasseur,
who sat behind him, dropped his oar and seized
him by the elbows, and Angé reared his oar to
return the intended compliment.
`Dogs! rascals! villains!' cried the Irishman,
shaking himself clear of Le Vasseur; wait till
we get ashore, and I will make you wish yourselves
at Quebec. Ho! Le Gros, put ashore instantly,—
instantly.'
The steersman obeyed, and the whole party
debarked. `Now you rascals,' said Cavenny,
`I will teach you how to speak to your bourgeois.
Come on!'
The other boatmen expostulated. The mutineers
stood sullen and silent, and seemed afraid to
begin. `If you fear the penalties of the law provided
for such cases,' said Cavenny, `I give you
my word I will take no advantage of them, whether
you conquer me or not. Come, let us make
an end of it.'
Reinhard now spoke. `Monsieur Cavenny,'
said he, `you cannot but get the worst of it.
-- 122 --
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They are two to one. Any man might be afraid
of such odds.'
These words had their intended effect. Cavenny
furiously struck Le Vasseur a stunning
blow. The battle now raged in bloody earnest.
The engagés showed no lack of strength or courage,
but they could not contend against the
Irishman's science. He `floored' them as fast
as they could rise, and in ten minutes they were
obliged to give in.
`There, you rascal,' said Cavenny, `I trust I
shall have no more trouble with you. It is a pity
there is no law in this country to take care of
such fellows. But I will have the respect and
obedience that is my due, even if I am obliged to
soil my hands. Return to your duty, and for this
time all shall be forgiven, but beware how you
provoke me again.'
The sun had now set beyond
`Vast savannas where the wandering eye,
Unfix'd, is in a verdant ocean lost.'
The wolves had begun their nightly howlings,
and the song of the whip-poor-will had commenced.
It was too dark to proceed any farther, so
Cavenny ordered his steersman to land. His
tent was pitched, and a huge fire was made.
The kind hearted Irishman consoled the men he
had beaten with a dram, which they accepted
with apparent thankfulness.
In the morning Reinhard and the two mutineers
were missing. They did not take leave
empty handed. The bold visage of Cavenny
was somewhat blanked at this disaster, but he
-- 123 --
[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]
soon recovered his good humor. `Well,' he
said, `at any rate I can steer the boat myself, and
we have three oars left to take us to Fort Douglass.
I wish however that we could see some
Indians; I could then send to Mr M'Donald for a
reinforcement. But never mind; `care killed a
cat;' and he sung
`O! love is the sowl of a nate Irishman,' &c.
In the mean time Reinhard and the deserters
joined M'Leod. That worthy rebuked his deputy
in harsh terms. `What did I send you to
Cavenny for?' said he. If he had been killed in
the scuffle, it would have been done in self defence.
You have let slip a fine opportunity to
take him.'
`But consider, Sir, that I had but two men on
my side, and the other three would have taken
his part. If I had taken a share of the battle, and
given him an unlucky blow, I doubt if I could
have kept my neck out of a halter. I do not
mean that I had any inclination to dispose of him
in that manner. I would not do such a thing on
any account, unless compelled. Besides, Cavenny
is not so easily managed. I wish you had seen
how he beat the two Canadians.'
After some further consultation, Angé and Le
Vasseur were called. M'Leod took their deposition,
and issued a warrant to secure the body of
Michael Cavenny for an assault and battery, by
him committed on two of his majesty's liege subjects,
&c. &c. This precious document was
signed by M'Leod in his assumed capacity of
Justice of the Peace for the Indian country.
-- 124 --
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For the purpose of serving the warrant, Cuthbert
Grant, a half breed well known in the Northwest,
was appointed a constable. A number of Indians
and bois brulés were called upon to assist, and to
prevent mistakes, M'Leod resolved to attend in
person. A few birch canoes were procured, and
the whole posse paddled down the river.
Cavenny had stopped his boat at a convenient
place, and gone after a heard of buffaloes that were
grazing a short distance from the river. On his
return he was seized, pinioned, and conducted
before the soi disant Major.
He offered no resistance, nor did he manifest
any resentment, though reviled and treated with
the utmost indignity by the barbarians into whose
hands he had fallen. `Poor fellows,' said he,
`they know not what they are about.' When
brought into the presence of M'Leod, who was
dressed in a full suit of uniform, he did not wait
for that dignitary to speak. Confronting him
boldly, he drew himself up to his full height
and thus addressed him. `I demand to know on
what authority I am arrested, and for what offence?
'
`Show the prisoner the warrant,' said M'Leod
to Reinhard, who was also dressed à la militaire,
and wore a sword of portentous length.
The warrant was exhibited, fairly engrossed on
a sheet of parchment. Beside the imputation of
assault and battery, it charged Cavenny with having
instigated divers Chippeway Indians to rob
and murder certain of the lieges. It was signed
-- 125 --
[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]
— M'Leod, J. P. for the Indian country, and
Major in the Royal Canadian Corps of Voyageurs.
`M'Leod,' said Cavenny, `what needs this
farce, this vile abuse of the name of law? Since
when has this Royal Voyageur Corps been organized,
and from whom did you receive the
appointment of major or magistrate? You well
know that you are neither a soldier nor a civil
officer. You must be aware that when we meet
where the laws are in force we must change
places. Make an end of this child's play and
tell me what you intend to do, and how long I am
to be kept in confinement. But why need I ask
your motives? Your trade has suffered through
me, and you fear that it will again, and therefore
you will rid yourself of my opposition by violence.
I will tell you a better way to dispose of me.
Unbind my arms, tell that rascal there to lend me
his sword, and draw your own.'
`Rest assured, Michael Cavenny,' replied
M'Leod, `that I have sufficient authority for
what I do. I will not allow it to be questioned.
However, for the satisfaction of those present, I
will say that my powers are derived from his
Excellency the Governor General of the Canadas.
The idea of fighting with a prisoner charged
with high crimes and misdemeanors is too absurd
to deserve a moment's consideration. You must
accompany me till measures can be taken to send
you to Montreal for trial. An exact inventory
shall be taken of your goods and effects, at which
you may be present, if you please. After the
outrages committed by members of the Hudson's
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[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]
Bay Company, (of which some present have been
witnesses) I should be inexcusable to suffer you
to remain at large. In this course it is my zeal
for the public good and my duty as an organ of
the law that actuates me, and not the fear of your
opposition as you falsely and scandalously assert.
You will not dance with Miss Cameron this winter,
' he added, drawing near the prisoner, and
speaking so low as to be heard by him only.
Cavenny could contain his wrath no longer.
`Villain,' he cried, `it is a burning shame that a
name so pure should be profaned by the lips of
such a coward and ruffian. Dog! do your worst
now, for when we meet on equal terms your time
will be short. Take your inventory! your scoundrelly
associates will be your fittest witnesses.
Do as you please with me. Henceforth I will
not degrade myself by exchanging a word with
you.'
In a few minutes Cavenny's boat was manned,
and M'Leod gave orders to move up the river.
A canoe was prepared to convey the prisoner,
who, still bound, was given in custody to Angé
and Le Vasseur. Before starting M'Leod took
these men aside.
`You will follow us to the encampment,' he
said, `but keep out of sight, for the prisoner has
a tongue that may seduce some of the men from
their duty. He may try to escape from you.'
`We will take care that he does not succeed,'
said Le Vasseur.
`Ay, but to be more sure, take your guns with
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[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]
you. If he offers any violence it is your duty to
resist, whatever the consequence may be.'
`But if we should use our guns,' said Angé,
`we shall be hanged.'
`No fear of that. No one will ever hear of it.
If there should be any investigation I will bear
you out in what you may do in the discharge of
your duty, at all events.'
`How are we to treat him if he remains quiet?'
`Why he has beaten and disgraced you, but I
would not recommend any harshness. But you
are not obliged to bear any abuse from him.'
`Well Monsieur, we will do the best we can.'
`Remain where you are half an hour and then
follow us. If you behave properly you shall not
miss a handsome reward.'
He then started with his banditti, and the Canadians
remained behind with their prisoner.
CHAPTER V.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Richard III.
In thinking that the sense of shame for the
chastisement they had received, and the hope of
reward, would silence all moral feeling in Angé
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[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]
and Le Vasseur, M'Leod deceived himself. They
were weak, ignorant men, but not so depraved as
to view the crime of murder without horror.
`Angé, what do you think of what Monsieur
the Major has been saying?' said Le Vasseur.
`Think? I scarcely know what to think. I
believe we have done wrong to listen to that accursed
villain, Reinhard.'
`And our new bourgeois is no better.'
`It is clear that he wants us to kill Monsieur Cavenny.
But I will have nothing to do with it.
He may put his own neck into a collar if he
pleases, but he shall not mine.'
`Nor mine neither. What say you, Angé?
Shall we try to make peace with our Irish bourgeois?
I do not believe that M'Leod will ever reward
us as Reinhard promised.'
`Nor do I. He thinks so little of committing
murder and robbery, that I verily believe he may
cheat us.'
`And he may do by us as he wishes us to do by
Monsieur Cavenny, to be safe from our evidence.
Sainte Vierge! I will go no farther in this. I
will speak to the Irishman directly.'
`Monsieur Cavenny,' said he, touching his cap
respectfully, `I believe we have wronged you.
If you have beaten us, we provoked you to
it. If you know how we can make you amends,
say so, and it shall be done.'
Cavenny cast on him a look of utter contempt,
but did not reply.
`Monsieur,' said Angé, `we should not have
done as we have, if Reinhard had not tempted
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[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]
us. But we never meant to go this length. Take
us back, and stop all our wages, if you please.'
`And now,' replied Cavenny, resuming his natural
gaiety, `that you have done me all the harm
you can, like two honest fellows, as you are, you
resolve to do no more.'
`But your life is in danger, and we would
not be guilty of your blood. Fly then to Fort
Douglas with us, and there you will be safe.'
`Your master, you poor devil, dares not hurt a
hair of my head. I shall get more out of him and
his company, by law, than I can make in the
trade. So, my fine fellows, I advise you to obey
the orders of your new bourgeois.'
The men were confounded by this reply. They
consulted together, and then again endeavored to
persuade the Irishman to escape. But apprehending
nothing more than a short detention, he
thought it his duty to give his company a legal
advantage over the Northwest. He returned a
peremptory refusal to their proposals.
A little after sundown, they arrived at M'Leod's
encampment. The ruffian hastened to the water
side, and was highly enraged at seeing Cavenny.
He took the boatmen apart, `Did I not tell you,'
he said, `what to do if he attempted to escape?'
`But he has made no such attempt,' said they.
`Do you argue with me?' said M'Leod, losing
temper. `I will try to teach you your duty better.
' And with his sheathed sword he beat the
Canadians for their humanity. (10)
What were the feelings of this wicked man that
night, we do not presume to divine. If he felt
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[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]
any remorse for what he had done, or compunction
for what he was about to do, it never appeared
in his subsequent conduct. When at last he
slept, his slumbers were broken by dreams of
horror. He was heard to groan heavily, and
towards morning he called on Reinhard. That
miscreant entered the tent, and found him sitting
upright. A cold clammy sweat stood on his
brow, his hands were fast clenched, and his eyes
were fixed on vacancy. `O! my friend,' he exclaimed,
with the familiarity of guilt, `stay with
me. Stay with me. Not for worlds would I pass
such another night. Reach me that case.' Reinhard
obeyed, and his principal poured out a large
glass of spirits, and drank it off undiluted.
`Are you going to get drunk, Monsieur?' said
the Muron. `Cheer up, and tell me what has
frightened you.'
`Who told you that I was frightened? But I
have had a frightful dream. I thought I was
standing at the altar with Flora Cameron, and the
priest had begun to repeat the ceremony. But
when I offered her my hand, she started back,
and said that there was blood upon it. I looked,
and indeed it was dripping with crimson. The
scene changed, and I stood at the bar with you,
Reinhard. Our wrists were chained together,
and Cavenny, in his shroud, bore witness against
us. Then we stood upon a scaffold, and the executioner
told us that we had but five minutes to
live. Nature could bear no more, and I awoke.'
Reinhard laughed. `If it should be necessary
to resort to severe measures,' he said, `I will
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warrant that he will never rise in evidence against us
till the day of judgment, and that is so far off that
I believe it will never arrive. Cheer up, Sir, this
is weak and unmanly.'
We will not record the blasphemous speech of
these reprobates, nor the schemes of guilt, which
they concerted. The camp was roused at
dawn. Notwithstanding the excess of his potations,
M'Leod showed no signs of intoxication.
He was indeed deadly pale, but his voice
did not falter. He called before him a Chippeway
Indian, a noted desperado retained by the
Northwest Company. To this man he spoke in
the Chippeway tongue, and the savage grunted
assent to his instructions. M'Leod then turned
to his prisoner.
`Mr Cavenny,' said he, `I have been thinking
that it would subject you to unnecessary hardship,
to detain you in this country all winter, and have
therefore concluded to send you to Montreal.
There you may find bail for your appearance before
a competent tribunal, as your trial cannot
take place till the witnesses arrive next spring.
There is your canoe, Mr Cavenny. You will go
under the charge of Constable Reinhard, and Indian
Joe. They have orders to treat you with
all the consideration consistent with your safe custody.
I wish you a pleasant journey, Sir.'
Cavenny looked daggers at him, but did not
speak. He regarded the canoe, and the conviction
that his death was intended flashed on his
mind. It was old and shattered, and he saw that
no provision, nor any of his baggage, had been put
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on board. But he arranged his ideas with great
rapidity. He thought they would not attempt
his life before night, and resolved to endeavor to
escape, the first time they put ashore. If he could
get possession of the Indian's gun, he would not
fear them; and even if he could not succeed in
this, he thought, that provided he could get out
of gun-shot, he could distance them both, and so
was little concerned for the event. M'Leod perceived
that his suspicions were awakened.
`I see that you think yourself hardly used, Mr
Cavenny,' said he. `Well, the consciousness of
having done my duty must be my consolation.
The Indian will mend the canoe when you encamp
to-night; and he is an excellent hunter.
You will not starve on the way.'
Cavenny embarked with the two savages, who
exchanged ominous glances. A rapid current
soon swept them out of sight of the encampment.
The canoe leaked, and was fast filling, when,
coming to a sand bar, Reinhard proposed to the
Indian to stop and bale it out.
The spot was about a league from the camp
they had left. Seeing that he had no chance of
escape, as the Indian held his gun in his hand,
Cavenny sat down near Reinhard, who was busy
about the canoe. The red man caught the
Muron's eye, and pointed to his gun. The latter
nodded to him. Placing his thumb on the dog,
that the prisoner might not hear the noise of cocking,
he made ready, and fired at Cavenny's back.
The muzzle was so near, that the Irishman's
blanket coat was blackened and scorched by the
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explosion. The ball passed through his body,
but he did not fall. He turned and grappled his
assassin, with the desperate strength of a dying
man. Grasping the Indian by the throat, he hurled
him to the earth with great violence, confining
his arms by the pressure of his knees. Seeing
his confederate thus worsted, Reinhard advanced,
drew his sword, and deliberately plunged
it three times into Cavenny's back. The Irishman's
grasp relaxed, his eyes glared, and he rolled
off his half strangled foe. Reinhard took him
by the feet and dragged him to the river, his long
black hair trailing in his own blood. Reader, this
is no fiction. Thus died Michael Cavenny.
As soon as the Indian had recovered his breath,
he set the canoe adrift, and the murderers started
to join their principal by land. In a few minutes
they reached the camp. (11) Not a word was
spoken on either side, nor did any one ask a question
relative to the fate of the prisoner. But the
chief ordered the captured boat to be unloaded,
and distributed the personal effects of the deceased
among his followers. The Chippeway was
rewarded for his share of the transaction, with
Cavenny's fowling piece, and Reinhard received
his linen and silver mounted pistols. M'Leod reserved
nothing for himself. Ruthless as he was,
he had too much pride to share in the plunder of
his victim. The only redeeming trait in his character
that we are able to record, was a scrupulous
integrity in matters of business. Perhaps,
had he passed his life where the laws are
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regarded, he might have passed through life with an unblemished
reputation.
In the Irishman's port-folio he found many
papers. One of them contained a lock of bright
yellow hair, and a copy of verses, probably writen
by Cavenny himself, for they were in keeping
with his gay but not ungenerous character. On
the back of the paper were the words, `N'oublie
jamais,' and the text was inscribed `To Laura.'
It ran thus:
`And canst thou then so soon forget
The day, the hour, when last we met?
When first my tongue essay'd to tell
A truth already proved too well,
That every glance and every tone
Of mine already had made known?
Then heavenly bright those eyes did shine,
At each persuasive word of mine.
Then, Laura, did thy voice approve
My softly whisper'd tale of love.
Then, for thy sake, it bade me wear
This little tress of golden hair;
And said, that sooner should the sun
His wonted course forget to run,
Than Laura should unmindful prove,
Of plighted faith — of mutual love.
`But now thou say'st those sun-bright charms
Must bless a richer lover's arms;
That words like those were spoken then,
I never must repeat again.
'Tis well — I never will repine
For any love as light as thine;
The prize I have so easy lost,
Is but a woman's heart at most;
My loss I may with ease repair,
For many a maid is quite as fair.
But no — I never will again
Put faith in aught so frail and vain;
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I never will again believe
A sex so practised to deceive;
For woman's smile, and woman's sigh,
I'll care not— no, indeed, not I.
One pang thy falsehood must impart,
But sparkling wine shall ease the smart.
`Yet think not that my heart is steel;
Think not that I could never feel.
How long I lov'd thee, and how well,
I cannot— may not — will not tell.
'Tis past — my dream of bliss is o'er —
I lov'd as I shall love no more;
No other e'er again shall bind,
In chains so strong, my manly mind.
Adieu! and may'st thou never know
A moment's care, a moment's wo.
The passion in my breast that burn'd,
To pity, not to hate, is turn'd.
I cast behind each fond regret,
But still, I never can forget
The hope that bound me like a spell.
Forever, false as fair, farewell!'
M'Leod read the lines, and then threw them,
and the hair, into the fire. But he found other
documents thatinterested him more nearly. These
were Gordon's part of a correspondence between
him and Cavenny, in which all the circumstances
of his suit to Flora Cameron, and the death of La
Verdure, were detailed at full length. These letters
had been sent to the Irishman, by couriers
bearing despatches to the Deputy Governor.
M'Leod groaned with vexation, and bit his lips
till the blood came, as he read and found that he
had overlooked a real rival, and sacrificed an
imaginary one. But it is but the `premier pas
qui coute,' and having commenced his career of
crime, he began to digest a plan to get Gordon
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into his power. He thought that the death of La
Verdure would furnish a sufficient pretext.
For this purpose he soon after rode south till
he came to a Dahcotah camp, where he had an
interview with Wawnahton. He advised the Siou
chief to assemble his people, and attack the Hudson's
Bay Company's fort and colony at Pembinaw.
By so doing, M'Leod told him he would
greatly injure his natural enemies the Chippeways,
who were there furnished with arms and
ammunition. He held up the plunder of the place
as a farther inducement, and above all, he promised
Wawnahton a quantity of ardent spirits in the
event of his success. (12)
These arguments were irresistible. The Dahcotah
promised, and what he promised he performed.
He collected two hundred men, and set
forth to plunder and destroy the devoted colony
of Ossinneboia.
But the colonists were apprised of their danger
by a party of Chippeways, who had been hunting
in the plains, and had fled before the Sioux. Preparations
were instantly made to repel the attack.
The women and children took refuge in the fort.
Ammunition was served out to the men and a
party of Chippeways were summoned to aid in
the defence. When, therefore, the Dahcotahs
showed themselves on the opposite bank of the
river, they were greeted with a volley that killed
three of their best men, and wounded several
more. Discouraged by this, with true Indian caution,
they retired out of gun-shot.
M'Leod, who had come thither painted and dis
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guised as an Indian, in hopes of directing the rage
of the savage warriors upon Gordon, gnashed his
teeth for very spite. He saw that the blow had
failed, and advised Wawnahton to draw his party
off, and wait for a fitter opportunity. But his
counsel was not heeded.
The uncle of the chief is a man as insensible to
fear as the blade of his own knife. His name
cannot be written, but translated it means `He
who shoots his enemy in the branches of a tree,'
and he acquired it by killing a Chippeway in that
manner. His silence and sullenness on ordinary
occasions have procured him the title of Le Boudard,
from the French of the country. He is commonly
seen walking about like a chafed bear,
speaking to no one, and scarcely answering, when
addressed. But in times of danger, his ferocity
almost amounts to insanity. He it was who answered
M'Leod.
`These Khahkhahtons[5] shall know that the
Dahcotahs are men,' he said. `I will throw away
my body to prove it. Show me where the river
may be passed with least danger.'
M'Leod pointed to a bend in the river where
the steepness of the banks might conceal a swimmer.
`And now; dog of an Englishman, who hast
caused our people to die, shew me where is the
most danger.'
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`As to that, you can see it as well as I. There
is the enemy in front of you.'
`Come then,' said the Boudard, throwing off all
his clothing, `come with me and let it be seen
which has the strongest heart, the Dahcotah or
the man with a hat.'
This proposal M'Leod very reasonably declined.
But Wawnahton also stripped, declaring
that his dekshee (uncle) should not surpass him
in bravery. The two Indians then walked coolly
to the bank, and swam over in the face of the enemy,
holding their bows over their heads, that the
strings might not be wetted.
When the Chippeways saw the Sioux in the
water, they raised a cry of surprise and admiration.
`They honored such determined scorn of
life,' and did not fire. The colonists were retrained
by no such principles. They levelled their
guns, and had not Gordon, who was invested with
the temporary command, forbidden them, they
would have shot the desperadoes. They came
ashore and boldly advanced to within a bow's
length of the white men. `Look at me,' cried
the Boudard, `you now know what a man is.'
`Brave men,' said Gordon, `what has induced
you to attack people who have never injured you?
Why have you risked your lives so rashly?'
`You frighten the buffaloes out of the prairies,
and you furnish our enemies with the means to
destroy us,' replied Wawnahton. `But who are
you that speak our language like one of us, and
are yet in arms by the side of the Chippeways?'
`I am a Hohay, and the grandson of Chuntay
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Paytah. Is it wonderful that I should speak the
language of my mother?'
The Dahcotah uttered an exclamation of joy,
and held out his hand to Gordon. Explanations
ensued, and each was beginning to be better
pleased with the other, when a clamor from the
crowd attracted their attention.
While their dialogue was going on, the Boudard
had walked through the ranks of his enemies,
who gave way and opened a passage for him.
As he turned the corner of one of the log huts he
became aware of a Chippeway, levelling a gun at
him. Drawing an arrow to the head, the Boudard
rushed upon the treacherous foe and drove him
into a corner. Getting so close as to make it impossible
for the Chippeway to use his gun, the
Dahcotah stood, with his shaft trembling on the
string, and foaming with rage like a wild beast.
In this posture he vaunted of his own valor and
reviled his prisoner, loading him with all the opprobrious
epithets in the Siou tongue. The other
Chippeways had now recovered from their first
surprise and begun to handle their weapons, when
Wawnahton and Gordon interposed. At the command,
or rather request of the former, the Boudard
released his prisoner, and to prevent further
collision Gordon conducted the two Dahcotahs
into his own house.
The motive of the intended attack was revealed
to Gordon, and he declared his intention to cross
the river and punish its instigator with his own
hand. To this end, after feasting his guests
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bountifully, he armed himself and swam over with
them.
But in the mean while, M'Leod observed that
the countenances of his swarthy comrades did not
indicate friendly feelings toward him; and he
heard them express their indignation at him
whose counsels had caused the fall of their brethren.
One of the braves said, moreover, that if
Wawnahton and the Boudard should not return
in safety, the Sagandoshee (Eglishman) should
pay for all. Such an event was hardly to be expected,
and while the attention of the Dahcotahs
was absorbed by what was passing on the opposite
bank, M'Leod stealthily withdrew. He
mounted his horse, and did not draw bridle till
he was far out of the reach of pursuit. When,
therefore, Gordon sought him among the Dahcotahs,
he was not to be found, and the young man
returned wet and discontented to his abode.
eaf381.n5[5] People of the Rapids. The Sioux name for the Chippeways.
CHAPTER VI.
Red is the cup they drink; but not with wine:
Awake, and watch to-night! or see no morning shine.
Gertrude of Wyoming.
Gordon had built a log dwelling for the reception
of Cameron and his daughter on their
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arrival. It was settled between our hero and Mr
M'Donald, that the old Scot should never know
to whom he was indebted. The building was
like all others in that country, and consisted of
four apartments, three of them as rude as might
be. The fourth being designed for Flora, was
finished with all the taste and ingenuity Gordon
could exert. The walls were squared by the
axe, plastered with mud, and washed with the
white clay of the prairies; the same the Indians
use to cleanse their leathern garments. The floor
was neatly jointed and planed, and the windows
were, as we are credibly informed, the first glazed
ones ever seen at Pembinaw. Those of the other
houses were of oiled paper, or parchment. In
short all was comfortably, if not elegantly arranged.
At this time, news came that Governor Semple,
Duncan Cameron and Flora, had arrived at Fort
Douglass. Mr Semple was detained there by
business, and Cameron was obliged to proceed to
Pembinaw; but unwilling to expose his daughter
to the danger of starvation, he left her with the
Governor. When the clansman arrived at Pembinaw,
Gordon, under pretence of hunting, saddled
his horse and rode to Fort Douglass, where he
was cordially received. Flora, indeed, on the first
opportunity, urged the impropriety of his visit, but
as Gordon informed her that Mr Semple would
ascend the river in a few days, and that his presence
would add to the security of the journey,
she gave up the argument.
The colonists had ploughed and planted Indian
corn and such vegetables as were most likely to
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succeed in that climate; but when the harvest
was nearly ripe for the sickle, clouds of grasshoppers
swept the land like the samiel, and left
not a green blade behind. The Catholic priest
publicly anathematized them in vain. The inhabitants
were obliged to resort to the chase for
their daily subsitence, but as if all things conspired
against Lord Selkirk's schemes of colonization,
the buffaloes emigrated to the Missouri. (13)
Provisions began to fall short at Fort Douglass,
and all persons connected with the establishment
were put on short allowance, to the great annoyance
of the Canadians, whose digestive organs
equal those of wolves in power.
In another week the new settlers for whom Mr
Semple waited, arrived, and he prepared to depart.
A small portion of the stores of the fort
was put on board the boat, and the party moved
up the river. The third day of their progress
brings us to the time when our story commenced.
After leaving the boat as before related, Gordon
ascended a small rising ground, and looked
round for the wild cattle. His practised eye soon
discovered a solitary buffalo, grazing at a great
distance. The sun was fast sinking, and it was
evident that to reach and kill the animal before
dark, he must exert himself to the utmost. He
threw his gun upon his shoulder, and was about
to start, when his ear was saluted by a low whistle.
He well understood it to be an Indian signal,
meaning `you are in danger; keep out of
sight.' The warning came from a small ravine at
the foot of the hillock; one of the thousand
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channels by which the snow and rain of the prairies
find their way to the river. Gordon descended
into the hollow and returned an answering
sign. A tall Indian, mounted on a powerful
charger, emerged from the ravine, and the bois
brulé recognized Wawnahton. The horse appeared
to have been hard ridden, and the face,
hands and dress of the rider were stained with
blood. His feet were placed in huge wooden
stirrups, drawn up short, but he sat firm and erect,
managing his steed with a cord fastened round the
under jaw. Three bounds placed him at Gordon's
side.
`How! metah kodah, what are you doing
here?' he asked.
`I have come to kill a cow for our people. Our
children are crying for food.'
`I have heard that you are as good a hunter as
if you had been born in a Dahcotah lodge. But
while you approach the buffalo beware that you
are not yourself approached.'
`Who should approach me, if not some of your
people? and they seldom come so low on the
river.'
`Listen. There is a hunter who thirsts for
your blood. It is the Englishman — the old woman
who persuaded me to come to Pembinaw.
Do you see, yonder?' he continued, pointing to
a distant strip of wood, such as always fringes the
border of a prairie stream. `He is there, and
nineteen half-breeds with him. There were twenty
this morning.' Drawing his robe aside, he
showed a scalp in his belt. `Keep a good watch
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to-night, for they have been watching your boat
all day.'
`You have killed one of his followers then.
Why did you so? And why should he seek our
lives? None of us ever opposed his trade.'
`He hates you, and if you encamp on this side
of the river, not one of you will see the sun rise
tomorrow. I was in quest of the Khakhatons
with ten men, when we discovered the party.
They were too many for us, but I was resolved
not to return home without a scalp, and followed
them. A man without a scalp is lying below the
river bank yonder, with an arrow sticking in him.
I saw that he was a Khakhaton by his features.
Besides, these mongrels spoil our hunting grounds.
They ride hundreds together and scare away the
buffalo. I will not suffer them to hunt on my
land.'
`I cannot return to the boat empty. Our women
are dying with hunger. I must kill something,
cost what it may.'
`That is the way with you men who wear hats.
You go through fire for your women. But I have
provided for that too. Do you see the wood at
yonder bend of the river? I killed a fat cow,
and hung its flesh in those branches at noon.
Your big canoe will soon be there; but mount
behind me and we will be before it. Come, jump
up.'
Gordon sprang on the horse behind him, and
half an hour's ride brought them to the spot.
Gordon had began to thank the chief, but the latter
cut him short. `When your big canoe
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arrives,' said he, `make a fire and eat. Then as
soon as it is dark, leave the camp and hide yourselves.
Do not suffer yourselves to be surprised.
I will be nigh you, and ten good bows shall not
be wanting, in time of need. But stay — I have a
pistol that is useless for want of ammunition;
give me some of yours.' And having tied up the
powder and ball he received from Gordon in the
corner of his calico shirt, with a sinew, he galloped
away through the wood.
When the boat rounded to at the spot where
he was standing, our hero communicated the intelligence
he had obtained to Mr Semple, and recommended
to place the women and children in
safety on the opposite shore, while the men should
remain, and expect the half-breeds. `We can
make a breastwork of logs,' he said, to compensate
for the disparity of numbers, and we shall
have the Sioux on our side.'
But to these and many more good reasons for
fighting, Governor Semple gave no heed. He resolved
to follow Wawnahton's advice to the letter.
The engagés had toiled all day; but the sight
of the meat gave them fresh spirits. They kindled
a huge fire, and beguiled the time with their
pipes, and a greasy pack of cards. They even
heard the announcement that their labor had not
ceased, without a murmur. They did not ask Mr
Semple's reasons; it was enough for them that he
was their bourgeois; but they said to one another,
that Monsieur Gordon had probably seen signs of
Indians.
It would be difficult to find a people so well
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[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]
fitted to endure the hardships of the Indian trade
as the Canadians. They assume the manners
and habits of the aborigines with perfect ease.
For a stipend of from one to two hundred dollars
per annum, they toil incessantly, through hot and
cold, wet and dry. Carrying heavy burthens on
their heads, laboring at the oar, wading for hours
in rapids, and half the time subsisting on food that
our dogs would reject, they are always polite
and cheerful, and generally obedient.
On this occasion, when the repast was over, a
number of large logs were laid on the fire, that its
continued light might deceive the enemy, and the
party were ordered to embark. The oars were
muffled with strips of buffalo skin, and after rowing
a few hours they put ashore and passed the
rest of the night without molestation.
CHAPTER VII.
With breath of foam and bloodshot eye,
The monarch of the prairie turns:
He hurls the horseman to the sky,
With trampling hoof the horse he spurns.
Unpublished Poem of the Prairies.
Goveror Semple was prepared to find misery
at Pembinaw, but the reality was beyond his
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expectations. On his arrival, when he asked where
the town might be, his attendants pointed to thirty
or forty wretched huts, scattered along the bank
for a mile. Cameron's house, and the buildings
in the Company's fort above, were, indeed, comfortable;
for they had been erected by Canadian
hands; but those built by the Scotch and Swiss,
seemed about to fall with their own weight. Everything
wore the garb of poverty. The colonists
were ragged, and their sunken faces and hollow
eyes told a tale of dearth and distress. The
people angling, or drawing nets in the river, and
the heaps of the offals of fishes before the doors,
shewed how the inhabitants had for a long time
subsisted. The very dogs seemed conscious of
the general desolation. In a camp of half-breeds
and gens libres, hard by, there were no such appearances.
Dirt there was, and to spare, about
their leathern tents; but nothing looked like starvation.
They had of late found no buffaloes, but
they took the beaver, otter, muskrat, and other
animals, whose flesh, though not acceptable to a
well educated palate, goes down very well with
the rangers of the prairie. The poor emigrants,
unaccustomed to such circumstances, were compelled
to buy meat of these people at enormous
prices, or go without. The fishery was their main
dependence.
The meeting between Flora and her father was
far from joyful. She flung herself on his neck
and wept. He was highly displeased when he
heard that Gordon had been passing his time
at Fort Douglass. `I did not think,' he said,
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[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]
`when they told me he was gone to the hunting,
what game he was after. And I dare to say, you
were very glad to be so near him.' But when
he was informed that our hero's deportment toward
her had been distant; and that he had rendered
the party a great service, on their journey,
he was somewhat mollified.
Once installed in her new habitation, Flora discovered
to whom her father was indebted for it.
She found her name carved in several places on
the timber, and on inquiry learned who had built
the house. Yet she did not communicate her
discoveries to her parent.
On his part, he found no opportunity to turn
his agricultural acquirements to advantage: he
was unused to the climate, and the colonists would
not follow his advice with regard to their preparations
for the ensuing season.
Famine soon stared the settlers in the face.
The river closed, and Governor Semple promulgated
an edict, directing that a part of all provisions
passing through the territory should be taken
for the use of the settlers. In pursuance of this
law, Deputy Governor M'Donald seized a large
quantity of provision, that an agent of the North-west
Company was taking down the Assinneboin
River, and sent a part of it to Pembinaw. The
whole country was in a blaze, in consequence, and
the partners of the aggrieved company met to devise
measures of retaliation.
But as the food thus obtained did not last long,
though sparingly distributed, Governor Semple
hired fifty half-breeds to hunt for the colonists.
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He advised the latter to accompany the hunters
into the plains. That they might comply with
his counsel, he furnished them with lodges, bought
of the Indians, to encamp in; and with horses and
carts to transport their families and baggage.
A herd of cattle was known to be at the river
Aux Parcs, and thither the hunters were directed
to go and encamp, and afterwards follow the animals
in their migrations, like Indians. The procession
was a curious one. There was a long
line of upwards of an hundred rudely constructed
carts, each conducted by a man on foot. They
were laden with tents, bedding, &c. On the
tops were seated the women and children. The
spouses of the emigrants had found it expedient
to adopt the costume of the half-breed females,
as better adapted to the country than their own.
It consists of a short waisted upper garment, cut
and shaped like a hussar jacket, and a skirt, with
a pair of leggins; all of cloth. A pair of moccasins,
sometimes ornamented with porcupine's
quills, a knife stuck in the girdle, and the hair
hanging down the back in a queue as thick and
as long as a large Bologna sausage, completed the
toilet. Some of these ladies wore caps, some
men's hats, and others were bare headed. At
least twenty distinct languages were spoken in the
cavalcade; all nations seeming to have sent their
representatives, excepting the United States; for,
strange to say, there was not a Yankee there. The
half-breeds had indeed heard of a shrewd, swapping,
bargaining race, called the Bostonois; but
none could tell in what part of the world they
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resided, or who was their king. Not the least
amusing of the appurtenances to our travellers,
were the dog sledges, (for there was a light snow
on the ground) each drawn by three or four large,
wolfish dogs, tandem; their harnesses ornamented
with ribbons and hawk-bells. The running
horses too, the finest of the breed, were caparisoned
after the Indian fashion. Some of them
were decorated with collars of scarlet cloth; rewards
bestowed on the animals by their owners
for exertions in the chase. Altogether, a painter
might go far before he would find so picturesque
a subject for his pencil as the group we have attempted
to describe.
Cameron accompanied the hunters; and his
daughter, notwithstanding his remonstrances, resolved
to go with him. When told that they
might be attacked by the Sioux, she replied, that
those who remained, were in still more danger
from the myrmidons of the Northwest Company.
When the hardships and privations of Indian life
were urged on her consideration, she said, that
her father's advanced age and infirmity rendered
her attentions the more necessary, under such circumstances.
Gordon rode with the hunters. In two days
they reached the river Aux Parcs, and encamped
near a large herd of cattle. It was decided that
a hunt should take place the next morning, and
guns were cleaned, and knives sharpened accordingly.
At sunrise, the hunters mounted and divided into
parties, of which each had its allotted duties.
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The women ascended a rising ground to witness
the sport. The animals were peacefully grazing,
a league to the northward of the camp. There
was a slight western breeze, and to avoid being
scented (14) by the buffaloes, those whose part it
was to raise them, made a circuit eastward, so
that they might run toward the camp. They advanced
first on horseback, and then on foot, leading
their steeds by the bridles. When within two
hundred yards, the animals ceased feeding, and
gazed attentively. `Mount!' cried our hero, and
in an instant each was in his saddle. The buffaloes
started, and the hunters followed, not however
at full speed. When within a mile of the
camp, other horsemen started from the hollows on
the flanks, and the firing commenced. Each hunter
carried his balls in his mouth, and the aperture
of his horn was made large, that the powder
might escape freely.
The party in the rear now closed on the herd.
The buffalo, when urged to speed, has the gait of
the swine, that is, the fore and hind legs are lifted
alternately, and together, producing a motion something
like that of a rocking-horse. The horses
trained to the chase acquire a similar pace, and
run beside the victim just far enough from him to
get out of the way of his horns when he turns
upon them, which he commonly does, when
wounded. The rider, holding his piece stiffly
with both hands, fires at the heart, and at the report
the horse sheers off. The hunter loads again
at full speed. When a buffalo is struck, it becomes
the property of him who has inflicted the wound,
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and is left to be despatched at leisure. Though
the sport is in appearance very dangerous, few
accidents occur.
All these evolutions were witnessed by Flora
from the stand she had taken with her father.
Her cheek grew pale, for her lover was the foremost
of the riders. Apart from this, the scene
was terrific for a woman to look upon: the thundering
tramp of the drove, the distended nostrils
of the horses, as they fled from the wounded animals,
the shouts of the hunters at each successful
aim, the reports of the guns, and the whistling of
bullets were too much for the nerves of Flora
Cameron. An incident occurred that affected
her yet more.
Reckless of hoofs and horns, Gordon had nine
times ridden into the centre of the herd, and had
each time brought down a buffalo. As the chase
drew nigh the spot where Flora stood, he naturally
became anxious to signalize his courage and
dexterity before her eyes. There was among the
rest a bull, three years old, that had turned repeatedly
on the pursuers, and given them no little
trouble, and Gordon resolved to attack him. Attached
to the neck of his steed was a long hair
rope, such as the Indians use to tether their running
horses. Our cavalier dashed at the bull and
fired, but the ball missed the heart, and passed
through a sensitive part of the intestines. The
beast rushed upon him, with a frightful roar; but
the horse, true to its training, swerved, and would
have carried him off clear, had not the rope above
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[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]
mentioned slipped from its fastening, and trailed
on the ground thirty feet behind. At the end was
a running noose, into which the bull put his hoof,
going near to throw the horse at every bound.
At this sight Flora screamed, and fell to the ground
senseless.
Gordon's horse, thus entangled, plunged forward,
and the buffalo followed, the one unable to
lessen, and the other to increase the distance between
them. In this deadly peril, although his
steed reeled and was thrice thrown upon its knees,
the bois brulé did not lose his seat or his presence
of mind. Shifting his gun to his left hand, he
unsheathed his knife with his right, and stooping
on his courser's neck, severed the rope. The
bull continued his furious course, and pitched with
a tremendous bellow, headlong to the ground, so
near to Flora that the blood spouted from his nostrils
upon her dress in a stream. The animal
made a few convulsive struggles, and expired.
Gordon sprang from his horse, and ran to where
Cameron was standing over his daughter, wringing
his hands in utter anguish. Snatching a cup
from one of the women, he ran with the speed of
a frighted cabri (15) to where a hole had been
cut in the ice of the river. In less than two minutes
he returned, and raising Flora on his knee,
he sprinkled her face with water. A faint sigh
announced that she was reviving, and the first
word she pronounced was his name. The women
now cried that they would bring a dog sledge
to convey her to the camp, but Gordon spared
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[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]
them the trouble. He took her in his arms and
carried her to her father's lodge.
The hunt had terminated, and the women, accustomed
to such service, harnessed the dogs and
draught horses, and proceeded to where the men
were employed in cutting up the buffaloes they had
killed. The carts were filled with meat. The
dog sledges were laden, (at the rate of an hundred
pounds to each dog,) and all returned happy
to the lodges. An hundred buffaloes had that
day been slain.
Now came the joys of boiling and roasting.
The humps, esteemed the best part of the buffalo,
were cooked for immediate use, and not to
be forgotten are the tongues, still less the delicious
marrow bones; to taste which is worth a journey
across the Atlantic. The next business was to
cure the meat, which was accomplished by a very
simple process. It was cut into very thin slices
and hung up in the smoke of the lodges. In this situation
it soon becomes perfectly exsiccated, and as
hard as wood. The worst parts were reserved
for pemican. When the meat was perfectly cured,
several cart loads were sent to Pembinaw.
More chases took place, and consequently more
remittances of provisions. The camp was repeatedly
moved, in order to keep nigh the buffalo.
At last, they thought they had collected food
enough for the winter. But a new herd arriving
in the vicinity, they could not resist the temptation,
and resolved to have one more hunt before
they departed.
-- 155 --
CHAPTER VIII.
Now summon the red current to thine heart —
Old man, thy mightiest wo remains to tell:
I saw the arrow from the bow string part;
I heard the hoarse, blood-freezing war-whoop swell —
I heard the victor's shout — the dying yell —
The bullet whizzing from the flashing gun —
Fierce was the combat where our warriors fell.
The savage fled toward the setting sun;
He bore away thy child, and thou art left alone.
Anon.
[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]
In the morning on which the hunt was to have
taken place, Cameron walked up the bed of the
river on the ice, to the place where the horses
were grazing on the rushes. As he turned a
short bend, he perceived a party of Indians among
the animals, and turned about to retrace his steps
to the camp. But he had been seen, and his retreat
was cut off. Matters being in this state, he
cried for help. Two Indians came up to him
with threatening gestures. They seized him by
the arms, and hurried him off at the utmost speed
he was capable of exerting. They did not appear
disposed to harm him, but they significantly
put their fingers to their lips and drew their knives,
to let him know that silence would be his wisest
course. His first cry had, however, given the
-- 156 --
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alarm, and the gens libres and half-breeds came
running to save their horses. Gordon was the
foremost. He came on shouting, and discharged
his piece with effect at one of the hindmost of the
marauders. Then seeing what had happened to
Cameron, he gained upon his captors till they,
aware of his pursuit, turned. A ravine twentyfive
feet broad was between them. One of the savages,
seeing the rescue inevitable, loosened his hold
upon the old man, and drew an arrow to the head
to kill him; but Gordon, exerting the physical
powers of which he possessed an uncommon
share, cleared the chasm at one bound, and felled
the Indian to the earth with the butt end of his
piece. The other uttering a wild shriek, recoiled
a few paces, and let fly an arrow at Gordon. It
glanced upon his powder horn, and struck Cameron
in the breast, where it buried itself to the feather.
Before the archer had time to draw another
shaft, Gordon was upon him. Leaping up,
he struck the Indian in the chest with his heels
and beat him to the earth; at the same receiving
a deep wound in the leg from his knife. They
grappled, but the struggles of the savage were unavailing.
Few men could have contended with
Gordon at any time, but now, he contended with
tenfold energy. Seizing the wrist of his prostrate
foe, he buried his dague, or broad knife, three
times in his bosom. The whole passed in a moment,
and the foremost of the half-breeds came
up just as the Indian drew his last breath.
Gordon stood for a moment irresolute. The
horse stealers had begun to recover from their
-- 157 --
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confusion, and rally. At that moment one of the
free men, named Le Gros, reached the spot.
`Le Gros,' cried Gordon, `take care of the old
man. Carry him to the camp, and I will fight for
both of us.'
`Monsieur Gourdon,' answered the Canadian,
`he is dead. It is of no use to waste time on
him. Let us rather try to save the rest of the
horses.'
`No, no, he is not dead. I tell you he is not
dead. Carry him to the camp, and he may recover.
He cannot if he is left here. For God's
sake carry him to his daughter. If you do not, I
shall be obliged to do it myself.'
`I would willingly listen to your commands at
any other time, Monsieur, but see, that rascal in
green paint is already riding on my best horse,
and there are two fellows on foot trying to catch
the other.'
`You greedy rascal!' Gordon begun, but seeing
that hard words would have no effect, he continued,
`I think I am more likely to regain your
horses than yourself, Le Gros, and I promise you
I will do it, if I can. If I do not succeed, I will
pay you any price you ask for them: my word is
good, I suppose.'
`O yes; your word is as good as the money.
I will get my dogs, and carry the old man to his
lodge; but remember, Monsieur Gourdon, I have
refused an hundred and fifty dollars apiece for
my horses. Do you hear, Monsieur? I say I
shall expect something over an hundred and fifty
dollars apiece, if you do not recover them.'
-- 158 --
[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]
`I will pay it; I will pay it. But go, go now,
for the love of God;' and Le Gros departed.
The marauders were a band of roving Yanktons,
under a petty chief called Nopah Keon, or
`he who has twice flown.' M'Leod had had an
interview with this dignitary, and engaged him by
the promise of liquor, guns, blankets, and other articles
held in high esteem by the Indians, to endeavor
to get Flora Cameron and her father into
his power. This effected, he had no doubt that
he should be able to make his addresses acceptable.
With this view, Nopah Keon had approached
the half-breed camp, but the sight of the horses
proved too strong a temptation to his followers.
Seeing their cupidity could not be restrained,
the wily savage resolved to take advantage of
it to promote his designs. He detached ten men,
and gained the woods in the rear of the camp,
while the rest were busied catching the horses.
They dismounted, and under the cover of the trees
and underbrush, approached the lodges. There
they waited till the alarm, which they had no
doubt would be soon given, should deprive the
women and children of protection. The lodge of
Cameron, as well as his person and that of his
daughter, had been so well described to them,
that there was no danger of a mistake. But to do
M'Leod justice, he had given strict orders that no
violence, farther than was necessary to insure their
capture, should be done to Cameron or his
daughter.
But to return; Gordon, as soon as he was relieved
from the care of the old man, hastened to
-- 159 --
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bring the hunters into some order: courage they
did not want. Nor were the Sioux unmindful of
the Indian policy of war. They all dismounted,
and the stolen horses were given in charge to
those of the party least remarkable for skill and
bravery. Each of these led five or six of the
animals out of the mélée, while a part of the warriors
checked the advance of the half breeds.
Other some occupied themselves in catching the
borses that yet ran at large. This was not effected
without difficulty. The animals were frightened,
and ran about in disorder.
Shots and arrows were exchanged incessantly,
but with little damage to either side. Both parties
took advantage of the trees, and besides, constantly
leaped about, so as to baffle any aim that
might be taken with arrow or bullet. Some gallant
charges were made by individuals on both
sides, but the success generally amounted to driving
the opponent from his cover, for none of the
combatants thought of standing a conflict hand to
hand. This could not last long. By dint of entreaty
and exhortation, Gordon at last prevailed
on the half-breeds to act together. They raised
the war whoop, and drove the Sioux from their
covers at once. This was not done without losing
two men, and the savages suffered still more.
Five of their number fell, two wounded, and three
killed, all of whom were instantly divested of their
scalps. By this time, the Indians appointed to
catch the horses had fully succeeded. They
stood in the open prairie, with the animals around
them, each with a rope bridle in its mouth. The
-- 160 --
[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]
Sioux, driven from the wood by the furious charge
of the half-breeds, rushed towards them, and in
an instant each was mounted. The two belonging
to Le Gros, more frightened than the rest,
had dragged the Indian who held them to a distance
from the others. Perceiving this, Gordon,
calling to a man of Kinisteneau blood, named Dés
Champs, ran towards them. They both came up,
just as the Indian was about springing upon the
back of one of the horses. Each knife was
sheathed in his vitals in an instant, and while Dés
Champs held the creatures by the bridle, our hero
turned to the assistance of his party. It was in
vain. The Dahcotahs had mounted and were
already far away. At a great distance, Gordon
saw ten or a dozen horsemen emerge from the
bed of the river and ride in a direction crossing
the course of the retreating party.
Our hero was then first sensible that he was
wounded. In the heat of combat, he had paid
no attention to the circumstance; but now, his leg
stiffened, and he began to be exhausted by the
loss of blood. Dés Champs proposed to carry
him to the camp on one of the horses he had assisted
to rescue, but this was found impracticable.
An arrow had lodged in the body of one of them,
and the other had a leg broken by a bullet. They
had not a blanket with them, in which to carry
him, and he was totally unable to walk or stand.
He had no option but to remain where he was,
until one of the men could go to the camp, and
return with a dog sledge. This service Dés
Champs volunteered to perform.
-- 161 --
[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]
A fire was soon kindled, the snow was cleared
away, hay was cut, and he sat down before it.
His leg was washed with snow, and the bleeding
staunched with the linen of his own shirt. In an
incredibly short space Dés Champs returned, for
he was the swiftest runner in the north-west. He
said nothing to any one, nor would he answer any
questions, but his brow spoke volumes. It was
observed too, that he had but two dogs harnessed
to the sledge. This was no objection, as two
draught dogs are abundantly able to draw a man;
yet it appeared singular that he had not taken
three out of so many. The dogs were white,
and their coats were stained with blood; yet this
on another occasion would have excited no attention:
they might have fought with some of their
own species, or at any rate there was enough
fresh meat in the camp to account for their appearance.
Some of the hunters scraped away the snow,
and began to dig graves in the frozen earth, with
their knives, for their fallen comrades. Others
placed Gordon upon the sledge and set off with
him to the camp. It presented a scene of desolation.
Five or six women lay on the ground in
different places, tomahawked and scalped. Before
the door of Cameron's lodge, lay Le Gros,
with five arrows sticking in his body. He too
had lost his scalp, but the body of a Yankton lying
a few paces from him, showed that he had not
fallen alone. His teeth were close, his features still
gave token of firm resolution, and he held a pistol,
with the cock down, in his hand. Cameron
-- 162 --
[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]
was lying in his lodge, helpless. The arrow had
not been withdrawn, but he still breathed. Flora
was nowhere to be found. When Gordon was
apprised of these sad tidings, he was for a moment
paralyzed. But soon recovering, he directed
Dés Champs and others, to examine the premises.
Of this there was no need: the women
who had fled and concealed themselves, at the appearance
of Nopah Keon, were soon found.
They said, that while they watched the event of
the battle, an armed band of Yanktons entered
the camp from the rear. Le Gros had deposited
old Cameron on his bed, and had issued from the
lodge, just as the savages broke in. He was immediately
killed, and the women and children did
not all escape, as has been already seen. The
Indian whose medal, &c, (16) declared him a chief,
entered Cameron's lodge, which he directly knew,
for on it was depicted a man in the act of shooting
a deer. What passed in the lodge they could
not tell, but presently the savage came forth, bearing
Flora in his arms, insensible. He carried her
into the woods, and what became of her afterwards
they knew not. The researches of Dés
Champs showed that the Yanktons had had horses
in the wood, and that they had taken a north-ward
course. But no blood was in their tracks,
and a small comb, belonging to Flora, was picked
up at some distance from the spot where the party
had taken horse; whence they concluded that
she had been carried off unharmed.
Gordon would fain have persuaded the half-breeds
to pursue; but they would not listen to the
-- 163 --
[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]
proposal. Their best horses were carried off, the
Indians had two hours the start, and they would
not leave their wives and children without protection.
He could do nothing himself, for he was so
much exhausted with loss of blood, that he could
not move without assistance.
The arrow was drawn from Cameron by an
old half-breed, commonly called Le Docteur, from
his skill in surgery and simples. It was not done
without difficulty, much care being requisite to
prevent the iron head from coming off in the
wound. (17) The old man sighed heavily, and inquired
for his daughter. When told what had
befallen her, his senses failed him, and the syncope
was renewed.
When he recovered, he called for Gordon.
The young man was assisted into his presence,
and sat down beside him. Cameron feebly stretched
out his hand toward him. `I have sinned, I
have sinned,' said he, `I have listened to the voice
of pride and vain glory rather than to natural affection,
and He has laid his hand heavily on me
for it.' And he groaned aloud.
Gordon spoke words of comfort to the afflicted
parent, and said that as soon as he was able to sit
upon a horse, he would redeem his daughter from
captivity, or perish in the attempt.
`Do so, do so,' said the old man. `Rescue
her from this worse than Egyptian bondage, and
she is yours. I refused you before, and grievously
am I punished for it.'
`I will. If it be in the power of man I will
do it.'
-- 164 --
[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]
`And I will go with you, Monsieur Gourdon,'
said Dés Champs, moved to tears, by the sight of
so much misery. `You shall not want the aid
that one hand can bestow.'
Indeed, Gordon was highly popular among the
people of the country. His great bodily powers,
his splendid courage, and his reckless generosity,
were of all qualities the most likely to gain him
the good will of such a race. Of his talents
and acquirements they knew nothing, nor would
they have cared for them if they had, but his
valor they had witnessed, and they had profited
by his expenditure. Flora was no less beloved.
Her kindness for the aged and infirm, and the affability
of her manners, had made her deservedly
a favorite. They all pitied her condition, yet
such is the inconsistency of poor human nature,
that none but Dés Champs would risk anything
for her relief.
Luckily for all concerned the Yanktons had
contented themselves with taking the running
horses, esteeming those destined to draught
slightly. In the morning, Gordon and Cameron
were placed in a cart, which was driven by Dés
Champs. The women and children were disposed
of in a similar manner, and they departed
for Pembinaw, less joyful than they came. In
three days they reached the fort. The greater
number of the men had remained to take care of
the camp, and the carts made several trips, before
the meat and baggage were transported to the settlement.
-- 165 --
CHAPTER IX.
Le tumulte, les cris, la peur, l'aveugle rage,
La honte de céder, l'ardente soif du sang,
Le désespoir, la mort, passent de rang en rang.
La nature en frémit.
Henriade.
[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]
Cameron remained in a state of utter helplessness.
His lungs were injured, and bled inwardly,
and he was perfectly aware that his wound was
mortal. But for aught that appeared, he might
survive till spring. One morning a large body of
horsemen were descried in the prairie, at a considerable
distance. The worthy governor had
received intimations of an attack intended by the
Northwest Company, and felt assured that these
men were not reconnoitring the place with peaceable
intent. He issued orders for a party of
twenty men to assemble in arms, forthwith, and
his command was promptly obeyed. He put
himself at their head, and issued forth, leaving instructions
for the male part of the population to
be in readiness to repel any attack, and for a part
of them to advance to his support with a small
piece of artillery, in case help should be needed.
As he advanced, he found the number of his
opponents was five times greater than that of his
own escort, and he despatched a man to the rear
-- 166 --
[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]
to order up the gun, and then advanced within
speaking distance of the enemy. They were under
the command of Cuthbert Grant, who had
caused them to dismount, and draw up in good
order. Most of them had their faces painted
black, after the custom of the Indians.
`Who are you, and what do you want?' cried
the governor, advancing on foot and alone, to within
five paces of them.
It chanced that the half breed in front of him
still remained on horseback. This fellow was a
noted desperado, and was known by the name of
Peter Pangman, or the Bostonois. He it was,
who took upon himself to answer the governor.
`You villain,' said he, `we want our provisions,
of which you have robbed us.'
`Rogue! do you dare to call me so?' said
Semple, losing patience at the epithet. `I will
make you repent your insolence.'
At this moment a gun was discharged at the
governor, by whom, never appeared. The ball
passed through his thighs. He did not fall, but
stood, unable to move, on the spot where he had
received the wound. The flash was followed by
a general discharge of fire arms from the party of
Cuthbert Grant, upon the governor's people.
Those of them who were not killed on the spot,
scattered and fled, and Grant's partizans broke
their ranks and pursued. They fully proved
their claim to Indian birth. Their savage kindred
could not have behaved with more barbarity.
Of twentytwo men that had come to the field, in
ten minutes, but three were left alive: two,
-- 167 --
[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]
severely wounded, who had been saved from the
fury of their assailants by Grant; for to do him
justice, he did all in his power to mitigate the horrors
of the scene. The other had fallen to the
ground, in an agony of terror; three men had
fallen upon him, and he owed his life to the supposition
that he was dead.
When the unfortunate governor was wounded,
he turned to Grant, who stood near him. `You
are a gentleman,' said he, `and I beg you to save
my life.' Grant ordered Peter Pangman to take
care of him, and hastened away, saying that his
presence was needed elsewhere. Pangman looked
malignantly at the wounded man. `Do you
think me a rogue now?' asked he. `If you were
not,' answered Semple, `you would not be here.
But if anything befalls me, your own neck may
pay for it.' Pangman called the Indian, Joe, the
same who had assisted at the murder of Cavenny,
and whose tomahawk, hands and face, were already
painted bloody red. He spoke some words
to the savage, in Chippeway, and left him with
the prisoner. The latter saw that his last hour
was come. He closed his hands upon his breast
and his lips moved in prayer, though no sound
came from them. The Indian stole behind him
unheeded. One crashing blow, and the unfortunate
gentleman lay as lifeless as the corpses
around him.
The party with the piece of ordnance had advanced
half way from the fort, when the firing
commenced. Seeing the fate of their fellows
they halted, pointed the gun at the band of
-- 168 --
[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]
butchers, fired, and fled for their lives. The ball did
no other harm than to kill a horse, but it had the
effect to assemble the banditti round their leader.
They had tasted blood, and were now clamorous
to proceed to the settlement and slaugher every
person in it. `Do you see my horse lying there,
Monsieur Grant?' said Pangman. `May I die
in mortal sin, if I do not have amends of these accursed
planters for killing him.' And he crossed
himself very devoutly. But Grant saw that too
much had been done. He had received orders
from his principals to take the fort, seize the provisions
and merchandise, and make prisoners of
all within, but his instructions were peremptory, to
do no bodily injury to any one, if he could void
it. He was himself, little disposed to commit any
violence, but he was as fully possessed of the doctrine
of implicit obedience to his bourgeois, as the
voyageurs themselves. At present, however, he
saw that reproaching his too zealous followers
would have no good effect; and he contented
himself with telling them that he dared not proceed
without further orders from his principals.
He informed them too, that their necks were in
danger for what they had done, a piece of intelligence
that tended not a little to damp their ardor.
Pangman he assured of indemnity for his loss,
and concluded by telling them, that anything
more they might do, would neither be reckoned
good service by the company, nor rewarded as
such.
This reasoning was conclusive with a large majority
of them, and the more violent, finding they
-- 169 --
[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]
were not likely to receive any support, and were
themselves too weak to do anything, came to the
resolution to obey Grant's orders. They all rode
off the field, therefore, leaving the dead bodies of
the slain to the wolves and ravens. The small
cannon before mentioned, they left on the field, for
they had not the means to carry it off.
As soon as they were gone, Pritchard, the man
whom they had supposed to be dead, rose, and
finding nothing to hinder him, walked to the fort.
Stupified as he had been with terror, he had yet
sense enough to perceive that the only way to
save his life, was to remain quiet, and leave them
in their error. But the shock had unsettled his reason.
He was a man about forty years old; when
he fell his hair was black, but when he arose, the
snow around him was not whiter. He found his
way to the fort, but to all interrogatories he responded
with an idiot star. He remained in
this condition for some weeks. He would sit for
hours in the same posture, his eyes covered with
his hands. When at last he recovered his sanity,
he was unable to give any account of what had
happened. He had vivid, though indistinct recollections
of a massacre, but could never connect
his ideas on the subject. Afterwards when required
to give evidence before a legal tribunal, his
testimony was set aside by the court on this account.
The command now devolved on Gordon, who
was little able to perform its duties. Yet he took
measures for defence. He withdrew the settlers
from their cabins into the fort, posted a regular
-- 170 --
[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]
guard, and distributed arms and ammunition.
And he continued to visit his sentinels, on crutches,
till Deputy Governor M'Donald relieved him.
A voyageur arrived, sent by De Reinville, (a
trader at Lac au Travers) for a supply of merchandize.
This man brought no tidings of Flora,
but he informed our hero that the band of Wawnahton
was encamped on the Wild Rice River,
and thither Gordon resolved to go.
The more experienced of the Company's people
advised him to wait till the requested supply
should be despatched, when he might have the
advantage of the carts and dog sledges. But he
would brook no more delay, and departed on
horseback with Dés Champs, early in a cold morning
in January.
By short marches, for of long ones he was incapable,
Gordon approached the camp of Wawnahton.
A brother could not have tended him
with more attention than did Dés Champs. He
cared for the horses, prepared the food, and was
ever on the look out for roving bands of Indians,
from whom they might have sustained injury. But
luckily, none appeared. The only danger that
approached them, came in the questionable shape
of a grisly bear, and was removed from their
track by a bullet from Dés Champ's gun.
In nine days they came in sight of Shoankah
Kahpee, (the running dog) the oasis where the
tents of the Dahcotahs were pitched. Here it
behoved them to use the utmost caution, for
though they were sure of all kindness, when once
in the lodges, the Sioux would probably have
-- 171 --
[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]
murdered them without scruple, had they found
them in the open prairie. They stopped where
they were, intending to enter the camp the next
morning, before the light, when the savages should
be asleep.
The night was cloudy, and toward morning
circumstances became favorable to their enterprise.
Before day-break, snow began to fall, and
the wind blew with tremendous violence. The
snow was lifted from the plains, and whirled about
in a thousand eddies, so obscuring the atmosphere
that objects could not be distinguished at the distance
of an hundred yards. In short it was one
of those tremendous storms called in the language
of the country poudries, in which neither the Indian
nor the hardy Canadian dares to stir abroad,
and the very wolves fly to the woods for shelter.
The temperature was not much below the freezing
point, but the wind pierced the garments of
our travellers like a knife. The tornado was just
the thing they wanted, being sure that none of
the Dahcotahs would be on the watch, and that
they might reach the doors of the lodges unobserved.
They saddled their horses, and following
the bed of the river, as a sure guide through the
gloom, advanced. The banks partially sheltered
them from the blast, though at times they were
almost blown off their steeds. Finding that riding
was the same thing as freezing, they dismounted,
and led their cattle by the bridles,
though the effort was exceedingly painful to Gordon.
After six hours of incessant and toilsome
exertion, they reached the camp. They heard
-- 172 --
[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]
singing and dancing in the lodges, but none came
to question them. Turning their horses loose,
they advanced directly to the tent of Wawnahton,
(which had been minutely described) unmolested
by any but dogs.
CHAPTER X.
Were I in England now, and had but these fishes painted, not a holiday
fool there but would give a piece of silver; when they will not give
a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Tempest.
Gordon and his attendant entered at once.
The Dahcotah chief was sitting at the fire, carving
a pipe-stem. On their entrance he looked up, and
held out his hand. The women stunned the
visitors with their clamor, and the cry of `strangers
arrived' brought the whole band to the lodge
to gaze and ask questions. The wife of Wawnahton
cast a grateful glance of recognition on
Gordon, and spread a robe for him to sit on. She
then took off his moccasins, and gave him others
for present use. A dog was knocked in the
head, singed, and consigned to the kettle with all
haste. The chief took his pipe and otter-skin tobacco
pouch, and gave them to the visitors, in order
that they might smoke. The dog feast was
scarcely over, when they were asked to another in
-- 173 --
[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]
a neighboring tent, and the day passed in the exercise
of over zealous hospitality.
The women set up the soldier's lodge in the
middle of the camp, for the use of the strangers,
and brought wood and water, without presuming
to enter. Thither our adventurers repaired, with
their blankets and horse furniture. One of their
saddles was missing, but as soon as Wawnahton
was apprised of the circumstance, a soldier, by his
order, perambulated the camp, proclaiming the
fact, and requiring whosoever might be in possession
of the lost article, to make instant restitution,
on pain of having his or her blanket and lodge cut
to pieces. A general search took place, and it
was discovered that a starving dog had dragged
the saddle into the bushes to eat the leather.(18)
The chief replaced it with one of his own.
At night the soldiers and old men assembled in
the lodge, to smoke and converse. When they
took leave, Wawnahton remained, and asked the
occasion of Gordon's visit. It was readily communicated.
The chief pondered awhile without speaking.
At last, having knocked the ashes from his pipe
for the tenth time, he broke silence. `Well, I
knew that Nopah Keon had a sick white woman
in his lodge, but had I known that she belonged to
you, he should not have kept her. But if you are
in want of a woman, you need not go so far as his
camp. Choose what girl you like best in my
band, and I will get her for you. Nay, you shall
have one of my wives, if you like that better.'
To this generous offer, Gordon returned a
-- 174 --
[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]
decided negative. It was in vain to attempt to
make Wawnahton comprehend the nature of his
feelings toward Flora. In the opinion of the Indian,
a woman was but a kind of slave, or beast of
burthen. He might prefer one to another on account
of superior beauty or industry, or because
she was the mother of his children; but he had
no more conception of such love as Gordon's, than
of the most abstruse problem in Euclid. `Why
is your mind so set upon this girl?' said he. `Can
she work moccasins better than others? Can she
carry a heavier pack or dress a buffalo robe better?
' Being answered in the negative, he added,
`Well, you people with hats have strange notions.
But I will do as you would have me, notwithstanding.
'
Gordon now proposed to the Dahcotah chief to
set off in quest of Miss Cameron on the morrow;
but the latter coolly replied that there was no occasion
for haste. Nothing is ever gained by hurrying
an Indian; so our hero was obliged to wait
with what patience he might.
During the night the storm ceased and the wind
fell. At sunrise the cold was excessive. The
smallest twigs were covered with a thick rime,
and the atmosphere was full of minute glittering
particles through which the sun looked, shorn of
his beams. At noon parhelia were seen in the
firmament, five in number, so brilliant that the
true Phœbus could not be distinguished from the
false. A solitary buffalo that approached the
camp, was shot, and a little redice trickled from the
wound. The squaws went to take a part of his
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flesh, but he hardened under their knives, and
they were compelled to finish their task with
hatchets. The nearest wood was twelve miles
distant, and to attempt to reach it in such weather,
was certain death. The camp could not be removed
in these circumstances, and thus it remained
three days longer.
The fourth morning after, was mild for the season,
and the camp was raised. The horses and
dogs were laden, the tents were struck, and the
women made up their packs. All took the line
of march. The men walked or rode indolently
along, and the women followed, each bending under
an immense burthen, with perhaps an infant
on the top of all. The soldiers marched in front
and beat the path; and at every two or three
miles the whole procession stopped, to smoke and
eat.
Toward night they arrived at another island, or
oasis, near which a herd of buffaloes were grazing.
Arrived at a suitable spot to encamp, the foremost
soldier struck down a spear, surmounted with the
skin of a raven, his staff of office. As the band
came up, a dog passed this sacred emblem of authority.
It was instantly transfixed by a shaft
from one of the soldiers: a young man, who had
ran to arrest the animal, had his robe cut to pieces,
and was severely beaten with their bows. On
any other occasion, such an indignity would have
been requited with a stab, but the soldiers are an
honorable kind of police, and the exercise or
abuse of their authority is never resented. In
this case, their rigor was intended to prevent the
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buffaloes from being frightened away, and they
took further measures to the same purpose. The
legs of the dogs were tied to their necks, the
horses were picketed, and the tents were pitched,
in precisely the same order in which they had
stood the night before.
A few of the wild cattle were killed for immediate
use. In the morning, the camp broke up,
and proceeded; but not to enlarge upon the incidents
of the journey, which would be a mere repetition
of what has already been related, after
six days' march, they arrived at the camp of Nopah
Keon. It was on the side of a small lake,
affording just wood enough for the kettles. A
scattering discharge of fire arms gave testimony
of the satisfaction of both parties at meeting; and
some hours were spent in feasting and rejoicing.
Gordon found no difficulty in penetrating into
the lodge where Flora lay. In an instant he was
on his knees at her side. `Flora, dear Flora,' he
cried, `nothing but death shall again sever us.'
The tears swam in her eyes; she smiled, and
faintly replied, `I had expected this of you, William;
but my eyes were long, long, wearied with
looking for you.'
`Do you think then, that I would have delayed
an instant, if I had known where to seek you, and
could have dragged one limb after the other?
Take back the unjust reproach.'
`I did not mean to reproach you; I had all
confidence in your affection; but I thought you
were dead.'
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Flora informed our hero, that when she was
carried off, the agitation of her mind, and the fatigue
of her journey on horseback, had brought on
a fever, that had reduced her to the brink of the
grave. She had, however, received no maltreatment,
but had fared as well as the Indians themselves.
Her illness had been aggravated, she
said, by a proposal from Nopah Keon to become
his wife, which was interpreted to her by a trader
on a visit to the camp. She had been put in bodily
fear too, by one of the four wives of her captor,
who was jealous of a new competitor for her
lord's favor. And she had also suffered from the
urgency with which the old women recommended
their prescriptions; for with Indians, as with white
people, every one has a remedy for every disease,
and presses his advice. Neither had the dancing
and singing, intended to effect her cure, been of
any advantage, but rather the contrary.
She now inquired for her father, and Gordon,
afraid of a relapse, told her that Cameron was
severely wounded, but would, he hoped, soon
recover. He said too that the old man had made
her redemption from captivity the price of her
hand.
The crone who had been singing and shaking
a rattle by Flora's side, now imagined that Gordon's
visit portended no good to the interests of
Nopah Keon. She left the patient and repaired
to the lodge of the Grand Medicine, into which, as
she belonged to the fraternity, she was instantly
admitted.(19) Nopah Keon was celebrating the
mysterious rites of the institution, when she
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informed him of what she had seen, but he was too
much engrossed with his own dignity to suffer his
occupation to be interrupted by anything relating
to a woman.
When Nopah Keon carried Flora off, he had no
other view than to deliver her into the hands of
M'Leod, and get the promised reward. As soon
as his party was out of danger of pursuit, he despatched
a messenger to inform that wretch of the
success of his machinations. The envoy did not
readily find the Scotchman, and in the meanwhile
the purpose of Nopah Keon changed. Nature
proved too strong for him: Miss Cameron's surpassing
beauty, though obscured by sickness,
awakened feelings in his bosom to which he had
hitherto been a stranger, and for which he could
not have accounted himself. He was wont to say
that he loved one of his four wives because she
had a still tongue, another for having given him
five boys, the third for her industry, and the fourth
because she was stronger than a horse. But if
any one had asked why he loved Flora better
than all four, he could only have replied, that such
was his pleasure. The band laughed at the love-struck
barbarian, for what they deemed his folly,
and his wives loaded him with reproaches. `See,'
said one of his wives, `your favorite cannot live
in a lodge. She is sick already, and will never
recover.' `She cannot carry so large a burthen
as a girl seven years old,' cried his prolific spouse.
`Who would have such an ugly, pale creature?'
exclaimed the third. `What is she good for?'
shouted the fourth.
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Nevertheless his resolution remained unchanged,
and a trader who came to his camp with a
dog sledge loaded with merchandise, served him
as an interpreter to declare his love to its object.
He was in no wise daunted by the indignant scorn
and loathing with which she heard the proposal.
On the contrary, he resolved to compel her submission,
as soon as her health should be re-established,
for the idea of winning her heart by gentle
means never entered his head.
When M'Leod arrived, he was hospitably received,
but when he demanded that the prisoner
should be given up to him, Napah Keon desired
him to look round him, and take some other in
her stead. For a moment he was speechless
with astonishment, and then burst forth in a strain
of invective. But his rage made no more impression
upon the savage than rain does upon marble.
`Brother,' said He who had twice Flown, `it is
clear that you have been very ill educated, since
you talk so much like an angry woman. Your
heart is very weak. A man should bear so trifling
a loss with patience. There are plenty of
women in my camp, and I will give you any one
you please, if you cannot do without a wife. You
see that I am willing to deal justly with you; so
be not wroth, brother.'
`I will return with a band of half breeds, and
kill every one of you, if you do not give me the
white woman.'
`Ha, ha! The dogs dare not come to hunt
upon my grounds, unless a hundred together. I
shall grow gray waiting for them.'
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`You will see whether it be so or not.'
`Be pacified, brother. Give me your hand in
friendship; and I will make up the loss to you.
There are many girls here that I can dispose of.'
Finding remonstrance useless, M'Leod gave
over. He refused to smoke with Nopah Keon,
or take his hand; affronts which the Dahcotah
laid up in his memory, to be remembered at a fitting
opportunity.
To return from this retrospect to the course of
our story; after the Great Medicine dance was
over, the two chiefs held a consultation. Wawnahton
urged on the unwilling attention of his
countryman, that four women were enough for
any man, and that by retaining Flora he would
incur the ill will of all the whites, and that she
was the wife of his comrade. If he must have a
fifth spouse, there was no father in the tribe but
would gladly bestow his daughter on such a warrior
and hunter. To each and all of these reasons
the chief was as deaf as the adder.
That the English girl could do no labor, he
knew, he said, but his other women should work
for her. He cared not for the enmity of the
whites; they were a race of old women, created
by the Great Spirit to make guns and blankets,
and to be servants to the Indians. If they should
withdraw their trade, (the worst evil they could inflict,)
the Yanktons need not care, as long as there
was wood enough in their country for bows, and
buffaloes for food and clothing. He had buried
the woman in his heart, and his wife she should be.
`You speak like a boy,' said Wawnahton, `not
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like a wise man and a chief. This woman is not
a fit wife for a Dahcotah: moreover, her husband
is a soldier, and my comrade, and she must be
restored to him. He will kill you if you refuse.
Listen to me: return her, and I will give you ten
swift horses: If you will not, you shall be a chief
no longer. I will cut your lodges; and my people
shall kill all your horses and dogs. None
will listen to your voice afterwards. Think well
of it.'
Nopah Keon was compelled to submit. He
might brave the resentment of Gordon and the
whites with impunity, as he thought; but with
Wawnahton he was more likely to come in contact.
If he should, be contumacy, cause the horses of
his band, on which they mainly depended for support,
to be killed, he well knew that his authority
and influence were at an end. This was the evil
he most dreaded, and he therefore yielded with
the best grace he could.
`It is but a woman,' he said, `and two chiefs
should not quarrel for so small a matter. I will
take the horses you offer, for my people are much
in want of them. Take her, and do what you
will with her.'
She was soon conveyed by Gordon and Dés
Champs to the soldiers' lodge. This was contrary
to Indian usages, no woman having been ever
before suffered to profane that sanctuary. When
informed that she was a prisoner no longer, she
held out her hand to her lover. `It is of little
worth, dear William,' said she, `but such as it is,
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you have won it over and over again. Take it:
my heart goes with it.'
The horses were easily procured by Wawnahton,
and given as the price of her ransom. In
two days a dog sledge was made, with axes
and knives only. This vehicle is constructed of
two boards, about half an inch thick, eight inches
wide, and ten feet long. They are fastened together
with cletes, and the end is turned up like the
toe of a skate, that it may slip easily over the snow.
The whole is sewed with thongs of raw hide. Such
as are intended for the conveyance of the traveller,
have a structure upon them, in shape like the body
of a sleigh, made of parchment. Such a one was
arranged for Flora. The women of the band
gave her buffalo robes, and the grateful wife of the
chief bestowed upon her and Gordon her whole
stock of ornamented moccasins, the work of a
year; and which had been intended for herself and
her husband. Wawnahton resolved to escort them
to Pembinaw, with thirty of his best warriors. All
preparations for the journey were completed, and
even in the short time they had been in the camp,
Flora's condition was visibly improved.
In the morning all was ready for departure.
The young lady was carefully placed in her little
cariole, and covered with robes. The chief's wife
laid her hands on her head, wept and sung her regret
that she should never behold her again, her
hopes that she might find her husband faithful and
kind, and that she might be the joyful mother of a
boy, before the year should elapse. This
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ceremony over, they departed, and were saluted as they
had been on their arrival.
Nothing material occurred on the journey. Flora's
health mended from day to day, and by the
time they came in sight of Pembinaw river she
was almost well, and Gordon's wound was nearly
healed.
About two miles from the fort, they were perceived
by its inmates. Great terror and confusion
was the consequence, until one of the company's
clerks ascertained, by means of a spy glass, that
two white men, and a woman, were among the
Indians. Wawnahton and his men did not care
to go to the fort, though Gordon endeavored to
persuade them, and assured them they might do so
in safety. They remembered that the band of
Nopah Keon had lately killed several of the colonists,
and judging of the customs of the whites by
their own, they dared not venture among the
friends of the slain. A long colloquy was held
between Wawnahton and Gordon, the former
pressing upon the conviction of the latter the magnitude
of his services, and the propriety of giving
him a suitable reward. He wanted a few guns,
blankets, kettles, axes, &c. for himself and his
people, and he did not forget to mention that a
quantity of silver brooches, arm-bands, wampum,
beads, and above all a great keg of spirits, would
be very acceptable. They might be sent, he said,
by De Reinville, to Lac au Travers. Gordon
would fain have had him repair to the Company's
store at once, and there receive all that could be
spared, but no man is equally brave at all times,
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and Wawnahton was not just then in a humor to
throw away his body. Gordon promised, however,
to comply with all his requisitions in his own
way, and after shaking hands very affectionately,
they parted forever.
CHAPTER XI.
Half an hour, and they were in the fort. Flora
flew to her father's bed side, and was dreadfully
shocked at his reduced and miserable appearance.
At her entrance the old man turned his eyes, that
shone with a feverish brilliancy, and beheld his
daughter. `And are you here, my dear child, at
last?' said he. You are just in time to close the
eyes of your old father.'
`No, no, my father, do not say so,' said Flora,
speaking as fast as her sobs would let her.
`Not so, my child, my days, nay, my hours, are
numbered. No man ever recovered from such a
wound as mine. Perhaps you will be an orphan
before sunset. But have done sobbing, and listen
to the last command that I shall utter. I have
promised that Gordon shall marry you. Do not
turn away your head; this is no time to play the
coquette. Send for My Lord, he is a magistrate;
and let me see you have a protector instantly.
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Send for him and Gordon, and let the ceremony
be performed; and then I can depart in peace.'
There was no need to send for Gordon: he had
stood at the door and heard all. He advanced to
the bed side. `Father,' said he, `if I have had
evil thoughts of you, they are now removed. Believe
me, your child shall never have cause to repent
your goodness.'
`But father,' said Flora, `this is no time for
marrying, or giving in marriage. Consider the
shortness of the notice.'
`But me no buts; what need have you of any
more preparation. There is many a high born
dame who would be glad to change looks with you,
and give gold into the bargain, simple as you stand
there. Obey me, I charge you. Come hither,
young man, and take her hand. God bless you
both. May your lives be happier than mine, and
that your end may not be the same, leave this accursed
country, where God is not feared, nor his
image respected. But I feel my end draw nigh:
go, William, for his lordship; or I shall not see
myself obeyed.'
Gordon left the weeping bride to seek the Earl
of Selkirk.
When the Earl entered, he took Flora in his
arms, and imprinted a paternal kiss on her forehead.
He then congratulated her on her escape
from the Indians, which he attributed entirely to
the gallantry and perseverance of her lover, who,
he said, had fairly won her in the fashion of the
days of chivalry.
The old man now said to his lordship that he
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felt his breath failing fast, and desired him to proceed
with the ceremony. When it was completed,
the parties most interested turned towards him.
They spoke to him, but he did not answer. He
was dead.
During Gordon's absence, the myrmidons of the
Northwest, under the command of M'Leod, had
taken the Company's fort at Pembinaw. They
had plundered the stores, and destroyed the implements
of husbandry belonging to the colonists;
whom they had, moreover, maltreated and menaced
with expulsion. Under these circumstances
many of the emigrants, driven to despair, and
not knowing where to go, entered the service of
the Northwest.
The Earl of Selkirk heard of these outrages at
Quebec, and took measures to put a stop to them.
He procured several magistrate's commissions
from the Governor General; with the names left
blank, in order that they might be filled at his discretion.
Making all haste to Ossinneboia, he collected
all the men that could be spared from the
Hudson's Bay Company's posts on the route, and
enlisted as many of the gens libres as he could.
The tables were now turned. Pembinaw and
other places were retaken; and his lordship succeeded
in inspiring his colonists with new hopes,
that were never to be realized. But as we have
no interest in the earl, or his plans, farther than
they are connected with our story, we will, for the
present, take leave of them.
When Mrs Gordon recovered from the shock
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of her father's death, she urged her husband to
leave the country. One consideration only prevented
him from complying: he thirsted for vengeance
on M'Leod, and information arriving that
he had gone into the plains to hunt, gave him
an opportunity to effect his purpose. To all the
remonstrances of his wife, Gordon replied that
honor bound him to see that the murderer of his
friend did not escape from justice. He then requested
Lord Selkirk to invest him with the proper
authority, and to provide him a sufficient force.
His lordship answered that the criminal had with
him a band of ruffians, and that he could not, consistently
with the safety of the colony, give him
more than ten men. He said too, that M'Leod
and his satellite Reinhard were unworthy opponents
for a man of honor: but the bois brulé was
unmoved by these arguments. `If you will not
give me a man, my Lord,' said he, `I will go by
myself. I will watch him till I find him alone:
my friend Wawnahton taught me a lesson of that
kind. He is a villain, as you say, but I do not
therefore agree with you that he should be safe
from my hands: he can feel a shot or a stab, my
lord, as keenly as you or I. Yet I do not wish
to anticipate the hangman, and I will take him
alive if I can. Reinhard is a mere brute, as much
at the command of his master as the horse he
rides; but he is a dangerous brute, and must not
be suffered to go at large. My Lord, I am resolved:
will you give me the sanction of the law,
or shall I take it into my own hands?'
Finding him immoveable Lord Selkirk gave
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him a warrant and ordered ten of the gens libres
to attend him. Indians enough could have been
hired, but the Earl thought it a dangerous precedent
to establish. With this escort then, and his
adherent Dés Champs, our hero set out.
CHAPTER XII.
Do not repeat these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou art.
Winter's Tale.
Our hero approached the camp of M'Leod cautiously,
in the Indian manner, without suffering his
party to be seen. He picketed his horses in
a hollow three miles distant, where they might
graze out of sight, and at night sent spies into his
camp; but he only learned that Peter Pangman
was with his enemy, sick of an intermittent fever,
and that M'Leod had forty half-breeds with him.
In this manner four days passed, but on the fifth
night Dés Champs took upon himself the office of
spy, and penetrating farther than his predecessors
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had done, brought back information, that on the
morrow, the hunters were to chase the buffalo, and
that M'Leod and Reinhard would be left alone in
their lodge. On the receipt of these tidings Gordon
despatched a man to raise the cattle, and drive
them so far as to insure the protracted absence
of the half-breeds the next day. This being effected,
he moved to within a mile of the enemy with
his men.
At daybreak the bois brulés saddled their horses
and rode off. M'Leod came out of his lodge to
witness their departure, and when they were gone
re-entered it, totally unsuspicious of danger. He
was first apprised of it by the entrance of Gordon
with five followers, into the lodge, whom he at first
mistook for some of his own people returned from
the hunt. He started, and asked what had brought
them back so soon.
`Rise,' said Gordon; `rise and come with us
where you must render an account of your life.'
Recognizing Gordon's voice, he started up, as
did Reinhard. `I see,' he said, `into what hands I
have fallen. But I did not kill Cavenny; no, you
cannot prove it, and the law cannot condemn me.
Are you come to murder me here?'
`No, miscreant; I am not. That were a deed
worthy of you; not of me. Yet if I should slay
you, who could blame me? There hangs a sword:
if you think yourself unfairly treated; draw it, and
come on. If you conquer me, I promise that you
shall go free.'
`And who would trust to such a promise? If
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I should kill you, I should fall by the hands of your
men.'
Here Reinhard broke in. `Monsieur M'Leod,'
said he, `if you are inclined to surrender without
a struggle, so am not I. Let Gordon order his
men to retire, and I will trust his word. Come
sir, I see you wear a sword: let us forth, and we
shall see if you know how to use it.'
Gordon spoke to his men. `If I fall,' he said,
`let them go clear. Now, base assassin, come on.'
Reinhard met him boldly. He had expected
to overcome him easily, but Gordon was almost
his equal in skill, and his superior in activity.
Their blades crossed, and the young man attacked
his opponent fiercely. Reinhard defended himself
ably, but finding himself over-matched, he drew a
pistol from his belt and fired at Gordon's head.
He missed, and before the smoke cleared away,
he received a cut across his wrist, and his sword
dropped from his hand. Then he stood still and
sullen, expecting a mortal blow.
His expectations were near being fulfilled: Gordon's
men, who had watched the duel with intense
curiosity, now levelled their weapons, and would
have shot him, had not the bois brulé called to them
to forbear. `Wretch,' he cried, `I scarcely know
what hinders me from staking you to the earth.
Come, my men, bind up his wrist, and tie his elbows
behind him. Do the same for the brave
major. Dés Champs, go and bring Pangman, and
their horses hither.'
M'Leod submitted, in terror, and Reinhard doggedly,
without uttering a syllable. Pangman was
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dragged from under a heap of buffalo robes, where
he had concealed himself, without respect to his
feeble condition or his expostulations. Dés
Champs tied his wrists so tight as to give him great
pain, for it must be confessed that the half-breed,
as well as others of his rank and condition, had
little regard for human suffering. When the
wretched invalid was brought before Gordon, the
youth loosened his bonds, and rebuked his follower
for his inhumanity.
`You are the master, Monsieur,' said Dés
Champs. `I hope I know my duty to my bourgeois,
but please to recollect, that if we had fallen
into their keeping, we should have had worse treatment.
If I were master, I would not have all this
trouble with them.'
`What would you do, then?' asked Gordon.
`Carry home their scalps at my horse's bridle,
and help myself to whatever I liked in the camp,'
answered Dés Champs.
But Gordon did not like the counsel. The prisoners
were mounted on their own horses, with
their ancles secured under the animals. If we
were to say that the party left the camp as poor as
they entered it, it would be more than would consist
with strict truth. He who could exchange an
old garment for a new one, did so without scruple.
Sundry knives, blankets, pistols, &c, were taken.
To all this Gordon offered no opposition, for he
knew that the free men might, like the Indians, be
led, but not driven. The spoilers left the camp in
high glee. One of them had decorated his person
with the gorgeous laced coat and epaulettes of
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M'Leod; another wore his cap and feather, a
third had girt on his sword. Reinhard's apparel
was disposed of in a similar manner, and the wearers
of these equipments were looked upon with
envy by their less fortunate companions. A great
deal of the baggage of the camp, that could not be
conveniently carried away was wantonly destroyed.
It is unnecessary to relate the incidents of their
return to Pembinaw.
And now, gentle reader, we believe that all the
incidents essential to our story have been recorded.
If thy patience is not already exhausted, we
bespeak thy favor in behalf of our
A week after Gordon's return to Pembinaw, two
boats might be seen at the landing place of the
Company's fort, manned, and ready to descend the
river. An awning was erected on the hindmost,
and under it, on a pack of beaver skins, sat Flora
Gordon. Her husband and the Scottish Earl stood
on the shore, in the midst of the clerks of the Company.
At a little distance stood Dés Champs,
leaning on his gun, and looking sorrowfully at the
boats. The ceremony of leave-taking over, Gordon
turned to the half-breed, and desired him
to embark. He advanced, and touching his cap
respectfully, held out his hand to Gordon.
`What does this mean?' said the latter, `are
you not going with me?'
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`No Monsieur. You will perhaps think me
childish, or a mere Indian, to change my mind, and
break my word thus. But I have slept, and considered
the matter better. You have offered me
a home, and a support; and if I were to follow you,
I should be no more obliged to suffer cold, heat,
nor hunger, and my scalp would be safe, forever.
But I was once in Montreal, and I know not how
it was, but I had no relish for soft beds, nor good
cheer. I sighed for my native prairies; and I
should again. No, Monsieur, I must keep to my
horse, my gun, and my dog sledge. Adieu! you
will not, I hope, forget Antoine Dés Champs. I am
thankful for your kindness. May God conduct
you.'
`But Dés Champs,' added Gordon, much affected,
`you can go with me to Montreal, and if
you do not choose to remain, you can return in the
autumn. Besides I have not yet rewarded you
for your services. Indeed your determination has
broken up all my plans.'
`I am sufficiently rewarded already. Nevertheless,
if Monsieur Gordon pleases to bestow his gun,
and his horse on me, I should not be sorry.'
`You shall have them, and everything else I
leave behind. Stay, let me write a note to Mr
M'Donald to that effect,' and taking out his tablets
he wrote accordingly.
Dés Champs, who was a total stranger to the
delicacy which would have made many white men
refuse such a gift, took the paper without scruple
or thanks, and thrust it under his belt. He advanced
to bid Flora farewell. He paid her his
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[figure description] Page 194.[end figure description]
awkward salutations with some appearance of feeling,
and disembarked. The boatmen began to be
impatient, and called to Gordon to hasten.
`Well Dés Champs,' said the young husband, `I
will no longer try to persuade you. Farewell;
may God bless you. I will write to the head of
the colony to provide you with stores every winter
at my expense. Once more farewell.'
`Adieu, Monsieur,' said Dés Champs, shaking
his hand, and raising his cap from his head. He
held it in this manner until Gordon had embarked
and the boat was out of sight. He then replaced
it and turned away.
On the arrival of the party at Montreal, M'Leod
and his instruments were arraigned for the murder
of Cavenny, and of Governor Semple and his people,
in due course of law. The inhabitants of that
city still remember how bitter was the contention
of the two rival fur companies on that occasion,
and what efforts were made, and what means resorted
to, on the one side to produce, and on the
other to suppress the evidence. The Northwest
succeeded in procuring the acquittal of M'Leod
and Pangman. Reinhard admitted the part he
had taken in the murder of the Irishman, but informed
the jury, that he had stabbed Cavenny, after
he was shot by the Indian, Joe, `to put an end
to his sufferings.' Notwithstanding this humane
motive, he was found guilty of manslaughter, and
sentenced to be transported, for fourteen years.
What has become of him, or whether he is now
alive or dead, is not known.
M'Leod having refused a challenge from
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Gordon, found that Montreal was no place for him,
and returned to the Indian country. The last we
heard of him, he was trading with the Chyppewans
at Great Slave Lake. Pangman returned to Pembinaw,
where he is hunting the buffalo to this day.
Shortly after these occurrences, Gordon, by the
command of his father, crossed the Atlantic. It is
said that he now resides on the banks of the Esk
with his wife, and has a large family of sons and
daughters. Before he went, however, he fulfilled
his promise to Dés Champs. But that person did
not long live to be a tax on his bounty. In the
spring of eighteen hundred and twentyone he found
his death on the horns of a buffalo.
The two companies soon after discovered that
strife and opposition were to the advantage of neither.
They united; whereby a great number of persons
were thrown out of employment, and the number
of free men was greatly increased. Some of their
clerks came into the United States, and formed
the Columbian Fur Company, which after three
years opposition amalgamated with the North American
Fur Company.
Lord Selkirk returned to Scotland, and his colony
died a natural death. The processions, and
anathemas fulminated by the Catholic priest, availed
nothing against the grasshoppers or the spring
floods, and the settlers saw their crops destroyed,
year after year. At last they became convinced
that the country was uninhabitable, and concluded
to emigrate to the United States, believing
it better to risk themselves among the Bostonois
than to starve at Ossinneboia. In eighteen
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hundred and twentyfive, not thirty of the Swiss emigrants
remained at the colony. Many of them
settled at Vevay, on the Ohio, where they are
now cultivating the grape.
In the year eighteen hundred and twentyfour, a
party of American troops arrived at Pembinaw, under
the command of Major S. Long. Having
ascertained that the boundary line passed through
the village, the American flag was hoisted, amidst
the acclamations of an hundred Canadians and
half-breeds; not one of whom knew for what he
shouted. The village then consisted of about
twenty log huts, and a church, built of hewn timber.
At present it does not exist.
-- --
WEENOKHENCHAH WANDEETEEKAH.
She bore her wrongs in deep and silent sorrow;
Endured the anguish of a broken heart
In uncomplaining sadness; saw her love
Repaid with cold neglect. But stung at last
To the bosom's inmost core, she tried the sole
Effectual remedy despair had left her.
Unpublished Play.
[figure description] Page 197.[end figure description]
Shortly after the coureurs des bois began to
carry packs and drive dog sledges in the lands on
the upper waters of the Mississippi, there lived at
the Kahpozhah village, three leagues below the
mouth of the river St Peters, an Indian who was
the cynosure of the eyes of all the maidens in his
band. This was because of his rare personal
beauty; not of form, for that is common to all Indians;
but of countenance. His skill as a hunter,
and his bravery as a warrior, were qualities more
likely to recommend him to their parents; but
strange to say, the swarthy daughters of the forest
judged by the eye, as some authors have falsely
asserted their sex is in the habit of doing. The
object of their admiration had feminine features,
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and a skin lighter by five shades than the national
complexion of the Dahcotahs, and his hair, beside
being light, was also fine and glossy. He prided
himself upon it, and suffered it to grow long; thereby
grievously scandalizing the male population of
the village. His toilet was usually adjusted with
scrupulous accuracy; he changed the fashion of
his paint five times per diem, and his activity in
the chase enabled him to wear so much scarlet
cloth, and so many beads and silver broaches, as
made him the envy of those of his own age and
sex. Those who imagine that the aborigines are
all stoics and heroes, and those who think them
solely addicted to rapine and bloodshed, and are
therefore disposed to dispute the truth of this sketch
of Indian character, are informed that there are fops
in the forest as well as in Broadway; their intrinsic
value pretty much the same in both places.
The beau of the Northwest arranges his locks, and
stains his face with mud, by a looking-glass three
inches square. He of the city submits his equally
empty head to the hand of a friseur, and powders
his visage before a mirror in a gilt frame, in which
he can behold his estimable person at full length.
The former arrays his person with scarlet, and covers
his feet with deer skin and porcupine quills; and the
other gets a coat from Cox, whose needle, it is
said, has pierced more hearts than the shaft of
Cupid; and his feet prove the merits of Day and
Martin. The only difference we see between the
two is, that the savage kills deer and buffaloes, and
helps to support his family, while the white man is
often a useless member of society. Yet the
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elegance of the features of Toskatnay, (the Woodpecker)
for so was our Dahcotah dandy called,
and his taste in dress, were not his only merits.
The war eagle's plume which completed his array,
was an honorable evidence that he had acquired
a right to call himself a man. In fact, beneath an
almost feminine appearance, and much frivolity of
manner, he concealed the real strength of his character.
To the maidens who listened with glistening
eyes to his discourse, and blushed when he addressed
them, his motto seemed to be, `let them
look and die.' Exquisite as he was, his soul was
full of higher matters than love or gallantry. He
aspired to sway the councils of his people, and to
lead them in battle, and if he condescended to
please the eyes, and tickle the ears of the women,
it was only because he knew that it was the surest
way to exert an influence over the men. He was
not so much of a savage as not to know so much
of human nature. Yet he had no idea of marrying,
but as it might further his views; and to the
admiration of the young squaws he shut his eyes,
while against their complaints that `no one cared
for them,' he hardened his heart.
With all his schemes, he had not calculated upon
the power of the blind god, as indeed, how should
he, having never heard of such a personage? The
passion of which that deity is a type, he scarcely
believed to exist, certainly never expected to feel.
But his time was to come, and the connexion
he was destined to form, was to have a powerful
influence on his future fortunes. We are thus
particular in detailing his conduct and feelings, in
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order that our own countrymen may take warning,
and profit by his example. There is a use to be
found for everything, however mean, and he who
flirts with the brunettes and blondes that congregate
at Ballston or Saratoga, need not shame to
take a lesson from a Dahcotah heathen.
In the same village with our hero dwelt a damsel,
whose name, as it has not come down to us,
being lost in the exploit of which this true history
treats, we cannot tell, and shall therefore speak of
her as Weenokhenchah Wandeeteekah (the Brave
Woman) the appellation which her tribe give her,
in relating the story. This girl never praised Toskatnay's
attire, nor listened to his compliments,
nor sought to attract his attention. On the contrary,
she avoided his notice. Why she did thus,
we do not pretend to explain. We pretend not
to expound the freaks of passion, any more than
the profundities of philosophy, nor can we tell why
love should choose to show himself in such a capricious
manner. Let it suffice that she was
thought to hate our hero until an event occurred
that contradicted the supposition.
One hot day in July, a rabid wolf, (1) such as
are sometimes seen in the prairies, came to pay
the village a visit. The cornfields lay in his way,
and as animals in his predicament never turn aside,
he entered it. It so chanced that Weenokhenchah
Wandeeteekah was at that time using her hoe
therein, in company with other girls, while Toskatnay
stood near them, cheering their labor and
edifying their minds, pretty much in the style of
Ranger in the Jealous Husband. The wolf made
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[figure description] Page 201.[end figure description]
directly at him, and the girls seeing by the slaver
of his jaws, what ailed him, shrieked and fled.
Toskatnay, being no Yankee, could not guess the
cause of their terror, and was looking about for it,
when the animal was within five paces of him.
Weenokhenchah Wandeeteekah alone stood firm,
and seeing that he must inevitably be bitten, she
advanced and clove the beast's skull with her hoe,
contrary to the law in such cases made and provided
by novel writers, which ordains that the gentleman
shall rescue the lady from danger, and not
the lady the gentleman. Having thus done, the
color forsook her cheeks, and she swooned and
fell.
Toskatnay, though an Indian fine gentleman, did
not catch her in his arms, nor kneel by her. But
he did what was as much to the purpose. He
ran to the village, which was but a few rods distant,
and sent the women to her assistance. With
some difficulty they brought her to her senses.
From that hour his attentions, which had before
been considered by the girls as common property,
were confined to her. Love and gratitude prevailed,
and for a while his dreams of ambition were
forgotten. He wore leggins of different colors, and
sat all day upon a log, playing on a flute with three
holes, and singing songs in her praise. When she
was gone to cut wood, he was not to be found in
the village. He gave her beads and vermilion,
and in short played the Indian lover in all points.
Indian courtships never last long, and ere the
leaves began to fall, Weenokhenchah
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Wandeeteekah was the wedded wife of Toskatnay. For a
time, he forgot his nature and his former prepossessions,
and he even saw three war parties leave
the village without testifying much concern. But
these halcyon days did not last long. A mind like
his could not be content with ignoble triumphs
over the brute tenants of the woods and prairies.
His excursions grew longer in duration, and more
frequent in occurrence, and at last the poor bride saw
herself totally neglected. Another cause concurred
in this result. She belonged to a family that could
boast no hero, no chief, nor any wise man among
its members, and her husband saw with regret that
he had formed an alliance that could never enhance
his importance in his tribe. The devoted
affection, and unwearied attention with which she
endeavored to recall his heart, only filled him with
disgust. Within the year she made him a father,
but the new relation in which he stood, did not
reclaim him. In the eyes of his people, he pursued
a more honorable course: he joined every warlike
excursion, obtained the praise of all by his
valor; and once by his conduct and presence of
mind, when the camp in which his lodge was pitched
was surprised, he saved it, and turned the tables
on the assailants. In consequence, he was thought
worthy to be a leader of men, and became the
head partizan in two successful inroads on the
enemies' country.
He was envied as well as admired. Many
there were, older than himself, who aspired to the
objects of his ambition, and one in especial,
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[figure description] Page 203.[end figure description]
without a tithe of his merits, outstripped him in his
course by means of extended connections, and
thwarted him in every particular. This was a
man named Chahpah, (the Beaver) about forty
years of age. He had nine wives, whom he supported
in the usual style, and their relations were
at his beck. Jealous of the growing influence of
Toskatnay, he opposed his opinions, and turned the
weak parts of his character into ridicule. The
young warrior felt this deeply, and revolved in his
own mind the means of making the number of his
adherents equal to that of his rival. There were two
ways presented themselves to his acceptance; the
one to take to his lodge more wives; and the other,
to continue to exert himself in the field. By the
latter means, in the course of time, if he was not
untimely cut off, he would attain the desired distinction.
By the former his object would be effected
more speedily.
An opportunity soon occurred to measure his
strength with his fellow aspirant. The Beaver,
not content with the limits of his harem, demanded
in marriage the daughter of the Heron, a noted
warrior. The father asked time to consider the
proposal. While the matter was in abeyance,
Toskatnay heard of it, and resolved not to lose so
good a chance to further his own projects and
mortify the man he hated. He went that very
night to the Heron's lodge, lighted a match at his
fire, and presented it to the eyes of the maiden.
She blew it out, and after some conversation with
her, carried on in whispers, he retired. In the
morning he smoked with the Heron, and in plain
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[figure description] Page 204.[end figure description]
terms asked his daughter to wife. The old man
liked Toskatnay, and moreover, was not entirely
satisfied that his offspring should be the tenth
bride of any man. He accepted the offer without
hesitation, and the nuptials were solemnized forthwith,
to the great displeasure of the Beaver.
It is unnecessary to say that he was not the only
person displeased. Weenokhenchah Wandeeteeka
thought this second marriage a poor requital
of the service she had rendered her husband, and
expostulated with him. But ambition swallows
all other passions, as the rod of Moses swallowed
the other rods, and Toskatnay had become intensely
selfish. He desired her to mind her own
affairs, and as polygamy is reckoned creditable by
the Dahcotahs, she had no pretence to quarrel,
and was obliged to submit. With an aching heart,
she saw another woman take the place in Toskatnay's
regard that she considered her own, and
often did she retire to the woods to weep over her
infant, and tell her sorrows to the rocks and trees.
Quarrels will happen in the best of families, and
so was seen of Toskatnay's. The two wives did
not agree, as might have been expected, and the
husband always took the part of the new comer.
Moreover, when he joined the hunting camps, the
Heron's daughter accompanied him, while Weenokhenchah
Wandeeteeka was left at home; he
alleging, that having a child to take care of, she
could not so well be the partner of his wanderings.
It was in vain that she protested against this reasoning.
An Indian husband is, if he pleases, absolute,
and she was obliged to acquiesce. It was
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[figure description] Page 205.[end figure description]
not, in truth, that he preferred his new spouse, but
he wished to conciliate her family. The poor
malcontent had the mortification besides, to see
that he neglected his child, and this was the unkindest
cut of all.
At last, the second autumn after her marriage,
it so happened that the band attached to Toskatnay
was to move up the Mississippi, and hunt upon
its head waters. As the journey was to be
made by water, there was no objection to Weenokhenchah
Wandeeteeka being of the party, and
the two wives assisted each other in the necessary
preparations. In the afternoon they came to the
falls of St Anthony, and carried their canoes and
baggage round it. They encamped on the eastern
shore just above the rapids. Such a description
as we are able to give of this celebrated cataract,
from recollection, is at the reader's service.
There is nothing of the grandeur or sublimity
which the eye aches to behold at Niagara, about
the falls of St Anthony. But in wild and picturesque
beauty it is perhaps unequalled. Flowing
over a tract of country five hundred miles in extent,
the river, here more than half a mile wide,
breaks into sheets of foam and rushes to the pitch
over a strongly inclined plane. The fall itself is
not high, we believe only sixteen feet perpendicular,
but its face is broken and irregular. Huge
slabs of rock lie scattered below, in wild disorder.
Some stand on their edges, leaning against the
ledge from which they have been disunited. Some
lie piled upon each other in the water, in inimitable
confusion. A long, narrow island divides the
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[figure description] Page 206.[end figure description]
fall nearly in the middle. Its eastern side is not
perpendicular, but broken into three distinct leaps,
below which the twisting and twirling eddies
threaten destruction to any living thing that enters
them. On the western side, in the boiling rapids
below, a few rods from the fall, stands a little island,
of a few yards area; rising steep from the waters,
and covered with forest trees. At the time
of our story, its mightiest oak was the haunt of a
solitary bald eagle, that had built his eyrie on the
topmost branches, beyond the reach of man. It
was occupied by his posterity till the year eighteen
hundred and twentythree, when the time honored
crest of the vegetable monarch bowed and gave
way before the wing of the northern tempest. The
little islet was believed inaccessible, till two daring
privates of the fifth regiment, at very low water,
waded out in the river above, and ascending the
fall by means of the blocks of stone before mentioned,
forded the intervening space, and were the
first of their species that ever set foot upon it.
Large trunks of trees frequently drift over, and
diving into the chasms of the rocks, never appear
again. The loon, or great northern diver, is also,
at moulting time, when he is unable to rise from
the water, often caught in the rapids. When he
finds himself drawn in, he struggles with fate for a
while, but finding escape impossible, he faces
downwards and goes over, screaming horribly.
These birds sometimes make the descent unhurt.
Below, the rapids foam and roar and tumble for
half a mile, and then subside into the clear, gentle
current that continues unbroken to the Rock
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[figure description] Page 207.[end figure description]
River Rapids; and at high water to the Gulf of
Mexico. Here too, the high bluffs which enclose
the Mississippi commence. Such was the scene
at the time of this authentic history, but now it is
mended or marred, according to the taste of the
spectator, by the works of the sons of Adam. It
can shew its buildings, its saw mill, its grist mill,
its cattle, and its cultivated fields. Nor is it unadorned
with traditional honors. A Siou can tell
you how the enemy in the darkness of midnight,
deceived by the false beacons lighted by his ancestors,
paddled his canoe into the rapids, from
which he never issued alive. He can give a good
guess too, what ghosts haunt the spot, and what
spirits abide there.
To return to our story: Toskatnay and his
band passed the falls and raised their lodges a
few rods above the rapids. It so happened that
evening, that a violent quarrel arose between
the two wives, which the presence of some of the
elders only, prevented from ending in cuffing and
scratching. When the master of the lodge returned,
he rebuked them both, but the weight of
his anger fell on Weenokhenchah Wandeeteekah,
though in fact, the dispute had been fastened on
her by the other. She replied nothing to his reproaches,
but his words sunk deep into her bosom,
for he had spoken scornfully of her, saying
that no Siou had so pitiful a wife as himself. She
sobbed herself to sleep, and when the word was
given in the morning to rise and strike the tents,
she was the first to rise and set about it.
While the business of embarkation was going
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on, it so chanced that the child of the poor woman
crawled in the way of her rival, and received a
severe kick from her. This was too much for
the mother. Vociferating such terms as are current
only at Billingsgate and in Indian camps,
for squaws are not remarkable for delicacy of expression,
she fastened upon the Heron's daughter
tooth and nail, who was not slow to return the
compliment. Luckily their knives were wrested
from them by the by-standers, or one or both
would have been killed on the spot. This done,
the men laughed and the women screamed, but
none offered to part them, till Toskatnay, who was
busy at the other end of the camp, patching a birch
canoe, heard the noise, and came and separated
them by main force. He was highly indignant
at an occurrence that must bring ridicule upon
him. The Heron's daughter he reproved, but
Weenokhenchah Wandeeteekah he struck with
his paddle repeatedly, and threatened to put her
away. This filled the cup of her misery to over-flowing:
she looked at him indignantly and said,
`You shall never reproach me again.' She took
up her child and moved away, but he, thinking it
no more than an ordinary fit of sullenness, paid no
attention to her motions.
His unkindness at this time had the effect of
confirming a project that she had long revolved in
her mind, and she hastened to put it in execution.
She embarked in a canoe with her child, and
pushing from the shore, entered the rapids before
she was perceived. When she was seen, both
men and women, among whom her husband was
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the most earnest, followed her on the shore, entreating
her to land ere it was too late. The river
was high, so that it was impossible to intercept
her, yet Toskatnay, finding his entreaties of no
avail, would have thrown himself into the water
to reach the canoe, had he not been withheld by
his followers. Had this demonstration of interest
occurred the day before, it is possible that her
purpose would have been forgotten. As it was,
she shook her open hand at him in scorn, and
held up his child for him to gaze at. She then
began to sing, and her song ran thus.
`A cloud has come over me. My joys are
turned to grief. Life has become a burden too
heavy to bear, and it only remains to die.
`The Great Spirit calls, I hear his voice in the
roaring waters. Soon, soon, shall they close over
my head, and my song shall be heard no more.
`Turn thine eyes hither, proud chief. Thou
art brave in battle, and all are silent when thou
speakest in council. Thou hast met death, and
hast not been afraid.
`Thou hast braved the knife, and the axe; and
the shaft of the enemy has passed harmless by
thee.
`Thou hast seen the warrior fall. Thou hast
heard him speak bitter words with his last breath.
`But hast thou ever seen him dare more than
a woman is about to do?
`Many speak of thy deeds. Old and young
echo thy praises. Thou art the star the young
men look upon, and thy name shall be long heard
in the land.
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`But when men tell of thy exploits, they shall
say, “He slew his wife also!” Shame shall attend
thy memory.
`I slew the ravenous beast that was about to
destroy thee. I planted thy corn, and made thee
garments and moccasins.
`When thou wast an hungred, I gave thee to
eat, and when thou wast athirst, I brought thee
cold water. I brought thee a son also, and I
never disobeyed thy commands.
`And this is my reward! Thou hast laughed
at me. Thou hast given me bitter words, and
struck me heavy blows.
`Thou hast preferred another before me, and
thou hast driven me to wish for the approach of
death, as for the coming winter.(2)
`My child, my child! Life is a scene of sorrow.
I had not the love of a mother, did I not
snatch thee from the woes thou must endure.
`Adorn thy wife with ornaments of white metal,
Toskatnay. Hang beads about her neck.
Be kind to her, and see if she will ever be to thee
as I.'
So saying, or rather singing, she went over the
fall with her child, and they were seen no more.
One year precisely from this time, Toskatnay
followed the track of a bear which he had wounded,
to the brink of the falls. He halted opposite
the spot where Weenokhenchah Wandeeteekah
had disappeared, and gazed on the foaming rapid.
What was passing in his mind it is impossible to
say. He had reached the summit of his
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ambition. He was acknowledged a chief, and he had
triumphed over the Beaver and the Chippeways.
But her for whose sake he had spurned the sweetest
flowers of life, true love and fond fidelity, had
proved faithless to him, and fled to the Missouri
with another man. He had nothing farther to
look for, no higher eminence to attain, and his reflections
were like those of him who wept
because he had no more worlds to conquer. A
strange occurrence roused him from his reverie.
A snow white doe, followed by a fawn of the
same color, came suddenly within the sphere of
his vision; so suddenly, that they seemed to him
to come out of the water. Such a sight had
never before been seen by any of his tribe.
He stood rooted to the ground. He who had
never feared the face of man, trembled like
an aspen with superstitious terror. The animals,
regardless of his presence, advanced slowly
towards him, and passed so near that he might
have touched them with his gun. They ascended
the bank and he lost sight of them. When
they were fairly out of sight, he recovered from
the shock, and stretching out his arms after them,
conjured them to return. Finding his adjurations
vain, he rushed up the bank, but could see nothing
of them, which was the more remarkable
that the prairie had just been burned over, and
for a mile there was no wood or inequality in the
ground, that could have concealed a much smaller
animal than a deer.
He returned to his lodge, made a solemn feast,
at which his relatives were assembled, and sung
his death song. He told his wondering auditors
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that he had received a warning to prepare for his
final change. He had seen the spirits of his wife
and child. No one presumed to contradict his
opinion. Whether founded in reason or not, it
proved true in point of fact. Three weeks after,
the camp was attacked by the Chippeways. They
were repulsed, but Toskatnay, and he only, was
killed.
No stone tells where he lies, nor can any of the
Dahcotahs shew the spot. His deeds are forgotten,
or at best, faintly remembered; thus showing
`on what foundation stands the warrior's
pride;' but his wife still lives in the memory of
her people, who speak of her by the name of
Weenokhenchah Wandeeteekah, or the Brave
Woman.
-- --
LA BUTTE DES MORTS.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up;
And the flesh'd soldier — rough and hard of heart —
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range
With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins, and your flowering infants.
Henry V.
[figure description] Page 213.[end figure description]
La Butte des Morts is, as its name implies,
a little hill at the confluence of the Fox and Wolf
rivers, and in the angle between them. From its
summit the voyageur may have a view of the lake
of Graise d'Ours to the east, and of a long reach
of the Fox River, and many a rood of fat prairie
land to the westward. When he is tired of beholding
the prospect, he may descend to the water
side, and amuse himself by shooting at the blue
winged teal, the most delicious of the feathered
creation, as they fly past him in myriads. He
will do well not to fire if they fly high, for they
are fattened on the wild rice of the river, and
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[figure description] Page 214.[end figure description]
usually burst open on falling. Or if he is given to
moralizing, he may go to the field between the hill
and the woods, and speculate on the bones that
have been whitening there for more than the age
of man.
`There the slow blind worm leaves his slime
On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time.
The knot grass fetters there the hand
That once could burst an iron band.'
The last time the author was on the spot, a pit
had just been dug on the top of the hillock, and
in it were put, with shrieks and howling, the remains
of a noted Winnebago brave, whose war
cry had been heard at Tippecanoe and the battle
of the Thames. At the head of the grave was
planted a cedar post, on which the rude heraldry
of the natives had emblazoned the rank and
achievements of the deceased. Three black emblems
represented three American scalps. Let
us be forgiven, reader, for dwelling on the place.
Silent and solitary as it now is, it is the scene of
events that mayhap it will please thee to hear related.
Alas, that strife and slaughter, and the
extermination of a native tribe should be pleasant
things for us to write, or for thee to read.
About the year seventeen hundred and twentyfive,
the principal village of the Saque nation
stood on the Butte des Morts. Here the Saques
were accustomed to stop traders passing into the
Indian country, and to exact of them a tribute; as
the Winnebagoes have since done. The traders
submitted with reluctance; but there was no help.
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At last, emboldened by impunity, the savages increased
their demands; so that a total cessation of
the trade was likely to ensue; and bickerings
arose between the plunderers and the plundered.
In the autumn of seventeen hundred and twentyfour
a hot headed young Canadian trader refused
to pay the customary tribute, and severely wounded
a Saque who attempted to take it forcibly.
He was instantly shot dead and scalped, and his
boat was pillaged. Some accounts say that his
men were killed too, but this part of the story,
though probable, is not certain. As no notice of
the affair was taken that winter by the authorities
commissioned by the Grand Monarque the insolence
of the Saques increased greatly, and they
imagined in their ignorance that the French stood
in fear of them. But in this they reckoned without
their host, or rather without Jean St Denis
Moran.
The Sieur Moran, a man of a decided and energetic
character, held an office in the French
Indian Department. He was, moreover, an old
campaigner and had been at Friedlingen and
Malplaquet. When tidings of what had happened
were communicated to him at Quebec, his mustachios
twisted upward for very anger, and he
swore, sachristie! and mort de sa vie! that the
Saques should repent their presumption. In order
to the fulfilment of this laudable vow, he demanded
of the commanding officer at Quebec
that three hundred regulars should be placed at
his disposal, and the request was granted. With
these troops he proceeded to Michilimacinac,
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where he remained till the first of October, to mature
his plans.
Here he caused eight or ten Macinac boats to
be constructed. For fear that some of our readers
may not know what a Macinac boat is, we
will try to inform them. It is a large, strong built,
flat bottomed boat, pointed at both ends, and peculiarly
adapted to the Indian trade; in which it
is often necessary to ascend and descend dangerous
rapids. It is always furnished with a parlas,
or sheet of painted canvass, large enough to protect
the lading from the weather. But this equipage
was never used for the purpose for which
the Sieur Moran designed it before nor since.
Furthermore, he provided many kegs of French
brandy, and all things being in readiness, proceeded
from island to island across the head of
Lake Michigan to Green Bay. Here he might
have speculated on the phenomenon of a tide in
fresh water, as Mr Schoolcraft and other learned
philosophers have done; but different matters
occupied his mind. He encamped, and sent a
messenger to the Hillock of the Dead to require
the instant surrender of all persons concerned in
the late breach of the peace, as well as reparation
for all robberies and injuries committed by the
offending tribe. The Saque chief laughed the
summons to scorn. `Tell our father,' said he,
`that the Saques are men. Tell him too, that
even if he should in earnest be disposed to punish
his children, they have legs to take them out of
the way, if he should prove too hard for them.'
Having made this lofty speech, he looked round
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with much self-complacency, and when the concurrence
of the audience had been signified, he
added, `I am a wise man.' Had he foreseen the
consequences of his words, it is probable his opinion
of his own wisdom would have suffered some
diminution.
He smoked a pipe with the disconcerted envoy,
gave him to eat, and desired him to make the best
of his way back to whence he came.
On receiving this answer, M. Moran convened
a band of Menomenies that had encamped in the
vicinity, and whose chief, unless tradition deceives
us, was called Auskinnawwawwitsh. To him the
old soldier communicated his intention of bringing
the Saques to condign punishment, and requested
his assistance. `Father,' replied Auskinnawwawwitsh,
`what you say is good. You are
a wise man. We have wished to see you a great
while, because we are very poor, and we know
that you are rich. We have few guns, and no
ammunition or tobacco, and our women have no
clothing. Above all, we want a little of your
milk,[7] to make us weep for our deceased relations.
(1) So kind a father will give us all these
things. But wisdom requires that we should deliberate
on your proposal. Father, a little of your
milk will brighten our understandings.' And to
all these sayings the inferior Menomenies assented
with a grunt, or groan of applause, for it might
be called either.
M. Moran was obliged to acknowledge the
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justice of these axioms. He supplied the immediate
wants of the savages, and gave them a keg of
brandy. The consequence was, a frightful riot
of three days duration, in which three of the intended
allies were killed. Auskinnawwawwitsh
required a further delay of three days, `to cry for
the slain;' and he even suggested that a little
more milk would make the tears flow faster, and
more readily. To this hint, M. Moran returned
a peremptory refusal. In the mean while, the
crafty Menomenie sent to the Saques a warning
of their danger; but they persisted in believing
that they would not be attacked, and that they
should be able to defend themselves if they were.
After the mourning had terminated, Auskinnawwawwitsh
announced the result of his deliberations.
`If my father,' said he, `will give us the
land the Saques now live upon, and if he will
make us a handsome present, and if he will give
us more of his milk, we will assist him.' To all
which postulates the Sieur Moran agreed, only
stipulating that the payment should take place after
the work was done.
M. Moran told the Menomenies that he should
want them after two sleeps, (2) and dismissed
them. Then he loaded one of his boats with merchandize,
not forgetting a goodly quantity of brandy,
and gave her in charge to a non-commissioned
officer and four Canadian boatmen. They received
his instructions to ascend the river to the
Butte des Morts, and there suffer the boat to be
pillaged without resistance or remonstrance. They
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were then to proceed a few miles further, encamp,
and wait for further orders.
His orders were obeyed to the letter. The
Saques plundered the boat, and drinking the
brandy, were soon in no condition for attack or
defence. Now was the time for Moran to act,
and fearfully did he avail himself of it.
A mile below the Hillock of the Dead, and on
the same side of the river, is a stream, just wide
enough to allow a Macinac boat to enter, a few
rods. To this the Sieur Moran succeeded in
getting, at noon, the day after his advanced boat
had passed. Here, out of sight of the village, he
landed his Menomenies and half of his soldiers.
He ordered them to gain the woods in the rear of
the Saques, and there wait till the firing commenced
in front. When sufficient time had elapsed
for his orders to be obeyed, the remaining
troops couched in the bottoms of the boats, with
their arms ready, and were covered with the canvass
before mentioned. This done, he put off,
and the crews, disguised like boatmen, rowed up
the river, singing this ditty, which is still popular
in the North-west.
Tous les printemps,
Tant de nouvelles,
Tous les amants
Changent de maitresses.
Le bon vin m'endort;
L'amour me reveille.
Tous les amants
Changent de maitresses.
Qu'ils changent qui voudront,
Pour moi je garde la mienne
Le bon vin m'endort;
L'amour me reveille.
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They were soon within ken of the village. The
Saques, not expecting the entertainment prepared
for them, rejoiced at the sight. They were all
drunk, or at least, suffering the effects of intoxication.
`Here come the traders to supply us with
fire water and blankets,' they said to each other;
`Let us make haste to the spoil.' The women
screamed with delight, the children bawled in
concert, and the host of dogs added to the uproar.
Young and old hurried to the water side.
As the foremost boat came opposite the crowd
of dark forms on shore, a dozen balls were fired
athwart her course. None struck her, but the
proximity was sufficiently intimate to show that
her further progress would be attended with danger.
(3) `Scie, scie partout,' cried the frightened
steersman, and the rowers backed water simultaneously.
M. Moran rose, and commanded the
interpreter to ask what they wanted. `Skootay
wawbo, skootay wawbo,' (fire water) shouted five
hundred voices. `Shore,' said Moran, and as
the other boats were now alongside, they all
touched the ground together.
`I let you all know, that if you touch anything
in the boats, you will be sorry for it,' cried the interpreter.
But an hundred hands were already
dragging them farther aground, and his voice was
drowned by the clamor. `Help! help! thieves!
thieves!' cried Moran, in a full deep tone. At
once the coverings were thrown off, and an hundred
and fifty soldiers were brought to view, as if
by the spell of an enchanter. `Fire!' cried Moran.
The muskets flashed, and twenty Saques
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fell dead where they stood. To the poor misguided
savages, the number of their enemies
seemed treble the reality. They fled precipitately
to their village, to prepare for defence.
Two minutes sufficed for the troops to form and
pursue.
The Saques found at their lodges another and
more terrible enemy than the French. A Menomenie
had entered the place unsuspected, and set
it on fire on the windward side. (4) The wind was
high, and in a few moments the frail bark dwellings
were wrapped in a sheet of flame. The
Saques then retreated toward the woods in the
rear, one and all. Ere they were reached, Moran's
reserve met them, and they were placed between
two fires. Then burst forth one heart-rending,
agonized shriek; and the devoted Saques
prepared to defend themselves with the courage
of despair. Ball and bayonet now began their
bloody work. The victims were hemmed in on
every side. The Menomenies precluded the possibility
of escape on the flanks, and the knife and
glittering tomakawk cut off what the sword had
spared. The inhabitants of the village fought
with unshrinking courage. Few asked quarter;
none received it. They perished, man, woman,
and child. The horrors of the dreadful tragedy
may not be repeated, yet in less than an hour it
had been enacted, and the actors were gone. A
heap of smoking ruins, and a few houseless dogs,
howling after the dead bodies of their masters,
were the only objects the sad hillock presented.
But five Saque families, that had been absent at
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the time, survived the slaughter; the poor remains
of what had been a considerable tribe. They left
their country, and emigrated to the Mississippi,
where they incorporated with the Foxes, and
where their descendants remain to this day.
It is due to the Sieur Moran to say, that he did
all he might to mitigate the fate of his victims.
But his voice was exerted in vain. Victorious
troops are seldom merciful in the field, and the
Menomenies would not be restrained. There was
no room for rapine, for there was nothing to take;
but Lust, and red handed Murder, stalked openly
over the Butte des Morts on that day. From this
carnage of the Saques it derived its name.
That evening, Auskinnawwawwitsh appeared
before the Sieur Moran, and demanded the promised
recompense. `Let what you have seen be
a warning to you,' said the leader. `If your people,
now masters of the soil, offend in the same
sort, be assured, they shall drink of the same cup
that the Saques have drained.'
eaf381.n6[6] The Hillock of the Dead.
eaf381.n7[7] Ardent spirits.
-- --
PINCHON.
[figure description] Page 223.[end figure description]
Well does he love the cork to draw,
And deep the circling wine cup quaffs;
But scorns religion and the law;
At God's own chosen priest he laughs.
His is the spirit that delights
To drag the wild wolf from his den;
To spurn the altar and its rites,
And trample on his fellow men.
New Ballad.
Antoine Pinchon was one of the first traders
who pushed their fortunes among the Dahcotahs.
At that time the Indian trade was profitable.
Packs of beaver could then be obtained more easily
than single skins now. Buffaloes and deer
abounded, and muskrats and martins were as
plenty as mice. The times have changed: the
buffalo has receded hundreds of miles; a beaver
is a curiosity to a Dahcotah, and the best hunter
finds it difficult to collect a pack of rats in a season.
Yet it was not the thirst of gain that drew
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[figure description] Page 224.[end figure description]
Pinchon into the country; but the love of adventure
and excitement, acting upon his mind, as
nettles might have operated on his flesh.
He was born near Montreal, of parents of pure
Norman descent. In his childhood, no rod, no reproof,
could restrain him from the exercise of his
own free will. If he did not learn to read and
write, it was not wholly his fault, for his father
was a true Canadian, and held such Yankee notions
as schools in religious abhorrence. As the
youth grew in stature, he grew in iniquity also:
he was a rough rider of races on Sundays, between
mass and vespers; the first at the cabaret,
and the last out of it, and by the time he was
twenty he was the dreaded bully of the whole
seigneurie, and had qualified himself for the gallies,
or even the gallows. Totally ignorant;
scarcely knowing right from wrong; not a day
passed in which he did not make his father's heart
ache. An intrigue with a damsel, toward whom
he stood within the prohibited degrees of affinity,
finally determined his parents to get rid of him,
before worse came of it.
Among his comrades and boon companions,
the voyageurs returned from the frozen north and
northwest, stood highest in his esteem. The blue
capot, with the capuchon negligently thrown back,
the garnished moccasins, and the bright sash, the
usual costume of the coureurs des bois, were certain
passports to his good will. With these hardy
travellers he loved to talk, and still better to drink,
while their speech was of the wonders they had
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and had not seen. He was never weary of hearing
them dilate upon
—`Antres vast, and deserts idle,
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.'
For such tales would he exchange his time
and coin; and he had long resolved to become
one of the class he so much admired.
He was therefore delighted, when his father,
after a long lecture, during which he yawned most
irreverently, proposed to him, as a last chance of
amendment, to engage with M. Louis Provencal,
who wanted men to winter with him on the river
St Peters. He acceded to the proposal without
hesitation, and accompanied his parent to the trader's
lodgings, and was straightway hired at five
hundred livres per annum.[8]
We do not hold up this worthy as an object of
admiration, nor do we ask that he should even be
pitied; but as the story of his fortunes may aid
our purpose to elucidate Indian manners and character,
we have thought fit to communicate them
to the world.
Had we the pen of Plutarch, or the greater Sir
Walter, we see no reason why the exploits of the
hero, or rather scoundrel of our story, should not
be as much admired as the feats of Romulus, or
Rob Roy, or indeed any ruffian and robber of ancient
or modern times.
To return to our argument: after receiving the
benediction of his father, and what he valued
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more, a small purse of coined silver, stamped
with the effigies of the most puissant Louis, Pinchon
embarked with six of his compeers on board
M. Provencal's boat, and they left the quay singing
the air from which Mr Moore took the hint
of that elegant misnomer, `The Canadian Boat
Song.' Thus did the ditty run.
Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré
Trois cavaliers bien montées
Lon, Lon, laridon daine,
Lon, Lon, laridon dai.
Trois cavaliers bien montées,
L'un à cheval, et l'autre à pied.
Lon, lon, laridon daine,
Lon, lon, laridon dai.
They soon reached `Utawa's tide,' and as long
as they were in the vicinity of the settlements, the
bourgeois allowed his men to stop at pleasure,
and fed them well with pork and beans, but once
in the wilderness, there was an end to this treatment.
They now only stopped at the end of the
pipe or league (1) and their food was hard Indian
corn and tallow, a quart of one and an ounce of
the other, per diem. Yet upon this fodder, they
retained their health and spirits. As nothing important
occurred in this stage of the journey, we
shall not pretend to give an account of it. It
may not be amiss, though, to state, that before the
boat reached the portage at Lake Nipissing,
Pinchon had fought and beaten every man in the
company, M. Provencal excepted.
They coasted the northern shore of lake Huron,
sometimes getting nearly out of sight of land,
and crossing from one island to another, setting
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the sail when the wind was fair, and plying the
oars when it failed. On one occasion the courage
and presence of mind of our hero saved the
boat, and the lives of all on board. The boat was
going steadily before a fresh breeze, about four
leagues from shore, when it struck upon a sunken
reef of rocks. A hole, big enough to have sunk
a first rate, was beaten in its bottom, yet it rubbed
heavily over, and got clear. The water rushed
in fearfully, yet five of the boatmen, as well as
the bourgeois, instead of exerting themselves for
her relief, betook themselves to their patron saints
for succor. Joe Le Duc, the steersman, almost,
if not altogether as great a reprobate as Pinchon,
was not so absurd, yet he dared not let go the
helm, as the boat might have broached to in the
swell. He called to our hero to thrust his bedding
into the hole, and his voice was heard, and
promptly obeyed. Pinchon stuffed three blankets
into the leak which was about to let in fate,
and called to the rest to keep the boat free, with
bowls and platters. `Les sacrés coquins!' said
he to Le Duc, `as if God or the saints would
help fools and cowards!' The water was kept
under till they reached an island, under the lee of
which the boat was unladen, hauled ashore, and
repaired.
They crossed the head of Lake Michigan, and
traversing the opaque waters of Green Bay, arrived
at the rapids of Fox river. Here Pinchon demanded
of M. Provencal, that his wages should
be put on an equality with those of the old hands,
in consideration of his superior strength and
-- 228 --
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usefulness. He had carried burthens, he said, at the
several portages, of double the weight the rest
could endure, and he had walked in the rapids
and pushed the boat, where they had been unable
to stand. If the bourgeois did not think proper
to comply, he declared that he would desert, and
find his way back to Macinac as he might. Rather
than lose so valuable a hand, M. Provencal
yielded, though the demand was mutinous, and
without a precedent.
Arrived at the eastern end of Winnebago Lake,
the boat was prevented from crossing by a head
wind. It was now the latter part of September, and
they had ample time to admire this beautiful sheet
of water, as it lay embosomed between its lovely
shores, and covered with ducks, geese, and countless
flocks of snow white swans and pelicans.
Their attention was, however, withdrawn from these
things, by the arrival of three hundred savages in
their war paint; the inhabitants of the neighboring
Winnebago village. They swarmed about the boat,
and were clamorous for the accustomed tribute,
paid by traders on passing the lake, and seemed
much disposed to help themselves. M. Provencal
gave them something, but they were not satisfied
with his liberality. The plunder of the boat
seemed inevitable, and it was more than probable
that the extermination of the crew would follow.
At this moment, Pinchon coolly asked M. Provencal
if he wished him to save his boat, and as
he stood irresolute, resolved to do that service,
whether it was desired or not. Chippeway is the
court language of all the northwestern tribes east
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of the Mississippi, and most of these unwelcome
visitors understood it. So did Le Duc, who had
wintered three times at Lake Superior. Our hero
desired him to ask the Winnebagoes what they
wanted, and the reply was, gunpowder. To
work he went, and having placed all the powder
kegs in the centre of the boat, in the midst of the
cases of bullets, he told Le Duc to desire them to
draw near. They came to him; some producing
their powder horns, others their calico shirts,
and in short, everything that might contain the
nitre. `Now, Le Duc,' said Pinchon, raising his
voice, `tell them to let their bravest man come
forward, and take what he wants. Tell them that
he who puts his hand on anything here, does it
at his peril. With these words he knocked in the
head of one of the kegs, cocked his gun, and buried
its muzzle in the powder.
His words were not understood by the Indians,
but his motions were. In an instant all was outcry
and confusion: never was such a rout seen.
Those who sat on the boat plunged overboard, as
did those alongside. They dived, and swam
away, faster than Indians ever swam before or
since. Those on shore fled on the wings of terror.
Let them not, however, be branded with
cowardice. Not many of these people would
have shrunk from death, if duly warned. But
the shock was too sudden for their nerves. Indeed,
it must be allowed that to scale the skies
mounted on a fiery dragon can be no very pleasing
prospect to any one. The Indians gained
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[figure description] Page 230.[end figure description]
their village with all possible expedition, and no
more was seen of them.
The wind fell with the sun, and the boat proceeded.
From that day a warm friendship between
Le Duc and Pinchon took its date. Similarity of
disposition and natural gifts cemented it. M.
Provencal rued the day he had enlisted the one
or the other; for they not only tyrannized over
the men, but gained the ascendency over him.
They leagued together for every kind of mischief,
treated him with contempt, and would only obey
his orders when they tallied with their own inclinations.
To return: the party proceeded onward, passed
the portage, descended the Wisconsin and
ascended the Mississippi to the Grand Encampment.
Here they found a great body of Dahcotahs
assembled. These had, though so early in
the season, so large a quantity of furs, that M.
Provencal thought it worth his while to stop and
collect them. This could not be done without
considerable delay, as the ownership of the skins
was to be decided by a race, upon the result of
which the greater part of them were staked, and
the competitors had not all arrived.
Here, then, they remained two days, gambling,
fishing, and shooting ducks and geese. The
third morning the drum beat, and the racers, all
active men, prepared for the trial. This was done
by stripping to the skin, and rubbing their limbs
with bears' oil. Never have so many manly and
symmetrical forms been seen in any other part of
the world. Yet here it excited no attention.
-- 231 --
[figure description] Page 231.[end figure description]
Beauty of figure is so common among the Dahcotahs,
that the absence of it would be the wonder.
About two miles distant, the post was set up.
The racers were to touch it, turn, and return to
the place from whence they started; where they
were to touch another post. The wagers on the
race were many. When all was nearly ready,
an old man approached with a pack of beaver on
his back, followed by his son, to where the whites
were standing; and asked if any of them were
disposed to try their speed. The challenger was
a Yankton, and his boy was the swiftest runner in
that sept. They had come all the way from Lac
au Travers to try if any of the Munday Wawkantons
(People of the Lake) might compete with
those of the prairies. Le Duc brought his gun,
and then untied the pack of furs. Taking out
ten of the best skins, he laid them by the side of
the fowling piece, and told the ancient that he
was willing to run with his son on that wager.
The Yankton smiled, and selecting ten more of
his beaver added them to his stake, telling the
Canadian that the bet should stand so. The
stakes were put into the hands of M. Provencal:
Le Duc stripped, and took his place beside his
challenger in the line of racers.
An elder gave the signal for starting, by dropping
a French flag from the end of a pole. Then
were heard screams of delight from the women,
as their sons, husbands, or lovers gained in the
contest. The old men shouted, excited to the
last degree, and the dogs howled; some of them
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[figure description] Page 232.[end figure description]
followed their masters, and getting between the
legs of the runners, entangled and threw them
down, but none appeared to mind it; they rose
again and strained every nerve to regain the lost
ground.
At the first start, several ran abreast, and it
was difficult to say which, of half a dozen, had the
advantage. After the first half mile, the young
Yankton was ahead, Le Duc breathing on his
shoulder. The Indian exerted himself to the utmost
for the honor of his band, conscious that the
eyes of all were upon him. He gained the post
first, seized it with his left hand, swung himself
lightly round, and traced his course backward.
`So swift Camilla scours along the plain.'
But he had put forth his power too soon, and
before he had run over half the ground from the
distance post, it was observed that his speed
slackened. Le Duc now ran abreast with him,
trying to increase his confusion by asking him if
a Yankton could run no faster, and the like taunts.
When within three hundred yards of the goal,
the white man darted ahead and came bounding
to the end of the course like a race horse, leaving
the Indian fifteen paces behind him.
The others arrived in quick succession, and
the stakes were given up to the winners. The
Yankton took the whole pack from which the beaver
had been drawn, and laying it at the feet of Le
Duc, said, `I was never outrun before; and I did
not think there was a man alive could do it. Take
all my furs, for you have won them fairly.'
But to show that there were some things in
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[figure description] Page 233.[end figure description]
which he could outdo all the white men that ever
lived, he seized his bow and quiver. Sending the
first arrow into the air, he loosened ten more from
the string before the first touched the ground;
and he looked at Le Duc, as who should say,
`beat that if you can.'
Pinchon demanded what the Indian had said,
and being informed, cried, `tell him, Le Duc,
that there are two men living who can beat him.
If he accepts the challenge, give him back his beaver,
and I will put my gun against them, and run
with him tomorrow morning, as soon as he gets
rested.'
These words being interpreted, the young savage
looked inquiringly at his father, who in his
turn looked at Pinchon, and said, `he is too big
to run well.' The youth then accepted the defiance,
and proposed to start instantly, declaring
that he was not at all fatigued. Pinchon would
not believe it, and persisted in remaining tranquil
till the next day.
On the morrow, the same spectators who had
witnessed the first race assembled to behold the
second. Pinchon demanded four guns of M.
Provencal, and having obtained them, appeared
on the ground. The savages asked what he
meant to do, and when he declared that he intended
to run with the guns on his shoulders, a
general burst of laughter proclaimed their utter
scorn of his presumption. Le Duc too, entreated
him to lay aside all thoughts of such a contest,
but Pinchon desired him to mind his own affairs.
Without stripping, and with two guns on each
-- 234 --
[figure description] Page 234.[end figure description]
shoulder,(2) he started, and beat his rival with
even more ease than Le Duc had done. The
laughing was now on the other side. The mortified
Yankton looked around, expecting another
white man to come forward to dispute the
honors of the race with him. He stood sullen,
with his hand on the handle of his knife, prepared
to plunge it in the body of any that should offer.
No one thought of the thing, and he vented his
disappointment in words, which, luckily for him
and all concerned, Pinchon did not comprehend.
When M. Provencal had made the most of his
market, the boat moved up the river, and in due
time arrived at Rocher Blanc, on the St Peters,
where the voyageurs erected buildings for the
winter. In the course of the season Pinchon acquired
enough of the Sioux tongue for common
purposes, and learned all the tricks of the Indian
trade to perfection. Nothing worth recording
happened at the station; but towards the spring,
our hero and his friend, judging from the deportment
of M. Provencal, that he intended to withhold
their wages, and conscious that their behaviour
had deserved it, burst into his apartment one
day when all the rest were absent. Holding a
cocked pistol to his breast, Pinchon compelled him
to write and sign a certificate that they were the
two best men he ever had under him, as also a
document recommending Pinchon, as a person
deserving the trust and confidence of all persons
concerned in the Indian trade; and also competent
to manage an outfit. Possessed of these
papers, the friends stole a canoe and deserted;
-- 235 --
[figure description] Page 235.[end figure description]
leaving their wives; for they had not failed to take
unto themselves wives, to console themselves as
they might. They soon reached old Michilimacinac,
subsisting themselves on the way by their guns.
On the strength of M. Provencal's recommendation,
M. La Salle, the superintendent of the depot,
furnished Pinchon with an assortment of Indian
goods, a boat, and men to take it into the
Indian country. Le Duc was also engaged as
an interpreter, with a handsome salary.
Yet he could not depart from Michilimacinac
without playing a prank that had nearly deprived
him of the fruits of his villany. In spite of the
remonstrances of his interpreter, he resolved to
personate a priest who was expected from Montreal.
Having procured a cassock, he caused it
to be given out that the Reverend M. Badin had
arrived; as indeed, he was expected before night.
In his disguise our hero heard the confessions of
all the voyageurs who were not in the secret. He
possessed himself of their private histories, assigned
them penance and received fees. Yet
was he not content without playing a practical
joke on the priest himself.
There was in the settlement a mangeur de lard,
or pork eater, as the raw engagés are called, just
arrived from Quebec. This poor fellow, as ignorant
as his class in general, and being naturally
none of the brightest, applied to the confessional
of the supposed clergyman. The sham apostle
magnified some peccadilloes that he confessed into
mortal sins, and read him a sharp and severe
lecture. This edifying discourse he seasoned
-- 236 --
[figure description] Page 236.[end figure description]
with scraps of Latin, which he had picked up at
mass, and which sunk the deeper into the penitent's
mind that he did not comprehend a syllable
of them. Finally addressing the simpleton by
the title of `vile sinner,' he allotted him a penance.
It was to go into the fur magazine, and
sit on the top of the packs till midnight. While
there, Pinchon told him that the devil would appear,
in the disguise of a priest, and entice him to
come down. `But mind, my son,' said Pinchon,
`that you do not consent; for if you do, you will
be torn to pieces.' The fellow assured him that
no consideration should induce him to descend,
and having received his blessing, departed. In
the evening, the real Simon Pure, the true priest,
arrived. Having divested himself of his disguise,
Pinchon called on him, paid his respects, and informed
him that there was a man in the fur store,
who appeared to be troubled in mind on account
of his sins, and it was feared that he would lay
violent hands on himself. Very willing to do a
good action, M. Badin repaired to the spot. At
the sight of him the pork eater trembled from
head to foot, and his hair bristled upright. The
following dialogue ensued.
M. Badin. What is the matter, my good
friend? Do you not know me?
Voyageur. Ye—yes. I know y—you—we—
well enough. God be merciful un—unto me a
sinner! For my sins, I—I know you.
M. Bad. If you know me, come down, and
tell me what ails you.
Voy. No, no. I know better than that.
-- 237 --
[figure description] Page 237.[end figure description]
Good M. Badin told me what to do—blessings on
him!
M. Bad. Why, my good man, my name is
Badin; I am sure I never told you anything.
Voy. Ay, ay, just so. I was told how it
would be. Bah! how hot it is. How he smells
of brimstone.
M. Bad. Is the man mad? Do you smell
brimstone already? come down; put yourself into
my hands, and it may be, that I can save you
from it.
Voy. Put myself into your hands! No doubt
you would be glad to carry me off, but I don't
choose such company. Come down—thank you,
Monsieur Devil, as much as if I did. They call
me a fool; but I'm not so simple as that, neither.
Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis!
M. Bad. Come down you wretch; I lose all
patience with you. Do you call a servant of the
Holy Catholic Church a devil! Come down, I
say; come down.
Voy., crossing himself. St Thomas be good
to me! St Peter hear me! Pray, sir, if it is not
too much trouble, let me see your foot.
M. Bad., holding out his foot. There is my
foot, you foolish fellow; what do you want to see
it for?
Voy. The cloven hoof may be concealed in
that leather, as the tail is under the cassock, no
doubt. Please to take off your boot and stocking.
M. Bad., pulling off his boots. There, wretch,
are both my feet. Do you take me for the Devil
-- 238 --
[figure description] Page 238.[end figure description]
still, you irreverent knave? Will you come
down?
Voy. No, I will not, if you stay there till
morning. The long and the short of it is, Monsieur
Satan, I know you, and I will not be persuaded.
So you may as well be off, for here I
am resolved to stay. O, for a little holy water to
throw upon you.
M. Bad. Then I'll fetch you down.
Voy., seizing a fish spear. Avaunt! Mount
not here, at your peril. Stand off, I say. In the
name of our Saviour, stand off.
Finding his skull impenetrable, M. Badin left
him to the enjoyment of his imaginary triumph.
A short inquiry served to explain the matter.
The other voyageurs who had been tricked, had
discovered who the rogue that had tricked them
of their money was. Some laughed, but more
were highly indignant at the deception. M. La
Salle, a strict and pious Catholic, was greatly
scandalized at this treatment of all he held sacred,
and he told M. Badin he would deprive Pinchon
of the outfit he had furnished, being convinced
that heaven would never prosper the labors of
such a sacrilegious wretch. With this sentiment
the priest agreed, but it had been better, not expressed
so loudly. Joe Le Duc was passing under
the window, and hearing the name of his comrade,
stopped to listen, and learned the intention of the
superintendent, which he immediately communicated
to Pinchon. The wind being fair, that
gentleman assembled his men, embarked, and set
sail. Six days carried him to the foot of
-- 239 --
[figure description] Page 239.[end figure description]
Winnebago lake. The Indians here waited upon him
with every demonstration of respect, and if they
remembered the experiment he had made on
their courage the season before, it was to his advantage.
As to the Mangeur de Lard, on whom he had
inflicted so whimsical a penance, the fright threw
him into a fever and delirium, in which he raved
of Satan and Monsieur Badin. When he at last
recovered, he could never be persuaded that he
had not seen his infernal majesty; nor could he
ever after look upon M. Badin without shuddering.
In less than a month Pinchon arrived at Lake
Pepin and set up his winter quarters at Point
aux Sables. He gave out the greater part of his
goods, as is common in the Indian trade, to different
savages, on credit; for which he was to receive
payment in the spring, when their hunt
should be over. Le Duc kept his accounts.
They sent for their wives, but did not long keep
them, for they put them away and took others;
according to the custom of Indian traders, before
and since; caring little what might become of
the children that had been born unto them in
their absence. This was repeated several times
in the course of the winter, for Indians are very
willing to give their daughters to white men,
knowing that they will not be compelled to labor.
The time did not hang heavy on their hands, for
they spent it in gaming, fishing, hunting the deer,
and other amusements of a wintering ground.
eaf381.n8[8] Six to a dollar.
-- 240 --
No, nothing melts his stony heart,
Soft Pity never mov'd his mind;
All human ties he rends apart,
A ruthless tiger to his kind.
[figure description] Page 240.[end figure description]
M. Provencal arrived at the lake a short time
after Pinchon, and passing his house without stopping,
proceeded to the mouth of the river St
Croix, where he intended to winter. Here he
stationed himself, doing Pinchon all the damage
he could; visiting the camps where his debtors
were hunting, and trying his best to persuade them
to dishonesty, in which he was frequently successful.
Pinchon retaliated in kind, and these
worthies used their liquor freely to corrupt the
Indians; both well knowing that they might be
bribed to any act of knavery or outrage, by such
means. This is the real operation of alcohol, in
its various forms, upon the remote tribes; they
do not get enough to do them any physical injury,
but in the way it is used, it weakens or destroys
the moral principle in their breasts.
As it happened, it was so used by M. Provencal,
as to render Pinchon very unpopular with the
Sioux. One of his debtors had been
-- 241 --
[figure description] Page 241.[end figure description]
seduced to defraud him, and sell the produce of his
chase of Provencal. In an evil hour for the unhappy
savage, he went to the house of his injured
creditor, arrayed in all his ill gotten finery. Pinchon
had heard of his behavior, and when he appeared
before him in a new white blanket, with
scarlet leggins, and his ears stretched with the
weight of their silver ornaments, the Frenchman
could scarce suppress his wrath. He however
curbed his temper long enough to ask the Indian
what he had done with the produce of his hunt.
`I had so few furs,' he replied, `that I was
ashamed to bring them to you; I therefore sold
them to the Wopayton (trader) up the river.'
`You are a dog,' said Pinchon. `You are
worse than a dog. The blanket you have on, belongs
to me, and so does everything about you.
You bought them with my beaver. I care not for
the value, as you shall presently see; but I will
not be so treated.' So speaking, he tore the
blanket from his back, and cast it into the fire,
holding it down with his foot, till it was utterly
spoiled. The savage saw it consume with a smile
of bitter contempt, and said, `the Frenchman
loved his goods too well; his heart was hurt by
little things.' Had he held his peace, it had been
better for him; for Pinchon, enraged at his coolness,
seized him with the grasp of a giant, and
wresting from him the knife he had drawn to defend
himself, cut off both his ears with it, close to
his head, ear-rings and all. Holding the silver
up before his eyes, he upbraided him with his
knavery, and then sent them after the blanket.
-- 242 --
[figure description] Page 242.[end figure description]
When he had in some degree assuaged his choler,
he thrust the man, to whom he had shown
so little mercy, out of doors, with insult and violence.
Le Duc, who, ruffian as he was, was of milder
mood than his principal, blamed Pinchon for this
outrage in no measured terms. He told him, that
he should not be surprised if he should lose all the
debts due him, in consequence. He replied, that
he cared not; he would never submit to insult,
even if he lost his life, as well as his goods, for
resenting it.
The next day, the band among whom he had
trusted his goods, arrived in their canoes, and encamped
beside his house. They were, most of
them, related to the sufferer of the day before.
He presented himself in their lodges, and related
how he had been treated; declaring that he would
kill Pinchon the first opportunity. The ideas of
the aborigines concerning property are not very
strict, and they were moved with indignation that
one man should have the heart to mutilate and
disgrace another, for the paltry consideration of a
few beaver skins. They attributed the conduct
of Pinchon to avarice, and grief at losing his merchandize.
With one accord they determined not
to pay him. They were resolved, furthermore,
to get what they could from him, and then leave
him to bite his nails. Such is Indian revenge;
seldom, unless in extreme cases, visited on the
person of the offender, but commonly on his property.
On this occasion, had Pinchon been possessed
of a horse, or a dog, it would have been
-- 243 --
[figure description] Page 243.[end figure description]
shot. They would have destroyed his boat, but
that they were sure from his weak heart, or in
other words, his violent temper, it would cost whoever
should attempt it his life.
It is, or it was, customary for Indian traders to
give the savages a small quantity of liquor, when
they came to pay their debts. The savages, on
the present occasion, thronged about the house of
Pinchon, and requested the performance of what
they considered a duty on his part. He gave
them each a dram, and promised more, when the
furs should be delivered. They insisted on having
it then, and he refused as positively. Finally,
after much vain importunity, they went off, declaring
they would pay him nothing; no, not so
much as the skin of a muskrat.
`A pretty mess of pottage you have cooked for
your own table!' said Le Duc. `You will lose
the whole outfit, and it will never do for us to go
back to Macinac. If you had let that fellow's
ears alone, you might have filled the boat with
beaver. Now, all is lost.'
`Be not troubled, Joe. I will punish the villains
for their insolence, and fill the boat to your
satisfaction besides.'
`Despardieux! talk not of violence, or punishment.
We have had enough of that already. It
is doubtful if we escape with our lives. Do not
make matters worse.'
`You are a fool, Joe. Let me alone, and I
will set matters right.'
Confiding in the fear with which his courage
and great strength had inspired the Indians, he
-- 244 --
[figure description] Page 244.[end figure description]
took an axe, and going to the beach, demolished
every one of their canoes, so that it was impossible
for them to depart as they had threatened.
Had this been attempted by another, death would
have been the consequence. As it was, the women
cried, `ishtah! eenah, enah, eenomah!' and
the men looked on, declaring that the Great Spirit
had made him mad, but no one offered to interfere.
This object effected, he returned to the
house.
The morning before, he had killed a deer, and
the carcass still hung entire in his store room.
He pulled it down, and cut the flesh into small
pieces, which he put into a large kettle and hung
over the fire. When the meat was cooked, he
emptied it into a great wooden bowl, and ordered
all his people to quit the house. They obeyed
without question, for they saw that his mood was
dangerous. He then enveloped himself in a buffalo
robe, and sallied forth, holding the bowl over
his head.
He bent his steps toward the encampment,
passed through it, and turned back, calling the
dogs as he went along. Some three or four bundred
of these animals, attracted by his cries, and
the smell of the venison, followed him. The savages
left the feast untouched, and came out of
their lodges to look upon him. They spoke to
him, asking what he was about, but he deigned
no answer. They now believed him mad in earnest,
and the looks of anger and hate which had
been bent on him a few minutes before, changed
to respect and admiration. (2) He proceeded to
-- 245 --
[figure description] Page 245.[end figure description]
the house, entered it, and when all the dogs had
followed him in, shut the door upon himself and
them. Then he scattered the meat among the
animals, and sitting down, covered his whole person
with the buffalo robe. The dogs, as he had
expected, fell to fighting. The walls shook with
the noise. Growling, snarling, and cries of pain
mingled together, and the roof seemed about to
escape from the hubbub.
If the Dahcotahs had been astonished at first,
they were now still more so. They demanded
the reasons of his conduct of Le Duc and the
men, but they could give no information. One of
the elders went to the door and cried with a loud
voice, `What are you doing, Tahkoo Kokeepishnay?
(he who fears nothing.) Are you mad, or
what is the meaning of all this?'
This was precisely the question he had wished
to elicit. He replied, `Go away, and leave me
quiet. I am onsheekah, and you have made me
so. You have been feasting with your comrades,
and shall I not do the same with mine? I am a
dog, and with dogs will I abide.'
This was touching them in the most sensitive
point. Without stooping to entreaty, he had made
it incumbent on them to pay him immediately.
He had put himself below them in the scale of
being. He had declared himself on a level with
dogs; and was it for them to afflict or injure so
wretched a being? No; they ran to the lodges,
and all; men, women, and children, joining in the
work, they brought their furs, and piled them up
before his door. When they had finished, he
-- 246 --
[figure description] Page 246.[end figure description]
came out and liberated their dogs. He was immediately
carried to the camp and feasted, and
the hand of friendship was tendered to him.
`What do you think of it now, Joe?' said he,
as he returned from the camp.
`Think? I scarcely know what to think,' replied
Le Duc. `I think that you are the devil, or that
he helps you.'
`I told you I would load the boat, and punish
them!'
`You have done both. Let me look at you
again. Nomme de Dieu! who would have thought
of such a thing? I never should, I am sure.'
The boat was laden, and rowed away, before
the dispositions of the Indians had time to change.
When it arrived at Michilimacinac, it was acknowledged
by all, that such a cargo of furs had
not been brought thither for years. He went and
confessed to M. Badin, obtained absolution, and
M. La Salle gave him another outfit.
The insults he supposed he had received from
the Sioux, rankled in his mind, which retained its
impressions like brass. He therefore resolved to
be revenged on them, and to that effect ascended
the Sault de St Marie, and coasted the south
shore of Lake Superior, to Burnt Wood River,
where he set up his Ebenezer for the season, and
took a wife of the daughters of the Chippeway
tribe, as did his friend and comrade, Le Duc.
He gave out his goods on credit, as usual, and sat
down to enjoy himself.
Shortly after, Wawbiskah, (The White) who
had lost a son by the hands of the Nahtooessies, (3)
-- 247 --
[figure description] Page 247.[end figure description]
stung with the desire of revenge, blacked his face,
and caused a temporary lodge to be erected in
the midst of his camp. Having communicated
his intentions to Pinchon, that good Catholic
cheerfully gave him a yard of scarlet to hang up
in the midst, and informed the chief that he intended
to consider himself a Chippeway for the
time being, for which he obtained much applause.
Wawbiskah then entered the lodge, and having
cut some tobacco, filled his pipe and smoked.
The Frenchman, being first instructed by Le
Duc how to behave, followed Wawbiskah into the
lodge. He drew the scarlet through his left hand,
sat down, and smoked some of the tobacco already
prepared. Others, Chippeways, followed his example,
and they began to tell their dreams to
each other. Wawbiskah had dreamed that he
had shot a deer, and when he approached the carcass,
it proved to be that of a Siou. The dreams
of all the party were favorable to the projected
enterprise. Pinchon declared that he had dreamed
of driving the whole Siou tribe into an enclosure,
and destroying them like rats in a trap. As
a reward for his visions, Wawbiskah said no
person was so fitting as him to carry the great
medicine bag. (4) This was a sack, filled with
feathers, bones, skins of rattle-snakes, &c. Then
the whole party, twentythree in number, repaired
to Wawbiskah's lodge, where a feast of dog's
flesh was provided. After the animal was demolished,
a kind of kettle drum was beaten by
the chief, who accompanied the music with his
-- 248 --
[figure description] Page 248.[end figure description]
voice, the whole party joining in chorus. The
words of the song might be something like this:
`Master of Life! look down on thy children,
who have suffered wrong at the hands of the Natooessies,
and are now about to avenge it.
`Master of Life! prosper our enterprise; let
us not be seen by the enemy, and defend us from
evil spirits.
`Master of Breath! return us safe to our wives
and children, that they may eat venison and fat
bear's meat, and let us take many scalps.'
The partizan then rose, and standing erect in
the midst, drew his blanket around him with great
dignity, and addressed his intended followers with
emphasis and energy. `They were now,' he said,
`to set their feet on the enemies' territory. The
Great Spirit had approved their enterprise, and
had promised to deliver their foes an easy prey
into their hands, even as a salmon trout into the
hands of the fisher. They were to slay the Natooessies,
or lead them captive, and compel them
to hew wood and draw water. If there were any
present who would not believe the express words
of the Almighty, now was the time for them to
recede. He wished no such company. The
Great Spirit had granted them an unusual favor,
in giving them a white man to assist their councils
with his wisdom; and to him an important
trust was confided. Wherefore, he exhorted them
to fear no evil, but to go on in full confidence of
success.' At the conclusion of each period, a
unanimous guttural sound of applause ensued, and
at the conclusion, they all cried, `That is it. That
-- 249 --
[figure description] Page 249.[end figure description]
is right.' In the morning of the morrow, they set
forth, in Indian file, Wawbiskah taking the lead.
For the first three days, they travelled without
much precaution, conversing by day, and sleeping
by fires at night. Their provision for the journey
was parched corn, and maple sugar, and such
small game as they could strike with arrows.
This was not much, for the use of these weapons
had already fallen into desuetade among the
Chippeways. Pinchon, painted and accoutred
like an Indian, carried the great medicine bag,
parting with it neither by night nor day. Not that
he attached any importance to its presence or
preservation, but he knew that if any accident
befel it, the whole party would turn back.
On the fifth day, they entered the frontier of
the Siou hunting grounds. All idle conversation
was prohibited; the chief marched several furlongs
ahead, observing the way before him. Towards
night, they fell in with a track in the snow,
and instantly stopped, smoked, and consulted. It
was agreed by all to go no farther, and they slept
in a small thicket, without a fire.
In the morning, two declared that they had
dreamed unfavorable dreams, and were resolved
to return. Their sentiments excited neither surprise
nor remark. They departed on their way
homeward, and the rest proceeded. Following
the track seen the preceding evening, it brought
them to the river St Croix, and they fell upon
a broad trail, which, by indications well known to
all Indians, they ascertained to have been made
by the passage of two lodges of Sioux. They
-- 250 --
[figure description] Page 250.[end figure description]
perceived in the snow the tracks of four men, and
thirteen women and children, the usual proportion
of hunters to the helpless classes of aboriginal population.
Scouts now went ahead and surveyed the route.
The party moved with the utmost caution, making
slow progress. Thus they went on two days.
Late in the second afternoon, Wawbiskah came
back at full speed, and announced to the main
body, that he heard the enemy's drums at a distance.
In fact, the Sioux had made a good hunt,
and were now holding a feast, which was destined
to be fatal to them, as it had hindered them from
going abroad and discovering their enemies.
As the aborigines take no measure without
smoking, the Chippeways stopped, and lit their
pipes. Their measures were carefully debated.
Pinchon gave his voice for moving on, and attacking
immediately; but this was a degree of temerity
his companions did not approve. They might
lose two or three men by adopting his counsel.
He was overruled by the advice of Wawbiskah,
who said it was better to remain where they were
till nightfall, and then to approach, and attack just
before daybreak.
When the shades fell, the moon shone forth in
unclouded brightness, and the Chippeways slowly
and cautiously approached the Siou camp. Towards
midnight, the sky became overclouded, and
the chief proposed, in whispers, that some one
should reconnoitre the enemy, and ascertain how,
and where, the men lay, that the first volley might
be conclusive. None of the Indians appearing
-- 251 --
[figure description] Page 251.[end figure description]
willing to undertake this service, Pinchon volunteered
to perform it. Availing himself of the cover
of the trees, he advanced upon his slumbering
victims, and when within hearing, he threw himself
on all fours, encumbered as he was with the
medicine bag, and crept onward, as the settingdog
steals upon the partridge. He heard no voices,
yet he crawled round the lodges, till he was
satisfied that all were fast in their last sleep. He
was mistaken, however. Just as he rose to depart,
he heard some one stir, and a man came
out, and stood before him. While he was hastily
revolving in his mind the means to escape without
giving the alarm, the Siou spoke. `Where
are you going?' said he. `Are you on the same
errand as myself?'
`The moment he spoke, Pinchon discovered,
by the tone of his voice, that he was the identical
Dahcotah whose ears he had cut off the preceding
spring. The question was answered with a
stab, which reached the heart. The Siou fell,
without a groan, into a snowdrift, which received
him without betraying his fall. The white savage
took off his scalp, and rejoined his congenial comrades.
When the first approaches of daylight were
seen in the east, the Chippeways approached the
lodges, with such caution that they were not discovered.
Lying prostrate, they levelled their
guns parallel with the earth, and discharged a volley,
which killed and wounded half the inmates,
the three men among the others. Then, rising to
their feet, the valley echoed with the terrific notes
-- 252 --
[figure description] Page 252.[end figure description]
of the war-whoop. The lodges were instantaneously
prostrated, and their shrieking tenants discovered.
By right of having taken the first scalp, our
hero (5) led the van of the party on its return, and
entered the camp at its head. Le Duc had so
managed the trade in his absence, that his interest
had not suffered, and the result of his conduct was
to his temporal advantage.
Shortly after, the savages removed from the
vicinity of his house, leaving but three lodges. It
so chanced that the Dahcotahs soon learned the
damage they had sustained, and resolved to retaliate.
A party of seventeen took the war path,
and after a journey that we need not describe,
arrived at the Burnt Wood River, where they fell
upon tracks leading to Pinchon's house. While
preparing for the attack, a Chippeway, who had
been benighted in the chase, discovered them, as
he returned. He threw down the deer he carried
on his back, and gave the alarm. The Indians
rose, as well as their trader and his interpreter.
The Dahcotahs, burning with rage at the
death of their kindred, (for they were all of the
same family) and seeing that the Chippeways only
counted five men, attacked instantly. The latter,
posted behind the trees, and seconded by their
white allies, maintained the combat resolutely,
while their women loaded their canoes, in order
to cross the river. The battle was, like most other
Indian battles, conducted with too much
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circumspection to be very bloody. Yet ere morning
broke, five of the assailants, and one of the Chippeways,
had fallen. Two more were wounded,
as were Le Duc and Pinchon. When the light
increased, so that the features of the contending
parties were visible to each other, the Sioux discovered
that our two friends were among their
enemies. Their anger was extreme. These men
had eaten their bread, married among them, and
had children in their lodges. They renewed the
conflict with redoubled fury, pressing on at all
points. By this time, the helpless, the aged, and
the five voyageurs of the establishment, were out
of danger. The Indians prepared to follow, in
the single canoe they had left behind, and
entreated the whites to accompany them. Pinchon,
now in his element, positively refused to
leave his house to be plundered and burned, and
for once, Le Duc agreed with him. They covered
the retreat of the red men, and then darted
into the building.
The Dahcotahs, thinking that their prey was
now in their hands, rushed towards the house,
with loud shouts, but were taught more caution by
seeing two guns flash through a crevice, and two
more of their number drop. They took to the trees
again, and fired at the door and windows. As no second
report came from within, they concluded that
the ammunition of the defenders was exhausted, and
they were confirmed in this view of the matter, by
hearing our hero sing his death song. Nevertheless,
it was but a stratagem to entice them within
reach. He knew that by keeping up a distant
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fire he could do them little damage, and hoped
to decoy them into such a position that he might
destroy them all.
The Dahcotahs, encouraged at the prospect of
killing the two white men, and in some degree
revenging their slain, ventured from their covers
and mounted the roof of the house. Here they
held a short consultation. It would have been
vain to apply fire, for the roof was covered with
snow, and under that, with damp earth. The
timbers were green, and while they were trying
to ignite them, the enemy might have returned in
force. No mode of access seemed so feasible as
by the chimney. Down it, then, they resolved to
risk themselves. The voices beneath did not
seem to come from the apartment into which it
afforded a passage, and they trusted to effect the
entrance without being discovered: when once
in, they believed that their knives and tomahawks
would overcome any opposition that two men
could make, whatever their strength and courage
might be.
Cautiously, as if going into a panther's den, the
first Indian entered the chimney. When his head
was below the top, another followed, and then another.
The funnel was short, and could only contain
three.
`A fine condition we are in,' said Le Duc; `before
another week our scalps will be drying in the
smoke of a Sioux lodge.'
`Are you afraid, Joe? I thought you a braver
man,' replied Pinchon.
`I am no more afraid than yourself, but we have
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not another hour to live. Hark! do you hear
them getting down the chimney? Let us fire our
guns up at them.'
`No, no, do not be in a hurry. I tell you we
shall kill them all, and winter next year on the
St Peters, with their kindred. Hear them in the
chimney? Yes, and I see them too.'
The legs of the lowermost savage were now on
the hearth. An instant longer, and he would have
been in the apartment. Rushing through the open
door, Pinchon seized him by the ancles, and held
him fast. `Quick, quick, Le Duc, bring me the
straw bed,' said he. The order was obeyed.
Stuffing the straw into the fireplace, he applied a
lighted brand. The flames ascended, and the
Indians in the chimney howled in torment. Their
cries soon ended. Stifled with smoke and flame,
and unable to extricate themselves, their blackened
bodies dropped upon the hearth, whence
they were drawn one by one by Pinchon, and
stabbed by Le Duc. Those above, when they
saw the smoke ascend, uttered appalling cries, but
did not, nevertheless, descend from the roof.
They now determined to unroof the house, and
jumping down all at once, put an end to their
hated enemies. Seldom do Indians persevere in
this manner. On the present occasion their passions
were too much excited to allow of cool reflection.
Two of the slabs which composed the
roof were easily torn off, and thrown to the
ground. As the foremost of the Dahcotahs approached,
and bent over the opening to reconnoitre
the pays bas, he received the barbed points
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of a fish spear under his chin, and was jerked
down and despatched. The thing was so quickly
done, that his companions, not seeing by what
means he had disappeared, supposed he had found
the way clear, and sprang in. Another advancing,
was likewise speared, to the further edification
of the survivors. Reduced in number to five,
the party lost heart, sprung from the roof, and
made off, saying that the Frenchmen were medicine
men, against whom it would be useless to
contend.
When they were out of sight, Pinchon took his
bullet pouch and powder horn, and throwing his
gun over his shoulder, started in pursuit. Le Duc
followed his example, saying that he was now
convinced the devil took care of his own, and he
was ready to follow his bourgeois anywhere.
They followed the backward track of the Dahcotahs
at a dog trot, till night. They were both
slightly wounded, and their wounds began to
stiffen, but this did not abate their ardor. By
good luck, the moon shone bright, so that they
traced the retreating savages with ease. A little
after midnight, they saw that the trail trended to a
little coppice in the prairie. Here, if any of the
savages were awake, it was dangerous to come:
nevertheless, they reached it without being discovered.
They found the Sioux asleep, unsuspicious of
pursuit, with their guns piled against a tree.
Stealing upon them with noiseless pace, they took
away their arms, and placed them out of reach.
Then returning, they put the muzzles of their own
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pieces to the sides of two of the sleepers. Pinchon
gave the signal, and at the word, two more
were added to the number of their victims. The
others jumped to their feet, and seeing their arms
gone, gave one shrill yell of despair, and fled into
the prairie. Two of them were speedily overtaken
and slain by their inveterate pursuers. The
last of the Dahcotahs was not so easily disposed
of. He had not been wounded, and refreshed by
the sleep he had taken, he held them a long chase,
though had either of them been fresh, he would
not have run far. Le Duc gave up the pursuit,
but Pinchon continued to follow, as the hound
follows the hurt deer. The savage held on his
way untired, till day, when looking round, he saw
his hunter within twenty yards of him. Finding
escape impossible, he turned and faced him.
The contest was brief. The white man received
a deep wound, but the scalp of the Dahcotah
was added to those he had already taken.
When these unrelenting ruffians reached their
house, they found their men returned, with a great
number of Indians. Great was the applause they
received, and great was the joy of the Chippeways,
that not one of the Natooessies had returned
home to tell the tale. They filled the store of
Pinchon with furs to the roof, before spring.
He returned to Michilimacinac, and found a
welcome his deeds had not deserved. He was
again trusted with an outfit, and returned to winter
with the very band he had so deeply injured,
having good care to take no one with him who
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might betray him, excepting Le Duc, who was as
much implicated as himself.
One more of his exploits, for its almost incredible
temerity, we shall relate, and then make an
end of our story. When his boat arrived at the
portage of the Wisconsin, on his return to the
Sioux country, it was necessary to dry a part of
the cargo, which had been wet by a shower, the
night preceding. The canvass mentioned in a
former sketch, as used to cover Macinac boats,
was spread upon the ground to dry. While he
and his men were engaged in eating, an enormous
rattle-snake crept out of the grass, and stretched
himself in the sun upon the canvass; thinking, it
is probable, that it was placed there for his reception.
It is well known that this reptile is a generous
enemy, never doing any injury unless molested,
nor then, without giving warning. When
Pinchon and his comrade returned, they perceived
the individual in question.
Le Duc seized a stick to kill it, but Pinchon
held his arm, while the serpent regarded them
with the utmost indifference. `Joe Le Duc,' said
Pinchon, `we are called brave men. Should you
like to try which is the best entitled to the name,
of the two?'
`And how should that be tried? You do not
wish to fight with me, I hope? I have no inclination
of that kind myself: I would far rather
drink with you.'
`Nay, it can be tried without fighting. Dare you;
will you catch that snake in your bare hands?'
`Despardieux! no! I will fight the Indians
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with you, as long and as often as you please, but I
will not fight such an enemy as that.'
`Well, then, it shall never be said that I feared
man or beast. If you will not catch him, I will.'
Disregarding all remonstrance, the desperado
laid himself down within a few feet of the reptile.
He moved his hand towards him as slowly as the
hand of a clock, while the snake raised his head,
and looked him steadily in the eye, without offering
to strike. When he had advanced his fingers
within six inches of the serpent, he snatched it up
by the neck, as quick as thought, and sprung upon
his feet, holding it out at arm's length! The reptile,
after a few revolutions of its tail, fixed it firmly
round the man's neck, and began to contract its
body. Though one of the strongest of men, he
felt his arm bend, in spite of all the force of his
muscles. Still his iron nerves remained firm. He
grasped his right wrist with his left hand, and resisted
with all his might; but the snake was too
strong for him; when, at last, he saw its white
fangs within six inches of his face, his courage
gave way, and he cried to Le Duc to come with
his knife. The snake was severed in two, and
Pinchon cast the part he held from him. The
animal had attained the full growth of its species,
and had thirtytwo rattles. (6)
After this exploit, which was witnessed and admired
by fifty Winnebagoes, he gained his wintering
ground among the Sioux. His thirst of
blood being insatiable, he went to war with them
against his quondam friends, the Chippeways.
Such was the tenor of his life, sometimes
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warring upon one tribe, and sometimes upon another.
Many and wonderful were his adventures, those
we have related being but specimens. As a friend
to morality, we should perhaps expatiate upon the
misapplication of his great natural gifts, and trace
his enormities to the neglect to inculcate sound
principles in his mind in early youth. Yet, as no
one reads such lucubrations, and more especially,
as such subjects have been worn thread bare by
novelists and romance writers, we shall leave our
readers to draw such conclusions as seem good
to them.
The parents of this brutal desperado never had
the unhappiness to behold him again. He fell by
the hand of his trusty comrade, Joe Le Duc, at
the age of thirtythree. He had been supplanted
by this man in the affections of a squaw, and in
his cups fastened a quarrel on him. Le Duc
would have eschewed the contest which followed,
but the ire of Pinchon was not to be appeased.
Two northwest guns, and twenty yards of prairie
ground decided the matter. Joseph Le Duc stood
the fire of his principal without injury, for intoxication
had rendered Pinchon's hand unsteady.
Knowing that his opponent never forgave, he discharged
his piece with better aim, and Pinchon,
shot through the heart, bounded six feet into the
air, and fell to the earth a corpse.
What became of Le Duc is not known. The
posterity of Pinchon still flourishes among the
Dahcotahs, and have lost all traces of European
blood. The fifth in descent from our hero signed
a treaty with the late General Pike at St Peters
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in the year eighteen hundred. His son is the
petty chief of the Owaw Hoskah, or Long Avenue
village. There he passes the summer with
his band, and may be seen weekly and daily, visiting
the agency to ask for `some of his father's
milk;' a harmless, worthless, drunken vagabond.
Yet he has a fund of humor that frequently amuses
the officers of the garrison, and procures him
a bottle of whiskey. Some anecdotes of him will
not, we hope, be considered out of place here.
One day, visiting Fort Snelling with his face
blackened, the commanding officer asked him the
reason why he had smeared himself in that manner.
`It is because my brother is dead,' was the
reply.
`Why, then, do you not act as we do? When
we lose a relative, we array ourselves in good
black broadcloth.'
`Father, every nation has its customs. You
are rich, and we are poor. Therefore, we show
our grief by smearing our faces with soot, and you
attire yourselves in black cloth. But as you do
not approve of my following the customs of our
ancestors, to please you I am willing to compromise.
Give me a black dress for this occasion,
and in return I will give you as much soot as shall
serve for the purposes of mourning all the days of
your life.'
At another time, coming to ask a present preparatory
to going to Rum River with his band,
the white chief asked him how that stream had
acquired such an appellation. `Is it because rum
runs there, instead of water?'
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`No, father,' replied the Dahcotah, `it does
not. If it did, I would live on its banks till I had
drank it dry. You would never see me here
again.'
Colonel Snelling once proposed to this chief
and his people, in council, to give them potatoes,
seed corn, a plough, &c, and to send men to their
village to teach them how to use the implements
of husbandry, and to raise cattle and swine. `You
see,' said the officer, `that the chase is an uncertain
support, and that you are often obliged to ask
us for food, to keep you from starving. Work,
then, as we do, and you will be above the necessity
of begging.'
Pinchon said nothing till he had filled his pipe,
and exhausted its contents. Then, deliberately
knocking out the ashes, he replied:
`Father, I have been reflecting on your proposal,
as its importance deserves. What you say is
true. You speak with but one tongue. It is certain
that we are often without anything to eat. But
it strikes me, that we have no need to labor to procure
corn, or squashes, or potatoes, or cattle, or
pigs, while we have so good a father, who gives
us all these things, without any trouble on our part.'
-- --
THE LOVER'S LEAP.
Then welcome be my death song, and my death!
Gertrude of Wyoming.
[figure description] Page 263.[end figure description]
There are some poets who esteem women
slightly, asserting that the sex is fickle, false, and
inconstant; and others there are, who will have
it, that devotion, fidelity, and disinterestedness,
are only to be found in the breast of woman.
Far be it from us to decide on a subject so abstruse,
when so many doctors disagree; yet we
trust we shall be excused for placing a story in
our pages which would tend to make the balance
incline in favor of the fair.
Once upon a time, as story books say, there
lived a woman, or, to be perfectly correct, two
women, who bore to each other the relation of
mother and daughter. Tradition has not preserved
the name of either; and that of the mother
would be remembered only to be contemned, so
that it is the less matter. But it is a pity that the
appellation of a being so heroic as the daughter
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should be forgotten. All the Dahcotahs can say
on the subject is, that she was Weenoona, or the
oldest girl of the family.(1) By this title, then,
we shall designate her. Weenoona, in the opinion
of the young hunters, was the prettiest
maiden in the tribe; but the women, and more
especially the girls, who ought to be the best
judges in such matters, were of a quite contrary
opinion. If we were telling this to one of those
philosophers who believe with Jean Jacques, that
envy and jealousy are strangers to savage life,
it would probably startle him; but those who are
better judges of human nature, will not be astonished
when we say, that these vices, as well as all
uncharitableness, are as often found in a lodge as
in a palace. To return, however, to our heroine:
she was tall and slender, and was accounted
the best garnisher of moccasins in the village.
Not less remarkable was her nicety with regard
to her person, for she made it a point to wash
every day, whereas her companions do not perform
more than two or three ablutions per annum.
Her features were the faithful index of her disposition,
which was mild and yielding. She was
never known to requite insult with insult, nor reproach
with reproach; and when beaten by her
mother, no unfrequent occurrence, she would retire
to the woods and weep. Such as she was,
scarcely a young man in the village took to himself
a wife, without first offering himself as a
candidate for her favor, and being in consequence
rejected. The other maidens pointed at her, and
advised the men never to take a wife like her.
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`She is no hand at chopping wood,' said one.
`She cannot carry half so big a load as myself,'
said another. `She cannot hoe in the cornfield
when the sun shines,' cried a third. `What kind
of creatures would the children of such a puny
thing be?' demanded a fourth.
But notwithstanding all this, she was loved by
many, as far as savages are capable of loving.
Scarcely a night passed, that some young man
did not enter her father's lodge, and hold a lighted
match before her eyes. But it was invariably allowed
to burn, a sign that the suitor might prefer
his vows elsewhere. The advice and exhortations
of her parents passed unheeded, and she bloomed
in single blessedness till her eighteenth year, a
circumstance not common among the Dahcotahs.
The fact was, her heart was no longer her own
to bestow. She had placed her affections on a
young savage, the best hunter and the most daring
warrior in the band. Who danced so well as
Chakhopee Dootah?[9] Who killed half so many
deer? Who gave so many beaver skins to the
trader? and who, at his age, had struck so often
on the dead bodies of his enemies? But these
accomplishments were lost on the parents of Weenoona.
His father had accidentally killed the
brother of her father. The misfortune was universally
attributed to accident, and the wrath of
the injured family had been appeased by gifts;
the perpetrator of the mischief had long been dead,
but enduring hatred still rankled in the heart of
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the father of Weenoona. The proposals of Chakhopee
Dootah were rejected with scorn, his gifts
were refused, and the poor girl was forbidden to
have anything to say to him. If, therefore, she
sometimes staid longer in the woods than was necessary
to collect her bundle of dried sticks, and
if she had in consequence to sustain the reproaches
and the blows of her mother, it must by no means
be inferred that she merited such treatment by
disobedience.
The young man, on his part, did all that he
could to extinguish the resentment of the father
of Weenoona, and to gain his approbation. He
was the foremost in every war party, and untiring
in the chase. But it availed him nought. The
old man told him in plain terms that he intended
his child for the wife of a trader. If she could
be married to a white man, she would be exempt
from labor, and have plenty of blankets, and other
worldly goods, to bestow on her aged parents.
Chakhopee Dootah was a good hunter; but no
hunter could command the wealth of the men
with hats. To all his logic the old savage was
deaf, and returned the same answer to all his
proffers.
In an evil hour for the lovers, Raymond, a
French trader from Montreal, erected his log
house at a short distance from the village. The
charms of Weenoona caught his eye, and he offered
a great price for her. The proffer was
very acceptable to her father, but she heard the
proposition with fear and trembling. When he
came into the lodge, she fled to the woods to
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avoid his hateful presence, or if compelled by
her mother to remain, she turned his attempts at
wooing in her own tongue, into ridicule, and
would only accept his gifts at the express command
of her parents. He was not discouraged,
for he knew that very few of the Indian maidens
disposed of themselves, and though force is little
known in the treatment of their children among
the Dahcotahs, he thought, and very justly, that
perseverance might bring his wishes to pass.
The life of Weenoona soon became a burthen to
her. All her attempts to please were met with
reproach. If she brought wood to her father's
lodge, he upbraided her with her inferiority in
strength to others of her sex and condition, and
told her she was unfit to be the partner of a hunter
and warrior. `When he kills a deer,' said he,
`you could not go forth and bring it home on
your back, and if he wanted a field of corn, or a
canoe, you could not hoe and plant the one, nor
cut down a great black walnut, to make the other.
No, you are only fit to lead the lazy life of
a white woman, and to have a white dog to do
your bidding, and supply your wants. You will
do very well to take the Frenchman. He is rich,
and you will never need anything, and if you
manage right, neither will your old father and
mother.' One day, after a lecture of this kind,
she had escaped from the presence of her incensed
father, and repaired to the banks of a small stream
in the vicinity, there to vent her grief in tears and
lamentations. She had been there but few moments,
when Chakhopee Dootah appeared
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descending the opposite bank, bearing the carcass of
a deer that he had just killed. At the sight of
him her cries ceased, and her countenance brightened.
Coming up, he threw down his load and
sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree beside her.
`What ails you?' he asked.
`My father is always angry, and scolding at me.
I have a great mind to hang myself on one of
these branches, or to throw myself into the water.'
`And what does he scold you for? What
have you done to make him angry?'
`I have done nothing to anger him. Last
night the Frenchman came into our lodge with a
new gun, and my father wanted it. He had no
furs to buy it, and the trader would not give it to
him on credit; but he said he should have it,
and many things beside, if I would consent to live
with him. I laughed at his speech, and told him
that I hated him. My father scolded, and my
mother beat me, and I have had no peace since.
Other mothers take the part of their children, but
mine sets my father on to ill treat me. O, I wish
I were dead! I wish I were dead!'
`Do not think of hanging yourself. Remember,
that to reach the other world you will have
to swim across a rapid river, and drag the tree
after you by the neck. Live rather for me. I
can maintain you as well, or better, than any
white man, and your father will be reconciled to
the match when he finds he cannot help it. Fly
with me to-night to the Ioways, and we will remain
with them till the storm blows over.'
`No, I cannot leave my parents. Though
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they use me harshly, they love me; and they
have no child but myself. Be not afraid, they
will not use force, and I will suffer everything
sooner than marry the trader. I wish he would
remain at home among his own nation. I hate
his ugly, pale face.'
`I will watch his lodge, and the first time I
catch him alone, I will send a chewed bullet
through his heart.(2) He shall not stand in my
way much longer.'
`Do not do so, he is not to blame. They tell
me, and he tells me, that I am like a French woman;
and that is probably the reason he seeks
me. It is not his fault. If my father had not
encouraged him, he would have given me up,
long ago. If you kill him, you will bring misfortune
on the whole tribe. The whites will stop
the trade, and our people will not be able to get
guns or ammunition till you are given up to punishment.
They will slay you, for there is no
buying yourself off with gifts, as there is among
us. And then I shall lose you forever.'
`I care not. I am a man, and do not fear
death. It will be your father, and not I, that
will bring this misfortune on our people. Nay, it
shall not happen at all. I will go this moment
and stab him, behind his own counter, and then
go strait to Prairie du Chien, and surrender myself.
Do not think to dissuade me. I will do
as I have said, unless you consent to elope with
me.'
`Then hear me, Chakhopee Dootah; I will
do as you would have me,' said she, perhaps not
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displeased to be thus urged. `Sooner than such
things shall happen, I will do anything you wish.
But will you not hereafter reproach me with having
yielded too easily? Will you not be sorry
that you have taken so feeble a creature to your
lodge?'
`When I do, may I die in a snowdrift, and
may the wolves feast upon my carcass. Meet
me then, here, to-night, when the moon rises. I
will have my two horses ready, and you shall
ride the best. I care not if it be spoiled. I can
steal another from the Saques, but I cannot get
another Weenoona.'
`You can get many better, if you will. But
I will not fail you;' and with these words the
simple lovers parted.
Unfortunately for the success of the assignation,
it was seen and overheard. A girl who had
long sighed in secret, and made advances in public,
to Chakhopee Dootah, had heard the lamentations
of Weenoona, as she was seeking a load
of wood. She advanced towards the sound, and
came in sight of the afflicted maiden, just as her
lover made his appearance. She approached
them under the bank, and while their attention
was absorbed in each other, heard every word
that passed. Forthwith she repaired to the village,
and made the parents of Weenoona acquainted
with the whole plan, recommending to
them to watch her closely and to give her a sound
castigation into the bargain. Bitter were the reproaches
the poor girl was compelled to endure
on her return, and hard and heavy were the blows
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her mother inflicted on her, with the blade of a
paddle. At night she was tied to one of the poles
of the lodge, and had the additional misery of reflecting
that Chakhopee Dootah would look upon
her as faithless to her word.
The next day she had the mortification to see
him flirting with other girls, before her eyes, and
looking at her with an expression that signified,
`There are as fat does yet running wild, as ever
were taken.' Nor could she get an opportunity
to undeceive him, for her mother was as watchful
as Argus, and did not even suffer her to go for
wood or water alone. Raymond, too, who had
heard of her adventure, tormented her with his
addresses, and upbraided her in bitter terms.
But she found means, through the medium of a
married woman, one of her particular friends, to
explain her conduct to him. He again vowed,
that he would abstain from war and the chase, till
he found an opportunity to carry her off.
He was not able to keep his word. Old Tahtunker,
(the Buffalo) the aged war chief, dreamed
a dream. He thought that he was on the head
waters of the Buffalo river, and there saw an encampment
of twelve Chippeway lodges. Anon it
was attacked by a band of Sioux, headed by
Chakhopee Dootah. The Chippeways, at the
first alarm, dug holes in the ground, within their
lodges, and defended themselves desperately.
But Chakhopee Dootah, throwing down his gun
and tomahawk, rushed upon the camp, and in
spite of a shower of balls, succeeded in setting
fire to it. The enemy, thus forced from their
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cover, were cut off, men, women, and children.
The hero of this battle appeared to be wounded
in the shoulder. In the morning the old warrior
assembled the young men at a solemn feast, and
communicated his vision to his admiring auditors.
It was unanimously admitted that the war post
should be erected, and that it was the will of the
Master of Life that Chakhopee Dootah should
take the lead. Such a call was imperative, and
he departed accordingly, with all the customary
formalities.
Weenoona now obtained more liberty than before,
and her father went to the chase without
fear of losing his child. A misfortune full as serious
in his estimation, was, however, to befall
him. He encountered a she bear, fired, and
wounded her. Before he had time to reload his
gun, she overtook him. Defending his face with
his left arm, he drew his knife, and despatched
her with repeated stabs. Yet such was the animal's
tenacity of life, that notwithstanding the
mortal wounds she received, she scratched him
sorely, and lacerated his arm, breaking it in three
places before she fell. He returned to the village,
and went under the hands of a juggler and
physician, these two professions being commonly
united in one person among the Indians.
Now it was, that he regretted that he had no
son. The meat killed by the others was indeed
as free to him as to them, but he could not follow
them in their hunts, and he felt the miseries of
dependence, though not in the same manner and
degree a white man would.
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The band now moved to Lake Pepin, for the
purpose of taking fish. The family of Weenoona
accompanied it. They encamped with the rest,
at the foot of a high precipice. The condition of
our heroine was miserable indeed. She saw the
suffering condition of her father, whose arm, set
rudely by the Indian surgeon, kept him in continual
agony, and heard his incessant and peevish
complaints. Her mother told her that she was a
bad child to see her parents poor and miserable,
when one word from her lips would put them in
possession of everything they needed. One more
trial was necessary to drive her to despair, and
that was not long in coming.
Raymond had not, as was the usual course, gone
in the spring to Michilimacinac for a new supply
of goods. He had instead, despatched three
of his men with his boat, and remained himself to
plant corn, with the three others. At this time he
began to feel lonesome, and resolved to make
a last effort to gain possession of Weenoona, and
failing of success, to take another to wife. He
was a gross, ignorant sensualist, and attributed the
repugnance of the mistress of his affections to maiden
coyness. As to her attachment to Chakhopee
Dootah, he thought of it as a girlish folly,
that he would soon overcome. He was not, however,
of a bad disposition, and if he could have
foreseen the fatal consequence of his pursuit, he
would have given it over. He loaded a large canoe
with merchandize, and embarking with one
of his men, arrived at the encampment. The old
savage and his wife came out of the lodge to gaze
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[figure description] Page 274.[end figure description]
upon the goods as the canoe was unladen. `All
this will I give you,' said Raymond, `if I may
have your daughter to wife.' At the same time
he threw an English three point blanket over the
old man's shoulders, and another of the same
quality, though less in dimensions, upon his wife.
`She shall be yours,' said the old savage.
`She is my own child, and I will dispose of her
as I please! Tomorrow you shall have her.'
With these words he re-entered his lodge, and
summoned his daughter before him. He told
her that longer delay was useless; that she must
make up her mind to be the wife of Raymond;
that her lover was a bad man, and was moreover
gone to war, from whence he would probably never
return. And that on the next night she
should be carried to the Frenchman's tent, whether
she liked it or not.
Weenoona laid down and spent the remainder
of the day in weeping. Her heart was broken;
but her grief was disregarded. The next day,
the wedding feast of fish, fresh and dried, was
prepared. A dance began, attended with no
small uproar. The trader took his seat upon the
buffalo robe spread for him, the repast was served
up in wooden bowls, and Weenoona was called
upon to appear. She was absent, and the girls
present left the lodge to look for her. Suddenly
a thrilling shriek stilled the confusion of tongues
within, and all hurried out to ascertain its cause.
`Where is she?' demanded Raymond. `There,
there,' answered the women, pointing to the steep
hill. All voices were hushed, in an instant, for it
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was evident from her tones that she was singing
her death song. Raymond and some of the Indians
ran to overtake her and arrest her purpose.
The Frenchman was the foremost, and gained
fast upon her, but in vain; she was near the top.
The words of her song have been preserved, and
were lately translated into English verse by a
gentleman engaged in the trade. The version is
furnished with rhymes, which was not the case in
the original, and has undergone some other alterations,
it being impossible to make anything like
a literal translation.'
It was in the following terms:—
Still sleeps the breeze, bright beams the sun;
The grass grows green, the voices rise
Of wild birds in the woodlands dun:
The glories of the cloudless skies
Gleam full on lake and shore.
But on my ear the songster's strain
And summer's breezes fall in vain:
That light, those woods, the hill, the plain,
I look upon no more.
Few days are mine; my race is run,
'Tis ended, ere 'twas well begun.
At that steep cliff ascending high,
Dark beetling o'er the rocks below,
The only refuge greets my eye
That woes like mine can ever know;
Then now be firm, my heart.
What though a gloomy fate attends
Who the Great Spirit's law offends,
To other worlds, self-doom'd, who wends;
Yet will I hence depart.
The sorrows that I there must find,
Are less than those I leave behind.
Ay, spread the couch, and wake the song,
The bridal feast prepare.
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Look well those joyous maids among;
Your victim is not there.
But turn your eyes on high;
Your tears prepare; the song of death
Prepare; I go to yield my breath.
Upon the rugged rocks beneath,
My mangled form shall lie;
Come, cruel parents, come and see
The victim of your cruelty.
But thou wilt dearly rue my fate,
To whom my virgin heart I gave;
Perhaps wilt join thy martyr'd mate
In other lands beyond the grave;
There link thy lot with mine.
Thou wast my love, my chosen one,
My star, my light, my noonday sun.
No more for me its course must run,
No more its beams must shine,
Alas, on my devoted head:
To life it cannot warm the dead.
And thou, that sought an Indian maid,
Who trembled at thy nod;
Why were thy vows not rather paid
To Gain, the white man's God?
Why did'st thou sue to me?
Seek, far away, another love,
Whom honey'd words, whom gifts may move;
For now, my firm resolve must prove,
Death I prefer to thee.
Look, how the courage of despair
Can prompt the forest girl to dare.
She uttered these last words on the brink of
the cliff, and as Raymond, who was now close
upon her, stretched out his hand to seize her, she
sprung off. He stood for a few moments, rooted
to the ground, his hair bristling, and his eyes starting
from their sockets with horror. Recovering,
after a few moments, from his trance, he hurried
down the hill to where the savages were raising
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the death yell over the body of Weenoona. It
was literally mashed. The very form of humanity
was gone.
As soon as the funeral was over, Raymond embarked,
with his followers, in his canoe, leaving
the goods he had brought with the afflicted parents
of his bride. Fearing the vengeance of Chakhopee
Dootah, as soon as he reached his trading
house, he loaded his boat and pushed off. The
current carried him down the river, and what became
of him afterwards, we cannot say. He was
never after seen in the country.
A fever, the consequence of his wound, and the
violence of his grief for the loss of his child, carried
off the father of Weenoona. Her mother cut
her limbs so severely, to show her sorrow for her
husband and daughter, that mortification took
place, and the weather being hot, she only survived
three weeks. There was an end of the
family.
The common opinion of the Dahcotahs, was,
that the poor girl would be obliged, in the other
world, to carry about with her a burthen of the
very stones on which she dashed herself to pieces,
as a punishment. As for Chakhopee Dootah, he
did not lay violent hands on himself. At first, he
thrust splinters through his arms, and assumed the
usual signs of mourning; but within the year he
had two wives, and was as great a beau as ever.
It is rather singular, that in the expedition before
mentioned, of which he was the leader, he fulfilled
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all the circumstances of the old chief's dream.
The descendants of the forgetful lover are now
many.
Gentle Reader, — Our self-imposed task is
completed. Having treated of some `things unattempted
yet in prose or rhyme,' we do not throw
by our quill because we have no more materials
on which to enlarge. No, thanks to the observations
of a wandering and unquiet life, we do not
lack argument whereon to employ our pen. But
the labor of writing is irksome to us, and it is with
heartfelt satisfaction that we approach that thrice
blessed word, FINIS. Whether thou and we shall
ever meet again, is more than doubtful. If not,
we bid thee a sorrowful farewell.
Whether we have performed the duties we prescribed
to ourselves in the preface with credit or
not, is for thee, courteous reader, to say. Of the
matter of which our maiden essay is constructed,
it is ten to one thou knowest nothing; and if so,
thou art no competent critic. But for our manner,
we ask thy indulgence and favorable construction.
If the crimes in prose and verse that
we have perpetrated are many and great, consider
that the forest has been our Alma Mater. Once
more, we bid thee farewell.
eaf381.n9[9] The red war club.
Back matter
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NOTES.
[figure description] Page 279.[end figure description]
(1) Engages, voyageurs, and coureurs des bois,
are the appellations by which the subordinates employed in
the fur trade are distinguished. The experienced voyageurs
are called hivernans, and the raw hands mangeurs de lard,
or pork eaters.
(2) Nippes are pieces of blankets, or other substitutes for
stockings.
(3) I will put on a blue leggin and run after
her. When a young Indian of any of the branches of the
Dahcotah tribe wishes to declare himself in love, he wears
leggins of different colors. Thus accoutred, he sits upon a
log, and plays on a flute, or sings. It may be inferred from
the text, that the leggins of Washtay Wawkeeah were red.
(4) Courir l'allumette. The fashion of wooing among
many tribes is this. The lover goes at dead of night to the
lodge of his mistress, and lights a splinter of wood. This he
holds to her face, and awakens her. If she leaves it burning,
his addresses are not acceptable; but if she blows it out,
he takes his place beside her, and communicates his intentions.
The engages call this courir l'allumette.
(5) Dahcotah. Indians are jealous and uneasy when
their names are mentioned by white men in their presence.
To avoid giving offence in this manner, the Canadians engaged
in the trade have affixed a soubriquet to each tribe,
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and each prominent individual. Here follow some examples: —
The Dahcotahs are called Les Sioux; the Delawares,
Les Loups; the Chippeways, Les Saulteurs; the
Winnebagoes, Les Puans; the Pottawottemies, Les Poux,
&c, &c. By the use of these nick names, traders speak of
Indians in their presence, without making the subject of
their conversation known. Yet they cause confusion and
misapprehension in writing.
(6) Carried neck and heels. At Dahcotah weddings,
the bride is carried forcibly to her husband's lodge, all
the while resisting, and affecting the utmost reluctance.
(7) Suicide is regarded as the blackest of crimes by the
aborigines. Nevertheless, it is very common for squaws to
hang themselves, when thwarted in love, or maddened by ill
usage or jealousy. The men do not so often resort to selfdestruction.
(8) Bourgeois. An engage calls his employer, or principal,
his bourgeois.
(9) De Reinville is still living, and engaged in the
trace.
(10) The Ioways acted in self-defence. See the public
prints.
(1) All the labor of Indian camps devolves on the women.
They have the sole care of the children, horses, and dogs;
cut wood, pitch the tents, carry the baggage, and make the
clothing. Hunting is the only occupation of the men.
(2) To approach. Hunting the buffalo on foot is called
approaching. The hunter first creeps on all fours, and then
lies prostrate, pushing his gun before him, till near enough
to fire.
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(3) The Dahcotah race punish an adultress by cutting off
her nose, or scarring it; or by taking away a part of her
scalp.
(4) The tents or lodges of the Dahcotah race are made of
half dressed buffalo skins, and may therefore be cut to pieces.
It is common to destroy these dwellings, and to shoot horses
or dogs, to revenge an injury. This is a matter of course.
The party within always sit still while their tent is destroyed,
and retaliate in kind afterwards.
(5) Winktah. A winktah is a man who dresses in feminine
garb, and performs all female avocations. A winktah is
often married like a woman, and is held in the utmost contempt.
A Dahcotah may bear the terms of dog, coward, and
old woman, or receive a stab, without showing resentment;
but the name of Winktah he never forgives.
(6) Medicine Dance. The healing art is so blended
with magic in Indian minds, that one word expresses both.
Their medicines are exhibited with prayers and incantations,
and physic is, in their opinion, something supernatural. A
medicine dance, as mentioned in the text, is simply a religious
ceremony.
(7) Soldier's Lodge. In large Dahcotah camps, a lodge
called the soldier's lodge is set apart for councils, and the
reception of strangers. The women supply it with wood and
water, &c, but are not permitted to enter. The Soldiers are
a kind of police, appointed to maintain order, and enforce the
regulations.
(8) A mistake; it should be (8) Indians seldom refuse a
child anything. In cases where the avenger of blood is implacable,
a child is taught to plead for the guilty person.
(9) The Indians reckon it more honorable to strike on the
body of an enemy than to kill him. In Indian battles, a
warrior frequently falls at the flash of his opponent's gun, as
if dead; and when he comes to take the scalp, rises and kills
him. Therefore they say, that a coward may shoot a man
at a distance, but that it reqshes a brave man to touch him.
To strike on a fortified place, as in the text, is the same as
striking on an enemy. So far is this opinion carried, that
many accompany war parties without weapons, merely to
achieve this feat. The first, second, and third, who strike,
share the honor among them.
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(1) A tribute to the Great Spirit. Indians worship
at rocks, remarkable for their size or form. They leave
offerings to the supreme being upon them; usually tobacco,
or worn out clothing, but seldom anything of value. The
rocks themselves are addressed by the title of grandfather,
and with great respect.
(2) Master of Life, Master of Breath, and Great Spirit,
are the Indian titles of the supreme being.
(3) When the dog was devoured. Indians believe
that brutes have souls as well as men. They burn the bones
of dogs, bears, and some other animals, fearing that the spirits
of the deceased brutes will be angered by any disrespect or
insult that might be casually offered to their remains.
(4) I will throw away my body. Nothing is more
common among the Northwestern aborigines, than to imagine
themselves doomed to sorrow and dool. A run of bad luck
in hunting, or two or three successive failures, are sufficient
to produce this effect. On such occasions they perform
voluntary penance, which frequently extends to the loss of
life.
(5) The Dahcotahs sometimes bury their dead, but more
frequently expose them on scaffolds, or in the branches of
trees. In the latter case, it is said that the bones are afterwards
interred; we believe without truth, never having witnessed
it. The arms, &c, of a warrior, are buried or exposed
with him: formerly, a horse was sacrificed, that the deceased
might reach his future place of abode on horseback.
In old times, prisoners were put to death also, that the departed
might not want slaves in the next world. The Winnebagoes
have observed this rite within the remembrance of
many persons now living. When the corpse of a female is
disposed of, her implements of labor accompany it. The
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[figure description] Page 283.[end figure description]
men mourn for their dead relations by wounding their arms,
blackening their faces, &c. The women cut their limbs
with flints and knives. We have known mortification to
take place in consequence of the severity of these self-imposed
afflictions. In one instance we have seen death ensue.
The demonstration of grief is never so energetic as when stimulated
by the use of ardent spirits. The mourning is renewed
at every recurrence of intoxication, and they often
beg for whiskey `to make them cry.'
(1) Struck the post. Previous to the departure of a
war party, a post is set up, on which the warriors strike
alternately, and sing the deeds they have done, or mean to
do. It is often done too, in profound peace. The post is not
indispensable, and they often perform the ceremony without
taking the trouble to plant it, but it is nevertheless called
`striking the post.'
(2) He had lighted his match, &c. This is explained
in note (4) to The Captive.
(3) It is the duty of an Indian wife, when her husband
returns from the chase, to take off his moccasins and leggins;
to dry, and mend them if they require it.
(4) Usually, when an Indian kills a deer, or other animal,
he leaves it on the ground, and sends the women to bring it
home. He considers any labor beneath the dignity of his
sex.
(5) Which he had stolen, &c. Horse stealing is
considered honorable by all the prairie Indians. In their
lodges it is matter of pride and boast.
(6) The earthen utensil. Before the aborigines
became acquainted with the whites, they boiled their food in
pots of earthen ware. Such are still used by the more
remote Dahcotahs, and the tribes on the Upper Missouri.
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We have seen some, that evinced considerable taste and
skill in the makers.
(7) I wear ten feathers, &c. For every enemy
slain or struck in battle, the Dahcotahs wear a feather of the
war eagle. The full dress of a Siou is a history of his life;
every part expressing some action or relation.
(8) Kodah. This is a singular connection. An Indian
considers the blood relatives of his Kodah his own. Thus,
his father and brethren are in the same relation to his Kodah;
and so on to the remotest degree of consanguinity. Kodah
frequently exchange wives, temporarily or permanently, at
their option; and it excites no scandal.
(1) In the Indian trade, he who is entrusted with an outfit
is called a clerk, whether he can write or read, or not.
(2) Brigade of canoes. In the northwest a large
number of canoes is called a brigade.
(3) Lyed corn and grease. Lyed corn is maize,
boiled in strong lye to get the hulls off. A quart of lyed
corn and a gill of tallow, or grease of any kind, is the daily
ration of the engagés.
(4) I was at my fort. In the Indian country every
trading house is called a fort.
(5) I have hold on your heart. One of the few
figurative expressions the Indians use, meaning `I love you.'
(6) His face painted black. A black face signifies
grief, or an intention of revenge.
(7) Drew his blanket over his head. An Indian
considers it essential to his reputation to be at all times ready
to die. Endurance, in his opinion, is more honorable than
resistance.
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[Note Extra.] There being no accented capitals
in this Printing Office, the word brulé has been printed
throughout without the final acute é.
(1) Bois Brules, is the name given to the half-breeds,
in the Indian country.
(2) Pemican is thus made. The flesh of the deer or
buffalo is cut into very thin slices, and hung in the smoke of
a lodge till perfectly exsicated. It is then beaten to powder
in a wooden mortar, and mixed in equal parts with tallow, or
what is better, marrow-fat. It is a nutritious food, and when
well made will keep two years.
(3) Blackbirds abound all over the country west of the
Mississippi and north of the Missouri. Wherever grain is
sown they assemble in incredible numbers, and destroy it
in the milk.
(4) Allume. The voyageurs stop at the end of every
league to rest and smoke. A league is, in their diction, a
pipe. Their admeasurement commonly exceeds the truth,
by a third. We have read in the journal of a sapient English
traveller, that `a pipe' is the distance a man may walk
while a pipe is being smoked.
(5) Lamed by the weight of their snow shoes.
Every one who has travelled an hundred miles on snow
shoes will understand this.
(6) Such conduct as is attributed to La Verdure in the
text is not unfrequently seen in the Northwest. We could
bring proofs that our narrative is literally true, with the exception
only of names.
(7) The children of the very remote Indians are often as
much alarmed at the first sight of a white, as our infants
might be at seeing an Indian.
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(8) Dog sledges are the most approved and common vehicles
of draught and transportation, in the region of prairie.
Three dogs will draw the carcass of a buffalo.
(9) The enormities detailed in the text were actually
committed. If any person doubts, let him refer to Lord
Selkirk's book.
(10) This is fact.
(11) The Red River is very crooked. A man may, by
intersecting the points, walk farther in one hour than a boat
can go in three.
(12) Whiskey is the ultimate argument with all Indians
that have once tasted it. With ardent spirits they can be
bribed to commit any villany. It is thus that Indian traders
use it, to their moral destruction. The remote tribes get too
little to do them any physical harm.
(13) The buffaloes emigrated. No living can be
more precarious than that which depends on hunting the
buffalo. They are constantly migrating.
(14) To avoid being scented, &c. The scent of the
buffalo is very acute. He is not much alarmed at the sight
of a human being at a distance, but if a man gets to windward
of him he takes to flight immediately.
(15) The speed of a cabri. The animal called by the
voyaguers the cabri, is found only in the prairies. It is of the
goat kind, smaller than a deer, and so swift that neither horse
nor dog can overtake it.
(16) The Indian whose medal, &c. Indian agents
for the British and American governments confer silver
medals on the chiefs, which, as they cannot add much to
their importance, are little esteemed. The British medal
has on one side the arms of the United Kingdoms, and on
the other the head of his Majesty. The American medal
bears the effigy of the President for the time being, and a
pipe and tomahawk crossed.
(17) To prevent the iron head from coming off.
Arrow heads are barbed, and are fastened to their shafts with
sinews, and a kind of glue, which is apt to dissolve at a moderate
temperature.
(18) Anything lost in a Yankton camp, may be recovered
by hiring a soldier to cry the loss, as described in the text.
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Indian dogs are never fed, and therefore devour all the moccasins,
saddles, &c. they can get at.
(19) The lodge of the Grand Medicine. The
Grand Medicine of the Dahcotahs is an institution in some
respects like Free Masonry. Its rites are celebrated in
secret, and it has its signs and insignia by which its members
are known to each other. It differs from Free Masonry, in
that women are among the initiated.
If the reader should think, that the depravity exhibited
by some of the characters in the Bois Brule unnatural,
we assure him that the incidents are mainly true. The outline
is consistent with the history of the Northwest; the embellishments
and filling up, are our own.
(1) A rabid wolf. In the dog days, hydrophobia sometimes
occurs among the canine tenants of the prairies. In
such cases, the fox and wolf forget their natural timidity,
without losing their instinctive sagacity.
(2) Thou hast driven me to wish for the approach
of death, as for the coming winter. Winter
is the Indian season of enjoyment. It is in winter that
the aborigines hunt.
(1) See note (5) to The Devoted.
(2) After two sleeps. The Indians compute time and
distance (in travelling) by the number of times they sleep.
(3) Firing across a boat (with ball) is the Indian way of
bringing her to.
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(4) Set it on fire. The summer, or permanent villages
of the northwestern aborigines, are built of bark, and
may, therefore, be easily fired.
(1) Pipe, or league. See note (4) to the Bois Brulé.
(2) Two guns on each shoulder. Tradition says,
four.
(3) Natooessies signifies, in the Chippeway tongue, the
enemy. As the Dahcotahs and Chippeways have been at
war from time immemorial, the term is natural.
(4) The great medicine bag. Every Indian has his
medicine bag, which contains articles which he considers sacred.
The medicine bag in the text belonged to the institution
of the Grand Medicine.
(5) By right of having taken the first scalp.
Among the Chippeways, he (of a war party) who has been
the first to take a scalp, returns at the head of all, and has
the first honor.
(6) This anecdote is well authenticated, or we should have
hardly ventured to record it.
(1) The oldest child of a Dahcotah family is called, if a
boy, Cheskay, if a girl, Weenoona; the second, if a boy,
Haypon, if a girl, Habpahn, &c, as far as the fifth child. Besides
these names, which only serve to mark the family relation,
they have others.
(2) The Indians chew their bullets, to make them cut a
bigger hole. When one of them lodges in any animal, the
pain and irritation is much greater than that caused by a
smooth ball.
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Snelling, William Joseph, d. 1849 [1830], Tales of the northwest, or, Sketches of Indian life and character (Hilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, Boston) [word count] [eaf381].
