Dahcotah - Mary Eastman
But the Dahcotah soon perceived he was among enemies, and he kept a
careful look out upon them. The little Dahcotah was always quarrelling
with the young bears; and on one occasion, being pretty hungry, a cub
annoying him at the time very much, he deliberately shot the cub with
his bow and arrow, and ate him up. This aroused the vengeance of the
bears; they had a consultation among themselves, and swore they would
kill both father and son.
It would be impossible to tell of the troubles of Chaske. His wife, he
could see, loved one of the bears, and was anxious for his own death;
but whenever he contended with the bears he came off victor. Whether in
running a foot race, or shooting with a bow and arrow, or whatever it
might be, he always won the prize, and this made his enemies still
more venomous.
Four years had now passed since Chaske left his native village, and
nothing had ever been heard of him. But at length the wanderer returned.
But who would have recognized, in the crest-fallen, melancholy-looking
Indian, the gay warrior that had left home but a few years before? The
little boy that held his hand was cheerful enough, and seemed to
recognize acquaintances, instead of looking for the first time on the
faces of his father's friends.
How did the young girls laugh when he told of the desertion of his first
wife; but when he continued his story, and told them of the
faithlessness of the bear woman also, you heard nothing but shouts of
derision. Was it not a triumph for the Dahcotah women? How had he
scorned them before he went away!--Did he not say that women were only
dogs, or worse than dogs?
But there was one among his old acquaintances who would not join in the
laughter. As she looked on the care-worn countenance of the warrior, she
would fain have offered to put new mocassins upon his feet, and bring
him food. But she dared not subject herself to the ridicule of her
companions--though as night came on, she sought him when there was no
one to heed her.
"Chaske," she called--and the Dahcotah turned hastily towards her,
attracted by the kindness of her voice--"there are no women who love as
the Dahcotah women. I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you,
but you despised me. You have come back, and are laughed at. Care has
broken your spirit, or you would not submit to the sneers of your old
friends, and the contempt of those who once feared you. I will be your
wife, and, mingling again in the feasts and customs of your race, you
will soon be the bold and fearless warrior that you were when you
left us."
And her words were true; for the Indians soon learned that they were not
at liberty to talk to Chaske of his wanderings. He never spoke of his
former wives, except to compare them with his present, who was as
faithful and obedient as they were false and troublesome. "And he.
found," says Chequered Cloud, "that there was no land like the
Dahcotah's, no river like the Father of waters, and no happiness like
that of following the deer across the open prairies, or of listening, in
the long summer days, to the wisdom of the medicine men."
And she who had loved him in his youth, and wept for him in his absence,
now lies by his side--for Chaske has taken another long journey. Death
has touched him, but not lightly, and pointed to the path which leads to
the Land of Spirits--and he did not go alone; for her life closed with
and together their spirits watch over the mortal frames that they
once tenanted.
"Look at the white woman's life," said Chequered Cloud, as she
concluded the story of Chaske, "and then at the Dahcotah's. You sleep on
a soft bed, while the Dahcotah woman lays her head upon the ground, with
only her blanket for a covering; when you are hungry you eat, but for
days has the Dahcotah woman wanted for food, and there was none to give
it. Your children are happy, and fear nothing; ours have crouched in the
earth at night, when the whoop and yell of the Chippeways sent terror to
their young hearts, and trembling to their tender limbs.
"And when the fire-water of the white man has maddened the senses of the
Dahcotah, so that the blow of his war club falls upon his wife instead
of his enemy, even then the Dahcotah woman must live and suffer on."
"But, Chequered Cloud, the spirit of the Dahcotah watches over the body
which remains on earth. Did you not say the soul went to the house
of spirits?"
"The Dahcotah has four souls," replied the old woman; "one wanders about
the earth, and requires food; another protects the body; the third goes
to the Land of Spirits, while the fourth forever hovers around his
native village."
"I wish," said I, "that you would believe in the God of the white
people. You would then learn that there is but one soul, and that that
soul will be rewarded for the good it has done in this life, or punished
for the evil."
"The Great Spirit," she replied, "is the God of the Dahcotah. He made
all things but thunder and wild rice. When we do wrong we are punished
in this world. If we do not live up to the laws of our forefathers, the
spirits of the dead will punish us. We must keep up the customs of our
tribe. If we are afraid that the thunder will strike us, we dance in
honor of it, and destroy its power. Our great medicine feasts are given
in honor of our sacred medicine, which will not only heal the sick, but
will preserve us in danger; and we make feasts for the dead.
"Our children are taught to do right. They are not to injure one who has
not harmed them; but where is the Dahcotah who will not rejoice as he
takes the life of his enemy?"
"But," said I, "you honor the thunder, and yet it strikes you. What is
the thunder, and where does it come from?"
"Thunder is a large bird, flying through the air; its bright tracks are
seen in the heavens, before you hear the clapping of its wings. But it
is the young ones who do the mischief. The parent bird would not hurt a
Dahcotah. Long ago a thunder bird fell dead from the heavens; and our
fathers saw it as it lay not far from Little Crow's village.
"It had a face like a Dahcotah warrior, with a nose like an eagle's
bill. Its body was long and slender, its wings were large, and on them
was painted the lightning. Our warriors were once out hunting in the
winter, when a terrible storm came on, and a large thunder bird
descended to the earth, wearing snow-shoes; he took but a few steps and
then rose up, leaving his tracks in the snow. That winter our hunters
killed many bears."
TAH-WE-CHU-KIN;
THE WIFE.
* * * * *
In February, 1837, a party of Dahcotahs (Warpetonian) fell in with
Hole-in-the-Day, and his band. When Chippeways and Dahcotahs meet there
is generally bloodshed; and, however highly Hole-in-the-Day may be
esteemed as a warrior, it is certain that he showed great treachery
towards the Dahcotahs on many occasions.
Now they met for peaceable purposes. Hole-in-the-Day wished permission
to hunt on the Dahcotah lands without danger from the tomahawk of his
enemies. He proposed to pay them certain articles, which he should
receive from the United States Government when he drew his annuities, as
a return for the privilege he demanded.
The Dahcotahs and Chippeways were seated together. They had smoked the
pipe of peace. The snow had drifted, and lay piled in masses behind
them, contrasting its whiteness with their dark countenances and their
gay ornaments and clothing. For some years there had been peace between
these two tribes; hating each other, as they did, they had managed to
live without shedding each other's blood.
Hole-in-the-Day was the master spirit among the Chippeways. He was the
greatest hunter and warrior in the nation; he had won the admiration of
his people, and they had made him chief. His word was law to them; he
stood firmly on the height to which he had elevated himself.
He laid aside his pipe and arose. His iron frame seemed not to feel the
keen wind that was shaking the feathers in the heads of the many
warriors who fixed their eyes upon him.
He addressed the Dahcotah warriors. "All nations," said he, "as yet
continue the practice of war, but as for me, I now abandon it. I hold
firmly the hand of the Americans. If you, in future, strike me twice or
even three times, I will pass over and not revenge it. If wars should
continue, you and I will not take part in them. You shall not fight,
neither will I. There shall be no more war in that part of the country
lying between Pine Island and the place called Hanoi catnip, (They shot
them in the night). Over this extent of country we will hold the pipe
firmly. You shall hold it by the bowl, and we will hold it by the stem.
The pipe shall be in your keeping." So saying, Hole-in-the-Day advanced
and presented the Dahcotahs with a pipe.
After a moment he continued his speech. "On account of your misconduct,
we did desire your death, and if you had met us last winter to treat of
peace, however great your numbers, we should have killed you all. White
men had ordered us to do so, and we should have done it; because the
Mendewakantonwans had informed us that you intended by treachery to
kill us."
The Dahcotah chief then replied to him saying, that the Dahcotahs were
willing that the Chippeways should hunt on their lands to the borders of
the prairie, but that they should not enter the prairie. The Chippeways
then agreed to pay them a large quantity of sugar, a keg of powder, and
a quantity of lead and tobacco.
After their engagement was concluded, Hole-in-the-Day rose again and
said, "In the name of the Great Spirit, this peace shall be forever,"
and, turning to Wandiokiya (the Man that talks to the Eagle), a Dahcotah
who had been taught by the missionaries to read and write, requested him
to commit to writing the agreement which had just been made.
Wandiokiya did so, and has since forwarded the writing to the Rev. Mr.
P----, who resides near Fort Snelling. The Dahcotah adds, "We have now
learned that the object of Hole-in-the-Day was to deceive and kill us;
and he and his people have done so, showing that they neither fear God
nor the chief of the American people.
"In this manner they deceived us, deceived us in the name of the Gods.
"Hole-in-the-Day led the band of murderers.
"WANDIOKIYA."
CHAPTER II.
We shall see how faithfully the Chippeway chief kept the treaty that he
had called upon the Great Spirit to witness. There has been great
diversity of opinion concerning Hole-in-the-Day, The Chippeways and
Dahcotahs all feared him. Some of the white people who knew him
admired, while others detested his character.
He was certainly, what all the Chippeways have been, a friend of the
white people, and equally an enemy to the Dahcotahs. He encouraged all
attempts that were made towards the civilization of his people; he tried
to induce them to cultivate the ground; indeed, he sometimes assumed the
duties which among savages are supposed to belong exclusively to
females, and has been frequently seen to work in his garden. Had it been
possible, he would even have forced the Chippeways to civilization.
He had three wives--all sisters. He was fond of them, but if they
irritated him, by disputing among themselves, or neglecting any thing
which he found necessary to his comfort, he was very violent. Blows were
the only arguments he used on such occasions.
The present chief is one of his children; several of them died young,
and their father felt their loss most keenly. Grave and stoical as was
his deportment, his feelings were very strong, and not easily
controlled.
He was a man of deep thought, and of great ambition. The latter passion
was gratified to as great a degree as was possible. Loved by his tribe,
feared by his enemies, respected and well treated by the white people,
what more could a savage ask? Among the Indians he was a great man, but
he was truly great in cunning and deceit.
On this occasion, however, the Dahcotahs had perfect confidence in him,
and it was on the first day of April, in the same year, that they
arrived at the place appointed to meet the Chippeways, near the east
branch of the Chippeway river, about thirty miles northeast of Lac qui
parle. The women raised the teepees, six in number, and prepared the
scanty portion of food for their families. Here they remained, until
their patience was almost exhausted, constantly expecting
Hole-in-the-Day to appear; but day after day passed, and they were still
disappointed. Now and then the reports of fire-arms were heard near
them, but still the Chippeways did not visit the camp of the Dahcotahs.
Famine now showed itself among them. They had neither corn nor flour.
Had the wild ducks flown over their heads in clouds, there was but
little powder and shot to kill them--but there were few to be seen. Some
of the Indians proposed moving their camp where game was more
plenty--where they might see deer, and use their bows and arrows to some
purpose. But others said, if they were not at the appointed place of
meeting, they would violate the contract, and lose their claim to the
articles that Hole-in-the-day had promised to deliver to them.
It was finally concluded that the party should divide, one half moving
off in search of food, the other half remaining where they were, in
hopes that Hole-in-the-Day would make his appearance.
Three teepees then remained, and they were occupied by seventeen
persons, all women and children excepting four. It was drawing on
towards evening, when the Dahcotahs heard the sound of footsteps, and
their satisfaction was very great, when they perceived the Chippeway
chief approach, accompanied by ten of his men. These men had been
present at the council of peace in February.
One of the Dahcotahs, named Red Face, had left his family in the
morning, to attend to the traps he had set for beaver. He had not
returned when the Chippeways arrived. His two wives were with the
Dahcotahs who received the Chippeways. One of these women had two
children; the other was quite young, and, according to Indian ideas,
beautiful too. She was the favorite wife.
The Dahcotahs received the Chippeways with real pleasure, in full faith
and confidence. "Hole-in-the-Day has been long in coming," said one of
the Dahcotahs; "his friends have wished to smoke the pipe of peace with
him, but some of them have left us to seek for food. We welcome you, and
will eat together, and our friendship shall last forever."
Hole-in-the-Day met his advances with every appearance of cordiality.
One thing, however, the Dahcotahs observed, that the Chippeways did not
fire their guns off when they arrived, which is done by Indians when
they make a visit of friendship.
The party passed the evening in conversation. All the provisions of the
Dahcotahs were called in requisition to feast the Chippeways. After
eating, the pipe went round again, and at a late hour they laid down to
sleep, the Chippeways dividing their party, several in each teepee.
Hole-in-the-day lay down by the side of his host, so motionless you
would have thought that sleep had paralyzed his limbs and senses; his
regular breathing intimates a heart at peace with himself and his foes;
but that heart was beating fast, for in a moment he raises himself
cautiously, gazes and smiles too upon the sleeping Dahcotah beside him.
He gives the appointed signal, and instantaneously plunges his knife
into the heart of the trusting Dahcotah. It was child's play afterwards
to quiet the shrill shrieks of the terrified wife. A moment more, and
she and her child lay side by side, never to awake again.
For a short time broken and shrill cries were heard from the other
teepees, but they were soon over. The two wives of Red Face had laid
down without a fear, though their protector was absent. The elder of the
two clasped her children to her heart, consoled, in a measure, while
listening to their calm breathing, for the loss of the love of her
husband. She knew that the affections of a husband might vary, but the
tie between mother and child is indissoluble.
The young wife wondered that Red Face was not by her side. But he would
return to-morrow, and her welcome would be all the greeting that he
would wish for. While her thoughts are assuming the form of dreams, she
sees the fatal weapon pointed at the mother and child. The bullet that
kills the sleeping infant on its mother's breast, wounds the mother
also; but she flies in horror, though not soon enough to escape the
sight of her other pleading child, her warrior-son, vainly clasping his
hands in entreaty to the savage, who, with another blow from his
tomahawk, puts an end to his sufferings. The wretched mother escapes,
for Hole-in-the-Day enters the teepee, and takes prisoner the younger
wife. She escapes a present death--what will be her future fate?
CHAPTER III.
The elder of the two wives escaped from the murderous Chippeways. Again
and again, in the darkness of the night, she turns back to flee from her
deadly foe, but far more from the picture of her children, murdered
before her eyes. She knew the direction in which the Dahcotahs who had
left the party had encamped, and she directed her steps to find them.
One would think she would have asked death from her enemies--her husband
loved her no more, her children were dead--but she clung to life.
She reached the teepees at last, and hastened to tell of her sorrows,
and of the treachery of Hole-in-the-Day. For a moment the utmost
consternation prevailed among the Indians, but revenge was the second
thought, and rapidly were their preparations made to seek the scene of
the murder. The distance was accomplished in a short time, and the
desolation lay before their eyes.
The fires in the teepees were not gone out; the smoke was ascending to
the heavens; while the voices of the murdered Dahcotahs seemed to call
upon their relatives for revenge.. There lay the warriors, who, brave as
Hole-in-the-Day, had laid aside their weapons, and reposed on the faith
of their enemies, their strong limbs powerless, their faces turned
towards the light, which fell upon their glassy eyes. See the mother, as
she bends over the bodies of her innocent children!--her boy, who walked
so proudly, and said he would kill deer for his mother; her infant,
whose life had been taken, as it were, from her very heart. She strains
them to her bosom, but the head leans not towards her, and the arms are
stiff in death.
Red Face has asked for his young wife. She is alive, but, far worse than
death, she is a prisoner to the Chippeways. His children are dead before
his eyes, and their mother, always obedient and attentive, does not hear
him when he speaks to her. The remains of the feast are scattered on
the ground; the pipe of peace lies broken among them.
In the course of the morning the Rev. Mr.----, missionary among the
Dahcotahs, with the assistance of an Indian named Round Wind, collected
the bodies and buried them.
Of the fourteen persons who were in the three teepees, no more than four
escaped; two young men and two women.
The Chippeways fled as quickly as possible from the country of the
Dahcotahs, with their prisoner--sad change for her. A favorite wife
finds herself in the power of ten warriors, the enemies of her people.
The cries of her murdered friends are yet sounding in her ears; and she
knows not how soon their fate may be hers. Every step of the weary
journey she pursues, takes her farther from her country. She dares not
weep, she cannot understand the language of her enemies, but she
understands their looks, and knows she must obey them. She wishes they
would take her life; she would take it herself, but she is watched, and
it is impossible.
She sees by their angry gestures and their occasional looks towards her,
that she is the subject of their dispute, until the chief raises his
eyes and speaks to the Chippeways--and the difference ceases.
At length her journey is at an end. They arrive at the village, and
Hole-in-the-Day and his warriors are received with manifestations of
delight. They welcomed him as if he had performed a deed of valor
instead of one of cowardice.
The women gaze alternately upon the scalps and upon the prisoner. She,
poor girl, is calm now; there is but one thought that makes her tired
limbs shake with terror. She sees with a woman's quickness that there is
no female among those who are looking at her as beautiful as she is. It
may be that she may be required to light the household fires for one of
her enemies. She sees the admiring countenance of one of the young
Chippeway warriors fixed upon her; worn out with fatigue, she cannot
support the wretched thought. For a while she is insensible even to
her sorrows.
On recovering, food is given her, and she tries to eat. Nothing but
death can relieve her. Where are the spirits of the rocks and rivers of
her land? Have they forgotten her too?
Hole-in-the-Bay took her to his teepee. She was his prisoner, he chose
to adopt her, and treated her with every kindness. He ordered his men
not to take her life; she was to be as safe in his teepee as if she were
his wife or child.
For a few days she is allowed to remain quiet; but at length she is
brought out to be present at a council where her fate was to be decided.
Hole-in-the-Day took his place in the council, and ordered the prisoner
to be placed near him. Her pale and resigned countenance was a contrast
to the angry and excited faces that lowered upon her; but the chief
looked unconcerned as to the event. However his warriors might contend,
the result of the council would depend upon him; his unbounded influence
always prevailed.
After several speeches had been made, Stormy Wind rose and addressed the
chief. His opinion was that the prisoner should suffer death. The
Dahcotahs had always been enemies, and it was the glory of the
Chippeways to take the lives of those they hated. His chief had taken
the prisoner to his teepee; she was safe; she was a member of his
family--who would harm her there? but now they were in council to decide
upon her fate. He was an old man, had seen many winters--he had often
travelled far and suffered much to take the life of an enemy; and here,
where there is one in their power, should they lose the opportunity of
revenge? She was but a woman, but the Dahcotah blood flowed in her
veins. She was not fit to live. The Eagle spoke next. He was glad that
the chief had taken the prisoner to his teepee--it had been always
customary occasionally to adopt a prisoner, and the chief did well to
keep up the customs of their tribe. The prisoner was young, she could be
taught to love the Chippeway nation; the white people did not murder
their prisoners; the Chippeways were the friends of the white people;
let them do as they did, be kind to the prisoner and spare her life. The
Eagle would marry the Dahcotah girl; he would teach her to speak the
language of her adopted tribe; she should make his mocassins, and her
children would be Chippeways. Let the chief tell the Eagle to take the
girl home to his teepee.
The Eagle's speech created an excitement. The Indians rose one after the
other, insisting upon the death of their prisoner. One or two seconded
the Eagle's motion to keep her among them, but the voices of the others
prevailed. The prisoner saw by the faces of the savages what their words
portended. When the Eagle rose to speak, she recognized the warrior
whose looks had frightened her; she knew he was pleading for her life
too; but the memory of her husband took away the fear of death. Death
with a thousand terrors, rather than live a wife, a slave to the
Chippeways! The angry Chippeways are silenced, for their chief addresses
them in a voice of thunder; every voice is hushed, every countenance is
respectfully turned towards the leader, whose words are to decide the
fate of the unhappy woman before them.
"Where is the warrior that will not listen to the words of his chief? my
voice is loud and you shall hear. I have taken a Dahcotah woman
prisoner; I have chosen to spare her life; she has lived in my teepee;
she is one of my family; you have assembled in council to-day to decide
her fate--I have decided it. When I took her to my teepee, she became as
my child or as the child of my friend. You shall not take her life, nor
shall you marry her. She is my prisoner--she shall remain in my teepee."
Seeing some motion of discontent among those who wished to take her
life, he continued, while his eyes shot fire and his broad chest heaved
with anger:
"Come then and take her life. Let me see the brave warrior who will take
the life of my prisoner? Come! she is here; why do you, not raise your
tomahawks? It is easy to take a woman's scalp."
Not a warrior moves. The prisoner looks at the chief and at his
warriors. Hole-in-the-Day leads her from the council and points to his
teepee, which is again her home, and where she is as safe as she would
be in her husband's teepee, by the banks of the Mine So-to.
CHAPTER IV.