Dahcotah - Mary Eastman
"I thought," said the chief, "that some calamity was going to happen to
me" (for, being more composed, he began to talk to the other Indians who
sat with him in his teepee, somewhat after the manner and in the spirit
of Job's friends). "I saw Unk-a-tahe, the great fish of the water, and
it showed its horns; and we know that that is always a sign of trouble."
"Ho!" replied an old medicine man, "I remember when Unk-a-tahe got in
under the falls" (of St. Anthony) "and broke up the ice. The large
pieces of ice went swiftly down, and the water forced its way until it
was frightful to see it. The trees near the shore were thrown down, and
the small islands were left bare. Near Fort Snelling there was a house
where a white man and his wife lived. The woman heard the noise, and,
waking her husband, ran out; but as he did not follow her quick enough,
the house was soon afloat and he was drowned."
There was an Indian camp near this house, for the body of Wenona, the
sick girl who was carried over the Falls, was found here. It was placed
on a scaffold on the shore, near where the Indians found her, and
Checkered Cloud moved her teepee, to be near her daughter. Several other
Dahcotah families were also near her.
But what was their fright when they heard the ice breaking, and the
waters roaring as they carried everything before them? The father of
Wenona clung to his daughter's scaffold, and no entreaties of his wife
or others could induce him to leave.
"Unk-a-tahe has done this," cried the old man, "and I care not. He
carried my sick daughter under the waters, and he may bury me there
too." And while the others fled from the power of Unk-a-tahe, the father
and mother clung to the scaffold of their daughter.
They were saved, and they lived by the body of Wenona until they buried
her. "The power of Unk-a-tahe is great!" so spoke the medicine man, and
Shah-co-pee almost forgot his loss in the fear and admiration of this
monster of the deep, this terror of the Dahcotahs.
He will do well to forget the young wife altogether; for she is far
away, making mocassins for the man she loves. She rejoices at her escape
from the old man, and his two wives; while he is always making speeches
to his men, commencing by saying he is a great chief, and ending with
the assertion that Red Stone should have respected his old age, and not
have stolen from him the only wife he loved.
CHAPTER IV.
Shah-co-pee came, a few days ago, with twenty other warriors, some of
them chiefs, on a visit to the commanding officer of Fort Snelling.
The Dahcotahs had heard that the Winnebagoes were about to be removed,
and that they were to pass through their hunting grounds on their way to
their future homes. They did not approve of this arrangement. Last
summer the Dahcotahs took some scalps of the Winnebagoes, and it was
decided at Washington that the Dahcotahs should pay four thousand
dollars of their annuities as an atonement for the act. This caused much
suffering among the Dahcotahs; fever was making great havoc among them,
and to deprive them of their flour and other articles of food was only
enfeebling their constitutions, and rendering them an easy prey for
disease. The Dahcotahs thought this very hard at the time; they have not
forgotten the circumstance, and they think that they ought to be
consulted before their lands are made a thoroughfare by their enemies.
They accordingly assembled, and, accompanied by the Indian agent and the
interpreter, came to Fort Snelling to make their complaint. When they
were all seated, (all on the floor but one, who looked most
uncomfortable, mounted on a high chair), the agent introduced the
subject, and it was discussed for a while; the Dahcotahs paying the most
profound attention, although they could not understand a word of what
was passing; and when there was a few moments' silence, the chiefs rose
each in his turn to protest against the Winnebagoes passing through
their country. They all spoke sensibly and well; and when one finished,
the others all intimated their approval by crying "Ho!" as a kind of
chorus. After a while Shah-co-pee rose; his manner said "I am Sir
Oracle." He shook hands with the commanding officer, with the agent and
interpreter, and then with some strangers who were visiting the fort.
His attitude was perfectly erect as he addressed the officer.
"We are the children of our great Father, the President of the United
States; look upon us, for we are your children too. You are placed here
to see that the Dahcotahs are protected, that their rights are not
infringed upon."
While the Indians cried Ho! ho! with great emphasis, Shah-co-pee shook
hands all round again, and then resumed his place and speech.
"Once this country all belonged to the Dahcotahs. Where had the white
man a place to call his own on our prairies? He could not even pass
through our country without our permission!
"Our great Father has signified to us that he wants our lands. We have
sold some of them to him, and we are content to do so, but he has
promised to protect us, to be a friend to us, to take care of us as a
father does of his children.
"When the white man wishes to visit us, we open the door of our country
to him; we treat him with hospitality. He looks at our rocks, our river,
our trees, and we do not disturb him. The Dahcotah and the white man
are friends.
"But the Winnebagoes are not our friends, we suffered for them not long
ago; our children wanted food; our wives were sick; they could not plant
corn or gather the Indian potato. Many of our nation died; their bodies
are now resting on their scaffolds. The night birds clap their wings as
the winds howl over them!
"And we are told that our great Father will let the Winnebagoes make a
path through our hunting grounds: they will subsist upon our game; every
bird or animal they kill will be a loss to us.
"The Dahcotah's lands are not free to others. If our great Father wishes
to make any use of our lands, he should pay us. We object to the
Winnebagoes passing through our country; but if it is too late to
prevent this, then we demand a thousand dollars for every village they
shall pass."
Ho! cried the Indians again; and Shah-co-pee, after shaking hands once
more, took his seat.
I doubt if you will ever get the thousand dollars a village,
Shah-co-pee; but I like the spirit that induces you to demand it. May
you live long to make speeches and beg bread--the unrivalled orator and
most notorious beggar of the Dahcotahs!
OYE-KAR-MANI-VIM;
THE TRACK-MAKER.
CHAPTER I.
It was in the summer of 183-, that a large party of Chippeways visited
Fort Snelling. There was peace between them and the Sioux. Their time
was passed in feasting and carousing; their canoes together flew over
the waters of the Mississippi. The young Sioux warriors found strange
beauty in the oval faces of the Chippeway girls; and the Chippeways
discovered (what was actually the case) that the women of the Dahcotahs
were far more graceful than those of their own nation.
But as the time of the departure of the Chippeways approached, many a
Chippeway maiden wept when she remembered how soon she would bid adieu
to all her hopes of happiness. And Flying Shadow was saddest of them
all. She would gladly have given up everything for her lover. What were
home and friends to her who loved with all the devotion of a heart
untrammeled by forms, fresh from the hand of nature? She listened to his
flute in the still evening, as if her spirit would forsake her when she
heard it no more. She would sit with him on the bluff which hung over
the Mississippi, and envy the very waters which would remain near him,
when she was far away. But her lover loved his nation even more than he
did her; and though he would have died to have saved her from sorrow,
yet he knew she could never be his wife. Even were he to marry her, her
life would ever be in danger. A Chippeway could not long find a home
among the Dahcotahs.
The Track-maker bitterly regretted that they had ever met, when he saw
her grief at the prospect of parting. "Let us go," he said, "to the
Falls, where I will tell you the story you asked me."
The Track-maker entered the canoe first, and the girl followed; and so
pleasant was the task of paddling her lover over the quiet waters, that
it seemed but a moment before they were in sight of the torrent.
"It was there," said the Sioux, "that Wenona and her child found their
graves. Her husband, accompanied by some other Dahcotahs, had gone some
distance above the falls to hunt. While there, he fell in love with a
young girl whom he thought more beautiful than his wife. Wenona knew
that she must no longer hope to be loved as she had been.
"The Dahcotahs killed much game, and then broke up their camp and
started for their homes. When they reached the falls, the women got
ready to carry their canoes and baggage round.
"But Wenona was going on a longer journey. She would not live when her
husband loved her no more, and, putting her son in her canoe, she soon
reached the island that divides the falls.
"Then she put on all her ornaments, as if she were a bride; she dressed
her boy too, as a Dahcotah warrior; she turned to look once more at her
husband, who was helping his second wife to put the things she was to
carry, on her back.
"Soon her husband called to her; she did not answer him, but placed her
child high up in the canoe, so that his father could see him, and
getting in herself she paddled towards the rapids.
"Her husband saw that Unk-tahe would destroy her, and he called to her
to come ashore. But he might have called to the roaring waters as well,
and they would have heeded him as soon as she.
"Still he ran along the shore with his arms uplifted, entreating her to
come ashore.
"Wenona continued her course towards the rapids--her voice was heard
above the waters as she sang her death song. Soon the mother and child
were seen no more--the waters covered them.
"But her spirit wanders near this place. An elk and fawn are often seen,
and we know they are Wenona and her child."
"Do you love me as Wenona loved?" continued the Sioux, as he met the
looks of the young girl bent upon him.
"I will not live when I see you no more," she replied. "As the flowers
die when the winter's cold falls upon them, so will my spirit depart
when I no longer listen to your voice. But when I go to the land of
spirits I shall be happy. My spirit will return to earth; but it will be
always near you."
Little didst thou dream that the fate of Wenona would be less sad than
thine. She found the death she sought, in the waters whose bosom opened
to receive her. But thou wilt bid adieu to earth in the midst of the
battle--in the very presence of him, for whose love thou wouldst venture
all. Thy spirit will flee trembling from the shrieks of the dying
mother, the suffering child. Death will come to thee as a terror, not
as a refuge.
CHAPTER II.
When the Chippeways broke up their camp near Fort Snelling, they divided
into two parties, one party returning home by the Mississippi, the other
by way of the St. Croix.
They parted on the most friendly terms with the Sioux, giving presents,
and receiving them in return.
Some pillagers, who acknowledge no control, had accompanied the
Chippeways. These pillagers are in fact highwaymen or privateers--having
no laws, and acting from the impulses of their own fierce hearts.
After the Chippeways had left, the pillagers concealed themselves in a
path near Lake Calhoun. This lake is about seven miles from
Fort Snelling.
Before they had been concealed one hour, two Dahcotahs passed, father
and son. The pillagers fired, and the father was killed instantly; but
the son escaped, and made his way home in safety. The boy entered the
village calling for his mother, to tell her the sad news; her cries of
grief gave the alarm, and soon the death of the Sioux was known
throughout the village. The news flew from village to village on the
wings of the wind; Indian runners were seen in every direction, and in
twenty-four hours there were three hundred warriors on foot in pursuit
of the Chippeways.
Every preparation was made for the death-strife. Not a Sioux warrior but
vowed he would with his own arm avenge the death of his friend. The very
tears of the wife were dried when the hope of vengeance cheered
her heart.
The Track-maker was famous as a warrior. Already did the aged Dahcotahs
listen to his words; for he was both wise and brave. He was among the
foremost to lead the Dahcotahs against the Chippeways; and though he
longed to raise his tomahawk against his foes, his spirit sunk within
him when he remembered the girl he loved. What will be her fate! Oh!
that he had never seen her. But it was no time to think of her. Duty
called upon him to avenge the death of his friend.
CHAPTER III.
Woe to the unsuspecting Chippeways! ignorant of the murder that had been
committed, they were leisurely turning their steps homeward, while the
pillagers made their escape with the scalp of the Dahcotah.
The Sioux travelled one day and night before they came up with the
Chippeways. Nothing could quench their thirst but blood. And the women
and children must suffer first. The savage suffers a twofold death;
before his own turn comes, his young children lie breathless around
him, their mother all unconscious by their side.
The Chippeways continued their journey, fearing nothing. They had camped
between the falls of St. Anthony and Rum river; they were refreshed, and
the men proceeded first, leaving their women and children to follow.
They were all looking forward with pleasure to seeing their homes again.
The women went leisurely along; the infant slept quietly--what should it
fear close to its mother's heart! The young children laughed as they hid
themselves behind the forest trees, and then emerged suddenly to
frighten the others. The Chippeway maidens rejoiced when they remembered
that their rivals, the Dahcotah girls, would no longer seduce their
lovers from their allegiance.
Flying Shadow wept, there was nothing to make her happy, she would see
the Track-maker no more, and she looked forward to death as the end of
her cares. She concealed in her bosom the trinkets he had given her;
every feature of his face was written on her heart--that heart that beat
only for him, that so soon would cease to beat at all!
But there was a fearful cry, that banished even him from her thoughts.
The war-whoop burst suddenly upon the defenceless women.
Hundreds of Dahcotah warriors rose up to blind the eyes of the
terror-stricken mothers. Their children are scalped before their eyes;
their infants are dashed against the rocks, which are not more
insensible to their cries than their murderers.
It is a battle of strength against weakness. Stern warrior, it needs
not to strike the mother that blow! she dies in the death of her
children. [Footnote: The Dahcotahs believe, or many of them believe,
that each body has four souls. One wanders about the earth and requires
food; a second watches over the body; the third hovers round its native
village, while the fourth goes to the land of spirits.]
The maidens clasp their small hands--a vain appeal to the merciless
wretches, who see neither beauty nor grace, when rage and revenge are in
their hearts. It is blood they thirst for, and the young and innocent
fall like grass before the mower.
Flying Shadow sees her lover! he is advancing towards her! What does his
countenance say? There is sadness in his face, and she hopes--aye, more
than hopes--she knows he will save her. With all a woman's trust she
throws herself in his arms. "Save me! save me!" she cries; "do not let
them slay me before your eyes; make me your prisoner! [Footnote: When
the Sioux are tired of killing, they sometimes take their victims
prisoners, and, generally speaking, treat them with great kindness.] you
said that you loved me, spare my life!"
Who shall tell his agony? For a moment he thought he would make her his
prisoner. Another moment's reflection convinced him that that would be
of no avail. He knew that she must die, but he could not take her life.
Her eyes were trustingly turned upon him; her soft hand grasped his arm.
But the Sioux warriors were pressing upon them, he gave her one more
look, he touched her with his spear, [Footnote: When a Dahcotah touches
an enemy with his spear, he is privileged to wear a feather of honor, as
if he had taken a scalp.] and he was gone.
And Flying Shadow was dead. She felt not the blow that sent her reeling
to the earth. Her lover had forsaken her in the hour of danger, and what
could she feel after that?
The scalp was torn from her head by one of those who had most admired
her beauty; and her body was trampled upon by the very warriors who had
so envied her lover.
The shrieks of the dying women reached the ears of their husbands and
brothers. Quickly did they retrace their steps, and when they reached
the spot, they bravely stood their ground; but the Dahcotahs were too
powerful for them,--terrible was the struggle!
The Dahcotahs continued the slaughter, and the Chippeways were obliged
at last to give way. One of the Chippeways seized his frightened child
and placed him upon his back. His wife lay dead at his feet; with his
child clinging to him, he fought his way through.
Two of the Dahcotahs followed him, for he was flying fast; and they
feared he would soon be out of their power. They thought, as they nearly
came up to him, that he would loose his hold on his child; but the
father's heart was strong within him. He flies, and the Sioux are close
upon his heels! He fires and kills one of them. The other Sioux follows:
he has nothing to encumber him--he must be victor in such an unequal
contest. But the love that was stronger than death nerved the father's
arm. He kept firing, and the Sioux retreated. The Chippeway and his
young son reached their home in safety, there to mourn the loss of
others whom they loved.
The sun set upon a bloody field; the young and old lay piled together;
the hearts that had welcomed the breaking of the day were all
unconscious of its close.
The Sioux were avenged; and the scalps that they brought home (nearly
one hundred when the party joined them from the massacre at Saint Croix)
bore witness to their triumph.
The other party of Sioux followed the Chippeways who had gone by way of
the St. Croix. While the Chippeways slept, the war-cry of the Sioux
aroused them. And though they fought bravely, they suffered as did their
friends, and the darkness of night added terror to the scene.
The Dahcotahs returned with the scalps to their villages, and as they
entered triumphantly, they were greeted with shouts of applause. The
scalps were divided among the villages, and joyful preparations were
made to celebrate the scalp-dance.
The scalps were stretched upon hoops, and covered with vermilion,
ornamented with feathers, ribbons and trinkets.
On the women's scalps were hung a comb, or a pair of scissors, and for
months did the Dahcotah women dance around them. The men wore mourning
for their enemies, as is the custom among the Dahcotahs.
When the dancing was done, the scalps were buried with the deceased
relatives of the Sioux who took them.
And this is Indian, but what is Christian warfare? The wife of the hero
lives to realize her wretchedness; the honors paid by his countrymen are
a poor recompense for the loss of his love and protection. The life of
the child too, is safe, but who will lead him in the paths of virtue,
when his mother has gone down to the grave.
Let us not hear of civilized warfare! It is all the work of the spirits
of evil. God did not make man to slay his brother, and the savage alone
can present an excuse. The Dahcotah dreams not that it is wrong to
resent an injury to the death; but the Christian knows that God has
said, Vengeance is mine!
CHAPTER IV.
The Track-maker had added to his fame. He had taken many scalps, and the
Dahcotah maidens welcomed him as a hero--as one who would no longer
refuse to acknowledge the power of their charms. They asked him eagerly
of the fight--whom he had killed first--but they derived but little
satisfaction from his replies. They found he resisted their advances,
and they left him to his gloomy thoughts.
Every scene he looked upon added to his grief. Memory clung to him,
recalling every word and look of Flying Shadow. But, that last look,
could he ever forget it?
He tried to console himself with the thoughts of his triumph. Alas! her
smile was sweeter than the recollection of revenge. He had waded in the
blood of his enemies; he had trampled upon the hearts of the men he
hated; but he had broken the heart of the only woman he had ever loved.
In the silence of the night her death-cry sounded in his ear; and he
would start as if to flee from the sound. In his dreams he saw again
that trustful face, that look of appeal--and then the face of stone,
when she saw that she had appealed in vain.
He followed the chase, but there he could not forget the battle scene.
"Save me! save me!" forever whispered every forest leaf, or every
flowing wave. Often did he hear her calling him, and he would stay his
steps as if he hoped to meet her smile.
The medicine men offered to cure his disease; but he knew that it was
beyond their art, and he cared not how soon death came, nor in
what form.
He met the fate he sought. A war party was formed among the Dahcotahs to
seek more scalps, more revenge. But the Track-maker was weary of glory.
He went with the party, and never returned. Like _her_, he died in
battle; but the death that she sought to avert, was a welcome messenger
to him. He felt that in the grave all would be forgotten.
ETA KEAZAH;
OR,
SULLEN FACE.
* * * * *
Wenona was the light of her father's wigwam--the pride of the band of
Sissetons, whose village is on the shores of beautiful Lake Travers.
However cheerfully the fire might burn in the dwelling of the aged
chief, there was darkness, for him when she was away--and the mother's
heart was always filled with anxiety, for she knew that Wenona had drawn
upon her the envy of her young companions, and she feared that some one
of them would cast a spell [Footnote: The Indians fear that from envy or
jealousy some person may cast a fatal spell upon them to produce
sickness, or even death. This superstition seems almost identical with
the Obi or Obeat of the West India negroes.] upon her child, that her
loveliness might be dimmed by sorrow or sickness.
The warriors of the band strove to outdo each other in noble deeds, that
they might feel more worthy to claim her hand;--while the hunters tried
to win her good will by presents of buffalo and deer. But Wenona thought
not yet of love. The clear stream that reflected her form told her she
was beautiful; yet her brother was the bravest warrior of the Sissetons;
and her aged parents too--was not their love enough to satisfy her
heart! Never did brother and sister love each other more; their
features were the same, yet man's sternness in him was changed to
woman's softness in her. The "glance of the falcon" in his eye was the
"gaze of the dove" in hers. But at times the expression of his face
would make you wonder that you ever could have thought him like his
twin sister.
When he heard the Sisseton braves talk of the hunts they had in their
youth, before the white man drove them from the hunting-grounds of their
forefathers;--when instead of the blanket they wore the buffalo
robe;--when happiness and plenty were in their wigwams--and when the
voices of weak women and famished children were never heard calling for
food in vain--then the longing for vengeance that was written on his
countenance, the imprecations that were breathed from his lips, the
angry scowl, the lightning from his eye, all made him unlike indeed to
his sister, the pride of the Sissetons!
When the gentle breeze would play among the prairie flowers, then would
she win him from such bitter thoughts. "Come, my brother, we will go and
sit by the banks of the lake, why should you be unhappy! the buffalo is
still to be found upon our hunting-grounds--the spirit of the lake
watches over us--we shall not want for food."
He would go, because she asked him. The quiet and beauty of nature were
not for him; rather would he have stood alone when the storm held its
sway; when the darkness was only relieved by the flash that laid the
tall trees of the forest low; when the thunder bird clapped her wings as
she swept through the clouds above him. But could he refuse to be happy
when Wenona smiled? Alas! that her gentle spirit should not always have
been near to soften his!
But as the beauty and warmth of summer passed away, so did Wenona's
strength begin to fail; the autumn wind, that swept rudely over the
prairie flowers, so that they could not lift their heads above the tall
grass, seemed to pass in anger over the wigwam of the old man--for the
eye of the Dahcotah maiden was losing its brightness, and her step was
less firm, as she wandered with her brother in her native woods. Vainly
did the medicine men practice their cherished rites--the Great Spirit
had called--and who could refuse to hear his voice? she faded with the
leaves--and the cries of the mourners were answered by the wailing
winds, as they sang her requiem.