Chapter III: {i}18 (2)

{29} In the year 1815 the Ioways came to the mouth of the Platte river, and found there a trader engaged in trafficking with the Otoes. They attempted to take possession of his merchandize by force, but were opposed and repelled by the Otoes, who determined to protect their trader. The Ioways, however, threatened the trader to plunder him as soon as the Otoes should depart, whose provisions being now nearly exhausted, the fears of the trader for his safety became more excited, in proportion as the time of their departure approached. He despatched a boy with a letter to his partner, Mr. Lisa, then trading at Council Bluff, a distance of thirty miles, informing him of his situation, and of the fact, which had but then come to his knowledge, that the Ioways had formed a small party for the purpose of visiting Council Bluff, and committing some depredations there.

On the reception of this intelligence, Mr. Lisa sent a favourite Omawhaw, Wa-co-ra, to accompany the boy with his reply.

In the meantime the Ioway party had set out, and after travelling a considerable distance, the partizan became lame, and was left with a companion on the way.

Wacora, fortunately, did not meet the party, but he saw the partizan with his companion, calmly seated in fancied security, amongst the thick bushes. He crept silently near to them, who were distinctly recognized by the boy, and discharging his gun, broke the arm of the partizan's companion.

The partizan immediately perceiving the aggressor to be an Omawhaw, exclaimed, "I am a half Omawhaw; I was going to war against the Long-knives, not against the Omawhaws; shoot no more, you have wounded one of us." Wacora answered, "I am a Long-knife," upon which the wounded man made a charge with a lance, and had nearly transfixed the boy, when Wacora shot him; he {30} afterwards killed the partizan, and bore off their scalps. Finding now the trail of the party, which he readily ascertained by their tracks, to consist of nine persons, he determined to return immediately with his utmost speed, even at the risk of meeting with the party, in order to inform Mr. Lisa of their presence in his vicinity; this he accomplished at the imminent hazard of his life. Thus proving that the most unlimited confidence might be safely reposed in his faithful performance of his trusts.

Warriors often venture singly into the vicinity of an enemy's village, and even into the village itself, to capture horses or kill one of the nation. The Borgne, or One Eye, Ka-ko-a-kis, late grand chief of the Minnetarees, entered the village of an enemy at night, with his robe covering his head for concealment. He passed into several lodges, until at length he found one tenanted, at the moment, only by a young squaw; he drew his knife, compelled her to submit to his desires, then stabbed her to the heart, and bore off her scalp. He was a chief possessed of much power, but was almost universally disliked as a very bad man, and was at length killed by the Red-shield chief, E-tam-ina-geh-iss-sha.[24]

[24] On Le Borgne see Bradbury's _Travels_, in our volume v, note 98.—ED.

The warriors often meet together and narrate, emulously, their war exploits; two of them were one day thus engaged, one of whom, Wa-ke-da, or the Shooter, had killed more enemies than any other individual of his nation, although he had never _struck_ more than two or three bodies of the slain. They continued for some time to boast of their feats, when the father of Wakeda, an old man of seventy years, in order to terminate the altercation, leaped from his seat, and, after _striking_ upon several nations, concluded by the following witticism: "I approached the Pawnee-mahaws alone, for the purpose of stealing horses. I entered their village in the evening, succeeded in getting into one of their stalls, and was proceeding to take out the horses, when I was surrounded {31} and made prisoner. They flogged me, thrust a stick into my anus, and sent me off, with the stick depending like a tail." This, as was intended, terminated the boasting, and the parties joined in general good humour.

Their notions of the attributes of bravery differ in many respects from those which we entertain of them. It is, in their estimation, no proof either of valour or good sense, for a warrior to advance into the plain, stand still, and suffer his enemy to take deliberate aim, in order to shoot him down, when such a course of conduct can be avoided; but they say that when a warrior goes to battle, it is a duty, which is due to himself, to his nation, and to his friends, to avail himself of every possible advantage over his enemy, and even to kill him, if he can, without any risk of his own person. But a warrior must never yield in battle; he must contend until death, if he cannot escape from his enemy. And if entirely surrounded, he rushes amongst them, and endeavours to destroy or injure as many as possible, and in death he exhibits traits of passive courage, which form no part of the character of civilized men.

The succeeding narrative may serve, better than any general remarks, to convey an idea of the formalities attendant on a negociation for peace, amongst the Missouri Indians.

During the stay of our detached party at the Konza village, several chief men of the nation requested Mr. Dougherty to lead a pacific deputation from their nation, to their enemies the Otoes, Missouries, and Ioways, then dwelling in one village on the Platte. Circumstances then prevented the gratification of their wishes, but he gave them to understand, that if the deputation would meet our party near Council Bluff, he would probably then be authorized to bear them company; on which they determined to send a party thither. Accordingly, on {32} the day preceding the arrival of our steam-boat at the position chosen for our winter cantonment, a deputation from the Konzas arrived for that purpose. It consisted of six men, led by He-roch-che, or the Real War Eagle, one of the principal warriors of the Konza nation.

Mr. Dougherty having made their pacific mission known to Major O'Fallon, the latter expressed to them his cordial approbation of their intentions, and the following day he despatched Mr. Dougherty with them, to protect them by his presence, on their approach to the enemy, and to assist them by his mediation, in their negociations, should it be found necessary.

They had not proceeded far on the way, when one of the Indians inquired if the Sioux war parties were often in the neighbourhood. Mr. Dougherty informed them that they were; that they had killed an Oto some time since, and more recently, four Omawhaw squaws. This intelligence induced Herochshe to request the loan of Mr. Dougherty's gun; they all looked sharply about them, and requested their guide to take the lead.

The distance to the Oto village is about twenty-five miles; on the journey over the prairies, they espied an object at a distance, which was mistaken for a man, standing upon an eminence. The Indians immediately halted, when Herochshe addressed them, with the assurance that they must put their trust in the Master of life, and in their leader; and observed, that, having journeyed thus far on their business, they must not return until their purpose was accomplished; that if it was their lot to die, no event could save them; "We have set out my braves,"[25] said he, "to eat of the Otoes' victuals, and we must do so or die;" the party then proceeded {33} onward. The Indians are always very cautious when approaching an enemy's village, on any occasion, and this party well knew that their enterprize was full of danger.

[25] When on a war excursion, or a pacific mission, the Indians always address their companions in this manner: "My companion, my brave. My brother, my brave."—JAMES.

In a short time they were again brought to a halt, by the appearance of a considerable number of men and horses, that were advancing towards them. After some consultation and reconnoitring, they sat down upon the ground, and lighting the peace-pipe, or calumet, Herochshe directed the stem of it towards the objects of their suspicion, saying, "smoke friend or foe;" he then directed it towards the Oto village, towards the white people, towards heaven, and the earth, successively.

The strangers, however, proved to be drovers, with cattle for the troops, on their way to Council Bluff.

In consequence of being thus detained, it was late in the afternoon when the party arrived at the Platte river, and as they had still eight miles to travel, and it was indispensable to their safety that they should reach the village before dark, Mr. Dougherty urged his horse rapidly forwards. The Indians, who were all on foot, ran the whole distance, halting but twice, in order to cross the Elk Horn and Platte rivers, although one of them was upwards of sixty years of age, and three of the others were much advanced in years.

As they drew near the Oto village, they were discovered by some boys, who were collecting their horses together for the night, and who, in a telegraphic manner, communicated intelligence of their approach, to the people of the village, by throwing their robes into the air.

The party was soon surrounded by the inhabitants, who rushed towards them, riding and running with the greatest impetuosity. The greatest confusion reigned for some time, the Otoes shouting, hallooing, and screaming, whilst their Konza visitors lamented aloud. Shaumonekusse soon arrived, and restored a {34} degree of order, when, the business of the mission being made known in a few words, the Konzas were taken up behind some of the horsemen, and conveyed as rapidly as possible to the lodge of Shongotongo, lest personal violence should be offered them on the way. They did not, however, escape the audible maledictions of the squaws as they passed, but were stigmatized as wrinkled-faced old men, with hairy chins, &c., ugly faces, and flat noses.

After running this species of gauntlet, they were quietly seated in the lodge, where they were sure of protection. A squaw, however, whose husband had been recently killed by the Konzas, rushed into the lodge, with the intention of seeking vengeance by killing one of the ambassadors on the spot. She stood suddenly before Herochshe, and seemed a very demon of fury. She caught his eye, and at the instant, with all her strength, she aimed a blow at his breast with a large knife, which was firmly grasped in her right hand, and which she seemed confident of sheathing in his heart. At that truly hopeless moment, the countenance of the warrior remained unchanged, and even exhibited no emotion whatever; and when the knife approached its destination, with the swiftness of lightning, his eyes stood firm, nor were its lids seen to quiver; so far from recoiling, or raising his arm to avert the blow, that he even rather protruded his breast, to meet that death which seemed inevitable, and which was only averted by the sudden interposition of the arm of one of her nation, that received the weapon to its very bone.

Thus foiled in her attempt, the squaw was gently led out of the lodge, and no one offered her violence, or even harsh reproof. No further notice was taken of this transaction by either party.

Food was then, as usual, placed before the strangers, and soon after a warrior entered with a pipe, which he held whilst Herochshe smoked, saying in a loud voice, "you tell us that you wish for peace, I say, I {35} will give you a horse, let us see which will be the liar, you or I." The horse was presented to him.

The evening, and much of the night was passed in friendly conversation respecting the events of the five years' war which they had waged with each other.

On the following morning the Konzas were called to partake of the hospitality of different lodges, whilst the principal men of the village were assembled in council, to deliberate upon the subject of concluding a peace.

At noon the joint and grand council was held in the Crenier's lodge. The Otoes, Missouries, and Ioways took their seats around the apartment, with the Konzas in the centre. Herochshe, whose business it was first to speak, holding the bowl of the calumet in his hand, remained immovable for the space of three-fourths of an hour, when he arose, pointed the stem of the calumet towards each of the three nations successively, then towards heaven, and the earth, after which he stretched out his arm, with the palm of the hand towards the members of the council, moving round with his body so as to present the palm towards each of the members in succession. He then proceeded to shake each individual by the hand, after which he returned to his place, and renewed the motion of the hand as before.

Having performed all these introductory formalities, he stood firm and erect, though perfectly easy and unconstrained, and with a bold expression of countenance, loud voice, and emphatical gesticulation, he thus addressed the council.

"Fathers, brothers, chiefs, warriors, and brave men. You are all great men. I am a poor obscure individual. It has, however, become my duty to inform you, that the chiefs and warriors of my nation, sometime ago, held a council for the purpose of concerting measures, to terminate amicably, the cruel and unwelcome war, that has so long existed between us, and chose me, all insignificant as I am, to {36} bring to you this pipe which I hold in my hand. I have visited your village, that we might all smoke from the same pipe, and eat from the same bowl, with the same spoon, in token of our future union in friendship.

"On approaching your village, my friends and relatives, I thought I had not long to live. I expected that you would kill me, and these poor men who have followed me. But I received encouragement from the reflection, that if it should be my fate to die to-day, I would not have to die to-morrow, and I relied firmly upon the Master of life.

"Nor was this anticipation of death unwarranted by precedent. You may recollect that five winters ago, six warriors of my nation came to you, as I have now done, and that you killed them all, but one, who had the good fortune to escape. This circumstance was vivid in my memory when I yesterday viewed your village in the distance; said I, those warriors who preceded me in the attempt to accomplish this desirable object, although they were greater and more brave than I, yet were they killed by those whom they came to conciliate, and why shall not I share their fate; if so, my bones will bleach near theirs. If, on the contrary, I should escape death, I will visit the bones of my friends. The oldest of my followers here, was father-in-law to the chief of those slaughtered messengers; he is poor and infirm, and has followed me with difficulty; his relatives, also, are poor, and have been long lamenting the loss of the chief you killed. I hope you will have pity on him, and give him a pair of mockasins (meaning a horse) to return home with, for he cannot walk. Two or three others of my companions are also in want of mockasins for their journey homeward.

"My friends! we wish for peace, and we are tired of war; there is a large tract of country, intervening between us, from which, as it is so constantly {37} traversed by our respective hostile parties, we cannot either of us kill the game in security, to furnish our traders with peltries. I wish to see a large level road over that country, connecting our villages together, near which no one can conceal himself in order to kill passengers, and that our squaws may be enabled to visit from village to village in safety, and not be urged by fear, to cast off their packs, and betake themselves to the thickets, when they see any person on the route. Our nations have made peace frequently, but a peace has not hitherto been of long duration. I hope, however, that which we shall now establish will continue one day, two days, three days, four days, five days. My friends! what I have told you is true; I was not sent here to tell you lies. That is all I have to say."

Herochshe then lit his pipe, and presented the stem to the brother of the Crenier, Wa-sac-a-ru-ja, or He who eats raw, who had formerly been his intimate friend. The latter held the end of the stem in his hand, whilst he looked Herochshe full in the face, for a considerable space of time. At length he most emphatically asked, "Is all true that you have spoken." The other, striking himself repeatedly and forcibly upon the breast, answered with a loud voice, "Yes! It is all truth that I have spoken." Wasacaruja, without any further hesitation, accepted the proffered pipe, and smoked, whilst Herochshe courteously held the bowl of it in his hand; the latter warrior then held it in succession to each member of the council, who respectively took a whiff or two, after which the pipe itself was presented to Wasacaruja to retain.

It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the energy, and propriety, with which this speech was delivered, or of the dignity and self-possession of the speaker. Before he commenced, he hesitated and looked around upon his enemies, probably in order to trace in the lineaments of their countenances, the {38} expression of their feelings towards him. He then began his address, by raising his voice at once to its full intonation, producing a truly powerful effect upon the ear, by a contrast with the deep and long continued silence which preceded it. He was at no loss for subject or for words, but proceeded right onwards to the close of his speech, like a full-flowing, bold, and impetuous stream.

Wasacaruja, in consequence of having first accepted of the calumet, was now regarded as responsible for the sincerity of his friend Herochshe. He therefore arose, and thus addressed the ambassador. "My friend! I am glad to see you on such an occasion as the present, and to hear that your voice is for peace. But I can hardly believe that we can ever rest in a permanent peace. A few winters ago, when we were in friendship with each other, I visited your village, and you gave me all your people, saying, that all the Konzas were mine. But it was not long afterwards, as we hunted near your country, that you stole our horses and killed some of our people, and I cannot but believe that the same course will be again pursued. Nevertheless, I shall again repair to the same place, of which I have spoken, this autumn, for the purpose of hunting, and in the spring I will again visit your town. You observed that you were apprehensive of being killed as you approached our village; and you most probably would have been so, coming as you did, late in the evening, and without the usual formality of sending a messenger to apprize us of your approach, had you not been accompanied by the Big-knife with whom you are so well acquainted. But we have now smoked together, and I hope that the peace thus established, may long continue. You say that you are in want of mockasins, we will endeavour to give you one or two for your journey home. That is all I have to say."

Herochshe then apologized for his unceremonious {39} entrance into the village, by saying that he knew it to be customary, to send forward a runner on such an occasion, and he should have done so, but his friend, the Big-knife, whom he had previously consulted with that view, told him, that he had full confidence in the magnanimity of the Otoes.

Thus the ceremony was concluded, and peace restored between the two nations.

Numerous are the anecdotes already related by various authors, which go to show, that the desire of revenge for an injury or insult is remarkably permanent with the North American Indian. It would almost seem, that neither time nor circumstance can utterly eradicate it, and it is certain that it is not always extinguished with the life of the offended individual, but that it sometimes descends as an inheritance to his posterity.

A Puncaw warrior was killed in a quarrel, over the carcass of a bison, by a noted desperado of his own nation. The deceased left two sons, the elder of whom, in the course of a few years, became of sufficient age to hunt, and had the good fortune, in his first essay, to kill a fine bison. Whilst he was occupied in taking off the skin from his prey, he espied the murderer of his father approaching, who took his stand near the young hunter, and regarded him with a stern aspect. "Look up," said the intruder; the young man proceeded with his occupation. "I say, look at me;" reiterated the other, "do you know who I am? begone from this carcass, it is mine." The young hunter then raised his eyes to the countenance of him, whom he had long been taught to consider as his enemy, and fiercely retorted the dark malignant scowl which was concentrated there; then gathering his bow and arrows, he slowly retired a short distance, and turning, perceived that the warrior had already taken possession of his prize. "Yes," he exclaimed, bending his bow, "I do know you well; you are the murderer of my {40} father, and are the cause of my being an orphan." As he spoke, he discharged an arrow, which pierced the heart of his enemy, who fell dead; the victor, however, continued to feather his body with arrows, until his quiver was exhausted. He then returned to the village and related his story to the people, who rejoiced at the death of a common disturber of the peace, and no one was found who wished to revenge his death.

Vengeance is sometimes transferred from an immediate to a remote object. The Otoes being on one occasion encamped near Mr. Lisa's trading establishment, many of their number became intoxicated with whiskey, and troublesome to the traders. But in order that the latter might not receive personal injury, two warriors were appointed by the chiefs to stand guard at the door of the house, with orders to repel all drunken individuals. Having consumed all the whiskey that had been given them, they clamorously demanded more, but the trader persisted in refusing it to them. Incensed at this denial, the grand chief Shongatonga, who was himself slightly intoxicated, went into the house, and meeting one of the traders near the door, he gave him a slight push with his hand, unobserved by Hashea, the Cut-nose, who was then on guard. The act, however, was perceived by an Indian who reclined against an outhouse, at a little distance, smoking his pipe. He advanced, apparently with perfect indifference, and taking up a keg, the only weapon which presented, he approached Shongatonga, and discharged it with all his strength, full upon the head of that chief, who was knocked down senseless by the violence of the blow.

The Little Soldier, a brother-in-law of Shongatonga, who was present at this assault, immediately seized his tomahawk, and making a threat, rushed out of the house, his silver armbands and other ornaments, with which he is usually profusely decorated, {41} sounding as he passed; he halted for an instant at the door, in order to distinguish some object on which to wreak his vengeance; espying amongst the crowd of Otoes, one from whom he had received an injury fifteen years before, which deprived him of the sight of one eye, he pursued him, and with a blow of his tomahawk brought him to the ground; this unfortunate individual, like his victor, had also lost an eye, and in this rencontre the remaining one was destroyed.

Hashea, the guard, observing that the Indians were becoming very disorderly, drew his knife, declaring that he would kill the first individual of them he could meet with, and pursuing the canaille, they fled in every direction. During this interval an inferior Indian entered the store, and pointing with his finger near to the face of Mr. Lisa, said in a threatening tone, "You are the cause of all this disturbance;" the latter immediately kicked him out of the house; on which the Indian in a rage, declared he would revenge himself for an injury so gross. Seeking some object to destroy, he encountered a sow and pigs, and appeased his rage by putting them all to death. The Little Soldier now returned, and found that his relative had recovered. Order was at length restored by the mediation of Mr. Dougherty.

But instances are not rare, in which an Indian is unwilling to punish an injury inflicted on himself, even when retaliation is amply in his power. As the troops were ascending the river, as usual, by the aid of the cordelle, several Oto Indians were sitting on the river bank at the establishment of the Missouri fur company, quietly smoking their pipes, and apparently much interested in the movements before them. One of them was accosted by a soldier, who had left his cordelle for the purpose, with an offer to purchase the pipe he was then using; but the Indian would not part with it, saying, he had no other to bear him company in his hunting excursions. {42} The soldier requested permission to examine it, but as soon as the Indian put the pipe into his hands, he twisted the bowl from the handle and ran off with it. The Indian in company with one of the traders, immediately pursued the thief to his boat, and demanded the pipe; but obtaining no satisfaction, he came to Engineer Cantonment, and stated the circumstance to Major O'Fallon, who assured him that his influence should not be wanting to procure the pipe again, and to have the offender punished by a very severe whipping. The Indian, however, with more mercy than justice, replied, that he would extremely regret the infliction of any punishment whatever upon the soldier, and he desired it might not be done; all he wished for was the recovery of his property.

The Omawhaws consider themselves superior, in the scale of beings, to all other animals, and appear to regard them as having been formed for their benefit. They will sometimes say, when speaking of a bad person, "he is no better than a brute." It is true that a magician tells his auditors that "a grizzly bear whispered in my ear, and gave me this medicine:" but his meaning is that the Wahconda, in the shape of that animal, had communicated with him.

Neither do they seem to suppose that the inferior animals accompany them to the other world, though they expect to pursue their occupation of hunting there.

In their opinion, the Wahconda has been more profuse in his distribution of gifts to the white people, than to the red-skins; particularly in imparting to us the knowledge of letters, whereby the result of experience is so readily transmitted from one person to another, so as to seem like the operation of some great mystic medicine.

But they claim a superiority in natural intelligence, and readily perceive that they are more {43} active, have a greater capacity for undergoing, with fortitude, the many evils to which they are subject in every situation and season, such as exposure to great heat and cold, hunger, thirst, and pain. They appear to esteem themselves more brave, more generous and hospitable to strangers than the white people; and these beneficent virtues with them, like the mental operations of faith, hope, and charity of the Christians, mark the perfect man.

They regard the white people, as very deficient in one of these cardinal virtues. They have been told by Indians, who have visited our settlements, that on entering the lodge of a white man, they will be informed that he has eaten his dinner, he will not, at least, set any food before them, and if they remain in the house, nothing is offered them until night, and even then, probably, but a stinted portion. The meanness of such demeanour they despise.

If a white man, or any stranger, enters the habitation of an Indian, he is not asked if he has dined, or if he is hungry, but independently of the time of the day or night, the pot is put upon the fire, and if there is but a single pound of meat in the possession of the family, that pound is cooked and set before him, and even if he has but just arisen from a feast, he must taste of the food, or offence is given. History has recorded, with high commendation, the name of a dethroned Christian monarch, who shared his last loaf of bread with a suppliant stranger; and surely a similar act in the Indian, although it be influenced by education and custom, is entitled to respect and applause.

They look upon the traffic in the necessaries of life, such as meat and maize, amongst the individuals of a nation, as contemptible. Such commerce they consider as a very unfavourable trait in the character of the white man; they, however, avail themselves of it in their dealings with him, provided he wants a considerable supply of those necessaries.

{44} The food which is set before a guest, is, in every respect, considered as exclusively his own; he may give it to whom he may think proper, either within or without the lodge; he may even take it with him to his own lodgings, but the including vessel, must, in either case, be returned.

Much more food is usually served up to a guest than he can possibly eat, and when he has satisfied his hunger, if he return the remainder to the host, the latter thanks him for it, as if he had received a favour.

So exemplary is their hospitality, that every stranger, even an enemy, is protected in the habitation of an Omawhaw, as far as the power and influence of the owner extends; he is immediately invited to sit down, and no questions are put to him. The master of the house is evidently ill at ease, until the food is prepared for eating, he will request his squaws to expedite it, and will even stir the fire himself. When the guest has finished his meal, the pipe is handed to him to smoke, after which the conversation begins either vocally or by signs. As soon as it is known that a stranger is in the village, he is invited to various feasts, at each of which he must reciprocate the politeness of the host, by partaking of his fare; the stranger is not unfrequently followed from lodge to lodge by several persons, who wish to secure him as a guest in their turn.

In the kindest spirit of hospitality, they are always careful to treat their guests in the manner which they suppose will be most agreeable to them. A trader was invited to a feast, and the food being prepared, a squaw who was about to serve it up, in order to clean a bowl to contain it, began to scoop it with her curved finger. Her husband observing this usual mode of depuration, reprimanded her, saying, "I have told you that the white people do not like to see bowls cleaned in that manner, give me the vessel, and I will show you how they clean {45} them." He then drew out one corner of his breech-clout, and substituted it for a towel, wiped the bowl thoroughly, and returned it to the squaw. The trader, as in duty bound, tasted of the contents, but he would have preferred the agency of the finger of the squaw, to that of the old breech-clout of the husband.

An unknown stranger is led to the lodge of the principal chief, where the inhabitants collect to see him, and do not hesitate to gratify their curiosity, by looking steadfastly in his face. The stranger, if an Indian, appears perfectly at his ease, not seeming to notice the crowd that surrounds him, in order that he may not encounter their eyes. After he has eaten and smoked, he delivers his message, states his business, or tells the news. If he is seated in a small skin lodge, which contains but few persons, one of these will repeat his words aloud, that the crowd without may hear.

They are pleased with the society of the Canadian French, but they do not appear to respect them highly, because they permit too much familiarity, and are not forward in revenging an insult. The Spaniards, probably from the representations of the Pawnees, who war against them, are held in but little esteem. But it is readily perceivable, as well from their own deportment as from the representations of the French, that they respect the character of the Americans (citizens of the United States) above that of any other nation, because, they are pleased to say, we are the bravest of the white people. Previously to the late war between the United States and Great Britain, the British are said to have been deemed most valorous. But, say they, the Ioways have informed us, that, at the commencement of the war, the British promised to give the Indians who took part with them in the contest, all the territory that lies westward of a great river, (the Ohio,) over which they declared they would drive {46} the Americans. Their subsequent inability to comply with this promise, together with an indistinct idea of some of the conflicts, both by land and water, on our Canadian frontier, lead them to suppose that the Americans conquered in that war, and that they are now the most powerful of the nations of the earth.

Like the ancients the Indians have no rhymes in their poetry. They imitate the sounds of the voice of various animals, and of some, with so much success, as to deceive even such persons as are familiar with the animals thus imitated. This mimicry extends to the voices of the bear, bison, deer, wolves, prairie dog, turkey, owl, &c. together with those of some smaller birds, the notes of which are simple. But in these imitations we knew of no individual, whose art enabled him to execute so great a variety of notes, and with so much melody, as we have heard from civilized performers, who have publicly exhibited their talents in this way, in our cities.

An Indian at his temporary night encampment, hearing the unexpected cry of an owl, wolf, &c., is generally suspicious of its proceeding from a human enemy, who is thus endeavouring to lull him into fancied security; such sounds being often made by war parties, on their nocturnal approach to their victims, to induce a belief that the animals around them are undisturbed.

They also imitate the motions of different animals, playfully, sometimes grotesquely, in their dances.

{47} CHAPTER V {III}

Tribes and Bands—Fabulous Legends—Wit—Ninnegahe, or Mixed
Tobacco—Dances—Otoes—Migrations—Language.

THE Omawhaw nation is divided into two principal sections or tribes, which are distinguished by the names Honga-sha-no and Ish-ta-sun-da; the latter means Grey Eyes.

The first-mentioned tribe is subdivided into eight bands, viz.

1. _Wase-ish-ta._—This band is interdicted from eating the flesh of male deer or male elk, in consequence of having their great medicine, which is a large shell, enveloped in the prepared skin of those animals. The chief of this band is the Big Elk, Ongpatungah; and it is more powerful and numerous in individuals than either of the others.

The shell, which is regarded as an object of great sanctity and superstitious reverence, by the whole nation, has been transmitted from the ancestry of this band, and its origin is unknown. A skin lodge or temple is appropriated for its preservation, in which a person constantly resides, charged with the care of it, and appointed its guard. It is placed upon a stand, and is never suffered to touch the earth. It is concealed from the sight by several envelops, which are composed of strands of the proper skins, plaited and joined together in the form of a mat. The whole constitutes a parcel of considerable size, from which various articles are suspended, such as tobacco and roots of certain plants.

No person dares to open all the coverings of this sacred deposit, in order to expose the shell to view. {48} Tradition informs them, that curiosity induced three different persons to examine the mysterious shell, who were immediately punished for their profanation, by instant and total loss of sight. The last of these offenders, whose name is Ish-ka-tappe, is still living. It was ten years since that he attempted to unveil the sacred shell, but, like his predecessors, he was visited by blindness, which still continues, and is attributed by the Indians, as well as by himself, to his committing of the forbidden act.

This shell is taken with the band to all the national hunts, and is transported by means of a hoppas on the back of a man.

Previously to undertaking a national expedition against an enemy, the sacred shell is consulted as an oracle. For this purpose, the magi of the band seat themselves around the great medicine lodge, the lower part of which is then thrown up like curtains, and the exterior envelop is carefully removed from the mysterious parcel, that the shell may receive air. A portion of the tobacco, consecrated by being long suspended to the skin mats, or coverings of the shell, is now taken and distributed to the magi, who fill their pipes with it, to smoke to the great medicine. During this ceremony, an individual occasionally inclines his head forward, and listens attentively to catch some sound which he expects to issue from the shell. At length some one imagines that he hears a sound like that of a forced expiration of air from the lungs, or like the noise made by the report of a gun at a great distance. This is considered as a favourable omen, and the nation prepare for the projected expedition with a confidence of success. But, on the contrary, should no sound be perceived, the issue of the expedition would be considered doubtful.

2. _Enk-ka-sa-ba._—This band will not eat red maize. They ascribe to their family the greatest antiquity, and declare that their first man emerged {49} from the water, with an ear of red maize in his hand. The principal chief is Ishkatappe.

3. _Wa-sa-ba-eta-je_; or, those who do not touch bears.—This band refrains from eating the flesh of bears.

4. _Ka-e-ta-je_, or those who do not touch turtles or tortoises.

5. _Wa-jinga-e-ta-je_, or those who do not touch any kind of bird, excepting the war-eagle.

6. _Hun-guh._—This band does not eat white cranes, as the down of that bird is their medicine.

7. _Kon-za._—This band must not touch the green clay, or even verdigrise, both of which are used as pigments by the other bands, for ornamenting their persons.

8. _Ta-pa-taj-je._—This band must not touch deers' heads, neither must they wear deer-skin mockasins. Many of the individuals of this band are partially gray haired. This change of the hair, which they consider as a deformity, is attributed to a violation of the abovementioned laws prescribed by their medicine.

The second division, or tribe _Ishtasunda_, is subdivided into five bands.

1. _Ta-pa-eta-je._—This band does not touch bison heads.

2. _Mon-eka-goh-ha_, or the earth-makers.—Of this band was the celebrated Black Bird. They are not forbidden the use of any aliment; and are said to have originated the present mode of mourning, by rubbing the body with whitish clay.

3. _Ta-sin-da_, or the bison tail.—This band does not eat bison calves, in the first year of the age of that animal.

4. _Ing-gera-je-da_, or the red dung.—This name is said to have originated from the circumstance of this band having formerly quarrelled, and separated themselves from the nation, until, being nearly {50} starved, they were compelled to eat the fruit of the wild cherry-tree, until their excrement became red.

5. _Wash-a-tung._—This band must not touch any of the reptilia class of animals.

Each of these animals, or parts of animals, which the bands respectively are forbidden to touch or eat, is regarded as the particular mysterious medicine of the band collectively, to which it relates.

This singular, and, to us, absurd law, of interdiction, is generally rigidly observed; and a violation of it, they firmly believe, will be followed by some signal judgment, such as blindness, gray hairs, or general misfortune. Even should the forbidden food be eaten inadvertently, or but tasted through ignorance, sickness they believe would be the inevitable consequence, not only to the unfortunate individual himself, but involving his wife and children also.

The name of one of the bands of the Puncaw nation is _Wa-jaja_, corresponding to the name which the Osages acknowledge, which is _Waw-sash-e_.

We have before observed, that they take great pleasure in relating and hearing the narration of fabulous legends. The following specimen will serve to exemplify their taste in this way.

A bison bull, an ant, and a tortoise, agreed to undertake a joint war excursion, against the village of a neighbouring nation. As the latter associate was a slow walker, it was mutually decided in council, that he should set out on the journey immediately, to be followed in a short time by his more active companions. The tortoise accordingly departed alone, making his way through the grass, with as much rapidity as possible. After a proper interval had elapsed, the bull also set out; and lest he should lose his fellow traveller, he consented to take him on his back. On their way the two champions were obliged to cross a miry place, in the midst of which they overtook the tortoise, struggling onward with {51} the utmost labour, and apparently almost exhausted. They did not fail, as they passed gaily by the sluggish reptile, to express their surprise at his unusually tardy movements, and at the circumstance of his being apparently almost subdued by the first obstacle that presented itself. The tortoise, however, not at all discouraged, requested them to continue their journey, and expressed his confident expectation of being able to extricate himself from the mire, without the aid which they did not seem forward in offering to him. The two companions arrived at the village of the enemy, and were so incautious in their approaches to it, as to be discovered by the inhabitants, who sallied out upon them, and succeeded in wounding them both. The tortoise at length reached the village, and was also discovered, but had the additional misfortune of being taken prisoner.

To punish him for his presumption, the enemy resolved to put him to death in such a manner as would be most painful to him. They accordingly threatened him successively with a number of different forms of torture, such as baking in hot embers, boiling, &c., with each of which the captive artfully expressed his entire satisfaction. They finally proposed to drown him; and this mode of punishment being so earnestly protested against by the tortoise, they determined to carry it into immediate execution.

With this view, several of the enemy carried him out into a deep part of the river, and threw him in.

The tortoise, thus released, and, through the ignorance of the captors in the art of torturing, abandoned to an element in which he could act freely and with much power, dived down from their view, and rising again, dragged two or three of them under water successively, and scalped them. Then rising above the surface of the water, he exhibited the scalps triumphantly to the enemy, who stood in {52} crowds upon the bank of the river, unable to injure him. Content with his fortunate achievement, the tortoise now journeyed homeward; and on arriving at his lodge, he found there the bull and ant, both in bed, groaning piteously with their wounds.

Upon the reality of such stories, many of the auditors seem to rely with implicit faith, particularly as their occurrence is referred to the chronology of former times, by such a prefatory notice as "once upon a time." The narrator proceeds with a degree of gravity of feature suitable to the nature of the events of his story; and notes a variety of little circumstances in detail, which contribute much to give the whole an air of truth to his auditors, who listen with an undivided attention, uttering occasionally an interjection, as their feelings are excited.

That the inferior animals did, in ancient times, march to battle with simultaneous regularity, that they conversed intelligibly, and performed all the different actions of men, many of them appear to admit, with as much faith as many equally absurd doctrines are believed in Christendom. But these qualities are supposed to be no longer inherent; and if an animal should now speak with the voice of man, it is either the effect of the immediate inspiration of the Wahconda, or the apparent animal is no other than the Wahconda himself incarnate.

The Indians sometimes indulge in pleasantry in their conversation; and Shaumonekusse seemed to be eminently witty—a quality strongly indicated by his well-marked features of countenance. Their wit, however, is generally obscene, particularly when in conversation with the squaws.

Washingguhsahba, conversing familiarly with a Frenchman, who had long resided in the Omawhaw village, observed that the white people, being in the habit of reading books with the desire of acquiring knowledge, probably knew the cause of the difference of colour which exists between themselves and {53} the Indian; he therefore requested information from the Frenchman on this subject. The latter, assuming an air of great gravity, assured him that the cause was very well known, and was no other than that the Indian was formed of red horse-dung. The chief, with every appearance of candour, which, however, he did not feel, instantly placed his hand on the arm of his companion, and replied that this observation was a convincing proof of the great knowledge of the white people, and that they were perfectly familiar with the early operations of the Master of Life. He had no doubt, he said, that they were equally well informed as to the matter out of which they were themselves formed; but if he, a poor ignorant Indian, with no knowledge but his own, might venture to give his opinion, he would say, that they were formed of the excrement of the dog, baked white in the prairie.

They sometimes employ an indirect method of communicating information, and of explaining some particular acts of their own, which may have been erroneously construed by others.

Several Omawhaws, accompanied by a Frenchman, one day passed our cantonment, on their way to the trading house, with a considerable quantity of jerked meat. On their return they visited us; when one of them, who amused himself by turning over the leaves of a book in search of pictures, being asked by a squaw, in a jocular manner, what the book said, replied, "It tells me, that when we were taking our meat to the trading house, we wished to present some of it to white people on the way, but that the Frenchman would not permit us to do so." This remark explained the reason of their having offered us no meat.

An Indian, observing that one of our men, when cutting wood, uttered the interjection _hah!_ at each blow with the axe, smiled; and asked if it assisted him, or added force to the blow.

{54} The Kinnecanick, or, as the Omawhaws call it, _Ninnegahe_, mixed or made tobacco, which they use for smoking in their pipes, is composed partly of tobacco, and partly of the leaves of the sumack (rhus glabrum); but many prefer to the latter ingredient, the inner bark of the red willow (cornus sericea); and when neither of the two latter can be obtained, the inner bark of the arrow wood (viburnum) is substituted for them. These two ingredients are well dried over the fire, and comminuted together by friction between the hands.

Their pipes are neatly made of the red indurated clay, which they procure from the red pipestone branch of the Sioux river.[26] The mass is readily cut with a common knife.

[26] The pipestone quarry is in Pipestone County, Minnesota, on Pipestone Creek, a branch of the Big Sioux. See J. Long's _Voyages_, in our volume ii, note 43.—ED.

They frequently eject the smoke through the nostrils, and often inhale it into the lungs, from which it is gradually ejected again as they converse, or in expiration.

An Omawhaw, after an eructation of wind from the stomach, is often heard to say, "_How-wa-ne-ta_," thank you, animal; which they explain by saying, that some animal has presented itself to the hunter. The exclamation, however, has but an obscure meaning, and may be compared as somewhat similar to the "God bless you" of the French, after the convulsion of sneezing.

They indulge much in the pleasures of dancing, and their dances are of various denominations; of which the following may be particularized.

The calumet dance, _nin-ne-ba-wa-wong_, is a very favourite dance. It is usually performed by two individuals, in honour, and in the presence, of some one of their own or of a neighbouring nation, with the expectation of receiving presents in return. A person who intends to perform this dance sends a messenger, bearing a small skin containing tobacco to fill a pipe, to the individual whom he intends to honour. If the proposed compliment should not be {55} acceptable, it is refused in the most courteous manner, with excuses based upon poverty, and with many thanks for the honour intended. If, on the contrary, the tobacco should be accepted and smoked, the act shows that the visit also will be acceptable; and a time is fixed for the performance of the ceremony. At the appointed time, the dancers, with two selected companions, repair to the place of their destination, and are invited into the lodge of the person whom they addressed. After a short time, the calumet is placed upon a forked support, which is driven into the soil in the back part of the lodge. Notice is then given to the bearer of the calumet respecting the time when it will be convenient for the dance to take place. The bearer of the calumet is now considered as the _father_, and addresses the individual whom he is about to honour by the title of _son_, presenting him with some valuable articles; such as a gun, kettle, blankets, and clothing and ornaments for his youngest child, who is destined to represent the father, or the adopted son, at the ensuing ceremony.

At sunset the calumet is taken from the forked stick, or support, enveloped like an infant in swaddling clothes, and placed carefully in a bed, prepared for its reception; a lullaby is then sung, accompanied by the music of the rattle, for its quiet repose. On the following morning it is _awakened_ by a song, with the same music, and again consigned to its forked support. The appointed day having arrived, a space of sufficient diameter, is enclosed by a skreen of skins for the dance, and a post is fixed in the earth, near the entrance to the area. Around this area the principal men of the nation seat themselves; the adopted son leads in his youthful representative; and the two dancers, decorated with paint, and entirely destitute of clothing, with the exception of the breech-cloth, commence the dance. They are each provided with a decorated calumet stem, and a rattle {56} of dried skin, or a gourd, containing pebbles, with which to keep time to the music of the gong, and to the vocal chanting of the musicians of the village. They dance in the ordinary manner of the Indians, and pass backwards and forwards between the entrance and back part of the area, endeavouring to exhibit as much agility as possible in their movements, throwing themselves into a great variety of attitudes imitative of the actions of the war eagle, preserving at the same time a constant waving motion with the calumet in the left hand, and agitating the gourd in the right, more or less vehemently, agreeably to the music.