IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

i<'^

<o '""^P

^ w:/.
"''/,

1.0

I.I

" IllM IIIIM

;; lU |||m
■ m mil 2.0

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

*« 6"

►

5^y

//^

'^r

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

9)^

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. I4S80

(716) 872-4503

fe' €^.

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques

1980

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6td possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m^thode normale de filmage
sont indiqu6s ci-dessous.

D
D
D
D
D
D

n
n

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommag^e

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculde

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes g^ographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en ouleur

Bound with other material/
Relid avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge int6rieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 film^es.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl^mentaires:

□ Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

□ Pages damaged/
Pages endommagdes

□

D
D

n
□

Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaurdes et/ou pellicul6es

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages ddcolor^es, tachetdes ou piqu^es

Pages detached/
Pages ddtach^es

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of print varies/
Quality indgale de I'impression

Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du material supplementaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6X6 filmdes d nouveau de fapon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

I T/This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

1 \^ Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

ifier

ige

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

National Library of Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

L'exemp'aire filmd fut reproduit grdce d la
g^ndrositd de:

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada

Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettet^ de I'exemplaire filmd, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copif are filmed beginning on the
first page with a pr ,-ited or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol —^- (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprim^e sont film6s en commengant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmds en commengant par la
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole —^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbole V signifie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Stre
filmds d des taux de reduction diff^rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour etre
reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film^ d partir
de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

ata

ilure.

I2X

THE STORY
OF THE INDIAN

iiv

GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL

AUTHOR OF PAWNHE HKKO STOKIKS AND POLK TALIiS,
BLACKFOOr LODGE TALES, ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1895

COPYRIOHT, 1895,

By D. APl'LETON AND COMPANY.

EDITOR'S NOTE.

The books wliicli are to jijipear in tliis series; are
intended to i)resent peenliar and characteristic phases
of earlier development in that portion of our coun-
try which lies beyond the Missouri Kiver. The spe-
c^-xlization of American histoiy has found expression
in numerous studies of the colonial life of New Enjr-
land, New York, and Virginia, indeed, all the Eastern
seaboard, and in discussions of explorations westvAard
like those of the Spaniards to the south and the
French to the north, and of migrations away from
the seaboard, like the movement across the Blue Ridge
to Kentucky, and the various patriarchal journeyings
which began the settlement of Ohio and the middle
West. The final occupation of the real West has come
about almost in our own time. The first white male
child born in Kansas is an honoured resident of the State
to-day, and Kansas is venerable in comparison with
States and Territories beyond. Speaking roughly, the
Missouri divides sections very dissimilar in certain
characteristics of their evolution. It is not a question
of political differences, like those which have sundered
Kansas and Missouri, but of differences due to the
strength of the Indian holding, the character of a soil
fitted throughout vast areas for grazing rather than
cultivation, and the presence of stores of treasure in

KDITOll'S NOTK.

two niiglity moiuitain systems, wliicli liavo drawn into
their recesses tlie trii|.[>er antl tiic hunter us well as
the i)r()spector. For our real West, therefore, tlio
typical li<,aircs arc the Indiau, the explorer, the sol-
dier, the miner, the ranchnuiu, the tra})per, if we take
iuto consideration the northern fur trade, and the
railroad builder. The re])resentative explorer may bo
found in Lewis and Clarke, or I'ike or Fremont, or
that more remote and romantic Argonaut, Coronado.
The soldier has never received a tithe of justice for
the heroism of his lonely and perilous service on the
plains. The miner's kaleidoscopic career, ranging
from the grub-staked prospector to the millionaire
gambling on the stock exchange with loaded dice, has
been too obvious to be neglected in the past, and the
comi)lete story, as illustrated "on the Comstock," will
be unfolded by Mr. KShinn. AVith these figures the
AVest has oiTered us the cowboy, that most individual
and picturesque of types, and, following tiie soldier
and oftentimes preceding settlement, the railroad
builder. 'I'lie hitter's perilous reconnaissances, stormy
life in the construction camps, and warfare with
Indians, thugs, and sometimes with rival builders,
deserve well of the historian who cares for human in-
terest and not merely for the engineering diflticulties
overcome, and the financial results. There are other
types, like the one afforded by the noble figure of
Father Junipero Serra and by the hunter, the pony
express rider, the road agent, and later the men of
the wheat and fruit ranches, and the irrigating
ditch, and those curious children of Islimael, the
" boomer " and " sooner." But if we take the phases
typified in the figures which I have emphasized it
is plain that the series of pictures will be Individ-

EDITOR'S NOTE.

iial, nicy of tlic Western soil in tlie truest sense,
und also of permanent historical value, since they
will preserve in delinite form these picturesque and
original aspects of Western development of which
we are ai)t to catch only distorted and fleeting
glimpses. This is the object of a series planned
through the editor's knowledge of the real West, a
knowledge gained by actual ex])eriences of ranch and
mining and Indian life between Sonora and Van-
couver and Texas and Dakota, and also through a
love for the types illustrated, a desire to record their
characteristics before they have entirely vanished, and
a hearty belief in what 1 may term their pictorial
value for the historian.

There is no word simpler and more elastic than the
word story to describe the plan of the series, and al-
though we shall deal with the realities of liistory, the
liumbler term seems more broadly significant. These
books are intended to be stories of human interest, not
categories of facts. Air. (jirinnell, for example, might
have written a history of the Indian tribes west of the
]\Iissouri, which would have been onlv a valuable re-
pository of facts. But, instead of this, Mr. Crinnell
takes us directly to the camp fire and the council. He
shows ns the Indian as a man subject to like passions
and infirmities with ourselves. He shows ns how the
Indian wooed and fought, how he hunted aiid prayed,
how he ate and slept — in short, we are admitted to
the real life of the red man, and as we learn to know
him we discard two familiar images : the red man of
the would-be philanthropic sentimentalist, and the
raw-head-and-bloody-bones figure that has whooped
through so many pages of fiction. A typical explorer
and a typical mine will be the subjects of volumes

Vlll

KDlTUlfS NoTi:.

closely following this. In cacli case tho clTort will ho
to embody tho t'sscntijil IVatiiivs of the general theme
in one de&cri])tive history with one central point of
interest, thus forming a series free from cumbersome
details, but breathing the spirit and preserving the
cpudities of reality. Since the subjects form a })art of
our hit'.ory tliey will bo treated with a view to the his-
torical student's denumd for exactness of statement
and souiulncss of inference, and since these stories
illustrate a most ronumtic phase of our ])ast, the ele-
ments of colour and atmosphere and quick human
interest are insei)arable from the treatment. Either
older or younger readers who care to live over again
certain wholly individual phases of our country's his-
tory may, it is lioped, draw from these volumes some
such sense of the reality of romantic liistory as Park-
man lias left us in his pictures of the earlier phases of
Canadian life and history, in his Oregon Trail and his
Discovery of the Great West.

iXTijonrcTioy

Tins volume nii^ht be eiilled one of recollections,
for in it luive been set down niany memories of Indian
life. I'he scenes described I have witnessed with my
own eyes; the stories related are tliose which have
been told me by the Indians themselves.

These stories are introduced freely l)ecausc the con-
crete example conveys a clearer idea of an event than
an abstract statement, and because the story of the
Indian should not be told wholly from the point of
view of a race alien in thought, feeling, and culture.
No narrative about any peo])le can do them justice if
written by one who is not in some degree in sympathy
with them, and acquainted with their ways of thought
and with the motives which govern them. Before an
intelligent account of it can be given, the stranger race
jnust be comprehended. Long association with Indi-
ans enables a white man ultimately to share their
thought and feelings ; and he who has reached this
point nnderstands the Indian. He understands that
the red man is a savage and has savage qualities, yet
he sees also that the most impressive characteristic of
the Indian is his humanity. For in his simplicity, his
vanity, his sensitiveness to ridicule, his desire for re-
venge, and his fear of the supernatural, he is a child
and acts like one.

INTUODICTKlV.

\Vo .'ire too ft{)t to forgot that tlicsc poojilc arc liu-
nmn like oursi'lvi's; that thoy are fathers and niolliers,
Inishaiuls and wives, brothers and sisters ; men and
women with emotions and ])assions like our own, even
ti»oii<^h these feelings aro not well regnlated and di-
rected in the ealin, smoothly flowing channels of civil-
ized life. Kot until wo recognise this common hu-
manity may we attain the broader view and the wider
sym])athy which shall give us a true comprehension of
the character of the Indian.

'J'he })resent volume professes to give only a general
view of Indian life, and many interesting toi>ics have
necessarily been referred to only incidentally. In t!io
stories given 1 have followed the language of the in-
ter[)reters through whom 1 received their narratives
directly from the Indians.

Mr. James Mooney, of the Bureau of Kthnology,
has very kindly read the chapter on the ^.'orth Ameri-
cans, on which he nuule a number of valuable sugges-
tions, and for which he furnished most of the transla-
tions of the tribal names. My friend Mr. Charles H.
lieynolds has read over the whole manuscript, and the
form of the book owes much to his kindly criticisms.
To both these gentlemen my acknowledgements aro
due.

CONTENTS.

ciiaptkh

I.— Ills rioME
II. — RlX'KKATroNS .
III.— A MARRIACiK .
IV. — Sl'HSISTKXCK .

v.— His JIlntixu .
VI.-TuE War Trail
VI [.—Fortunes of War
VIII.— Prairie Battlefields .
IX.— Implements and Industries .
X.— Man and Nature ....

XI. — Ills Creation

^^^- — 'J'he World of the Dead
XIII.— Pawnee Kelumon ....
XIV.— The Old Faith and the New
^V.— The Coming of the White Man .

Appendix.— The Xortii Americans — Yesti
To-day

Index .

DA V

AND

PAOB

101

125

14;j

iCa

183
105
203
314
234

341
2Gl>

HH-

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Till: Distant Camp ,

Pawnee Woman Dressing a IIiue .

Pawnee Woman and Child

PiEGAN Women and Children .

Indian Village, Knight's Inlet, British

SHOWING Totem Poles ....
I5lacki'o<)t Ijodges .....

Sioux Chief

Crooked Hand, a Pawnee Brave .

PlEGAN TrAVOIS

Quatsen.\ Village, West Coast Vancoivkr I
Cree Lodge and Red River Cart .

Pawnee Dirt Lodge

Group oe Sapalelle la Tltes, West Coas

VER Island

Painted Lodge Skin

Navajo Weaver

Group of Assiniboines ....

FAriNO

PAGE

frontispiece

Columbia,

104

125

loO

SLANl)

103

170

103

T Vancou-

214

244

254

200

I^HB

TlIK STOPvY OF THE LXDIAN.

CHAPTER I.

HIS HOME.

Yi: i.i.ow im(]cr the burning suii lies tlie far-streteh-
ing i)raii-i('. Jn o!ie direction the rounded swells rise
and fall like the heaving breast of ocean after a storm
lias passed ; in atiother, the ragged ravine-seamed soil
rears sharp crests like billows tossed by the storm in
fury. In the distance the level sweep of the horizon
is broken by high buttes, some square-topped and
vertical-sided, others slender and sharp-pointed— like
huge fortix-sses or cathedral spires. All are dotted
here and there with gnarled, stunted black pines and
cedars, that, with tenacious grip, cling to the bare
rocks from which they draw a sustenance — scanty, vet
sufficient.

Scattered over the })rairie far and near are the
wild denizens of this land : brown buffalo feeding
or resting, yellow antelope singly or in groups, a fam-
ily of wolves playing at the mouth of a ravine, prairie
dogs in their towns, little birds swinging on the tops
of the sage bushes, and over all a blue arch in which
swings motionless a broad-winged eagle.

Away to the westward, so far that the forest-clad

mammamm

Till-: STORV OF Till-: INDIAN.

footliills aro purple witli distimcc aiul tlic roiigli rock
slopes gniy with luize, staiuls the mighty wall of the
Continental Divide. White and grey and hrown, snow
fields and rock peaks, and high naked plateaus rear
rough outlines against the hlue of tlie summer sky, or
are blotted out mile by mile when black storm clouds
creep down from the j)eaks toward the 2)lains, which
the summer storms never reach.

This is the country of the Indian of the West.

Here the prairie is split by a great crooked gash —
a river's course — to which the ravines all run. Down
in the valley the silvery leaves of cottonwood tremble,
copses of willow and bits of fresh growing grass stand
along the stream, and there is the shimmer of flowing
water, coolness, and shade. This is the Indian's home.

The cone-shaped dwellings stand in a rough circle
which touches the river bank. Some of the lodges are
newly made, clean, and white ; others are patched,
grey with weather stain, and smoke browned near the
top. Each conical home terminates in a sheaf of cross-
ing lodge poles, and between the extended " ears "
shows a wide dark opening from which rise curling
wreaths of blue smoke. Some of the lodges are painted
in gay colours with odd angular figures of men, and
animals, and guns, and camp fires, which tell in red,
black, or green of the coups of the owner — his brave
deeds or strange adventures. Here and there from
the lodge poles of some leading man hangs a bufTalo
tail, or one or two eagle feathers are turning in the
breeze, or a string of little hoof sheaths, which rattle
as they are shaken in the wind, runs from the lodge
poles nearly to the ground.

Leaning against the lodges, and, if standing on
end, quite equalling the lodge poles in height, are the

HIS IIUMK.

on
the

tnivois, tlic universal vehiclo. Ik'fore or bt'liind tlie
lodges of meilicino men, cliiefs, iind noted braves hung
the inedieiiio ))uiidles of the doetors and })riests,
and the arms and war dresses of the warriors. 'I'ri-
pods of slender poles support the sacks or bundles, or
s(»metimcs a lance is thrust iu the ground, and to it is
tied the warrior's equipment. The eagle featliers,
scalps, and fringes with which these things are orna-
mented, wave gaily in the breeze.

^'ear the stream bank, above and below the camp,
stand curious low frames, woven of willow branches,
and looking somewhat like large bird cages of wicker-
work. Some arc oval and others hemispherical, and in
the ground which forms their floor a little hollow is
dug out in the centre, in which are ashes and a num-
ber of stones which show the marks of fire, liesides
this, ou the ground outside each one, is a spot where
a little fire has been built, and near the fireplace are
other round stones. These are the sweat lodges of the
camp, wliere are taken the steam l)aths used in hcjd-
ing and in certain religious rites.

Up and down the stream valley, and scattered over
the bordering blutTs, are the horses, for the most part
wandering at will, though here and there a group is
herded by a boy or young man who spends most of his
time lying on the ground in the shade of his horse,
but now and then clambers on its back and gathers
together his little baiul or drives away others that
seem disposed to mingle with it. There are hun-
dreds — perhaps thousiinds — of horses in sight, dot-
ting the valley, the blutTs, aiul even the distant upper
plains.

Here and there on little elevations, on the points
of the bluffs or ou the river bank— usually on some
2

TIIR STORY OF THE iNDIAX.

ooinmiindhif^ cniincnoc — are single figures of men.
Closely \vra])ped in his robe or liis summer sheet, eacii
one renuiins apart from all the others, and sits or
stands for hours motionless. These men have left the
camp and retired to smdi places to be alone. Some of
them are praying ; some are acting as sentries, looking
over the country to see if enemies are a])proaching ;
some desire to tliink out their projects without fear
of interruption ; while it is possible that among the mo-
tionless figures may be one who belongs to some hostile
tribe and has ventured thus boldly to expose himself
in order to learn the ways of the camp, to find out how
the watchers are disposed, wb.cre the swiftest horses
fire kept, at what points an attack may be made with
best prospects of success. If such a s])y is here, he is
for the i)resent safe from detection. lie feels sure
that no one will approach him or speak to him, for
when a man goes oif in this way by himself it is un-
derstood by all that he wishes to be alone, and this
wish, is respected.

Within the circle of the camp the daily life of the
people is going on. Gloving forms, clad in bright
colours, })ass to aiul fro, and people are clustered in
the shade of the lodges. Tied near most of the doors
are one or two horses for immediate use. Now and
then the bark of a dog falls upon the ear, and above
the indistinct hum of camp life are heard the whoops
or shrieks of children at play.

Everywhere groups of men are seated in the shade,
smoking, cliattin.g, or sleeping. Some are naked, some
clad only in a blanket, but most wear leggings of deer
or cow skin and are wrapped in sheets of dressed cow
skin. Here with infinite care a young dandy is paint-
ing himself; there a man is sharpening arrowheads;

HIS HOME.

a third is iiieiuling a siuldle ; iiiiothor faslii()iiin<i; a
pipe stem.

VV'itiiuut the circle of tlic camp, otT toward the
bhitr, stands a group of men, some of them naked to
the breccli-clont, otiicrs, spectators, wra})})ed in tlieir
slicets or bhmkcts. At intervals two naked men are
seen to dart out from this group and race along, near-
ly side by side, throwing their sticks at some object
that rolls along in front of them. Often at the end
of such a ra(.'e there is a loud-voiced disj)ute as to
which contestant has won, in which the two racers
and their friends take part with violent gesticulations
and earnest speech. This is the stick or wheel game.

Down by one of the sweat lodges a wonum is kin-
dling lires and heating the stones in the centre of the
Iodide and outside. She covers the frame with robes
or skins, so as to keep the heat in. A bucket of water
stands near the fire. Soon half a dozen young men
come to the i)lacc, and, following them, an older man
who carries a pipe. As they reach the lodge, they
drop their blankets and creep naked beneath the cov-
ering. After a little the old man is heard singing his
sacred songs and in monotonous voice praying for the
success of those who are about to start on a journey
which will be full of danger. The woman passes a
vessel into the sweat house; the water hisses as it falls
on the hot stones, and steam creeps forth from the
crevices in the covering. Then there is more singing,
and other low-voiced mumbling, prayers in different
voices, and at length after an hour, the coverings of
the lodge are thrown off, the men creep out, rise, and,
all wet with perspiration and bleeding where they
have cut themselves in sacrifice, file down to the
stream and plunge into its cold waters. This is the

tB»

TIIH STUUV OF TUK INDIAN.

nit'diciiie swrat, aiul tlio voiini; men wlio huve taken
part ill it arc al)oiit to start oil' on the \var[)atli.

All (lay loii^j; the women who have remained in
camp have heen at work tanning hides, sewing lodges,
making dried meat,and i)oui\diiig pemmi('an,and they
are still husy, though soon these tasks will i)e laid asido
for the day. As yet they are still bent double over
the green hides, (!hi])j)ing at them with lleshers, and
now and then raising themselves for a moment's rest,
and with one hand brushing away the overhnnging
hair from their foreheads, while with hands on hi])S
they bend baek to streteh themselves and ease their
museles. In the shade of the lodges sit other women,
with stone hammers jiounding ehoke cherries on flat
stones. The tasks are not performed in silence. The
little groups that work near to one another keep uj) a
lively tire of gossip and jest which give rise to abun-
dant merriment. A woman who has an established
reputation for wit is telling with monotonous un-
changing voice and without a particle of expression
in her face a story tliat overwhelms her sisters with
mirth. They cackle forth shrill laughter, and ex-
change delighted comment, but the story goes on
without interruption.

The women wear sleeveless leather gowns reach-
ing to below the knees and belted at the waist, and
from this belt dangle by small chains or leather
thongs the knife, fire steel, and sewing bag, which arc
a part of each one's equipment. The gowns of the
older women are often old and worn, patched here
and there, and black with blood, grease, and dirt.
The clothing of the younger ones, the daughters or
wives of men well to do, is handsome, being clean,
tanned very white, heavily beaded and ornamented

■/J

HIS IIOMK.

with elk tnslios, trimmed with red and l)liie cluth, and
fringed at the ed^j^cs. As a ride, the y()un<,a'r women
are hetter dressed and nuicli more earet'nl of tiicir
personal appearanee than those older, thou<^'li some-
times the latter are neat and ^dve sotne attention to
their hair.

Ihit for the women it is not all hard work. Here
and there <,M'oups are to he seen se\vin<; moccasins or
fashioidiii,' for hushand or children bnckskin lc<;;,Mngs,
shirts, or other aj)parel, or ornamenting snch elothin<]f
with headwork or with beantifully stained (piills of
the porcupine. Jn these tasks much taste is dis-
jilayed, sava<;e thou<fh it be. liesides these workers,
there are not a few who arc teni])tin*^ fortune. In
some cool spot two lines of women sit o])posite each
other, and behijid each jKM'son, or at her side, is a
little i)ile of her possessions which she is bettlni; on
the seed ^^ame, })layed with i)lum stones and a little
flat basket.

Scattered about throutrh the camp, np and down
the stream and on the oj)cn ground nearly to the
blufTs, are the children of these mothers. Tl'e tiniest
of them — those who have been facing the fierce prairie
sun oidy for a few weeks or months — are securely
tied to their boards — the primitive cradle — from which
they gaze solemnly with unwinking eyes on this new
and uncomprehended world. The boards are hung
up on poles or drying scalTolds or travois, or lean
against a lodge, a sage bush, or even a bufTalo skull,
and no attention is i)aid to their occupants, save now
and then when they whim])er and have to be nursed.
Other children, a little older, have been freed from
this imprisonment, and with a bit of dried or fresh
meat in their hands grovel on the ground, alternately

Till', SToliY OF TIIM INDIAN*.

cliouiii;!^ at tlic meat and rul)l)iMf; it in tlio dust nntil
tlu'ir fucTS arn j)l('ntit*uiiy caiad with mud. Sotnc
havo ulrcadv tired (»f tlicir unacjcnstoincd freedom,
and cM'V piteonsly to he }»nt hack on their itoards,
(*easin<; tlieir himeiitations as soon as preparations aro
made to conline tiiem airain.

The children ohl eiiou<j:h to walk are comical to
look Jit, tlion<,'h rather troiihlesome to live with.
The girls arc mostly clad in little smoeks .which reach
to their hare knees, but not so much can l)e said for
the clothinjjf of tlie boys. Some of them have a string'
tied about the waist, and some pet of his father or
grandfather may have a buckskin string about his
neck which carries a few beads or an amulet to kee|)
off disease or the ghosts. l''sually, however, they run
about clad oidy in their close-litting brown hides,
which gather oidy a moderate amount of dii't, and
whicli, when they tear, do not have to he nu'iule(i.

Coming from the direcitiou of a large lodge and
walking with downcast eves across the circle of the
camp, passes a young gii'l bearing in her hand a cov-
ered wooden dish. She is beautifully clail in a dress
of white skins, beaded, fringed, trimme(l with red cloth
and ornamented with elk tushes. Her hair is shining
and neatly braided beliind each ear, ami the paint on
lier face and in the parting of the hair is bright and
fresh. Closely following her, walks another young girl,
and after thev have crossed the circle thev enter a lodge,
which, by its size and ornamentation ami bv the arms
and medicitie bundles which stand near it, is evidently
that of an important man — some chief. The girl who
carries the food is betrothed to the son of the owner of
the lodge which she enters, for now — during the time
between the arrangement for the marriage and its con-

lo.Mi:.

suintnation— slio .«orvos licr fiituro lord willi food ouch
(lav, making the journey fmm licr fat!uM''s IuiIltc to his,
nci'om|>aiiit(l oiilv liy a .-istcr or yoiiii;; "rirl friend.

As the siiii falls ti»\vai'(l the western hori/on the as-
pect of the eatnjt lK\i,Mns to change ; there is more ae-
tivity, more jieople are movin*; ahoiit. 'The wotnen
\w'/\n to put aside the work of dressini; hides, to kin-
dle their tires anew, and to ;jo to the stream fnr water.
From u|i and down the ereek and from over the hlnlT,
f;in;j:l(' liiiures and small ;;ronpsof people are approaeii-
iiiLT tile eatnp. Some of these are wonu'n who have
made \n]\'j^ jdurneys to secure a supply of wood, which
they hrini,' home (»n their ha(d\s or piled hi^di on the
do,L^ travois. Most of those who are com in<; in are men
who have been olT hunting; on the plains, killing; food.
'I'he camp is in a hulTalo eountry and there has been a
general ciiase. 'I'he eircde of the lod<;i'S has hi'en al-
nu)st deserted durinij the early ))art of the day, for men
and women uVikv have been olT to the Inmt, tlie men
to do the killing and the women to bring the meat and
hides to camp. 'I'he last of these are now returning
in little groups, and almost every one is perelied on
top(»f the load of dripping meat borne by the horse slie
rides, and leading one or two })ack horses still more
lieavily laden.

All through the day more or less feasting has been
going on, but this takes place chielly toward evetung.
One who desires to entertain his friends has directed
his wife to prepare the food for his guests, and when
all is ready either sends a messenger about through the
cam}) to invite them, or has him loudly shout out their
names from his own lodge door. JJiit little time elapses
before the guests begin to arrive, and one by one to
enter the lodge. Each is welcomed by the usual salu-

TIIK STURY OF THE INDIAN.

tiition Jiml liis scut i.s iiidicjitecl to him, the more im-
})ort;int men bein^j^ seated fiirtliest buck in the \u{]y^o
uiid nearest to the host's left liand. After a prayer and
the sacrifiec of a portion of the fo(jd, the eating begins
witliout mneh waste of words. Tiie portion set before
caeh man is all he is to receive, he will not be helped
a second time. Among some tribes it is not good man-
ners for a gnest to leave any food on the dish set be-
fore him, but among others, if the man does not care
to eat it all, he may carry away with him that which is
left. Usually the host does not eat with his guests.
While they are disposing of their food, he is cutting up
and mixing the tol)acco for the smokes which are to
follow. As the eating draws to a close, conversation
begins, and at length the host, having fdled the l)ipe,
passes it to a son or a servant on his right, who lights
and then returns it. The host makes the ceremonial
smokes — to the sky, to tlie earth, and to the four car-
diiud points — })rays and then hands the stem to his
left hand neighbor, who, after smoking and praying,
passes it to the man next him, and so it goes from hand
to hand round the circle. It is during this smoking
tliat the formal speech-making — if there is any — takes
place. The subjects touched on are as various as the
speakers, and it is noticeable that each one is listened
to with patience and courtesy, jind is neyer interrupted.
lie finishes what he has to say before another man be-
gins to speak. About a lodge where a feast is going
on, a number of uninvited people gather to listen to
these speeches, and now — for it is summer and the
lodge skins are raised for air — such listeners sitting
about on the ground are in full view of the feasters.
No one recognises any impropriety in such an outside
gathering. If the number of guests at a feast be small,

•i

§-1

HIS HOME.

all the men sit at the right of the door — on the host's
left — and the family, the women and children, are on
the left of the door, in that i)la('e in the lodge which
belongs to them ; but if tl. :■ number of guests is large,
the fauiilv moves out of the lodge for the time bein<r.

As twilight falls the herds of horses from the blulfs
and the u})i)er prairie con^e trooping close to the camp,
driven by the small boys and young men whose duty
it is to attend to this. The most valuable, the swift-
est, are tied to pins driven in the grouiul close to the
lodge door, aiul the others are allowed to go free and
soon work back to the hills near at hand. A man who
has one or more running horses that he greatly values,
perha})s conlines them in a tight pen of logs and poles,
lashed together with thongs of rawhide.

As darkness settles down over the camp, the noise
iucreases. The shrill laughter of the women is heard
from every side, pailly drowned now and then by the
ever-recurring feast shout. From ditYerent quarters
co/nes the sound of drumming and singing, here from
a lodge where some musicians are beating on a par-
fleclie and singing for a dance, there wliere a doctor is
singing and drumming over a sick child. Boys and
young men are racing about among the lodges, chasing
each other, wrestling, and yelling. In front of some
lodge in the full light of the lire which streams from
the open doorway, stand two forms wrapped in a single
robe — two lovers, whispering to each other their affec-
tion and their hopes. Dogs bark, liorses whinny, peo-
ple call to each other from different parts of the camp.
The fires shine tlirough lodge skins and showers of
sparks float through the smokelioles. As the night
wears on the noises become less. One by one the fires
go out and the lodges grow dark. From those where

THE STOUY OF THE INDIAN.

!"i

I'l

diinoiiig is ff(nng on or a party of gamblers arc pliiying
tlio noiso and light still conic, but at last even thci^G
signs of life disa})pear, the men disperse, and the si-
lence of the canii) is broken onlv bv the occasional
stamp of an uneasy hoof or the sharp bark of a wake-
ful dog.

No incident mars the fjuiet of the night. The
moon rises and under its rays the aspect of the circle
is changed. All the camp is flooded with the clear
light, interru})ted only where the lodges cast their long
shadows, or the ground is marked witli slender lines
fallen from the cirying scaffolds, or from the tripods
which sujiport the arms or the medicine buiulles. Be-
fore each lodge stand one or two horses, visible now
only as dusky shapes, silent and motionless. The bril-
liant light of the moon, whicli shows so clearly objects
near at hand, makes those a little further off vague and
indistinct, as if seen through a mist, and in the dis-
tance the lodges of the circle fade out of sight.

Close at hand is a lodge larger than those near to
it, and shining white and new in the moonlight. On
the cow skins are drawn many pictures which tell the
history of its owner, and before the door are tied four
horses, his swiftest and best. This is the lodge of
Three Suns, the chief, and on either side of it, for
some distance around the circle, stand those of his
immediate following, who are also his kinsmen.

The night wears on, and as the day approaches the
first faint sounds of life begin to be heard. Now and
then faintly upon the listening car falls the distant
whistle of the wild ducks' wings as a flock of birds
start on their early morning flight up the stream.
From a liill near the camp come the sharp barks and
dolorous wails of the coyotes, answered from different

MIS IIOMK.

jtoints ill tlio camp by the voices of liulf a dozen ulert
(logs. Tiie tied horses, wliicli luive been lying: down,
rise to their feet and shake themselves, and tiie low
whinny of a mare is responded to by a shrill call fi-oni
file little colt near by.

Jn Three Suns' lodge all is quiet as yet; only the
heavy regular breathing of the sleepers ranged about
the walls shows that there is life there. Here and
there, through some crevice between the lodge skins,
a liny thread of moonlight pierces the gloom, render-
ing the blackness within more intense. Only above
through the wide smoke-hole is there any suggestion
of light, where the sinking moon still illuminates one
of the ears, and below, in the centre of the floor, a
dim circle of white ashes tells where the daily fire
burns.

As the night grows older and the mooTi sets and
the eastern sky begins to pale, there is movement in
the lodge, a restless turning in the side Avhere the
women sleep, and the querulous voice of a disturbed
child is heard. One of the women throws aside her
robe, and, rising, steps to the door and looks out;
then, turning, she takes from under one of the beds
some tinder, dried grass, and slivers of dry wood pre-
pared the night before. With a stick she rakes aside
the ashes, looking for a live coal, but, failing to find
one, uses her flint and steel, and strikes a shower of
sparks which kindle the dry fungus. The punk is
placed in the dried grass, a little blowing starts a
llame, and soon the lodge is brightened by a flickering
fire, and sparks begin to fly out of the smokehole.
By this time two other women have risen from their
couches, and while one looks after the awakening
children, the other goes down to the stream for water.

THE STUIIV OF TlIK INDIAN.

In tlic gray liglit, whicli, constantly growiiiLij
brighter, now sliows the whole caiii}), pillars of bine
smoke rise from every lodge straight n^jwanl through
the still cool air. Many women are hurrying to the
stream for water; young men, elose wra])pe(l in their
robes, are loosening the horses whieh have been tied
up during the night, and they walk briskly olT towar^l
the hills. There is more or less noise and bustle —
the chattering of women ; the shrill calls of colts that
have lost their mothers; the yell of pain from some
dog that during the night has crept into a lodge to
sleep warm with the children and is now discovered
and driven out with blows. All these are the sounds
of the awakening day.

The tops of the blulVs along the river are just be-
ginning to be touched with yellow light as the door of
'J'hree Suns' lodge is pushed aside, and the chief him-
self comes out. His robe hides all his person but the
head and the naked feet, llis face is kindlv and diff-
iiitied,and he talks pleasantly to the little boy of three
or four years whom he carries in his arms and whose
head shows above the robe beside his father's. Dart-
ing about, before and behind or by the side of the
father, is another son, a lad of twelve, naked as at
birth, and holding in his hand a bow and several
arrows, which as he races along lie discharges at vari-
ous marks that present themselves — the blackbirds
swinging from the tops of the sage brush, the ground
squirrels which scuttle from under the tufts of grass,
or even the stones which lie on the prairie.

From other lodges come other men and boys, all
like Three Suns and his children, walking toward
the river. When it is reached they drop their robes,
and all plunge in, the fathers taking even the smallest

HIS JIOMK.

i:>

t'liildreii and dipping them benoatli the wjitor, from
Mhich they cniorgo squirming and kicking but silent.
Tlio older boys dash into the water, and are riotously
si)lashing about, shouting, and diving. Soon all again
have sought the bank, and the men, donning their
robes, return to the lodges. Jlere the pots have been
boiling for some time, and when Three Suns has put
on his leggings and moccasins, combed out liis long
hair, and again belted his robe about him, his first
wife sets before him a horn jilatter, on which are
some choice pieces of buifalo meat. Then the chil-
dren are served, and the women help themselves; and
when all have eaten, the men start olf to hunt, the
women set about their daily work in the camp, and
the children disperse to their play.

So goes the round of Indian life. Another day
has begun.

CHAPTER II.

IlECUKATTONS.

It is a oloar, ])riglit nioriiin<;. The horizon's out-
line is sliarply defined against tiie sky's unbroken bhie,
and the sliadows are growing shorter as the sun elinibs
higlier. Tlie first meal has been eaten. Tlie men have
gone about tlieir daily pursuits, and now only the last
of the hunting jiarties nuiy yet be seen, some riding
ol! down the vallev and others climbing tlie blulTs.
Many men are in the camp, because the buffalo are not
near by ; but other animals which people eat, and
whose skins are good for clothing, are j)lenty not far
away — antelope on the prairies, deer and elk in the
wooded ravines and river bottoms, and sheep ou the
buttes and rough bad lands.

In the camp the daily life goes on. White-haired
old men, holding their robes as close about them as if
it were winter, crouch, two or three together, by the
lodges, and hold slow-voiced converse with one an-
other; young men are sitting in the bright sun braid-
ing their hair and painting their faces ; women are
tanning hides, or making dried meat, or pounding
pemmican. Close by some of the old men, sit groups
of boys, eagerly listening to the talk ; and most of the
women have — on their backs or hung up near to them
— stolid fat brown babies. Dogs lie curled up in the

KECUKATIOXS.

sun, iiiul liorsos stimd before tlio lodges witli heuda
held low and droo])iiig ears.

Of the home-stay iiig folk the children form the
most active and most noisy groups. They are every-
wliere, and the sound of their voices is lieard contin-
ually, 'i'hey run, play, shout, and etlervcsce with life
and s[)irits, like youth the world over.

Like other young animals, these children delight
to do the thiiiirs which occupy their elders. So vou
Avill see each one engaged in some task or sport "which
represents the pursuits of the adidts. All the older
boys are armed with bows and headless arrows, and
Ijractice continually shooting at a mark or for dis-
tance, or sending the arrow almost vertically into the
air in the elTort to make it fall at some particidar
]M)int. They hunt ground squirrels, blackbirds, aiul
even prairie chickens and hares, and, during the sea-
sou of migration, lie in wait by the streams and pools
for ducks and geese. Some who have not yet reached
the age at which they can eifectively use the bow, drag
about after them ropes or strings, and try to lasso each
other or the unlucky dogs, trotting here and there
among the lodges. A set younger still give themselves
up to the delights of tormenting the dogs, and armed
with pieces of Avood as heavy as they can wield, ttike
l)leasure in stealing np to a dog slumbering in the
shade and jiounding the poor brute, which yells dis-
mally, and at once betakes himself to some more se-
cure resting place.

Others of the young braves are engaged in sham bat-
tles. Small parties conceal themselves beliind neigh-
bouring lodges and conduct a mimic fight much after
the manner of men. As arrows, even though head-
less, would be dangerous in this jDretendcd warfare,

TlIK SToIiV OF TIIK INDIAN.

tilt' ()])])()siii^ forces iirc jirmcd witli linibiT switches,
uiul carry under the left arni a hmip of wet clav. A
bit of chiy is pressed on tlie small end of the switcii
and thrown as a missile, just as the white boy throws
a ^H'een ai)plo with like ini])lement. When the lisj^ht
begins, a member of one party sallies out from be-
hind his shelter and runs toward the enemy, throw-
ing his mud balls at those who are jjceping out at him.
Before he has advanced very far two of the op})osing
party rush out and attack him. ][e retreats, is re-
enforced by others from his own side and drives back
the enemy, wlio in turn are strengthened from their
own party. There are alarums and excursions, yells of
defiance, cries of terror, shouts of fury and excitement
from all the small warriors, a plentiful shower of mud
balls, and linally each party retreats to shelter for rest
and the renewing of ammunition. Such battles are
interesting to watch between parties of footmen, but
when two or three combatants on liorseback are set
upon by a number unmounted, the excitement is much
greater. The mounted men charge upon the footmen,
who fly to their shelter, throwing back as they run a
cloud of mud balls, before which the cavalry retreat
to a safe distance. Then a few of the footmen steal
from their cover, trying to get within range, yet not
venturing so far that they will be overtaken in the
event of a charge. Very likely the mounted forces
retire to decoy their assailants still further away; but
at length they charge, then there is a helter-skelter re-
treat, re-enforcements rush forth, and the yelling and
excitement are worthy of a real battle. So the fight
•will go on for half a day, one of either party now and
then having a coup counted on him or being captured.
From the river which runs by the camp comes a

KKCHKATIONS.

11)

babble of t'liildi.slj voict'S, int('rni[)t('(l now and tlii'ii
by jticrfiii;,' yells and sounds of splasliin;,' in tliu water.
A gi'oiii) of boys a'/e divin^^ s\viiMniin;^% and wivstlini,'
in a pool, as nimble and as nircii at lionie in tbe water
as so many lislies ; and near by on llie bank two or
three lads, who have come from the watei', are sitting
naked in the sun, slowlv and laboriously fashionini;
itLTures (»f ehiy, which they carefully support a<,''ainst
the bank to dry. 'i'he ima;i:es represent horses, dogs,
bulValo, and men, and though rude and often gro-
tesque, may sometimes be recognised. To make them
is a favourite amusement of tbe children.

If the boy at bis })lay rebearscs tbe warlike pursuits
of the years to come, not less do the little girls sbare
the cares and duties of womaidiood. Close by a lodge
several are at play tending their dolls. I'he largest,
who may be ten years old, is fasbioiung a p; r of tiny
moccasins from some bits of dressed antelope skin.
These may be for the baby sbe carries on ber back —
a jnippy — whose sharp eager eyes, excited yelps, and
occasional inelTectual struggles sbow that be is not
altogetber contented witb bis jdaee upon tbe cbiUrs
shoulders. At eacb eltort ber ])lay baby nuikcs to get
free, the girl bitcbes up ber blaid<et and draws it closer
about ber, speaking sbari)ly to him as a woman would
speak to an unruly child. Other little girls ai'c busy
with dolls made of rolls of buckskin, willi a bead
rudely painted in black on one end. fSome of them
are lashed to boards in tbe usual way, but one bas
been freed from its confinement and is beld in tbe
arms. This one bas, tied to the end of its buckskin
arm, a bit of dried meat, wliicli its nurse holds to its
iiKMitli from time to time, as if to keep it quiet. 'J'hc
dolls are nursed and looked after much as a parent

TlIK STOKV OF TIIK INDIAN.

would tri'iit u l)al)y. Tlie little fjirls play at fci'iliii^'
tiiciu, Hiii<;- to tiu-ni the sanio i)laintivc', inoiiotoiioii.s
SOUL'S their own mothers have used to hush them to
sleep, take them down to the stream to wash them,
aud sew for them tinv moccasins and other clothiu''.

On the stream bank not far from the camp a group
of girls are busy about two tiny lodges, fitted up with
small lodge i)oles, and with ail <'" furniture of a real
loilgo. 'i'hey lire playing at keeping house. I*>y and
by they will move their camj). Catching some of the
old, steady dogs, and harnessing them to the travois,
they will pack up their camp, set out on the march,
and then going a short distance, put up the lodges
again, build their fhvs and go to cooking, pounding
berries, dressing hides, and doing all the things that
occupy their mothers in the daily life of the camp.

On the outskirts of the camp, young i)en])lc are en-
gaged in dilTerent games and contests of skill. Young
girls and women, tifteen or twenty of them, arc run-
ning hither and thither after a large ball of buckskin,
stull'ed with antelope or bulTalo hair. This is driven
along the ground befoi'c the players with their feet,
each one trying to retain the ball as long as jiossible.
This is a girl's game, but some of the young married
women of the camp are taking part in it, as well as
two or three half-grown lads, who have not yet reached
the age for hunting or going to war, or at which they
feel it necessary to appear dignified. All the players
take the greatest interest in the game, which is really
a great romp, and tliey shout, scream, laugh, run, and
push each other about, like the children that they are.

Other 3'Oung people are practising at throwing cer-
tain special toys made for this purpose. One of these
is a small curved piece of bone four inches in length,

KKCREATIONS.

■«-•

I'd

t'y

'I'S

'iv

formed of u si'ction of u l)ii(Tal()'s rih. One end is
sharpened and tii>i»e(l witli iiorii, and in eltlier niar^dn
of the rib near the otiier end, lioles are drilled diagon-
ally, in winch the (|nills of stont feathers are inserted,
so that the toy will lly evenly. The contestants east
these implements, l»y an nndi'rhand tiirow, liori/ontally
over a llat snrfaee, so that the bone shall strike on its
convex side and ricochet alon*,^ it. 'J'hese toys are nsed
chielly over the ice in winter, and an expert thrower
can send one a surprisingly long way. Other boys and
girls throw long slender springy sticks, tipped with
i)iilTalo horn. U'hesu arc thrown forward bv one end,
tiiridng over and over in the air, and when the tip
strikes the ground the stick bounds up, turns over sev-
eral times, again st likes on the point and bounds into
the air, thus advancing by leaps for a h)ng distance.

Xo game i)layed l)y men and boys is so popuhir as
the stick or ring game. Little children begin to play
it as soon as they can run easily, well-grown boys prac-
tice it constantly, and young men spend much of their
time in camp racing over the course, wininng and los-
ing horses, arms, and clothing at the game. The stick
game varies in some of its details with ditTerent tribes,
hut its essential features are evervwhere the same. It
is played with a ring or wheel of rawhide, usually
wrapped or cross barred with rawhide strings to give it
stillness, and variously adorned with beads and little
tags, each of which has some special meaning. Each
l)layer is armed with a straight, slender, pointed stick,
five feet long, which is thrown at the ring as it is rolled
along the ground, the object being to send the stick
through the ring. The sticks are some times simple,
or in tribes where the game has reached a high degree
of development and become more complex, cross bars,

TIIK ST(»liV OF TIIK IN'DIAN'.

Iiooks, and oilier projections are la>lie(l to llieiu.
When the riii^^ is rolled alon<; the ;,M"oiiiid the jilayers
run after it and dart their sticks at it. The relation
of the rin^' to some part of the stick determines tho
nnmher of points won by the thrower.

in every eamp where a huiir stav is made the vouiiir
men, before many days iiave jiasscd, clcai' away the
grass, stones, and inc(|nalities from a piece of level
gronnd, makinjj: a smooth course (»ver which the v'xw^
is to be rolU'd, and at this course, the men (d' th(!
camp, yonn<; and old, ^^'lther daily to play ami to look
at the ^amc and pimble on it. I{an<(ed alon^ thi!
course stand tho spectators, of both sexes, wrapped in
their robes. Some are meivly oidookers, too old uv
too lazy to take part in the <,'amo. Others await their
turn. A few women, interested in the success of lover
or newly mariied husband, stand among the nu-n iind
eagerly watch the jday. A very large pi-oj)oitio!i of
the men in the camp are now, or have been, ])layers of
tho game, and the course is the gathering })lace during
tho day for all tho idle men in the camp. It is also
tho great betting ground, for not oidy do the ])layers
contest for a stake, but the sjieetators lay wagers on
their favourites, losing and wininng large amounts of
property on a single game.

These games alTord suj)erb exliibitions of speed
and skill. Stripped to breech-cU)ut and moccasins, tho
two contestants, holding tlieir sticks in their hands,
bend forward, straining like greyhounds in tho sli])s,
eager to start on tlio conrse. Their naked bodies, su-
perbly developed, are lithe and sinewy rather than
muscular, but M'onderfully tongh and enduring, for
they are kept at tho very highest pitch of physical
training by their simple wholesome food and by the

UHCUKATIoNS.

constant exercise tluit tlicy an; lakiii.!,' - the lalMUir (»f
litinliii^', the \tn\<i foot jonrtieys to war, and siieli sport.s
as tlicy are now indnl^'in;^' in. I»rown skins ri'llecit tlio
li'ilit, Mack liair blows out in llie breeze, dark vyvt^ roll
as tliev watch each other, and Ion;; jin;;ers nervously
clasp and unclasp, littinu; theuisidves to the lln^rcr
holds on the sticks which they ,i,n'asp. One of the ]iaii'
of players holds his stick in his left hand, pre})ared to
roll the rin;; with his ri;jjht. \\ lien both are ready and
all the bets have bcH-n made, he who holds the rin^'
^ivcs it a stron;; pitch forward and both dash after it,
as it rolls along the course. IJaciuL,' along on Hying
moccasins they soon ov«'rtake it, and as its speed slack-
ens, thev dart tiieir stiidv at it bv a curious umlerhaml
throw, endeavouring to transfix it. 'J'his they seldom
Kiuiceed in doing, but usuallv oiu; or both sticks touch
the rijig and knock it down, and pf»ints are counted ])y
the distance of the ring from the dilTercnt parts of the
stick.

it is unusual for a player to send his stick through
the ring, but if this is accomplished lie has won the
game. Much more often a number of courses have to
be run before the issue is decided, for, as the ])oints
(•btained by each i)layer an^ always deducted from the
score of liis oi)])onent, one of the ])layers is always
nothing. The contestaiits take turns in rolling Iho
ring, so that each alternately sulTers a slight delay in
starting and the inconvenience of having to change
Ills stick from one liand to the otlier.

In its highest development the game is complicated
and affords much opportuiuty for dispute and wran-
gling, "When the players cannot decide the questions
involved to the satisfaction of both, thev call one of
the spectators to act as umpire and give a decision,

TUK STORY OF TIIF. INDIAX.

I '

wliicli is always accepted without (Iciniir as final.
Amorg tho men no sport of the camp attracts so much
attention antl intiTcst as the stick game, yet tho
Avomcn do not care es})ecially for it, for they have
amusements of their own.

As the sun gi'ts low in tho west many of the
women put aside tlu'ir daily tasks and devote a little
time to recreation — gossi}) and gamhling. (lathered
in groups in the shade of the lodges, with hahies on
their backs or beside them on the ground, they laugh
and chatter, giving each other the news of their fami-
lies and of the camp in a manner quite worthy of ii
civilized drawing room. .Many of them play the seed
game, the two i)arties sitting in line facing each other,
each woman having by her side the little }>ilo of prop-
erty she intends to wager — some bits of red cloth, a
few strings of beads, some tobacco, and other things
that people nse. These are not })ut up as stakes, but
each player's bet is re])rescnted by a stick i)ut \\[)
against a similar stick wagered by her o])ponent. The
game is not unlike throwing dice. Five plum stones,
blackened and then variously marked on one side, are
placed on a flat wicker basket about the size and
shape of a tea plate, and by a quick jerk are thrown
into the air and then caught in tho basket as they
come down. 'I'he marks on the upper surface of the
stones so caught indicate the vabio of the throw, and
the points gained or lost by the line of women on the
side of the manipulator of the basket. ^luch mirth
accompanies this game, and the talking and laughter
are incessant. The winners chaff their opponents,
and these reply to their jeers with quick jest and
repartee.

In the so-ial dances, which are usually given at

lit

T'uwiR'c W'oiiiaii and Cliild.

•f: '<

RECREATIONS.

night, women as well as men take part. The dances
are held in a largo lodge, and all the dancers and
many onlookers gather there soon after the evening
meal is eaten, and long before the dance begins.
Men and women alike have pre})ared themselves for
the festivities. The hair is neatly combed, newly
braided, and shining; line clothing is worn with nniny
ornaments, and the faces gleam with fresh red paint.
The women sit together on one side of the lodge and
the men on the other. Long before the dancers step
on to the lloor the singers — chosen for their skill —
start the air, which is nsnallv in a minor kev, and
keep time to the song by ponnding on a drum or on a
partleche which lies on the ground. To an unac-
customed ear many of the dance songs sound monot-
onous enough, yet often there is a great deal of
melody in them. Frequently a single dancer, man or
woman, will rise and dance for a long time alone,
stamping about with knees half bent ; after a Avhile
another joins in and then another, until half a dozen
may be dancing at the same time. As these retire
and sit down to rest, others take their place. Often a
woman gets np and dances for a time alone, and then
dancing before a particular man, chooses him for a
partner, and the two dance opposite one another with
deliberate steps for some time and then sit down, or
the woman may throw lier robe over her partner's
head and kiss him, and then sit down, leaving him to
dance for a time alone. This is an expression of lik-
ing for the man and a high compliment to him. In
other dances the woman gives to the partner she lias
selected some trifling present, and he is expected to
make one to her in return. Such dances are partici-
pated in for the most part by young people. The

TIIK STORY OF Till-: IXDIAX.

dancers keep excellent time, and, while very much in
earnest about the whole performance, seem f,M'catly to
enjoy themselves.

Many of the dances are })erformed in ordinary
costume, except that both men and womeii throw olT
their robes or blankets to give them greater freedom
and coolness, for dancing is hot work, and a lodge
crowded with people is not the coolest place in the
world. At special times, however, the men dance
without any clothing except breech-clouts and moc-
casins and spend a great deal of time painting their
bodies for the occasion. White clay is a favourite
colour for legs and arms, and sometimes for the body ;
red is the colour most used for the face, and occa-
sionallv green and vellow.

At times there takes place a dance, which is al-
most wliollv commercial. In the old days, when the
tribes manufactured their own clothing, arms, uten-
sils, and ornaments, it happened usually that each one
was celebrated for some s^^ecial article which it was
known to make better than other tribes. It might be
tiiat one tribe made handsonu-r war ])onnets, better
war shirts, or louder rattles than its neighbours, and
occasionally a few men would take a number of these
desirable and high-priced articles and visit some neigh-
bouring tribe to barter their goods for horses or other
property. Hospitably received, they live in the lodges
of principal men, and before long give a dance— usu-
ally cue of those peculiar to their own tribe — in which
perhaps some of the garments or ornaments which
they have to sell are worn and so displayed, or if this
is not done, the dance is at least an advertisement of
their presence and its purpose.

Gambling is a universal amusement among In-

»'

nECREATIOXS.

dians, and tlicy bet on all games of skill and chance.
The Indiatis of the Southwest have loni; been familiar
with playing cards, and with these play some Spanish
games, but, even at the present day, they prefer to lay
wagers on their own games. 'Vln^y di'light in horse-
racing and foot-racing, and hct heavily on these as
well as on the stick game; but perha})s no gjimbling
game is so widespread and so })opular as that known as
" hands." It consists in guessing in which of the two
luuuls is held a small marked object, right or wrong
guessing being rewarded or penalized by the gain or
loss of points. The players sit in lines facing each
other, each man betting with the one opposite him.
The object held, which is often a small polished bone,
is intrusted to the best player on one side, who sits
opjiosite to the best jilayer on the other. The wagei's
are laid — after more or less discussion and bargaining
as to the relative values of things as unlike as an otter-
skin quiver on one side and two plugs of tobacco, a
yard of cloth, and seven cartridges on the other — and
the game begins with a low song, which soon increases
in volume and intensity. As the singers become more
excited, the man who holds the bone moves his hands
in time to the song, brings them together, seems to
change the bone rapidly from hand to hand, holds
their palms together, puts them behind his back or
under his robe, swaying his body back and forth, and
doing all he can to mystify the player who is about to
try to choose the bone. The other for a time keeps
his eyes steadily fixed on the liands of his opponent,
and, gradually as the song grows faster, bends for-
ward, raises his right liand with extended forefinger
above his head, and holds it there, and at last, when
he is ready, wdth a swift motion brings it down to a

!il^

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

liorizoiitiil, pointing at one of the luiiids Mliieh \a
iiistiintly oj)eiied. If it contains the hone, the side
^\•hieh was guessing lias won, and cacli man receives a
stick from the opposite phiyer. Tiie bone is then
passed across to the op})Osite side, tlie song is re-
newed, and the others guess. The game olTers oppor-
tunities for clieating, but this scUlom takes place. I
have known of only one case of the kind, and in that
instance the detected gamblers were forced by peace-
ful means to return all the property they had won.
I'his was during the Crook campaign of 18'iG-''77,
when the Cheyenne and Pawnee scouts who accom-
panied tlie command gambled against each other. At
first the luck of the game varied in the usual way, but
at last it turned to the side of the Cheyennes, who
were occasionally able to guess which hand held the
bone when the Pawnees had it, while the Pawnees
never succeeded in guessing right when the Cheyennes
had it.

This occurred so cojistantly that suspicion was ex-
cited and a close watch was kept on the Cheyenne
player. When it was believed that he had hidden the
bone in his robe, where he could drop his hand on it
in a moment, two Pawnees sprang forward, and seizing
his two hands held them up in the air closed, in the
sight of all the players. They were opened and both
were empty. A long wrangle followed in which the
Cheyennes disavowed the act of their fellow, and at
length agreed to restore, and did restore, all the horses
that they had thus unfairly won.

Like most games of chance at which men win or
lose property, this one has a strong fascination for the
Indians, and men spend their nights at play and win
and lose heavilv.

RKCREATIOXS.

On specitil onoasioiis, when vitsits ure beiiif? paitl by
members of unother tribe, horse and foot raeiiig take
})hice. Eaeh party brings out some swift jiouy or
man, and bets on its champion all they have. If the
visitors lose they will very likely receive many presents
from their hosts, so that th(n' mav not be obliged to go
home poor, but if they win, they may very likely carry
with them nearly all the })roperty of the camp, for the
intense tribal ])ride of the Jiulian-^his patriotism —
leads him to believe that the men, women, chiklren,
and ponies of his own tribe can do things better than
any others, and he will show his faith in his own
by wagering his last })ony and his last blanket on its
performance.

Such are some of the })rinci})al pastimes of the peo-
\)\q during the hours of a fair summer day. There are
winter s])orts in which the chiMren engage, sliding
down hill on sleds made of bulfalo ribs, spinning t()[)S
on the ice, and i)laying half naked in the snow. The
tinv children sometimes find an old bulTalo bull wal-
lowing through the dee}) snow and delight in running
up close to it and shooting at it their headless arrows.
In winter the men no longer play at sticks; the women
do their gambling in the lodge. But if food is abun-
dant the feasting and the dancing and the visiting go
on in all weathers.

I I

(CHAPTER IIT.

A MARUIA(iE.

I>f the circle of the lodges stood one that was hirire
and painted on all its sides with the story of its own-
er's deeds. From two of the lodge poles bulTulo tails
swung in the wind, and on a tripod near at liand hung
the bundles which proclaimed the owner of the lodge
to be a medicine man and a great warrior. This was
the home of Three Suns, the chief of a gens of the
people. lie was a great chief, brave, wise, and gener-
ous. In the councils of the tribe he thought and
spoke for the good of the people, not for himself ; for
many years he had been a leader of war parties and all
his journeys to war had been lucky, for he had struck
many of his enemies and had taken many horses.
Most of these he gave away to his friends and rela-
tions or to those who were poor or to comfort those
who had lost friends or relations in war.

Xot far from the lodge of Three Suns, in the circle
of the camp, stood the home of Buffalo Iiibs, himself a
chief, a brave warrior, successful in his expeditions
against his enemies, rich from the spoils of war, a man
of kindly heart and generous disposition, Avell thought
of by all the tribe. Xow Buffalo Ribs had a son, a
young man of marriageable age, who as a servant had
been off on two or three war parties, and had done
well. He had taken some horses and was a good

A MAliHIACJK.

liuiitcr. 'riiii yoiuig inuii, whose luime wtis White An-
telope, liiid seen tlie oldest dtiughter of Three Suns,
and because she wiis pleusiint to look ut he liked her,
and he wanted her for his wife. He luid spoken to
her too ; in the bei^innini; onlv lookinii' at her and
sniilinjj:, and afterward wailing for her outside her
father's lodge and talking to her — at lirst onlv a little,
for she was afraid and would not wait to listen, but
afterward, as she got nsed to him, he had talked to her
longer, so that now the two knew eacli other well.

When White Antelope had made up his mind that
he wanted this girl for his wife, and when he found
that she liked him, he spoke to his father about the
matter, telling what was in his mind ; and BulTalo
Itibs considering it, and remembering that Three Suns'
family was good, and that he was a chief, loved by his
peoi)le, and rich, and that his wives were good women
and kept the lodge well supplied with dressed skins
and good clothing, and that the girl was modest, quiet,
sensible, and always busy, thought that she would nud-io
a good wife for his boy. So, when he had thought of
all these things, he sent word to his brothers and near-
est kinsfolk, asking them to come to his lodge and eat
with him, for he had something to say to them, lie
told his .wife to cook food, and she took from the par-
fleches dried corn and dried berries and dried meat
and backfat, and boiled the food, and before sunset all
was read v.

When the invited relations had come and all had
eaten, and the pipe had been lighted and was passing
from hand to hand aronnd the circle, Buffalo Kibs
spoke to his relations and told them what was in his
mind and asked their opinion about this marriage,
whether it ought to take place or not. Then they be-

TIIK STOIIV OF TIIR INDIAN.

^an to s])Oiik, one at a tliiic, the oldest lirst. and soiiio
.said one thiii<jf and .souu^ aiiotlicr, hut all s[)()lv(: ^<Hn[
words about 'IMiree Suns and his girl, and all thought
that it would hi' good if thi; young rium could havi' her
for his wife. When all had spoken, Hull'alo Kihs hini-
.self stood u[) and spoke, aiul said that he thought as
they all did, and that it was his pur{)ose to ask 'i'hreo
Suns for the girl to he the wife of Whito Antelope.
80 the nuittor was eoneluded.

'I'he next day, when the sun was liigh, the mother
of White Antelope went to the lodge of Three Suns
aiul spoke to his llrst wife, telling her how it wa.s, and
that Hull'alo Uibs wanted her daughter for his son's
wife; and Three Suns' woman listened, hut said
nothing. When 'I'hree Suns came again to his camp
from his huntitig, the women took the meat from the
horses and turned them loose. Then afterward, when
he had eaten and was smoking, as he sat there rest-
ing, the wonuin told him what JJufTalo Uibs' wife
had said. For a long time the chief sat there and
snujkeil, saying nothing, for he was thinking; but at
length he knocked the ashes from his pipe and spoke
to the woman, saying : " Make ready something to eat,
and I will send word to my close relations and ask
them to come and cat with me, a little time before
the sun disappears behind the mountains." His wife
answered : " It shall be as you have said." She called
the other wonu'U, and they pre})ared a kettleful of
dried nu^at and sarvis berries and hung it over the
lire, and from the partleches took dried backfat and
tongues, and made ready for a feast. Three Suns
called to a young man who lay asleep in the shade of
a lodge near by, and said to him : " Go now to the
lodges of Skunk Head, Took Two Guns, Buffalo Horse,

A MARRIAGE.

ilc Slniok Two, ami Wolf Moccasin, and tell them
that I ask thom to come and smoke with me a little
while before the sun goes to rest behind the mcjun-
tains." And the voun<' man arose and went awav.

When the time came, and the sun was ^a'tting low,
these invited men came to 'riiree Suns' lodge and
entered, and as they came in tlu' host spoke to each
one, bidding him welcome and showing him where to
sit. To his oldest relations he gave the seats furthest
from the door, while the younger ones sat further
from himself. \\'hen all ha<l come, the women set
food before them, and, while they were eating. Three
Suns was cutting tol)acco and lixing the i)i])e for
smoking. At length 'lie dishes were cleared, the
women took them away, and the pipe, having been
loaded, was i)assed by Three Suns to the young num
on his right, who lighted it ami handed it back.
Then Three Suns made a })i'ayer and smoked to the
sky, to the earth, and to the four })()ints of the com-
pass, and haiuled tlu^ ])ipo to the old uum on his left
hand. He smoked and made a prayer, aiul passed it
to the next, who did the same, aiul he to the next,
and so it went arouiul, each man nuUving a prayer.
When he had smoked, Three Suns spoke, and told
his relations of the message sent him by liulfalo
Jiibs, and asked them what they thought about the
nuitter, and whether the marriage that had been
proposed ought to take pla(;e. For a little while no
one s[)oke, aiul then the oldest of the relations,
Skunk Head, the uncle of Three Suns, said : " My
opinion is that the girl should be given to that young
man. We all know BulTalo Uibs, a brave num, lucky
in war, careful of his people, generous and rich. He
has many horses, and is often away upon the warpath

TlIK STOliV OF Till: INDIAN.

^'cttiii'' more, !)tit wlit'ti liii.s lio lost one (»f liis voiiiiir
incn':' II(! Una ^ood woincii, not i'oolisli oiu's, iiiul
tlu'V arc ahvjiys l)iisy. 'I'lic voiiii;,' man, his son, has
(ioiic well. Four times lie has hi'cii to war, and all
ills jonrnevs have ht'cn foi timatf. lie will he like his
rather, and lhoii;,d» now he is only a servant, yet, if he
survives, the time will come when he will he a hravo,
and it niav be a ehii'f. Mv son's* dauirhter is a ffood
woman, and she will make a <;ood wife, earing well
for her hushaiurs comfort, and brin;,dn,ij; up good eliil-
di'en. Therefore let these young jteople sit beside
each other and be man ami wife."" When he had lin-
ished, most of those sitting there said it was good.
'I'hen one or two others spoke, saying the same things
that Skunk Head had said. Then Three Suns said :
''For myself, I think with all of yon, that it is well
that my daughter should bo given to this young man.
It shall be done as you have said." Some more talk
followed, as is natural among relations, and then one
by one the men left the lodge.

While these older people wi-re talking thus, the
young ])eo})le were talking too. From Three Suns'
lodge a well-worn trail led thi'ongii the sage brush
toward the stream and entered the fringe of the wil-
lows and uiulei'brush that grew along its banks, and
down this trail, with quiek light ste])s and a contented
suule upon her face, Three Suns' daughter was pass-
ing. She was neatly — even handsomely — dressed, her
buckskin moccasins ornamented with bright-coloured
quills, and her leggings and gown beaded and fringed,
while many elk tushes were sewed to its sleeves and
shoulders and made a light rattling sound as she

The Indiiui cmIIs liis no[)lio\vs sons and lii<; nieces daughters.

A MAUUlACiK.

Wiillvcd. IltT liuir Wiis newly bniidrd and sliiiiiii;;,
jiinl licr clurks, foivhcad, and (lie parting; of licr hair
wore l)ri.L,dit with I'rosh [taint. About her throat was
a niaiiy-<'oloiir('(| i-oUar of small Ix-ads, tMnhroidcrcd
with sinew tinvad on a strip of sol't-divssiMl huckskiii
in a curious pattt-rn, wiiih' IVoin iicr l(';,';zin;i;s huni^
two or thn-c litthi brass hells which tiid\lc(l softly as
she walked, and wiih the faintly rattling v\k Uvlh
made a little (dunu- to her iin)vemi'nts.

The frinij^e of hushes hordcring tho stream was
only a few yanls wide, but us the girl approached it
shu looked ahead earnestly, as if expecting to see
something. .Just within the bushes, in a little open-
ing at the side of the trail, stood a tall figure shrouded
from head to aid\les in a dressed cow skin sheet, which
concealed the whole person. A corner of the sheet
was drawn over the head, and the eyes looked out
throuirh a narrow slit. Kvidentiv the girl knew who
it was, for when she saw the iigurc slie smiled Ji little
to herself, held down her head, aiul turned her face
away, but continued her brisk walk along the trail.
Just as she had come opposite tlu^ ligure and was
al)()ut to })iiss by, it took a swift ste[) forward, the
sheet opened aiul closed again about the girl, who
with a faint exclamation dropped her bucket and
stood, lield close in her lover's arms.

Their conference was a long one, but at length the
girl wrenched herself free, jticked up her bucket, ran
to the water's edge, and filled it, and without a word
glided away along the trail toward tho camp.

That night a message was sent to Butfalo IJihs,
telling him that the proposal of nuirriage was accept-
able to Three Suns, and at once the two families be-
gan to prepare for the events. There was a natural
4

TIIH STURV OF THK INDIAN.

(losiro on tlic pjirt of each to give the two youn«5^ ;)eo-
})lo a good start in life ; hut hesides tliis, as l)otii fami-
lies were well to do and of high social standing in the
tribe, the members of each were ambitious that their
marriage gifts should exceed in value those of the
other family. 'J'his rivalry promised a generous out-
lilting for the j)air. So it was that all the relations
on either haiul began to consider what they should give.
First of all, the wives of Three Suns began to nudvc
ready the special ])ropcrty, which in a marriage be-
tween wealthy people the girl always brings with
lier. From her store of iiewlv dressed cow skins,
white and smooth, the i)rincipal wife of 'riiree Suns
chose sixteen large ones, and after going over them
carefully, and sewing up with sinew the arrow and bul-
let holes, she spread out these skins and cut them so
as to form the lodge. Then taking the bundles of
sinew thread made from the ligaments which lie along
the loin of the buiTalo, Three Suns' wives and older
daughters began the M'ork of sewing together the
lodge. ^Fany haiuls mjjke light work, aiul in two or
three days the task was accomplished. Next were
selected eighteen new lodge polos, slender }et strong,
smoothly shaved down with a knife, so that no knots,
splinters, or rough bark remained on them, by which
the lodge covering might be Avorn or torn, and pointed
at their butts so that they should not sli[) on the
smooth hard ground. The two longer poles, which
support the ears, or wings on either side the smoke-
hole, were pointed at their upper ends as well, so that
the loops at the points of the wings sliould fit over
them and should not slip olT when blown by the wind.
Besides this lodge, there was supplied a lining for it,
back rests, parlleches to pack with and to contain

I i

1} i

A MAURlA(iE.

food, utensils with wliicli to })ro])iiro, cook, and serve
il; buckets and cups for wjiter — in fact, all the furniture
of a honu'. ^lany of these articles had already been
made bv the women of the family, many others Avcro
sent to the lodge as presents by the <,nrrs relations.

Ik'sides the clotiiiu<if which tlie girl already pos-
sessed, liierc ^vcre i)rovided new gowns, leggings, ami
nu)cea^?in::, all of them embroidered with beads and
bright ([iiills, and ornamented with fringe and with
strips of fur or red or blue cloth. 'J'he gowns were
made of buck or elk skin carefully tanned, smooth and
ilexible, smoked so as not to harden when they become
\vet, and then carefully whitened Mith white clay.
The leggings were of buckskin. The girl's summer
sheet was the well-tanned skin of a bulTalo heifer, or
of an elk, on which the dew claws had been left.
After it had been tanned ami smoked, its outer surface
— that from which the hair had been remoyed — was
thoroughly rubbed with white clay, after which the
skin was beaten to remove the superfluous earth. This
was rejieated from time to time as the sheet became
soiled, aiul so it wjis always white and new looking.

To his oldest daughter, Three Suns had already
given two riding horses and a pack horse, and she al-
ready had her own riding saddle — high peaked in front
aiul behind, and fringed with bucd-cskin, with an em-
broidered saddlecloth — as well as a pack saddle. Very
likely another saddlecloth will be given her, made
from a })art of a buffalo robe, tjinned very soft, the
upper surface — the flesh side of the robe — embroidered
with beads aiul bordered with red or blue cloth which
is also beaded. Perhaps one of her brothers, or her
mother, may have nuule for her riding horse a head-
stall of rawhide, which she has wound with beads and

mmmm

IMM

TllK STORY OF THE IXDfAX.

adorned Avith two or three Lrass bells. Among the
various household utensils esi)eeiully recjuired by ti girl
about to be nuirried are knives for butchering, mauls,
large and small, scrapers and llcshers for tanning
liides, pots and kettles for cooking, vessels to hold
water and cups to drink from, dishes to eat from,
spoons, and ladles. All these various articles the girl
Avill receive, in much the same way as a young woman
of our day and civilization receives her trousseau and
her wedding gifts. Her mother and father sup})ly the
lodge, the robes, the clothing, and besides all this a
dowry of horses. The father also often presents to
liis son-in-law his own weapons of war and his war
clothing. Such a gift means more than the mere
value of the articles, though usually this is not small,
and, besides, they are endeared to their owner by many
associations. It is an evidence of the liigh esteem in
which he holds the young man, and is an unspoken
assurance that the donor believes his son-in-law will
use these things with as much credit to himself as
their former owner. It is the highest compliment that
a man can pay to his son-in-law.

"While all the preparations for the marriage were
going on Three Suns' daughter had to face a trial.
AVhen it had been decided that she should become the
wife of White Antelope, she had to do something very
hard — a thing which Avould tell the peojjle of the camp
that the marriage was to take place.

The next morning after the matter had been de-
termined. Three Suns' daughter selected some food,
the best that there was in the lodge, cooked it, and
when it was ready to be eaten, she put it in a bowl,
covered it with a dish, and then clad in her b^st
clothes and followed by her younger sister, she left

STl'

A MARRIAGE.

lior father's lodge and walked toward that oecupied
by ButTalo JJibs. All the people whom she i)assed,
sitting or standing about the camp, looked curiously at
lier as she went by them, and some of the young peo-
ple giggled and whispered together. The girl felt
very much ashamed, but she walked along with her
eyes cast down, lier sister following modestly behind
her, and soon reached the lodge to which she was go-
ing and entered it. Turning to the left she sat down
for a moment on the woman's side, so as to see who
was there, and she was glad when she found that the
only peoi)lo within were AVhite Antelope, who was at
work smoothing arrowshafts between two stones, and
Buffalo Ribs' first wife and daughter, who were sewing
moccasins. AVhen the girl saw that these were the
oidy people in the lodge, she rose, and going to where
"White Antelope sat, she oll'ered the dish to him. lie
took it and ate, and the girl returned to her })lace and
sat down. After the boy had eaten, he put down the
dish on the ground before him, and Avent on with his
work, and the girl again rising, took the dish and of-
fered it to his mother, who also ate a little, and then
put it down. A few moments after this the daughters
of Three vSuns left the lodge and walked back toward
their father's. As she was returning the girl still held
her eyes down and looked neither to the right nor to
the left, but it seemed to her that the people did not
stare so much, and that the boys and girls did not tit-
ter and talk so much about her.

During the whole time between the acceptance of
the proposal and the marriage the girl thus brought
food each day to White Antelope, serving him as a
wife should servo her husband, and thus telling all the
people that they were to be man and wife.

NM^i

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

!i1

; !.

During tlie days of jircparation for tlie marrijigo,
wliich usiiallv are not inanv, the relations of Three
Suns were brinfjing tlieir presents to the lodge. The
men brought men's things and the women things used
by women, and by the time the day had come tiiere
might be two or three horseloads of gifts. When all
was ready, the mother and daughter packed all these
things on some of the horses with the new lodge and
lodge poles, and moving olf to near wliere JiulTaio
Ribs' gens was camped, the horses were un])acked, the
lodge was \n\i up, the furniture was moved into it, a
tire was kindled, and the horses belonging to the girl
and those presented by the relations were tied outside
the lodge. Then the mother went back to her home.
As soon as she had gone, AVliite Antelo})e, perhaps
accompanied by one of his young brothers, drove up
his horses and tied them near the lodge and entered.
Thus the marriage was accomplished.

Before this, the boy or his father and his relations
had got together the horses which were to be sent to
Three Suns. They all wished to be considered gener-
ous, and they made it a point to send to the chief
presents of greater value than those which the girl
had received from her family. These presents were,
many of them, distributed among those relations who
had made gifts to the girl. Soon after the marriage,
feasts were given by the two families in honour of the
newly married pair, and on such occasions, those of the
girl's relations who had received gifts sent to Three
Suns by Buffalo Ribs or his family, made presents of
like value to the young people. So all the presents
given by both families came back at last to the newly
married pair.

It is of course understood that the marriage cus-

A MARRIAGE.

toms of (liirercnt tribes vary widely, and that, even
witliin the same tribe, no two marriages take ])lace in
precisely the same way. Among the i)oor and the
nnimportant there is much less ceremony than among
those who are of good family and well to do.

As an example of the ways of a particular tribe —
the Pawnees — the following account* is given :

In the oiden time, before they had horses, when
their dogs, their simple arms, and their clothing con-
stituted all their possessions, the Pawnees married for
love. The affection which existed between two young
people was then the only motive which brought about
a union, and this affection was seldom interfered with
unless there was a very great diil'erence between the
social standing of the family of the boy and of the
girl, for it must be understood that oxon in primitive
times rank existed in a Pawnee camp, just as it does
to-day in civilized society.

After the Pawnees obtained horses and began to
accumulate property — as the people acrpiired wealth,
and their circumstances became easier — the practice
arose of giving presents to the immediate relatives of
the girl whose hand was sought in marriage. These
})rcsents were given in order to conciliate those rela-
tions who controlled the girl. Origiiiating merely in
this desire to gain the good will of her family, the
custom graduallv became more and more firmlv estab-
lished until it h.ul come to be a matter of course to
give presents, and finally a matter of necessity if the
young man hoped to gain the consent of the girl's
family to his proposal of marriage. The presents at

* Marriage among the Pawnees. American Anthropoli)gist,
July, 1891.

HMI

mm^^

THK STORY OF TIIK INDIAN'.

first were pr()l)jiljly small in vuliio Jind munbor, but in
a case where there was more than one suitor for the
o-irl there would naturally be a rivalry on the ])art of
the families of the youiio; men, and each would strive
to hc-1]) the cause of its own member by i)resenting
j;ifts more valuable than those offered by the other.
Young men of standing and position would put forth
every eifort to make the families of the women they
loved presents as handsome as had their fellows who
had married, and all this would have its inlluence on
families who counted marriageable girls among their
number. Parents and relatives, at iirst receiving these
as evidences of friendship and good will, would at
length come to regard them as their due, aiul would
ultinuitelv insist on receiving them as a condition of
giving their consent to the marriage proposal, think-
ing themselves injured and even defrauded if they
were not forthcoming; so little by little the matter
of obtaining a wife grew to be regarded, not only by
the suitor aiul the girl's father, but by the tribe at
large, as an actual purchase of the woman.

Among the Pawnees, however, these presents were
not always, nor, I believe, even usually, regarded as a
price paid for the girl. They did not speak of them
otherwise than as presents made to her family. Often
the gifts were not decided on until after the marriage
had taken ])lace. A father would give his daughter
to a young man of a good family or one who was well
to do without making any stipulations as to what the
presents should be, and a Pawnee young man might
say, " I am going to marry such a girl. It is left to
me what I shall do afterward." (Tut ki'tta wi i'ri la
tits ka, hVt kut.)

A young man did not expect to marry until he had

A MARIUAOE.

4:1

come to 1)C ail expert hunter, and so was able to sup-
port a wife. Tliis gave him standin.u^ with the parents,
who woukl naturally be more willing to give their
daughter to a good provider. Nor did he usually
think about taking a wife until he liad been on the
warpath and either brought baek some horses or had
struck an enemy. Tiiis would give him favour in the
eyes of the young women.

When a young man had determined that he
wishes to marry he perhajjs courted the girl in the
nsual way, or, if he had no fondness for any particular
young woman, he spoke to his parents and announced
to them his wish to take a wife.

In case the boy had merely decided that he wished
to marry and had not himself made a choice, his rela-
tions talked the matter over and selected a girl. This
luiving been done, some old man was called in, and
asked to conduct the negotiations between the two
families. Usually, if it was convenient, the man
selected for this purpose— at least among the Skidi—
was a priest, one greased with the sacred fat of the
bulfalo. Such a num's influence with the family he
was about to visit would be stronger than that of a
common man, and he would be more likely to receive
a favourable answer.

On a chosen day this old man and the suitor would
prepare themselves for a visit to the lodge of the girFs
father. The old man would paint his face with red
earth, while the boy would also paint himself, put
beads about his neck, and don his best attire, his
finest leggings and moccasins worked with quills or
beads. Both then put on their robes, hair side out,
and late in the afternoon, about four or five o'clock,
they started toward the lodge where the girl lived,

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

1 It.

m 1'^

• t

(If

tlic old niiin lending the way, the young one following
at his heels.

Of course, when the people of the eamp saw an old
man followed bv a voun<j one, both wearini^ their robes

^ t, CD ' O

hair side out, walking through the village, they knew
that a proposal of nuirriage was going to be made, and
usually a pretty shrewd guess could be hazarded as to
the lodffc thev were "[oing to. If the father of an v jjrirl
suspected that his lodge was to be visited, he would
hurry home, to be there to receive the ambassador and
as])irant.

When the men reacluMl the lodge they entered and
squatted by the lire just to the right of the door, ready
to take their departure if they were not nuide welcome.
If the father was at home he would s])eak to the old
man, who would explain to him the object of the visit.
^JMien the visitors would go out of the lodge and return
to that of the boy's family. Jt might sometimes hap-
l)en that there was more than one marriageable girl in
the lodge, and then, in the absence of the father, the
oldest person in the lodge would inquire of the old mini
which girl it was whose hand was sought, and after
learning would ask the visitors to go home and return
later.

The same evening they would come back to the
lodge and find many or most of the girl's relations.
Those who were nimble to come have sent word that
they agree to whatever the others may decide on.
These relations have thorouji^hlv discussed the vouns:
man, his social standing, his skill as a hunter, his
prowess in war, and his general desirability as a mem-
ber of the family, and have determined what answer
shall be made to the olTer of marriage. When the two
men enter the lodge the second time, if they sec a robe

A MARRIAGE.

or bljinket spread for tlicin to sit on, tlicy know tliat
tliey are welcome and that tlic answer will be favour-
aijle. If no seat is provided they go away at once ;
their proposal is declined.

After speeches have been made by the girl's rela-
tions, one of them takesai)ii)e and lights it. lie prays,
blows a few puiTs to the sky, to the earth, and to the
four cardinal jmints, and then oilers it to the old man,
saying, as he docs so, '' 1 hope that you will take pity
on us, for we are poor." This seems to be at once an
expression of good feeling and a hope that the young
people may get along well together — may h.ive no
trouble after they are married.

The old man smokes first, and then the relation
offers the i)ipe to the suitor, who does the same, both
saving, Ln'ica i'ri. When this has been done the two
rise and retire, the old man taking the robe or blanket
on which they have been sitting as his present from
the girl's relations. On returning to the young man's
lodge they report to his relations assembled there the
result of their visit, and satisfaction is expressed at its
favourable outcome. The presents for the girl's family
are now contributed by the boy's relations. They con-
sist of l)lankets, robes, guns, horses, aiid so on, and are
usua ken on the same night to the lodge where the
girl lives y one of the young man's relations — his
mother, aunt, or sister. On being received they are
distributed among the relations of the girl.

Early next morning the young man is invited for
the first time over to the lodge where the girl lives.
Before he arrives the girl has combed her hair, })ut on
her best clothing, and is sitting on a robe in the most
honourable seat, far back in the lodge. When the
young man comes in, a cushion or pillow is placed by

TIIK STORY OF TlIP: INDIAN'.

■ 'i '

' w

I ■

if!

I Mi

tliu side of tlu' ^^iil, juul liiT futlicr or soiiit' of Iut re-
liitions tells liiiii to sit down h\ licr side. 'I'liu lmtI
tlicii rises, tiikcs u disli contaiiiiiig food, Avliicli slit*
pliict'S lu'fore liiin, and tliey both cat. 'I'lie ^nrl is now
his wife, and ho stays licrc and niakos his lionie in her
i'allu'r's lod^^i! for a time, usually until he luis snnio
children and fuels that he can set up a lodge of his
own.

It was not infreciucntly the case, where a pirl had
two or three suitors that her parents might wish her to
marry one, while she preferred another. Very severe
measures were often resorted to in order to force li(;r
to marry the one chosen by the family, and unless she
could succeed in runnin<jr awav with the man of her
choice she usually had to yield to the family inlluence.

Vouno;er sisters were the potential wives of the
husband of the oldest <^nrl. Jf a nuirried man died,
his wives became the wives of his oldest brother.

A word or two with regard to the position of the
wife in the household may not be out of })lace hero.
The Indian wonuin, it is usually thought, is a mere
drudge and slave, but, so far as my observations ex-
tend, this notion is wholly an erroneous one. It is
true that the women were the labourers of the camp ;
that they did all the hard work about which there was
no excitement. They cooked, brought wood aiul wa-
ter, dried the meat, dressed the robes, made the cloth-
ing, collected the lodge poles, packed the horses, cul-
tivated the ground, and generally performed all the
tasks which might be called menial, but they were not
mere servants. On the contrary, their i)Osition was
very respectable. They were consulted on many sub-
jects, not only in connection with family affairs, but
in more important and general matters. Sometimes

A MAKUl.Uii:.

wonu'ii were even mltiiitUd to the coimcils and spoke
tlierc, ^iviiij,' their lulviee. This privih-j^e was very iiii-
usuui, uiul was j^n-aiited only to wotiim who had yvr-
forined some deed whieh was worthy (»t' a man. This
in praetiee nu-ant tiiat siu' iiad kilUd or eoimtid coup
on an rnemy, or had been to war.

In ordinary family eonversalion wonu-n did not
liesitate to intcrriiiit and correet their iiushands when
the latter made statements with whii'h tiu-y did not
iv^vvv, and the men listened to tlu-m with rcsprctl'id
attention,thou<,diof eourse thisdei)en(U'd on tin- stand-
ing of the woman, her intelli^'ence, etc. W hih' their
lives were hard and fnll of toil, they yet fonnd time t(»
get together for gossij) and for gami)li!ig, and on the
whole managed to take a good deal of i)leasure in life.

mmmiF

HMPWnil^

CHAPTER IV.

SrnSTSTENCE.

.\ii

!'i

TiiK life of tlic Iiuliiin wiis in sonic respects a
lijird one, for the question of food was an evor-i)resent
anxiety with him. We are tohl in boolvs much about
the Indian's improvidence, and it is frequently stated
that liowever abundant food might be with liim to-
day, he took no tliouglit for the needs of tlie morrow.
Such statements are untrue, and sliow but superllcial
observation. 'J'he savage (k)es not look so far ahead
as does the civilized man, but still the lessons of exi)e-
rience are not wholly lost on him. lie remembers
past hardshi})s, and endeavours to i)rovide against
their recurrence ; aiul these i)eople wei'e rather re-
markable for their foresight, and for the provision
which they were accustomed to make for the future.
The tribes which tilled the ground, dried the corn,
beans, and squashes which they grew, and usually had
enough of these to last them until the next crop was
harvested ; others which were not agriculturists gath-
ered at the dilTerent seasons of the year, when they
were ripe, great quantities of berries and roots of va-
rious kinds, which were dried and stored in sacks made
of parlle(!he, or of woven grass or reeds, until sucli
time as they should be needed. This surplus food was
not jilways carried about with them, but was hidden
in caches, which were visited from time to time as the

SUIiSISTKXCK.

4i)

food was roqiiiivd. Tlie Iiuliuiis of tlu* j)luins who
dcpiMuh'd for siibsisti'iu'e larj^H'Iy on the bulhUo, dried
great stores of its lUvsli against times of need, and this
dried meat — which wouhl keep for an imk'linite h'liglh
of time — was iiseil to make tiie milrilioiis jiemmieaii.

.Many of tiie mountain trihes mach' annual pil-
grimages to tiie plains for hutValo meat — eiioosing
esj)i'eially the season at whieii the animals wei'e fat
and the skins in good eondilion for lobes — and in this
•way secured a portion of their winter's su})j)Iy of meat ;
but the mountain tribes depended largely on tiie llesli
of mountain game — deer, elk, wild sheep, and goats —
whieh they iuinted persistently and with great success.
The meat of these animals was dried.

Still further to the west the Indians, as summer
drew on, began to gather along the streams up whieh
the salmon run to spawn. V>y means of traps, gall's,
spears, and dip nets, they took each season enormous
(juantities of fish, whicii were sun or smoke dried and
l)aeked away in r((c//cs. 'I'iiese were rough W( oiU'n
boxes made of "shakes'" — rough jilanks or slabs
M'edged oil' from the trunk of the white cedar or ar-
borvita\ For protection against the ravages of wild
animals or insects, these cac/iC'i were usually ])laced
high up in the branches of a tree. Jn this position
they were, of course, visible to the })asser-by, but were
never disturbed, the ])roperty of othei's always being
respected. Only in the case of people actually ])er-
ishing of hunger would anything be taken from such
a cache, and in cases of su(;h extremitv the disturber
was welcome to what he needed.

Finally, when we reach the coast, we find a people
who lived principally on the products of the sea, but
who still were at home iu the mountains. These were

Till-: STORY OF Till-: INDIAN.

i:!

-■■t

canoe pc()])lo, and in tlieir frail barks, burned and
^\ilittkHl out of tlie trunk of a ^roat codar troo, tlioy
made long journeys to tlio lisbing banks for lialibut,
or to tlie rocks for fur seal and sea lion, or followed
the sea otter or cbased and killed tlie wliale. Follow-
ing up the inlets or the mouths of the i-ivers, they ea})-
tured the salmon with the two-pronged sjx'ar, or, an-
chored in some narrow channel, swept the long iisli
rake through the shoals of herring, taking them by
canoeloads. When the delicate oolachan, or candle-
fish, came to the beaches to s})awn, they gathered them
for their flesh and oil. In the spring and autumn,
Avhen the coat of the white goat was long and shaggy,
they climbed the steep mountain sides to its home
and killed it for its meat and for the fleece, which the
women Avove into warm and durable blaidvots. In
summer, they watched at lakes and in little nu)untain
parks to shoot deer, or coasted along the seashore and
killed theui when they came down to the beach to feed
on the seaweed, or again in winter, when the snows
had driven them thither from the thick timber, whi(;h
is their usual haunt. Most of this work was done by
the men. The women gathered berries and dried
them for winter use, and collected dulse aloi^g the
shore.

Further to the south there were different ways
among the different tribes, depending on the various
l)roducts of the territory iidiabited. The Indians of
^'evada and Utah cai)tured great numbers of jack
rabbits by surrounding them, and drove the locusts
into pits. The coast Indians of southern California
subsisted largely on shelliish. Some tribes made a
bretul of the dried sweet acorn of the California oak.
In the central region pine nuts, and further south the

! !

SUBSISTKNCK.

boaii of tlic mesquito, scrvi'd the same purpose. 'J'lio
J'ueblo tribes of Mew ]\Iexieo and Arizona cultivated
tlie ground, raising corn by means of irrigation, wliich
they liad ])ractised from time immemorial. The des-
ert-inhabiting Mavajo and Apache still eat the fruit of
the cactus and roast mescal roots.

Although the larger anim.als were the most impor-
tant source of food supply, it must not be supposed
that the smaller ones were neglected. Wild cats,
beavers, skunks, prairie dogs, ground squirrels, rats,
and all birds were eaten when they could be had, not
alwavs from necessitv, but because they were good for
food. These were taken in traps and snares, and usu-
ally by the boys.

The Indian made the most of what his country
l)roduced, and in time of abundance strove to lay up
l)rovisions against the day of want. AVhen the buffalo
were plenty, he rioted in slaughter and feasted fat, and
dried much meat and tongues and backfat. If the
run of salmon was large, he caught all that he could,
and his drying scaffolds far up the billside shone red
against the background of green ; if the berry or the
root crop was jilentiful, the women worked hard to
gather and dry them in great quantities. For a day
mioht come when no butTalo could be found, when
the salmon would not run up the river, and the root
or berry crop would fail. l>itter exi)erience had taught
the Indian that he might at any time have to face
starvation.

The Indian recognises that his whole life is a con-
test with Nature, that all her powers are opjiosed to
him. lie realizes his own feebleness, and sees that to
procure subsistence he must overcome Nature and
wrest a livelihood from her unwilling grasp. He can

TIIK STOUY OF TIIK INDIAN.

5 1.

only ^iiiii the victory and be succossfiil in liis uiuUt-
takings if ho lias tlio liclp of some stronger jxnver,
some force which is liiirher tlian Xatnre — whicli rules
it — so, literally, " h)okiiig through Nature u}) to J\'a-
ture's (Jod," ho ai)i)eals to his god for assistance, and
to win the Deity over to his side, and also to show
how much in earnest ho is, he olTers sacrifices of food,
tobacco, ornaments, a lock of his hair, or a bit of his
flesh. Since without food life is impossible, all impor-
tant hunting ex])e(litions were preceded by religious
ceremonies more or less elaborate, which had for their
object the propitiation of the Deity and the obtaining
his help. The Pawnees, before they started on the
liunt, devoted several days to religious observances —
fasting, praying, and dancing, under the direction of
the i)riests, jisking for assistance in the hunt, for
l)lenty of buttah*, and, as always in their prayers, for
long life, health, and strength. AVitli them also the
first deer or bulTalo slain in the hunt was always sac-
rificed to the Deify. In the same way the Uees, ^Ian-
dans, and (Jros Ventres of the village prefaced their
hunts by religious ceremonies. Among some tribes
no general observance of this kind took i)lace, but he
who acted the chief })art in the work of tra})ping the
bulTalo sjjcnt the night before he entered on his task
in prayer, and the priests — those whose petitions to
the Deity were supposed to be most efficacious — de-
voted much time to olTering up prayers for the suc-
cess of the drive.

The enormous multitudes of bufTalo that fed on the
plains and in the mountains of the West made it iisu-
ullv an easy matter 'n modern times for the tribes to
supply themselves wi h food, and yet the buffalo were
not sure to l)e always at hand. T'hey were as nomadic

srnsisTKNri;.

as the Iiidiiins, aiul sometinuvs moved iiwiiy from tiny
fjivcn region aiul did not rea]»pear for montiis, so tliut
the food stored u[) by the people becjime entirely ex-
hausted. Tiiey were then obli<^ed to turn tiieir at-
tention to the smaHer game, antelope, deer, and elk,
which they could kill about their cami)S, but these
aninuds could never be relied on for support. Tor
this reason, it was the practice among many of tiio
bulTalo-eating tribes to send runners out to nuike long
journeys to iind the buil'alo, and, by watching them,
to learn in what direction they were teiuling,and then
to report as quickly as possible to the cam}).

When it is remembered how abundant aiul how
unsuspicious of danger the bulTalo were in the early
days in the West, it might be inuigined that the
vigorous and active Indian — a footman who was al-
ways on the march, and nearly as swift and enduring
as the bulTalo — would, unck'r ordinary conditions, have
been able always to keep himself supplied with food,
even though he carried oidy a l)ow jiiul arrows as his
weapon. Hut such a conclusion would be erro-
neous.

It is difficult for us who dwell among the civilized
surroundings of this age to realize how severe was the
struggle for existence of primitive man in America;
what the condition of the Indian was in the days be-
fore the white man had come, bringing with him fire-
arms which kill at a distance and horses which can
overtake the bulfalo. To comprehend this, we must
stop and think, trying to move ourselves some centu-
ries back to the time of the stone age, when the peo-
ple, wholly without knowledge of metal, slew with
weapons made of flint the wild beasts on which they
subsisted, and moved from place to place on foot, car-

Till-: STORY OF TllK INDIAN.

m I

, : ., . j

rving their siini»l(' possessions on tlicir backs or on
the (log travois.

Ill those (hivs the seciiriiiij of dailv food must luive
been a dillieult matter for many triln'S, and the lavini;
up of any provision for the future doubly iiarih The
great beasts, so easily slauglitered by tiie rille, or even
by the iron-lieaded arrow shot into them at a eloso
range by a mounted man, must iiave been widl-nigh
invulnerable to tiie stone-headed arrow. The tough
thick hide, covered with a close mat of fur, presents
resistance to tlie keen edge of a modern knifi', and
couhl have been pierced only by the best arrows of
that day, shot at very short range; ami if the careful
hunter crept close enough to the butfalo, aiul his arm
was strong enough to drive the blunt-headed shaft
deep into the body, the great beast, iri'itated l)y the
prick of the puny dart, instead of running away, might
turn to flight the one who had injured it. Often, no
doubt, the man kept out of sight and shot arrow after
arrow into it, for there was no sound to alarm it, and
it could not tell wheiice the hurt came; but let the
animal learn the cause of this pain, and the man was
in great danger; for a wounded bulTalo was a terrible
antagonist, swift of foot, resistless in power, only to
be avoided by the exercise of that cunning which
has ever iriven man the mastery over the brute. In
that age of stone the contest between wild man and
wild beast was not an unequal one. The beast was
the stronger, the (piicker, the better armed of the two.
Man's advantage lay idtogether in his intelligence.

Traces of the fear in which these great brutes were
held may still be discovered in the tradilional stories
of certain tribes, which set forth how in those days,
before men were provided with arms, the bulfalo used

SUMSISTKNl'l-:.

.>i)

to cluiso, kill, and oat the pcnplo. Siioli tak'S, still
given with coiisidcrahlo detail ainoii.^ the lilacixlVct,
the Arikaras, and otiicr trii»i\^, show very ck-ai-ly how
irivativ the hiilTalo were droadctl in ancient times, and
such I'ear could hardly have arisen save as the result
of actual ex})erience of their i)ower to inllict injury
and death. If the huH'alo had always been found to
be the stupid but timorous animal that he was in the
later days of the great herds, stories such as these
could not have gained currency or persisted, and it
seems clear that all of these traditional stories have
some basis of fact and are in some measure founded
on experience. La])se of time, the changes -which
would inevitably result from the transmission of a
tale through succeeding generations of narrators, and
an imperfect comprehension of the relations of things
may, in a measure, have twisted and distorted the fact
or the experience; but if it is possible to trace the tale
far enough, the fact and the circumstance will always
be found.

Lonir before the time of the bow and arrows there
must have been a day when for these men — the an-
cestors of the Indians whom we know — the capture of
such a great aninud as the buffalo was an impossibili-
ty, a thing altogether beyond their power to compass,
and not to be contemplated : a time when the food of
the people consisted of the fruits of the earth and the
small animals; those which were so numerous, so
timid, and so lacking in craft or wariness, that even
feeble man, armed only with his club — the first
weapon — could circumvent and kill them. In some
of the tribes there still persist traditions of those
earliest times, when arms — the bow and arrow, the
shield and lance — were unknown, and many of the

Till-: STOUV OF TIIK INDIAN.

pnictices of tliose ancioiit times have t'lulmvd oven to
the present (hiy. 'I'lie lilaekfeet tell of a time when
tliey liad no arms and lived on roots and herrii-s, and
detail early nietln^ds of capturing animals; and the
C'hevenne traditions <;o back to the davs when thev
subsisted altogether on rabbits, the skins of which
furnished also their clothing. Some of the tribes oi
the central i»lateau in our own day secured their food
of rabbits and grasslu)})pers by simi)le methods which
are very old ; and in the ways in which the women of
all tribes gather berries and roots, and in which boys
with long slender whi[)S kill birds, we see the survival
of practices which have a great anti'iuity. 'i'he in-
vention of the bow and arrow — the traditional history
of which is given by nuiny tribes — nuirked a tremen-
dous step in advance of these early methods, and yet
even this invention still left the Indian but metigrely
equipped for the struggle with the great beasts which
were furnishing him with food at the time that he
was discovered by the white man. Old men still tell
of liearing their grandfathers sjieak of the complaints
made by their ancestors of the dilhcnlty of obtaining
food in primitive times; of how often they were hun-
gry, and how constantly they were moving about to
tlnd regions where animals were more numerous and
more easily to be approached. Often such statements
come out incidentally in the course of conversatioji,
or are made to explain certain wanderings of which
tradition speaks.

Since his armament was so incfllcient as to make
the capture of game at all times uncertain, and since
the etTort to secure it was often attended with danger,
it must early liave occurred to the Indian to devise
for capturing food in quantity some method which

■iiB

SL'IJ.SlSTKNli:.

i><

sliould 1)1' nioro certain und iiioro safe tliaii i]\o how
and arrow. Tht' problem wna lon<^ ponderi'd over, and
the first steps toward solvin;^: it, iiodtnibt, took the di-
rection of improving; tiic traps and snares which they
employed for the capture ol' the smaller animals, and
the evolution of the pen with the exteniled win,i;s, into
which the bulTalo or antelope were brou^dit and eai)-
tured whole herds at u time, was slow. On the other
hand, in those early, as in more modern days, the In-
dian's whole stiuly was the animals amon;,^ which he
lived. Constantly en";a<a'd in watchin"^ them and try-
in^' to learn how they wotdd act under particidar eon-
ditions, he knew their habits better than he knew any-
thin;,^ else. lion_n' before the traps, so suceessfidly used,
were devised he must have known of the existence in
butl'alo and antelope of that curiosity which made the
trap feasible, and which to the animals i)roved so self-
destruetive.

Scattered along' the flanks of the Ivocky ^Mountains,
and at many points of the great central ])lateiiu, nuiy
be seen to-day the remains of the ancient traps in which
the Indians once took the buffalo. Most of the tribes
gave up their use many years aijo — soon after they ob-
tained horses and learned to ride — and all the more
l)erishal)le ])ortions of wings and enclosures haye long
since crumbled to decay ; but in various localities in
Montana and Colorado the plains are still marked by
the long lines of heaped-ui) stones ^vhich formed the
arms of the chute that guided the doomed animals to-
ward the clifT or the slaughter pen.

The common method * of taking buffalo, by those

* An accoiuit substantially like this was jjiven by me in
Scribncr's iMaguzinc for September, lti\)'3, entitled The Last of
the Buffalo.

TIIK STORY UF Till-: INDIAN.

f'i

tribes wliicli iiiliabitiMJ tlie brokt-ii coiiiitrv close to tlio
iiKiiintiiiiis, was to build a V-shaped chute, the arms of
v/hich extended far out on liu- jtraiiie and eaiiie to-
gether at the top of a elilT, or a cut bank, over which
the IjiilValo were expected to fall. If theclilT was hi;^h
luui vertical, the fall killed orcrijjpled most of the ani-
mals, but if it was only a cut bank of moderate height,
an enclosure was built at the f(»ot of the bank below
the angle of the; V, from which the animals coidd not
csca])e after they liad made the jtlunge. We may im-
agine that originally they attempted always to drive
the bulTalo over high cliirs, where the fall would kill
them, and that the eiu'losure was u later development
from this.

The building of one of these traps involved a great
deal of labour and took a long titne, but after it had
been completed, it was practically indestructible, and
with annual re])airs would last for generations. A spot
was chosen beneath a cotivcnient cut baidv in a vallev,
usually near timber. With their rude tools they (-ut
down the trees, and then dragged them near to the foot
of a bank, and liere the wall of the pen was raised, logs,
rocks, poles, and brushwood being used to make a wall
six or eight feet high, and so close that it could not be
seen tlirough. Xo s})ccial pains were taken to make it
strong, for it was quire certain that the imprisoned buf-
falo would not dash themselves against it and try to
push tlio wall down — although if at any point it was
low, some verv active animal might trv to leai) over it,
or if there were large open spaces in the wall, one of
them might attempt to burst through it; but there was
no danger that they would surge against it in a mass,
and so break it down and escape. While the pen was
being built some of the women and boys were busy on

sriJSlSTKNCH.

> )

tlio prairio abovo, briuLiiiii^ — often from a fjroat di.s-
tuiico on llicir l)acl\.s or on tlic do^ travois — stones to
mako the rock i)iles for the cliiite. These were heapi-d
U[) in piles four or live fi-et liiuii and six or eii,d»t in
cireuinferenee, and were distant from eaeli otlier from
twenty to tiurty feet. If tiie country ^vas not stony,
clusters of hushes were sometimes set up in tiie ^'ronnd
in j)Iaee of the heaps of stones.

Modilieations of tliis form of ti'aj) were used by the
Chevennes, wlio eonstru(.'ted tiieii- i)en in a valley on a
bulTalo trail whieh was in use. It was sometimes built
in a grove of trees, both for convenience in getting the
logs ami poU'S to form the walls, and because the staiul-
ing trees served as su})ports for the wall,or, again, they
built it under a cut baid\, whieh thus constituted a part
of the wall, and the wings stretched out on the level
valley. Near the entrance to the i)en, men lay hid to
close it after tlie animals ha<l gone in, using i)oles and
brush, or poles alone, over whieh tiiey hung robes. The
northernmost of the three tribes of the IJlaekfoot con-
federation, and also the Plains Crecs, both of whom
lived at a distance from the mountains and in a coun-
try whieh was rolling rather than broken, made their
pens on level ground not far from timljer, where they
secured the logs and brush for the walls. As else-
■whcre explained, the bulfalo passed down the chute in
the ordinary way, and at the angle of the V ran onto a
fenced causeway, or bridge, which led them by a slight
incline up to the level of a low point in the wall, from
■which they jumped down into the pen. AVheii the
last of the band had entere(l, men, hidden near by,
quickly put poles across the low places in the wall and
hung robes over them so as to make the wall api)ear
continuous. Traps similar in most respects to these

{•,{)

Till-: SToliV OV TIIK INDIAN.

,: I

were used by soino tribes for takiii;^ uiibldpc in rntlur
ri'ci'Mt timi'8; ho lalclv that I iuive seen rciiiaiiis of thu
wooden \vin;;M and (orral in nnrtbwesti'rn I'tab, in I bo
country ran;,''t'il over liy I'lcs, Cbcyennes, and Arapa-
boeM. 'I'bc i'dackft'i't also raptured antelope in tlio
same way, bnt instead of a pen at llie aiiijle of the V,
ibey du;^' a lar;;e ])it tbere, wbieb tbey covered witb :i
loose roof made of .slender j>oles, t\vi;^s, and ;;rass.
\\ ben tbe antelojK' ran over tbe pit tbey broke tlironub
tliis roof, and falling,' into tbe pit were unable to ;^^'t
out a'Min, and were easily secured bv the men who
were bidden near at baml.

It mav naturally enou<'b be asked liow tliese wild
animals were induced to enter tiiese traps in wbicb tbey
were destrove(l in su(di numbers. It is usually stated
that tbey were driven into tbe cbtite and down the lane
betwei'U tbe arms of tbe V, and so burried toward tbe
an^de where tbey made tbe fatal plun',^! into tluf })en
or the pit ; but this is by no means aji exact statement
of what happened. Ilotli bulTalo and antelope are by
nature curious animals, and it was tbe Indians' kiu)wl-
edge of tbis cbaracteristic and tlieir ability to ]day
npon it tbat enabled them to entrap tbeir prey. JiCt
us see liow tliey went to work on a inint.

When tlu! bull'alo were lu^ar one of tbese old-time
traps — wbicb were called "fallin<i; places" by some
tribes and are spoken of to-day as "pounds" — tbe
ilrst step toward capturincj tbem was to induce tliem
to come witliin tbe dividinLr arms of tlie V. In eacli
tribe tbere were certain men wlio were esj)ecially skil-
ful in tbis work of decoying tbe bull'alo, eitber because
of tbeir great experience or by reason of some sui)er-
natural i)ower wbicb tbey bad. A lilackfoot migbt
be tbe ])ossessor of an I-nis'kim — a bulTalo stone —

.SL'USISTKNCI-;.

(il

wliicli jjiivi' liirn, tlir()ii;;lj some force inlicrciit in itself,
till' power to call the htilTalo; the inemlxi" (»r another
trihe nii.u'ht have soiiu' very jtosverfiil scei'ct licl|M'r,
which would aid him in his nndcrtakiii;,'. W hatcver
the power he possessed, or however he had ohtaine(l
it, the man who was to lead the i)nlTalo spent a ;r(»od
part «»f the ni;>dit hel'oro he made his attempt in
))niyer, invoking' the aid of the special p(»wer on which
lie relied. In some eases hi' called in the priest to
liclp him in his prayers, but (piite as often he praye(l
alone, hurnini; sweet grass and sweet j)ine to draw his
lielper to him, and also ])nril'yin<( himself by jiassin;^'
liis arms and body throu;!:h the perfumed smoke, and
])y ^rraspin;; handfulsof the smoke and rubbing it over
Ids body, arnis, ami legs. The members of the camp
knew what was to take }»laco the next day, and re-
frained from going into or even near the lodge of the
man who was thus engaged in j)rayer.

Karly in the morning, long before tlie dawn, the
lilackfoot num arose from his short sleep and ])re-
pured for bis undertaking, lie neither ate nor drank,
but spoko earnestly to ids wives, bidiling them remain
within tbe lodge until bis return, and telling them
that tliey must burn sweet grass to tbe Sun and pray
for bis success. Then be left the lodge and climbed
the blulTs toward tbe uj)per prairie where the arms of
tbe cbuto were. Some men went fortb naked, others
carried a dress nnule of the entire skin of a buiTalo,
tbe bead ami horns arranged like a buffalo bead, while
the rest of tbe skin Inmg down over tbe wearer's back.
He marcbed steadfastly along, speaking to no one, for
lie felt tbe solemnity of tbe occasion. When tbe caller
set out, all tbe men and bovs and manv of tbe women
of tbe camp followed bim up on tbe prairie, aiul by

(12

Till-: STORY OF Till-: INDIAN.

twos jind threes lay down bt'liiiid tlie })iles of stones
which formed tlic arms of the eliiite. The ealler i)ro-
cceded on his way until he had come near to jome
lierd of bulTalo, whose position luui hcen ascertained
tlio niglit before. When lie was lu'ar enouirh to be
seen, yet not so close tliat they could clearly distin-
<;uisli what lie was, he began to act very strangely.
Ho raised himself up so as to be in i)lain siglit, then
ducked out of view, stood u\) again and whirled round
and round, hid again, and then walked to and fro,
half concealed. This luul not gone on long before tiie
nearest bull'alo began to stare at the man, looking for a
long time in the endeavour to make out what the mov-
ing object was, and then taking a few steps toward
him to get a nearer view, 'i'his attracteil the atten-
tion of others of the herd, and they too began to look
and to move a few steps at a time after their fellows.
When the caller had succeeded in fairlv attracting tlie
attention of the nearest butTalo, he began to move
slowly away in the direction of tlie chnte He still
continued liis antics, and perhaps also called to the
buITalo, JIdO, hoo^ hoo^ iiti'uh^ ini' iih, ini' uh. As he
retreated the buffalo followed, at first walking, but
graduall}', as they became more excited, going fasrer,
trotting a little and then stojiping to look, and at last
breaking into a gallop. As they increased their speed,
the man changed his pace from a walk to a trot and
then to a run, and so they went on, at last at top
speed, into the chute, the man running on down be-
tween the piles of stone aiul the buifalo in hot pursuit.
As soon as they were well within the chute, however,
the attention of the bull'alo was distracted from the
num Avho was leading them. For now, from behinci
each pile of stones which they passed, on either hand.

sL'nsi.sTKXci:.

' t

people bogjui to riso up and slioiit and veil and wave
their rohes. Terror took tlie place of curiosity ; the
bull'alo wished to escape from tiiese iu)isy and terrify-
inx enemies ; the way ahead was clear and they rushed
on, heads down and tails up, at an ever-increasiuir
speed. Yet still as they ran tiie people ap})eared just
behind them on both sides, aiul the bull'alo constantly
became more friirhtened and ran faster, until at length,
the angle of the V reached, they ])lunged over the clilf
and down into the pen.

From the cam}) in the valley all the i)eoi)le who had
not gone up on the prairie to hide behind the rock
l)iles had gathered in the neighbourhood of the i)eii
to await the event of the hunt. And as they sat there
waiting, they could hear the first faint distant shouts
of those who were frightening the herd, and then the
yells coming nearer and nearer ; then came the dull
roar of the bulTalos' tread, and then iit once the leaders
came i)itching, rolling, falling over the cli!f into the
pen. All now rushed to the walls aiul climbed up on
them so as to still further frighten the imprisoned ani-
mals. They grunted at them, making a sound not
unlike the grunt of the bulfalo, and by their cries aiuI
gestures strove to keep them from pressing against the
walls, or from trying to climb over them. The scene
within the pen, although as yet no attempt had been
m;ule to kill any of the bull'alo, was already one of
bloodshed, 'i^he buffalo, mad wilh terror, raced round
and rouiul the narrow enclosure; the strongest dashec^
against and knocked down the weaker, or with their
horns threw them out of the way to clear a path for
themselves; calves, yearlings, and those injured by the
fall were thus knocked down and trami)led on by their
stronger fellows, or were tossed aside bv their horns.

<;4

Tin-: STORY OF TIIH INDIAN.

■t I

II 1 :
■ %

It Wiis ji case of j)aiii(' in a crowd ; only the strou'i^-
ost reniaiiK'd uniiijiuvd. The Indians were alrcad}
s\varniin<j^ back from the prairie to act tlieir part in
the slaughter, hut before they reached the pen, u <rreat
number of tlie smaller bulTalo had been killed by their
fellows, and only the largest and lieaviest Avere still
racing around the pen. These the men shot with
their arrows as they jiassed them, and soon all were
down, and the women entered the pen to butcher the
slaiji. The bull'alo that were not dead they desi)atched
by breaking in their skulls with mauls. I'he meat
after being cut up was tran.sported to the camj) and
the pen was cleaned out, the skulls and bones being
carried oil" to a little distance. And now the trees and
bushes and drying scaiTolds about the camp were red
witii great sheets of meat and white with strips of
backfat, which soon began to turn brown nnder the
hot sun and in the warm dry wind. On the ground
lay many hides over which the women were working,
jireparing thorn for rol)es, or more completely tanning
them for lodge skins or for clothing. Every one was
busy and every one was happy, for there was plenty
in the camp, and all day long the feast shout was
heard. The fear of hunger no longer opjiressed the
people.

The capture of the bulTalo was the work of the
men, while the gathering of the fruits of the earth
fell within the duties of the women. Among the
agricultural tribes of the North, sucli as the Mandans,
Iices, River Crows, Pawnees, and in ancient times the
Cheyennes and some bands of the Dakotas, the women
prepared the soil, and i)lanted and hoed the corn, beans,
and S(piashes. They gathered the crop and dried it.
The women, too, dug the wild roots and gathered the

srnsisTKXcio.

(15

Ijcrries wliicli formed so important a i)art of the tribal
provisions. For collecting roots they provided them-
selves with a stick about three feet K>n;,% curved, and
sharpened at the point, shapi'd, in fact, somewhat like
a sackiu*,^ needle. Tiiis was used to nnearth the roots.
"When berries were abundant, they visitetl the patches
where they grew and tore olf the branches of the
shrubs, which they then Ijcat over a robe spread upon
the ground. The berries so gathered were di'ied in
the sun, and, as has been said, stored in sacks for win-
ter use. Sometimes, l)efore they were thoroughly dry,
they were pressed together in cakes to be eaten with
meat like bread, but more often the dried fruit was
stewed and eaten with boiled dried meat. 'J'he fruit
of the wild cherry was pounded so as to crush the seed
and then dried.

In many places along the llaid<s of tlu' mountains
the camas root grew in such abundance that it formed
an important item in the subsistence of some tribes.
After being dug by the women, it was subjected to a
cooki))g process before being dried. A large pit was
dug, in which a fire was built and kept nj) until the
earth at the bottom and sides of the pit was thorough-
ly heated. Then the ashes were removed, and the i)it
lined with grass and tilled with camas roots. :\Iore
grass being laid on top of the roots and a little earth
on the grass, a hot fire was built on top of the whole,
which was kept up until the mass was cooked. This
process of cooking distilled from the bulbs a brown
sweet sirupy fiuid, which was eagerly sought for by
the children, who greedily sucked the grass with
which the pit was lined. After the bulbs had been
so cooked, they were removed from the pit and spread
out in the sun to dry, and afterward i)ut in sacks.

Till-: STUKV OF Till'] INDIAN.

SoiiR'tinies Ijofore Ix'iiiL!; 'Irictl they wcvo i)rossc(l to-
gctlu'i' in cakes to form a l)rcii(l. Many other roots
Avcre eaten.

Many of tlie mountain tribes peeled tlie bark from
('(M'tain ti'ees at the pi'ojier season of the yeai', and
L'atliered the soft sweet inner eoatini; whicii lies next
to the wood. Some tribi's, like the Knteiiais and
Flatheads, colleeted si)i'uei' i;iim and ehewed it.

Amonijf the tribes which lived aloiii; the larirer I'ivers
flowinjj: into the l*a(.'ilic (Jeean the irreat event of the
year was the arrival of the salmon on their jonrney up
the streams to their sjiawning grounds. Jt was dur-
ing this run that the Indians secured provision for
tlie year, and to these })eople the salmon stood in just
the relation tiiat tlu! buiValo did to the Indians of tlie
plains. Sliortly before the time when tiie salmon
might be expected, the tribes gathered at their lish-
ing grouiuls, each band or family making its cam})
near its own lishing stands. Tiiese stands, or favour-
able i)oints for taking the salmon, belonged each to
some family, and the right to occupy eacli was handed
down from father to son. No family trespassed on
the staiul of another, or, if this was done, it consti-
tuted a cause of oU'ence so serious that bloodshed
might result. On the different streams dilferent con-
ditions nnide a varietv of methods necessary to take
the fish, some of which bave already been mentioned.
It is impossible to describe all of them.

]\!any salmon taken on these Western rivers arc
captured by means of the dip net. This method is
still practised all along the rocky banks of the Fraser
Kiver, in J^ritish Columbia. The river, for the great-
er portion of its course through the mountains, has
cut for iticlf a deep steep-walled channel, and the

o
H

2
J

to
to

*'|| ' w^mmtmmmw^

!■

iif 5

SUBSISTENCE.

salmon on tlicir journoy up tlio stroiuii f(»llow tlio
sliorc, swininiiiii; close to tlie rock.s, wlicro the curroiit
is least strong, and they are njeasnral)ly lielped by the
eddies. Alon<jf the roeky shores, at t'avonrable points,
s!nall ]>latfornis, supported on horizontal jioles, are
built out over the water, on which the iisherinan
stands. He holds in liis lumd a large scoop or dip
net, the pole of which is ten or twelve feet long and
the hoop from two to two aiul one half feet in diam-
eter. Tiie net about the hoop is rather deep, and at
intervals of six or eight inches is fastened to small
wooden rings, which run freely on the large hoop of
the net. A long string, passing from the back of the
net up the pole to the man's hand, serves, when pulled
taut, to spread the net around the hoop and keep it
open; but when this string is loosened, tlie small
rings by their weight run together at the lower part
of the hoop, and the net becomes a closed bag.

When this im})lement is to be nsed, the Indian,
standing on the platform, holds the pole or net in
both hands, the string being drawn taut and held
on the crooked little finger, and with a slow steady
motion he sweeps the net with the current. If he
feels anything strike it he loosens the string, the
mouth of the net closes and it becomes a bag which
holds whatever may be in it. It is then brought to
tlie surface and the fish taken out, killed, and tossed
on the bank. Simj'le as it is, this is a most effective
means of taking these fish, and it requires very little
skill to manipulate it. I recollect that the first tim.e
1 ever used this net, I took five fine salmon in six
sweeps. The salmon, nosing its way up the stream
through the turbid waters, cannot see the man above
it nor the approaching net, and knows of this only

TIIK STUUV OF TIIK INDIAN.

wlu'ii its iioso touches the mcslios, iuul as soon as it
striivos tlicso, tile net closes al)()Ut it.

Tlie Indians In-^j^in to f^atlier at tlie rivers sonic
time before tiie lisli mal\e tlieir a])|)earanee, and soon
after tlieir arrival the dryin<^ sealfolds are repaired,
and the platforms, ■which may have been dama<,'ed by
the high water of the spring freshets, are put in order.
The men, while kee[>ing always a good lookout for the
coming of the salmon, hnnt a little at this time, and
the ^vomcn are busy getting berries.

Just as with certain tribes of the Indians of the
])lains the bulTalo hunt was preceded by religious
ceremonies and the first animal taken was sacriliccd
to tlie Deity, so with these Indians of the Pacific slope,
religious ceremonies and sacrilices were iierformed at
the oiiening of the salmon run. The arrival of the
first salmon of the season was eagerly looked forward
to, and its capture celebrated with solemn rites. 1'his
first fish belonged not to its captor, but to the Deity,
and as soon as caught, it was taken to the chief priest
of the tribe and delivered into his keeping. A young
maiden was then chosen, and, after being stripped
naked and washed, cross lines of red paint, represent-
ing the meshes of a net, were drawn over lier body and
limbs, and she was then taken down to the river, where,
while prayers were made for a great I'un of salmon,
and for success in the fishing, the paint was washed
oflf. This ceremony was to make their nets fortunate.
Further prayers were made, the salmon was offered to
the Deity, and then cut up into small pieces, one of
which was given to each person present. At the con-
clusion of these religious rites, all were free to enter
on the fishing.

The omission of this ceremony with the accompany-

srnsisTKXcK.

«;<)

iiii,' saoridpo was a sin wliidi was sure to hrijiir l»ail
luck, and anioiiij oiu; of tlio FrasiT ll'iwr trihcs tlicro
is a story wliidi sliows how suoli sacrilc/^'o was pim-
islu'd. .Fiist Ik'Iow tlie canon on tliu Frascr, and near
tlio town of Vale in British Cohimbia, a «;r('at roci\ or
small island rises from the middle of the river, divid-
iii^^ the current into two streams of nearly e(jual vol-
uini'. It is said that lon^,' a<;o this rock was not there.
(Jnce, when the people <;athered for the lishinfjf, they
were very hnn;,n-y. All their dried tish had been eaten,
their hunters had had no luck, no berries had f,n'own
that year. It was a hard time, and the })eople were
starvin,l,^ 'i'hey camped here, looking for the coming
of the lish, which shouhl bring them plenty and con-
tentment. It was a woman who caught the (irst lish,
and she at first intended to take it to the ])riest, as sluf
(Might to have done, but she was verv hunirrv, and
instead of doing this she determined to say nothiiif'
about the matter and devoured the lish. For this
crime the Deity changed her into a great rock and
threw it into the middle of the river, where we see it
now, to stand there always, as a warning to tlio peo-
ple. Some believe that this woman, though changed
to stone, can still think and feel, and that each year
she is obliged to bear the pain of seeing re-enacted all
about her the events in which, as a child, a young girl,
and then as a mother, she had often taken part. Each
year, too, she sees her people change their habits, each
year perceives their numbers growing less, and the
land that was once all their own passing into the
hands of strangers to her race and to the soil.

Silently and with the firm endurance of her race
she has borne her punishment, but the end of her suf-
ferings is at hanJ. Already the thunder of the white

TllK STORY UK TMK INDIAN.

iiniirs bliistin*,' lia.s shaken licr, alivudy tlic scroaiii of
tilt! locomotive and the rattle of padille wheels have
Kouiuletl all ahout her. SoJiie day an eiiteri»risiii;; eii-
f^iueer, who wishes to improve the navi<,'ation of the
Fraser, will introduce u charge of dynamite into u
crevice of the rock, and the poor sinner, whose penance
1ms surely hy this time expiated her crime, will pass
from the sight of men and at lust find rest.

CHAITKR V.

HIS IHNTINCJ.

Tt Wiis stnnrnor — tlio tinu' of ripciiiii!^' berries — and
tho women were l)iisy ^'iitlieriii^ tlie fruit aiul <lrviii<;
it for winter use. Kaeii niornin^jf little eonipanies of
women, youn*; and old, mounted their horses and set
out np or down the stream or over the hlulTs to tiu;
prairie, to the plaees where many berries <;row. With
tiiem went some man — a husband or a close relation —
who kept watch for them, while they worked, sittin<(
on tho top of some hif]fh hill where lie ccmld overlook
tho country, and ^nvo timely warninf; if any enemy
should appear. Down in tho brush the women were
soon busy, breakin<j: otT great branches laden with ripe
fruit, and beatinf^ them over a robe spread on the
ground, until many had been gathered and ])ut in the
parfleches and loaded on the horses, and all the while
they talked and joked and laughed.

Sometimes they might come to where a bear had
been gathering berries too, and then the laughter and
the talk would suddenly cease, and perhaps they came
out of the bushes a good deal scared, and that day
gathered no more fruit. Sometimes from the top of
the hill where he sat, the man might signal that he
saw people coming, and then all the women would
quickly gather up their things and mount their horses
and hurry toward the camp. And if the people were

^%. ^ . n%.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

<Sf

V .v\,% #^

c?-

:/.

(/.

1.0

I.I

.25

IIIM IIIM

12.0

1.4

1.6

c^J

,J^ % '^^

/!S«

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

L1>'

%^ .^ "%

L<f

Cp-

'7..

Till-: STUKY OF Till-: INDIAN.

I ■

enemies they eliiised the women, anil pei']mi)s caiiglit
luid killed some.

Other women went to the ])iit('hes where the eunuis
grows, and with their long crooked root diggers un-
earthed great piles of the roots. The pits were dug
and tires huilt in them until the dirt all about was hot,
and then tlie pits were lined with grass and wliite sage
and the roots flung in and covered up. Then tires
were built over the pits, and old women, staying by
them, kept them burning for two or three days till the
roots were cooked. Then came the uncovering, the
gathering of the eager children to suck the sweet sirup
from the grass and weeds, and the spreading out of
the roots in the sun. AVhen these, too, were dried and
stored away for the winter, many sacks and parlleclies
of roots and dried sarvis berries and bull berries and
pounded choke cherries were stored in the h)dges.

For some time the buffalo liad not been close by.
'Vho people had eaten all their fresh meat, but they
still had plenty of good dried meat aiul backfat and
tongues; so they were living well. Kow, the buffalo
had come again, and two young men, scouting about
over the prairie to see what they could discover, had
found a large herd by a little stream in a wide flat
with hills all about it. They had not frightened
them, nor tried to kill even a single heifer, but had
gone carefully arouiul them, and hurried back to the
camp to tell the chiefs what they had seen ; for these
were young men of good sense, whose hearts were
right.

When the people heard that the buffalo had been
seen, they all talked about it and wondered what the
chiefs would order to be done and all hoi)ed that it
would be decided to chase clie buffalo. When the

.,. ,11

HIS HUNTING.

cliiof k'anu'd tliiit this food was near, lie asked the
priests what tlieir oiiinion was al)oiit tlie matter — uliat
ought to be done. And when the priests said that
tiie signs Averc riglit, and that tliey would liave good
luck, the chief gave the order that the next day they
should chase the bulTalo and trv to kill nlentv of them.
Then everybody was glad.

►So the peoide made ready for the killing on the
morrow. All the running horses were brought in and
tied up, and the women had their jiack horses close by
the camp, where they could catch them in a little
while. Every man had looked over liis arms to see
that his bowstring was right, that all his arrows were
straight and strong, and the points well sharj)ened.
Some young boys, who were now to make their first
hunt, were excited, and each was woiulering what
would happen to him, and whether he would kill a
bulTalo, and was lioj>ing that he might act so that his
father and his relations would jtraise him and say that
he had done well.

Many of the men prayed almost all night, asking
that they might have good luck ; that their horses
might be sure-footed and not fall with them, and
might bo swift to overtake the fastest of the cows ;
that they themselves might have good sight to aim
the arrow, and that their arms might be strong to
draw the bow, so that they would kill much meat.
They smoked and burned sweet grass and sweet pine
to purify themselves. Other men, having told their
wives to call them before the first light appeared in
the east, slept all through the short night.

So now, the day of the buffalo killing had come.
This morning every one arose very early, and when
the time came, all the men, except those too old to

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

t;:

riilc and the few so poor tluit they Imd no liorse.s, rode
up on tlie pruirie before the day broke. Jiaek in the
camp, many smokeholes were sending up sliowers of
sparks, and a red glow came from some open door-
ways; but in front of tliem the prairie was dark, and
only toward the cast could the hills and buttes be seen
dimly standing against the pale rim of the horizon.

The eastern sky was beginning to grow light, and
the stars dim ; the air Avas cool with the chill that
comes before the dawn, and there was no sound ex-
cept the dull murmur of many hoof beats upon the
prairie as man after man rode up and joined the
others, until almost all wore there and they started
awav.

Some of the men have saddles of antel()})e skin,
padded with hair, but most ride without saddles, and
each horse is guided by a long rawhide line, one end
of which is knotted about his jaw, while the other
drags on the ground. The meii wear only breech-
clouts and moccasins, and carry their bows and arrows
in their hands. The few who use guns have the pow-
der horn slung over the shoulder and a few bullets
wrapped in the breechclout, but each one carries half
a dozen balls in his mouth.

At first the hunters ride scattered out over the
prairie without much appearance of order, some of
them lagging behind, but most of them well up to
the front. Yet none pass a line of men, the soldiers
of the camp, who have the charge of the hunt; for
to-day these soldiers are the chiefs, and everything
must be done as they direct. Every one must obey
them, and he who does not will have a hard time.
They will whip him with their quirts, and, if he shall
do something very bad, may destroy his property, cut

I i

HIS HUNTING.

i >

up liirf loilgo, break the poles, and do much liarni ;
hut everv one knows liow lie ou<;ht to live, and if he
docs not observe the laws of the camp, he knows what
he may expect. So the soldiers ride ahead of tlie
hunters, slowly, keeping back those who wish to hun-y
ahead, giving time for those who are late or who have
slow horses to catch up, so that, when the word shall
be given to charge the bulTalo, each one may have an
equal chance to do his best.

Thev ride on slowlv, in a loose bodv, some hun-
dreds in all, going no faster than the soldiers who ride
before them. Now and then, men who have been late
in leaving the camp come rapidly up from behind,
and then settle down into the slow gallop of the lead-
ers. By this time the sun is rising and Hooding
the prairie with yellow light ; the grass, already turn-
ing brown, is spangled Avith dew and glistens in the
sunlight. The sweet wild whistle of the meadow lark
rings out from the knolls, and all about the skylark
and the white-winged blackbird are hanging in the
air, giving forth their richest notes. Xow and then a
jack rabbit or a kit fox is startled from its bed in the
grass by the trampling of the horses, and dashes away
diagonally to right or left of the line of the advance ;
or a family of antelope, surprised in some hollow, race
to the top of a neighbouring hill and stand there,
looking curiously, until the rush of horsemen has
passed out of sight.

The men do all they can to spare the horses that
they wish to use for the running. Some trot along
on foot beside their animals, resting an arm on the
withers ; others ride a common horse, and lead the
runner until the moment comes for the charge ; or
two men may ride a common horse, one guiding it and

TliK STOKV OF TIIK INDIAN.

?';

J j

1
1

■J

1 '

|^,j

the otluT Icadiiiuj tlic two runners. Mile after mile is
j)asse(l over at a slow gallop until the sjtot where the
hulTalo were feedin.i,^ is reaehed. Here the coinj)any
is halted, aiul two or three of the soldiers creei) foi--
ward to the crest of the hill and peer over. 'J'he huf-
falo arc still there, feeding or lying down, unsuspicious
of danger.

A sign from the chief of the soldiers warns every
one that the time for the charge is at hand. Tlic
common horses are turned loose and the runners
mounted ; bows are strung, aiul arrows loosened in
their quivers. Men aiul horses give signs of eager-
ness. The horses, with i)ricked ears, look toward the
liilltop, while the movements of the men are «|uick.
At another sign, all mount aiul ride after the soldiers,
who arc jiassing over the crest of the hill. All press
to the front as far as they can, and iu)w, instead of
being in a loose body, the men ride side by side, with
extended front. As they descend the slope toward
the buffalo the pace grows faster, until at last the
swift gallop has become almost a run, but as yet no
man presses ahead of his fellows, for the soldiers hold
their places ; until the signal for the charge shall be
given all are under restraint.

In the Hat before them, scattered over the level
land like cattle in a pasture, the buffalo still feed, un-
disturbed. (Ireat bulls are cro])ping the grass on the
outskirts of the herd ; yellow calves run races about
their mothers, or impatiently bunt them with their
heads as they try to nurse ; and the young cows and
bulls are scattered out over the plain. All are intent
on their feeding, and as yet none have noticed the
dark line swee})ing down toward t'.iem. In a moment,
however, a)l this is changed : the juffalo begin to raise

JUS HUNTING.

i i

thfir lifiuls and look, uiul thou— eitlicr rcco.s^iiiziiig an
enemy, or believing that other bulTalo, fri^irhtened. are
coming toward tliem— the herd, panie-fitrieken, tiirnd
jiway in a headlong llight. As they start, the leader
of tiie soldiers gives the signal so long looked for.
All restraint is removed. The line breaks, all sem-
blance of order is lost, and a wild race begins, a strug-
gle to be first to reach the bult'alo, and so to have
choice of the fattest animals in the herd.

Each rider urges forward his horijc at his best
speed. The fastest soon draw away from the main
body and are close to the herd ; the hindermost buf-
falo are passed without notice, and the men press for-
ward to roach the cows and young animals which lead
the band. The herd is split in twenty i)laces, and
soon all is confusion, and horses and butlalo race
alonir side by side. Over the rough billowing backs
of the buftalo the naked shoulders of the men show
brown and glistening, and his long black hair Hies
out far behind each rider, rising and falling with his
horse's stride. The lithe bodies swing and bend, and
the arms move as the riders draw tlie arrows to the
head and drive them to the feather into the flying
beasts. It is hard to see liow those who arc riding in
the thick of the herd can escape injury from the toss-
iuf horns of the bulfalo, now mad with fear, but the
ponies are watchful, nimble, and sure-footed, and
avoid the charges of the cows, leap the gullies, and
dodge the badger holes. In a few moments the herd
is turned, and all are once more racing back over
the flat from which they started ; but all along where
they Inive passed, the yellow prairie is dotted here and
there with brown carcasses, among which stand at
intervals buffalo with lowered heads, whose life is

m^^mKfimn^

mifmmm

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

i! !

Ililll

cl)biTij> away witli tlie red current tliat pours from
tlieir wouiuls, but whose f,darin<,' eyes and erect still*-
ened tails sliow that tliey are ready to fight to the last
])reath. Perhaps during the chase some hunter has
driven his arrow entirely tlirough a buffalo, and the
same shaft, after passing through one animal, may
have fatally wounded another. Now and again some
active daring young fellow may have performed some
feat of bravado as to s})ring from his horse onto the
back of a buffalo and ride it for a while, at last kill-
ing it with his knife.

It is not long before most of the buffalo have been
slain, and the men come riding back over the ground
to care for the animals they liave killed, each one
})ickii>g out from the dead those which belong to liim.
These are known at once by the arrows which renuun
in them, for each man's shafts bear his private mark.

Meantime he women and children left in the camp
have not been idle. As soon as all luid eaten, and even
wliilo the men were starting out, the women began to
catch and saddle the pack horses, and to fix the travels
to them. Some of the larger dogs, too, were pressed
into the service and harnessed to small travois. Each
woman set out as soon as she was ready, following the
trail made by the hunters. Most of the children ac-
companied their mothers, the younger ones carried
along because there was no one to leave them with,
the older boys and girls taken to help in the work, or
going for the excitement, or because there would be
many good things to eat Avheu the buffalo were being
cut up.

In this throng, which marches steadily along over
the prairie, there is no pretense at discipline or order,
such as prevailed among the men. It is a loose mob,

"^8

HIS IIUNTINTt.

fitruiif:^ out over a mile of pniirio, carolcs^*, noisy, iiii-
piotectt'd. It would be easy, if ii little party of t'licniies
were Ivinj; hidden behind the neighbouring; hills, for
them to dash down and take a dozen or tifty sealps.
But the thouj^dit that this nii-rht happen oeeurs to no
one. The women ehatter and laugh with one another
in shrill tones, or seold at the ehildren or at the horses ;
the shouts and yells of the little boys, who dart here
and there in their play, are continuous ; the shrill
neighing of lost colts aiul calling mares, mingle with
the barking of the dogs and the crying of babies, the
whole making a concert of high-pitched sounds which
is almost deafening. All the women are riding, with
their little children on their backs or on the horses
before and behind them, or pcrhai)s inclosed in wicker
cages built like the frame of a sweat house on the tra-
vois, and only those lads go on foot who are old enough
to have escaped from woman's care, but are yet too
young to hunt.

When the head of the disorderly procession reaches
the crest of the hill above the killing ground a change
is see.i in the actions of the women and children.
They call out joyfully at the sight of the carcasses,
and hurry down to the flat. As the women recognise
the men, scattered about skinning and cutting up the
buffalo, each one hurries toward her husband or near
relation to help him. The boys, excited by their sur-
roundings, catch the spirit of their elders, and shoot
their blunt arrows against the carcasses.

Indians are expert butchers, and it does not take
long for them to skin the bulTalo. The hide is drawn
to one side, and the meat rapidly cut from the bones ;
then the visceral cavity is opened, the long intestine is
taken out, emptied of its contents, and rolled up ; the

S(l

tin: story of tiik indiax.

t,i:

I ,

painich is opojicd, ciiipticMl, and ])ut usldo witli tlio
livrrand licari; tlio skull is sinasiicd in anil the drains
removed, and, of course, the tongue is saved. N'ery
likely tlie liver is ent up on the spot, and, after being
sprinkled with tliegall, is eaten raw; women and chil-
dren tear oil and eagerly devour himj)s of the sweet
wiiitc fat wliieli clings to the outside of the intestine.
All are jolly and good iiatured, tliough luird at work,
and the children ])lay merrily about. 'J'he old and
steady pack liorscs gra^-.o near at hand, while tlio
voujijjjer and wild ones are made fast to tlie horns
of tiie dead bulTalo. The camp dogs gorge tliemselves
on the rejected portions, and gnaw at tlie strip})ed
skeletons. When work on a bulTalo is finished, the
hide, hair side down, is thrown on a horse, on this the
meat is ])a('ked ; the ends of the liidc are then turned
up, and the whole is lashed in place by lariats. 'I'hen
the party moves on to look for another bud'alo killed
by an arrow ])elonging to their lodge.

Before long, boys, girls, and women, young and old,
are clind)ing the blulfs toward the camp, leading the
laden pack horses, which not only carry heavy loads
on their backs, but also drag as mnch more meat on
the travels behind them. On reaching camp, the loads
are taken olT, the hides are folded np, and some of the
meat is cut into thin sheets and hung on the drving
scaffolds, while the choicer parts are jdaced in the
lodge. When this has been done the hides are spread
out on the ground, and the women, aimed with llesli-
crs of stone or bone, begin to cleanse them of all the
flesh, fat, and blood that clings to them. All through
the day the loads come into camp, and the scene is
one of bustle and hard work. The men who have re-
turned sit in the shade and talk over the incidents of

2 J

ms m'NTiNr,.

tlu' liiml ; iidiifiriitioii is cxprcssrd for tin' skill ami
Idjivcry (if one iiiaii, whiK' uiiotluT, to wliom some iih-
Biird accident has liappeiieil, is unniereit'uliy lan^'iied
at by liis fellows. Jf some umisiial biilTalo — one that
is spotti'd or roan— has l)een killed, its skin is tiie cen-
tre of a ^M'oup of the men, atul the priests and doctors
are asked what this portends, whetiier it i)romiaes good
hick or ]}ad to slayer and camp.

As evening (h-aws on the feast shout bcLriiis to bo
lieard from all sides, the women lay aside their tasks
and i)re])are the eveninf? meal. The feasters <:;ather in
various lod.Lres, and jn'ople are constantly passin<j; to
and fro. At one or two i»oints witiun the circle of
the lod<;es, some vounj^ men and bovs liave built lires
in the o[)en air, and before each of these a g^reat side
of fat bulTalo ribs is roastin<i:, propi)ed upon two <j:reen
Cottonwood sticks, while the lads lounge about the tire
waitin.ijj for the meat to cook. When at last it is done,
they shear ofT the loni,^ ril)s one after another, and with
knives aiul strong white teeth strip from the bones the
jui'cy flesh.

Every one rejoices in the abundance of food. Song
and dance and light-hearted talk are heard on every
side, and so the night wears on.

Such was a day's hunting when were killed the
buffalo, the main support of the peoi)le. The smaller
aninuds were necessarily hunted in a different way,
and deer, elk, sheep, and antelope were stalked and
shot singly with arrows. If skins for war shirts are
needed by a chief's wife, she tells her liusband and ho
kills them.

In the morning early, while the first meal is being
eaten, the chief directs a young man — his son or a
servant — to go and bring in certain horses. The boy

■■■pi

THE STORY OV TIIK INDIAN.

'■I

I'' t

;!!

Imstily swallows liis food, ainl, pickiiinr np a i-iwhide
rope, starts olT for tlic l)liilTs, wlu-iu'c Ik* soon ri'tiirns,
ri(lin<jf ono horse- and Icadiiit,' another, hotli of wliidi
lu! tics before; tl»o lod<;e. Kntoriji<4" the (h)or, he soon
uj)j)ears a^^ain with a lii^di-ju'aked saddle and a square
of hulTalo skin, whicii lie straps on the led horse, and
before this operation is ended, the ehief eonies out
e(iuijtj»ed for the hunt, lie carries an old-fashioned,
crooked -stocked niuzzle-loa<ling rille, which has evi-
dently seen long service, for its i)rown wood is split and
bound up with thon<Jts of rawhide put on green and
allowed to dry. lie slips the arm into a fringed buck-
skin gun case as he comes out. His balls and patches
are carried in a Hat beaded buckskin j)ouch, wliich
hangs over the shoulder bv a broad belt of dressed elk
skin ; the powder is in a st()ppered cow's horn hanging
from the other shoulder, while the caps are in a little
circular rawhide box, hung from the neck by a buck-
skin string. Hanging from his right wrist by a buck-
skin loop is bis quirt, the liandle of polished elk liorn
white as ivory, while the lash is of i)laited rawhide.
Hitching his robe up over his shoulders. Three Suns
clandjers into the saddle and rides oil' toward the
bluffs, while the younger man springs lightly on liis
barebacked horse and follows. Neither liorse wears
a bridle, but knotted about the lower jaw of each is
the usual long line of rawhide by which it is guided.

The distance to the bluffs is short, and as the two
ride along, Three Suns tells his companion that he
intends to go to Elk River to look for mountain
sheep, and explains where he expects to find them
and how he proi)ose8 to hunt them. The bluffs are
reached and climbed, and the men gallop swiftly over
the few miles to the river.

' i

HIS IIL'NTINC;.

b'S

Sciittcrt'd over tlio yellow i)rairie tli;it tliey arc
traversiiii; are many feeding antelope, whieh move a
little way from their i)ath as they advanee, running to
tiio top of the nearest hills, where they stantl and
stamp and snort until the men have passed them.
Hero and there too, they see, sini^lv or hv twos and
threes, bulTalo hulls, but no considerable herds. Be-
fore long they draw up their horses by the side of a
ravine, not far from tiie top of the blufTs that over-
look Kliv liiver.

lieaving the horses here, throwing down the lines
so that ti. ■ shall not wander, the two men crept
stealthily down to a point of the blulf which com-
manded a view of a portion of the river bottom, and
here sat down and looked over the country for game.

]5efore them lay a wide prosj)ect of the valley, gi-ay
with sage, and interrupted only here and there by
copses of green willow growing along the river and
the wet ravines. At intervals rose groves of tall cot-
tonwoods, whose straight gray trunks were crownetl
hv masses of shining silvery leaves. Away to the west,
the broad curves of the great river shone like ribbons
of silver; in front of them its smooth waters were
pale green, while to the east it was swallowed up by
the gray bluffs, which there drew close together.

Scattered over the valley were many groups of
antelope ; down among the willows, near the river's
bank, a band of elk were resting, and a few black
dots were seen in the distance — bulls feeding or at
rest. Near a rough rocky point of the bluff, less than
half a mile above them on the bottom, were a dozen
animals, whose white rumps made them look like ante-
lope, but which were gray in color and bore great
curving horns. These were sheep. It was now the
7

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN',

, '\

iiiidillo of tlie nioniinff, ami before long the aiiimuls
iiiiglit be expected to climb the rocks uiid lie down to
rest during the wiirnicr hours of the day. Already
they were slowly feeding toward the blulfs.

Tliree Suns spoke a few words to his companion,
pointing to the sheep and the rocks above tliem, and
then the men cautiously withdrew to Avhere their
horses had been left. ^lounting, they rode quick-
ly to a i inc nearly above where the sheep were,
and there dismounting, left their horses in a hol-
low well out of sight. Three Suns threw aside his
robe and iiis gun cover, and descended the ravine
toward the valley, ^vhile the boy crept to the leeward
side of the bluif's i)oint, until he liad reached a posi-
tion where, concealed by great stones and some lo v
cedar bushes, he could command a view of the ridge
which ran down to the vallev. Here, witli a sheaf of
arrows in his right hand and a bow in his left, he
Avaited and watched.

Meantime, Three Suns, hidden from view by the
high ground on either side, had gone down to the level
of the valley, where it was crossed by a narrow gulley,
three or four feet deep, from tlie mouth of the ravine
— in spring a water course for the melting snow, but
now dry. Along this Three Suns made his croucliing
way. Creeping on hands and knees when the banks
were low, or sometimes flat on his face, as he passed
some little tributary water course which gave a view
of the bottom, before long ho had reached the point
where the sheep should be, and choosing a spot where
a thick bunch of rye grass grew on the edge of the
bank, he raised his head and looked through the
close-set stems. At first only the ground near to him
was visible, but as his view became wider he saw, only

Ills iirxTixcx.

a sliort distanco away and between liiinsclf and tlio
blufTs, two fat rams fiuietly feeding. He drew back a
little, crossed his two resting sticks, took a long, care-
ful aim, and lircd. One of the rams fell, while the
other jumped, looked about for a moment, then
trotted out of sight. Drawing back. Three Suns
loaded as quickly as possible and then again raised
his head, but there Avere now no sheep in sight. lie
crept on toward the i)oint where they had been, and
on asceiuling a little rise of ground, saw them slowly
walking toward the ridge, but too far away for him to
hope to reach them with his rifle. AVithout attempt-
ing further concealment, therefore, he walked toward
the ram that he had killed, and saw the group of
sheep, after stopping for a moment to look at him,
turn and begin slowly to climb the bluiTs.

All this the boy had seen from his hiding place,
but, thougii he saw that the sheep had started up the
point, he did not certaitdy know that they would
come within the range of his arrows. He waited
therefore, as it seemed to him, a long time, but at
length he could hear the sound of stones rolling and
the tread f the sheep's feet and their low calls to one
another as they climbed, and presently one after an-
other came in sight close to him, until nine stood
huddled together, looking back at Three Suns. Then
the boy drew his bow and sent a keen arrow through
a mighty ram, just behind the shoulders, and the ram
gave a great bound and rushed down the hill, and as
he disappeared, another arrow struck a second ram in
the throat, and he too rushed down the hill. By this
time the sheep had seen the boy, and all dashed away
before he could shoot another arrow, but he went
down the hill, and following the blood splashed upon

aaBHHHBBH"

,,||""«""|" •wr^mfmmmmmmmmmm

I'l 'i

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

the stones and dirt and grass, found first the sheep
that he had shot in the throat, and then the otiier.
Then he was ghid, and he cut up the meat and went
for the horses and took them down to Tliree Suns,
and they loaded tlie sheep on the horses and started
to the camp.

•I

■'•|

1 11

y «:

■\'

CHAPTER VI.

THE WAR Til AIL.

Indians arc at all times prayerful and careful in
their religious observances, but they are never more
scrupulous about these matters than when starting on
a jouniey to war. Realizing that they are risking
their lives, they im})lore divine assistance and olTer
in sacrilice the things which they hold most dear,
giving u]) even })arts of their bodies— slices of flesh cut
from arms, breasts, and legs. A })riest is asked to
superintend the medicine sweat, which they take to
purify themselves before starting out, and while they
are in the sweat lodge, he smokes the sacred pipe and
prays for these men who are about to expose them-
selves to danger, asking that they may return in safety
to their people. While they are absent he will con-
tinue to pray for their success and welfare, and at in-
tervals will ride about through the camp, shouting
out the names of the warriors, so tliat they may not
be forgotten by the people.

The Pawnees were obliged to offer a special burnt
offering on starting to war. This was the flesh of the
first deer or the first buffalo killed on the journey.
Until this sacrifice had been made, it was unlawful for
them to eat any fresh meat. The flesh of the ante-
lope or of the elk might not be used in this sacrifice ;
to offer antelope meat, or to eat of it before the sacri-

II {,.

' i;

t' ■

■1

; 1

■ 1

TIIK STORY OF THE INDIAN.

lice lijid been niiule, mus to commit a sacrilege iiiul in-
vite disaster. Under ordinary circumstances tlie llesli
of the antelope was freely eaten, and the Pawnees had
a great respect for this species as a strong animal and
one possessing great endurance. It had not, however,
the sacred character ]»ossessed by the bullfalo and the
deer.

If a war party passed any place which is sacred,
presents were olTered to propitiate the aiumals or
s])irits wliich gave the place or object its sacred
character.

In their warfare two quite diverse methods were
pursued. In the secret raids made for the })urpose of
taking horses, the parties usually were small, and re-
lied for success altogether on their craft and adroit-
ness. On the other hand, when an attack was to be
made on an enemy's camp and a battle was in jiros-
pect, the parties were often large. In the earliest
wars, when horses were few, these jiarties traveled
always on foot ; later, the large expeditions were
mounted, but the small horse-stealing parties still
went on foot. Two obvious reasons suggest them-
selves to explain this slow and laborious method of
travel : Footmen can pass through any region with
much less risk of detection than if they were mounted ;
and, further, men on foot cannot be tracked, while
it is usually easy to follow the trail of horses.

If enemies are believed to be near, a war party
travels by night, and at all times strives to move by
hidden ways, through ravines or low jilaces, traversing
the country without leaving any sign of its passage.
Thus it is not likely to be detected, except by the
unfortunate accident of stumbling upon a force of the
enemy. Against such misadventure it is endeavoured

..I

THE WAIl TKAIL.

to provide by n tliorough system of seouting. If the
juirty consists of luilf u dozen or more men, one or
two are always sent aliead of the main body to look
over the country and report if it is safe to go on.
Such scouts move with the utmost caution, and as-
ceiuling to the tops of the highest hills, scan the
country spread out before them with extremest care,
and if the coast is clear, signal their comrades to ad-
vaiuH). Sometimes such scouts may be disguised — as
in the case of the Pawnees to represent wolves — or
they may trust wholly to their craft and skill in con-
cealing themselves, taking 'advantage of each hill,
hollow, and ravine, until they have reached the posi-
tion from which the observation is to be taken.

Certain elevated points in the debatable ground
lying between the territories claimed by dilt'erent
tribes were regularly resorted to for this purpose.
Such a point was the summit of Cone Butte, in the
Judith Mountains, in Montana. Here I once came
upon a shelter, built of flat slabs of the trachyte
which forms the mountain's mass, large enough to
contain a single man lying down, and overlooking a
wide stretch of country toward the Missouri. At that
time this region was a great buffalo range, .and to it
]Mackfeet, Gros \"entres, Crees, Snakes, Crows, As-
sinaboines, and other tribes of the Dakotas used to
resort for meat and skins. The stones which com-
posed the front of this shelter were worn smooth by
use, and the ground where the watchers had lain was
deeply covered with pine boughs, some quite fresh,
and others old and dry, and others still in all stages
of decay. These boughs had been broken from the
little pine trees that grow on the mountains' crest to
make an easy resting place for the watching warrior.

•■» -—P—— tPWWip^

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

• i'

The men chosen to do tliis scouting are persons of
experience; from childhood they have been frmiliar
with the prairie and all its signs. Thus they do not
content themselves Avith looking for peo})Ie only,
'i'hey scan the stream valleys to see if among the dis-
tant animals feeding in the bottoms there are any that
look like horses. The horizon is examined for a tell-
tale column of smoke, and the movements of the birds
and animals are noted. If wolves are seen sneaking olT
and looking back, if buffalo or antelope are running, or
if the birds are uneasy, the scout draws his conclusions.
But if, after a careful examination of his surroundings,
nothing suspicious is seen, he signals to his comrades
that it is safe for them to come on, and they join him.

As soon as the party has reached the enemy's
country or suspects that enemies are near, still greater
precautious are taken, and they rest and sleep during
the day and travel at night. Meantime all are under
strict discipline, and obey without question the orders
of their leader. lie is the one among them of most
experience — their best warrior; no other has so much
at stake as he. All are risking their lives, but he is
risking reputation as well as life. His responsibility
is heavy, and he feels it, and is constantly planning
for the success of the expedition and praying that
wisdom and acuteness may be given him. He some-
times has a certain religious pre-eminence over the
others, for to him have been intrusted by the priests
certain secrets of religious ceremonial. Ilis young
men obey him implicitly, treat him with the greatest
respect, and so far as possible lighten his labours by
carrying his burden, relieving him of work in camp,
mending his moccasins, and in other ways making
things easy for him.

t /

THE WAR TRAIL.

ijgff'

On his part ho is thoughtful of the wt'li-bt-ing of
his young men. On starting out, he is careful to see
tliat the loads whioli they carry are not too licavy for
their strength, and all tiirough the journey lie tries to
arrange that they shall not be exposed to danger.
When any occasion of unusual responsibility arises, it
falls upon the leader to do the work ; if any act in-
volving great hazard must be performed, he under-
takes it. lie is always ready to risk his life rather
than to allow his young men to go into danger. Thus
the members of a war party work well together.

During their journey the warriors are careful to
o!)serve all the religious forms. It is true that those
whom they have left beiiind them are praying for
their safety, and that in their behalf the priest fre-
quently unwraps his sacred bundle and sings his sa-
cred songs, but they themselves do not neglect the
ceremonies in which they have been instructed. At
night, when they camp, the first duty to be performed
is to smoke the sacred pipe and to offer up prayers.
Not until after this has been done is the tire kindled
or food eaten. If the party has with it a sacred bun-
dle, which is always carried by the leader, it may be
opened during the smoking and the prayers, and its
contents reverently viewed. The short time which
elapses between eating and going to sleep for the
night is devoted by the younger men to rest and to
tlie repairing of moccasins and clothing which has
worn out, and by the leader to an exhortation to his
young men. He talks to them about the dangers to
which they are exposed, and urges them to be stead-
fast — to have a single mind. They must not rely for
success on their own efforts, but must seek help from
the Deity. Without his aid they can do nothing;

i^^

0:i

TlIK STOliY OF TIIK INDIAN.

tluu'cforc tln'y must irnploiv liim to i)ity and koop
tlu'iu, reinL'iuhi'i'iiig alwavs tlu'ir own wciikncss. Tlu'v
must be considcM'utu of otlicr liviiii,' crt'iitures; like ns,
tlio.sc were niade bv (Jod, and hu watclies over and
cares for them as lie does for us; therefore thcv
should not be neeillesslv destroyed. Besiiles <dviii<^
this <]^ood advice, the leader tries to see that each man
before he sleeps makes a s])ecial prayer for help. Jiu-
foro starting out in the morning the leader always
makes a prayer and sacrilice, and this should l)e done
by each one of the party. So they pursue their jour-
ney until a village of the enemy is discovered.

The camp was i)itehed in the valley, and from the
lodges nearest the stream could be heard the soft mu-
sical rattle of the water as it hurried along over the
smooth stones of the shallows. Above and below, the
high bluffs came close together, but just here the val-
ley widened, and on one side of the little river the
steep hdls scored by deep ravines stood a long dis-
tance from the bank, making a broad flat. At the
lower end of this was a grove of timber.

The bulTalo were close at hand, and in the morn-
ing all the men had gone out to chase them, and the
women had followed with the travois. All day long
people had been going and coming, to and from the
killing ground, bringing in great loads of meat and
skins. Women were still cutting up flesh and hanging
it on the drying scaffolds, and spreading out hides on
the ground. The camp was red with meat, and all
were happy. In every lodge there was plenty. From
all sides sounded the feast shout, the noise of drums,
of singing, of laughter, and of talk. Sometimes, dur-
ing a lull in the tumult of the camp, the sharp bark

r,"

;.■:■

■fl

mmmmmmmmmmmmfmmmfm

TIIK WAIl TUAIL.

of ii royoto or tlio lioarsor howliiii,' of tlic \>\'^ wolves
^iitherc'd about sotiio carcass, could be heard from tlio
ui)i)er prairie, and wlieJi the camp do^'s heard these
souuds they barked back at tiu-ir wilil brothers.

Tiic l'eastiu«j; ami im-rriment continued late into
thoni^i^ht; l)ut at length the last of the ilancers had
ceased to stamp in time to the son;:^, the last circle of
feiisters had bi'cn dismissed by its host, and tiie ^miu-
blers, who for hours had been seated opposite each
other, unweariedly ^uessin<^ which hand held the
marked bone, had given up their game and retired
to their liomes. Now all the noise had died away.
Even the wolves had ceased their howling and the
dogs slept ; otdy the river kept up its murmur.

The moon, which was already higli in the heavens
when the sun had set, was now fast dropi)ing toward
the western horizon. The Seven Persons had swung
around and pointed downward, and the lodges cast
black shadows that reached a long distance. It was
the middle of the night. In front of the lodges were
the tied horses, a few lying down, but most of tliem
standing, with their legs a little spread apart. All
were alike asleep. It was very still, and the soft mur-
mur of the water on the stones now seemed loud, yet
it was not always the same, for sometimes it grew
clearer and more distinct, and again seemed to die
away and almost to cease.

The time went bv, and now there came from the
brook once or twice another sound, as if two stones
had been knocked together. It was very faint, hardly
to be heard; buc if the splashing of water had beer,
joined to this faint click, it might have been thought
that some one was crossing the stream, walking through
the river, displacing the stones as he went. The noise

TIIK SToItV OF TIIK INDIAN.

Wiis not repealed, hut a little later there was sornethiii;,'
tit the e(l;;e of thi' cut hank ah()\e tiie .stream that hail
not heeii there hel'ore — a dark ohjeet in tiie .shadow of
a low mv^v hrnsh tiiat nii;,dit have heen a round hiack
.stone. Sonu! tiinv passed, and suddenly a num's form
appeared erect ahove tiie haidv, and witii half a dozen
(pnek, iioi.seless .step.s, moved into tiie hlack siiadow of
one of the lod^'es. A moment later, u second form
ap[)eared, and tluMi likewise disai)peared. There was
jinotlier interval, and the?i two men walked out into
the li;jfht and j)assed (puetly down alon^' the line of
the lod^'e.s. They did not try to hide them.selve.s, hut
walked .steadily alon<;, disappearing for a moment, and
then coming out again into the nu)oidight, and if any
one had .seen them, he might have thought that two
nu'ii of the camp were returning late to their hoim-s.
At length one of them seemed to have reached his
lodge, and the otlier walked on a little further aloiu",
aiul then he, too, disappeared in the .shadow, and did
not again step into the nujoidight. And now hchind
two of the lodges in the village, hefore which were tied
swift running horses, were crouching two young men
waiting, watching, listening to see if all was quiet.
The moon was sinking, the shadows were growing
longer, the light all ahout was dimmer, hut it was still
clear moonlight, aiul one could see a long way.

Left Hand waited for a little time. With his ear
close to the lodge skins he could hear the regular
breathing of the sleepers within. Once or twice he
rose to his feet, about to step around into the light in
front of the lodge, but some slight sound from within
w^arned him to Avait. At length he rose, and, knife in
hand, walked quickly to the horses and stooped down ;
but at that moment he heard a long sigh, a rustle of

TIIK WAR TliAlh.

•Jj

rolu's, and in im instant and wifliont a soiirul li(» ai^ain
vanislii'cl lu'liind tlic IimIlic. A soft step was licani
within, tlic door was thrown open, and a man sti'i>[>»Ml
out into tiu' li;^dit.

I.cft Hand was lyinij: '>n tlu» jxronnd in tlic I'lack
Kliadow. Ill' lii'ld his iviiitV lu'twci'ii his tet'tii, his how
in ins left hand, and a slicaf ot arrows in his ri,i,dit.
Thrri', witliin a few feet of him, stood an oncmy nn-
conscions of danger. It would be easy to siioot an
arrow throu;,di iiim, count the cuii/), sealp liim, and
tiien disapju'ar in the (hirkness. He wanted to kill
this man, and as he lay there it was hard for him to
resist tlu^ desire. Hut he rememl)ered that he was the
leader of a war i)arty, and had told liis youn^' men
that they were to take horses and iu)t to kill enemies,
unless tiiev shouUl he discovered and it should heeonu^
necessary. It would not be ri^dit for him to do sorne-
tiiing that he had told his followers not to do. lie-
sides, to kill this man mi'^ht brin^ some of Ids party
into dan<;er. The man would yell, people would rush
out of their lod^^'es to see what had haitpened, and
some one of Left llaiurs young men miijjht be cau_i,dit,
So Left llaiul lay there and waited. The man yawned,
stretched himself, and stood for a few moments look-
ing up and down the valley. Then lie re-entered the
lodge and lay down, drawing Ids robe over Idm, and
soon his regular breathing told thiit he slept.

Now Left Hand quickly arose, slipped his bow and
arrows into their case, and step])ing around in front
of the lodges, cut loose two of tlie horses there and led
them down the stream toward the timber. He walked
on the side of tlio horses away from the lodges, stoop-
ing low so as to be out of sight, and the animals looked
like two loose horses walking away from the camp. In

mmmmmmm*

IH)

TIIK STORY OF TlIK INDIAN.

! '

tl»o t'tlij^o of the titiilu'r lie met liis mnipiuiion, who
also litul taken two liorses. Tlicy h'd tlie animals on
thr()iiL!;h the timber and a little wav down the stream,
then u}) a ravine and onto the njiper })rairie. Mount-
ing here, they rode for a mile to a low, round-t()])ped
hutte. At the foot of this was a lar^-e band of loose
horses, eolleeled from the hills and herded by fonr
yoniii,^ men. J^eft J land said to them : " It is well, my
brothers; lot us go." In a moment all were mounted.
The horses were started, at lirst slowly, but in a short
tinu^ they were being huri'ied along at their very best
s{)eed, and before morning they were many miles away.

Jt was in this way that the members of a war party
entered the enemies' camp, when they had set out
bent oidy on seeuring plunder — the horse-stealing
expedition so commonly talked of.

To thus penetrate into the very midst of the ene-
mies' camp required not a little nerve. The success-
ful horse-taker must be cool and ready in emergency,
as well as daring. There was always a fair probability
that the warrior would be discovered, for in a large
camp there was usually some one moving about, or,
if not, the dogs were likely to bark. If a num was
recognised as a stranger, he had to act quickly to save
his life. It can readily be understood that these
expeditions were full of excitement and danger.

Curious things often happened to the men who
entered the camj). Left Hand had once waited for
some little time, watching a party of gamblers who
were playing "hands" in a lodge before which was
tied a horse which he greatly desired to take. At
length, when lie supposed all the players deeply inter-
ested, he stepped forward to cut loose the animal, but
just as he was about to do so the door was lifted and

THE WAll TKAir..

two men cjinic out uiid walked olT ji little to one side
jiiid behind the lod<;e. J^eft Iliind was just stooping
to out the rope as he saw the door lifting. ]Ie stood
up and walked directly up to the door, j)assing elose
to the men who had eonie out, who took him for
some one belonging to the eamj) about to enter the
lodge and take part in the gambling. He lifted the
door as if to enter, and then letting it fall, slipped
around the lodge and out of sight. Waiting until the
two men had re-entered, he hurried rouiul in front
again, cut loose the h.orse, led it away from the lodge,
mounted, and rode off. Jle was hardly on its back
before the loss was diseovered, but he made good his
escape.

Four Bears, a prominent Piegan, now dead, in his
young days had a friend about his own age, whom ho
dearly loved, and in whose company he often went to
war. This young man was brave to the ])oint of reck-
lessness, and so fond of doing unexpected things from
mere bravado that he sometimes got his com])anion
into trouble, or at least frightened him very badly.

Once these 3'oung men came to a camp early in
the evening, and waited near by for an oj)portunity to
enter it without being observed. It was summer and
line weather, and the people were shouting out for
feasts and going about from lodge to lodge, visiting
each other; children were playing near the lodge
doors, and boys and young men were chasing each
other about, wrestling and shouting. P^our Bears and
his companion waited, but the camp did not quiet
down, and they began to bo uneasy, for before long
the moon — now a little past its full — would rise, and
then the danger of their undertaking would become
much greater. At length his companion's patience

■ i

I 1

tup: storv of the ixdiax.

became cxliaustcd. and lie told Four Boars that they
must manage to get into the camp at once. He pro-
posed that they should imitate the sportive young
men of the camp, that one should chase the other
into the circle of the lodges, and that there they
should wrestle, separate, and then hide. The plan
was carried out. They crept as near the lodges as
they dared, and then, springing to their feet, raced
over the plain. They did not run directly toward the
camp, but drew near the lodges gradually, and at
length they darted between two of them and into the
circle, and then the pursuer with a shout caught the
other, and they struggled and rolled on the ground.
Parting again, they ran on, and for some time raced
about the camp, imitating the play of the boys, trying
to get a notion as to where the best horses were. Kear
one of the lodges, they saw a pen in which were three
line horses, and they determined that they would take
these first.

After a time, people went into their homes, the
fires died down, and the camp was still. The two
Piegans stole to the pen and began to tear it down as
noiselessly as possible. Having made an opening,
they entered and caught two of the horses. The one
secured by Four Bears was wild, and when he tried to
lead it out of the pen it would not follow. Ilis
friend, who was waiting for him outside, looked on
for a little while, and then said in his natural voice :
"Why do you not get on his back and ride him out?"
" Hush ! " whispered Four Bears, very much fright-
ened, " you will be heard."

" I can't help it," said the other still aloud ; " I
don't want to wait here all night. The moon is ris-
ing." " Do keep quiet ! " said Four Bears, and, al-

THE WAR TRAIL.

•JO

ino.st dead from friglit, ho scrambled on the horse's
back. Even then the animal would not move from
the pen. At this moment a man who had been
aroused by the talkiniij spoke from the lodge near by.
What he said the Piegans did not know, for they
eould not nnderstajid his language; but Four liear's
companion called out in reply : " You had better
come out here; this man is trving to take vour
horse." Almost in despair now, and reckless from
fright. Four Bears brought down his quirt again and
again on the horse's flank, and it darted noisily from
the pen, through the camp, and out onto the prairie,
while calls and shouts behind them showed that their
flight was discovered. Four Bears used to sav that ho
was so weak from fright that in crossing a gnlly lie
fell olf his horse and for some hours know nothing.
When he came to himself, the moon, which had been
just rising when they took the horses, was high in the
heavens. lie gathered himself up, and creeping olT,
made the best of his way home.

This same reckless friend of Four Bears once went
across the mountains and found a Snake camp, which
his party entered to take horses. The best ones were
confined in a strongly constructed pen, the breaking
down of which entailed a good deal of labour. His
companions, as they worked, heard him grumbling
under his breath, and when at last they had secured
the horses he said to them : " Xow, you take these
horses and go off with them. I did not come here to
work, but the man who owns these horses has made
me work pretty hard. I am going to get even with
him. You wait for me outside the camp." Ho went
to the lodge near the pen and began to remove the
pins which hold the lodge skins together over the
8

luo

TIIK STORV OF TIIK IXDIAN.

door. Ik'foro long this awoke tlie nuiii in the lodge,
who, perhajw thinking that some one was jdaying a
practical joke on him, called ont something in the
Snake langnage. Tiie Piegan made no rei)ly, but con-
tinued to take out the pins. At length tlie man rose
and came to the door, and as he stepped out the Piegan
drove his dagger through him, scalped him, and ran
away, lie joined the party, and they all got away
safe to their home.

On another occasion Four Bears and his friend en-
tered a camp to take horses. It was summer, and the
weather was hot. In one lodge in the village a num-
ber of men were gambling, and, the lodge skins being
raised, the two Piegans cre])t close to it to watch the
game. After a little the friend became interested,
and began to bet with Four Bears on the game, but
unsuccessfully. lie always guessed wrong and lost a
number of wagers to his companion. Four Bears,
even though he was winning, did not like to wait here,
and tried to persuade the other to come away and to
take the horses as intended ; but the young man be-
coming more and more interested in the game declined
to leave it. lie kept betting with Four Bears and in-
variably lost, the man who had the bone always win-
ning. Four Bears kept getting more and more un-
easy and was trying to get away, when suddenly the
young man shouted to the gambler who had the bone,
" You have won every time, but you shall win no
more," and with that he shot him twice with his
double-barrelled shotgun, and then he and Four Bears
disappeared, reaching camp in safety.

CHAPTER Vir.

FOUTL'XKS OF WAR.

Xo one who was not familiar with tlie West in its
early days, and witli Indians as they were then, can
have any conception of tiie difficulties and toils under-
gone by the members of a war party, and to have a
full appreciation of them one must have followed a
leader day after day for hundreds of miles over burn-
ing or frozen prairie. On foot, heavily laden, travel-
ing from twenty to seventy-five miles a day, blistered
by the fierce sun, pelted by chilling rains or^choked by
stifling dust, often foot-sore, without water for many
hours, suffering for want of food, subject to the orders
of their leader, frightened by dreams or bad omens
and in deadly peril of their lives, the sufferings of a
war party, whether physical or mental, were such as
might well appal any but those who had stout hearts
and great singleness of purpose. Yet the Indian
trained to these severe exercises from his youth up'
and coming of a race that for many centuries had been
footmen, gladly endured these hardships. Even little
lads, twelve or fourteen years old, or younger, used to
go on those journeys, and were sometimes effective
members of the party. Even if they did not actually
accomplish anything themselves, they were passin-
tlirough their novitiate as warriors, serving their ap*^
prenticeship, learning the features of the country so

101

102

TllK STURV OF TIIH INDIAN.

I I

lit .

W -^

' I

that afterward they couUl j)a.ss through it without
guide or conij)as.s, and, by wutciiiug tlie older warriors
wliom tlioy followed, learning also the art of war as
praetised by their peoj)le — that art whieh they regarded
as the noblest and most worthy of any to whieh a man
could devote himself.

It lias been said tliat the war parties wliieh set out
to capture liorses were usually small, and that they
travelled on foot. This, however, Avas true only of
later times, after the country became more populous
by the crowding into it of other tribes from the East,
and by the presence of parties of white men, whether
trappers, emigrants, or soldiers. In old times, sixty or
seventy years ago, it was dill'erent. Then the war par-
ties sometimes numbered a thousand men, and all were
mounted. Then it was not essential to avoid observa-
tion. Such great bodies of men feared no enemy that
they might meet, for their numbers were sulllcient to
overcome any ordinary travelling parties. Ac([uaint-
ances of my own have told me of war parties which
they had accompanied numbering seven or eight hun-
dred men. Even in later times, when a war party
started out to attack the settlements, they usually went
in large bodies and were mounted.

In recent times it was not very unusual for a man
to set out on the war path, accompanied oidy by his
wife. Such expeditions were more often taken by
newly married men, and they sometimes lasted for
weeks or months and covered a Avide extent of coun-
try. The woman, while not so efficient as a man would
have been, was yet able to do her part on such an ex-
pedition. She was perfectly competent to gather up
loose stock roaming over the hills near the camp, and
to keep together these and such horses as her husband

•I

IMM

FORTUNES OF WAK.

103

nu:4]\t hvuv^ to her from among tliu Io(]<,res of tlio
enemy. 'J'lie more diniciilt juid dancrerous work of
cree])ing into tlie camp and entting loose the better
horses which were tied in front of the hxlges naturally
fell to the man, but having an assistant without the
camp to keep togetlier the animals whieh he brought,
he could work much more rai)idly and eirectively and
secure a greater number of animals.

JJut aside from those cases in which a woman went
to war merely as a heli)er, occupying the i)lace which,
If she were a young man, would be that of a servant,
there are many incidents recorded in Indian story
where women have performed great deeds in war, and
by such acts have raised themselves in the public esti-
mation to the high level occupied by the bravest war-
riors. An example of this is given in a storv current
among the Pawnees, which is as follows :

A long time ago, once while the Skidi were on the
summer hunt, some of their young men made up their
minds that they would go olt* on the warpath. They
started, travelling on foot, and went a long wjiy up
into the Sioux country. At last they came to a vil-
lage, and after it was dark they went into the camp
and took many ponies, and bringing them out onto
the prairie, started for home, riding very fast.

One day, in the afternoon, as they were riding
along, they came suddenly upon a war party of Sioux
returning to the village they had just left. The Sioux
charged tliem very bravely, and they had a battle.
The Skidi killed five Sioux, but in the fight all their
ponies were taken from them and nine of the ten men
of the party were killed. Among the killed was the
leader of the war party, and only one young man, a
servant, got away. He travelled back toward the vil-

Til?': STOllV OF TIIK INDIAN.

I I

lagc, and wlicn ho f?ot thoro he told Ids people that ho
■was alone, tiiat all tiio other nienihers of the war party
liad been kilit'(l, but that before they had died they had
killed five Sioux.

When this youii<jf man came to the villac^e, the wife
of the leader of this war party was sitting at the edge
of the village, working on a bulTalo robe, })uttiiig on it
beads and ])oreii[)ine f|iiills, so that it should be hand-
some and line for her husband to wear.

When the people heard that their friends had been
killed, they all began to cry for them. The nu)thi'r of
this young woman went to her where she was sitting,
and told her that her husbaml was dead, and that sho
ought to come home and mourn for him ; but when
the woman heard that her husband was dead sho did
not stop to mourn, but kept on working over the robe.
She said to her mother, " Now ] am nearly through
fixing up this robe, and when it is done I will go back
to the lodge." As soon as she had finished her work
she went into the village, aiul to the lodge where the
young man lived who had just returned. She asked
him at what place her husband had been killed and
told him to describe the spot, so that if she ever came
there she would know it, and when he spoke she lis-
tened carefully. She did not cry for her husband.

Kow this voung woman loved her husband and she
wanted to see him again, and in the night she got the
two fastest horses belonging to the dead man, packed
on them corn and dried meat, and on one put the buf-
falo robe she had just finished, and then started for
the place where her liusband had been killed. She
went on and on, and after she had travelled two days
she came to the place where the dead lay. They had
been scnlped and cut nearly to pieces. She looked at

Sioux Chief.

(

\1'

,'«

rollTl'NKS OF WAR.

105

<i\

lior liushiiiul and .saw tlmt lie liiul bi'cii s(';il|ii'(l, uikI in
licr liciU't slu) (li'termiiUMl to l)o revenged, iiiid slio
Htiirted (»u tlie trail of the Sioux.

After three (hiy.s' liai'd travel, slie caiiu; to tlie top
<»f a hill, from which she could look down and see the
Sioux camp. 'I'hen* sho hid herself in a thicket, and
when nit^ht canu; who crept down close to it. Soon
she saw in the circle of the lodges in the centro of tlio
village a big lire, and sho went into the camp and
found the men and women dancing around this lire.
The women weru holding long poles with scalps tied
to them. They were dauidng in a ring, and the men
danced outside of tho women's circle. Tho woman
watched the dancing until she had made up her mind
which man was the leader of tho Sioux. JIo had
taken from tho leader of tho Skidi war party tho
sacred bundle that ho had carried, and iu)W had it
on his back. Tlu! woman know this bundle.

After she had seen all this, she put her robe around
her, and then went in among the women dancers of tho
Sioux and danced with them. As they danced around
in a circle, every time the Skidi woman came \n front
of the man who carried tho bundle, slie woidd take
the robe olf her head, so that the man might see her.
lie looked closely at her, for ho did not know her, and
he liked her, because she was very pretty. So they
danced for a long time. About the middle of the
night, the woman began to dance up to the man and to
dance before him for a few minutes, and then she would
go on dancing around the circle. At last everybody
got tired, and they all stopped dancing and began to
go to their lodges. The leader now wenc up to this
woman and pulled her to him and took her to one
side, and then tried to get her to go with him to his

mmm

J(M)

TIIH SToItY 01'' TIIM INDIAN'.

0''
111

l(i(l;;o ; l)ut tlu> wonum would not po. Slio would pull
liiiii towiird her, iiiid llnuily li(> went with her. ,)ii>t
outside tho villa;;*' they st(t|tj)('d and sat (h)Wii t)ii tlio
jn'airii! to talk. 'The man s|Mik(' to Iut, but she could
Hot uiidiTstand hitu. She did not know thi! Sioux
]a>i.i,'ua;j:e. IIo tried to put his arm around lu-r, hut
tlu) hundie that huni; on ids back was in his way, ajid
lu' took it olT ami ])ut it on tiic i^nmnd. 'I'iicn he
cau^^ht her aiul put his arms around her waist, and
she jtut her left arm about his lu-ck, and iioldini; iii.s
head close to her ilrew her kinfe from her side and
thrust it into his throat, over ami over again. Soon
the man was dead.

'I'hen the woimm stood up aiul took \\\) the sacred
bundle and cut olV the leader's head, and went to where
lu'r horses were. She tied the head and the bundle
to her saddle and started back to her villa,2fe. After
she had travelled for two days, she stojiped for a Ion;",'
rest. Here she took the liead from the saddle, and
took the scalp olT it and put it on a pole.

When the wonum first came in sight of the Skidi
village, no one knew who it was that was coniinf]^. She
rode like a wariior, for she had the scalp on a pole and
lier fane was painted black, and she was singing; her
hushamrs war song. '^I'he peo])le womlered who it
coidd be; but at last, when she got close to them, they
knew who it was. Her relations had mourned her as
dead, but now she came back with good news, for she
brought not only a scalp, but the lost sacred bundle.

Then there was rejoicing in the village, for she
■wiped away the tears from parents, brothers, and
sisters of the dead. Now the vonng warriors were
afraid to meet lier, for she, a woman, had taken a
scalp, and they had not yet done so. After that time

i
'I

,.»

roinrNKs of wah.

lo:

slit' was ahvays askcil to comr into the (•(Miiicils of ilic
braves, and she was always wclcofii*' at the (.M iiuii's
feasts over this sacred bmidle.

It rre<|ii<'titly liappeiieil that a small party of hi-
diaiis travelliiiir al)oiit were defected, siirroiiiiile(|, jind
surprised liy a iiiiieh lari^er lio(|ynf some hostile trihe,
and when this took phiee the destruction was often
nearly or (juito comph-te. Often, too, a small war i)arty
who w«'re searchin.Lj for a hostile camp mi;^dit ho dis-
covercfl hy the scouts of that camp, and themselves l)e
surprised and surrounded, when their destruction was
almost certain.

Kvery tiihe that sent out parties to war has its
stories of such events, sometimes telling' of tlu; total
annihilation (»f some little band of men, and some-
times of their esca])o from the perils to which they
had been exposed; how they were siirrounded by tim
enemy, driven into a jiatch of brush or up on sonio
hi^h butte; how they were kei)t there for days; of tbo
sulTerinrrs that they endured from hnni^er and thirst,
and how, at length, througli the prayers and the wis-
dom of their leader, or by the intervention of some
helpful animal, or the power of some dream, they
wi're enabled to escape from the danger, to creep
througli the watchful circle of their enemies, and to
i-each their homes in safety. Some of these stories
are very curious and interesting. The Prisoners of
Court House Kock, published in my book on the Paw-
nees, is one of these tales ; another examide is the es-
cape of a war party under the leadership of Ka-min'-
a-kus, chief of the Plains Crees, a tribe which, in later
years, was always at war with the Blackfeet.

Ka-min'-a-kus was a great warrior and a strong
medicine man. He killed fourteen Bhudifect before

1(»8

THE STORY OF THE IXDIAX.

k' I

!
'J \

lie lost his own life. II is right cyo was shot out by
Low Horn in the light when tiiat warrior was killed.*
He was twice tossed by bufTalo bulls, and each time
severely injured ; twice thrown from his horse, each
time breaking some bones ; and had three scars on his
right side from lilackfoot bullets. It was thought
by his own people, aiul even by some of the Black feet,
that he could not be killed.

Ka-min'-a-kus spoke the Blackfoot language per-
fectly, and often went through their cam})s, and even
sat and gambled with them for part of the night, and
the next morning a good horse would be gone, or per-
haps a scalp. On one occasion a party of Blackfect
surprised him with six of his young men, and drove
them out on a small point of land on a lake. The
Crees dug rifle pits, and by firing from them kept the
Blackfeet at bay all through the day. Kight fell, dark
and cloudy, and Ka-min'-a-kus told his young men to
swim across the lake, leaving their guns and ammu-
nition with him, and he would fight the Blackfeet
alone. After they had gone, he ran from one hole to
another, firing a shot from each, until his men had
had time to get away. Then he crept out to the Black-
foot lines and began, like them, to fire at the deserted
holes, and getting near to a Blackfoot he shot and
scalped him, passed through the lines, and escaped.
In the morning the Blackfeet found the Crees gone,
and had only their own dead to look at.

Like other uncivilized people the Indians have a great
respect for dreams, and believe that these foreshadow
coming events. A dream often inspires a warrior to
start on the warpath, and dreams which come to them

* Blackfoot Lodge Tulos, p. 80.

FORTUNES OF WAR.

100

during a joiiniey to war are implicitly trusted. Thus
if a warrior dreams that he sees the bleeding bodies of
his enemies lying on the prairie, he presses forward with
renewed courage in the firm confidence that his expe-
dition will come to a successful issue. If, on the other
hand, in his sleep he sees himself wounded or dead, or
his comrades lying dead or scalped, he loses all heart
for his undertaking and wishes to turn about and go
home.

Among all tribes stories are current which exem-
plify this feeling, and most of these stories condrm the
Indian in his belief in dreams. Some of these tales
are given in another book. The Blackfoot story of
Berry Child sets forth well the Indian's trust in dreams,
and I give it as nearly as possible in the words of the
narrator :

About seven winters before the white men built
Fort Benton, the Blackfcet were camped at the Cyjiress
Hills. A large party had gone to war against the
Crows, and had returned with a big band of horses
taken from their enemies.

At this time, there was in the camp a young man
who was a very brave warrior. His name was Berry
Child (Mi'na Pokau'). "When he went to war, he always
had good luck and brought back horses and sometimes
n. scalp or two. When the war party had started out,
this young man was away on the warpath across the
mountains, and when he came back and heard what
they had done and where the Crows were camped, he
made up his mind that he too would go to war against
them. He told the people what was in his mind, that
he intended to start off to war, and many young men
said that they would go with him, for all the people
knew that he was brave, and that he had done many

(iHjiiijii, ij ,1 ^IMIIW

!5^?iHffln

110

TIIF. STORY OF THE INDIAN.

great things, and tliat ho was always hicky in war and
liad a good heart, and in time of danger took care of
liis followers and exposed himself, while he protected
them. So he had great inllucuce in the camp, and
whenever he went to war many men used to follow
him.

At lengtli, when tlie grass had started, the time
came that he had set for leavinij, and one mornino: his
men all gathered in the centre of the camp to receive
the blessing of the medicine man before tliey set out.
'IMiey numbered many tens of warriors. When all were
there, one person was still missing — Bovvy Child, the
leader, was not present. 'J'he })eo))Ie wondered where
he could be and whv he was not with them, and thcv
talked about it among themselves while thev waited.
It was not long before they saw a person coming down
the blulfs toward the camp, and pretty soon they saw
that it was 15erry Child, lie came toward the camp
and came up to the circle and sat down in it. lie was
dressed in fine war attire of white buckskin with eade
feathers, and in his hand he held an arrow. One half
of it was painted white and one half black. Its point
was red.

Berrv Child looked strong and brave as he stood
there before the people, and his face showed that he
was resolved what he should do. When every one was
quiet, he stepped forward, and holding up the arrow
above his head, he spoke to the young men and to all
those standing near : " My fathers and you my brothers,
and all you people, look at this arrow and listen to my
words. Last night I had a dream. I dreamed a bad
dream. I saw an eagle fly from the direction where
our enemies the Crows live, and in its claws the eagle
held a bunch of arrows. I saw the bird sail many times

FORTUNES OF WAU.

Ill

aroiiiul tliisejimp, and at last it flow past the camp ami
otl: over tlie prairie, and I thought it was going away.
In a little wliilc it came back and sailed three times
more about tiie camp, and then lit n})on that little liill
over there, and sat tiiere looking at its arrows, as if
counting them. The eagle did not sit there long but
liew away again, and when it had risen a short way in
the air, it dropped one of the arrows. Then I awoke,
and already it was daylight. Then I got up and went
over to the hill where the eagle had been sitting, iiud
there I found the arrow which I hold in my hand. It
is not a Blackfoot arrow. You can all see that it was
made by our enemies, by the Crows.

" Xow, my people, this is a bad sign and I know
that trouble is coming to me and to as many as go with
me on this journey to war. And now I say to you
young men that we are going to meet great danger,
and as many of you as fear death should not follow
me. For myself, I intend to go to war, as I have said
I would do, but I ask no one to come with me. Let
each man decide for himself what he will do. I can-
not advise vou to stav at home or to follow me. As for
me, while my body is strong, and while my eyesight is
clear and good, and while there is no white hair in my
head, I would like to die in battle. I have many young
brothers growing up to take my place. They will care
for mv father and mother when thev are old. Brothers,
some of you have no close relations, no one to help your
old people if you should die. I should not like to have
you lose your bodies on my account, nor that your old
people should mourn for you, and should starve if you
do not come back from war. Think of these things,
and make up your minds what you will do."

When he had finished speaking, all the people be-

112

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN'.

gun to talk at once, and some said one thing and some
another, but all thouglit that the arrow the eagle had
dropped was a bad sign, and that the 8irii had sent
the bird to warn the party not to start. Still, some
thought that the sign meant danger only to the leader.
Jiut all the young men of his party said that they
were willing to follow IJerry Child to war. So they
started, against tlie will of their people, for they were
resolved to follow their young leader.

The war party went on, travelling southwest until
they came to the Missouri Kiver. Here they killed
some buli'alo, and it was decided to camp for a while
and rest. So far all had gone well, and the young
men were in good heart after their feast.

The second chief of this party was named Spotted
Wolf. He was a middle-aged man, and was known
to be powerful with dreams. One night, they all lay
down to sleep, and the next morning each man had a
strange dream to tell. Some had dreamed sad things
and some funny things, all dilferent. When Spotted
Wolf told his dream to the party, he said : " I dreamed
that I saw this whole party lying on the prairie dead
and scalped, and from where we lay all killed togetlier,
I saw a stream of blood flowing on the ground down
the hill. This was a strong dream, for I saw it all as
plain as I see you now, and I knew each man as he lay
dead. My opinion is that it is best for us to turn
about and go home, for my dream has told me that
there is too much danger before us."

The warriors talked about this for some time, and
some thought that it would be best to go liome, and
some wanted to go on, but at length they all decided
to go a little further. The next night Spotted Wolf
dreamed again, and in the morning he told his dream.

FORTUNES OF WAR.

113

"Brotliers," he said, "now I know for certain that
soinc'tliiiig bad is going to happen to us. 1 dreamed
that I was going along, and I came to a spring and
bent down to the water to drink. 1'lie water was
still, and I saw myself in it ; and when I saw mv liead,
it was bare and all bloody, tliere was no liair on it. ]t
liad no scalp. Trouble is coming for us, and I think
we had better go back to our own country. Whatever
the rest may decide, I shall go back."

Then Berry Child said : " Brothers, I want to see
the end of this, and I am going on. If any of you will
follow me, you can come on ; if any wish to go back,
they can go."

The party divided here, the larger number jxoinir
back to the Blackfoot camp, while twenty-six men fol-
lowed Berry Ciiild, determined to see the end.

For many days the party travelled on through the
mountains, and when they came to the forks of the
Musselshell, they saw fresh signs of enemies, but tlicy
could not find their camp. They went on, until they
came to Deer Creek and the Yellowstone, and here
they found a camp where the Crows had been, but
from which they had moved the day before, so that
now they could not be far off. AVhile they were wait-
ing here, one of the party was bitten by a rattlesnake
and could go no further on foot, so they gave him
some food and left him hidden liere, intending to
come back that way and take him with them.

When they had travelled up Deer Creek lialf a
day's journey, they were seen by the Crows, and a
large party of warriors attacked them. They made a
brave stand, but the Crows were too many, and drove
them into a patch of cherry brush in the valley, and
surrounded them. The main Crow camp was not far

ha'

i
i

lit :

;, i

111

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

olT, and wlioii tlio news came to it, tlic wliolc Crow
villaL,'c' moved down and cani}tt'd all about the IMack-
foct.'

'riic next morning tlio Crow chief stood out in
front of the patch of brush and spoke to the Black-
feet in signs, telling them that they had belter give
themselves up, and that if they woulil do so the Crows
"would make friends with them. " It is useless for you
to light," ho said. " Vou are twenty-live brave men,
but we are three hundred lodges of 2)eoi)le. (Jive your-
selves up and be our friemls." Then Berry Child
stepped out of the brush, and in signs answered the
Crow, saying : "It is not the custom of the Black feet
to surreiuler and make friends in battle. I have come
to war, to tight, and, if I must, to die. I am here, and
I am willing to die. Here is my body. It waits for
you to count coi/j) on it. Here is my scalp, who will
come and take it? I have come to war, not to make
friends."

Then all the Crows got ready and attacked them.
The Blackfeet stood their ground, fighting bravely till
near sundown ; but the Crows kept charging them in
great numbers, and in the afternoon the last of the
twenty-live was killed. Xot one escaped. The nnin
who had been bitten by the snake got better, and he
alone returned to the lilackfeet camp.

It is impossible for us who live commonplace, hum-
drum lives of a civilized community to form any ade-
quate conception of the variety and excitement of the
life of a young man who was constantly going on the
warpath. The barest enumeration of the odd circum-
stances and thrilling occurrences which took place in
a single tribe of a brave, warlike nation would fdl many

HBWI

FOIITL'NES OF WAR.

115

! I.

"^4.

volunios. Such a recital would presont many oxaiu-
jtlo.s of rook loss liardiiiood almost boyoiid bolicf, easos
whoro moil have miiiglod with tlie momhors of a hos-
tile camp, taking part in their gambling games, like
Ka-min'-akus, or have given themselves over to the
enemy to bo slain, as did Owl liear and Kunning I'iiief,
or, tliiougli kindness of heart or mere good nature,
have uiKh'rtaken some very dangerous e.\]>odition, like
tliat which tiio Bridled Man entered into for tiie sake
of his wife. This story, as given by tiio Piegans, is its
follows :

In the Piegan cam]) there was a man whom they
called A'yos-kwo-ye-i)is'ta, which means he is bridled.
His lips had been eaten away, and across his face, cov-
ering his mouth, he used to wear a piece of cowskin,
to hide the scar. This is what gave him his name.

This man had a good heart. He was always doing
kind things. Sometimes, when he was the last to leave
the camp, he would see little puppies which had been
left behind to starve, and would pick them up and
carry them in his robe to the next camp, and nurse
and feed them until they were strong enough to go
about by themselves, lie was a very brave man. One
time when he went to war, he found a camp of Snake
Indians. When he had found them, he said to his
party: " Well, now, my young men, we are looking for
death, and there is the enemy. I intend to charge
this village and give them battle." They charged the
village and a great fight followed, and they defeated
the Siuikos and got them frightened and running, and
they captured a large number of women. He told his
men not to kill the captured women. They also cap-
tured the village and many children, and everything
that the Snakes had.

il-

IKi

TIII<: STORY OF TIIK INDIAN.

Uii

; I

lii I

^ I «!

When tlio battle was over, they started back with
the horses and otlicr phinder tliat tlie taken, aii<l

took tiie women witli thein. 'I'lio P ^lan sch'ct-

ed a wife for liiinst'lf from among ' A'omeii. While

lie was in liis own camp, lie could get a wife. No
woman would nuirry him, he was so ugly. When lie
reached his camp, he had many scalps and many pris-
oners, and many strange things that he had taken from
the enemy. So he was much respected, and everybody
looked U]) to him.

lie started off on another war trip, Jind took with
him his captured wife. 'JMie woman used to guide him
about through the country, and tell him where the
tribes of her people were likely to be at each season of
the year. They went down south into a strange coun-
try and there found a camp of peoi)le. lie said to his
followers, " Now we will have to give this people bat-
tle, and see what success we will have here." Before
he had started on the warpath he had made himself a
bone dagger, and was armed with this and a shield and
a stone axe. The Piegans charged the village, aiul the
liridled Man showed great bravery. lie rushed on
the eneniv and killed them witli the bone dagger, and
pounded them down with his battle-axe. The enemy
tried to shoot him, but he protected himself with his
siiield. While this fight was going on, a number of
the enemy rushed on him, and caught hold of him
and threw him down, and he was under them on the
ground squirming and stabbing and kicking, and at
last he got up and away from them. During the battle
the voice of Bridled Man could be heard calling out :
" Take courage, my young brothers ; take courage !
There are many of our young brothers growing up
who can take our places if we fall in battle."

roirrrNKs ok \vai{.

117

ii ,

'Vho Pu'.irans oonquorccl tlio villago. Tlioy cajitnn'd
a ixrciit many woiiusii aiul (.'liildivn, and Ids yoin>f( nit'ii
killed some of the wonioii and clnldrcn secretly; but
this was a;j:aiiist tiie Jiridlcd Man's wishes. 'J'ius did
not please Iniu, and lie did all lie could to sto^) it.
When they p»t back to the main camp, a ^rveat feast
and a war dance were given in honour of the IJridled
.Man.

After they had been back at their camp for some
months, his wife began to beg her husband to take
her back to her people. She used to vsay to lum : " My
father and the jjcople tluit 1 belong to are great cluefs.
If you will take me back to them, no harm will come
to voii." Iler husband would answer : '' 1 do not like
to do this. I have done so much harm to your })eople
that it will be hard for them to forgive it. I have de-
feated them in battle, have taken their camps, have
scalped their warriors and captured their women and
children. It would be hard for them to overlook all
this." The woman would say : " No, I feel certain that
I am right. ^ly father and my brothers are the heads
of the camp, and they love me dearly. I know that
what I say will be so."

After she had coaxed and teased him for a long
time, at last he said to her : " Well, let it be so. I will
take you to your peo])le, although I know that I shall
not get back here. I shall not survive. I shall be
killed." When he had made up his mind to start, he
invited many of the head men of the camp into his
lodge and spoke to them, saying : " My young people,
there is one thing I want to tell you. It is a hard
thing for a man to be too good-hearted. For a long
time this woman has been asking me to take her home
to her own people. I have promised to do so, and I

5U.T

lis

TIIK STOIIV ()!•' TIIK INDIAN.

h .

■'^

ft '

do iKjt wi.sli ftny of you to oltjcct to it or try to stoj)
nio. I uni ^'oiii*? to tlo wlmt slic asks, hut 1 do not ex-
pect to return here. I exi)C('t to hi' killed."

lie told his wife to j;et ready, and that they wouhl
ffo. While they were making ready to start, the Hridled
Man made himself a eowskin eoat, with laru'e parllecho
culTs to it wliieh reached up to his elhows, and in these
culTs he sewed a liniiifT, and hetween the lining and
the cull' he put u knife and sewed it there, hut his
wife did Tiot ktiow it was there. Jlis other knife h»^
put in his helt in its usual place.

At last they were ready, and they started on foot
and travelled many davs. At length the woman saitl
to lier hushand : "" When we get on top of this moun-
tain, looking soutlieast, you can sec, way olf, a rivei-.
At this time of the year, all my people come and eamj)
on this river. There they dig camas and hitter root,
and gather service herries to dry them." When thev
got on the hill and looked over, there, far olt they
could see the river. By this time their moccasins were
nearly worn out. They travelled on toward the river,
and when night overtook them they camped. When
they lay down to rest the man said to his womjin : '' I
think I hear something in the distance. Do you not
hear it?" The woman said, "No, I hear nothing."
lie said : " I think I hear a drum heating in the dis-
tance. Xow, you listen." The woman listened, ami
then said : " Yes, I think I do hear a drum beating;
but never mind, we will sleep here to-night." But the
man said : " No, if that is a drum, the camp is close by ;
we had better go there to-iight." So they i)acked up
and started. They went on, and when they had come
close to the camp, they could hear drums beating for a
dance, and the talking and laughter of the people up

' ?

; "?

Foliri'NKS OF WAU.

11!)

and down the river for u lon<; way ; and they coidd
tt'll tliat there were many people eatnped here on tliis
river. 'I'lie man said : '' Well, we are iiere. I am satis-
iied that I shall not see to-morrow's sun. Von have
hroiijjfht me to your country to <,'et killed. It is always
a foolish man's wav to listen to a woman." The wonuin
said : " Xo, do not be uneasy. My father is the ^ivdt
eiiief of tliis eam[). Von wait here for me. I will <^o
into the camp. I will look throu<;h the lodges until 1
come to where mv father or brothers are, and if I llnd
them, I will tell them that you are here and I will como
back with them and ir»'t von. I know that thev will
not hurt you." Her iuisband said : "All right; 1 will
wait here. Come back to this place. 1 will not run
away. We will see what is going to happen." Sho
said : " 1 will go to where this great dance is, and if my
father is in the camp, he will be there, lie will bo
sitting in the back end of the lodge, where the chief
sits."

The woman went olT, and the Bridled Man waited
a long time for her to come back. lie fell asleep, and
then woke up. At last he got tired of waiting for her,
so he thought, " I will go down there and see what is
the matter." Before ho started, he untied the string
of his parchment cuff, and tried his knife to see if it
slipped out and in easily, lie went into the camp
and right to the dancing lodge, wliere the drum was
beating. When he got there, he found that they were
giving a great war dance. They had made a very big
lodge, and when he came close to it, he had hard work
to get to the door on account of the great crowd of
women and children standing around, lie pushed his
way through these people toward the lodge, lie had
his bow strung, and had taken his knife from the back

IJO

TIIK ST()|{V OF tin: INDIAN.

If .

of his bt'lt aiKJ put il in I'rojit, NvImtc lir imhiM easily
jjfct ut it il* lit' lU'tMlcd it. When he p»t to the dnnr of
the (hiiKU' hxi^'c, hi' went in. IN' walUcd ri,i;lit aloiiij
tho row of ihinccrs to tliu baik of tho lod^jc where tlm
cliief.s were .^ittin;;. In the niidtjie, in the Itaek of the
Iodide, was a baek-re.st leanini,' a^'ainst tiio lodt^e poK'.s,
Tiiero sat tiie head chief. He wallvcd up to tiiis man,
moved his le^'s apart, and .sat down ri^dit in front of
liini and between thein. Jle reacdied down and took
tho chief's hands, ami folded tiiern in front of his own
body. Tiio dancers all stopped and sat down. 'I'he
drum ceased beatinn'. It became still, and every one
turned his eyes on the stran<xer who had just come in.
The people talked amon<,' themselves, but he could
not understand what thev were savinjjr. Two nu'ii
wlio sat at the opposite end of the lod;j^e, one on either
side of the door, got up and came toward him. 'i'hey
had iiothiufif on save breech-clouts, and in their ri«j:ht
liands daggers. '^Phese men caught hold of the liridled
Man, one bv each hand, lie braced himself and held
stilY, but they dragged him along and he slid over tho
ground toward the door. When they had got him to
tho door, ho pulled away from them and walked quiet-
ly back to tho chief, spread his legs apart, and sat
down in front of him, and put the chiefs arms around
Ills own body as before. I'he two soldiers again came
up to him. This time they snatched oif his blanket,
and took his bow and arrows away from him. Again
they came up to him, singing, and, seizing him by tho
wrists, pulled him up to his feet, and dragged him
toward the lodge door. By this time there was a great
uproar outside and at the door, people trying to get
out and go away, for they knew that killing would
take place as soon as he was taken outside. Other

, f

FoltTl'NKS ol' WAIl.

121

poo|)l(» want(Ml to iioi in iunl sec wimt was jjoiu;,' on.
Tlirrc was crowdiiii; ami confiisicni. Wlicii tlic sol-
(liiTS ;;ot tln' llridlfil Man close to tlie door, lie jerked
away from the ri^iit hand man, stru(d\ the other and
knocked him away, and walked hack and sat down as
before. Jle kept tiiis np nntil he had done it fonr
times. Tiic chief sat tiiere, Kavin^ nothin<'. iio
neither tried to enconrajje his men nor to stop them.
He did not m<»ve nor speak. He paid no attention.

Tile fonrth time that they drag^M'd liim to tho
door. Ids bridle was torn oil" his face. He jerked loose
from the men, folded his arms, and walked back to tho
chief. When he <;ot to liim, he bent down, took hold
of the chief's arm, lifted it up, and drawing the kiufe
from his culT, thrust it several times into the Snake
chief's sidt(. 'i'heu he gave the 1 Megan warwlioop,
and started for the door, jumping at every nuin ho
saw. ^J'he dancers started up in terror and rushed for
the door. He was rigbt among them, stabi)ing and
cutting and giving the warwlioop every time liis
knife came down, and all the time getting nearer to
the door. When he got outside, the crowd started to
run, but they fell over each other, and he was among
them in the darkness, stabbing every one lie could
reach. When the peoj)le had cleared away from in
front of him, lie started to run toward the river.

()l)p()site this lodge, and on the river bank, -was a
])oint of tall pine trees, and one had fallen down into
the river and reached part way across it. He ran on
to this point and out on the fallen tree, and as he ran
he made the chattering noise that a ])ine squirrel ut-
ters. When he got to the end of the tree, he jumped
into the water and so got across the river, and made
his way up on the mountain and hid himself.

122

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

JFe staved tliorc all the next dav. The next nijj^ht
he went back lo the camp a^ijjain, to see if lie eoiiM
steal into a lodge and lind nioceas'ns and some cIoIIks
to wear. lie went into dillVrent lodjj:e.-!, tniiig to
gatlier up what he could lay liis hands on. lie could
lind nothin<]f to cover hiniselt' with, so he went to
where acoui)le were sleeping, jerked the robe olT them,
and ran out of the lodge. In another lodge whicli ho
entered, a man was sleei)ing with moccasins on, and
he took them olY him. lie found some dried meat,
a)id now, as it was getting toward morning, he crossed
tiie river, went u\) to his hiding i)la(!e, and there waited
again all dav.

That night he returned to the camp, and went
into a lodge. At the head of a bed wiiere a voung
man was sleeping, he found a (piiver of arrows and a
bow, ami he took them. When he went out of tiio
lodge and started down toward the river, there he saw
a persou sitting. She had gone down after some wa-
ter, llo walked up to her, put one hand over her
mouth, and caught her around the waist and started
off with her. lie did not speak to her. When he got
her away from camp, he kept on travelling with her.
He never stopped and never spoke. When daylight
came, and she saw that it was a strange Indian, she
was afraid of him. lie told her by signs, " I am
going to take you with me. Come on." She did not
resist in any way, but went with him. When they
camped that night, the man was very tired. They lay
down to sleep for the night, and he went to sleep at
once. When he awoke, he found that the woman was
gone. So he kept on travelling, and returned to his
]ieople.

It was learned afterward, during a friendly meeting

'»i

FORTUNES OF WAR.

123

with tlio Siiiikcs, tliiit ho liml killed twenty of tliosc
peo])le in liis rush for the door.

Althougli the Indian, as a nde, sliows no niorev in
Ids warfare, kiliin,i]^ alike; men and women and ehil-
dren, and actin,i,^ as if ids motto were "Slay and si^iro
not," yet he can take pity, sometimes disi)layin<,' a
man;nanindty iiardly to be looked for in a savage, and
foregoes the opi)ortinnty to rid himself of an enemv,
even when he can do so without danger to lumself.
Instances of sucli generosity are not often witnessed
in the excitement of battle, but that they do occur is
shown by examples such as those given in the stories
of Comanche Chief, Lone Chief, and The Peace with
the Snakes, which I have recounted in earlier volumes.
In these particular instances the feeling which in-
duced the chiefs to spare the men whose lives were in
their liands appears to have been res])ect for their
bravery. They wished to give the strongest possible
proof of their admiration for this quality. Other
stories tell of similar instances where the motive
seems to have been mere good nature, and often the
release of cai)tives taken in war was prompted by
kindness of heart, the prisoner beinr; su])plied with
arms, food, and a horse, and then taken otf to a dis-
tance from camp and dismissed to go to his home.

Sometimes fear might cause a man to spare an
enemy's life. If the latter was thought to Iiave very
strong " medicine," the man in whose power lie was
nught deem it prudent to treat him as a friend,
rather than to run the risk of olfending the protect-
ing spirit whose })0'ver was so great.

On the other iiand, defeat, or the loss of some
popular man, might lead the victors to torture the

'!:!

124

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

captive man, wlio was tliv^n sacrificed in revenge for
the injury inllictcd by liis tribe on the enemy. 1 liave
elsewhere spoken of tlie sacrifice of the captive by tlic
Skidi, but this, it will be remembered, was not done
from any warlike feeling. It was a purely religious
ceremony. The Kees, while they never, so far as
known, sacrificed the captive in the same way as the
Skidi, nevertheless had a similar custom, though it
was a mere ceremony, and did not involve loss of life
or even suffering to the captive. Among some other
tribes a captive was occasionally offered to the Sun or
principal dtuty, rarely being killed, but usually being
tied securely and left to perish alone.

Hi . I

[Ft'

•m

Crooked I land, .i Pawnoe Brave.

* ■,. -4

CHAPTER VIII.

PltAIKIK liATTLEFIELDS.

Is the historic period, tlie Indian lias always hcon
a warrior. Urged on by the ho])e of plunder, tlio
longing for reputation, or the desire for revenge, he
has raided the white settlements and made hostile in-
cursions against those of his own nice; and each war
party that set out endeavoured to injure as much as
possible the enemy it attacked. As each woman
miglit fight or be a mother of warriors, and as each
child might grow to be a warrior or a woman, women
and children were slain in war as gladly as men, for
the killing of each individual was a blow to the ene-
my. It helped to weaken his power and to strike ter-
ror to his heart.

But the Indian has not always been a warrior.
Long ago, there was a time when war was unknown
and when all people lived on good terms with their
neighbours, making friendly visits, and being hos-
pitably received, and when they in turn were visited,
returning this hospitality. The Blackfeet say that
"in the earliest times there was no war," and give a
circumstantial account of the first time that a man
was killed in war; the Arickaras have stories of a
time when war was unknown, and tell about the first
fighting that took place ; and in like manner many
of the tribes, which in our time have proved bravest

125

12(;

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

V '

und most ferocious in war, toll of those primitive days
before coullict was known.

J have elsewhere * <;iveii iiiv reasons for believin":
that previous to the eoiuing of the wliites there were
110 general or long-continued wars among the Indians,
because there was then no motive for war. No doubt
from time to time quarrels arose between diU'erent
tribes or diU'erent bands of the same tribe, and in
such disputes blood was occasionally shed, but I do
not believe that there was anvthing like the svstematic
warfare that has existed in recent years. The quar-
rels that took place were usually trivial and about
trivial subjects— about women, about the division of
a buffalo, etc. Heal wars could have arisen only by
the irruption of one tribe into the territory of an-
other, and the land was so broad and its inhabitants
so few that this could have occurred but seldom.

It is difficult for us, with our knowledge of im-
proved implements of war, to comprehend how blood-
less these early wars of the Indians must have been.
A shield would stop a stone-headed arrow, and at p.
slightly greater distance a robe would do the same.
Their stone-headed lances were adapted to tearing
and bruising ratlier than to piercing the flesh, and
their most elTective weapon was no doubt the stone
warclub, or battleaxe, which was heavy enough, if
the blow was fairly delivered, to crush in a man's
skull. In those old days, we may imagine that in
many, if not in most, of the battles that took place,
the combatants, however anxious they may have been
to kill, were forced to content themselves with beating
and poking each other, giving and receiving nothing

* Blackfoot Lodge Tales, p. 242.

PKAIRIK HATTLKFIHLDS.

12:

more serious than a few bruises. Tliose who luive
witnessed liglits in nioclern times between consider-
able bodies of Indians armed witii iron-pointed arrows,
knives, and hateliets, will remember how very trillin;,'
lias been the loss of life in proportion to the numbi'rs
of the menengiiged. Such battles, as I have elsewhere
shown, might go on for half a day williout loss of life
on either side, but when one party ac.'knowk'dged de-
feat and turned to run, the slaugliter in the pursuit
might be considerable.

In these wars between d liferent tribes, the greatest
losses usually occurred when one party was surprised
by another, the attacking party killing a number of
men at the first onslaught, and perhaps in the ensuing
panic. If, liowever, those attacked rallied and turned
to fight, the assailants, unless they irreatlv outnum-
bered their enemy, often drew off at once, satisfied
with what tliey had accomplished in the surprise.

The story of the last great fight which took place
between the three allied tribes of Pawnees and the
Skidi tribe, just previous to the hitter's incorporation
into the Pawnee nation, is an example of this, and has
never been told in detail. It gives a good idea of one
view of Indian warfare, shows that they had some no-
tions of strategy, and also brings out in strong relief
the common sense and benevolence of the Kit'ka-hah-
ki chief. The story was told me many years ago by
an old Chani', substantially as given below. He said :

It was lonjj affo. At that titne mv father was a
young man. I had not been born. jMany years before,
the three tribes of Pawnees had come up from the
south, and had found the Skidi living in this country,
were scattered

ages

long

(the Platte) and the Many Potatoes River (Loup).

ll>8

TIIK STOKV OF 'I'llK INDIAN.

1 1

'riioro wore many of them, a great tribe. But there
were many more of t\w I'awnees than tliere were of
the Skidi.

Wlieu our people first met tlio Skidi, we wer(»
frieiully ; we found that we spoke a hmgiuige ahnost
the same, and so wo learned that we were relations —
the same people — so we smoked together and used to
visit each other's villages, and to eat together. We
were friends. Jiut after a while, sonje of the Skidi
and some of the Chaui' got to quarrelling. I do not
know what it was about. After that there were more
fpuirrels, and at last a Skidi was killed ; and after that
the people were afraid to go near the Skidi village,
and the Skidi did not come near the Chaui' village for
fear they might be killed.

One time iu the winter, a party of men from the
Chaui' village, which then stood on the south side of
the Broad Kiver, just below the place of the Lone
Tree (now Central City, Neb.), crossed the river to
hunt buffalo between the Platte and the Loup. While
they were killing buffalo, a war party of the Skidi at-
tacked them and fought them, and killed almost all
of them. Some of the Chaui' got away and went back
to their village and told what had hapj)cned, and how
the Skidi had attacked them.

Now at this time the Chaui' and the Skidi tribes
were about equal in numbers, and the Chaui' did not
feel strong enough to attack the Skidi alone. They
were afraid, for thev knew that if thev did this, it
might be that the Skidi would defeat them. The
Kit'ka-hah-ki tribe were living on the Much Manure
River (Republican), and the Pita-hau-i'rat on the Yel-
low Bank River (Smoky Hill). To these two tribes
of their people the Chaui' sent the pipe, telling them

i'UAlUlH lUTTLKl'lKLDS.

1-20

wliat liiul lijipponcil, and askitif? tlicm fur lu'lp a<;iiiiist
the Skidi. Kacli of the trilx's licld a council about
tlic matter. All the best wjirriors and the wise old
men talked about it, and cacli one gave his opinion as
to what should be done ; and they ilecided to help the
Cliaui'. The two villages moved north and camped
close to the Chaui' village, and all the warriors of all
three tribes began to get ready for the attack. Hy
this time it was early summer, and the IMatte IJiver,
swollen by the melting of the snows in the mountains,
was bank full — too deep and swift to be crossed either
by wjiding or swimming. So the women made many
" bull boats " of fresh buifalo hides and willow branch-
es, and in these the Pawnee warriors crossed the stream.
The main village of the Skidi was ou the north side
of the Loup Kiver, only about twenty miles from that
of the Chaui'. The crossing of the Pawnees was ac-
complished late in the afternoon, and a night march
was made to a point on the south side of the Louj),
several miles below the Skidi village.

Here they halted and distributed their forces. One
hundred men, all mounted on dark-coloured horses,
M'ere sent further down the stream, and were told what
to do when morning came. The remaining warriors
hid themselves, half in the thick timber wiiich grew
in the wide bottom close along the river, and half in
the ravines and among the ridges of the sandhills
above this bottom. Between the sandhills and the
timber was a wide, level, open sjiace. The Pawnees
were so many that tlieir lines reached far up and down
the stream.

When daylight came, the one hundred men wlio
had been sent down the stream came filing down from
the prairie one after another. Each man was bent

i;ii)

TIIK STOUY OF TIIK INDIAN.

<lo\vn on liis horse's neck jiiid covered with his biilTah)
rohe, so that ut u distance these one hiiiulred rithrs
looived like one hundred hnlTaio, coniin;,' (h)\vn to the
water to drink. Tlie spot chosen for tiiein to })ass
(jonid he seen from tiie vilia^'e (»f the Skidi. In that
villaj^'e, a long way oil', some one wlio was watcinn«(
saw these animals, and called out to the others that
bulTalo were in si<,dit. It was at once decided to <ro
out and kill the ^^ame, and a lar^^e force of Skidi set
out to do this. 'J'hey crossed the river opposite the
villa^a', and ;^^dloped down the bottom on the south
side. In doin^' this, they had to pass between the
Pawnees who were hiddi-n in the tind)er and those in
the sandhills. Thev rode swiftlv down the river, no
one of tlieni all suspecting that anything was wronir;
but after they liad i)assed well within the I'awnce lines,
these burst ui)on them from all sides and charcred
them. Attacked in front, on either side, and in the
rear — taken wholly by suri)rise, and seeini; they were
outnumbered — the Skidi tried to retreat, and scat-
tering, broke through the lines wherever they could
and ran, but all tlie way up that valley the victorious
J*awnees slau,<rhtered them as they lied. 'J'hev took a
good revenge, and killed more than twice as numy of
the Skidi as those had of the Chaui'.

At last the Skidi w ho were left alive had crossed
the river and reached their village, and had told their
people what had happeiu'd, and how they had been
attacked and defeated, and had lost many of their
men. All the warriors who were left in the village
armed themselves, and came to the river bank to meet
the Pawnees when they should cross, determined to
die there fighting for their homes.

When the Pawnees reached the crossing, a part of

t T

PUAIKIK hattm:fii:li»s.

i:u

tlioin \Viiiiti'(l to foni the river sit onctMiml attack the
Skull vilhi^jc and kill all the ))0()|»lo in it, so that iioiu'
of the Skidi should be left alive. The chiefs and head
men of the I'ita-haii-i'rat and the Cham' wanted t(» do
this, but the Kit'ka-huh-ki chief said : " No, this shall
not be so. Thev have foui^ht us and made trouble,
it is true, but now we have puiushed them for that.
They speak our lant,MUi<;e, aiul they are the same jteo-
|)le with us. Thev are our relations, and thev must
not be destroyed." Hut the «)ther two tribes wero very
bitter, and said that the Kit'ka-hah-ki could do as
tlu'y liked, but that they were goinj; to attack the
Skidi villa<;e, burn it, and kill the people. For u lon<^
time they disputed ami almost (juarrelled as to what
should be done. At length the Kit'ka-hah-ki chief
got angry, and said to the others : "■ My friends, listen
to me. Vou keep telling me what you are going to do,
and that vou intend to attack this village and destroy
all these people, and you say that the Kit'ka-liah-ki
can do what they please, but that you intend to do as
vou have said. Very well, you will do what seems
good to you. Now 1 will tell you what the Kit'ka-
hah-ki will do. They will cross this river to the Skidi
village, and will take their stand by the side of the
Skidi and defend that village, and you can then try
whether you are strong enough aiul brave enough to
conquer the Kit'ka-hah-ki and the Skidi, fighting
side by side as friends." When the Chaui' and the
Pita-hau-i'rat heard this, they did not know what to
say. They knew that the Skidi and the Kit'ka-hah-ki
were both brave, and that together these two tribes
were as many as themselves. So they did not know
what to do. They were doubtful.

At last the Kit'ka-hah-ki chief spoke again, and

i;{2

TIIK STOKV OV TlIK IN hi AN.

said: " lirotlMTs, wlijit is tlio iiso of ((iiarrcllijij;^ over
tills. 'I'lic Sl\i{|i liiivc madt' troiiltlc Tlicy live hvw
\)\ tlictiisclvcs, away from tlic rest of us. Now let lis
iiial\e tlu'in move tltcir villa;,'(> over to tlH> IMattc and
iivo close! to us, so tiiat tlicy will Ik* a |iart of tlic I'aw-
lu't! Iriltc." To tliis |»ro|»ositioii ail tlic I'awju'cs, al'lcr
some tall\, ai^rccd.

'riu'y made si<,nis to tlic Sl<idi on tlio otlicr liaiik
that tlu'v (lid not wish to liLdit aiiv iiioiv, tlicv wanted
to talk now, and tlicn tlicv crosscil over. Thcv told
tluj SIvidi what tlicy liad decided to do, and theso,
cowed hv their di'l'i'at and awed hv the lariTc forco
()])])osed to them, a^jfreed to what had hc'cn decided.

'I'ho Pawnees took for themselves much of tho
property of the Skid is — many horses. This was to
punish them for having' l)roken tiie treaty. Also they
made many of the Skidi women marry into tiie other
J'awnee trihes, so as to establish closer relations with
them. Since that 'ime the Skidi have always been u
part of the Pawnee nation.

(*unninjjf is matched witli cunning in the following
storv, told me bv the Chevennes:

About the year 18.V^ the Pawnees and the C'hey-
cnnes had a light at a point on the liepubli(;an Itiver,
where there was a big horseshoe beiul in which much
timber grew. A war party of each tribe was passing
through the country, and the scouts of each discovered
the other at about the same time, but neither party
knew that its presence had been detected. The Chey-
ennes, however, suspecting that ])erhaps they had been
seen, displayed great shrewdness. They went into tho
timber, built a large fire, ate some food, and then cut
a lot of logs, which they placed by the fire and about
which they wrapped their blankets and robes, so that

IMJAIIlll'! M.\TTM:I'IKIJ)S.

\'M\

t\wy ln(»kt(l like liiitnan li^jiins l>iii;^' down asli'('|>.
Tlu'ii tlu' (licvciiiics rctinMl into tlic sliadow of a cut
hank and Wiiittd. Toward tlir middle of the ni;4lit,
after the liic liad Imrned down, the J'awnees were
seen eorniii;/, ereei>in,i; steaUliily tliron;:h the hrnsh,
ami wiieii they liad eome (lose to tlie tire, they made
an attaek, .^hootin^' at tlie supposed sU'epers, and then
t'inir;,'in;X upon thi'in. As soon as they were in tlie
(MUip and were uttaekin;; tlie dummies, the Cheyennes
he^ran to shoot, and then in their turn eliar<,n(], and in
the li<,dit wliieh followed eighteen or nineteen I'aw-
nees were killed.

The old Cheveiine who told me this, chuckled de-
lii,ditedly, as he remarked, "• The (.'heyennes often
laugh at this now."

The Indians set ii high value on life, and do not
willinglv risk it. Warriors and chiefs alwavs tried to
keep those under their commaiul from exposing them-
selves, for it was a disgrace for the leader of a war
party to lose any of his men. It was their policy to
inilict the greatest possihle injury on the enemy with
the least possil)le risk to themselves. 1'hey aimed to
strike a telling blow, and before the enemy liad recov-
ered from the suri)iise to put themselves out of the
way of danger. 'J'heir war was one of ambuscades
and sur])rises, and having been educated to this method
of fighting, they were not at all fitted to carry on bat-
tles in which there was steady and open lighting. In
liglit cavalry tactics or guerilla warfare they excelled,
but in the earlv davs thev could not face the steadv
lire of men at bay. Under such conditions they be-
came unsteady and soon broke. The fact that they
have been brought up to fight on a different principle
from the white man has gained for Indians the repn-

TIIK STOUV OK TIIK INDIAN.

I ^

S I

tation of bt-ing cowanls, but in l:;tcr years the warfare
of more tluin one tribe of plains Indians has demon-
strated tliat when thev have learned the wliite man's
way of ri<]:liting, they are as brave us he.

Kotwitl)standin<; all that lias been said, desperate
battles were now and then waged between Indian
tribes, fights which, for ferocity iind bravery, perhaj)s
equal anything that we know of in civilized warfare.
The last considerable light which took place between
the Piegan tribe and the allied Crows and (Jros Ven-
tres of the Prairie was such an one. The story of this
light, as I give it below, is compiled from the narra-
tives which I took down in the year liSlll from the
lips of three men "who were engaged in the battle, antl
I have no doubt that it is a fairly accurate account of
the events of the day. The occurrence is interesting
from the eomi)leteness of the victory and the great
number of the slain on the defeated side. Aside from
this, the account, as here given, is full of characteristic
Indian forms of thought, and, in the mjitter-of-fact
way in which its bloody details are related, it furnishes
an excellent illustration of the point of view from
which Indians look at war and its events.

It was toward the end of the summer, when the
cherries were ripe — twenty-four years ago (18GT) — that
this fight took phue. Wolf Calf was already old.
Mad Wolf was a young man just in his prime. Kaven
Lariat was a full-fledged warrior. Wolf Tail was
verv young; he had not vet taken a woman to sit be-
side him.

All the Piegans except Three Suns' band — in all
perhaps two thousand lodges — were camped about
twenty miles east of the Cypress Hills. On the day
before the fight, early in the morning, a single Piegan

PRAl Ul R HATTLKFI KM)S,

i;r>

liiul boon tnivolliiig aloii<^ iioav tlio Cypross Hills, on
his way back from a journey to war. Ho had only one
horse. As he was riding along, he j)assod near a largo
oanip of Crows and Gros Ventres, 'i'hey saw hini be-
fore he did thoni and ohasod him, but he rode in among
the pines and got away from them, and reaehed the
Piogan earn}) in safety. Ho gave the alarm, telling
the j)e()ple what he had soon, but they did not believe
jiim. They said : "■'J'his eannot be true. If two people
had said it, or three, we would believe it, but this man
is just trying to frighten us." So they did nothing.

'J'hc man who at this time was the chief of the
I'iogans was one of those who made the iirst troatv with
the whites. His name in that treaty was Sits in the
Middle. His last given name was Many Horses. On
the day when the light took place, early in the morn-
ing, before it was light, before they had turned loose
the horses, the old chief got up and said to his wife,
" Saddle up, now, and we will go out to whore I killed
biilfalo vesterdav, and got some meat and the brains."
His wife sad.^led the horses and thev started, and had
ridden quite a long way out on the prairie before it
became plain daylight.

About this time ^fad Wolf, as he lay in his lodge,
hoard a man on a little hill just outside the camp shout-
ing out : " Everybody get up and look. A groat herd of
buffalo is coming this way." !Mad Wolf s})rang ont of
bod and rushed out, naked as he was, and a few others
with him, not many. They saw the buffalo coming.
It was a great sight, a tremendous throng as far as ywu
could see, coming toward the camp, but still far off.
A man named Small Wolf took a few young men rjul
started out toward them, to kill some. After a little
time a man, who stood there on the hill looking, said :

i;
J' ,

!;•

i..

I :

136

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

" Hold on. Perhaps those sire not bufTalo. Are tliere
not some white animals amon*; tiiem ? Tliev mav be
horses." lie called to some one to bring him a Held
glass, and when he had looked through it, he said :
"Oh, it is just a multitude of people coming. They
are Crows and Gros Ventres." Then they all shouted
in a loud voice, for most of the people were still in
bed : "(iet out here! The Crows aud (Jros Ventres
are coming ! Take courage ! "

A war party of Piegans had been out, and, return-
ing, had camped close to the main Piegan camp; also
some people had gone out the night before to camp
close to the butTalo, so as to make a run early in the
morning. The enemy attacked these outlying parties
first, and drove them, killing some, and the people in
camp heard the shooting. About this time, Small
Wolf came running into camp, gasjjing for breath,
and called out: " Come rpiick and help us; my party
is almost overcome ! " Hy this time, too, the enemy
had run off about half the band of horses belonging
to ]N[any Horses.

In those days the people were not well armed.
Some of them had guns, but most had only bows and
arrows and lances and heavy whips.

The Piegans had run to drive their horses into
camp, and as they came in, they began to get ready to
go out and fight. The head men tried to persuade
the first ones to wait, so that all should start out to-
gether, but some were in too great a hurry to wait.

• By this time the enemy were close to the camp and
on a little ridge. There were women and bovs in the
party. The Piegans had begun to fight, but not very
many had yet gone out. A Piegan, named Scream-
ing Owl, whose medicine was very strong, was the

! {

PRAlIilH IJATTLEFIELDS.

137

first man shot. He was liit in the belly with a ball,
but it did not go into his body.

There was a (Jros Ventre ehief who was verv brave,
lie seemed to be going everywhere among his })eo-
])le, encouraging them aiul fighting bravely himself.
Some I'iegan shot this man, bieaking his leg above the
knee, and he fell. Then all the Crows and (iros
Ventres cried out in a mournful way that the medi-
cine had been broken, but still they stood about their
chief, and fought there and would not leave him, and
the Piegans could not drive tliem.

Not very long after the fight began, some of the
people found lying on the prairie the bodies of the old
chief Many ]Iorses and his wife, and a man named
Calf KuU, shouted out: " Now light well and do your
best. Our old chief is killed. We have found him
over here dead. Let us take vengeance on these ene-
mies." The Piegans all cried out, "Our father and
our chief is killed I" and they all made a noise and
sla}>ped their mouths and made a rush for the
Crows.

In another part of the field one of the enemy, who
could talk good I'iegan, stepped out to one side and
held up a pistol and said : " Piegans, here is your great
chief's gun. I have killed him and taken it. Take
courage now." Then an old Piegan, named Stinking
Head, called out to the Piegans: "Men, women, and
boys ! Old men, young men, and children ! They
have killed our great chief ! Take great courage ! "
Then they all took courage and shouted the warcry.

When the Piegans all learned that Many Horses
had been killed, they made so fierce a charge that
the enemy turned and ran. In a coiiUe toward tlie
Cypress Hills they had built some breastworks of

138

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

i li

\ !ll|i

' it

i i

I :

1 !

jiH

stones, and wlien the Picgans made this t'liarfje, the
Crows and (Jros Ventres ran to get beliind this siielter.
lint tlie I'iegans were so close beliind them that they
did not stop there, but ran on and out of the breast-
works on the other side, before they sto|)})ed and
turned to light. I'he I'iegans were close behind theni,
and Wolf Calf was riding ahead of all the others.
There was a Crow running on foot behind the rest,
and Wolf Calf dropped his rein and got ready to
shoot this man. He thought the young colt he was
riding was then running as fast as it could, but when
he lired his gun at the Crow, the horse ran so much
faster that before he could catch his rein to stop it,
he was right in the midst of the Crows. Half a dozen
shot at him, killing his horse and wounding him in the
leg above the ankle. As it happened, none of the
Crows near him now had loaded guns, but when his
horse went down, they all fell upon him and began to
pound him with their coup sticks and whip handles.
Then the Piegans who were near called out, " Come !
let us make a charge and save the old man before he
gets killed I" They rushed in and drove the enemy
back, and rescued Wolf Calf; White Calf, and two
others, now dead, pulling him out of the nit'h'e.

Wolf Tail this day did two brave things. Some
Piegans had surrounded a Gros Ventre, who was called
He Stabbed a Cood Many. This man still had his
gun loaded, and was pointing it at the Piegans and
keeping them of!, for they were afraid of him. AVolf
Tail was the last of the Piegans to get to him. He
rode up to the Cros Ventre, jumped otf his horse,
snatched the gun, and took it away from him. Then
he called out to the Piegans : " Come on now ; there
is no longer any danger. Come up and kill him ! "

PRAIRIE BATTLEFIELDS.

13{)

Wolf Tail walked away from the (iros Ventre, who
was then killed hy one of the Piegans.

After this he came up with another fJros Ventre,
who was shooting arrows. He also had a lance. Wolf
Tail rode up behind him, jumped oft liis liorse, and
seized the man. He took away from liim Ids lance
and arrows, pulled out his pistol, and shot him.

'J'he Crows and Ciros Ventres were now all running
away, and the Piegans were following and killing
them. They began with those who were on foot, cut-
ting them oir a few at a time, killing the meu and
taking the women and boys prisoners. There arc now
some middle-aged men in the Piegan camp who were
taken in this iight.

At last the footmen were all killed, and they made
a charge on the mounted men. Thev cut off a buncli of
these from the main body, and rushed them toward a
cut couUe and over a steep bank ; but when the Piegans
saw the enemy falling down the side of the rc»?//tV, they
rode around it and caught those who were left alive
as they were coming out, and killed them in bunches
of four or five. They kept following tlie main body
for hours, and at last they had been running and fight-
ing so long that all the Indians were now very tired,
and they could no longer run, but the enemy were
walking away and the Piegans walking after them.
The enemy's horses would give out and stop, and the
Piegans would kill tlie riders, for by this time the
Crows, and Gros Ventres were so frightened that they
no longer showed fight, and the Piegans had no
trouble in killing them. Some one overtook an old
Gros Ventre, who called out: "Spare me! I am
old ! " The Piegan's heart was touched and he was
going to spare him, but another man ran up and said,

V^-

140

tup: story of the indiax.

((

oil, yes, we will spare you," uiul lie blew out his

1 ■ I

.iii>

bruins.

Very few of the onemv were killed with Lnms. It
was not necessiiry. They killed some by running,' over
them with their horses, otiiers with bows and arrows,
others with hatchets, some they lanced, pounded some
on the heads with whips, stabbed some, and killed
some with stones. Thev followed them about ei'diteeu
miles. 'J'he trail that they made was a mile and a
half wide, and all along this the enemy were droi)ped,
here two or three, there half a dozen, as thick as buf-
falo after a killing.

At last they reached the gaj) in the Cypress Hills
where the pines are, and the enemy got in among the
timber. Then the Piegans said : " Come. That will
do. We have killed enough. Let us stop hero and
go back." So ti\ey returneil to their camp. They
counted as they were going back more than four hun-
dred dead of the eneniy, and there must have been
many more who had crawled into the grass and died.

After the figlit was over and the Piegans had
turned back, a (Iros Ventre woman, whose husband
had been killed and her daughter captured, made up
her mind that she would go back and look for them.
When she got into the timber, she said to the others
who were with her, " ^ly man is killed and my
daughter is gone, and I am going down into the Pie-
gan camp to find out what has become of her." She
still had a horse and rode down the mountain after
the Piegans. Lying on the prairie there was a Gros
Ventre Indian, who had been knocked down and
scalped, and had pretended that he was dead. Some
time after the Piegans had gone he opened his eyes,
and as he did so, he saw this woman riding by him.

rUAlUIE BATTLKFIHLDS.

lie called out to her and asked her to take him back
to the (iros Ventres, but she refused, tellin<; liini that
she was ^'oini; to look for her dan<;hter. The man
got up on his fi'et, but the skin of his forehead hung
down over his eyes so that it blinded him, and he had
to hold it up with one hand in order to see. Ho
walked toward the woman, who had stopped, talking
to her, and when he had come close to her, ho made a
rush toward her, so as to get hold of the horse's tail
and take the horse awav from the woman, so that he
could ride after his people. But when he tried to
grasp the tail, he reached out with both hands to
catch it, and the skin dropped over his eyes and
blinded him, and he stumbled and fell, and the wonum
avoided him, and presently when he got up and lifted
his skin, the woman was a good way otf. >She rode on
to the Piegan camj) and found her daughter there,
and both were adopted into the tribe and died there.

Up to the time when they returned to their own
camp, the Piegans had not known how many of their
own people they had lost. Now they learned that
three great chiefs, six warriors, and one woman had
been killed. Then all the Piegans cried, because they
thought so much of their chief Manv Horses. His
relations spoke to Four Bears, the camp orator, and he
Avent out through the camp and called out and said :
" Let every person bring one blanket each for the
burial of this chief, and each one who brings a blanket
shall take a rope and catch one horse out of his band."
The people did this, and gave Many Horses a great
funeral, for all liked him and his wife, because they
had been kind and generous to everybody.

Some time after the funeral. Four Bears went out
again through the camp and shouted out : " Bring out

142

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

your captives, your women and eliildrcn that you have
taken. Jiring out all the things that you have taken —
shieKKs, guns, arrows, bows, scal})s, medicine j)i])es ;
everything of value that you have taken — and put
them in a pile so that we can look at them." 1'he
people did this, and it nuide a line show. AVhen ail
these things were spread out, some great warrior went
along the line and took up each thing in turn, as he
came to it, and shouted out the mime of the person
who had taken it, so that everybody would know who
was brave. This was a coup. Even women and chil-
dren counted cuu2)s on the things they had taken.

CHAPTER IX.

IMPI.KMKXTS AXI) I\I) ISTRIKS.

The white man foinul the Indian a savji'jfe in tlie
stone age of development. For tlie most part the flesh
of heasts a!id the wild fruits of the earth nourished
him, skins sheltered and clad him, wood, stone, and
bono armed and equipped him. He had no knowledge
of metals, but he had learned how to fashion the stone
mace or warclub, to chip out flint knives and arrow-
points, to tan skins, to bake pots, and had invented
that complex weapon the bow and arrow. He had a
hunting companion, the dog, which was also his beast
of burden.

No one now can tell the story of the Indian's ad-
vance in culture: what was the history of the bow or
the stone-pointed arrow ; who first devised the lodge
or the dog travois. All these things are said to have
been given them by the Creator, who had pity on his
children, once without means of defence against the
stronger beasts, and who starved when roots and ber-
ries were not to be had. For tradition tells us of a
time between the creation of the red man and the
coming of the white man, when the Indian lacked
even the simple weapons that his Creator gave him
later. Some of the stories say that then men had no
liands, only paws, armed with long claws like a bear,
and that with these they unearthed the roots of the

143

144

TIIK STOIIV OF TIIK INDIAN.

prairie, or divw (lowii to tlu'ir fact's the l)riiii('li('s of
th(* berry l)iislit's ladi-n witii ripo fruit. 'I'licii, iiidi'i'ti,
the i>eo])le were |)(ior, weak, aiwl i^Miorant, a!i(l had no
means of ^^'ettiu^ a liviii;^. Then they must liave Ix'eii
a jtrey to the wihl creatures. Tiie hulTah) are said to
liave eaten them, aiul not only tlie hulTah) but tlic deer
and the antelope as well. After this, the stories po on,
they leariu'd tlie art of makinj^ snares and traps, in
which thev took the small(M* wild creatures, whose flesh
furnislied th(>m a |)art (»f their subsistence, and whose
skins were their first clothin<jf. Tiie club no d(»ul)t
thev already had, and from this the evolution of the
stoiu'-headed axe or hammer was natural. Witii these
they pounded to death the aninuds that they cau<;:ht
in their siuires. Perhaps the knife was next invented,
aiul then the lance — which is only a knife with a lon<(
handle — and this may sometimes luive been thrown
from the hand. Last, and by far the j^reatest of all,
must have come the woiulerful discovery of the bow
and arrow, lint of the manner of these inventions
and of their sequence no memory or tradition now
remains.

For the most part tbe Indians of the Wctsfc lived in
skin lodijes. This was partly because sucli (lwellin<(s
were warm, dry, and easily obtained, but esjiecially be-
cause they were light and convenient aiul could readily
be moved about from place to place, and so were in
all respects suited to the needs of a nomadic people.
J5ut not all the Indians were dwellers in tents. The
evolution of tbe bouse bad progressed far beyoiul the
single-roomed shelter of grass or bark or skins. The
Indians of the East had large connected bouses of
poles, sometimes fortified. The Pawnees and Mandans
built great sod or dirt houses, in which many families

■

IMPLKMKN'TS AND INDl'STKIKS.

14:.

i«

lived in cotmnon, tlio sleeping,' places about the walls
lu'in;,' separated hy perriianeiit wooden partitions, wliilo
in front (»f each a curtain was let down so as Ut form
an actual room. l''urther to the south are still in use
the man.v-r(»ome(l, many-storied houses of the Puchlo
jM'ople, whii'h were the hij,du'.»:t development (»f the
liousc anion;,' the Indians north of Mexico.

'I'radiiion warrants us in lu'lievin'Mhat majiv tribes
who now live in lod;;es once had permanent iiouses,
and that the exclusive use of skin lod;,'es among the
]>lains tribes may liave come about in c(»mparatively
recent times. Many of these tribes have lived on these
iilains for a short time onlv — sav two or three cen-
turies — havitig migrated thither from some earlier
home, and manv of them liavc traditions of a time
when they lived in permanent liouses, though often
the storv is so vague that nothing is known of the
character of these dwellings. The Pawnees, on the
otiier hand, say that in their ancient home — which
was probably on the Pacillc slo])c — they dwelt in
houses ))uilt of stone.

The highest development of architecture within
tlie lustoric period was in the south, as shown by the
ruins of Central America, Mexico, and Arizona; yet
tribes who lived in the north, whether 0!i the Atlan-
tic or Pacific slopes, liad permanent dwellings, and it
seems probable that those which we have known only
us nomads may have retrograded in this res])ect, and
lost the art of building which they once possessed.

The common movable home of the ])lains tribes was
the conical tipi made of a number of dressed bulTalo
skins, sewed together and supported by about sixteen
lodge poles. To the north, among the Lake Winni-
peg Chippeways, the tipi covering is of birch bark,

14a

TIIK STOUY OF TIIK INDIAN.

wliicli, wlic'ii doiu' up for truMsporhitioti, is iti suvon
rolls. 'IMic liirL,'i'st iiiul loii^jist when unrolled ri'aclics
around the Iodide poli's iit the ^M'ound from one side of
the door to tlio other; the one next in len;^'th fits
around the ]tn\<^o poles uhove the lower strip, liippinij
u littler over it, so as to shed the rain. Oiu' still shorter
goes on above this, and so on to the top of the eotie.
At both ends of each strip there is a lath-like slick of
wood to keep the bark from frayin<^ or split tin;;;. The
pieces of which these strips are ('(tniposed are neatly
sewed toi^ether with taniarak roots — wafftiji', 'VUv.w.
are no win^j^s or ears about the snu)keholes of such a
lod«;e, but these are iu.)t needed in the timber where it
is used.

The larufo sod houses of the Pawnees, Arickaras, and
Mandans, have often been described. The Wichitas
build odd-looking beehive-like dwellings of «j[rass ; the
lio<;ans of the Xavajoes are of brush and sticks ; both
walls and roofs of the houses of the northwest coast
Indians arc made of shakes, split from the cedar. On
the whole, the dilTerenco between the homes of the
various tribes is very great.

Food sup])ly and defence against enemies depeiuled
on the warrior's weapons. These were his most precious
possessions, and ho gave much care to their manufac-
ture. Knowing nothing of metals, he made his edge
tools of sharpened stones. Let us sec how the arrow-
maker worked.

The camp is sleepy, for it is midday and the heat
of the blazing sun has driven almost every one to seek
the shade. The few young men who have not gone
out to hunt are asleep in the lodges, and most of the
women have put aside for the time their work on the
hides and meat, and are sitting in the lodges sewing

IMIM.KMKNTS AND IVDl'STIJlKS.

14"

ni'icrasiiij?, or else arc poundinj; clMikc cliorrics, seated
on tlie ^M'ouiul beneath skins spread over poles to make
a sliade. Oidv liere and there one, old and verv indns-
trious, is hard at work, earek'ss of the heat. Kvi-n
the children for tin- time have stopped thrir noise and
retired to tlie frinp'of hnshes aion,!,' the stream, wiierc;
they are phiyin;,' quietly. Near a iod;j:e, small and
weather-beaten, two men seated under a shade are
hard at W(»rk. Kaih holds hctween his knee.s a block
of stone, from which, by li^'ht sharp blows of a small
stone hammer, he is chipping olT triangular Hakes of
Hint for makinur arrowheads. The nuiterial used by
one of the men is a black obsidian obtained by trade
from the Crows to the south, while the (tther has a
l)iecc of milky chalcedony |>icked up in the moun-
tains to the west. Kach of these blocks luis been
sweated by being buried in wet eartii, over which a
fire has been built, the object of this treatnuMU l)eing
to bring to light all the crac.'ks ami checks in the stone,
so that no unnecessary labour need be })orformed on a
piece too badly cracked to be profitably worked. As
the workmen knock olT the chips, they turn the blo(,'ks,
so that after a little they become roughly cylindrical,
always growing smaller and smaller, until at length
each is too small to furnish more Hakes. Thev are
then put asKte,

Each man now collects all the flakes ho had
knocked off, and, piling them together on one corner
of his robe, carefully examines each one. Some arc
rejected at a glance, some put in a pile together as
satisfactory, while over others the arrow-maker pon-
ders for a while, as if in doubt. Presently he seems
to have satisfied himself, and prepares for his second
operation. For this he takes in his left palm a pad of
11

.'I?

II II

148

THE STOKV OF THE INDIAN.

buckskin large enoui^li to cover ami protect it while
holding tiie sharj) Hake, while over his right hand ho
slips another piece of tanned hide something like a
sailniaker's "palm," and used for the same pur[)ose.
Against his "]>alni" the arrow-maker places the head
of a small tool — a straight })iece of deer or antelope
horn or of bone — about four inches long, and })ressing
its point against the side of the piece of flint held in
the other iiand, he Hakes olf one little ciiip of the
stone and then another (tlose to it, thus passing along
the edge of the unformed Hint until one side of it is
straight, and then along the other. He works quickly
and apparently without much care, except when he is
near the point, for this is a delicate place, and care-
lessness or haste here may endanger the arrowhead ;
for, if its point should be broken, it is good for noth-
ing. Sometimes an unseen check will cause the head
to break across without warning, and the labour ex-
pended on this particular piece is thus wasted. But
usually the arrow-maker works rapidly and spoils but
few points. After the head is shaped, there are often
left some thin projecting edges which mar its sym-
metry and add nothing to its elTectiveness. These are
broken off cither by pressure or by a sharp blow with
some light instrument, such as a bit of bone or of hard
wood.

The making of these stone points has now been
almost entirely forgotten, but I have seen a beautiful
and perfect dagger, six or eight inches long, made
from a piece of glass bottle.

There is a wide variation in the shape and size of
these stone points. Some are very small, others large,
some are fine and delicate, and others coarse and
clumsy. The edges are usually regular and fjiirly

IMIM.HMENTS AND INDLSTHIKS.

141>

smootli, hilt soinetiines serrated. A woiuul iiillu'tcd
bv one of tliem is said to iiave been niucli more serious
tlian that inflicted by a hoop-iron point, and the In-
dian of to-day believes tliat tiie stone points had some-
what the ell'ect of a poisoned arrowiiead. There is a
grain of fonnihition for tliis, since tlie stone jioint
wouM make a rairujed wound, and tlio i)oint if deeply
buried in the flesh could not easily be extracted or
})ushed on through, but would readily become detached
from the arrow shaft. On the other hand, it would
make a clean W(mnd, which would heal much more
easily than a bullet wound.

These arrowheads were roughly triangular in
shape, but often had a short shank for attachment to
the shaft. This shank, or the middle part of the short
side of the triangle, was set into a notch in the shaft,
fastened by a glue nnide from the hoofs of the buffalo,
and made additionally scccre by being whipped in
place by line sinew strings, put on wet.

The arrow shafts are not less important than the
heads. They should be straight, strong, and heavy, and
for this reason year-old shoots of the dogwood, cherry,
or service berry make the best arrow wood. The Indians
of the southwest use reeds of the cane, and with them
the shaft is often composed of three or more pieces
Some tribes nse shoots of the willow, uut this warps
so readily and is so light and weak that it v ill hardly
be employed if any other wood can be had. Tlie
length and thickness of the shaft varies with the tribe
— as does also the n .inner of feathering, of fastening
on the heads, and of painting — but it almost always
has two or three winding grooves throughout its
length, the purpose of which is said to be to facilitate
the flow of blood, and probably also the arrow's en-

ffi

::!

1
i

150

TIIK STOUY OF THE IXDIAX.

trance into the flesh. The arrow shafts, after bein^^
cut and scraped free from bark, are l)onnd together in
bundles and hung up to dry in the lodge, where it is
warm. AVhen partly neasoncd, they are taken down
and picked ovrr. 'i'iioso whieii are not entirely
straight are handled, bent this way and that, and the
bundle is then again hung up, and left until the wood
is thoroughly seasoned, when the shafts are again gone
over and the bad ones rejected. Usually they are
brought down to the proper thickness by scraping with
a bit of flint or glass, or with a knife, but often a slab
of grooved sandstone is usetl for this j)urpose. '^I'his
has the same elfect as if they were sandpapered down.
The grooves in the shaft are nuule by passing it through
a hole bored through a rib or a vertebra's dorsal spine,
or sometimes, it is said, by i)ressure of the teetl\, in
which the wood is lield while being bent. This hole
is just large enough for the shaft to pass through,
and is circular, except for one or two projections,
which press into tlie wood and cut out the grooves.
The feathers are usually three in number, put on with
glue, but wound above and below with sinew. The
notch for the string is deep and in the same plane
with the arrow's head. The private mark of the owner
is usually found close to the end of the featheis. It
may be a fashion of painting or some arrangement of
stained feathers. The feathers are rarely two or four,
and their length varies greatly with the tribe. They
are usually taken from birds of prey.

The most important part of the warrior's equip-
ment was the bow, and over no part of it was more
time and labour spent. In every lodge there were
kept sticks of bow wood, some of them so far ad-
vanced in manufacture that but little labour was re-

niI'LKMKNTS AND INDUSTlilKS.

151

(liiirotl to conipli'te tliem. Wliilc the bow was usually
inade of wood, bone and horn were also used. Those
of bone were fashioned of two or more pieces of the
rib of some large animal — an elk or a bulfalo — neatly
fitted and spliced together. Those of elk horn were
also made of several i)ieces, fitted and glued together,
and wra])ped with sinew. liulTalo or sheep lioru
bows were made of several pieces, whicli were boiled
or steamed and straightened before being put to-
gether, liows made of horn or bone were very stifT,
and sometimes could hardly be drawn by a white man,
though handled by their owners with apparent ease.
Their manufacture was a long, slow process, and they
were highlv valued, and it was not easv to induce an
owner to sell one. They were nuide chiellv among
the mountain Indians, such as the Crows, Snakes, and
Utes, but were often traded to other tribes.

Almost all the native woods in one section of the
country or another were used for bows. In later
times hickory was a favourite wood, and old oxbows
were highly valued by the Indians, who used to steam
and straighten them and then make them into bows.
Other woods employed were the osage orange, ash,
cedar, yew, choke cherry, and willow. The wood was
seasoned with care, worked down carefully, stiaight-
ened again and again, oiled and handled, and, finally,
as the last operation, the nocks were cut, the sinew
backing applied, a wrapping of buckskin secured
about the grip of the bow, and it was finished. Good
bows of plains and mountain tribes were always backed
with sinew, whicli added much to the spring and
strength of the weapon. Some tribes toward the
Pacific coast backed their bows with salmon skin.
The bowstring was always made of twisted sinew.

152

TIIK STOUY OF TIIK INDIAN.

The bow and jirrows wore carrictl in ji bow ease and
quiver, fastened to^^ether and slung over tlie slionlder.
Tlic eovering of tliese was often otter or pantber skin,
tlie bide of a butl'ah) ealf, or, in hiter times, of domestic
cattle.

Among most of ibe plains tribes tbe use of tbe bow
was discontinued long ago, and at tbe present time
only boys' bows are in use. Tbe old familiarity and
skill witli tbe arm are lost. In old times, bowever, tbe
bow at sbort range was an extremely elfective weapon,
and a skilled arcber could sboot so rapidly tbat be bad
no dinicultv in keeping several borizontallv directed
arrows in tbe air at tbe satne time. The bow could
be sbot nu)re rapidly and elTectively than a revolving
pistol.

Tbe power of the bow is well known. There are
perfectly well autbenticated instances where two buf-
falo, running side by side, have been killed by tbe same
arrow, and it was not unconunon for an arrow to go
so far through an animal that the point and a part
of tbe shaft projected on the other side. The arrow
could be sbot to a distance of three or four bundrcd
yards.

The stone axe, the maul, and the lance were all
simple weapons. The axehead was usually of soft
stone, grouiul down to an edge, ami a groove was
worked out at right angles to its length, so that tbe
green witbe by wbicb it was fastened to tbe handle
should not slip olf. Over tins, green rawhide was
sewed witb sinew, and this bide usually extended over
tbe wliole length of tbe bandle. The maul or war-
club was made of a grooved oval stone, fastened to a
bandle in the same way as tbe axe. The club bad a
long bandle and carried a small stone, no larger than

IMPLEMENTS AND INOUSTKIES.

ir>3

a man's list. 'I'lie Avoiium's maul was sliort liaiidUMl
uihI tlio stoMu was large and heavy. The laneehead
was made of ilint, flaked .siiarp, and lashed to a shaft
with sinew or wet rawhide strin.i;s.

A very important i)art of the warrior's oiitllt was
the shield, with which he sto])i)ed or turned aside iho
arrows of his enemy. It was usually circular in shape,
and was made of the thick, shrunken hide of a bulTalo
buITs neck. It was heavy enough to turn the ball
from an old-fashioned smooth-bored gun. The shield
was usually highly ornamented, and often had the
wari'ior's "medicine" jjainted on it, and was often
fringed with eagle feathers about its circumfer-
ence.

(.'lothing was made of skins tanned with or without
the fur. Bull'alo tribes, as a rule, wore clothing jnade
for the most part of the skins of this animal, and used
comparatively little buckskin. As their work was
chiefly on these large heavy skins, they were poor tan-
ners by comparison with those tribes which lived in
the mountains and made their clothing largely of deer
skin. The leggings, shirts, and women's dresses, have
often been described. ^loccasins for summer wear
covered the foot only, not coming up over the ankle,
but winter moccasins were provided with a high flap
which tied about the ankle under the logging. Some
tribes used moccasins made wholly of deer skin and
without a sole ; with others a parfleche sole was al-
wavs i»rovided. Thev were ornamented in front with
stained porcupine quills, or in later times with beads ;
sometimes, too, there are little fringes about the ankle
or down the front, and two little tags from the heels.
All the sewing of this clothing was done with thread
made of sinew, and in old times with awls made of

l.n

TIIH STUUY OF TlIK INDIAN.

hi
ill

bono or stilT tliorns. Such sewing was very eiuluriii^,
uiul tlie dressed skin would wear out before tlie seams
^•d\() way.

Many of tlie tribes — especially those to the south —
made a simple pottery, either formed on a mould or
else within or without a frame of basket-work, which
sometimes was afterward burned awav in the bakin<^
The best pottery, that of the southwest, was often, if
not always, made by coiling a long rope of chi}', tier
above tier, until the vessel was completed. Some of
the ware so nuide was singularly graceful and perfect.
Often it was ornamented by indented markings drawn
while the clay was soft, or by figures painted before
the baking. AVith the advent of the whites and the
introduction of vessels of metal, the manufacture of
such pottery ceased, and it is now carried on in but
very few tribes.

Among the northern tribes, where pottery was least
known, ladles, spoons, bows, and dishes were usually
formed from horn or wood. The horns of the bulTalo,
the mountain sheep, and tlie white goat were used for
these purposes, those of the hist-named species being
often elaborately carved and ornamented by the north-
west coast tribes. Plates or dishes made of pieces of
buffalo horn fitted and sewn together with sinew were
common. Excrescences on tree trunks, knocked off
and hollowed out, made good wooden bowls. Stone
pots and ollas and stone mortars were common, es-
pecially on the southwest coast, as were also the basalt
mills used for grinding the corn, metates. Some plains
tribes used wooden mortars, usually made of oak or
some other hard wood, with a long and heavy wood-
en pestle. The Lake "Winnipeg Chippeways still
use a mill of two circular stones, revolving one upon

TMPLKMENTS AND IXnUSTKlKS.

y.K

O,)

tlic otlior, 1)ut the idoji of this may havo boon bor-
rowed from tlie whites. liy some tribes eiips and
buckets wore made from tlio lininuj of tlie biifTah)'s
pauiu'h, and many others wove l)asketwaro, so ti^ht
tiiat it would lu)ld water, and sucli vessels were even
used to cook in, the water being heated with hot
stones.

Implements for tanninjT — fU'shers — were made of
stotio, wiih the eil<^os flaked olT until they were sharp,
or of elkhorn steamed and bent at one end for three
inches at right angles to the course of the antler and
sharpened, or of bono, as the cannon bone of a bulTalo,
cut diagoiuilly so as to give a sharp edge, and notched
along this sharpened border. All these were servicea-
ble, and were commonly employed.

The dilTerent tribes had but slight knowledge of
the textile art, and this knowledge seems to have been
greatest in the south and on the coast. Many tribes
wove biiskets and mats of reeds and grass, yet the
plains Indians, who had in the fleece of the buffalo an
excellent material for weaving cloth, never seem to
have got any further than to twist ropes from it. The
^lokis of the south and the coast tribes of the north
practised the aboriginal art of blanket-weaving, and
the Xavajoes, after they obtained their flocks from
the Spaniards, took up this art and now practise it in
singular perfection. The blanket-weaving of the north
is less skilfid. The rounded hats woven of cedar bark
by the northwest coast tribes deserve mention. The
plains tribes plait robes of rawhide ; those of the north-
ern coast make ropes of cedar bark, and long fishing-
lines by knotting together the slender stems of the
kelp.

Three vehicles were known to the primitive In-

il !

;: M

•If

i:»<;

TIIK SToliV ol' Till-: INDIAN'.

;

.n:

(lian — tlic trjivois in tlu^ soiitli and tlio slctli^^o in tlio
north for land travel, and i\w. canoe wlicrcvcr tlicro
were water wavs. The sled<'e could l)e used oidv when
the <;round was suow-covereil, and it was scarcely
known south of the i)arallel of oi)\ In prinutive
times hoth sledi^e and Iravois were drawn i»vdoi;s, hut
as soon as horses were ohtaiiu'il, the (ln;^'s were t'rectl
from tlu^ travois, and horses drew the loads. l''roni
tinu' inmu'jiiorial the travois i»as l)een used hy the
l)lains savai^e to transport ids possessions, and it is
only wlu'ii ho makes Ins first slow step toward civili-
zation that he exchanii'es it for a wairon. What his
canoo is to the Indian who traverses the water ways of
the north, or his do^f sle(l<|;o to the fur-clad Innuit, the
travois* is to the dweller on the i)lains. Where in
use to-day, it consists of two i)oles about the size of
lo(li;(^ poles, crossed near their smaller ends, aiul toward
the larger held in place by crosspieces three feet apart,
'^riie space between tliese two cross braces is occupied
by a stilT rawhide nettinu^ runiuncf from one pole to
the other, and stroncf enouijh to carry a wei^dit of sev-
eral hundred poutids. The crossed ends of the poles
are phiced over a horse's withers just at the front of
the saddle, and the separated braced ends drag upon
the ground behind. The body and hips of the liorse
are in the empty space between tlie angles at the
withers and the iirst crosspiece, which comes close
h(>hind the lioeks. IJearing a part of the weight on
Ins shoulders, the horse drags this rude contrivance

* This is a FiuMich trapper word, perhaps a eorru[)tioii of
frnrcrs or a trairrs, across, referring to the crossing of the
poles over the horse's withers. It liarilly seems that it can come
from franni.r or fntinraii, as lias been suggested.

1 )[i!

! 1:1

IMIM.KMKNTS AND INDl'STKIKS.

157

Hiul its load over tlio roiiLjli prairio, aloiiij narrow
iiioimtaiii trails or throii^^^ii ljurryiji<; torri'iits, with
rari'Iy a niisliap. On the i)latt'orin of the travois are
carrit'cl loads of meat from tlic biilTalo-kiiiiii'r, the va-
rious possessions of the owner in nio\ in<; camp from
plaee to })laee, a sick or wounded individual too weak
to ride, and sometimes a wickerwork ca'fe shajied like
a sweat lod^re, in wiiich are confined small ciiildren,
or even a family of tiny puppies with their mother.
'I'hini,'s that cannot he conveniently ])acked on the
ha(;ks of the horses are put upon the travois. Some-
times the travois bears the dead, for with certain tribes
it is essential to the future well-heinj; of tiie departed
tiiat they he brought back to the tribal burying ground
near the village.

The highest type of Indian canoe is that of birch
bark, employed by the tribes of the north and north-
east, yet in many respects the canoe of tlie northwest
coast c(|uals or excels it. The latter being of wood,
ami of one piece, is much niore substantial than the
birch ; yet even it must be cared for, since a rough
knock or two on the beach may split it from end to
end, and if it should receive injury, the work of re])air-
ing is much more dillicult than that of patching a
bark canoe. The vessels used on the northwestern
coast varv in leuiith I'rom ten to eightv feet, and are
hollowed out from the trunk of a single tree of the
white cedar. After the tree truidv has been flattened
above and roughly shaped, Jie work of hollowing it
out begins. Fires are built on the top of the log, care-
fully watched, and so controlled that they burn evenly
and slowly down into the Avood. AVhen they have
gone far enough, they are extinguished, the interior is
scraped, and then the canoe-builder, using a wooden

]

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

■;MIIIM IM
;; ilM 11^

■: 1^ 12.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

M 6" —

►

<^h

■c).

"m ^^y^'

(pi

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

«-

'iv

V .^''^i^^

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

C-^<

Q',

158

TlIK STORY OF THE INDIAN.

ii!'

IiiukIIc in whicli is fastened ii small cliisel, carofnlly
goes over tlie wiiole surface. At each blow he takes
off a little scale of wood, as larije as a man's thumb and
quite thin, and this ho continues, within ami without,
until the canoe is completed. It is then braced by
two or more crosspieces, which are sewed to the gun-
wales with steamed cedar twigs on cither side, so that
tlie vessel cannot spread. Tiie painting follows, a d
tlie vessel is ready for use. Oidy seasoned and i)erfect
timber is used for these canoes.

In such canoes, the Indians of the north Pacific
make long jonrncys over the open seas, often ventur-
ing out of sight of land, facing rough weather, and
ca})turing sea otters, seals, sea lions, and whales. The
larger canoes wore used to carry war parties, and the
sudden appearance of one of those great boats full of
fighting men carried consternation to the hearts of
the dwellers in the village that it threatened. Trav-
ellers in those canoos, when they meet a heavy head
wind, are often obliged to lie windbound for days be-
fore they can continue their journey.

Besides the long pointed paddles with a crossbar
at the handle, which arc used to propel the canoos,
each of the larger ones is provided with a mast stepped
in a chock in tlie bottom, and supported by one of the
forward crossbars. A spritsail is used with a following
wind, but as the canoos have no keel, it is impossible
to beat, and even with a beam wind the vosbol slips
rapidly off to leeward.

Dugouts widely different from those of the north-
west coast, and canoes made of pine or spruce bark,
some of the canoe

peoph

Kocky ^[ountains, the Kutonais, Kalispels, and others.
Those of bnrk are qn' 3 remarkable in type, being

IMPLEMENTS AND INDUSTRIES.

1 51)

miieli longer on tlie bottom than the top, uiul tcrnii-
nating before and behind in a long slender point,
which looks somewhat like the ram of a man-of-war.
The bark is stripped olf the tree trnnk in a single
piece, the outer surface being sluived or scraped
smooth. It is then bent inside out, so that the in-
side of the canoe is formed of the outside of the bark.
The ends are then brought together and sewed up
with long fd)res of roots, the awl or needle used being
of bone. The seams are pitched with gum from the
spruce. The gunwale on either side is sti-engtheiied
by strips of hard wood, sewn to the bark by roots or
cedar bark, and these strips meet and are fastened to-
gether at either end of the boat, and along the cut
edge of the bark on either side of the two ends, a strip
of hard wood is sewn and the two strips lashed togeth-
er. The boat is strengthened by ribs of hard wood,
which run across from one gunwale to the other, fol-
lowing the skin of the canoe, and a number of longi-
tudinal strips form a flooring and strengthen the sides.
Thus the vessel, like the birch canoe, has a real frame,
though this is built inside the skin, reversing the usual
order. Crossbars or thwarts run from gunwale to gun-
wale, and give additional stiffness. Sometimes the
bark immediately below the gunwales is from the birch
tree. The paddle has a straight, simple handle, with-
out crosspiecc. These canoes are thus quite elaborate,
but they are extremely difficult to handle by one who
is not accustomed to tliem, and turn over on verv small
provocation.

The birch bark canoe of the northern Indians is
identical with that used in the east, and its form and
material are familiar to all. It is a graceful, seaworthy
structure, very light and easily transported from place

-i'!

'.t

t'tl ,

in-

100

THE ST?JRY OF THE INDIAN.

V I ■

to pliic'o, and very readily r('})aiivd. It is in goiu'val
uso tiirougliout tlio nortli.

On tlio plains, canoes arc unknown, for there are
110 water wavs which make them necessarv, and thon^h
many trihes whicli liad migrated from the east had in
their earlier homes made and used tliese vehicles, yet
when the conditions of their life nuide them unneces-
sary, the art of building them was soon forgotten. On
some of the lai'ger streams, liowever, boats were needed
to ferry across the chattels of the jieojjle when travel-
ling, and this want was suj)[)lied by the invention of
the " bull boat." This was something like the skin
coracle of the ancient liritons, but was even more
})i'imitive. It was a circular vessel, shaped like a shal-
low teacup, made of a fresh buffalo hide stretched over
a frame of green willow branches. All the holes in
the skin were sewed up, and all the seams pitched with
tallow. The vessel was carefully loaded with goods
for transportation, a place being left at one point for
the paddler. Owing to the shai)e of the boat, it could
not be rowed or paddled in the ordiiuiry way. The
"woman dipped lier paddle in the water and drew it
directly toward her, aiul toward the side of the boat,
and in this way pulled the boat to the opposite shore.
]Men did not often use these boats, but usually swam
over with the horses. 8uch boats were not perma-
nent, for as soon as they had served their purpose,
the frames were torn out of them and the hides were
used for some other purpose. Bull boats were used
chiefly on the lower ^lissouri and Platte rivers. On
the upper Ivlissouri, rafts were the only means of ferry-
ing across the streams.

The Indian's ideas of art are rude. He has an eye
for bright colors, but no notion of drawing. His fig-

IMPLEMENTS AND INDUSTRIES.

u;i

iiros of men aiul aiuinal.s iirc <rrotcpqiio, and are as
^n'otcsquc'ly painted in staring luii'S of ivd, yt'llow, and
blaciv, his paints being bnrnod clays and charcoal. In
liis pottery and his carving, however, he is more ad-
vanced. Some of his water jars and other vessels
have very gracefnl shapes, and some pots, representing
human heads, which have been exhumed from the an-
cient mountls, are full of character.

It is in the art of carving, however, that the great-
est skill was shown. Using the soft catlinite of the
pipe-stone quarry, the i)lains warrior whittled out his
great red pipe as symmetrically as if turned in a lathe,
often ornamenting it with the head and neck of a
liorse or a bear. The canoe man of Puget Sound
carved the soft cedar of the canoe prow into a figure-
head. I'he XavMJoes of the south and the llaidahs of
the north arc skilled silversmiths to-diiy, and the
dwellers on the British Columbia and Alaskan coasts
still fashion the great totem ])oles, which tell the story
of their descent from some mythical jincestor. Aery
remarkable skill is shown by the (Jueen Charlotte's
Sound Indians in their work in a black slate rock
which they carve into all sorts of shapes. I have
seen jdatters and dishes, pijios, and models of houses,
beautifully carved and often inlaid with carved bits
of ivory taken from the teeth of the walrus or the
whale.

Great time and patience must be expended on this
work, and on the drilling of straight holes through
the stems of their pipes, some of them four feet in
length. Vv'hile the bowls of these pi])es are most often
of the stone known as catlinite, sometimes they are
of wood or bone, or even petrified wood or quartz
pebble.

■1

1^ I

■1

U'r2

THE STORY OF TlIK INDIAN.

Tlie imisiciil iiistrunioiits of the Indian are few.
Drums, \vlii.stk'S, and a llageoU't with three or four
stops complete tlie list. 'Jdie whistles arc used ehieily
in war, tiie drum in festal or religious ceremonies.
The hunuui voice is the chief musical instrument of
these people, for they are unwearied singers.

; 1

-3
G
7i

a
o
o

■It

ij
^

■a
■n

I ;• I, ,^1

jiiii

. ^1

. : I I

' S

M ji

I I

CI I AIT KU X.

MAN AM) X ATT UK.

ii,

Like the wild bird and the beast, like the cloud
and the forest tree, the })ri!nitive savage is a part of
nature. lie is in it and of it. He studies it all
thr()u<,di his life. He ean read its language. It is
the one thing that he knows. He is an observer.
Nothing escapes his e3e. 'i'lie signs of clouds, the
blowing of the winds, the movements of birds and
animals — all tell to him some storv. It is bvobservinjr
the^e signs, reading them, and acting on them that he
procures his food, that he saves himself from his f^ne-
niies, that he lives his life.

But though a keen observer, the .Indian is not a
reasoner. He is quick to notice the connection be-
t veen two events, but often he does not know what
that connection is. He constantly mistakes efTect for
cause, post lioc for projiter hoc. If the wind blows
and the waves begin to roll on the surface of the lake,
he says that the rolling of the waves causes the blow-
ing of the breeze. The natural phenomena which
we understand so little, he does not understand at all.
In his attempts to assign causes for them, lie gives
explanations which are grotcsrjue. The moon wanes
because it is sick, and at last it dies and a new one
is created ; or it grows small because mice are gnaw-
ing at its edges, nibbling it away. He hears a grouse

108

.1M&

'^M-

'Sb

ft-.

i ]

TIIK STOUV OF 'VV.V. INDIAN.

riao from tlie <;rc)im(l witli a roar of wind's, and can-
cliiflcs tliat till' roar of the tliiiiKlcr imi.>it ho iiuulo by
a bird rmu'li lar;j:('r; or he sees an unknown binl riso
from tlic ^M'onnd, and just as it Hies tlic tbnndor rolls,
briico tliis bird causes tiiL' tbunder aiul is tbc thunder
bird.

'I'o liini the sun, moon, and stars arc j)rrsons.
'I'iio ainmals, Irees, and mountains are powers ami In-
tel li;.ienees. The ravens foretell events to como, the
wolves talk to bim of matters which are ]iap})ening at
a distaiu'c. if he is unhappy and i)rays I'ervi'Utly for
lu'lp, sonu^ animal may take pity on him and assist
liiin by its miracndons power. He understands his
own weakness ami realizes the streuLTth of the forces
of nature. He realizes, too, their incompivhensibility.
To him they are mysteries.

The liulian's life is full of tbiuij^s tliat he does not
umlerstand — of the mysterious, of the superhunuin.
These mysteries he greatly fears, and he pravs without
ceasing that he nuiy be delivered from th.' unknown
])erils which tlireaten liim on every lumd. He luis a
wholesome dread of material dangers, of enemies on
the warpath, of bears in the mountains; but far nH:)ro
than these he fears the mysterious powers that sur-
round him — powers which are unseen until they strike,
which leave no tracks upon the ground, the smoke of
whose fires cannot be seen rising through the clear air.
Ho fears the burning arrow shot by the thunder; the
unseen under-water animals which may seize him, as
he is crossing stream or lake, and drag him beneath
the waves; the invisible darts of evil spirits which
cause disease not to be cured by any medicine of roots
or herbs ; the ghost, terrible not for what it may do,
but only because it is a ghost. Against such dangers

MAN AM) NATLin:.

1(15

lie ft'C'ls tliiit lio lias no (U'fi'iico. So it is tliat ho
jtrays to the sun, tlio moon, tho stars, the mountains,
the <;liosts, thi' ahovt'-pcoplc, and tlio umliT-wati'i'
pcopk'. For |)ity and for protfction he appeals to
everythin^Mn nature that his inui'^ination indues with
a power ^Mcater than his own.

In an Indian camp it is not the avera^j^c man that
has communication with the other and unseen world.
All jjray, it is true, hut to most of these prayers no
answer is vouchsafed. It is only now and then that
visions or communications from the supernatural
world come to men and women. Those wiio are thus
especially favoured are not, so far as we can tell from
their histories, particularly deserving. The help that
they receive they owe not so much to any good works
that they have performed, or to any merit of their
own, as to tlie kindness of heart of the su])ernatural
powers. In another volume* I have given some ac-
count of the practice of dreaming for power, an act
of penance and self-sacrifice which, when carried out,
often secured the pity and help of tho su[)ernatural
powers, and which seems to have been well-nigh uni-
versal among the Iiulians.

Tlie powers influencing the Indian's life may bo
either malignant or beneficent, but by far the greater
number seem to be well disposed and helpful. Stories
about this latter class aro much more numerous than
those of hurtful powers, and it seems that usually
these supernatual beings are easily moved by prayer
and accessible to pity. On the other hand, a man who
fails to show respect to these forces is likely to die.
On the west side of the Kockv Mountains, there is a

!ii

(i^

* P>laekfoot Lodge T»iles, p. 191.

1 1

ICC.

'I'lIK S'I'oUV (>V Till'] INIMAN.

iiKmiitiiiii slu'cp skull <,M'(>\vm into a i^M'cat pine tree
trunk. This is u smci'imI ohjcct, ivvcrciiccd hv all.
Oiiec, hosvi'Vcr, a Ncz IVrci' liiii<;lK'(l at his ('(niiiiaii-
ioiis bccauso they otl'tTcd presents to this skull, and
to .sliow that ho did not ludit'Ve in it he shot at it with
Ids gun. 'i'he lU'Xt day as he was travelling along his
rifle, accidi'Jitally discharged, killed him.

TUq de[)ths of the water shelter a luti'de of mys-
terious inhabitants. Some of them are people, hut
(jiiite (lilTerent from those who live on the ]>rairie.
Otiiers are animals similar to those whieh we have on
land, while others are monsters. The uiuler-water
l)eople use the water fowl — the swans, geese, and
pelicans — for their dogs; that is, for their beasts of
burden. Small water birds are used as messengers bv
tlio su})eriKitural i)owers. 'I'he Dukotas and Chey-
eiiiies tell us that the under-water monsters have long
liorns and are covered with hair. The Clieyennes
suy that tliey lay eggs, and that any human being
wlio eats one of these eggs, shortly becomes himself
one of these water monsters.

"Witli some prairie tribes there seems in early times
to liave been a temh'ncy to explain the advent of any
animal new to them by concluding that it was an
under-water animal that had taken to living on tlie
land. Thus, by some, the fn-st white men were
thought to be under-water people, just as by otliers
they were believed to be si)irits or mysteries. The
Piegans tell with much detail how the first horses
came up out of a lake. The story which wf^s first
told nie by Almost-aDog, and since by other old
people, is this :

A long time ago a Piegan warrior's dream told
him about a lake far awav, where there were some

MAN AM) NAT I UK.

1(1

liir^jo animals, wliii'h wcro luirnilcss jiiid wliidi l>o
t'ould ciitcli, taiiic, and use to pack on, like (lo;;'.s.
And bccauso tlicy wci'o very lar^o and could carry a
heavy load, they would bo better to use than the do;,'s,
oil which the i»eoi)lo then carried their packs, "(io
to this lake," said his <lreatn, "and take with you a
rope, so that you can catcdi these animals."

►So the man took a lon,t( rope of bull's liido, ami
went to the shore of the lake, and dug ii liole in the
sand there, and hid in it. While he watched, lie saw
many animals come down to the lake to drink. Deer
came down and coyotes and elk and bulTalo. 'i'hey
all cuiue and drank. After a while, the wind began to
blow and the waves to rise and roll upon the beach,
savins: f^Jt-h-Jt-h. sh-h-Jt-h. At last came a band of
large animals, unlike any that the man had ever seen
before. They were big like an elk, and had small
ears and long tails hanging down. Some were white,
and some black, and some red and spotted. The
young ones were smaller. When they came down to
the water's edge and stoi)ped to drink, his dream said
to the man, "Throw your rope and catch one." So
the man threw his ro})e, and caught one of the largest
of the animals. It struggled and pulled and dragged
the man about, and he was not strong enough to hold
it, and at length it pulled the rope out of his hand,
and the whole band ran into the lake and under the
water and were not seen again. The man went back
to camp feeling very sad.

He prayed for help to liis dream, which said :
" Four times you may try to catch these animals. If
in four times trying you do not get them, you will
never see them again." Then the man made a sacrifice,
and prayed to the Sun and to Old Man, and his dream

•

1 ~

il!

t ■

1
i

it *

* I
I

168

TUE STORY OF TJIE INDIAN.

spoke to him in his sleep, aiul told him thut ho was
not strong enough to ciitcli a big one, tluit he ought
try to catch one of the young — then he could hold it.
The man went again to the shores of the big lake,
and again dug a hole in the sand and lay hidden
there, lie saw all the animals come down to drink —
the deer, the wolves, the elk, and the butfalo. At
last the wind began to rise and the waves to roll and
t' say sh-h-h-hf sh-li-li-h upon the shore. Then came
the band of strange animals to drink at the lake.
Again the man threw his rope, and this time he
caught one of the young and was able to hold it. lie
caught all of the young ones out of the band and took
them to the camp. After they had been there a little
while, the mares — the mothers of these colts — came
trotting into the camp ; their udders were full of
milk. Aft}r them came all the others of the band.

At ilist the people Avere afraid of these new ani-
mals and would not go near them, but the man who
had caught them told everybody that they were harm-
less. After a time they became tame, so that they
did not have to be tied up, but followed the camp
about as it moved from place to place. Then the
people began to put packs on them, and they called
them po-no-kah' mi-ta^ that is, elk-dog, because they
are big and shaped like an elk, and carry a pack like
a dog. This is how the Piku'ni got their horses.

If the under-world is peopled with mysterious and
terrible inhabitants, not less strange and powerful are
those who dwell in the regions of the upper air.
There lives the thunder, that fearful one, who strikes
without warning, whose bolt shatters the lofty crag,
blasts the tallest pine, and fells the strongest animal,
a moment before active and full of life. There are

MAN AND NATURE.

ica

tlie winds, the cloiuls, tlie gliosts, and many other
persons, wlioni sometimes we feel, but never see.

As has been said, tlie thunder is usually regarded
as a great bird, but this appears to have relation
merely to the sound that it produces. Often the
thunder is described as a person, sometimes as a
dreadfid num M'ith threatening eyes, or again, young
and handsome. Sometimes it is a monster, birdliko
only in that it has wings and the power of flight.
Thunder is terrible and must be prayed to, and be-
sides this, ho brings the rain which makes the crops to
grow and tlie berries large and sweet, and for this
reason, too, he must be prayed to. The rainstorm
and the thunder are scarcely separated in the Indian's
mind. Sometimes, when the thunder appears most
dangerous, it can be frightened away. A friend of
mine was once on the prairie in a very severe storm.
The hair of his head and the mano of his horse stood
straight out. I'hc thunder was crashing all about
him and kept drawing nearer and nearer. The man
was very much frightened and did not know what to
do, but at length in despair he began to shoot his gun
at the thunder, loading as fast as he could, and firing
h che direction of the sound. Soon after he began
to do this, the thunder commenced to move away and
at last ceased altogether.

Some tribes believe that a bitter hostility exists
between the thunder birds and the under-water mon-
sters, the birds attacking these last when they see
them, and striving to carry them olL

The Kev. J. 0. Dorsey tells of a Winnebago In-
dian, who was said to have been an eve witness of such
a conflict, and who was called on by each of the com-
batants for assistance in the fight, each promising to

¥'

I
I

y I

' IS

170

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

reward him for liis aid. The niaii was naturally very
imich afraid, and was doubtful what part he should
take in the combat, but at length he determined to
assist the thunder bird and shot aji arrow into the
water monster. This terminated the light in favour
of the aerial power, which then Hew away with its foe.
But the wounded under-water monster called back to
the man, " Yes, it is true that you may become great,
but your relations must die." And it was so. The
man did become great, but his relations died. Some-
times, however, arrows shot by man will not injure
an under-water animal. It pays no attention to the
arrows.

One view taken of the thunder is given in a story
told in the JJlackfoot Lodge Tales; another is found
in the story of the Thunder Pipe, a Hlood story :

This hap})ened long ago. In the camp the chil-
dren playing, had little lodges and sticks for lodge
poles, and used to make travois for their dogs. A
number of them would get together and harness their
dogs and move camp about a mile, carrying their little
brothers and sisters, and then jnit up their lodges.
Such was the children's play.

One day, while they were out doing this, a big
cloud came up. The children said, " We had better
go home. It looks as if it were going to rain." They
waited too long, and before they had started, the storm
began. Some went on home in the rain, and some
went into the brush, to wait there till the storm had
passed. It was thundering and lightening — a very
hard storm. It grew worse and worse, and the thun-
der came closer, and those who had stayed became
frightened, and at length ran home in the rain.

After the children had all reached the camp, one

MAX AND XATL'Ri:.

171

was still missing — a girl about fifteen years old, very
})retty. When the storm had passed, some of tiie
l)eople went out to look for this child, l)ut they oouhl
not find her. This ahirnied tlie eamp, and everybody
turned out to try to find the little girl. They looL'd
for her for tliree davs, but coidd not find her. The
mother was very sorry to have lost her child, and
gashed her legs and arms and cut oil the emls of her
fingers, and the father did tlie same. Tiiey sat up on
the hills mourning, and would not eat, nor drink, nor
come to cam}), they were so sorry for the loss of the
girl. At last the camp moved and went to another
stream.

Soon after they got there, another terrible storm
came up. The clouds were black, the rain poured
down, and the thunder crashed everywhere about tlie
camp. During the storm, while it was raining heavi-
est, a young man came running into the lodge of the
mourners and said to them, " Your girl has come
back." The girl was brought into the lodge, and her
father and mother were very happy to see her. Be-
fore they had time to speak, she said to them, " Father
and mother, I have been away, but it was not my
fault." They asked her, " Where have you been ? "
She replied: " I cannot tell you that. I do not know
where I have been. AVhile it was raiinng and thun-
dering the other day a young man came and stood
beside mo and said, ' Let us go.' I did not want to
go, but he took me. I have been crying all the time
ever since, and at hist he took pity on me and brought
me back. If you will go to my grandmother's lodge
you will see him. lie is in there. You will also find
a pipestem, which your son-in-law has given me.
liring it to this lodge."

:ji:

li .4

iv ■

Ff i.

I u

t . a;

172

TII1<: STORY OF TIII<: INDIAN.

TIjc jnircnts went over to the lodge to get the pipe-
stem, iuid were niuch surprised to see wiuit a hiind-
sonie young man was there. They did not know liim.
Ho was a stranger to them, lie was so liandsonie
tliev were friglilenech

'IMie old people took the stem and hrought it to
their lodge, and said to their daughter: " Well, it is
good that you are married. Your husband is a very
line-looking man. Who is he?" She answered, "1
cannot tell vou, for I do not know." " When did vou
first see him? Where did he iindyou?" they said.
The girl re})lied : "1 was bending down over a tre^^
trunk when the thunder fell right in front of me.
AVlien I raised myself up quickly and looked, this
young man was standing by me. I did not wish to
go with him, but he took me. We had only walked
a little way when I found I was in a strange hind, and
I have been crying ever since. At last he said to
me, ' Weil, if you are so lonesome, I will have to
take you back to your people.' It was a line, bright
day when we started tiiis morning, but we had gone
only a little way when we were walking in a small
mist. As we came further this mist grew larger and
rose and clouded over the whole sky, and we walked
on in it. After a while, I found the rain ]>ouring
down, and the next thing I knew I was standing here
in your camji."

The parents talked to the young man, but he would
not answer them. The girl told the people that while
in the strange land the young man gave her a pipe-
stem to give to her father. When he was in trouble
and wanted help, ho might ask for it from this pipe-
stem. Then the Thunder power would aid him.
" When vour father is tired of it," he said " he may

MAX AND NATUUL:.

173

give it to his rhildrcn, iiiul tlioy may iiso it with the
same power. So long as tliis stem is kept by your
people it will be a great help to them."

'J'his is where the stem came from that i)eloiig3
to Mahkwe'yi pis'to-ki. It has been kei)t in this
tribe, haitded down from tiiose days, and is still in
the Blood cam}).

The winter storms of snow and cold are ruled by
a person sometimes called Coldmaker. Jle is white,
not as the white man is white, but rather like the
snow, and is clad in white, and rides a white horse.
He brings the storm, riding in the midst of it, and
some peo})le have the power to call him and to bring
on a snowstorm.

The wind does not often take material shape and
is seldom seen, yet in some cases it sj)eaks to people.
Also it is sometimes made a messenger by the ruler.
Various causes are assigned for the blowinir of the
wind, and one of these — told me years ago by an old
Blood Indian, who knew the men to whom this hap-
pened — is perhaps worth repeating:

A good many years ago the camp was moving
from the north down through this country (that along
Milk River and the head waters of the ^larias).
When they had got down here they ran out of Vherhe
and moved up toward the mountains to gather some,
and there they saw Windmaker.

There were three young men who went out to
gather llierbe. They went up on the foothills, and
as they were going along they saw, down below them
in a valley, a strange animal. It was small — the size
of a white man's cow% blue-roan in colour, and had a
very long tail. They stood looking down at it, and

smm

I. !i^

\i ■■

! i

li|i^

:!l!

17i

TIIK STORY OF THK INDIAN.

siiid to ciicli otlier, " What kind of an animal is
that?" \oiio of thuni had ever soon anything like it.

At K'n;,ffij, while it was walking about grazing, it
raised iis head and looked toward them, and they saw
tiiat it had very long ears. When it looked toward
tiiem, it moved its ears backward and forward two or
three times, and at once there cjimc two or three
terrible gusts of wind. It turned, and started to trot
olf toward the mountains, and they followed it. It
tiirew its ears backward and forward, and gusts of
wind kept coming. They chased it, and it ran into a
l)icco of timber, in which there was a lake. Here the
men separated, one going around the timber on either
side of the lake, while the third followed the animal.

When the two men had gone around the timber
and came to the further edge of the lake, the wind
died down very suddenly. They stood there, waiting
and looking for the animal. The man wlio had fol-
lowed it saw the tracks going into the lake, and signed
to the others to come to him. They, too, saw where
it had gone into the water, but although they went
all around the lake, they could not see any tracks
where it had come out. They waited about till dark,
but it did not come out of the lake, so they went back
to their camp and told the medicine man what they
had seen.

Before that the people had never known what it
was that made the wind blow, but now, when they had
seen this animal, the medicine man decided that it
caused the wind, and they called it Windmaker.

The beliefs in animals are as numerous as the
tribes — almost as the individuals of the tribes. Many
of them have already been alluded to, or will be

MAN AND NATURK.

1:5

spoken of ill the eliiiptor on reli<,Mon. 'J'lio Dakot.-.s
believe that the bear and the wolf exert evil inllii-
ences, and cause disease and death, while the I'awnees
re^^ard them as I'rieiuUy and helpful, licsides the
reverence felt for the bultalo, there are believed to
exist certain mysterious bulTalo which cannot be
killed and which have great power.

The J'awnee Indians have a special belief Aljout
a little animal which thev call f^round d<)<% and which,
from their description, 1 believe to be the black-
footed ferret [Puturius nigripes). This animal, being
nocturnal in habit and, spending most of its time in
burrows nnder grounu, is seldom seen. The l^iwnees
believe that if this animal sits up and looks at a man,
working its jaws, as if chewing, the entrails of that
man will at once be cut to i)ieces and he will die.

A considerable projjortion of the " medicine" per-
formances in any camp have to do with healing.
While the Indians are skilful in curing sim})le ail-
ments and in surgery of a certain kind, there are
many more serious diseases which they do not at all
comprehend, and for which they have no medical
treatment. Such diseases they believe to be caused
by evil spirits, which must be driven away by the
dream power of the doctor, who relies for help on this
power and not on any curative agents. The treat-
ment consists of burning sweet-smelling vegetation to
purify the air, of singing and praying to invoke the
help of the power, of rattling and making alarming
sounds to frighten away the evil spirits, and of suck-
ing and brushing off the skin of the patient to re-
move the mechanical causes of the disease. The dif-
ferent operations of this healing process have often
been described. Usually such treatment gives no re-

!i!l

17(J

TlIK STORY OF TIIK INDIAN.

lief and tho i)iiticiit (lio.«, but in wounds or otlior in-
juries tlioso doctors luivo u success wiiicli oftentimes is
very reniiirkiible. In anotiu>r }»lace I liavo given soni(3
examples of tliis success, aiul I add lierc two other
cases where men luive cured tliemselves or were cured
byotliers througli dream power. Some of tliese stories
come from eyewitnesses.

A small i)arty of Pieo^ans were camped at Fort
Brule, at the mouth of the Marias IJiver, when, one
morning about daylight, a war party of etieniies
rushed npon them. The gates of tlie fort W(!ro
barred, so some of the women i)ut up their travois
against the stockade and climbed over the walls for
shelter, while some dug pits in the ground outside
the stockade. A very licavy fight began. I'wo
women and one man were killed just outside tho
stockade door by a hmco in the hands of a Crec.

There was another camp of Piegans not far ofT,
and when tho light began one of the Indians ran
from Fort Prulo and told these others that tho
Crees ■were attacking them. A party of warriors hur-
ried down, and when they reached the fort, the Crees
began to retreat. The Piegans followed them, and
the two parties took their stand on a ridge, the Crees
on one side and the Piegans on the other. A Piegan
named AVhite ]k>ar was trying to get closer to the
enemy, and a Creo crept np close to liim and shot
him through the body, tho ball entering at tho kid-
neys and coming out at tho shoulders. His compan-
ions dragged the man to the camp. lie was still
breathing when they got him to tho camp. Soon
after ho died.

There was an old woman in the camp, a very power-
ful doctor, and when she saw that the man was dead.

5S
if

>
I

MAN AND N ATI' UK.

177

kIio took licr l)!!!!;!!!) I'dltc and piiiiitccl it on \\\o licad
ami on tlio ))a('k and di»\vn the sides. She covered tlio
l)(iy willi tile painted robe, and tliei\ asked for a disii
of Vi'lloW clav and some water. Wlieii tliese uere
broni^lit to lier, slio nntied from Wlute liear's neck the
skin of a iitlle niolo tliat lie used t(» carry altont, and
i»ut tliis skin in tlu' disli of vellow clav. Then she
Ix'LTan to siii^^ jier medicine! sonir, and went up to the
(lead man and cauuiit him hy the liltli! Iiji;,^er and shook
liim, ami said, "' Wako up." At this time th(! lod;;i'
Avas crowded fnll,and many stood about lookini,' under
the lodij^e skins, which wero raised. The woman would
sliako the robe which lay on the man, and say, '• Wake
lip; you aro wanted to smoke." After slie had doiio
this four times, the fourth time slio did it, tliis man
moved. A\ hen lie mo\(.'d, the old wtuiian asked that
tlio ])ii)0 bo liglited. This was doiu! and the jiiju;
handed to lier, and after taking a small smoke and
making a prayer to the ghosts, she said to the young
man, " Wako np," and at the same time pulled the
robe oir him. "White liear stairgered to liis feet and
reached out his hand to take the I'ipo, but the old
vcman kept backing away from him, till she came to
uhere stood the dish of vellow chalk with the skin in
it. There the man took the i)i|)e and began to smoke,
and the blood poured from both the bullet boles. Uo
sat down beside the dish that had the mole in it, and
finally lay down and smoked, and when he smoked he
blew the smoke toward the mole and the yellow elay.
When ho had finished smoking he covered the mole-
skin over with a })iece of buckskin, and then after a
minute or two took the skin off, and the mole was there
alive, scratching and digging in the yellow clay, lie
hiy down beside it, and the mole left the dish, ran over

ITS

TIIK STORY OF TIIi: IMUAN.

1 ;

V !

Xjj'

i :

oil to his l)()(ly, wi'iit to tln' hiillfl li )1(', put liis lioad
in it, uiid Im'^^'jiii t<» |iiiil nut clois (.f blood. After it
had done this ut out- liulc, it ran to the otiicr and did
tiiu satiu' tiiiii;,^ and wlicn it iiad (h)no that, it went
liack to the dish and ri'!naiiu'(l tiicro, and White Hear
a,Lfain covered it with the piece of huckskin. Tiieii
he took it oil', and \siien iu' did so, tiiere was nothin;^
tliere l)nt thc^ stnlVcd skin. After lie had suiil,' a son;,%
Whiter l»ear made a s])ei'cli, savin*,' that he had been
dead, hut now ho liad come to life, and that after four
ni,Ldits he would bo well. Tho fourth day ho was ablo
to go about.

A few days afi-r lie was able to get about, White
Bear started out as li-ach-r of a war party against tho
Pond d'Oreilles. Ono day, as they were inarching
along, he said to his fellows, " I am going ahead to
SCO what I can discover.'' A war l)arty of tho eiio-
mv saw him coming, and lav in ambush for him
in a ravine. As he was walking along with folded
arms, they tired on him, and a ball went through his
Avrist and through his body. His party were not far
behind, and when they heard the shooting, they rushed
np and drove off tho enemy and saved their leader.
When tho light was ovi-r White Jiear said: "I am
badly hurt. Wo will have to go back."

They started back, and when they reached tho
camp White ]iear was nearly dead. They thought
ho was ffoinjx to dio. Tho same doctoring was m-)no
through with that liad been i)erformcd a few days
before, and with the same result. White Bear was
cured.

Here is another cxami)lo :

Tho Big Snake — a Piegan — went to war. They
passed along through tho Cut Bank country to go

MAN AM) NATL' UK.

1 TU

uiniss the moimtiiins, and took tliodood Ifnlr tliroiiL'h
flic .Mountains (Cadottf) pass. (Mic day, as tlicy wiTu
^'oin^ alon;.% tlicy met a war party of Crows. 'I'lio
Crows saw tlicni first, ami lav in ainlmsli for tlu-in.
As tlicy were walkin;^: aloni;, a volley was lircd on tlicin,
and the ica<icr was shot down and killcil. Another
one of the party was wounded, hut the l'ic,^Miis rtishe(l
on the Crows and drove them olT.

The l*ie,l,^•lns started back, aiul when they had
readied the .Muddy, the wounded man was nearly
dead. This man had with him the stulled skin of u
curlew.

When lie found that ho could <jjo no further, he
stoppeil and asked his companions to sin^ his medi-
cine son^% saying that ho would try wh.'ther ho could
do anytliin<; for himself. A sack of red paint was got
out and untied, and he put the curlew skin down on
the paint. The jii[)e was lilled and handed to him
lighted, and when he smoked he blew the smoke down
onto the curlew skin. After the second song was sung,
the curlew got u\) and shook itself, and dusted itself
ill the red paint. The man lay down on a robe sjjrcad
out for him, and the curlew left the i)aint and walked
up to him. It })ut its bill down in the wound and
worked it about, doing this several times. Then the
man turned over on his back, and the bird did the
same thing to the other wound, every now and then
uttering its call. After it had done this, it walked over
to the red paint and sat down in it, and they covered it
over with a skin. When they took the skin olf, the
bird was gone, and there was only the bird's skin
there. The man got well at once. White Calf saw
this himself.

Other stories are told in which the skin of a weasel
18

ill

II I

• 'I!
It

180

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

and a .skunk Lcoamo alive and worked .sirnihir cures,
and the li.st nii<]fht be iiidelinitely prolonged.

If a white man saw such things as these happen he
could not explain them, and would be likely to con-
sider them the work of the devil, or at least of some
supernatural power. The Iiulians cannot explain
them either; and believing the evidence of their eyet!,
they also believe that these tilings are done by the
dream, or the secret helper, of the person who exer-
cises the power.

AH these things which we s])eak of as medicine the
Indian calls mysterious, and when he calls them mys-
terious this oidy means that they are beyond his power
to account for, that they are inexplicable. AVe say
that the Indian calls whisky " medicine water." He
really calls it mysterious water — that is, water which
acts in a way that he can not understand, making him
dizzy, liappy, drunk. In the same M'ay some tribes
call the horse "medicine dog," and the gun "medi-
cine iron," meaning mysterious dog and mysterious
iron. lie wliom we call a medicine man may be a
doctor, a healer of diseases; or if he is a juggler, a
worker of magic, he is a mystery man. All Indian
languages have words which are the equivalents of our
word medicine, something with curative properties;
but the Indian's translation of " medicine," used in
the sense of magical or supernatural, would be myste-
rious, inexplicable, unaccountable.

The word " medicine," as we use it in this connec-
tion, is from the French word for doctor. The early
trappers saw the possessors of this supernatural power
use it in healing, and called the man who empldved it
a medccin or doctor. From calling the doctor medecin^
it was an easy transition to call his power by the same

MAN AND NATUUi:.

1«1

name, and tlic similarity in sound of the English and
Freneh words made tlie term readily adopted by Eii«r-
Iish-si)eaking ])eoi)le. The term "medicine man^"
originally meant doctor or healer, but one wlio effected
his cures by supernatural power. So at last "medi-
cine " came to mean tiiis power, and " medicine man "
the person who controlled the power, and the notion
of curing or healing became in a measure lost.

': ':

I ^ 1

■I

CHAPTER XI.

HIS CREATIOX.

CiviLiZKD man has devoted mucli time to speou-
lation and tlieory as to the orijjin of the Indian with-
out as vet reaehinij any definite conchision. Tlie red
man has been assigned to di liferent races, and has been
called a Hebrew, a Malay, and a Chinaman. Whence
he came we do not know, but it is certain tliat he has
inhabited this continent for a very long time — long
enough to have established hero a well-ditferentiated
race, about whose purity and antiquity there is no
question. The curious resemblances to other races
Avhich have so often been noticed are probably en-
tirely fortuitous.

But if the white man gropes in darkness searching
for light as to this origin, the Indian himself has no
such doubts. Each tribe has a definite story of its
own creation, which has been handed down by oral
tradition from father to son for many generations. A
considerable nnmber of these myths have been record-
ed, and they are of great interest as shedding some
light on the primitive beliefs of a wholly primitive
people. Such traditions have unquestionably under-
gone certain changes in process of transmission, but
the modifications and additions are, I think, less con-
siderable than is commonly believed. The Indian pre-
serves in a remarkable way the tales handed down to

183

Ills CllEATlUX.

183

liim from his ancestors. To him siicli traditions liave
a certain sanctity, and he does not consciouslv clianiro
tliem. Tiiey are, as it were, chapters from liis sacred
book, and in repeating tliem lie tries to give them ex-
actly as they have been told to him. In receiving
these and other traditions from the Indians, I have
often been interested to see the pains taken to give
each tale in its proper form — to tell the story exactly
as it should be told. If in the course of his narration
the speaker's memory proves at fault on any point, ho
will consult authorities, asking the opinions of old
men who are best acquiunted with the story, refresh-
ing his memory by their assistance, fully discussing
the doubtful point, and weighing each remark and
suggestion with care before continuing his tale.

The creation stories of the various tribes are quite
different, though in those which are akin there is usu-
ally more or less similarity. Often the stories are told
Avith much detail* In some cases the very spot at
which their ancestors first had life is described, but
in others no locality is assigned to the event. Such
stories usually include, besides the mere act of cre-
ation, the early history of the tribes, and an account
of how his primitive weapons and some instruction
as to the manner of using them were given to early
man.

Sometimes the fact of creation is given in general
terms only, or again the material used, and the differ-
ent acts performed in shaping man and giving him
life are described with some minuteness. On the other
hand, the earliest stories that we have of some tribes
describe them as already existing, but in some far-away

^ ii:

i i> ' >l'

■* See The RIackfoot Genesis. Blackfoot Lodge Tales, p. 137.

i f

184

THE STOIIY OP TflE INDIAN.

I 'l^

pliice, or porliaps under the groiURl, or beneath tlie
surface of a hike.

Such tales, bearing as they usually do on the first
acts of the Creator, who is the principal God, have an
intimate connection with the religious beliefs of the
tribes, and are a part of their religious history. In an
article* published in 1893 I gave the creation myth
of the Pawnees. I quote the substance of it liere :

Tirawa is the Creator. He made the mountains,
the prairies, and the rivers.

The men of the present era were not the original
inhabitants of the earth. They were preceded by
another race — people of great size and strengtii.
These were so swift of foot, and so powerful, that
tliey could easily run down and kill the buffalo. A
great bull was readily carried into camp on the back
by tliese giants, and when a calf or a yearling was
killed, the man thrust its head under his belt and car-
ried it dangling against his leg, as the men of to-day
carry a rabbit. Often when these people overtook a
buffalo they would strike it with their hands, or kick
it with the foot, to knock it down, and to-day, the Ari-
karas say, you can see the marks of these blows — the
prints of the hands and the feet — on the flesh of the
buffalo beneath the skin, where these people kicked
and scratched the animals.

The race of giants had no respect for the Ruler.
On the contrary, they derided and insulted him in
every way possible. When the sun rose, or when it
thundered and rained, they would defy him. They
had great confidence in their own powers, and believed
that they were able to cope with the Creator. As they

* Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. vi, p. 113, 1893.

HIS CIIKATIOX.

J 85

increased in numbers tliey ^ijrcw more deliant, and at
lengtii became so bad that Tiratcd determined to de-
stroy tlicm. This lie attempted to do at first by slioot-
ing the lightning at tiiein ; but the bolts glanced aside
from their bodies without injuring them. When he
found that they could not be killed by that means, he
sent a great rain, which destroyed them by drowning.
The grouiul became water-soaked and soft, and these
hirgo and heavy people sank into it aiul were engulfed
in the mire. The great fossil bones of jnastodons, ele-
phants, and JiroiitotlieridiB are said to be the bones of
these giants ; and that such remains are often found
sticking out of cut banks, or in deep canons, buried
under many feet of earth, is deemed conclusive evi-
dence that the giants did sink into the soft earth and
so perish.

After the giant race had passed away, TinUca cre-
ated a new peojjle, a man and a woman, who were like
those now on the earth. These people were at first
poor, naked, and were without any knowledge of how
they should live ; but after a time the Creator gave
tliem the corn, the buifalo, and the wild roots and
fruits of the prairie for food, bows and arrows to kill
their game, and fire sticks to furnish a means of cook-
ing it. The Rider provided for them these various
things, such as trees bearing fruits, and things that
grow in the ground, artichokes, wild turnips, and
other roots. In the rivers he put fish, and on the
land game. All these things, everything good to eat
found on the plains or in the timber, w;is given to
them by Tirdivn.

All these gifts Avere presented to the Pawnees in
the country in which they were originally created, and
which, as clearly appears from the statements of the

|, Ri^

If-

& I

i !', !

ISO

Tin-: STORY OF TIIH INDIAN.

ohk'st nioii, Wi'.s fur to the soutlnvost. It was in tlii.s
ori'MUiil comitrv tliiit tlio Pawiict's received their sucred
bun. lies. When they were given them, the })e()ple
knew notliing of iron, but used Hint knives and iir-
rowheads. The bundles arc said to have been lianded
down frotn the Fatiier, thougli in certain cases, special
stories are told how particular bundles came to be re-
ceived.

A more detailed account of the creation and the
doings of the original people is given by the Arikaras,
but it is not in all respects like that told by the Paw-
nees, for these two tribes, though belonging to the
same family, separated loTig ago. This story, which
is generally known in the Arikara tribe, has come
to me from various sonrces. Two Ciows — the chief
priest and the fountain of sacred learning for the tribe
— I'ahnkatawa, Fighting Bear, and others have given
mc portions of this history; but the most com])lete
account I owe to the kindness of the Ilev. C. L. Hall,
who liad it from a IJee known as Peter Rurdash, and
lie received it direct from Ka-ka-pit'ka (Two Crows),
the priest. The account is as follows : In the begin-
ning Atiuch (= Pawnee Alius) created the earth and
a people of stone. These people were so strong that
they had no need of the Creator, and would not obey
him. They even defied him; so he determined to put
an end to them. lie therefore caused a great rain,
which fell coiitinuously for many days, until the land
Wiis all covered with water, and the trees were dead and
the tops of the hills were submerged. ^lany of these
people being big and heavy, and so able to moA'e only
slowly, could not reach the tops of the hills, to wdiich
all tried to escape for safety, and even those who did
so were drowned by the rising waters, which at last

HIS CRKATIOX.

IS'

covered the wliolo liuul. Kvervtliiiii? on the oarth was
(lead. To-diiy in tlio washed ehiy bhiil's of the bad
hinds tlio liorizontal linos of stratilieation are shown
as marking the level of the waters at various times
during this Hood, and the hard sandstone })innaeles
"whieh cap the blults, and which sometimes present a
rude semblance of the human form, are pointed out
us the remains of these giants.

Now when everything was dead, there were left a
mosquito Hying about over the water and a little duck
swimming on it. These two met, and the duck said
to the mosquito, " How is it that you are here V " The
mos(|uito said, " I can live on this foam ; how is it
with you?" The duck answered, " When I am hun-
gry, I can dive down and eat the green we.'d that grows
under the water." Then said the moscjuito : " I am
tired of this foam. If you will take me with you to
taste of the thin<rs of the earth, I shall know that vou
are true." So the duck took the moscpiito under
his wing, where he would keep dry, and dived down
■with him to the bottom of the water, and as soon as
they touched the ground all the water disaj)pearcd.
There Avas now nothing living on the earth.

Then At inch determined that he w'ould again make
men, and he did so. But again he made them too
nearly like himself. They were too powerful, and he
was afraid of them, and again destroyed them all.

Then he made one man like the men of to-day.
When this man had been created he said to himself ;
"llow is it now? There is still something that does
not quite please me." Then Atiurh made a woman,
and set her by the man, and the man said : " You
knew why I was not pleased. You knew what I
wanted. Xow I can walk the earth in gladness."

1S8

TIIK STORY OF THE IN I) I AX.

II ill

Atiurh soonia to luivc iniidc men and tlio aniniuls
\\\^ above in tlie sky where lie lives, and when ho was
i*..tislied with wliat ho had made, he resolved to |:laco
tlicm upon the earth. So he called tlie li^ditning to
jHit them on the earth, and the lighttiin^ caused a
cloud to come, and the cloud received what A finch
had made, liut the li^htnin<j, acting as he always
does, set them down on the earth with a crash, and as
the ground was still wet with the water that had cov-
ered it, they all sank into the soft earth. This nuide
the lightning feel very badlv, and he cried ; and to this
day, whenever he strikes the earth, he cries. That is
what we hear wheii it thunders.

Now all living things were under the ground in
confusion and asking one another what each was;
but one day, as the mole was digging around, ho
broke a hole through, so that the light streamed in,
and he drew back frightened, lie has never had
any eyes since; the light put them out. The mole
did not want to come out, but all the others came
out on to the earth through the hole the mole had
made.

After they had come out from the ground, the
people looked about to sec where they should go.
Thev had nothing. Thev did not know what to do,
uor how to support themselves. They began to travel,
moving very slowly; but after their third day's camp
a boy, who had been left behind asleep at the first
camp that they had made, overtook the company,
carrying in his arms a large bundle. The people
asked him what this was. He replied that when ho
woke up and found the people gone, ho cried to
Father for help, and Father gave him this bundle,
which had taught him to find the way to his people.

I4<

Ills CUKATION'.

ISO

Tlion tlio people were pliul, and siiid tliat now tlioy
would tind tlie wav, and tlicv went on.

After tliev luid L'one a Ion*; wav, tliev eatne to a
deep ravine with liigli steep banks, and they eouhl
not eross it. Tiiere they liad to stop. All came to
this place, but they could not fi^et over it. 'J'hey
asked the boy what they should do, and he openi'd
the bundle, and out of it caine a bird with a sharp
bill * — the most sacred of all birds, the bone striker.
Wherever this bird strikes its bill, it makes a hoK'.
This bird ilew over the ravine and began to strike
the bank with his bill, and Hew against the bank
again and again, and at last the dirt fell down and
filled up the ravine and made a road for the ])eo])le
to pass across. A part of them passed over, but be-
fore all had crossed, the road closed uj), and the ravine
became as it had been at first. Those who were be-
hind perished. ^I'hey were changed into badgers,
snakes, and animals living in the ground. They
went on further, and at length came to a thick wood
— so thick that thev could not pass through it. Here
they had to stop, for they did not know how they
could get through this timber. Again they asked the
boy what should be done, and he opened the bundle,
and an owl came out from it and went into the wood
and made a path through it. A number of the peo-
ple got through the wood, but some old women and
poor children were lagging behind, and the road
closed up and caught them, and these were changed
to bears, wildcats, elks, and so on.

The people went on further, and came to a big
river which poured down and stopped them, and they

* Tills is thought to be a woodpecker {CohiptcK).

■(• y

li)0

TIIH STUIIY OF TIIK INDIAN.

waited (Hi tlio bunk. WIumi tlicv went to tlic bundle,
u bi;^^ liuwk ciuiie out of it. This ))ird Hew aeross
the river und ciiiised the water to stop flowing', 'i'iiey
started across the dry river bed, and when })art had
gone ueross and were on tliis side, and some old
women and poor children were still in the stream bed,
the water began to How again and drowned them.
'I'hese iH'ople were turned into fishes, and this is why
lishes are related to men.

'I'hev went on until thev eatne to some high hills
called the Jilue Mountains, and from these mountains
thev saw a beautiful countrv that thev thought would
be good to live in; but when they coiu.dted the boy
who carried the bundle, ho said, " No, we shall see
life and live in it." So they went on.

Soon after this, some pco])le began to gamble, and
one party won everything that the others had, and at
last they began to quarrel and then to fight, and the
people separated and went dilTerent ways, aiul the
animals, which had all this time been with them, got
frightened and ran away. ]5ut some of the people
still remained, and they asked the boy what they
should do, and lie went to the bundle and took from
it a pipe, and when he held up the pipe the fighting
ceased. With the pipe was a stone arrowhead, and
the boy told them they must make others like this,
for from now on they would have to fight ; but be-
fore this there had been no war. In the bundle they
found also an ear of corn. The boy said: " Wc are
to live by this. This is our Mother." The corn
taught them how to make bows and arrows.

Xow the peoi)le no longer spoke one hinguage,
and the eight tribes who had run away no longer
understood each other and lived together, but wan-

Ills CKKATION.

VJ\

ilcrcd about, 1111(1 tlic Mother (Afi/ni = I'uwik'O Afini)
no loii'^'f-r ivmaiiu'd with tliciii, l»iit left iIkmii aloiu-.
'I'lie ninth or ivinaiiiiiij^ haiul — wliich iiichulccl tliu
Ki'cs, Maiitlaiis, and PawJioos — now left the lUiic
Mountaiii.s ami travi'lk-d on until tiicv rcachi'd a ''rcat
river, and then tliev knew wiiat tiie bov meant bv
vsayin,i( " We sliall see life and live in it." liife meant
the Missouri Kiver, and they said, "This is the place
wlierc our Mother means us to live." 'I'he lirst ni<iht
they staved bv the river, but thev went ofl* in the

V fc V V

morniiiL,' and left behind them two dogs asleep. One
was black, the other white; one was male, the other
female. At the third camp they said, " This; is a
gooil place; we will live here." They asked the boy
what they shoidil do, and ho told them that they
should separate into three bamls; that lie would di-
vide tiio corn among them, and they could plant it.
He broke oW the nub and gave it to the Manilans, the
big end and gave it to the Pawncs, and the middle of
the ear he gave to the Rees. To this day the Maiuhms
liave the shortest corn, the Rees next in size, and the
Pawnees the best and largest. He also took from the
bundle beans, which he divided auKmg the people,
and the sack of a buffalo's heart full of tobacco.
]Iere by the river they first planted and ate, ami were
well olf, while the eight bands that liad run away
were dying of hunger. When they got here they luu,l .
no fire. They knew nothing of it. They tried to get
it from the sun, and sent the swallow to bring it. He
Hew toward the sun, but could not get the fire, and
came back saying that the sun had burned him. This
is why the swallow's back is black to-day. The crow
was sent. He used to be white, but the sun burned him
too. Another kind of bird was sent, and he got the fire.

r.>2

TIIK SToliY nl' Till: INDIAN'.

if-

AfliT this tlicy travcllcij a^Miii, ami as tlicy trav-
I'lli'il tlicy wtTi' ('((Ijuwcd liy t \v<» ;,M"«'!it lircs, (hat catiic
up (III the hills JH'hiiKl thctii and shut tluMit in, so that
tlicy (lid not l\n«»\v how to escape. The htindle told
them to ico to a cedar tree on a pi'ccipice, and that ii'
they held last to this, tlcy wonld not he hni't hy these
two L^icat had thiniTs. They did so and escaped, hat
all cedai's have heeii ei'ooked ever since. These two
great fires were the tw(» doi;s that had heeii lel't hehind
ut their lii'st camp, 'i'heso doi;s then came to them
and said : '' Oiir hearts are not all had. Wc have bit-
ten yon because yon left us without waking' us up,
bnt now we have had our reven<;e, and we want to live
with you." lint sickness and death have followed the
peopl(^ ever since they first left these dogs behind.

The dogs were taken back into the com}>any and
grew old. 'I'he female dog grew old and poor and
(lied first, aiul was thrown into the river, and after
that the male dog died ; bnt before lie died they said
to him, " Now you are going to die and be with your
>vife." "Yes," lu^ rei)Iie(l. "lint you will not hate
Uii. From this time vou will eat us, and so vou will
think well of us. Aiul from the fenude dog's skin has
come the s(iuash, and you will like this, and on this
account, also, you will not bate us." So ever since
that day, dogs have been raised as friends, and after-
ward eaten for revenge, because of tlieir trcacliery.

After this, they looked out on the prairie and
saw some great black aninuds having horns, and they
looked as though they were going to attack them.
The peo})]e dug a hole, and got in and covered it
over, and when the buffalo rushed on them they were
safe, though their dwelling trembled and the people
thought the roof would fall in. Finally some one

(■'

• V II

<|)

':'•> (

'f-

I I

If I

HIS CREATION.

193

looked out jukI saw the bulTiilo stiiiuliug uroiiiul.
They did not h)ok very iierce, so forty men, women,
and children ventured out ; but the bulTido att:iek(>d
them, tore oil* their arms and ate them, and tore oiT
their hair. Ever since that time there has been a lock
of iiee liair in the butlalo's moutli, hanging down
from his chin. One handsome young woman was car-
ried olf by the bnll'alo. They held a council to know
what they should do with her. She said she could
not travel, and they did not wish to kill her. They
did not wish to let her go either. But one night, when
she was sleeping in the midst of the band, a young
bull came to her and pulled lu-r sleeve and told her
to follow him, that he would show her the way back
to her people, lie did so, and his i)arting words to
her were : "Tell your people that we do not like the
bows and arrows that they make, and so we have at-
tacked you." *

The yonng woman was gladly received, 'i'hey askcil
the boy with the bundle what should be done with the
buffalo, lie answered: "The bulTalo are to be our
food. They ate ns first, so now we will always fol-
low them for food, ^^'e mnst make arrows like the

* The Ali,'oii(iuiii lUat'ldVot also tell of a tunc soon after Iho
croation wIumi the bulTalo usod to oal them. This was before
they Iiad l)o\vs ami arrows; in faet, in some accounts it is even
said that then the peo[)le liad paws like tiie l)ears, and supported
themselves by di^';;ing roots and gathering berries. When i^'djii,
the lilackfoot Creator, learned that the bulTalo were killing and
eating the people, lie felt very badly, and he split their paws so
as to make fingers on them, and made bows and arrows and
taught the people how to use them. There is also a Hlaekfoot
story of a young woman who was captured and taken away
by the buffalo, and who afterward returned to the tribe.— See
Blackfoot Lodge Tales, pp. 104 and 110.

i ?

; ■

;

<■■

i!i i^

1 ^
1 ■

■1

(f :

ill

19i

THE STOKV OF TlIK INDIAN.

Olio Tuiiucd (= Ptiwnce Tlrawa) guvc us with the l)ipo,
and light tliu biitfalo witli tlioni." After iiial-ciiig iiuiiiy
urrows of tlio iliiit tlioy use for striiving iiios, tiioy all
came out of tiie liole iu tlie eartli and lived by jtlant-
iug and hunting.

The liees have always kept near the ]\Ii,s.souri Hivcr,
and have lived by planting. The bundle reputed
to have been given to the boy in the beginning is
now in the house of Two Crows. It is still powerful.
It contains the ear of corn which was first given to
the Kees. AVlien a great young man dies — a chief's
son — and the people mourn, the relations are asked to
the Kee medicine lodge, and the ear of corn is taken
from the bundle, put for a short time in a bucket of
water and then replaced in the bundle. As many as
drink of that water are cured of sad hearts, and never
mourn their friends a'^ain.

i I

CHAPTER XIT.

THE WOULD OF THE DEAD.

Like most people, civilized or savage, the Indian
believes in the immortality of the soul. To him the
future life is very real, for sometimes — in dreams or
during a fainting fit, or in delirium of sickness — vi-
sions come to him which he believes are glimpses into
the life of another world — a world peopled by the
spirits of the departed. It is always difficult to induce
the Indian to formulate his views on the future life.
Often perhaps he has none, or if he has such beliefs,
like our own on the same subject, they are vague and
hazy. Besides this, Indians are little accustomed to
deal with abstract conceptions, and lack words to
express them. Nevertheless, some notion of their be-
liefs may be gathered from the accounts which they
give of ghosts and the ghost country, for all the tribes
have tales which speak of the inhabitants of the spirit
world, and tell us what they do and how they live.
Such stories purport to come from those who have
died and have been restored to life again, or from liv-
ing persons who have visited the country where the
spirits dwell, and then returning to their tribe have
reported the condition and the ways of the departed.

The views held of this world of the dead differ
widely in different tribes. With some it appears to
be a real "happy hunting ground," a country of wide
14 1!)")

I ; 1

! nl

^ i: If

ii b

1 I

11:

■

„

19«

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

green prairies and cool clear streams, where the bufTulo
and otlier game arc alwtiys plenty and fat, where the
lodgers are ever new and white, the ponies always
swift, the war parties successful, and the pcoide hap-
py. Sometimes, even now, tlie Indian of the soutii,
when the slanting ravs of tlie westering sun tinire the
autumiud haze witli red, beholds dimly, far away, the
wliite lodges of such a happy camp, and, dazzled by
the tinted beams, sees through the mist and dust
ghostly warriors returning from the buffalo hunt,
leading horses laden as in olden times with dripping
meat and with shaggy skins. A speech made by the
spirit of a Pawnee woman shows the feeling that these
people have about the future life. This woman not
long after her death appeared to her husband, who,
holding their young child in his arms, was mourning
for her, and said : " You are very unhappy here.
There is a place to go where we would not be unhappy.
Where I have been nothing bad happens to one. Here
vou never know what evil will come to vou. You and
the child had better come to me." In the same story
father and mother and child at last die, and it is said
of them, " They have gone to that place where there is
a living " — strong testimony to the Pawnee's faith in
a happy future life.*

With other tribes the ghost country is a land of
unrealities, where the unhappy shadows endure an
existence which is an unsubstantial mockery of this
life. Here they hunt shadow buffaloes with arrows,
which, on being lifted from the ground, are found to be
only blades of grass ; their camps or their buffalo traps
when approached vanish from sight ; or their canoes,

* Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk- Tales, p. 129.

TIIK WOULD OF THE DEAD.

11)

though roul to tlio ghosts, arc to mortal eyes rotten,
inoss-covered and full of holes; their salmon and trout
are only dead branches and leaves, lloating on tlie
river's current, and even the people themselves, thougli
to all appearance human, turn to skeletons if a word
is spoken above a whisper.

To us, who have been reared in the hope of an im-
mortality which promises happiness, tliere is some-
tliing inexpressibly patlietic in these vague concep-
tions of a future life which is so mucli more miserable
than the savage existence in this world, checkered
though it is ; for even to the savage, while he is still
alive, hope always remains. If his camp has been at-
tacked, his people slain, and he himself is a fugitive,
hiding from enemies who are eager to take his life, he
looks forward to a time when he shall take vengeance
for these wrongs and destroy tliose who have injured
him ; or if tlie people are starving, and he sees his
wives and little ones wasting away with lumger, he
thinks alwavs that to-morrow mav bring the buffalo
and plenty and contentment. But to this gloomy
future life there is no period. It must go on forever.

The melancholy views of a future state held by
such tribes as the Blackfeet, the Gros Ventres of the
Prairie, the Chinooks, and some other Pacific slope
tribes, present singular resemblances to those ex-
pressed in the earlier Greek and Roman mythology.

The spirits of the dead take various forms, but
they are always unsubstantial as air, though to the eye
they may appear real. They are frequently seen by
living persons, but are likely to vanish at any moment.
The tiny whirlwinds of dust often seen moving about
on the prairie in hot summer days are believed by the
Pawnees to be ghosts, by other tribes owls are thought

IDS

THK STORY OF TIIK INDIAN.

to bo <,'li().-Ls. Sonu'tiinos spirits take tlio forms of
skeletons, which iimy he Jihle to wjilk about, or they
may a])pear as ordinary men and women. It seems
possible that these spirits can at will take forms such
as i)lease them, and in a specific case a ghost appeared
in the form of a bear, and in iinotber it took the shape
of a wolf, 'i'o see a ghost is by no means an evcry-day
matter. Much more often they are heard to speak or
to whistle, and such sounds terrify those who hear
them, for the Indians are nnich afraid of ghosts.
Some of these spirits are benellcent, others are harm-
ful, and of the latter, being the more dreaded, much
more is heard than of those which wield kindly pow-
ers. The hurtful ghosts frighten people by tugging
at their blankets while they are walking through the
timber at night, or they Avhistle down the smokehole,
or tap on the lodge skins. 8uch acts, though sulli-
ciently alarming, are not in themselves very serious,
and may perhaps be indulged in only for the sake of
frightening people, lint the spirits that are really
inimical do much more terrible things than these.
They shoot arrows of disease at people, causing rheu-
matism, paralysis, St. Vitus's dance, long wasting ill-
ness, and oftentimes death.

The actual location of the world of spirits — the
home of the dead — varies with the tribe. Many of
the peoples of the southern plains believe to-day that
this home of the dead is above us, in or above the
sky ; others hold that it is to the west, beyond the big
water; others still think that it is in the south or east.
The Blackfeet locate this country of the future close
to their present home, in the desolate sandhills south
of the Saskatchewan l\iver.

Occasionally, glimpses are seen among some tribes

TllK WOULD OF THE DKAl).

lUl)

of ii belief in the transmigration of souls. The Khi-
math and Modoc Indians believe that the s])irits of
the dead inhabit the bodies of lishes. The ghosts of
medicine men, conjurors, or priests, after death arc
often thought to take the shape of an owl — always a
bird of mysterious, if not su])ernatural, powers — or the
soul of a very brave man might after death iidiabit
the body of some brave, tierce animal, like a bear.
Yet this is not supposed to happen commonly, nor do
the helpful animals which so constantly appear in the
folk stories of the Indians ever seem to be the spirits
of those who have lived on earth. These belong to a
class of beings entirely dilTerent from mortals.

On the other hand, in the creation story of the
Arikaras, which details also the earlier wanderings of
the first Indians, it is said, as already remarked, that
certain people who were overwhelmed by water, by
land slides, and in forest fallings, were changed into
fishes and various other animals which live principally
under ground or in the woods.

Some Indians believe in reincarnation, the indi-
vidual at each succeeding birtli retaining the sex and
the same peculiar jjhysical characteristics. It is re-
lated that a certain chief of the Wrangel Indians
named Ilarsha, who died about two hundred years
ajro, has since been reincarnated five times, and at
each birth is known by the scar of a stab in the right
groin. Another chief, reincarnated three times, is
always recognised by a peculiar lock of gray hair.
These Indians believe that heaven— or the abode of
the spirits— is above ns. It is reached by a ladder
and entered through a hole at the point where the
ladder ends.

In almost all the tribes it is believed that per-

i If

•A

'. rr-

1' '

1 •

■- ,

1 '

{

i !

*; ^

( ij

i '

1 '

I '

11'

■i. 1

■ri

•

f f

1 1

ij
ii

jMi

BC_-_ri-^'

200

THE 8T0KV OF TllH INDIAX.

sons wlio have died muv, i oxtniordiiwirv circiun-

stances, become alive a" ii other avorIs, that tiie

^Mjosts may return fro! gliost country to tlie tribal

liome, resuming their u. ml shapes, and to all appear-
ance again becoming persons. There seems always a
possibility, however, that sueli returned ghosts will
vanish on some provocation or other. This idea, which
is found among the tribes of the plains, the moun-
tains, and the Pacific coast, is common to the folk
stories of all races. It is to be remembered, however,
that the story of a ghost who liad returned to life
and had afterward, through some fault of relations or
friends, been forced to disappear, would be much more
likely to bo preserved in the unwritten literature of a
tribe than one telling of a person who, after having
died, has come to life, and then has remained with the
tribe, living out a full term of years.

I have met several men who believe that they them-
selves have died, visited the camps of the ghosts, and
then for some reason returned to life and to their
homes, and some of them have related to me what
they had seen in the ghost country. Besides this, I
have been told many other stories, which relate with
more or less detail what is done and said there. A
study of such stories will present as clear an idea of
this future life, and the way it is regarded by the In-
dians, as can be given in any other way.

Some of these stories resemble in a remarkable de-
gree tales of other lands, which are familiar even to
our children. One of these, told with some detail, is
of singular interest, for it presents a close parallel to
the classical myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but the
Indian hero was more fortunate than his Old World
prototype, for he was successful in his quest, and re-

TIIK WOULD OP THE DEAD.

201

covered the wife for Avhoso suko lie luul faced the lior-
rors of the gliost country and tlie peril of death.

Interesting in connection with sucli visits paid hy
human jjcings to the superiuitural worhl are tiie fre-
quent aUusions in tiiese accounts to the peculiar odour
exhaled hy living persons. The gods, or the ghosts,
when they come near to the place where the individual
is concealed, often discern his presence hy this odour,
and call out, " I smell a person," or " What is this had
smell?" The hurning of sweet grass or sweet pine
usually purities the air, so that the smell is no longer
complained of.

;j 1

CIIAPTKU XIII.

PAWXKE UKMfJIOX.

Volumes rni^]flit l)c written on tlie Indiiin ivli,iiion
without cxliausting it. Tlic dilTeront bt'iicf.s of tlie
various tribes, tlieir cercmonijil, iind tlic religious liis-
tory, iis given in their traditions, comprise an interest-
ing and dilVicult study. As a specific example of the
religious beliefs of a ])articular tribe, I quote an ac-
count of the Pawnee religion taken from the paper*
already mentioned. It gives a somewhat detailed
statement of the faith of that ])eople when I first
knew them, anil before they had been greatly changed
by contact with civilization.

The Peity of the Pawnees is At ins Ti)au'a.\ He
is an intangible spirit, omnipotent and beneficent.
He pervades the universe, and is its supreme ruler.
Upon his will depends everything that happens. lie
can bring good luck or bad ; can give success or fail-
ure. Everything rests with him. As a natural eon-
sequence of this conception of the Deity, the Pawnees
are a very religious people. Xothing is undertaken
without a prayer to the Father for assistance. When
the pipe is lighted, the first few whiffs are blown to
the Deity. When food is eaten, a small portion of it

* .Toiirnal of American Folk-Loro, vol. vi, p. 113, 1893.
f At'ius = father. Tirdwa = spirit.

203

r.WVNKK IlKLKilnX.

L>0;{

is pljiood oji the groimd as a siicrifioo to liiiii. lie is
pr()[)iti:itLHl by burnt olTcriii^rs. Wlicii tlicy started
ofT on the siiniincr and winter liunts, a part of tiio
first animal wliidi was killed, either a deer or hnlTalo,
was burned to him. The lirst bnlTalo killed bv a
young boy was oiTered to liim. The common ])rayer
among the Pawnees is, " Father, you are the Kuler.'"
They always acknowledge his })ower and implore his
lielp. lie is called "Father, who is above " ; "Fa-
ther, who is in all places."

Tirdu'd lives up above in the skv. Thev sav,
" The lieavens are the house of TirffWd, awd we live
inside of it." The overarching hemisphere of the
sky, which on all sides rcacdics down to earth at the
horizon, in their minds is likened to the walls and roof
of the dome-shaped dirt lodges, which the Pawnees in-
liabit. A similar conception prevails among the Jilack-
feet.

Next in importance to ^\/ins comes the Earth,
which is greatly reverenced. The Pawnees came out
of the earth and return to it again. The lirst whifTs
of the i")ipe are olfered to A fins, but after these smokes
to him, the next are blown to the earth, and the
prayer, " Father of the dead, you see us," is expressed.
Kot very much is said by the Pawnees about the rev-
erence which they feel for the earth, but much is told
about the power of the Mother Corn, " through which
they worship," which cares for and protects them,
which taught them much tliat they know, and which,
symbolizing the earth, represents in material form
something which they revere. A Kee priest said to
me : " Just as the white jieople talk about Jesus
Christ, so we feel about the corn." Various explana-
tions are given of the term " Mother," which is ap-

I ■

f ! '

f i i:

21) ^

Till-: SToKV (IF TIIH INDIAN.

jilicd to tho corn, but iioiio nro altofjctlicr siitisfactory.
'i'lio n-fcrciico muy bo to the fact that tlic coi'ii hn^
ulu'ays supported ami Tioiirislicd tbciii, as tho chiM is
n()iirish('(l and supported by its mother's luiik, or,
■\vitli a deeper nu-aiiin;:, it may bo to the jtrodiu'tivo
power of the eartli, whicii each year bri^l^^■^ fortii its

inereaso

riie Sun and tho Moon and ti»o Stars jiro ])orsoni-
ficd. Tiiey aro re<,'arded as people, and prayers arc
made to them. There is some reason for believing
tiuit tlio sun and tlio moon oneo occupied a more im-
l>ortant position in the Pawnee reii;,nous system tluiii
they do to-day. Tlu'ro aro some songs wliicli refer
to tiie Sun as tho I-'ather uiul tlio Moon as tlie Mother,
as if tho sun represented tlio male and the moon tho
female principle. O-jti-ri-kiix^ the Morning Star, is
especially revered by the Skidi, and human yacrilices
were made to it.

It is represented that each day or night tlio Sun,
^loon, and Stars paint themselves up and start out
on a journey, returning to their respective lodges after
their course is accomplished. There aro two or three
versions of a story which tells of a young woman
taken up from eurtli by a Star and married to him.
This young woman lived up in heaven for a time, but
was killed while attempting to escape to earth again,
llor child — the son of the Star — reached the earth, and
lived long in tho tribe, lie had great power, whicli ho
derived from his father.

The Thunder is reverenced by tho Pawnees, ami a
Bpecial ceremony of sacrifice and worship is performed
at the time of the first thunder in spring, which tells
them that the winter is at an end, and that the season
for i^lanting is at hand.

rAWNKK Ki: I. Id ION.

205

Tlio various wild iuiimals arc ri>;;!ir(lt'<l as a;;t'iit,s
or servants of Alius, and ari' iviiowii as ti(iliiinn\ \x
woril wliicli jiicaiis aiiiinal. It docs not rd'cr j)ar-
ticnlarly to these ina;,Mcal or mystical animals wliicli
are tlio Deity's servants, hut is a general term ajijilied
to any fish, reptile, l)ird, or heast. The halinnic jter-
sonify the various attrihutcs of Alius. Jle uses llwiu
as l»is messengers, and they have great knowledge and
power, which they derive from him. 'I'hey iiold a re-
lation to tlio supremo power very similar to that of
the angels in the Old 'I'estauu'Ut. 'J'he aninuds which
possess these peculiar })owers are, of (.'ourse, iu)t real
aninuils. They are — we may ])resume — spirits nlio
assume these shapes wlu'ii they appear tonu-n. Some-
times, or in SOUK! of the stories, they arc :'"prcsented
as changing from the animal shape to that of men — as
in the account of the oi'igiii of the Young Dog's
Dance.*

lVrhai)s no oiu' at the present day could sp(>cify
the precise attributes of each of the dilTcrcnt )i(ihnr(((\
hut there are eertajn characteristics which are well
known to pertain to some of them.

Of all the animals, none was so important to the
Pawnees as the hudalo. It fed and clothed them,
and, with their corn, was all their support. This
alone was enough to entitle it to a very high place in
their esteem. It was a sacred aniuud of great power,
and was a favourite secret helper, and although it did
not receive a nu^isure of reverence equal to that felt
for the ]\rother Corn, it was yet the most sacred aiul
highly respected of all the animals. The eidolon of
the buffalo — its skull — occupied a prominent position

i i

,-%

* Journal of American Fulk-Lore, vol. iv, p. y07.

P i
I

20G

THE STOUY UF THE INDIAN.

11 ■<*

in niyiiy of the Pawnee sacred ceremonies, and rested
on the top of many a lodge, yigi.ifying ihat it was the
special helper of the owner. Even to-day, althongh
the buffalo has long been extinct, everywhere in the
liee village this same object may Le seen, at once the
relic of a noble animal which has disappeared from the
land, and the symbol of a faith which is i)assing away
with the ])assing of a people. The buffalo appears to
have typified fonje or power, as well as the quality
of dashing blindly onward. Besides this, there were
some buffaloes which were invulnerable, which could
not bo killed by ordinary weapons. It was necessary
to rub on the arrow used against them, or in later
times on the bullet, a peculiar potent medicine before
the missile would penetrate the skin. 8uch buffaloes
were usually described as sexless, of enormous size,
and without joints in their legs.

AVhile the bear was by no means so sacred as the
buff'alo, he was regarded as singular for wisdom and
power, lie symbolizes invulnerability, lie knows
how to cure himself. No matter how badly he may
be wounded, if only a little breath is left in his body
lie can heal himself. It is said that sometimes he
does this by plugging up with certain medicine herbs
the wounds which have been inflicted on him. He
has also the power of breathing out from his nostrils
ditfe rent-coloured dusts — red, blue, and yellow — or of
spitting out different-coloured earths. Certain medi-
cine bears which belonged to two of the bands could
not be wounded by ball or arrow. Of one of these it
was said, " The lead will flatten out, the spike (of the
arrow) will roll up " when it strikes his body.

The beaver was regarded as an animal of great
wisdom and power, and a beaver was always one of the

PAWNEE HELKJION.

i>(iT

four cliiefs who ruled the councils of the nahnrar.
Craft wiis typified in the wolf ; counige, fierceness, or
success in war by the birds of prey, the eagle standing
at the head ; the deer stood for flectness, etc.

The black eagle, the white-headed eagle, and the
buzzard are messengers of lirdtva ; by them he sent
his orders to the first high priest, and instructed him
in the secrets of his priestship and in the other se-
crets. The buzzard and the white-headed eagle repre-
sent the old men — those who have little hair and those
whose hair is white; it is from these ancient men that
the secrets have been handed down from generation
to generation.

The nahnrar had an organization and methods of
conveying information to favoured individuals. They
had meeting i)Iace8 where they held councils which
were presided over by chiefs. The meeting places
were in undergi'ound lodges or caves, and there were
known to the Pawnees, when they lived in their old
home in Nebraska, no less than five such places.
These Avere at J*a-Jtnl', under the high bluff opposite
Fremont, Nebraska; at Ah-ka-tvii'akdl^ under a high
white bluff at the mouth of the Cedar Kiver ; at La-
la-2va-koh'il-td, under an island in the Platte River
opposite the Lone Tree (now Central City, Nebraska) ;
under the Sacred Spring Al fz-a-wltz'nk, on the Solo-
mon River in Kansas; and at PaJtn'r, or Guide Rock,
in Kansas.

Persons Avho were pitied by the iialutrac were
sometimes taken into the lodges, where their cases
Avere disjussed in council, and they w'ere helped, and
power and Avisdom Avere given them by the animals.
After it had been determined that he should thus be
helped, the A'arious animals, one after another, Avould

208

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN.

{ '

rise in tlioir places and speak to the man, each one
giving liim the power wliicli was peculiar to itself. In
such a council the buiTalo would often give the man
the power of running over those opposed to him :
" Von shall run over your enemies, as I do over mine."
The bear would give him the power to heal himself if
wounded and to cure others. The eagle would give
him his own courage and fierceness: "You shall kill
your enemies, as I do mine." The wolf would give
him the power to creej) right into the midst of the
enemy's camp without being seen. The owl would
say to him, " You shall see in the night as I do " ; the
deer, " You shall run jis fast as I can." So it would
go on around the circle, each animal giving him that
power or that knowledge Avhich it typified. The
speeches maoc in such nahiwac councils were similar
in character to those which would be made in any
council of men.

Usually much of the knowledge taught a person,
who was being helped by the naliurac^ was that of the
doctors, and those who had received this help were
able to perform all those wonderful feats in the doc-
tor's dances for which the Pawnees were so justly re-
nowned. Often, too, these persons were made invul-
nerable, so that the arrows or the bullets of the enemy
would not penetrate their flesh.

The stay of the individuals who might be taken
into the nahurac lodges did not, as a rule, last longer
than four days, though often a man who had been
once received there might come again. If the time
mentioned was not long enough to enable him to ac-
quire all the knowledge of the nahurac^ it sometimes
happened that after such a visit the various animals
would meet the person siugly out in the hills or on

^mmmmmi

i*'"i

PAWNEE RELIGION.

209

the prairie, and would there communioate to liiin addi-
tional knowledge, especially that touching on the eili-
cacv of various roots and herbs used in healing.

It is to be noted that the iiahnrdc die not content
themselves witii giving to the i)erson whoni they i)ititd
help, and nothing more. They also gave him good
advice, telling him to trust always in the Kuler, and
to look to One above, who is the giver of all power.
Often they exphuned that all their jwwer came from
AiiHS, whose servants they were ; that they did not
make themselves great, that they were mortal, and
there would be an end to their days.

It is not always specified what shape was taken by
the four chiefs who nilal the n alt lirae counviU; but
in at least one story it is stated that these were a beaver,
an otter, a sandiiill crane, and a garfish. In another
story a dog appears to have been the chief. These
animal councils had a servant who acted as their mes-
senger, and carried word from one nahurac lodge to
another. This bird is described with some detail in
more than one of the Pawnee stories, and was evi-
dently a species of tern.

The animals were the usual medium of communi-
cation between Alius and man. They most often
appeared to persons in sleep, telling them what to do,
giving them good advice, and generally ordering their
lives for them. But there is one story in which an
individual is said to have s2)oken face to face with the
Father,

Tlie four cardinal points were respected by the
Pawnees, and their place was high, although they
were not often spoken of, except in prayers. Still, the
formula in smoking was to blow first four smokes to
Atuis, then four to the earth, and last of all to each

li^

:,f?

210

THE STORY OF TIIK INDIAN.

of the card i Mill points. Tlio oust ropresonted tlio
iiiglit, for it is from that direction tlitit tl»o darkness
comes. So, in one of the stories, u speaker, in advising
a young man as to how he sliould act, says of smoking :
" Arid always blow four smokes to the east, to the
night; for in the night something may come to you
which will tell you a thing which will ha])pen," that
is, come true. It would be hard to find a closer i)ar-
allel to our saying, "1'he night brings counsel." It
is worthy of note that this conception of the cast is
the absolute reversal of our notion that the east brings
tlie light — the morning; one of the most familiar fig-
ures in our literature.

Closely connected with their respect for the night
is their llrni confidence in dreams, which to a great
extent govern their lives. Their belief in a future life
is in part founded on dreams which they have had of
being tiiemselves dead, and finding themselves in vil-
lages where they recognised among the inhabitants
relations and acquaintances who had long been dead.
The faith in another life after this one is ended is ex-
emplified by stories already published, which tell of
the coming to life of persons who have died, and is
fortified by the experiences of certain living men who
believe themselves once to have died and visited these
villages of the dead.

Prayers for direct hel]) are, as a rule, made only to
the Father, and not to the animals, nor to th.e Sun,
Moon, and Stars. But the last are constantly implored
to act as intercessors with A/ Ins to help the people.
A prayer frequently made to the animals by a person
in distress was this : " If you have any power, inter-
cede for me." It is constantly stated in the tales cur-
rent amoufif the Pawnees that in minor matters the

^•mr^m

SBBSSB

mu mmmmmimmmmmmmm

PAWNKI-: IlKLKiloN.

211

,1 '

animals may be dopciuled on for liel]), but if anythini;
very difficult is souglit, tlie petitioner must look only
to the Father. The animals seem in many ways to
hold a position in the Pawnee religious system anal-
ogous to that of the saints in the lioman Catholio
faith.

Something must be said about the sacred bundles
which are to the Pawnees what the Ark of the Cove-
nant was to the ancient Israelites. Concerning these
I may (juote what has been written :

" In the lodge or house of every Pawnee of influ-
ence, hanging on the west side, and so o])i)osite the
door, is the sacred bnndle, neatly wrapped in buck-
skin, and black with smoke and age. What these
bundles contain we do not know. Sometimes, from
the ends, protrude bits of scalps, and the tips of pipe-
stems and slender sticks ; but the whole contents of
the bundle are known only to the priests and to its
owner — perhaps not always even to him. The sacred
bundles are kept on the west side of the lodge, because,
being thus furthest from the door, fewer peoj)le will
pass by them than if they were hung in any other part
of the lodge. Various superstitions attach to these
bundles. In the lodges where certjuu of them are
kept it is forbidden to put a knife in the lire ; in
others, a knife may not be thrown ; in others, it is not
permitted to enter the lodge with the face painted ; or,
again, a man cannot go in if he has feathers tied in his
head.

" No one knows wlience the bundles came. ^Many
of them are very old ; too old, even, to have a history.
Their origin is lost in the haze of the long ago. They
say : ' The sacred bundles were given us long ago. Ko
one knows when they came to us.' "
15

w li

212

THE STOliV UF THE INDIAN.

It is to be observe*] that the miracles which so fre-
quently occur in the heroic myths of the Pawnees, and
which generally result in the bringing to life of the
person who is pitied by the nd/inrac, often take ])lace
during a storm of rain accompanied by wind and thun-
der. Exam])les of this are found in the stories of the
Dun Horse, Pahukatawa, Ore ke rahr, and others.
The rain, the wind, and the thunder may be regarded
as special numifestations of the jmwer of the J)eity, or
these may perhaps be consideretl as veils which he uses
to conceal the manifestations of this power from the
eyes of men.

Vihiit has already been said shows that the mythol-
ogy of the Pawnees inculcates strongly the religious
idea, and impresses upon the listener the importance
of trusting in the Kuler and asking his help.

Perhaps the most singular thing about this Paw-
nee religion, as it has been taught to me, is its close
resemblance in many particulars to certain forms of
the religion of Christ as it exists to-day. While their
practices were those of a savage people, their theories
of duty and their attitude toward the Supreme Being
were on a much more lofty j)lane. The importance
of faith in the Deity is most strongly insisted on ; sac-
rifices must be made to him — oiferings of the good
things of this earth, often of parts of their own bodies ;
penance must be done. ]5ut, above all things else,
those who desire success in life must humble them-
selves before the Deity and must implore his help.
The lessons taught by many of the myths are precisely
those which would be taught by the Christian priest
to-day, while the burnt-offerings to Alius may be
compared w^ith like sacrifices spoken of in the Old
Testament, and the personal tortures undergone dur-

^•ywmm

I'AWXEK KKLRilON.

2ia

ing certain of tlioir ceremonies arc almost tiic exact
equivalents of tiie sulTerings iiillicted on themselves by
certain religionists of the middle ages.

On the whole, the Pawnee religion, so far as I un-
derstand it, is a singularly i)ure faitii, and in its essen-
tial features will compare favourably with any savage
system. If written in our own saered books, the trust
and submission to the will of the Kuler shown in some
of the myths, which I have elsewhere recorded, would
be called sublime. What, for example, could be finer
than the prayer oil'ered by a nuin who, through the
hostility of a rival, is in the deepest distress and ut-
terly hopeless of liunum aid, and who throws himself
on the mercy of the Creator, and at the same time im-
plores the intercession of the nahumc ? This man pre-
pares to ofTer his horse as a sacrifice to tlie animals, but
before killing it he says : " My Father [who dwells] in
all i)laces, it is through you that I am living. Perhaps
it was through you that this man put me in this con-
dition. You are the Kuler. Nothing is impossible to
you. If you see fit, take this [trouble] away from me.
Now you, all fish of the rivers, and you, all birds of
the air, and all animals that move upon the earth, and
you, Sun ! I present to you this animal. You birds
in the air, and you aninuds upon the earth, we are re-
lated ; we are alike in this respect, that one Kuler
made us all. You see me, how unhappy I am. If
you have any power, intercede for me."

ji-

;

\ i

CIIAPTKU XIV.

U it

i' !

'1 t]

THE OLD FAITH AM) THK NKW.

Xo subject is more difficult tlum the religion of
a stivage people. It is not always easy to determine
just what are the beliefs of a civilized race. Certain
marked dilTerences between various sects, and the form
and ritual of each, may be described with more or less
accuracy, but the actual beliefs jire hardly to be arrived
at. This is partly because most people do not them-
selves know what they believe — or at least have never
put in words all the points of their faith — and also
because no two imlividuals have precisely the same
belief.

"We have been told of late years that there is no
evidence that any tribe of Indians ever believed in one
overruling power, yet in the early part of the seven-
teenth century Jesuits and Purita ;dike testified that
tribes which they met believed in .i . 1. and it is cer-
tain that at the present time many tnbes worship a
Supreme Being who is the lluler of the universe.

In the case of many of these tribes this god lives
up above in the sky in what we would call heaven, but
sometimes his abiding place is under the ground or
again at the different cardinal points. The Pawnees,
as already stated, now locate him above, yet one story
which they tell places him in the west beyond the
big water. In the same region is the dwelling-place

214

3
O
o

TIIK ol.l) I'WITII AND TIIK NKW.

til 5

of tlie Sim, the t'liief Blackfoot gin\. Other tribi'S
pliU'u tlu'ir iiriiicipal ^'otl in the oast, aiul often liis
liotiio is bevoncl tlio bi;; water wiiieli siirroiiiuU tlio
continent. Some tribes west of the Kockies worship
tho Wolf as eiiief god and creator.

I am inclined to believe tiiat many of the tribes of
this continent once worshi})j)ed the Sun — as some still
do — or i)erha))S originally the light or the dawn was
tlie god. 'J'he prayer of the IJlackfoot invariably be-
gins, " Hear Sun, hear Old Man, Above IVoi)le listen,
Under-water People listen." This might fairly bo
called a prayer to the Sun as the supremo ruler, but
also an a])peal to all the powers of Nature as well. A
Pawnee ])rayer already quoted reverses this order, and
is addressed more specillcally to " Vou all llsh of tho
rivers, you all birds of the air, and all animals that
move ui)on the earth, and you, O Sun ! "

In cases where the Sun is the Supreme Father, or
old man, tho Moon is often tho sun's wife, the mother,
the old wonum ; or, on tho other hand, the Earth may
be the mother. In any case it is true that all tribes
have a great reverence for tho earth, which they regard
as the producer not only of themselves but of all food,
the fruitful one, from whom comes all their support.
But this is an idea which is as broad as humanity ;
witness our own figure of Mother Earth. In fact, with
many tribes tho earth seems to rank as the second of
tho powers or iniluences that are prayed to, and in
smoking, though the first smoke and prayer is offered
to the power above, the second is almost invariably
blown downward to the earth. In like manner, while
some tribes in blessing or in healing hold up tho palms
of tho hands to tho suidight before passing them over
the person to be blessed or tho part to be cured,

i i

I '

2i(;

TIIK STOUV OF 'I'lIK INDIAN.

*n I

i
I

♦

fi
i

I?! 'I

others, lis tlio ('licvciuics, place the paliiis upon tlio
;,'roiin(l, as if the j^'ood iiilhieiiee was to l»e derived
from the earth.

Besides the siiii, niooii, and earth, certain of tlie
stars are held in esju'ciul reverence, and this is trnc
particnhirly of tlie nioriu!i<,' star, wiiiclj by tlie lilack-
feet is eaUed Karly K'isi'r, and is believed to be the .son
of the Sun and Mooji. The Skidi, as has elsewhere
been stated, made special saci'ilices to this planet,
which they believed to have great iidhienee over their
crops. Many of the tribes have names for the })lanets,
the brighter stars, and the more important constella-
tions, and relate stories to account for their existence
or for the grouping of the stars, 'i'hus the (Jreat
]iear is called the Seven Persons by the niackl'eet,
aiul liroken Rack by the Arapahoes ; the IMeiades,
the Seven Stars l)y Pawnees and JJIackl'eet, (irou|)ed
Together Stars by the ("heyennes. \'enus is known
by the C'heyennes us " lielonging to the Moon." The
Milky Way is called Spirit K'oad by the Cheyennes,
and is the road travelled by the spirits of the departed
on their way to the future world. The IMackfeet call
it the Wolf Jioad, and believe it the short trail from
the Sun's lodge to this world. Most tribes call it the
((host's Road.

liesides such intangible and all-])ervading s})irits
as the Sj)irit Father of the Pawnees, already nu'u-
tioned, and the heaveidv bodies, there arc iiumv su-
permitural agencies of another and secondary class,
which are often spoken of las minor gods, but which
seem rather to occupy a position corresponding very
elo;3ely to the saints and angels of our religious sys-
tem. To such agencies — all of them subordinate to
the supreme power — prayers are offered in much the

TIIK of. I) FAITH AND TIIM NKNV.

t>l7

IK'S,

•ted

lich

very

svs-

e to

the

siinic way tliat for iiwmy criittirirs petitions liavc Im-cu
iiiaik' by certain sects ol' the Ciiristiaii rciiiricMi to saints
ami lioly iiersoiiap'S. These a;;encies, whicli (d'tun as-
sume a material shape, ami which appear to men in
the form of beasts, hinls, rocks, i>nttes, or mouiitains,
sometimes r'.'prosi'nt certain foiccs of Nature, or a;,Min
only qualities or jxtwers, mental «»r physical. These
forces or ((ualitii'S do not, however, invariably tak*' a
visibU^ shape; and althou;,di the thunder is believed
l>v manv tribes to iuive the form of a bird, there are
Others by which it has never been seen.

In all the important allairs (d' life help is askecl (»f
these supernatural a<;encies ; jirayers are made to them
and saerillces olfered — a pulT of smoke, a little food, or
a bit of tobacco or red cloth. They occupy the j)osi-
tion of intercessors, mediators between man and the
snprenu' power. The dilTerent classes of these suj)er-
natural afreiicies which appear to inhabit the air and
skv above, the world about us and the world beneath
us, have already been referred to. They have the
power to <,nve to favoured ones the special qiudities
Avhich eaidi represents, jind, besides, to implore for
liim the hel]) of the Deity. To the nuiii who fasted
and dreamed for power, and who — steadfastly endurini^
the hunger and thirst and the frightful visions whi(di
so often caused him to give up the attempt — bore all
tliis suffering to the end, one of these suj)ernatural
agencies wouM often appear as liis struggle drew to a
close, and thougli at first pcrliaps seeming severe and
stern, would at length soften and become more kindly,
and would then offer wise counsel and friendly ad-
vice, promising to give him its })ower and to help him
through life. This was the man's secret heli)er, his
"medicine," the special being to whom his prayers

21S

Till': STOKV OF TIN-: INDIAN.

f >

;

IHII

1
1

.1:

were hereafter offered. This is wliat is meant wlien an
Imlian is spoken of as l»avin<3^ ijeen ''helped by a woUV
a bear, or an eagle.

Tiie Indian, liowever, does not call this assisting
power by any of these names. He usually speaks of it
as his dream or sleep, and says, " It came to me in
my sleep," or " A s})irit told me in my sleep," and the
Hlackfoot when he prays says, " I^isten, my dream."
The so-called "medicine" or bundle of sacred things,
which numy Indians always carry with them is called
by the same name. The owner believes these things
to have been given him, or that he has been directed
to make them by his dream, and such articles, while
lie has them about his person, protect him from harm.
A friend to whom I was once of service afterward gave
me his dream. He told me that he had carried it in
battle for many years, aiul that it had always kept him
safe. It was a necklace of bear claws and spherical
leaden bullets, and was perhaps the most highly valued
of all his possessions. AVhirlwind, the chief of the
Cheyenncs, used to tell of the power of his dream — a
little hawk which he wore on his war bonnet — which
had always protected him in battle, and especially in
one fight, when, during a charge on his enemies, who
were fighting behind cover, the bullets fiew so thick
about him that every feather on his bonnet was cut
away, yet no ball touched him, nor was the hawk hit.

Instances where men have been struck and knocked
down by balls, which yet, on account of the power of
this protection, did not enter the flesh or inflict a
wound, are commonly spoken of.

It is impossible to state definitely just how these
dilTerent powers are regarded — whether it is an actual
worship that is offered to them ; whether, as has been

111:

TIIK OLD FAITH AND THE NEW.

211)

'»

-a

Rail], "AH nature is alive witli gods; every mountain,
every tree is worshipped, and tlie commonest aninuds
are objects of adoration " ; or whetlier one supreme god
is adored tlirougli tliese various objects and creatui'cs
wliich typify tliat god's various attributes. Even the
Indian liimself does not know just wliich of these is
true. Probably the average red man suitually worships
each such object. At least it is certain that every ob-
ject in Nature may have its special property or power
which is to be. reverenced, and perhaps propitiated.
»Such objects arc probably types, an animal, or plant,
or butte, staiiding for a quality, and being reverenced
as the material embodiment of that quality. If, for
example, the eagle tyjjilies courage and dash in war,
young men about to go on the warpath olfer prayiMs
and sacrifices to the eagle, asking him to give them
some of his bravery. Yet such prayer is not ofTered to
any actual bird but to some representative eagle— per-
haps a si)iritual one— which stands for bravery ; for
while many animals stand for qualities or special pow-
ers, the actual animals are in no sense sacred. Some
tribes teach kindness and consideration to all living
things, and forbid their unnecessary destruction ; but
even these tribes do not regard any animals as sacred
in the sense that they are not to be killed when it
is necessary. The animjds representing these quali-
ties have special powers, they arc supernatural, they
are nearer the^Deity than men, yet they are his serv-
ants. Whatever powers they may possess are not cre-
ated by themselves nor in any sense inherent in them,
but liavc been given to them by the Kulcr, and are ex-
ercised only by his permission.

The coming of the white man has brought to the
Indian— even to him who lias not been exposed to the

'%'..

220

THE STOKV OF THE INDIAN.

f. ■■

i f

tcacliiiig of tlie missionarios — more or less of skc})ti-
ci.sin 5is to his own religion. He believes that all good
gifts, whether mental or material, come from the su-
preme power, and lie sees that the white man has a
monopoly of such gifts. Hence, in many cases, he has
come to think that the white man's god is rich and
wise, while the Indian's is j)oor and foolish. IMie one
taught his children well, and gave them guns, machin-
ery, and money, the power to talk to each other at a
distance, the wisdom to know beforehand what to do
in certain circumstances, and great shrewdness in all
the alTairs of life. The other furnished to his children
oidy their simple arms and utensils and the builalofor
their food. These things satisfied the Indian so long
as he knew of nothing better, but now that he is wiser,
he cannot but feel more or less contempt for a god
who could do no niore for his children than this, and
he does not hesitate to express the contempt which he
feels.

On the other hand, this does not make him more
ready for conversion to a belief in the white man's re-
ligion. This religion offers to him a set of ideas entirely
new and entirely different in character from any that
he has ever had before, and he cannot at first com-
prehend them at all. An Indian friend, who had
listened long to the arguments of a Christian mission-
ary, spoke to me with severe scorn of the foolishness
of the hitter's promises of heaven and threats of hell.
"How is it possible for me to go up into the sky?"
he said. "Have I wings like an eagle to flv awav?
Or how can I get to that place down below ? I have
no claws like a badger to dig down through the
ground."

The Indians, as has often been pointed out, are es-

TIIK OLD FAITH AND TIIH NKW.

^ *« L

scntiiilly a religious pco})lo. Tlicy realize man's feeble-
ness, his inability to successfully contend with the
powers of Xature, and so they ask for the assi.^tance of
all those beings whom they believe to have powers
greater than themselves. The saerillces with which
they accompany their prayers may vary from a spoon-
ful of food or a bit of calico to a scalp taken in war,
a horse, or a piece of flesh cut from the body. An ac-
quaintance of mine, who had lost three lingers from
liis left hand and two from his right, told me that at
diiTerent times in the course of seven years he had
sacrificed these missing members in the furtherance of
a special object, which he at last attained. In one of
the Pawnee stories which I have recorded * a father is
related to have sacrificed his only son, whom he dearly
loved, in the belief that this act would secure divine
favour.

There can be no doubt that in many cases the In-
dian religion of to-day has been greatly infiuenced by
the teachings of Christian missionaries, and this seems
to be true of Pacific coast triijes to a much greater
degree than of those dwelling on the plains. More
than once, when camping with Indians whose home lay
on the west side of the Kocky Mountains, I have been
impressed by the survival of evidences of Christian
teachings among people who have apparently forgot-
ten those teachings, even though some of their forms
still persist. And when one sees a wild Indian- -one
wdiom he knows to be a thorough pagan — make the
sign of the cross before he prays, one cannot but
wonder whence came this man's knowledge of (jiod,
who told him the story of the cross.

. ' i

Pawnee IIiTo Stories and Folk-Tiiles, p. 1(»1.

m •■

i)')')

TIIK STUUV OK Till-: INDIAN.

;i !.

i lip

Such a sight curries tlic mind l)a('k over the cen-
turies, and makes real to tlic observer tlie extent and
the permanence of tlic devoted work done here in
America by the black-robed jM'iests who marched with
tlie little steel-clad army of the C'onquistadores when,
with all the ])onip and circumstance of glorious war,
they entered ^Mexico. At first these fathers made
tlu'ir converts by tlie sword. Later their unflagging
zeal and i)atient faith subdued tribe after tribe, until
at lengtii tbey reached the western ocean. Slowly
they spread along the coast, nortii and south, and to
the outlying islands of the sea, and planted tlie cross
deeper and dee})er in the wilderness. In trackless
deserts, in tangled forests tiiey preached Christ and
his kingdom. The wild tribes of the parched cactus
plains, the gentle races of the Pueblo villages, the
hardy fishermen of the seashore alike yielded to the
faith and energy which inspired these ministers of
God, Little by little they made their way up the
coast — you can trace their progress on the map to-
day — San Diego, San Pedro, San Luis, San Jose, San
Francisco, San Juan — ever fighting the battle of the
cross, upheld by their faith. The blazing sun of sum-
mer poured down upon them his withering heat; they
did not blench. The frosts and snows of winter
chilled them ; they pushed on. Sky-reaching moun-
tains barred their progress; they surmounted them.
Floods stood in their way ; they crossed them. Pain-
fully, slowly, on foot through an unknown country,
in perils of waters, in perils by the heathen, in perils
in the wilderness, " in weariness and painfulness, in
watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings
often, in cold and nakedness," they held their stead-
fast way. Xo danger daunted them, no difficulty

Tin-: OM) FAITH and tiik xi:\v.

2-2.^>

turnetl them back. Dcjitli did not stop their inureli.
If one faltered and stumbled and fell, another stepjjed
calmly forward and took his place. Is'o need now to
look at the means tl'cy sometimes employed, nor to
remember that among these servants of (lod all were
not alike worthv. Look onlv at what they accom-
plished, and remember at what Ji cost. And though
their earnest labours failed to establish liere in the new
■world the religious empire of which they dreamed, yet
no doubt each faithful soul had, in the consciousness
of duty well performed, his own abundant reward.
And although of their teachings in numy tribes much
or all has been forgotten, still, even now in wild eami)s
in the distant mountains, the sign of the cross and
the vesper bell may remind the wanderer of a time,
now long past, when faith was strong aiul men were
willing to die for God's glory. There, in such lonely
camps among rugged peaks and far from the haunts
of men, is still practiced a rite of the Church. There
still grows, though stunted, deformed, and changed,
the plant whose seed was first sown centuries ago by
that devoted band.

I i

in :;

CHAPTER XV.
THE coMixu or Tin: wiiitk man.

KxoWLKDOK of tlie white man came to the differ-
ent tribes of tlie west at dill'erent times, but a cen-
tury ago most of tliem knew little of him, and there
are many tribes which have had a real intercourse
with the whites for a still shorter time. Long before
this the Spaniards iu the southwest and on the Pacific
coast had made their presence felt, but the Indians
usually do not consider that Spaniards are of the same
race with tlie people of European origin who came to
them from the east, and often they have a special
name for them.

Even after the Indians had learned of the existence
of white people, they did not at once come into con-
tact witli them. It was often (piite a long time before
they even began to trade with them, and when they
did so, it was in a very small way. The first articles
traded for were arms, beads, blankets, and the gaudy
finery that the savage loves. Horses — which trans-
formed the Indian, which changed him from a mild
and peaceful seeker after food to a warrior and a
raider — were by many tribes first obtained not directly
from the whites, but by barter from those of their
own race.

Most tribes still preserve traditions of the time
when they met the first white men, as well as of the

224

TUK CUMING UF THE WHITE MAN.

2l>5

time when thoy first saw horsos; but in many ciiscs
tliis was 80 long ago tliat all details of the oecurrenco
have been lost. Jt is certain that the Spaniards and
their horses had worked their way up the Paeilic
slope into Oregon and Washington long before there
was any considerable inllux of white tra})pers into the
plains country and the Kocky Mountains; and that of
the western tribes, those which in miles were furthest
from Mexico were the last to learn of the whites and
their wonderful powers. One of these peoples was
the Blackfeet, of whom I have been told by men still
living in the tribe that fifty years ago no IJlackfoot
could count w]) to ten, and that a little earlier the
number of horses in all three tribes of that confedera-
tion was very small. Then they had but few guns,
and many of them even used still the stone arrowheads
and hatchets and the bone knives of their primitive
ancestors.

A people whose intercourse with the whites has
been so short aiul, until recent times, so limited, ought
to retain some detailed account of their earliest meet-
ing with civilized men, and such a tradition has come
to me from John Monroe, a htdf-ljrced I'iegan, now
nearly seventy years old. It tells of the first time the
Blackfeet saw white peo])le — a party of traders from
the east, either Frenchmen from ^[ontreal, or one of
the very earliest parties of Hudson Bay men which
ascended the Saskatchewan lliver. John Monroe first
heard the narrative when a boy from a lilood Indian
named Sutane, who was then an old man, and Su-
tane's grandfather was one of the party who met the
white people. The occurrence probably took place
during the latter half of the eighteenth century.

When this people lived in the north, a party of the

i 1

it H

r '

220

TIIK STORY OF TllH INDIAN.

1 Jr

k ^

BluL'kfeet started out to war. Tht'v truvolk'd on, iil-
wjiys going soutlnvjinl, until they ciinie to u big water.
AViiiie passing through ti belt of timber on tlie north
baniv of this river, tiiey came upon what tliey took for
strange beaver work, wiiere these animals luul been
cutting down the trees. lUit on looking elosely at
the cuttings, they saw that the chips were so large
that it must have been an animal much bigger than a
beaver that could open its mouth wide enough to cut
such chi[)S. They did not nnderstand what this could
be, for none of thein liad ever seen anything like it
before. Each man e.\[»ressed his mind about this,
and at last they concluded that some great under-water
animal must have done it. At one i)lace they saw
that the trunk of a tree was nussing, and found the
trail over the ground whore it had been dragged away
from the stump. They followed this trail, so as to
see where the animals had taken the log, and what
they had done with it, and as they went on, they
found many other small trails like this one, all leading
into one larger main trail. They then saw the foot-
prints of persons, but they were prints of a foot
shaped dilTerently from theirs. There was a deep
mark at the heel ; the tracks were not flat like those
made by people.*

They followed the trail, which kept getting larger
and wider as it went. Every little while, another trail
joined it. AVheu they came to Avhere they could look
through the timber, they saw before them a little open
spot on the bank of the river. They looked through
the underbrush, and saw what they at first thought

* This deep murk was no doubt the imprint of the heel of a
shoe.

THE COMING OF TIIK WIIITK MAX.

2-21

were boars, and afterward took to be })er!<oiifs, lit'tiii<]f
lo,i;.s and j)iitting tlieiii up in a lar<;e pile. 'J'iiey crei>t
eloser, to where they eoiUd sec better, and tiien con-
eluded that these were not people. They were very
woolly on the face, liong masses of hair hung down
from their eh ins. They were not elothed — wore no
robes. 'I'he IMaekfeet .said : '' Why, they have nothing
on! Thev are naked I " Some of them said, " Those
are Si'ii/c //77U' " (water jteople). They stole around
to anotiier point of the timber, still nearer, where they
could sec better. There tiiey came close to one of
these people alone, lie was gathering sticks and p\it-
ting them in a })ile. They saw that the skin of ids
liands and face was white. This one had no hair on
his face.* So thev said : " Well, this must be a she
water animal. The he ones have hair on the face,
and the she ones do not."

The oldest num of the party then said : " We bad
better go awav. Mavbe thev will smell us or feel us
here, and perhaps they will kill us, or do something
fearful. Let us go." So they went away.

When they got back to their camp, they told what
they liad seen ; that to the south they had found aiu-
mals that were very miu'h like people — water ainmals.
Thev said that these animals were naked. That some
of them had red bodies,f and some were black all over,
except a red nuirk around the bodies and a fine red
tail.;); .Moreover, these people wore no robes or leg-
gings and no breech-elouts.

* Tliis was probiibly 11 boy {,'jillioring poles for roofing.

•}■ Wore red shirts.

X The old Hudson Bay men used to wear about the waist a
red sash the ends of which hung down in front. Wiien they
were working, to get these ends out of the way, they would pass
16

22«

Till-: 5;t()|{v ov tiik Indian.

Tliis description ciiiiscd a <^rvut excitciiicnt in the
canii). Some tiiou;,'iit lliiit tlio straii^'i! lH'iM;^'s wt-ro
wiitiT aiiiinals, and otliiTs tiiat they were u lU'W jk'O-
])!('. All tiiu nicji of the camp started south to sco
wiiat tiiis could be. IW-t'ore tlicy left the camp, the
hea«l man told them to be verv careful iit dealiiii'' with
the animals, not to interfere with them nor t(» ;^('t in
their way, and not to try to hurt them nor to an<;er
them.

The i>arty started, and when they reached tho
openinij;, the ajiiuuils were still there at work. After
they had watched them for some time the lu-ad man
of the l)arty said to the others: "All you stay here,
and 1 will <'o down to them alone. If tlii'V do nothini'
to me you wait here, but if they attack or hurt me,
you rush on theui, and we will light hard, and try not
to let them capture any of us." The man started, and
when he came close to the corner of the houses ho
stood still. One of tlie men, who was workinj:; near
by, walked up to him, looked him straight in the face,
and stretched out his arm. The Indian looked at him,
and did not know what lie wanted. Some more of
the men came up to him, and the Indian saw that all
of them were jjcrsons like himself, except that they
were of a dilTerent colour and had a dill'erent voice.
The hair on their faces was fair.

When the other Indians saw that no harm had
been done to their leader, some of them went down to
him, one by one, and by twos and threes, but most of
the party remained hidden in the timber. They were
still afraid of these stranjre new beinsfs.

tliein around the body and under the susli, so that they hung
down behind.

t I

TIIK (OMINCJ OV TIIK WIIITK MAN.

-lO

'I'lic wliitcs sj)(»k(' to tlioni, ami asked tluni to
roiiu' into tlic house, niakiii".,' motions to them, hut tlio
Imiiaiis (lid not understand wiiat was meant by these
isi;j:ns. '{'he wliites would walk away, and then come
hack and take hold of the Indians' rohes and pidl
them. At last some of tiie Hlaekfeet followed tlic!
while men into the house. 'I'hose who had ;,^)ne in
came hack and told the others stran<;o storii-s of th(^
woiulerful thiiiirs they had seen in this house. As
they ;j:ained eonlidenee, many others went in, while
still otheis would not go in, nor would they go elosc
to the new j)eo]»le.

The whites showed them a long and rurious-look-
ing i)iece of wood. They did not know of what kind
of stone one part of it was nuide. It was hard and
black. The white nam took down from the wall a
white cow's horn and jjoured out some black sand into
his hand, and ])oured it down into a hole in this long
stick. Then he took a little bunch of grass and pushed
this into the hole with another stick, then measured
with his fingers the length of the stick left out of the
liole. Then he took a roniul thing out of a bag, and
put it into the hole, and ])ut down some more fine
grass. Then he poured out some more of the black sand
into the side of the stick. The Indians stood around,
taking great interest in the way the man was hand-
ling this stick. The white man now began to make
uU kiiuls of signs to the Indians, which they did not
understand. Sometimes he would make a big sound
with his mouth, and then point to the stick. He
would put the stick to his shoulder, holding it out in
front of him, and make a great many motions. Then
he gave it to one of the Indians. He showed him the
uuder parts, and put his finger there. The Indian

2']()

TIIK SToliV OF TIIK INDIAN.

Ii ;

. '

f i

tniiclu'tl tlio under part ninl tlic stick went olT in tliu
air aiul iiiado a tliiiiulcriti;; sound, a tcrriWlc crash.
'I'hu Indian sta^ri^crcd hack, and tlic otlicrs wcro very
niiu'li Ht'ari'(l, Some dropix-d to the j,M'ound, while all
tlu! whites laii;;he(| and shook their iieads at them.
All laii,i,Hu'd, and niatlo many siu'iis to the lilaekl'eet,
iiono of which they understood. The white man took
down the horn of hiack sand, and ai^ain did these
thin;;s to the stick, but this time tlie Indians all sto(»d
hack. They were afraiil. When he had llnishe<l the
motions, the white man invited them out of (h)ors.
'i'hen lie sat d(nvn, and took aim at a lo«' Ivinj,^ on tlio

round.

The same "Treat thunder sounde(l.

1I<

walked up to the 1(% showed the bullet iiole, and
])uslied u little stick into it; then lie loaded the gun
again.

By this time the Indians were beginning to under-
stand the j)ower of the stick. After the white man
had loaded it, lie handed the gun to the Indian, took
liim cdoso to the log, showed him how to aim the <^\\n
id how to pull the trigger. The Indian llred and hit

the log.

The white men showed these lilackfcet their knives,
whittling sticks with them, and showing them how
■well thev could cut. 1'he Indians were vcrv much do-
lighted with the ])ower of those knives. Then they
saw a big, wooUv white man standing out in front of
the house, and ho with his axe would cut a big log in

two in onlv a short ti

All these thinjrs were ver

strange to thorn. The white men looked rloselv at the
lilackfoot war dresses and arms and wanted them,
and gave their visitors some knives and copper cups
for their dresses and the skins that they wore. The
visitors stayed with the white men some days, camping

Till-: (O.MIXd <M' TlIK WIIITK MAN.

L>;Ji

iioar l>y. 'I'lioy kept wojidcriii;,' at tlicso pcoplo, at liow
tlu'V l<)(»k('(l, till' tiling's wliit'li tlu'V lia<i,aiul wliat tlirv
liid. 'I'lii' wliitc mt'ii kt'pt tiiakiii;; >i^'ii.s tu tlii'iii, but
tlu'V understood iKttliiii;^' ol' it all.

After a titiie the Blackfeet ri'tiirne<l to their camp.
Afterward, niaiiy others vi>ited the whites, and tlii.s
was the Ite-Miuiin'' of a fiieiidlv intercourse between
the two pt'oples. After a time they came to under-
stand eacdi other a little, and trade relations were
opejied. The Indians learned that they could <:et tho
white man's thing's in ex(;han;;e for the skins of small
nniriuds, and they be;;an to trade and to <,^'t ;^Mins. Jt
was when they ^ot these artns that they lirst bi'^'an to
take couraire, and to go out of the tind)er on to tho
jtrairie toward tho mountains. In those old (hiys tho
Hudson Hay traders used to tell tiie Indians to bring
in tho liair from the skins of l)ufTalo, to put it in
sacks a?ul brin,<; it in to trade. They did so, l)ut all
of a sudden the traders would take no more bulTalo
luiir.

This probably refers to tho attomjit made during
tlio last century in tho Selkirk settlement to establish
u corporation for tnakiug cloth from bulTalo hair.

Of tho special articles brought by the white men,
the first to exercise an important intlueiu'o on tho
people were horses. Tho possession of those animals
greatly increased their liberty, stimulated them to
wars with their neighbours, and in fact wrought a
most important change in the character of tho peo-
ple.* Tho knowledge of tho horse advanced from tho
south northward, and those animals spread northward

* Blac'kfoot Lodge Tulcs. p. 243.

TIIH STOItV OK TIIH INDIAN.

!H '

i It

!i». :

jf r

uj) tl»c PaciHc coast more rapidly than on the east side
of the mountains. Tlie tril)es of the southern plains —
Coinanches, Kiowas, Wicliitas, An'i)ahoes, Xavajoes,
and otliers — olttained liorses very early. 'J'he Pawnees
and various tril)es of the Dakotas later. The I'tes,
Snakes, and Kutenais had horses early; and the last
of the i)lains trihe to obtain them were the lilackfeet,
Assiniboines, and Plains Crees. In the ease of trii)es
that have \ong had horses, it is inii)ossible to even aj)-
proximate the date at which they were obtained — it
lia])pened too long ap) — but with the more northern
tribes, which have had horses for a short time only, I
have been more successful in my incpiiries, aiul from
several old men among the Picgans 1 have accounts
of the first coming of horses.

As I have said, manv mvths exist to account for
the coming of the horse, but this Piegan testimony is
that of an eve-witness. Wolf Calf is probabiv over
one hundred years old. lie well remembers when the
first white men i)assed through the country, and old
men of seventy years or thereabouts tell me that lie
was a proved warrior when they were little Ijoys. lie
believes that he was born in 111)3. From him 1 have
definite and detailed accounts of the ways of the Pie-
irans in davs before thev had been at all inlluenced
by civilized man. I believe liis statements to be as
worthy of crech'nce as any can be which depend solely
on memory. The account which follows is a transla-
tion of his narrative, taken down from his own lips
some years ago. He said :

" Long ago, when I was young, just gettitig big
enough to use a bow, we used arrowpoints of stone.
Then the knives were made of flint. Not long after
this, arrowpoints of sheet iron bega7i to corr.e into use.

■WWB

ZLMXSSSiSSBSSISSBae^'

big

TIIK (C)MLVG OF TIIK WIIITK MAX.

After wo iisod tlie stono knives wo boijiin to irct wiilto
mcu's knives. Tlie first of these that we liad were
mude of a strip of tin. This Wiis svt into a bone, so
tliat only a narrow cdgo of the tin i)rotrM(le(l, and liiis
was sharpened and nsed for si<inning.

" liefore that time the IMegaiis liad no liorses.
When they moved their camp they paela'd their hxlL^es
on doijs.

" Tlic first liorses wo over saw eame from west of
the mountains. A band of the riei^ans were eamix'd
on ]?elly liiver, ut a place tiiat we call 'Smash the
Heads,' where wo jumped buffalo, 'i'iiey had been
driving buffalo over the cliff here, so that thev had
plenty of meat.

" There had come over the mountains to hunt buf-
falo a K fonai who had some horses, and he was run-
ning buffalo; but for some reason he had no luck.
lie could kill nothing. He had seen froju far off the
riegan camp, but he did not go near it, for the Piegans
and the Kutenais were enemies.

U M^

This Kutenai could not kill anvtli

lllL'

and 1

aiul his family had nothing to eat ivnd were starving.
At last he made up his mind that he would go into
the camp of his OKomies and give liimself uj), for ho
said, ' I might as well b-- killed at once as die of hun-
ger.' So with his Avife and children he rode away
from his camp up in the mountains, leaving his lodge
s .mding and his horses feeding about it, all except
tlioso which his woman and his three chihlren were
riding, and started for the camp of the Piegans.

"They had just made a big drive, and had run a
great lot of buffalo over the clifT. There were many
dead in the piskun, and the men were killing those
that were left alive, when suddenly the Kutenai, on

23-t

TIIK STOUY OF TIM'; INDIAN'.

:'*■' <-

i [li

^ li

'■-U-i;

liis liorsc, followed by liis wife iiiul children on theirs,
rode over a hill near by. When they saw hini, all the
I*ie<i;uis were astonished and wondered what this could
be. >sone of tbeni had ever seen anything like it, and
they were afraid. They thought it was sonietliing
nivsterious. The chief of the I'iegans called out to
his people : 'This is something very strange. I have
heard of wonderful things that have happened from
the earliest times until now, but I never heard of anv-
thing like this. This thing must have come from
above (i. e., from the sun), or else it must have come
out of the hill (i. c., from the earth). Do not do any-
thing to it; be still and wait. If we try to hurt it,
may be it will ride into that hill again, or may be some-
thing bad will happen. Let us wait.'

"As it drew nearer, they could sec that it was a man
coming, and that he was on some strange animal. Tiic
Piegans wanted their chief to go toward him and speak
to him. The chief did not wish to do this; he was
afraid ; but at last he started to go to meet the Kutc-
njii, who was coming. When he got near to him, the
Kutenai made signs that he was friendly, and patted
his horse on his neck and made signs to the chief. ' I
give you this animal.' The chief made signs that he
was friendly, and the Kutenais rode into the camp
and were received as friends, and food was given
them and they ate, and their hunger was satisfied.

" The Kutenai staved with these Piegans for some
time, and the Kutenai man told the chief that ho had
more horses at his camp up in the mountains, and that
beyond the mountains there were plenty of horses.
The Piegan said, ' I have never lieaj'd of a man riding
an animal like this.' lie asked the Kutenai to bring
in the rest of his horses ; and one night he started out.

'wmamK

BWB!

TIIR COMING OF THE WHITE MAN.

and tlic next duy came hack driving all his liorscs be-
fore him, and tiiey came to the camp, and all the peo-
ple saw them and looked at them ami wondered.

" Some time after this the Kntenjii said to the Pie-
gan chief : ' My friend, why not come across the moun-
tains to my country and visit me? I should like to
have von see mv countrv. Hring with vou those of
your i)eoplo who wish to come. My peo})le will give
you many horses.'

" Then the Piegan chief said : ' It is good. I will
go with you and visit you.' He told his people that
he was going with this Kntenai, and that any of them
who wished to do so might ijo with him. Manv of the
Piegans packed their dogs with their lodges and with
dried meat and started with the Kntenai, and those
who had no dogs packed dried meat in their parlleches
and carried it on their backs.

" In those days the Piegans did not take women to
sit beside them until they were near middle life — about
thirtv-five or fortv vears old : but among those who
uent across the mountains was a voung man less than
thirty years old, who had taken a wife. Many of the
people did not like this, and some made fun of him
because he had taken a wife so voung.

" The party had not travelled many days when they
got across the mountains, and near to where the Kn-
tenai camp was. When they had come near it, the
Kntenai man went on ahead, and when he had reached
his village, he told the chief that he had with him vis-
itors, Piegans who lived on the prairie, and that they
had no horses, but had plenty of bulTalo meat. The
Kntenai chief told the man to bring these Piegans
into the camp, lie did so, and they were well re-
ceived and were given presents of horses, and they

ni!i"f r

Mi.rM'llli

i'^. ■ i ill

t . .

Ill

;: .^•

236

Till'] STORY OF Till-: INDIAN.

tnidc'd tlit'ir bufTiilo nicjit for more linrsos. Tlio vouiiff
niiin witli the wifo luid four parllochos of dried inoat,
and for each onu of tlicsjo he received a horse, and all
four were mares.

" The Piegans stayed with the Kuteuais a loni^
time, but at length they returned over the mountain?}
to their own country, taking tlieir horses witli them.
AVlien the other bands of tlie Piegans saw these horses
and heard wliat luid liap[)ened, tliey began to nuike
peace with the Kutenais, and to trade witli them for
nu)re liorses. The voung man who liad a wife kept
the four mares, and took them about with him wher-
ever he went. He said to his wife: " We will not give
away any of these horses. Thev are all mares and all
voung. Thev will breed and soon we will have more.'
The mares bred, and the young man, as he grew older,
proved to be a good wtirrior. He began to go to war
against the Snakes, aiul to take horses from them, and
after a time he had a great herd of horses.

" This voung man, though once evervbodv liad
laughed at him, fiiudly became head chief of the Pie-
gans. His name at first was Dog, and afterward Sits
in the ^Aliddle, and at last Many Horses, lie had so
maTiy horses he could not keep track of them all.
After he had so many horses, he would select ten boys
out of each band of the Piegaiis to care for his horses.
Many Horses had more horses than all the rest of the
tribe, ^[any Horses died a good many years ago.
The>o were the first horses the Piegans saw.

" When they first got horses the people did not
know what they fed on. They would offer the ani-
mals pieces of dried meat, or would take a piece of
backfat and rub their no.ses with it, to try to get them
to cat it. Then the liorses would turn away and put

.-J..«.yLJJ!!IH

TIIK COMINC. OF THE WIIITH MAX.

no*"

ago.

down tlieir ]u'iul?i, luul begin to cut the grass of tho
prairie."

Tlie (late first mentioned by Wolf Calf would be
— if we assume his age to be given correctly — about
lSO-i-l!S()G, or when he w;is from ten to twelve vears
of age, and I presume that their lirst horses may have
coino into the hands of the lilackfeet al)out that time,
or in tho very earliest years of the present century.
This would agree fairlv well with the statement of
Mr. Hugh Monroe, who says that in 1813, when lie first
came among this people, they had possessed horses for
a short time onlv, and had recentlv begun to make war
excursions to the south on a large scale for the })urposG
of securiug more horses from their enemies. Hugh
^[onroe's wife, wdio "was born about 1I0(!-1T98, used
to say that Avhen she Avas a little girl the Piegans had
no horses, dogs being their only beasts of burden, and
all the evidence that I can gather in this tribe seems
to point to the date given jis that at which they ob-
tained their first liorsos. AVe know that the chief
Many Horses was killed in the great battle of the Cy-
press Hills in the autumn of 18GT, and lie is always
spoken of as a very old man at that time.

Wolf Calf also gave the following account of the
first visit of white traders to a Piegan camp. He said :
" White people had begun to come into this country,
and Many Horses' young men wanted ropes and iron
arrow^points and saddle blankets, and the people were
beginning to kill furs and skins to trade. ^lany
Horses began to trade with his own people for these
thinofs. He would ask the voung men of the tribe to
kill skins for him, and they would bring them to him
and he would give them a horse or two in exchange.
Then he would send his relations in to the Hudson

ill

i' 1

(; ■

'"■'■ '.

iii

!: ill

208

THE STDIIY OF TIIK INDIAN.

l^ny post to tr.idc, but lie would iiovor j;o himself. TJie
wliito men wanted to see liim, juid sent word to him
to come in, but he would never do so.

"At leny^th, one winter, these white men parked
their do<; sledges with goods and started to see Majiy
Horses. 'J'liey took with them guns. The I'iegans
heard that the whites were coming, and Many Horses
sent word to all the })eople to eoine together and meet
liim at a certain place, where the whites were coming.
AVhen these came to the camp, they asked where Many
Horses' lodg(! was, and the peoi)Ie jiointed out to them
the Crow painted lodge. 'I'he whites went to this
lodge and began to unjjack their things — guns, cloth-
ing, knives, aiul goods of all kinds.

" ^Fany Horses sent t\\;o men to go in diiTerent di-
rections through the camp and ask all the principal
men, young and old, to come together to his lodge.
They all came. Some went in and some sat outside.
Then these white men began to distribute the guns,
and with each gun they gave a bundle of powder and
ball. At this same time, the young men received white
blankets and the old men black coats. Then we lirst
got knives, and the white men showed us how to use
knives ; to split down the legs and rip up the belly —
to skin for trade. There were not knives enough for
each to have one, and it was then that knives with tin
edges were made.

" The whites showed us many things. They had
flint, steel, and punk, and showed the Indians how to
use them. A white man held the flint and struck it
with the steel and lighted the punk. Then he gave
them to an Indian and told him to do the same. He
did so, but when he saw the spark burning the tinder,
he was frightened and dropped it.

'•Ammgm

TIIK (OMIXCi OF TIIH WIIITH MAX.

" lU'forc that, firo was niado witli llivsticks, tlio
twirling stick, being made of greascwood, was lianl,
and in the lioUow whicli ivcoived tlic ])(»int, finely
jiowdered dry grass was pnt, winch cangiit tiie iire.
Tiiis was transferred to linder and bluwn into a
name."

As I iiave said elsewliere, tlio possession of guns
and liorses transformed tiie Hlackfeet from a more or
less stationary })eople dwelling in the timber, and de-
voting all their energies to hnnting and the food sup-
ply, to a tribe whoso chief ambition was the iicqniring
of glory and riches by warlike i)ursuits. Now they
began to go to war, and in a few years they had con-
quered from their enemies on the south a great terri-
tory, and had begun to make themselves rich in horses.
Inhabiting a country abounding in bulTalo, it was easy
for them to procure robes to supply to the traders who
at length penetrated their country, and so to provide
themselves with all the goods that the white men of-
fered. But fast in the wake of the white men followed
disease, and smallpox and measles and scarlet fever
breaking out in their camps, swept oiT thousands upon
thousands of the race. The white men learned that
Indians liked liquor and began to use this in trade,
and liquor killed more than disease.

Any tribe of Indians who had obtained possessions
of any sort from the white men had manifestly ". oie-
mendous advantage over any other tribe who still had
only their primitive equipment, and we are told by
Cheyenne tradition that that brave and warlike people
during their migration toward the southwest were ut-
terly routed and put to flight by the Assiniboines, who
had recently obtained guns from the white traders.

As a rule, the early intercourse between Indians

l'«

240

TIIK STOItY OF TIIK INDIAN.

and wliites in tho west was friendly, and tlicir rela-
tions pleasant. Vet among tiio more warlike tribes,
stranger and enemy were synonymous terms, so that
the horses of white men were often stolen. Of course,
when this occurred, elTorts were made to kill the thieves,
and thus active war was very often brougiit about. A
nuin or two killed on either side woidd for some time
to come insure reprisals and lighting at all subse(|uent
meetings of parties of whites and Indians belonging
to the tribe engaged, and each battle would niake
others more probable. Sometimes a i»eace woukl be
made which was lasting, and there are some tribes
which have never engaged in any wars with the
whites, while others, in the face of shameful injury
and ill treatment, have always been their faithful allies
in their wars with other tribes.

mmmmmr^

IWJAl,,

APPENDLX:.

THE NOKTII AMi:i:KANS-VI..STKIiI)AV AND TO-DAV.

The Indians of tliis continent constitute a sinulo
race, wliose i)liysical cliaracteristics aro reniarkablv
alike tliroun^liout all tribes. Though the diverse condi-
tions of life in various parts of a wide continent have
caused difTeronces of stature, colour, and development
in certain directions, these differences are of minor
importance, and it is probable that there is no such
wide variation as is found among different groups of
the white, black, and yellow races.

An Indiiin is always an Indian, yet each tribe has
its own characteristics. The i)opular notion that all
Indians liave the same speech and the same modes of
life is wholly erroneous. In North America, north
of ^lexico, there were nearly sixty distinct linguistic
stocks or groups of languages, which, so far as kiiown,
had no relation to each other, and represent groui)s of
Indians apparently unconnected by ties of blood with
any other family. In other words, these tribes differ
from each other in speech more widely than do the
diiferent European nations ; for all the European na-
tions, such as Kussian, German, Italian— excei)t the
intrusive Turks, Iluns, etc.— constitute parts of a sin-
gle linguistic stock, the Indo-European or Aryan.
The difference between two Indian linguistic stocks,

241

\\h

i? If

i;Jj

2\'2

TIIK SKMIV OK TIIK INDIAN.

giirli iis AI,ir<>iif|iiiii and Dakota, is, tlu-rcforo, not tliat
lu'twccn (Jrirks and (itTrnaiis, hut bi-twccii tlic ^'rcatcr
groups Arvan and 'i'liraiiian, or Arvaii and Scnictic,
and such stocks as Ali;oiif|iiin, Dakota, Paunc*', Atha-
]»ascan, and Ir(M|n(>is constitute families of c(|ual rela-
tive rank with the Old World families just men-
tioneil.

While some of the Indian families were ma<le up
of many trihes speakini^ dilTereiit dialects, or even
iisini? lani|:ua<;es nnintelli^di)le to eaeii other, and c(»n-
trollin^ a vast extent of territory, others consisted (►f
a sinii'Ie small trihe without apparent allinities with
any of its neiijhhours. S(>, on the I'acilic coast, where
uhout two thirds of the ditrerent lini^uistic stocks ex-
ist, one nuiv lliul a little villaufe of lishiui' Iiulians wiio
— they say — have from time immemorial inhahited this
same re;j:ion, and who yet have nothing in common
with their nearest nei^jjlihours a few miles away, and are
unable to communicate with them excei)t by signs, or
— to-day — by the so-called Chinook jargon, the com-
mon trade language of the northwest coast.

lint while a vast territory nught be inhabited and
controlled bv one familv, as much of the eastern United
States and Canada nearly as far as the Kocky Moun-
tains was controlled by the Algonquin family, this
occupancy did not necessarily mean that all otlier
families were excluded from such territory. At va-
rious points all over such a region, there might be
areas, large or small, which were held by tribes genet-
ically distinct from the prevailing family and holding
their own against their neighbours.

As the families differed from each other in lan-
guage, so the tribes differed in culture. North of the
Mexican boundary, all tribes were practically in the

TIIK NoKTII AMKItlCANS.

lM;;

t be

onct-

)lding

liin-

stonp iv^o of (U'vcloprncnt. Tlic use (»f metals was im-
kiiown. In a frw cases, native cdjiper was emplnvctl
for ornament or nlensil, but it was treated as ii stone —
hammered into sliape. It was not known as u metal.
Tlio Indian's arms were made of stone, chipped, ham-
mered, and ^M'onnd from Hint or some other iiard rock.
Ilis clothin;^ was made of skin. Many tribes made
jxtttery of a very simple kind, nsefnl for dishes and
cookin<^ iitejisils. Their permanent dwelliii'^s were as
varied as the re;.'ions which they inhabited, yet in their
mova!)le Iodides or tipis, whi<di were made; of skins or
bark, one type prevaile(l over almost the whole conti-
nent. While the subsistence of the people was lar<j[ely
derived from huntin*^ and fishint^, or from the wild
fruits of the earth, yet a very large })roportion of the
tiibes practised a,i^ricultnro. This is especially true of
those which inhabited the country of abunchmt rain-
fall lying between the Atlantic Ocean and the Missis-
sippi Kiver, yet it was by no means confined to these
alone, for many tribes of the higli dry plains, of Paw-
nee, Dakota, and, in ancient times, Algonquin stock,
raised crops of corn, beans, and S(juashes. The tribes
of the extreme southwest depended for support very
largely on agriculture, and practised irrigation.

Picture writings were used among almost all the
tribes, but were, of course, carried to their greatest
})erfection among those families wliose culture was
highest. Among the Xahuatl and ^fayas of the south,
and the Algonquins and Irorpiois of the north, such
picture writings — on skin, bark, or cloth — sometimes
took the form of long historical documents, or served
to render permanent the ritual of important ceremo-
nies. But even among the nomads of the plains,
paintings on skins often commemorated the important
17

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

&?-

1.0

I.I

'' IIIM IIIIM

life

12.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

-^ 6" —

►

"cr^l

///,

Photographii

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

Q>-

"i i

:!f:

H 1 \

•!..

1 1

iT"

!■ :'

|',|- -i'i

!ii

Hi'

iiji

!,.

''•'

^iii

i:ii

;f:.i'

r f

it ^

lii

I lii

'1?

\||!;:

til*

li ■ J ■

244

TIIH STORY OF TIIH INDIAN.

evonts of tlie year, sometimes by moiitlis, mid some of
these ran back for many years — even, it is said, for a
centiirv. Siicli writinijs were, if not history, ac least
records.

The social con lition of the North Americans has
been j^reatly misunderstood. Tiie place of vonian in
the tribe was not that of a slave or of a bea.3t of bur-
den. The existence of the gentile organization, in
most ti'ibes with descent in the female line, forbade
any such subjugation of woman. In many tribes
women took })art in the councils of the chiefs ; in
some, women were even the tribal rulers ; while in
all they received a fair measure of respect and affec-
tion from those related to them. At a council held
in 1701 with the Huron-Iroquois the women spoke to
the American commissioner as follows : " You ought
to hear and listen to what we women shall speak as
well as the sachems, for we are the owners of this land,
and it is ours. It is we that plant it for our and their
use. Hear ns, therefore, for we speak of things that
concern us and our children."

Among the Mokis and other Pueblos, and among
the Navajoes, men and women work together in the
lields. With the Mokis the young unmarried women
are not expected or allowed to ])erform such heavy
work as carrying water up the mesa, and with the
Navajoes a man may even cut out and sew a buckskin
shirt. Just at present, the keeper of the tribal medi-
cine of the Kiowas is a wonnin, and in the same tribe
the grandmother practically rules the family, although
she works as hard as the other women. Among the
Cheyennes the woman has great influence.

The notion that women were slaves no doubt had
its origin in the fact that their duties are such as civ-

I -:^;;:

mmmmm

mmmmmm

mie of
, for a
D least

ns luis
mil in
)f bur-
[011, ill
orbiide
tribes
fs ; ill
hile ill
i uffec-
il licld
poke to
I ought
)ejik us
is land,
id their
ijrs that

among
' in the

women
h heavy
v'ith the
luckskin
il niedi-
me tribe
ilthoiigh
Long the

Dubt had
1 as civ-

Piiinled Lo(l<ro Skin.
From Forest and Stream.

This is the dressod skin of a biifTalo cow, and once fornie<l part of the lining of a lodpro. Oi\ it Red f'rane. a
r?lac'l<loot warrior, has insorihed the record of some of the more important events of his life. It is a line example
of picture writing;.

The dotted lines which run irregularly through the cut represent the tracks of Red Crane as lie travelled
about over the country. It will be seen wiiere on one occasion he started out with a gun and soon shot an elk ;
that then he went on farther and met an enemy, armed only with a bow and arrow, wh<mi lie killed. A little
farther alonp; three st-alps. with a hand painted at the corner of each one. show his success on his war journey,
while later he took a gun, three more scali)s, and a mule. Almost in the centre of the plate stands a horse tied
by the fore leg to a pin in front of a lodge ; this animal he cut loose and rode it away. In anolhei- jjlace a pic-
tiu'e tells of the day when Red Crane, with six companions, was siUTounded by his enemies in a jiatch of brush.
The two charging grizzl.y bears call up dangers to wiiich lie was exposed while hunting, and the figure of the
eagle recalls some jieculiar experience that he had while catching these birds Other strange adventures, in
which a beaver, a squirrel, a fisher, and an otter had some i)art, are written down in the fragment reproduced.

This is, in fact, a primitive manuscript, a diary or notebook wliich served to keep fresh in its writer's mind
the events of his whole life. The skiu measures about five by seven feet.

y^f !

>ki\

Till-: NORTH AMKltlCAXS.

24.-)

ilizc'd men commonly rcf^iird as toil, while the more
arduous pursuits of hunting and wiir are looked upon
by white men us umusements. As n nuittcr of fact,
tlie labours of tliis sava<^e life were not uneveidy
divided between the sexes. In their home life the
Indians were mneh like other people. The men, as a
rule, were affectionate husbands and fathers, often un-
dergoing severe sacrillees and privations for the sake
of their families. Parents were devotedly attached to
tiieir children, and a strong feeling existed between
the members of a family, even though the tie of blood
nniting them was remote.

Another misconception of Indian character has
obtained a firm footing in the popular mind. It is
generally believed that tliese people are grave, taci-
turn, and sullen in their ordinary life. This is far
from being true. Instead, they are fond of society,
gossipy, great talkers, with a keen sense of humour and
great fpiickness of I'cpartee. In their villages and their
cam^ps, frefpient visits were paid from lodge to lodge.
In time of plenty, feasts were continual, and social
gatherings for dancing, story-telling, or conversation
occurred more often than in civilized communities.
Constantly among young men, and often among young
women, were formed friendships which remind one of
the attachment that existed between David and Jona-
than, and such friendships frequently lasted through
life, or were interrupted only when family ties were
assumed.

It is in the system of government devised by some
of them that the Xortli Americans show their greatest
advance in culture. The so-called civilizations of the
south — of Peru and Mexico — while much higher than
those of tribes inhabiting the territory now the United

BWiT

'JiU^

'I: -J

iHO

'I'ilK S'I'olJV OF TIIK INDIAN.

Stiitcs and Canada, vet dilTiTcd from thcni in dcixivc
rather tluin in kind, and tiie Icai^Mu; of the Irorinois,
since it lias been tliorouirldy unikTstood, lias chal-
lenged admiration both for its organization and il.s
l)urposes. This was an oU'ensivo and defensive feder-
ation of live tribes — the Unondagas, (Jneidas, Senecas,
Cavu<;as,and Mohawks — formed by the Onondaga chief
Hiawatha about the middle of the sixteenth century.
Of it Mr. Hale says: "The system he devised was to
be not a loose and transitory league but a permanent
government. While each nation was to retain its own
council and management of local affairs, the general
control was to be lodged in a fedei-al senate, composed
of representatives to be elected by each nation, liold-
ing olllce during good behaviour, and acknowledged as
ruling chiefs throughout the whole confederacy. Still
further and more remarkable, the federation was not
to be a limited one. It was to be indefinitely expan-
sible. The avowed design of its ]nirjiose was to abolish
war altoo-ether." As is well said bv Dr. lirinton, "Cer-
tainly this scheme was one of the most farsighted, and
in its aim beneficent, which any statesman has ever
designed for man."

As a rule, the government of the Indians was a
simple democracy. The cliiefs were usually elected —
though sometimes hereditary — and held office for life,
or until advancing years caused their resignation. As
has been said, women were sometimes made chiefs.
Often the chief of a tribe was chosen from the chiefs
of the gentes by his fellow chiefs. In one of the
tribes of the Iroquois league the council which elected
the chief was composed altogether of women. But
the chief's power was not absolute. In minor mat-
ters which pertained to the ordinary affairs of the

'J" I IK NoliTIl AMKKICANS.

in:

hold-

was a

3cteil —

or life,

m. As

chiefs.

chiefs

of the

elected

But

)r mat-

of the

everythiy life of the people, he acti-d independently
an<i his orders wei'e oheyed, hut ^M'ave eoneenis, sui-h
as (piarrels ))et\veen jiroininent nu'ii, relations with
TU'iirhhouring trihes, the making of war or jieaee, were
discussed in a council of chiefs aiul prominent men,
wheiv each individual was at liherty to express his
opinion ami to cast his vote. 'J'he head chief acti'd
as the presidinj; ollieer of such council, atid if he w:is
u stron<j: man his views carried ,irreat weight; hut un-
less he could win over to his side a nuijority of the
council he had to yield. Thus the chief's authority
was j)ersonal rather than oflicial, but for this very rea-
son it was strong; for, where the oflice was elective,
that man was nuide chief who had proved by liis deeds
from childhood to middle age that he was a more able
man than his fellows — that he was brave in war, wise
in })eace, careful for the well-being of his ])eoi)le in
the everyday alTairs of life, generous and kiiully, yet
firm — in short, that he was a leader in time of war
and a father in time of peace. His council was com-
posed of men young and old, some one of whom might
later take his place.

I give a brief sketch of the past and jiresent homes
and conditions of some of the more important of the
North American family stocks.

ALCiONQlIX.

The area occupied by this family was far more ex-
tensive than that held by any other North American
stock. On the Atlantic seaboard they controlled the
territory from Labrador on the north to North Caro-
lina on the south. From T^abrador westward, tribes
of this stock occupied all of British America nearly to
the Rocky Mountains and south of Peace Kiver and

iii

■If f

! I

tif, i

248

Till-: STOliV OF Till-: INDIAN.

(Mmivliill Iiivcr. Tlicy also lu'M |tarts of wliat are ii(»w
North Dakota, Mijiiu'sota, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Mis-
souri, all of Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, und West
Vir^nnia, and most of .Michijjfan, Ohio, and Maryland.
There was a settlement in South Carolina, and a west-
ern branch had pushed its way into South Dakota and
Wyoniin<,% aiul westward into Colorado. So other
family of North Americans held territory at all com-
parable for extent or for exeellence — either in fertility
or abundaiu'e of game — with that possessed by the Al-
gonquins, who, in numbers, intelligence, and physical
qualities, stand anu)ng the first of the families of
North American Indians.

It is impossible to (!onjecture what were the num-
bers of the AIgon(|uins before the coming of the
whites, but we may inuiginc that they were large. If
the territory which they iidiabited was thiidy settled,
it was also vast. Most of the soutlieastern tribes of
this stock })ractised agriculture as well as liunting,
and inhabiting as they did a fertile country, which
also abounded in game and in natural fruits, it nu»y
bo conjectured that they fouiul little or no difficulty
in supporting life. It is not likely that in primitive
times they often suffered from liunger. They were
brave, too, and well able to defend themselves against
the attacks of their enemies, ami there would seem to
be no reason why this naturally vigorous stock should
not have been very numerous, at least until it ap-
proached the point where the food question became
troublesome.

In the vast territory occupied by the Algonquins
there were many different tribes, and it is not to be
imagined that all of these recognised the tie of blood
which connected them, or that all of this family were

■1 ''

TIIK NdKTII AMMUICANS.

241)

urns
be
)lood
were

nocossjirily fririuls jmd iillitvs. 'l\w reverse of tliis \v;is
true, aiul <iii!irrels .mil Wiir.s between dilTerent tribes
jirobiibly took pliiee fre(|ueiitly. Vet often tl»e tribes
of tbis bb)oil united a^^ainst tbe lieree Iro<|nois, whoso
territory jilxiut the easternmost of the (Ireat liakes and
tlie upper St. Lawreiiee Kiver, lay in tlie very midst of
tlie Al^'on(piin hinds, and another division of wiiieli bor-
dered tiiese hmds uj)on tbe south. IJetween tliese two
great families tiiere was a dee]) and iiitter liostiiity,
sometimes interrupted by inti-rvals of peace, wiiieh,
liowever, were not of h)n;.f (hiration. 'I'o this rule the
Wyandots, deseendanis of the old Ilurons, were a no-
table exception. They were uniformly allies of the
AI<,a)ii(|uins.

The date at wbieh tbe westernmost l)raiudies of the
Al^ifonquin stock came to their {)resent bomes is com-
paratively recent, for it is within the last two liundred
and lifty years that tbe Arajiaboes — includinj^ tbe (!ros
Ventres of tbe prairie — tlie lUackfeet, and the Chey-
ennes reached tbe Continental Divide. If we may
believe Chevennc tradition, tbev were tlie first tribe
to penetrate as far as tbe liocky ^[ountains. Their
oral history tells tbat with tbe Arapaboes they came
into tbe Black Hills country, in Dakota, about two
bundred and twenty-five years ago, having journeyed
from tbe northeast, perhaps originally from tbe shores
of I-.ake Superior, or })ossibly of Hudson Bay, for
they describe an immense body of water in a barren,
treeless country, abounding in great rocks. The Black-
feet came next. They say that not many generations
ago tbey lived near Peace Kiver, far from tbe moun-
tains. To tbe east of them were tlie timber Crees,
and to tbe nortli tribes of Athabascan stock. They
made their way slowly soutli and west, and probably

2:)U

Till-: STUUV UF TllK INDIAN.

readied tlie Kocky Mountains less tluui one liundrecl
and lift}' years m;^'o.

'J'lie I'ollowin^f list of llic [nincipal trilies of tiio
Al^'onquin stock is taken in ])arL from Urinton and
from rowel! :

! i

!,/ 1 I

i>i

^; yr

: )

■■k^

;'«!{ fe

:|. ■

1 ■■!

AuN'AKi = "castlaiKlcrs." Novii Scotia and south bank of tlio

St. liiiwrciicc Uivcr.
Alooxc^iin — Itcoplc living; "on the other >i(Ic" of the streain.

North of tho St. Lawrence Uiver, Ontario, and t^neliec.
AuAi'AiioK = '• truih'rs" (0 (l)unl)ar). l-'iaiiks of the Kocky

Mountains from IMack Hills to liead waters of the Arkansas

IJiver.
Blackmjot. l"'lanks of the Rocky ^fountains from the Sas-
katchewan Kiver south to Yellowstone River.
Cin::YKNXK = " red or i)ainted" — i. e.. alien, so-called Ity tho

Sioux (Clark). Flanks of tlie Rocky IMountains from Ulack

Hills to head waters of Arkansas River.
CuEK, ai)l)reviuted from Kiristinon = "killer " (?). Southern

and western shores of Hudson JJay, west to Rocky 3Ioun-

tains.
Delawark, or Lcni Lennpi = "original, or principal, men."

Along the Delaware Kiver.
Illinois, from ilini = "men." On the Hlinois Kiver.
Kickapoo = people of the river, "easily navigable." Upper

Hlinois River.
Mahican, a dialectic form of ^lolicgan, but a distinct tril)c.

Lower Hudson River.
Miami = "pigeon." ]\Iiami and Upper Wabash Rivers.
iMiKMAK. Nova Scotia.

Mn.LsiT = "broken talkers." New Brunswick.
Mexomixi = " wild rice people." About Green Bay, Wisconsin.
MoiiEGAN. Lower Connecticut River.
MoxTAONAis = " mountaineers " (French writers). Noitliern

shores of lower St. Lawrence River.
Massachusett = people "at the Blue Hills." On Massachu-
setts Bay.
MoNTAUK = people at the " nianito tree." Eastern Long Island.
Naxticoke. Eastern shore of Chesapeake Bay.

rilK NoKTIl A.MKlilCANS.

2:. 1

• f tho

O.iMiwA (ir Ciiii'i'iiwA — |»('(i|ilt' (if tho '■ imckcrctl iii(i((ii>iii " lO

(W'uri'i'ii). (►iitiiriii UivtT.
I'antko. Nurlliol' Paiiiliiii ShuikI.

I'l VNK ASIIA = '• Wi'Slt'fll |it'n|ilc." Oil l(i\V( I" \\"llliJl>ll KMvcr.
l'(nTA\VAT(»MI =: '" lilnWul'S " — i. (.'., '•coUlltil lilVinillM r>." SnlUll

of liiiki' Mi(liii,'iiii.
Sac (Kox) = " ytllow lurtli " iH't>i'lt' (Drake). AImhiI luick Hivcr,

Illinois.
Shawano or Siiawndk = soutlicni jpcoiilf. On Cuiiiln tIiiikI

Kivcr.

^[ost of tlie oiistoni tribes of tin; AI^l^oihiiiIiis liuvo
loiifj been extinct, Iniving eillier perislied utterly, or
tlu'ir scattered fra<;nients hiivini; migrated and joined
otlier tribes, in wliieh tliev bavo become merged, lint
these extinct tribes will not be wholly forgotten, for
their names are fixed in the geogra})hy of this coun-
try, and will tlius be preserved so long as America
shall eiulure.

In tbe Seventh Annual K'eport of the Uurean (»f
Ethnology, ])uljlished in 1S1»1, the piesent number of
the Algonquin race is given as ninety-ilve thousand,
of which about sixty thousand are in Canada and the
remainder in the United States. !Many of these last
are self-supporting and more or less civilized, though
still clinging tenaciously to many of their ancient be-
liefs and practices. The same volume contains a list
of the tribes otlicially recognized, and their present
numbers and locations, com})iled chiefly from the lie-
port for 18fs9 of the United States Commissioner of
Indian Affairs and the Canadian Keport for 1888,
which gives the following facts :

Abnaki. inchuling Passainaquoddios and Milit«its in Maine, New

linniswiek, and Queliec. 1.8T4(?).
Alconquin, in Ontario and Quobce. Canada. 4,707 (?).
Arapahoe, at Cheyenne agency, Okhilioma Territory, and at

Shoshoni agency, Wyoming. 2,157.

252

THE STORY OF TllH INDIAN.

ii.:i,'

Tlii^ Atso'iiii or Gros Ventres of the Pniirio, a detached Imnd
of the Arapahnos, are not mentioned in this list. Tiiey ai'e
at the Fort Helknap ap'ney in northern Montana with the
Assinihoines. and niiinl)er about oOJ).

lii.AcKKooT, at tlie lihu'lvfoot ai,M'iH'y, Montana, at Calgary, and
on Helly River, in Northwest Territories, (i,T4;}.

CfiKYKXXi;, at Cheyenne agency, Oklalioina Territory, Tongue
River agency, Montana, and Fine Ridge agency, South Da-
kota, 0,473.

Ckkk, in Manitoba and the Xort invest Territories. A few Crees
who were engaged in the Riel rebellion took refuge in Mon-
tana, where tiiey still remain, supporting themselves by
trapping and the sale of articles which they numufacture.
17,:JSG.

Delawakk, about one thousand are incorporated and live with
the Cherokees in the Indian Territory, others are with the
Wichita? in tiie Iiulian Territory, the Scnccas and Onon-
dagas in New York, the Chippewas on the Thames River
in Ontario, the Six Nations on Grand River, Ontario, and
with the Chippewas at the Pottawatomi agency in Kansas.
1, :.■)()(?).

KicKAPoo — a part are at the Sac and Fox agency, Indian Terri-
tory, others at the Pottawatomi agency, Kansas, and some
in Mexico. 702 (?).

Mexomini, at Green Bay agency, ^Yisconsin. 1,311.

Miami, Quai)aw agency, Indian Territory, and in Indiana.
374 (f).

MicMAc. in Xova Scotia, Xew Ri-unswick, Prince Edward Island,
and QueV)ec, Canada. 4.108.

MissiSAUOA, with Monsoni, Muskegon, etc.. in Ontario and Ru-
pert's Land, Canada. 4,790.

]\IoxTA(iAXis, Quebec. 1.019.

Nascoai'EE, Quebec. 2,H0().

Ojibwa or Chippewa, at White Earth agency, jNIinnesota ; La
Pointe agency, Wisconsin ; IMackina agency, IMichigan ;
Devil's Lake agency. North Dakota; Pottawatomi agency,
Kansas ; Chippewas of Lake Superior, Lake Huron. Sarnia,
on the Thames, on Walpole Island, on 3Ianitoulin and Cock-
burn Islands, all in Ontario, Canada, and Sauteux and Chip-
pewas in Manitoba. 31,928 (?).

THE NORTH AMHRR'ANS.

253

(1 l)an(l
iu'V are
villi the

iry, and

Toiiirne
)Uth Dii-

ew Crces

in Mon-

olves by

uCiicUire.

live with
with the
ml Onon-
iies River
tiirio, and
u Kansas.

ian Torri-
and some

Indiana,
^rd Island,
lo and Ru-

icsota ; T^a

iMieliigiin ;

|ni agency,

Ml. Sarnia,

and Coek-

and Chip-

Ottawa, at Qiiapaw agency. Indian Territory ; at Mackina

agency, Michigan; on Manitoulin and C'ockhurn Ishinds,

Ontario, Canada. 4,VM (i).
Peokia. (^iiapaw agency. Indian Territory. IHO.
I'OTTAWA'ioMi, at the Sac and Fox agency, Oidahoina Teri'itory;

I'ottawatomi agency, Kansas; Mackinu agency, Miihi-

gan ; Prairie P»and, Wit^consin ; on Walpole Ishmd, ()n-

tario, Canachi. 1,4(15.
Sac and Fox, at Sac and Fox agency, Oklahoma Territory; Sac

and Fox agency, Iowa; Pottawatoini agency, Kansas. UT-'u
SilAWNKK, Qiiapaw agency. Indian Territory ; Sac and l''ox

agency, Oklahoma Territory; incorporated witii the C'hero-

kecs, Indian Territory. 1.51!).
STOCKiuunciE (Mohican), at Green P>ay. Wisconsin, and in New

York witii the Tusearoras and Senecas. 117.

ATir.\l$AS(AX.

What tlie Algonquin linguistic family was to east-
ern North America the Athabascan was to the west.
Both touched the land of the Innuit on the north, and
the east and west range of c:i'^h covered sixty degrees
of longitude, so that between Hudson Way and the
Rocky Mountains the countries of the two overlapped ;
but while the southernmost tribe of the Mgonquin was
only thirty degrees from the northern limit of the
family, at least forty degrees of latitude sejiarated the
Athabascans of the Arctic from those of Mexico. This
great north and south area was, however, not contin-
uous. There was a wide territory, extending over four-
teen or fifteen degrees of latitude, where — exce})t for
a few small settlements ou the Pacific coast — no Atha-
bascans were found.

Although the area occupied by the Athabascans
was so extensive, it presented in its adaptability for
human occupancy a marked contrast to that possessed
by the Algonquins. These, in their southern terri-

^^Bi 1' '

: 1

i j

' ,1

ffn

J !

I I

:f'

i ■

1 1 i vf

f !'■■(

254

THE STUUV OF THE INDIAN.

torv, inhabited a couiitrv of abiiiulant rainfall, fertile
and admirably adapted for a^i^ritniltiiral pursuits, while
those Athabascans who were not dwellers in the frozen
north occupied an arid, desert country, where rains are
infrequent and agi'iculture impossible, except by means
of irrigation.

Physically, the members of this family are moder-
ately well developed, being often tall and muscular
and very enduring, but those of the north are said to
be short-lived. They are a strong and masterful peo-
l)le, and Mr. Mooney, who has seen much of them,
writes me : " Excepting in the extreme north we find
the Tinne tribes almost everywhere asserting and exer-
cising superiority over their neighbours. This applies
to the detached baiuls in Washington, Oregon, and
('alifornia, and to the Xavajoes in the south. The
Tinne tribes in California have imposed their lan-
guage and tribal regulations upon their neighbours.
The Xavajoes are pre-eminent stock raisers, weavers,
and metal workers. The Apache are our wiliest In-
dian fighters, and were steadily driving the civilized
Mexicans southward, when the United States inter-
fered."

As might be sujiposed from the distance which
separates the homes of the northern and southern
groups of this family, the two diifered widely in their
ways and modes of life. The Athabascans of the north
were hunters and fishermen. In summer they followed
the great game or spread their nets in the lakes : in
winter they harnessed their dogs to the sledges and
careered over the frozen wastes. The desert-inhabit-
ing Apaches and Navajoes of the south know neither
dog sledges nor boats. They are mountaineers and
hunters, famed for their endurance and able to take

fertile

, wliile

i'rozi'U

.ins iirc

' llR'Un.i

mode I'-
ll sell liir
said to
[ill peo-
[ them,
we find
id exer-
i applies
on, and
h. Tlie
leir lan-
ghbours.
weavers,
liest In-
civilized
s inter-

which
southern
in their
Ihe north
followed
lakes: in
Iges and
-inhabit-
neither
leers and
to take

5!
O

)

■„ ■ 1

'( l:i| r i

■IJI

»,

(il

il 1

Hi '.;

:.J||11:: : r

TIIK XOIiTlI AMHUICANS.

1^5:)

UJ1 tlic truck of ji doer, iuul bctwi-on sunrise and sun-
set to run him down iind kill liiru with u knife. Al-
thougli hunters, they Jire also tillers of the soil, viimnvr
corn jind other vegeta])les, and gathering the nuts oi
the pifion, the bean of the niesquite, and tiie root of
the American aloe.

The Athabascans use lodges of skin or bark in the
north, and in the south rude liuts nuule of br-inches
of trees. They make pottery jind wickerwoi-k baskets,
which are so tightly woven that they serve as water
vessels, and their stone metates used for grindino- corn
are far more etMcient implements than the mortar in
which the grain was pounded by tribes further to tho
east. The canoes of tiie interior tribes of the north
are of bark. The Xavajoes have long been renowned
for tho handsome blankets whicli they weave. This
with them is not an aboriginal art, but is borrowed
from their immediate neighbours the Mokis and Zunis,
with whom and with some northwest coast tribes it is
aborigiiud, for the latter weave excellent blankets from
the fleece of the wild white goat.

_ Among the tribes of this family, great differences
exist in the gentile systems and in the laws of con-
sanguinity. In some tribes, descent is in the female
line, and a man considers his father no relation,
while in other tribes the son belongs to his father's
gens.

Of the northern group of the Athabascans, the
southernmost tribe inhabiting the central region are
the Sarsi, who for many years have lived with the
Blackfeet. These are an offshoot of the Beaver In-
dians, and, according to tradition, left their own coun-
try about one hundred years ago on account of a
quarrel with another camp of their own people, and

.,!■

"if,

L\j(l

TIIK STOIJY OF TIIK INDIAN.

I ■:

niigratetl soutlnviinl. They joined tlio Blackfeet, and
liiive lived witli theni ever .since.

Among the bej<t-kno\vn tribes of Atiuibtisean .stoek
are the

Apaciik = '•enemies." Arizona and Northern Mexico.

Atxa = "stranijers." On Copper liiver, Ala>ka.

liKAVER. On IVaee River, British America.

Cnii'i'KWVAX = " pointed coats." Coast of Hudson Bay and

nortli of Crees.
Ilri'A. California, Trinity IJivcr.
Ki:xAi =" people." Kenai [•eninsula, Alaska.
KecHiN = " people." Yukon River, Alaska.
Navajo = *' whetstone or knife- whetting people" (Mooncy).

New Mexico and Arizona.
Nkiiaxi = " yellow knives " {I). Upper Stikine River, Alaska.
Saks I. Jieaver olTslioot.
ShvAXi. Upper Peace River, British America.
Slave. Upper 3Iaekenzie Kiver, British America.
Taki'LI = "carriers." Fraser Kiver, British Cohuubia.
TuTi'TKXA. Ro^ue River, Orejjon.
UMPyi'A. Near Salem, Orejjfon.
Wailaki = j)eo[Uo of the "northern language." Northern

California.

The northern tribes of this group are more gener-
ally known as Hare Indians, Dog Kibs, Ciiippewyans,
Yellow Knives (Nehaiii), Strong Bows, Carrier (Ta-
kuli), etc. There are supposed to be about thirty-
tlireo thousand Athabascans, of whom about one
fourth belong to the northern group. Of the south-
ern tribes the best known are the various bands of
Apaches inhabiting Arizona and Mexico, who have
shown themselves so fierce in war and so aj)t in escap-
ing the troops sent in pursuit of them, and the Kava-
joes, whose fame rests iti large measure on the peacefid
art of blanket weaving. The Apaches are still more
or less wild, and have not made very great progress

TIIH NORTH AMKiaCANS.

toward civilization ; but the Xavajoes possess somo rat-
tle, many horses, and groat herds of sliet'i) and goats,
and have long been self-su})porLing. 'I'hey are well-
disposed and industrious, saving and progressive, and
in advancement toward civilization stand high among
the tribes of the west. They probably number be-
tween eighteen and twenty thousand.

The small tribes of Athabascans of the Pacillc
coast are at various agencies in California and Ore-
gon, usually with tribes of other stocks. They are
moderately advanced, till the ground, raise some live
stock, and the men labour for the whites in the salmon
canneries, the ho| tields, and on the farms.

DAKOTA.

Six States of the Union bear the names of tribes of
the Dakota stock, and of late years no group of North
American Iiulians has been better known than these.
At the time when general immigration to the country
west of the Mississipjn began, this family occupied
much of the territory entered on by the whites, and
for a number of years conflicts and wars were frequent,
culminating in 18TG \vitli the Custer battle. For a
few years after that, tlie army was at work clearing out
the scattered camps of hostile Sioux in Montana and
Dakota, but since that time there has been nothinjr in
the nature of a general war between this stock and the
whites, though there was a short-lived but bloody out-
break in 189U-'91.

The name Dakota or Lahkota, by which tlie prin-
cipal tribes of this stock, the Sioux, call themselves,
means "confederated," "allied," while the commoner
term Sioux is a French corruption of an Algonquin
word, nadowe'si-vg^ meaning originally " snakes," and

;' r

' i

2.JS

THK STOliV OF Till-: INDIAN.

so ononiii's. Jii this sense it lias been nsed 1»}' tlio
Ojibwji in inodei'ii times, altiioiigii not as applicMl to
tile Sionx.

History and tradition (Ind several of tlie most im-
j)ortant tribes of llie Daivotas o('enj)yin<( upper Mieiii-
gan, Wiseonsin, and eastern ^linnesota, tiiougii long
before tliis some must have taken the journey to and
aeross the (ireat IMaiiis. 'I'lie Crows have oeeiipied
the eastern Hanks of the Kocky Mountains, and the
Stonies — a tribe of the Assiniboines — the mountains
still further north for a verv long time. The Assini-
boines, too, must long have lived in the })rairie coun-
try of what is now eastern North Dakota, for — accord-
ing to Cheyenne tradition — they were there when these
last migrated from the northeast. It is probable, how-
ever, that the great body of those tribes now known in
the vernacular as Sioux, lived in earlv historic times
about the western great l.ukes and the head waters of
the Mississippi. From this territory they were driven,
or crowded out, by the westward movement of the Al-
gonquin tribes and by settlements, and spread them-
selves over much of the Clreat Plains.

An eastern origin is now pretty well established for
this stock, for in Virginia, North and South Carolina,
and Mississi]ipi were the homes of tribes now extinct,
which philologists class with this stock.* Such were
the Catawba in South Carolina; the Tutelo, Saponi,
and Woccon, in North Carolina; the Occanecchi in
Virginia ; the Biloxi and possibly other tribes in ]\Iis-
sissipjii. Catlin has showji that the ]\randans reached
the Missouri Kiver bv travelling down the Ohio. With-

* Mooiiey, The Siouan Tribes of the East, Bulletin Bureau
of Ethnology, Wusliington.

THE NOIITII AMKUICANS.

'2:>o

ill recent times a number of the Dakota tribes have
occMpied the timbered eountry, and liave not been
dwellers on tlie i)lain.s. Sueh arc the Winnebairoes,
Usa<;es, Qua[ni\vs, Missonrias, and otiiers.

IMiysically and intelleetually tlie Dakotas stand
lii*;!!, an<l in stature and deveiojiment the mountain
("rows arc exceeded by no tribe in the west, unless it
be t]»c C'heyennes and Arapahoes.

^lost of the tribes have lost the afrrieultural liabits
wliicli all probably once possessed, aiul which the ^Ian-
dans, llidatsa, -md some others still practise. Otliers
liave only recently given up this liabit, as occasionally
shown by a sub-tribal name— as Mini-co-o-ju — "They
plant by the water." Some of the Dakotas manufac-
tured pottery, and the Ma?idans even made blue glass
beads— after the coming of the whites. 'J'his tribe,
too, occupied permanent houses.

There was the widest variation in the gentile svs-
tern, where it existed at all. AVith some, descent was
in the male, with others, in the female line. The
chieftainship was hereditary, descending from father
to son, though an early traveller found the Winne-
bagoes ruled over by a woman chief. The country
held by the Dakota stock in modern times included
a part of Wisconsin and of western Minnesota, most
of North Dakota, Iowa, and ^lissouri, more than half
of Arkansas, ^fontana, and Wyoming, South Dakota,
and a large part of eastern Nebraska and Kansas, and
parts of British Ame'ica near the Kocky Mountains.
Within the last hundred years their neighbours have
been, on the north and east and a part of the west,
Algonquins ; on the south Pawnees, Shoshonis, and
Kiowas ; and on the west, Shoshonis, Kiowas, and Al-
gonquins. Besides this, their territory was interrupted
18

I I

2rt0

TIIK STOUY OK TIIK INDIAX.

by sottlcmonts ot Pawnees, wlio, lmviM<( invaded tlicir
territory, liad driven out, eonciiiered, or were still at
war with various ti'ibes of this stock.

Most of the plains tribes of Dakota stoek depended
for food upon the bulTalo and were wanderers, follow-
ing the herds from j)laee to place, and, on the prairie,
dwelling in the coni(!al skin lodges, which were tho
common habitations of the plains tribes.

The i)ri!icipal tribes of the Dakota stock are :

AnsoRAKA = "Crows" (?). (Tlie imme seems to refer to sonio

kind of l)inl.)
AssiNinoiNKS = '• stoiH' boilers." On Saskiitchewaii, Suuris, and

Assiiiit)oiiie Kivcr, Mritish Ainericu.
BiLoxi. liiloxi IJay, Mississippi.
Catawba. Catawba Iliver, South Carolina.
Crows (or Al)soraka). On Yellowstone liiver, North Dakota.
Dakota Proimcr or Sioux = "confederate." Western Minnesota,

North and South Dakota.
Iowa =" sleepy ones." On the Iowa River. Iowa.
Kaxsa or Kaw. On the Kansas Hiver, Kansas.
Maxdax. Upper Missouri Hiver, North Dakota.
IIn)ATsA or ^NIixiTARis, a branch of the Crows = " those who

cross the water" (Miniiari). rp[)er Missouri Kiver, North

Dakota.
MissouKiA = people of 1 he Oreat Muddy. Originally on lower

Missouri Iliver, Missouri
OccANEECHi. Southern Virginia.

Omaha = " upper stream people." Niobrara River, Nebraska.
Osage. In southern Missouri.
Oto. On lower Platte River, Nebraska.
PoxcA. Northwestern Nebraska.
Quapaw or Arkansa, "down stream people." On the lower

Arkansas, Arkansas.
Sapoxi. Central North Carolina.
WiXNEBAoo = •' stinking lake people." Eastern Wisconsin.

The number of people of the Dakota stock is esti-
mated to be about 45,000, and of these about 43,000

icir
ut

(]0(l

low

iiru',
the

lower

ruska.

It)

'II

I i.

!1 !

l!^!'

■I

hi ''I

TllK NoliTII AMKIilCANS.

'2«'.l

are ill tlic riiitcd StutoH. Alumt 'M,000 hdoti;,' to tlic
Sioiix trilx's, as tlu' term is commonly applied, 1,^00
to tlio Assiiiil)oin('S, l.'^MX) (o tlu? Omalias, 1,(;(M> to tlio
()sii«,'('s, ^,ti(i() to tiic Wiiuu'l»ii<r(K'S, and ;{,(Hi(i to tlio
Crows, iiiciudiii^' tlio Miiiitaris or Ilidatsa. Most of
these Indians iiave made considcraMe pro;;ress toward
civilization. Tliey have cattle, cultivate the j:froun(l
with some success, and, us a rule, live in lo*: houses.

There are no lon^^er any " wild " Indians amoni; the
and tliey are becomin;,' — t!u)u<,di slowly — a fairly hard-
working part of the j>opulation of the West. Tlu'lr
various reservations and aufenc.'ies, of which there are
many, are situated in Wisconsin, Minnesota, the Da-
kotas, Montana, Nebraska, Kansu.s and the Indian
Territory.

IKOtil'OlS.

In tlio earlv liistorv of America no Indian family
was better known tlian the Irorpiois — a name given to n
group of tribes, some of wliom made up the celebrated
Six Nations. The territory occupied by this family
lay wholly in the east, and in two principal situations.
The northernmost of tiiese included territory on both
sides of the St. Lawrence Kiver, from where (Quebec
now stands, westward to Lake Huron, all about Lakes
Ontario and Erie, and south to the Chesapeake Bay.
They thus held portions of Canada, Ohio, ^licliigan,
Central New York, and the greater part of Pennsyl-
vania, southward along the valley of the Susquehanna
to the salt water. The other Iroquois were established
almost in one body in Virginia, Tennessee, North and
South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama. The northern
territory was surrounded on all sides by lands occupied
by the Algonquins, while the southern group of the

i1'

•J

i ' fi'

t i

i.< 1 1

If/ !

,!'i '!,

202

THE STOltY OF TIIK INDIAN.

tribes lijid for iiciglibours Algonqiiijis on the nortli
mid west, Diikotiis on the east, and .Miiskogis on the
south.

No Indian family excelled the Iroquois in physical
development or in culture. The records of the civil
war, in whicli some companies of Iroquois fouglit,
show tiiat these stood highest of any bodies (<f our
soldiers in stature and in physical strength and vigour.
Intellectually they ranked as high. The league of the
iive nations — Cayugas, ^Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas,
and Senecas — to which was afterward added a sixth,
the Tuscaroras, alone stamps them as a stock whose
intellectual vigour exceeded that of their neighbours.
Tiieir intelligence was shown in other ways. 'I'hey
were, to a greater extent than jdmost any other Indian
family, agriculturists, and their crops supplied each
year more food than they could possibly consume.
They lived in permanent villages, but in most other
respects their everyday life was not markedly different
from that of other Indians.

It was among the Iroquois that the gentile system
obtained its highest developnu^nt among our northern
tribes. Descent was in the female line, and mothers
in the Iroquois villages had a power and an influence
greater than those of the men. They were the owners
of the land and of most of the personal property ; they
were the councillors of the tribes, and sometimes even
its chiefs. The ancient gentile system of these people
still persists, even among the civilized Iroquois, on
their reservations in Central New York, and on Grand
River, Ontario, and of late years this has become a
cause of more or less heartburning and dissatisfac-
tion. Among the Senecas to-day half-breed children
of an Indian father and a white woman are called by

THE NORTH AMKKK'AXS.

203

lorlh
I the

,sic5il

civil

iiglit,

f 0\U'

Igour.
[if the

sixth,

ihoiirs.

They
Imlitm
d cat'h
nsume.
i olhor

'crcnt

;viitoin
•thorn
lothors

llUMlCO

owners
; they

es even
people
ois, on
Grand
come a
latisfac-
ihildren
lied by

the Scnccas whites, are not allowed to draw tribal an-
nuities, nor to liave any share in the i)ublic alTairs of
the nation; while the children of a white father and
an Indian mother are regarded as Indians, and have
all an Indian's ri-ihta and privilei^es. The same ride
holds in marria<;es between Indians of the dilTereiit
tribes, the child bi'lon<,Mng to the tribe of the mother
and not to that of the father. This matter has several
times come np in the courts for adjudication.

The southern i;rou[) of the Iroquois included the
Cherokees and the Tuscaroras, the former chielly in
the mountain region of North Carolina and Tennessee,
and the latter in eastern North Carolina. They did
not dilTer especially from their northern relations.
Like them, they built contiected houses of logs, and
fortilied their villagi's. They were industrious agri-
culturists aiul made good })ottery. The ancestors of
the Cherokees wen* (juite certainly the builders of
some of the famous mounds in Ohio.

The myths, legends, and sacred rituals of the Iro-
quois are i)erhaps better known than those of any other
Indians. To assist in the preservation of these they
nsed certain aids to memory in the shape of beads or
shells strung on buckskin strings, the combination of
the beads suggesting certain facts and events. The
Book of Rites, edited by .Mr. Horatio Ilale, is an ex-
ample of the ritual of this remarkable i)eople. The
Cherokees, likewise, had a great body of ritual record-
ed in their modern native alphabet. Mr. Mooney has
procured practically all of this— about seven hundred
formulas— and expects to translate it all. A part has
already appeared in his Sacred Formulas of the Chero-
kees, in the Seventh Annual Ilejiort of the Bureau of
Ethnology. There is a mass of similar material still

'■ I' i

■A

204

TIIK STUIIY OF THE INDIAN.

lf>

III

existing in many, if not in most otlicr tribes, although
few of these extended productions have been reduced
to writing and transhited.

The principal tribes of the Iroquois were these :

Cayuga = people of the "swampy land." South of Lake On-
tario, New York.

Cherokee. Mountuin region of Carolina, Georgia, and Ten-
nessee.

CoNESTooA = "lodge pole j)eople." Lower Susquehanna Iliver,
Pennsylvania, and Maryland.

Erie = " wild eats." South of Lake Erie, Ohio, and New York.

Neutral Natiox. West of Niagara River, Ontario.

NoTTAWA = "snake," i. e., enemy. Southern Virginia.

OxEhU = people of the " stone." Central New Y'ork.

Oxoxuaga = people of the " little hill." Central New York.

Sex EC A. Western New Y''ork.

TuscARORA = flax or hemp pullers (?) (Hewitt ; Morgan makes it
"shirt weavers"). The name refers to a vegetable cloth
fibre. Eastern North Carolina.

Wyaxuot or IIuROXS — Huron is the old provincial French for
"bear." East of (ieorgian Bay, Ontario, and south ; south-
west of Lake Erie in Ohio and Michigan.

The present number of the Iroquois is estimated at
about 44,000, of whom about 9,000 are in Canada. The
Cherokees — one of the five civilized tribes — make up
by far the greater part of these, numbering not far
from 28,000, of whom more than 20,000 are in Indian
Territory, the remainder forming the eastern band,
who are in the counties of Swain, Jackson, Cherokee,
and Graham, in North Carolina. The Cherokee na-
tion, however, includes a large number of adopted
whites and negroes. Of the Cayugas there are about
1,300, most of them in Canada, but a few in New York
and the Indian Territory. About 2,400 Mohawks are
in Canada, as are also 1,000 Oneidas, 300 of whom are
in New York and 1,700 at Green Bay agency, AVis-

THE NORTH AMERICANS.

205

consin ; 350 Onoiulagas are in (^inada, and 550 en
Now York reservations. Of tiie 3,100 Senecas, 12:
are at the Qiiapaw agency, Indian Territory, ^00 are
in Canada, and the remainder in New York. Tiie
Tuscaroras number about 750, of wliom about lialf
are in Canada and half in New York. There are
:00 Wyandots, 300 at tlie Quapaw agencv and 400 in
Canada. Besides these, there are about 4,400 Indians
of tins stock known as Caughnawagas and St. Kegis,
in Canada and southern New York, wlio seem to ho -1
mixture of all the tribes of the Six Nations, the Mo-
hawks predominating. All the Cherokees and all the
New Y'ork reservation Indians are civilized and self-
supporting.

MUSKOGI.

An especial interest attaches to tlie Muskogi or
Chocta-Muskhogi linguistic stock, because its^'sur-
vivors constitute four out of the five so-called civi-
lized tribes, and also because there is a reasonable
probability that they are the descendants of some of
those people who built the great mounds in the Mis-
sissippi Valley and in the Gulf States, which have
given rise to so many speculations and theories as to
their origin. This stock inhabited the country "from
the Savannah Eiver and the Atlantic west to the
Mississippi, and from the Gulf of Mexico north to
the Tennessee River"; and although the tribes dif-
fered somewhat from one another in pliysical charac-
teristics, their relationship is close.

The culture of this people was high. They were
industrious cultivators of the soil, and raised large
crops of corn, beans, squashes, and tobacco. Their
towns were large and fortified, and often built on

|:.|; '

l^^l^

\ -i-:

' M

206

1'IIE STORY OF TlIK INDIAN.

high mounds iirtificially constructetl, iind their liousea
substantial, and contuining several rooms. Thougli
made of stone, their \veai)ons and utensils were very
finely finished.

'JMu'ir religious system was liighly developed and
its ritual elaborate, and they had an extensive oral
literature. Their mortuary customs were singular,
the bodies of the dead in some tribes being ex})ose(l
until the flesh decayed, when the bones were cleaned
and buried in the gentile mound.

The gentile system prevailed, descent being in
the female line. Women had a standing equal to
that of men, and occasionally one filled the otlice
of cliief.

The neighbours of the Muskogi stock were the
Algonquins and Iroquois on the north, the Timu-
quans of Florida, and the isohited Dakota colony of
the Biloxi on the south, and the Natchcs, Tonicas,
and southern Dakotas on the west.

Some of the tribes of the Muskogi stock were :

ALinAMu = " burnt eloaring" {7wt "here we rest") (Gatsclict).

On the Alabiinia Kiver, Alabama.
Apalaciii = *' people on the other side " (Gatschet). Apalaclii

Bay, Floi-ida.
CiiAKTA or OiiorTA — from a Spanish word, meaning "flat

head" (Gatschet). Southern ^Mississippi.
CniKASA or Chickasaw = "rebels or renegades." Northern

Mississippi.
IIiTcniTi = " looking up ahead " (Gatschet). Southeastern

Georgia.
Maskogi or Creek Proper — doubtfully from the Algonquin

word masktgo, meaning "svvami)y." Central Alabama.
Seminole = " wanderers or runaways." Northern and Central

Florida.
Yamasi = " gentle " (Gatschet) Southern coast of South Caro-
lina.

THE XOIITII AMERICANS.

2(17

Tlio territory occupied by tliis stock is tliiis seen
to bo not very hirge, yet owincr to their industrious
bjibits and their adai>t!ibiiity to civilized pursuits, they
liave made a good struggle for existence, aiul to-day-
are doing well aiul increasing in nundjers. The Ai)a-
hichi and Vaniasi are extinct, and but i'ew remain of
tliG Alibamu ; but tluM-e are 10,000 C'hoetaws, •.>,,-iO()
Chiekasaws, 9,,-.00 Creeks, and '2,im Seminoles in'the
Indian IVrritory, a few Choetaus in Louisiana, and
about 400 Seminoles in Florida. The Indians of this
stock who are in the Indian Territory are civilized and
well to do.

Besides tlie stocks already si)oken of, tljere are
others, whose importance deserves a more exteiuled
mention than can here be given. One of these is the
Shoslioni, a family occupying the IJocky :dountains
aiul the phuns on the flanks of that range from llvd
Deer's liiver— which flows into the Saskatchewan—
or perliaps even from tlie head of Peace Ifiver, south
through ]\[exico. This stock includes tribes whose
names are well known, and its culture ranged from
the lowest to the highest, from the miserable I)ig<rors
and Sheep-eaters to the Aztecs, who had some acquaint-
ance with metal, and far exceeded any other Xortli
American tribe in their approach to civilization. To
this stock belong the brave but peaceful Snakes, the
warlike Comanches, the Pai-Utes, the Gosiutes, the
mountain-loving Utes, the Mokis, the CJuaymas, the
IVrayas, the Papagos, the Pimas, the Yaquis, the Az-
tecs, the Tlascalans, and others reaching south to
Guatemala. Dr. Brinton gives forty-four tribes of
this stock, divided into three groups, and coverin<^
territory from British to Central America.

fFf

<5i

2C8

THE STOKY OF THE INDIAN.

Anotlier fanuly of iniportaiice is tlie Pawnee or
Caddo, wlioso territory extended interruptedly from
the Gii'f of Mexico to the u])per Missouri. They
were immigrants from the soutiiwest, probably from
the shores of the Gulf of California, and brought with
them to their northern home some religious cere-
monies and beliefs which remind us of the Aztecs.
The usual form of sacrifice was a burnt olTering.
They lived in permanent villages, tilled the soil, and
manufactured pottery. Some of their traditions al-
lude to a time when a wonum was their chief.

It is hoped that from the foregoing i)ages some
notion may be had of the ^last and present condition
of some of the best- known tribes of the North Amer-
icans.

1)4 "I

INDEX.

Afjriculture, 48, 64.
AltroiKjuiiKs, \>-i7.
Aniniul bulicls, 174,^05.
Antelope, 87.
Arrow luakiiig, 14(3.
Athabascans, 253.
Atius Tirdwa, 202.
Axe, 152.

Bear, beliefs about, 20(5.

Beaver, beliefs about, 20(3.

Berries, 05, 71.

Berry Child, 109.

Big Snake, 178.

Boats, 100.

Bone, gambling with, 27.

Bow, ir)(.).

Bridled Man, 115.
Butt'alo hunting, 71.
Buffalo, in niytliology, 1[i'2.
Buffalo, saered aniniul., 205.
Buffalo stone, (JO.
Buffalo trai)s, 57.
Buffalo, 52, et seq.

Bundles, sacred, 91, 105, 189,

218.

Buzzard, belief about, 207.

Caches, 49.
Caddos, 208.
Camas root, 05, 72.
Canoe, 157 et seq.
Cardinal points, 210.
Carving, 101.
Children's games, 17.
Children, 17, 78.

211,

Cliristianity, teacliings of, 221.
Clothing, 153.
Coldmaker, 173.
Corn, Mother, 19(i, 203.
Corn, origin, 190, 203.
Coup, 142.
Creation, ls3.

Dakotas, 257.

Dancing, social, 24.

Beer, 81.

Dolls, 19.

Dreams and dreaminir, 108. 100,

175,210,217.
Dress, 0, 37, 153.
Dwellings, 144 et seq.

269

Eagle, beliefs about, 207.
Elk, 81, 87.

Feasting, 9, 81.

Ferret, black-footed, 175.

Firesticks, 239.

Fishing, 49.

Four Bears, 97, 141.

Future life, 195 tt seq.

Gambling, 22, 24, 20, i(J0,'l90.
Game as food, 50.
Gardens, 48.
Gliosts, 190 et seq.
Giants, 184.
Government, 245.

Hands, gambling game, 27.

Horse racing, 29.

Horses, lirst possession of, 231.

1', '

:■ ,

270

INDEX.

k\i

' •!. '''I

:tj

'\:&.

Horses taken liy war parties, ss.
Ilouseliold utensils, l.')l.
Iliiiitiii^' Iditlalo, 71.
Jliiiithi;,' Jiioiiiitaiii slieei). S-J.

Imiileiiients, 1-13 tt wy.
i-iiis'kiiii, tlO.
Irociuois, 201.

Left Ilaiul, !i4.
LodgtH, 144 it ftq.

Marria<,'c, 8, 80 tt mq.

Maul, l.rJ.

Medicine, 175.

Medicine man, 180.

Medicine sweat, 5.

Missionaries, '2'_'1.

Moccasins, 1.j3.

Moon, ii04, 21.").

Mountain sheep, 81.

Mountain siieep. liuntini: tlio, 82.

Musical instruments, lil2.

Musko^ns, 20").

Nahurac, 205.

Painting bodies, 4, 25.

Pawnees, 208.

I'awnee creation mvtlis, 184.

Pawnee marriatre, 41.

Pawnee-Skidi %lit, 127.

Pejntnican, 49.

Picture writing, 243.

Piegan and Crow and firos Ven-
tres light, 134.

Pipes and smoking, 31, 45, 101,
202, 209.

Pottery, 154.

Prayers and praying, 52, 01, 68, 73,
87, 91, 105, 175, 202, 210, 213, 215.

lieincarnation, 199.
lieligious ceremonies, 52, 61, 68,
73, 87, 91, 203, 204.

Ming game, 5, 21,
Kootrt fur food, 04.

Sacred bundles, 91, 106,189,211,

2 is.
Sacrifices, 52, OS, 87, 124, 204.
Salmon fishing, 00.
Shields, 153,
Shoshoni, 207.
Skidi war woman, 104.
Sledges, 150.

Smoking, 31, 45, 101, 202, 209.
Spirits, 190.
Stars, 204, 210.
Stick game, 5, 21.
Stone implements, 143.
Subsistence, 48.
Sun, 204, 215.
Sweat lodge, 3, 5.

Tliree Suns, 12,30,82.
Thunder, 204.
Thunder bird, 109.
Thunder pipe, 170.
Tipi, 145.

Tirawa, 184, 202 tt stq.
Traps for game, 57.
Travois, 150.

Under-water people, 106.
Utensils, 143 et seq.

War parties, 88 tt stq.

Weaving, 155.

Wlicel game, 21.

White Bear, 177.

Wliite men, first meeting, 224.

Wife, 40.

Windmaker, 173.

Wolf Calf, 232,

Woman changed to rock, 69.

Woman's position, 40, 244.

Women, daily life of, 0.

THE END.

n. AF'PLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

THE AN THKOPOLOr.ICAL SERIES.

"Will be haik'd with dcli.;ht by scholars and scientific fipei ialisis, niid it will be
lacily rocuivcd liy uthcrii who aspire after tli« iisclul kiKiwtcil^c it will iiiip.irt,"- Aiiv
ii'A: //(>;«(• 'youruiil.

NOW READY.

1/f/OMAN'S SHARE IN PRIMiriVK CUL-
^'^ rURE. 15y Otis TriTON Mason, A.M., Curator of the
Department of Kthnology in the United States National Mu-
seum. NVith numerous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75.

" A most interesting >•«/<>//<' of the revelations wliirti science lias madt- ccnctrning
the hahits of human beings in primitive times, and especi.illy as to the place, the duties,
and the customs of women."— /'/r/7«(/('///;/'(» hiijuircr.

" A highly cntertaiiiing and instructive hook. . . . I'mf. .Mason's bright, f^nccfiil
style must do much to awaken a lively interest in a study that has hcictol.nc received
such scant attention." — lUiltimoye Aiiut uan.

"The special charm of Mr. Mason's book is tl'at his studies ,ire liascd mainly upon
ctually existing types, rather than upon mere tradition." I hiauififliia liim-s.

n^HE PYGMIES. By A. de Quatrf.fagks, late

•'■ Professor of Anthropology at the Museum of Natural History,
Paris. With numerous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75.

" Proh.iMy no one was better e(iuipped to illtistr.ite the Keneral sul jcct than Quatre-
fages. While constantly occupied upon the anatomical and osseous ph.iscs of his sub-
ject, he was none the less well acquainted with what literature and history had to say
concerninR the pygmies. . . . This book oui;ht to he in every divinity school in which
man as well as God is studied, and from which missionaries go out to convert the human
being of reality and not the man of rhetoric and text-books."— y^'i-/!';/ Literary H'or.'U.

" It is fortunate that American students of anthropology are ;ible to enjoy as lumi-
nous a translation of this notable monograph as that which i'rof Starr now submits to the
public." — Pliiliuielphia Press.

" It is regarded by scholars entitled to offer an opinion as one of the hnlf-dozenmost
important works of an anthropologist whose ethnographic publications numbered nearly
one hundred." — Chicago Evening i ost,

'J^HE BEGINNINGS OF WRITING. By W. J.
-* Hoffman, M. D. With numerous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth,

$1.75.
This interesting book gives a most attractive account of the rude methods employed
by primitive man Sir recording his deeJs. The earliest writing consists of pictographs
which were traced on stone, wood, bone, skins, and various paperiike substances. Dr.
Hoffman shows how the st^veral classes of symbols used in these records are to b.f in-
terpreted, and traces the growth of conventional signs up to syllabaries and alphal^fa—
Jie two classes of signs employed by modern peoples.

IN PREPARATION.

TfJE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS. I3y Dr. ScilMELT?

THE ZUf^I. By Frank Hamilton Gushing.

THE AZTECS. IJy Mrs. Zelia Nuttall.

New York : D. APPLKTON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

I^U!

THE LIBRARY OF USEFUL STORIES.

Messrs, D. Appletoii tV- Co. have the pleasure of aniiountin}; a series of
Utile books dealinjj with various brandies ot knowleii^^e, and Ireatinj; earh
subject in clear, concise lartt;ua.;e, as free as po-sible from technical words
and [ihroses.

The volumes will be the work of writers of authority in their various
spheres, who will not sacrifice accuracy to mere picture que treatment or
irrelevant fancies, but endeavor to present the leadinjj facts of science, his-
tory, etc., in an interesting form, and with that strict repard to the latest
results of investi.jation which is necessary to K've value to the series.

Kach book will be complete in itself. Illustrations will be introfluced
whenever needed ff)r the just comprehension of the subject treated, and every
care will be bestowed on the qualities of paper, printing;, and binding.

The price will be forty cents per volume.

NOW READY.

HE STORY OF THE STARS. By G. F. Cham-

UKRS, F'. R. A. S., author of "Handbook of Descriptive and

Practical Astronomy," etc. With 24 Illustrations.

** Such books as these will do more to extend the knowledge of naturn! science
among the people th.iii any number of more clatjoraie treatises."— C'///c/«//fi// I rihune.

" An astoiiisl ling amount of information is compacted in this little volume,"— /'A//-
adelphia Press.

Y^HE STORY OF PRIMITIVE MAN. By Ed-

•* WARD Clodd, author of " The Story of Creation," etc.

"This volume presents t'le results of the latest investigations into the early history
of the human race. 1 he value of an up-to-date summary like this is especially marked
in view of the interest of the subject. It is written in clear, Ci'ncise language, as free
as possible from technical words and phrases. The author is a recognized authority,
and his lucid text is accompanied by a large number of attractive illustrations.

HE STORY OF THE PLANTS. By Grant

Allen, author of " Flowers and their Pedigrees," etc.

" As fascinating in style as a first cl.iss -tory ot fiction, and is a simple and clear
exposition of plant life."— Boston Home Juurnal,

IN PREPARATION.

^HE STORY OF THE EARTH. By H. G. See-
J. LEY, F. R. S., Professor of Geography in King's College, London.
With Illustrations.

HE STORY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. By
G. F. Chambers, F.R.A. S.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

D. APPl.nTON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

le and clear

JOHN nACH MC MASTER.

I STORY OF THE PEOrr.E

OF THE UXITED STATES,

from the Rcvoliitioii to the Civil

War. Hy John Hacii McMasticr.

To be comiilctod in six volumos.

Vols. I, 11, III, and IV now ready.

8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $2.50 each.

"... Ppif McMastcr hnn tnl<l ii» what no (ither
historiaiirt have loM. . . . The skill, the niiimaiion, ilic
bri^litiioss, the force, and tlic cli:irm witli which he ar-
niys the f.icts bcfire iis are siu'h_ that we tan hiirdly
C'inicive i>f more iiitirestinn readinj; for an Aiiierii an
citizen who care . to know tlic n.itiire of those causes
whic'n have made not oidy liim but hi.s environment
and the op|iortimitics life has (;tven him what they are."
— A'. 1'. Jiiiics.

"Those who can read b'-twecn the lines mny discover in these p.iRes constant
evidences of care ami skill and faithful labor, of which the old time superticial essay-
ists, cumpilin:; lilirury not<'s on da'.cs and striking events, had no conception; hut
to the jjeiicrai re idcr the lliient narrative gives no hint of the conscirntions labors,
far-reai'iiini;, world-widi-, vast and yet microscopically niinnie, that give the strength
and value which are felt rather than seen. 'I'his is due 10 the art of prtscntaiion.
The author's position as a scientific workman we may accept- on the .-loundant tes-
tiinony of the expeits who kii )w the solid worth oi his work : his skill as a literary
artist we can all appreciate, the charm of his style being self-evident." — I hiladiuphia
TeU'giiipli.

■"The third volume contains the brilliantly written and fascin.-iting stnry of the prog,
rcss and doings of the people of this country from the era of the Louisiana purchase
to the opening scenes of the second war with Great Uritain — say a period of ten years.
In every page of the bo.)k the reader finds that fascinating flow of narrative, that
clear and liii-id style, and that penetrating power of thought and judgment whicli dis-
tinguished the previous volumes." — Columbus State yourual,

"Prof, McMastcr has more than fulfilled the promises made in his first volumes,
and his work is constantly growing better and more valuable as he brings it nearer
to our own time. His style is clear, simple, and idiomatic, and there is just enough
uf the critical spirit in the narrative to guide the reader."— /yM/f^w Herald,

"Take it all in all, the History promises to be the ideal American history. Not so
much given to dates and battles and great events as in the fact that it is like a great
panorama of the people, ravealin? their inner life and action. It contains, with all its
sober facts, the spice of personalities and incidents, which relieves every page from
dullness."— iCV</c-rt^() Inter'Ocean.

" History written in this picturesque style will tempt the most heedless to read.
Prof. McMaster is more than a stylist; he is a student, and his Uistoiy abounds in
evidences of reseatch m quarters not before discovered by the historian." — Chicago
Tribune.

" A History sui generis which has made and will keep its own place in our litera-
ture."— A'^tt/; York Evening Post,

"His style is vigorous and his treatment candid and impartial."— AVw Y'orh
Tribune.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

If !"

I'l.-i

I-

3iB

■:; 1

11;

D. AHf'LLTON & CO.'S HUHl.ICA TIONS.

^ICriML AFRICA ; or, The Coming Continent, A
■* Tour of I'.xploralion. Hy I-KANK V'lNtKM', author of "Tlic

Land of tlic Whit'- Klcphaiu," etc. With Map and iu2 Illu>-

tiulions. 8vo. Cloth, $5.(m>.

Tiiis t'lo oir^h and comprehensive work furnishes a survey of the entire continent,
will' li tlli^ ex))' ri(.Mii.cu tr.ivdcr has i iicuinn.ivi^aiKi in aiUlilutn to his inland c\pluiit>
ti iiiH. The hitter liave included journeys in iiotthL-in Alrica, Madauascar, sontiit-rn
Mill n, and an expoihtiin into the C 'unt(o counivy whirh haH rovcrcd fre^h t;Miind. Miii
b If) , has the (Hstiru tiun of (ircscntini; .1 i oniprchrnsive siniMiiary, instead ot ofTcrinK .in
accou It (>r one special disiri'.:!. It is niorcr clalxiratcly iMiistraied than any book upun
the tiibjcct, ailil Contains a lar^c map catcfidly correc tid to ilate.

" Mr. h'ratik Nincent'!! books of travel ineiit to bo ranked atiionp the very best, not
on'y for their thoroughness, hut for the aniniaiion of tli''ir narrative, and the skill
with which he fastens upon Ids reader's innid the impression made upon him by hii
voyaninns." — liostoH Satiini<iy l\T,niii^ l$ii^-:tii\

" A new voliimi: from Mr. Krank Vincent is always woKonie, for the reading public
have learned to fi'tjard him as on« of the most intelligent And uhserving ot traveler*,"—
I^eiv York Tpibufii.

ROUND AND ABOUT SOUTJf AMERICA:

Twenty Months of Quest and Quriy. lly Ffa.nk Vinxent.

With Maps, Plans, and 54 full-paj^e Illustrations. 8vo, xxiv +

473 P'igt-'s. Ornamental cloth, $5.00.

" South America, with its civilization, its resources, and its charms, is beinj; con-
stantly introduced to us, and as i:oiis!antly surprises us. . , . Thr Parisian who thinks
IIS nil barbarians is probably not denser in his prejudices than most of us are about our
Southern continent. We are content not to know, there seeming to he no reason why
we should. Fashion has not yet directed her steps there, and there has been nothing
to stir us out of our lethariiy . . . Mr. Vincent observes very carefully, is always
good-humored, and ^ivcs us the best of what he sees. . . . The reader of his book will
gain a clear idea of a marvelous country. Maps- and illustrations add greatly to the
value of this work." — Xeiv \'ork Comiiiercitil Aiivertiicr.

"The author's style is unusually simple and straightforward, the printing is re-
m;irkably accurate, and the furty-od.l illustrations are reftcshingly original for the most
part." — rite Nation.

"Mr. Vincent has siicceeiled in civing a most interesting arid valuable narrative.
His account is made doiib'y valuable by the exceptionally good i'lusirations, most of
them photographic reproductions. The printing of both text and plates is beyond
criticism." — Philadelphia I uluic Ledger.

N AND OUT OF CENTRAL AMERICA ; and

other Sketches and Studies of Travel. By Frank ViNCtNT.
With Maps and Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $2.00.

" Few living travelers have had a literary success equal to Mr. Vincent's."—
Har/ief's li'eekly.

" Mr. Vincent has now <;een all the most interesting parts of the world, having
traveled, during a total period of eleven years, two hundred and sixty-five thousand
miles. His personal knowledge of man and Nature is probably as varied and complete
as that of any person living " — .\'ew York tiome yournal.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

ONS^

^'ontincni. A
ullior of "'I'lic
I and 1U2 lUus-

le entire continent,
lii> inland cxpltiiu-
ila>;ascar, soutiiern
fre-li j;r<)imil. IIIh
stead ot oflorinn an
tmn any buok upon

J the very best, not
itivc, and the sikill
le npiiii liim by his

r the rcadinn public
'iny ot travelers."—

AMERICA :

RANK ViNX'ENT.

IS. 8vo, xxiv +

arms, is being con-
l'ari>ian who thinks
of us are about our
:o be no reason why
re has been nothing
arcfiilly, is always
ider of his book will
s add greatly to the

the printine is re-
jriginal for the most

! valuable narrative.
•lustrations, most of
id plates is beyond

^R/CA ; and

RANK VlNCKNT.

>2.00.

I Mr. Vincent's."—

f the world, having

sixty-five thousand

varied and complete

\i Avenue.