Dahcotah - Mary Eastman
Harpstenah looked upon death as inevitable; she had ever feared that
terrible race of beings whose home was in the waters. And now the fairy
stood before her!
"Why do you tremble maiden? Only the wicked need fear the anger of the
gods You have never offended us, nor the spirits of the dead. You have
danced in the scalp-dance, and have reverenced the customs of the Sioux.
You have shed many tears. You love Red Deer, and your father has sold
you to Cloudy Sky, the medicine man. It is with you to marry the man you
love, or the one you hate."
"If you know everything," sighed the girl, "then you must know that in
four days I am to take my seat beside Cloudy Sky in his wigwam. He has
twice brought calico and cloth, and laid them at the door of my
father's teepee."
"You shall not marry Cloudy Sky, if you have a strong heart, and fear
nothing," replied the fairy. The spirits of the water have determined on
the death of Cloudy Sky. He has already lived three times on earth. For
many years he wandered through the air with the sons of the thunder
bird; like them he was ever fighting against the friends of Unktahe.
"With his own hand he killed the son of that god, and for that was he
sent to earth to be a medicine man. But long ago we have said that the
time should come, when we would destroy him from the earth. It is for
you to take his life when he sleeps. Can a Dahcotah woman want courage
when she is to be forced to marry a man she hates?"
The waters closed over the fairy as he disappeared, and the waves beat
harder against Harpstenah's feet. She awoke with the words echoing in
her heart, "Can a Sioux woman want courage when she is to be forced to
marry a man she hates?" "The words of the fairy were wise and true,"
thought the maiden. "Our medicine-men say that the fairies of the water
are all wicked; that they are ever seeking to do harm to the Dahcotahs.
My dream has made my heart light. I will take the life of the war chief.
At the worst they can but take mine."
As she looked round the teepee, her eye rested upon the faces of her
parents. The bright moonlight had found its way into the teepee. There
lay her father, his haughty countenance calm and subdued, for the "image
of death" had chased away the impression left on his features of a
fierce struggle with a hard life. How often had he warned her of the
danger of offending Cloudy Sky, that sickness, famine, death itself,
might be the result. Her mother too, had wearied her with warnings. But
she remembered her dream, and with all a Sioux woman's faith in
revelations, she determined to let it influence her course.
Red Deer had often vowed to take the life of his rival, though he knew
it would have assuredly cost him his own. The family of Cloudy Sky was a
large one; there were many who would esteem it a sacred duty to avenge
his death. Besides he would gain nothing by it, for the parents of
Harpstenah would never consent to her marriage with the murderer of the
war chief.
How often had Red Deer tried to induce the young girl to leave the
village, and return with him as his wife. "Have we not always loved each
other," he said. "When we were children, you made me mocassins, and
paddled the canoe for me, and I brought the wild duck, which I shot
while it was flying, to you. You promised me to be my wife, when I
should be a great hunter, and had brought to you the scalp of an enemy.
I have kept my promise, but you have broken yours."
"I know it," she replied; "but I fear to keep my word. They would kill
you, and the spirits of my dead brothers would haunt me for disobeying
my parents. Cloudy Sky says that if I do not marry him he will cast a
spell upon me; he says that the brightness would leave my eye, and the
color my cheek; that my step should be slow and weary, and soon would I
be laid in the earth beside my brothers. The spirit that should watch
beside my body would be offended for my sin in disobeying the counsel of
the aged. You, too, should die, he says, not by the tomahawk, as a
warrior should die, but by a lingering disease--fever should enter your
veins, your strength would soon be gone, you would no longer be able to
defend yourself from your enemies. Let me die, rather than bring such
trouble upon you."
Red Deer could not reply, for he believed that Cloudy Sky could do all
that he threatened. Nerved, then, by her devotion to her lover, her
hatred of Cloudy Sky, and her faith in her dream, Harpstenah determined
her heart should not fail her; she would obey the mandate of the water
god; she would bury her knife in the heart of the medicine man.
CHAPTER III.
In their hours for eating, the Sioux accommodate themselves to
circumstances. If food be plenty, they eat three or four times a day; if
scarce, they eat but once. Sometimes they go without food for several
days, and often they are obliged to live for weeks on the bark of
trees, skins, or anything that will save them from dying of famine.
When game and corn are plenty, the kettle is always boiling, and they
are invariably hospitable and generous, always offering to a visitor
such as they have it in their power to give.
The stars were still keeping watch, when Harpstenah was called by her
mother to assist her. The father's morning meal was prepared early, for
he was going out to hunt. Wild duck, pigeons, and snipe, could be had in
abundance; the timid grouse, too, could be roused up on the prairies.
Larger game was there, too, for the deer flew swiftly past, and had even
stopped to drink on the opposite shore of the "Spirit Lake."
When they assembled to eat, the old man lifted up his hands--"May the
Great Spirit have mercy upon us, and give me good luck in hunting."
Meat and boiled corn were eaten from wooden bowls, and the father went
his way, leaving his wife and daughter to attend to their
domestic cares.
Harpstenah was cutting wood near the lodge, when Cloudy Sky presented
himself. He went into the teepee and lighted his pipe, and then, seating
himself outside, began to smoke. He was, in truth, a sorry figure for a
bridegroom. Always repulsive in his looks, his present dress was not
calculated to improve him. He wore mourning for his enemy, whom he
had killed.
His face was painted perfectly black; nothing but the whites of his eyes
relieved the universal darkness. His blanket was torn and old--his hair
unbraided, and on the top of his head he wore a knot of swan's down.
Every mark of grief or respect he could have shown a dead brother, he
now assumed in honor of the man whom he had hated--whose life he had
destroyed--who had belonged to the hateful tribe which had ever been the
enemy of his nation.
He looked very important as he puffed away, now watching Harpstenah, who
appeared to be unconscious of his presence, now fixing his eyes on her
mother, who was busily employed mending mocassins.
Having finished smoking; he used a fan which was attached to the other
end of his pipe-stem. It was a very warm day, and the perspiration that
was bursting from his forehead mingled with the black paint and slowly
found its way down his face.
"Where is your husband?" at length he asked of the mother.
"He saw a deer fly past this morning," she replied, "and he has gone to
seek it, that I may dry it."
"Does he come back to-night?"
"He does; he said you were to give a medicine feast to-morrow, and that
he would be here."
Harpstenah knew well why the medicine feast was to be given. Cloudy Sky
could not, according to the laws of the Sioux, throw off his mourning,
until he had killed an enemy or given a medicine dance. She knew that he
wanted to wear a new blanket, and plait his hair, and paint his face a
more becoming color. But she knew his looks could not be improved, and
she went on cutting wood, as unconcernedly as if the old war chief were
her grandfather, instead of her affianced husband. He might gain the
good will of her parents, he might even propitiate the spirits of the
dead: She would take his life, surely as the senseless wood yielded to
the strength of the arm that was cleaving it.
"You will be at the feast too," said Cloudy Sky to the mother; "you have
always foretold truly. There is not a woman in the band who can tell
what is going to happen as well as you. There is no nation so great as
the Dahcotah," continued the medicine man, as he saw several idlers
approach, and stretch themselves on the grass to listen to him. "There
is no nation so great as the Dahcotah--but our people are not so great
now as they were formerly. When our forefathers killed buffaloes on
these prairies, that the white people now ride across as if they were
their own, mighty giants lived among them; they strode over the widest
rivers, and the tallest trees; they could lay their hands upon the
highest hills, as they walked the earth. But they were not men of war.
They did not fight great battles, as do the Thunder Bird and
his warriors."
There were large animals, too, in those days; so large that the stoutest
of our warriors were but as children beside them. Their bones have been
preserved through many generations. They are sacred to us, and we keep
them because they will cure us when we are sick, and will save us
from danger.
I have lived three times on earth. When my body was first laid upon the
scaffold, my spirit wandered through the air. I followed the Thunder
Birds as they darted among the clouds. When the heavens were black, and
the rain fell in big drops, and the streaked lightning frightened our
women and children, I was a warrior, fighting beside the sons of the
Thunder Bird.
Unktahe rose up before us; sixty of his friends were with him: the
waters heaved and pitched, as the spirits left them to seek vengeance
against the Thunder Birds. They showed us their terrible horns, but they
tried to frighten us in vain. We were but forty; we flew towards them,
holding our shields before our breasts; the wind tore up the trees, and
threw down the teepees, as we passed along.
All day we fought; when we were tired we rested awhile, and then the
winds were still, and the sun showed himself from behind the dark
clouds. But soon our anger rose. The winds flew along swifter than the
eagle, as the Thunder Birds clapped their wings, and again we fought
against our foes.
The son of Unktahe came towards me; his eyes shone like fire, but I was
not afraid. I remembered I had been a Sioux warrior. He held his shield
before him, as he tried to strike me with his spear. I turned his shield
aside, and struck him to the heart.
He fell, and the waters whirled round as they received his body. The
sons of Unktahe shouted fearful cries of rage, but our yells of triumph
drowned them.
The water spirits shrank to their home, while we returned to the clouds.
The large rain drops fell slowly, and the bow of bright colors rested
between the heavens and the earth. The strife was over, and we were
conquerors. I know that Unktahe hates me--that he would kill me if he
could--but the Thunder bird has greater power than he; the friend of the
'Man of the West' [Footnote: Thunder is sometimes called the Man of the
West.] is safe from harm.
Harpstenah had ceased her work, and was listening to the boaster. "It
was all true," she said to herself; "the fairy of the water told me that
he had offended her race. I will do their bidding. Cloudy Sky may boast
of his power, but ere two nights have passed away, he will find he
cannot despise the anger of the water spirits, nor the courage of a
Dahcotah woman."
CHAPTER IV.
The approach of night brought with it but little inclination to sleep to
the excited girl. Her father slept, tired with the day's hunt; and her
mother dreamed of seeing her daughter the wife of a war chief and a
medicine man.
The village was built on the shores of the lake now known as Lake
Calhoun. By the light of the moon the teepees were reflected in its
waters. It was bright as day; so clear was the lake, that the agates
near the shore sparkled in its waters. The cry of the whippoorwill alone
disturbed the repose of nature, except when the wild scream of the loon
was heard as she gracefully swept the waters.
Seated on the shore, Harpstenah waited to hear the low whistle of her
lover. The villagers were almost all asleep, now and then the laugh of
some rioters was heard breaking in upon the stillness of night. She had
not seen her lover for many days; from the time that her marriage was
determined upon, the young warrior had kept aloof from her. She had
seized her opportunity to tell him that he must meet her where they had
often met, where none should know of their meeting. She told him to
come when the moon rose, as her father would be tired, and her mother
wished to sleep well before the medicine feast.
Many fears oppressed her heart, for he had not answered her when she
spoke to him, and he might not intend to come. Long she waited in vain,
and she now arose to return to the teepee, when the low signal met
her ear.
She did not wait to hear it a second time, but made her way along the
shore: now her steps were printed in the wet sand, now planted on the
rocks near the shore; not a sound followed her movements until she stood
on the appointed place. The bright moonlight fell upon her features, and
her rich dress, as she waited with folded arms for her lover to address
her. Her okendokenda of bright colors was slightly open at the neck, and
revealed brooches of brass and silver that covered her bosom; a heavy
necklace of crimson beads hung around her throat; bracelets of brass
clasped her wrists, and her long plaited hair was ornamented at the end
of the braids with trinkets of silver.
Her cloth petticoat was richly decorated with ribbons, and her leggins
and mocassins proved that she had spent much time and labor on the
adorning of a person naturally well formed, and graceful.
"Why have you wished to meet me, Harpstenah?" said the young man,
gloomily. "Have you come to tell me of the presents Cloudy Sky has made
you, or do you wish to say that you are ashamed to break the promise you
made me to be my wife?"
"I have come to say again that I will be your wife," she replied: "and
for the presents Cloudy Sky left for me, I have trampled them under my
feet. See, I wear near my heart the brooches you have given me."
"Women are ever dogs and liars," said Red Deer, "but why do you speak
such words to me, when you know you have agreed to marry Cloudy Sky?
Your cousin told me your father had chosen him to carry you into the
teepee of the old man. Your father beat you, and you agreed to marry
him. You are a coward to mind a little pain. Go, marry the old medicine
man; he will beat you as he has his other wives; he may strike you with
his tomahawk and kill you, as he did his first wife; or he will sell you
to the traders, as he did the other; he will tell you to steal pork and
whiskey for him, and then when it is found out, he will take you and say
you are a thief, and that he has beaten you for it. Go, the young should
ever mate with the young, but you will soon lie on the scaffold, and by
his hand too."
"The proud eagle seeks to frighten the timid bird that follows it," said
the maiden; "but Red Deer should not speak such angry words to the woman
that will venture her life for him. Cloudy Sky boasts that he is the
friend of the thunder bird; in my dreams, I have seen the fairy of the
waters, and he told me that Cloudy Sky should die by my hand. My words
are true. Cloudy Sky was once with the sons of the thunder birds when
they fought against Unktahe. He killed a son of the water god, and the
spirits of the water have determined on his death.
"Red Deer, my heart is strong. I do not fear the medicine man, for the
power of Unktahe is greater than his. But you must go far away and visit
the Tetons; if you are here, they will accuse you of his death, and will
kill you. But as I have promised to marry him, no one will think that I
have murdered him. It will be long ere I see you again, but in the moon
that we gather wild rice, [Footnote: September] return, and I will be
your wife. Go, now," she added, "say to your mother that you are going
to visit your friends, and before the day comes be far away. To-morrow
Cloudy Sky gives a medicine feast, and to-morrow night Haokah will make
my heart strong, and I will kill the medicine man. His soul will travel
a long journey to the land of spirits. There let him drink, and boast,
and frighten women."
Red Deer heard her, mute with astonishment. The color mantled in her
cheek, and her determined countenance assured him that she was in
earnest. He charged her to remember the secret spells of the medicine
man. If she loved him it was far better to go with him now; they would
soon be out of the reach of her family. To this she would not listen,
and repeating to him her intention of executing all she had told him of,
she left him.
He watched her as she returned to her teepee; sometimes her form was
lost in the thick bushes, he could see her again as she made her way
along the pebbled shore, and when she had entered her teepee he
returned home.
He collected his implements of war and hunting, and, telling his mother
he was going on a long journey, he left the village.
CHAPTER V.
The feast given in honor of their medicine was celebrated the next day,
and Cloudy Sky was thus relieved of the necessity of wearing mourning
for his enemy.
His face was carefully washed of the black paint that disfigured it; his
hair, plentifully greased, was braided and ornamented. His leggins were
new, and his white blanket was marked according to Indian custom. On it
was painted a black hand, that all might know that he had killed his
enemy. But for all he did not look either young or handsome, and
Harpstenah's young friends were astonished that she witnessed the
preparations for her marriage with so much indifference.
But she was unconscious alike of their sympathy and ridicule; her soul
was occupied with the reflection that upon her energy depended her
future fate. Never did her spirit shrink from its appointed task. Nor
was she entirely governed by selfish motives; she believed herself an
instrument in the hand of the gods.
Mechanically she performed her ordinary duties. The wood was cut and the
evening meal was, cooked; afterwards she cut down branches of trees, and
swept the wigwam. In the evening, the villagers had assembled on the
shores of the lake to enjoy the cool air after the heat of the day.
Hours passed away as gossipping and amusement engaged them all. At
length they entered their teepees to seek rest, and Harpstenah and her
mother were the last at the door of their teepee, where a group had been
seated on the ground, discussing their own and others' affairs. "No harm
can come to you, my daughter, when you are the wife of so great a
medicine man. If any one hate you and wish to do you an injury, Cloudy
Sky will destroy their power. Has he not lived with the Thunder Birds,
did he not learn from them to cure the sick, and to destroy his enemies?
He is a great warrior too."
"I know it, my mother," replied the girl, "but we have sat long in the
moonlight, the wind that stirred the waters of the spirit lake is gone.
I must sleep, that I may be ready to dress myself when you call me. My
hair must be braided in many braids, and the strings are not yet sewed
to my mocassins. You too are tired; let us go in and sleep."
Sleep came to the mother--to the daughter courage and energy. Not in
vain had she prayed to Haokah the Giant, to give her power to perform a
great deed. Assured that her parents were sleeping heavily, she rose and
sought the lodge of the medicine man.
When she reached the teepee, she stopped involuntarily before the door,
near which hung, on a pole, the medicine bag of the old man. The
medicine known only to the clan had been preserved for ages. Sacred had
it ever been from the touch of woman. It was placed there to guard the
medicine man from evil, and to bring punishment on those who sought to
do him harm. Harpstenah's strength failed her. What was she about to do?
Could she provoke with impunity the anger of the spirits of the dead?
Would not the Great Spirit bring terrible vengeance upon her head. Ready
to sink to the earth with terror, the words of the fairy of the waters
reassured her. "Can a Dahcotah woman want courage when she is to be
forced to marry a man she hates?"
The tumult within is stilled--the strong beating of her heart has
ceased--her hand is upon the handle of her knife, as the moonlight falls
upon its glittering blade.
Too glorious a night for so dark a deed! See! they are confronted, the
old man and the maiden! The tyrant and his victim; the slave dealer and
the noble soul he had trafficked for!
Pale, but firm with high resolve, the girl looked for one moment at the
man she had feared--whose looks had checked her childish mirth, whose
anger she had been taught to dread, even to the sacrificing of her
heart's best hopes.
Restlessly the old man slept; perchance he saw the piercing eyes that
were, fixed upon him, for he muttered of the road to the land of
spirits. Listen to him, as he boasts of the warrior's work.
"Many brave men have made this road. The friend of the Thunder Birds was
worthy. Strike the woman who would dare assist a warrior. Strike--"
"Deep in his heart she plunged the ready steel," and she drew it out,
the life blood came quickly. She alone heard his dying groan.
She left the teepee--her work was done. It was easy to wash the stains
on her knife in the waters of the lake.
When her mother arose, she looked at the pale countenance of her
daughter. In vain she sought to understand her muttered words.
Harpstenah, as she tried to sleep, fancied she heard the wild laugh of
the water spirits. Clouds had obscured the moon, and distant thunder
rolled along the sky; and, roused by the clamorous grief of the many
women assembled in the lodge, she heard from them of the dark tragedy in
which she had been the principal actor.
The murderer was not to be found. Red Deer was known to be far away. It
only remained to bury Cloudy Sky, with all the honors due to a
medicine man.
Harpstenah joined in the weeping of the mourners--the fountains of a
Sioux woman's tears are easily unlocked. She threw her blanket upon the
dead body.
Many were the rich presents made to the inanimate clay which yesterday
influenced those who still trembled lest the spirit of the dead
war-chief would haunt them. The richest cloth enrobed his body, and, a
short distance from the village, he was placed upon a scaffold.
Food was placed beside him; it would be long before his soul would reach
the city of spirits; his strength would fail him, were it not for the
refreshment of the tender flesh of the wild deer he had loved to chase,
and the cooling waters he had drank on earth, for many, many winters.
But after the death of Cloudy Sky, the heart of Harpstenah grew light.
She joined again in the ball plays on the prairies. It needed no
vermilion on her cheek to show the brightness of her eye, for the flush
of hope and happiness was there.
The dark deed was forgotten; and when, in the time that the leaves began
to fall, they prepared the wild rice for winter's use, Red Deer was
at her side.
He was a good hunter, and the parents were old. Red Deer ever kept them
supplied with game--and winter found her a wife, and a happy one too;
for Red Deer loved her in very truth--and the secret of the death of the
medicine man was buried in their hearts.
CHAPTER VI.
Ten years had passed away since their marriage, and Red Deer had never
brought another wife to his teepee. Harpstenah was without a rival in
his affections, if we except the three strong boys who were growing up
beside them.
Chaske (the oldest son) could hunt for his mother, and it was well that
he could, for his father's strength was gone. Consumption wasted his
limbs, and the once powerful arm could not now support his
drooping head.
The father and mother had followed Cloudy Sky to the world of spirits;
they were both anxious to depart from earth, for age had made them
feeble, and the hardships of ninety years made them eager to have their
strength renewed, in the country where their ancestors were still in the
vigor of early youth. The band at Lake Calhoun were going on a hunt for
porcupines; a long hunt, and Harpstenah tried to deter her husband from
attempting the journey; but he thought the animating exercise of the
chase would be a restorative to his feeble frame, and they set out
with the rest.
When the hunters had obtained a large number of those valued animals,
the women struck their teepees and prepared for their return.
Harpstenah's lodge alone remained, for in it lay the dying man--by his
side his patient wife. The play of the children had ceased--they watched
with silent awe the pale face and bright eye of their father--they heard
him charge their mother to place food that his soul might be refreshed
on its long journey. Not a tear dimmed her eye as she promised all
he asked.