Dahcotah - Mary Eastman
And while her parents mourned their unkindness, her lover would admire
that firmness which made death more welcome than the triumph of
his rival.
And sacred is the spot where the devoted girl closed her earthly
sorrows. Spirits are ever hovering near the scene. The laugh of the
Dahcotah is checked when his canoe glides near the spot. He points to
the bluff, and as the shades of evening are throwing dimness and a
mystery around the beauty of the lake, and of the mountains, he fancies
he can see the arms of the girl as she tosses them wildly in the air.
Some have averred they heard her voice as she called to the spirits of
the rock, and ever will the traveller, as he passes the bluff, admire
the wondrous beauty of the picture, and remember the story of the
lover's leap.
There is a tradition among the Dahcotahs which fixes a date to the
incident, as well as to the death of the rival lovers of Wenona.
They say that it occurred about the time stated, and that the band of
Indians went and obtained the porcupines, and then they returned and
settled on the St. Croix river.
Shortly after the tragical death of Wenona, the band went again down the
Mississippi, and they camped at what they call the medicine wood. Here a
child died, and the body was laid on a scaffold. The father in the
middle of the night went out to mourn for his child. While he leant
against the scaffold weeping, he saw a man watching him. The stranger
did not appear to be a Dahcotah, and the mourner was alarmed, and
returned to the camp. In the morning he told the Indians of the
circumstance, and they raised the camp and went into the pine country.
The body of the child was carried along, and in he night the father went
out again to lament its death. The same figure appeared to him, and
again he returned, alarmed at the circumstance.
In the morning the Indians moved their camp again, and at night the same
occurrence took place.
The Dahcotahs are slaves to superstition, and they now dreaded a serious
evil. Their fears were not confirmed in the way they anticipated, for
their foes came bodily, and when daylight appeared, one thousand
Chippeway warriors appeared before them, and the shrill whistle and
terrible whoop of war was heard in earnest.
Dreadful were the shouts of the Chippeways, for the Dahcotahs were
totally unprepared for them, and many were laid low at the first
discharge of the rifles.
The merciless Chippeways continued the work of death. The women and
children fled to their canoes, but the Chippeways were too quick for
them; and they only entered their canoes to meet as certain a fate as
those who remained.
The women had not their paddles with them, and there was an eddy in the
current; as soon as the canoe was pushed from the shore, it would whirl
round, and the delighted Chippeways caught the canoes, and pulled them
ashore again, while others let fall upon their victims the
uplifted tomahawk.
When the Chippeways had killed until they were tired they took what they
wanted from the Sioux camp, and started for home, taking one Dahcotah
boy prisoner. The party had not travelled far, when a number of
Dahcotahs attacked the Chippeways, but the latter succeeded in killing
many of the Dahcotahs. One of the latter fled, and was in his canoe on
the lake St. Croix, when the Chippeways suddenly came upon him.
The little Dahcotah saw his only chance for liberty--he plunged in the
water and made for the canoe of the Dahcotah. In a moment he had reached
and entered it, and the two Dahcotahs were out of sight before the
arrows of their enemies could reach them.
A very few of that band escaped; one of them says that when they were
first attacked by the Chippeways, he saw he had but one chance, so he
dived down to the bottom of the river, and the Chippeways could not
see him.
He found the water at the bottom of the river very cold, and when he had
gone some distance, he ventured where the water was warmer, which he
knew was near the shore. He then came out of the water and made
his escape.
Even this latter trifling incident has been handed down from father to
son, and is believed universally by the Dahcotahs. And according to
their tradition, the lovers and family of Wenona perished in this
battle. At all events, there is no one who can prove that their
tradition or my translation may not be true.
THE INDIAN IN A TRANCE.
* * * * *
About forty years ago, Ahak-tah, "The Male Elk," was taken sick with a
sore throat. It was in the winter too, and sickness and cold together
are hard to bear. Want was an evil from which they were suffering;
though the Dahcotahs were not so poor then as they are now. They had not
given so much of their lands to the white people; and they depended more
upon their own exertions for support than they do at present.
The medicine men did all they could to cure Ahaktah; they tried to charm
away the animal that had entered into his body; they used the sacred
rattle. But Ahaktah's throat got worse; he died, and while his wives and
children wept for him, he had started on his long journey to the land
of spirits.
He was wrapped in scarlet cloth, and laid upon a scaffold. His wives sat
weeping in their teepee, when a cry from their young children drew their
attention to the door. There stood he for whom they mourned. The dead
man again took his place among those who sat beside the household fire.
Tears of grief were shed no more--food was given to Ahaktah, and when he
was refreshed he thus addressed his wondering family:--
"While you were weeping for me, my spirit was on its way to the great
city where our fathers, who have taught us all the wonders of our sacred
medicine, of Haokah the giant, and of the Thunder bird, are now living.
Twice has the sun ceased to shine since I left you, and in that short
time I have seen many strange things. First, I passed through a
beautiful country; the forest-trees were larger than any you have ever
seen. Birds of all colors filled them, and their music was as loud as
when our medicine men play for us to celebrate the scalp dance. The
broad river was full of fish, and the loon screamed as she swam across
the lakes. I had no difficulty in finding my way, for there was a road
through this country. It seemed as if there must have been many
travellers there, though I saw no one.
"This great road was made by the spirits of those who were killed in
battle. No warrior, however brave he may have been, has ever assisted in
making this road, except those who sang their death songs under the
tomahawk of their enemies. Neither did any woman ever assist. She is not
considered worthy to touch the war implements of a Dahcotah warrior, and
she was not permitted to do anything towards completing the path in
which the braves of the Dahcotahs would walk, when they joined their
forefathers in the land of spirits.
"As I pursued my journey, I saw near the banks of the river a teepee; I
entered it, and saw paint and all that a warrior needed to dress himself
in order to be fit to enter the city of spirits. I sat down and plaited
my hair, I put vermilion on my cheeks, and arranged the war-eagle
feathers in my head. Here, I said to myself, did my father rest when he
was on the same journey. I was tired, but I could not wait--I longed to
see my friends who had travelled this path before me--I longed to tell
them that the Dahcotahs were true to the customs of their forefathers--I
longed to tell them that we had drunk deep of the blood of the
Chippeways, that we had eaten the hearts of our enemies, that we had
torn their infants from their mothers' breasts, and dashed them to
the earth.
"I continued my journey, looking eagerly around me to see some one, but
all was desolate; and beautiful as everything was, I would have been
glad to have seen the face of a friend.
"It was evening when a large city burst upon my sight. The houses were
built regularly on the shores of the river. As far as I could see, the
homes of the spirits of my forefathers were in view.
"But still I saw no one. I descended the hill towards the river, which I
must cross to reach the city of spirits. I saw no canoe, but I feared
nothing, I was so near my journey's end. The river was wide and deep,
and the waves were swiftly following one another, when I plunged among
them; soon I reached the opposite shore, and as I again stood on the
land, I heard some one cry, 'Here he comes! here he comes!' I approached
the nearest house and entered; everything looked awful and mysterious.
"In the corner of the room sat a figure whom I recognized. It was my
mother's brother, Flying Wind, the medicine man. I remembered him, for
it was he who taught me to use my bow and arrow.
"In a bark dish, in the corner of the room, was some wild rice. I was
very hungry, for I had not eaten since I left the earth. I asked my
uncle for some rice to eat, but he did not give it to me. Had I eaten of
the food for spirits, I never should have returned to earth.
"At last my uncle spoke to me. `My nephew,' said he, 'why are you
travelling without a bow and arrow? how can you provide yourself with
food when you have no means of killing game? When my home was on the
Mississippi, the warriors of the Dahcotahs were never without their bows
and arrows--either to secure their food or to strike to the hearts of
their enemies.'
"I then remembered that I had been travelling without my bow and arrows.
`But where,' said I to my uncle, `where are the spirits of my
forefathers? where is my brother who fell under the tomahawk of his
enemy? where is my sister who threw herself into the power of Unktahe,
rather than to live and see her rival the wife of the Sun? where are the
spirits of the Dahcotah braves whose deeds are still told from father to
son among us?'
"'The Dahcotah braves are still watching for their enemies--the hunters
are bringing in the deer and the buffalo--our women are planting corn
and tanning deer-skin. But you will not now see them; your step is firm
and your eye is bright; you must return to earth, and when your limbs
are feeble, when your eye is dim, then will you return and find your
home in the city of spirits.'
"So saying, he arose and gave me a bow and arrow. I took it, and while
trying it I left the house; but how I do not know.
"The next thing that I remember was being seated on the top of the
cliffs of Eagle's Nest, below Lake Pepin. I heard a sound, and soon
distinguished my mother's voice; she was weeping. I knew that she was
bending over my body. I could see her as she cut off her hair, and I
felt sad when I heard her cry, 'My son! my son!' Then I recollect being
on the top of the half-side mountain on Lake Pepin. Afterwards I was on
the mountain near Red Wing's village, and again I stood on a rock, on a
point of land near where the waters of the Mississippi and St. Peter's
meet, on the 'Maiden's Jumping Rock;' [Footnote: Near Fort Snelling is a
high rock called the Maiden's Jumping Rock; where formerly the Dahcotah
girls used to jump for amusement, a distance of many feet from the top
to the ground.] here I recovered my right mind."
The daughter of Ahaktah says that her father retained the "wahkun" bow
and arrow that was given him by his uncle, and that he was always
successful in hunting or in war; that he enjoyed fine health, and lived
to be a very old man; and she is living now to tell the story.
OECHE-MONESAH;
THE WANDERER.
* * * * *
Chaske was tired of living in the village, where the young men, finding
plenty of small game to support life, and yielding to the languor and
indolence produced by a summer's sun, played at checker's, or drank, or
slept, from morn till night, and seemed to forget that they were the
greatest warriors and hunters in the world. This did very well for a
time; but, as I said, Chaske got tired of it. So he determined to go on
a long journey, where he might meet with some adventures.
Early one morning he shouldered his quiver of arrows, and drawing out
one arrow from the quiver, he shot it in the direction he intended
to go.
"Now," said he, "I will follow my arrow." But it seemed as if he were
destined never to find it, for morning and noon had passed away, and the
setting sun warned him, not only of the approach of night, but of
musquitoes too. He thought he would build a fire to drive the musquitoes
away; besides, he was both hungry and tired, though he had not yet found
his arrow, and had nothing to eat.
When he was hesitating as to what he should do, he saw in the bushes a
dead elk, and behold! his arrow was sticking in its side. He drew the
arrow out, then cut out the tongue, and after making a fire, he put the
tongue upon a stick to roast. But while the tongue was roasting, Chaske
fell asleep and slept many hours.
At day-break a woman came up to him and shook him, as if to awake him.
Chaske started and rubbed his eyes, and the woman pointed to the path
which led across the prairies. Was he dreaming? No, he felt sure he was
awake. So he got up and followed the woman.
He thought it very strange that the woman did not speak to him. "I will
ask her who she is," said he; but as he turned to address her she raised
her arms in the air, and changing her form to that of a beautiful bird,
blue as the sky that hangs over the morning's mist, she flew away.
Chaske was surprised and delighted too. He loved adventures; had he not
left home to seek them? so he pursued his journey, quite forgetting his
supper, which was cooking when he fell asleep.
He shot his arrow off again and followed it. It was late in the evening
when he found it, and then it was in the heart of a moose. "I will not
be cheated out of my supper to-night," said he; so he cut the tongue out
of the moose and placed it before the fire to roast. Hardly had he
seated himself to smoke, when sleep overcame him, and he knew nothing
until morning, when a woman approached and shook him as before, pointing
to the path.
He arose quickly and followed her; and as he touched her arm, determined
to find out who she was, she, turning upon him a brow black as night,
was suddenly changed into a crow.
The Dahcotah was completely puzzled. He had never cared for women; on
the contrary, had avoided them. He never wasted his time telling them
they were beautiful, or playing on the flute to charm their senses. He
thought he had left all such things behind him, but already had he been
twice baffled by a woman. Still he continued his journey. He had this
consolation, the Dahcotah girls did not turn into birds and fly away. At
least there was the charm of novelty in the incidents. The next day he
killed a bear, but as usual he fell asleep while the tongue was
roasting, and this time he was waked by a porcupine. The fourth day he
found his arrow in a buffalo. "Now," said he, "I will eat at last, and I
will find out, too, who and what it is that wakes me."
But he fell asleep as usual, and was waked in the morning by a female
who touched him lightly and pointed to the path. Her back was turned
towards him, and instead of rising to follow her, he caught her in his
arms, determined to see and talk with her.
Finding herself a prisoner, the girl turned her face to him, and Chaske
had never seen anything so beautiful.
Her skin was white as the fairest flower that droops its head over the
banks of the "Lac qui parle." Her hair was not plaited, neither was it
black like the Dahcotah maidens', but it hung in golden ringlets about
her face and neck. The warm blood tinted her cheeks as she met the
ardent gaze of the Dahcotah, and Chaske could not ask her who she was.
How could he speak when his heart was throbbing, and every pulse
beating wildly?
"Let me go," said the girl; "why do you seek to detain me? I am a
beaver-woman, [Footnote: According to the wise men of the Dahcotahs,
beavers and bears have souls. They have many traditions about bear and
beaver-women] and you are a Dahcotah warrior. Turn from me and find a
wife among the dark-faced maidens of your tribe."
"I have always despised them," said the Dahcotah, "but you are more
beautiful than the Spirits of the water. I love you, and will make
you my wife."
"Then you must give up your people," replied the girl, "for I cannot
live as the Dahcotah women. Come with me to my white lodge, and we will
be happy; for see the bright water as it falls on the rocks. We will sit
by its banks during the heat of the day, and when we are tired, the
music of its waves will lull us to sleep."
So she took Chaske by the hand, and they walked on till they came to an
empty white lodge, and there they lived and were very happy. They were
still happier when their little boy began to play about the lodge; for
although they loved each other very much, still it was lonely where they
lived, and the child was company for them both.
There was one thing, however, that troubled the Dahcotah; he could not
turn his mind from it, and day after day passed without relieving him
from his perplexity. His beautiful wife never ate with him. When he
returned in the evening from hunting, she was always glad to see him,
and while he rested himself and smoked, she would cook his meat for him,
and seem anxious to make him comfortable. But he had never seen her eat;
and when he would tell her that he did not like to eat alone, and beg
her to sit down and eat with him, she would say she was not hungry; and
then employ herself about her wigwam, as if she did not wish him to say
any more about it.
Chaske made up his mind that he would find out what his wife lived upon.
So the next morning he took his bow and arrows, as if he were going out
on a day's hunt. After going a short distance from the lodge, he hid
himself in the trees, where he could watch the motions of his wife.
She left the lodge after a while, and with an axe in her hand she
approached a grove of poplar trees. After carefully looking round to
satisfy herself that there was no one near, she cut down a number of the
small and tender poplars, and, carrying them home, ate them as if she
enjoyed them very much. Chaske was infinitely relieved when he saw that
his wife did eat; for it frightened him to think that she lived on
nothing but air. But it was so droll to think she should eat young
trees! surely venison was a great deal better.
But, like a good husband, he thought it was his duty to humor his wife's
fancies. And then he loved her tenderly--he had given up country and
home for her. She was so good and kind, and her beautiful hair! Chaske
called her "The Mocassin Flower," for her golden ringlets reminded him
of that beautiful flower. "She shall not have to cut the trees down
herself," said Chaske, "I will bring her food while she prepares mine."
So he went out to hunt, and returned in the evening; and while his wife
was cooking his supper, he went to the poplar grove and cut a number of
young trees; he then brought them to the lodge, and, laying them down,
he said to his wife, "I have found out at last what you like."
No one would suppose but that the beaver-woman would have been grateful
to her husband for thinking of her. Instead of that, she was very angry;
and, taking her child in her arms, she left the lodge. Chaske was
astonished to see his gentle wife angry, but he concluded he would eat
his supper, and then follow her, hoping that in the meantime she would
recover her good temper.
When he went out, she was nowhere to be seen. He called her--he thought
at first that she had hid herself. But, as night came on, and neither
she nor the child returned, the deserted husband grew desperate; he
could not stay in his lodge, and the only thing that he could do was to
start in search of her.
He walked all night, but saw no trace of her. About sunrise he came to a
stream, and following it up a little way he came to a beaver dam, and on
it sat his wife with her child in her arms. And beautiful she looked,
with her long tresses falling into the water.
Chaske was delighted to find her. "Why did you leave me?" called he. "I
should have died of grief if I had not found you."
"Did I not tell you that I could not live like the Dahcotah women?"
replied Mocassin Flower. "You need not have watched me to find out what
I eat. Return to your own people; you will find there women enough who
eat venison."
The little boy clapped his hands with delight when he saw his father,
and wanted to go to him; but his mother would not let him. She tied a
string to his leg and told him to go, and the child would plunge into
the water, and when he had nearly reached the shore where his father
sat, then would the beaver-woman draw him back.
In the meantime the Dahcotah had been trying to persuade his wife to
come to him, and return to the lodge; but she refused to do so, and sat
combing her long hair. The child had cried itself to sleep; and the
Dahcotah, worn out with fatigue and grief, thought he would go to
sleep too.
After a while a woman came and touched him on the shoulder, and awaked
him as of old. He started and looked at her, and perceiving it was not
his wife, felt inclined to take little notice of her.
"What," said she, "does a Dahcotah warrior still love a woman who hates
him?"
"Mocassin Flower loves me well," replied the Dahcotah; "she has been a
good wife."
"Yes," replied the woman, "she was for a time; but she sighs to return
home--her heart yearns towards the lover of her youth."
Chaske was very angry. "Can this be true?" he said; and he looked
towards the beaver dam where his wife still sat. In the meantime the
woman who had waked him, brought him some food in bark dishes worked
with porcupine.
"Eat," she said to the Dahcotah; "you are hungry."
But who can tell the fury that Mocassin Flower was in when she saw that
strange woman bringing her husband food. "Who are you," she cried, "that
are troubling yourself about my husband? I know you well; you are the
'Bear-Woman.'"
"And if I am," said the Bear woman, "do not the souls of the bears enjoy
forever the heaven of the Dahcotah?"
Poor Chaske! he could not prevent their quarrelling, so, being very
hungry, he soon disposed of what the Bear woman had brought him. When
he had done eating, she took the bark dishes. "Come with me," she said;
"you cannot live in the water, and I will take you to a beautiful lodge,
and we will be happy."
The Dahcotah turned to his wife, but she gave him no encouragement to
remain. "Well," said he, "I always loved adventures, and I will go and
seek some more."
The new wife was not half so pretty as the old one. Then she was so
wilful, and ordered him about--as if women were anything but dogs in
comparison with a Dahcotah warrior. Yes, he who had scorned the Dahcotah
girls, as they smiled upon him, was now the slave of a bear-woman; but
there was one comfort--there were no warriors to laugh at him.
For a while they got on well enough. His wife had twin children--one was
a fine young Dahcotah, and the other was a smart active little bear, and
it was very amusing to see them play together. But in all their fights
the young Dahcotah had the advantage; though the little bear would roll
and tumble, and stick his claws into the Dahcotah, yet it always ended
by the little bear's capering off and roaring after his mother. Perhaps
this was the reason, but for some reason or other the mother did not
seem contented and happy. One morning she woke up very early, and while
telling her husband that she had a bad dream, the dog commenced barking
outside the lodge.
"What can be the matter?" said Chaske.
"Oh!" said the woman, "I know; there is a hunter out there who wants to
kill me, but I am not afraid."
So saying, she put her head out of the door, which the hunter seeing,
shot his arrow; but instead of hurting her, the arrow fell to the
ground, and the bear-woman catching up her little child, ran away and
was soon out of sight.
"Ha!" said Chaske, "I had better have married a Dahcotah girl, for they
do not run away from their husbands except when another wife comes to
take their place. But I have been twice deserted." So saying, he took
the little Dahcotah in his arms, and followed his wife. Towards evening
he came up with her, but she did not seem glad to see him. He asked her
why she left him; she replied, "I want to live with my own people."
"Well," said the Dahcotah, "I will go with you." The woman consented,
though it was plain she did not want him; for she hated her Dahcotah
child, and would not look at him.
After travelling a few days, they approached a grove of trees, which
grew in a large circle. "Do you see that nest of trees?" said the woman.
"There is the great village of the bears. There are many young men there
that loved me, and they will hate you because I preferred you to them.
Take your boy, then, and return to your people." But the Dahcotah feared
not, and they approached the village of the bears.
There was a great commotion among the bears as they discovered them.
They were glad to see the young bear-woman back again, but they hated
the Dahcotah, and determined on his death. However, they received him
hospitably, conducted him and his wife to a large lodge, gave them food,
and the tired travellers were soon asleep.