USA > Oregon > The Oregon trail : sketches of prairie and Rocky Mountain life > Part 13
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A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. Parties of two or three or more would ride up and silently seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen suddenly appeared into 5 view on the summit of the neighboring ridge. They descended, and behind them followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste and disorder down the hill and over the plain below; horses, mules, and dogs, heavily burdened travaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, Io and a host of children. For a full half-hour they continued to pour down; and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, as if by magic, 150 tall lodges sprung up. On a sudden the lonely plain was trans- 15 formed into the site of a miniature city. Countless horses were soon grazing over the meadows around us, and the whole prairie was animated by restless figures careering on horseback, or sedately stalking in their long white robes. The Whirlwind was come at last ! One question yet re- 20 mained to be answered: "Will he go to the war, in order that we, with so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhat perilous rendezvous at La Bonté's camp ?" Still this remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large 25 bodies. Though their object be of the highest importance, they cannot combine to attain it by a series of connected efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumsehº all felt this to their cost. The Ogallallahs once had a war chief who could control them; but he was dead, and now they were 30 left to the sway of their own unsteady impulses.
This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a promi- nent place in the rest of the narrative, and perhaps it may not be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage people of which they form a part. The Dahcotahs (I prefer 35 this national designation to the unmeaning French name, Sioux) range over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky mountains themselves. They are divided into several independent bands, united under no central government, and acknowledge no common head. The 40 same language, usages, and superstitions form the sole bond between them. They do not unite even in their wars.
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The bands of the east fight the Ojibwas on the Upper lakes; those of the west make incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky mountains. As the whole people is divided into bands, so each band is divided into villages. Each village has a chief, who is honored and obeyed only so 5 far as his personal qualities may command respect and fear. Sometimes he is a mere nominal chief; sometimes his authority is little short of absolute, and his fame and in- fluence reach even beyond his own village; so that the whole band to which he belongs is ready to acknowledge Ic him as their head. This was, a few years since, the case with the Ogallallahs. Courage, address, and enterprise may raise any warrior to the highest honor, especially if he be the son of a former chief, or a member of a numerous family, to support him and avenge his quarrels; but when he has 15 reached the dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, let it not be imagined that he assumes any of the outward semblances of rank and honor. He knows too well on how frail a tenure he holds his station. He must conciliate 20 his uncertain subjects. Many a man in the village lives better, owns more squaws and more horses, and goes better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he ingratiates himself with his young men by making them presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. Does he fail in gain- 25 ing their favor, they will set his authority at naught, and may desert him at any moment; for the usages of his people have provided no sanctions by which he may enforce his authority. Very seldom does it happen, at least among these western bands, that a chief attains too much power, 30 unless he is the head of a numerous family. Frequently the village is principally made up of his relatives and de- scendants, and the wandering community assumes much of the patriarchal character. A people so loosely united, torn, too, with rankling feuds and jealousies, can have 35 little power or efficiency.
The western Dahcotahs have no fixed habitations. Hunt- ing and fighting, they wander incessantly through sum- mer and winter. Some are following the herds of buffalo over the waste of prairie; others are traversing the Black 40 hills, thronging on horseback and on foot through the
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dark gulfs and somber gorges beneath the vast splintering precipices, and emerging at last upon the parks, those beautiful but most perilous hunting grounds. The buffalo supplies them with almost all the necessaries of life; with 5 habitations, food, clothing, and fuel; with strings for their bows, with thread, cordage, and trail-ropes for their horses, with coverings for their saddles, with vessels to hold water, with boats to cross streams, with glue, and with the means of purchasing all that they desire from the Io traders. When the buffalo are extinct, they too must dwindłe away.
War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of the neighboring tribes they cherish a deadly, rancorous hatred, transmitted from father to son, and inflamed by constant 15 aggression and retaliation. Many times a year, in every village, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are made, the war parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by hand- fuls at a time against the enemy. This fierce and evil spirit awakens their most eager aspirations, and calls forth 20 their greatest energies. It is chiefly this that saves them from lethargy and utter abasement. Without its power- ful stimulus they would be like the unwarlike tribes be- yond the mountains, who are scattered among the caves and rocks like beasts, living on roots and reptiles. These 25 latter have little of humanity except the form; but the proud and ambitious Dahcotah warrior can sometimes boast of heroic virtues. It is very seldom that distinction and influence are attained among them by any other course than that of arms. Their superstition, however, some- 3º times gives great power to those among them who pretend to the character of magicians. Their wild hearts, too, can feel the power of oratory, and yield deference to the masters of it.
But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can 35 bear the stifling smoke and the close atmosphere. There, wedged close together, you will see a circle of stout war- riors, passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and making themselves merry, after their fashion. We were also infested by little copper-colored naked boys and snake- 40 eyed girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain words, which being interpreted conveyed the concise in-
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vitation, "Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitality, which allowed scarcely an hour of rest between sun and sun, and to which we were bound to do honor, unless we would offend our entertainers. This necessity was particularly burden- 5 some to me, as I was scarcely able to walk, from the effects of illness, and was of course poorly qualified to dispose of twenty meals a day. Of these sumptuous banquets I gave a specimen in a former chapter, where the tragical fate of the little dog was chronicled. So bounteous an Ic entertainment looks like an outgushing of good will; but doubtless one-half at least of our kind hosts, had they met us alone and unarmed on the prairie, would have robbed us of our horses, and perchance have bestowed an arrow upon us beside. Trust not an Indian. Let your rifle be 15 ever. in your hand. Wear next your heart the old chivalric motto, Semper Paratus. always
One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an old man, in good truth the Nestor of his tribe. We found him half sitting, half reclining on a pile of buffalo robes; his 20 long hair, jet-black even now, though he had seen some eighty winters, hung on either side of his thin features. Those most conversant with Indians in their homes will scarcely believe me when I affirm that there was dignity in his countenance and mien. His gaunt but symmetrical 25 frame, did not more clearly exhibit the wreck of bygone strength, than did his dark, wasted features, still promi- nent and commanding, bear the stamp of mental energies. I recalled, as I saw him, the eloquent metaphor of the Iroquois sachem: "I am an aged hemlock; the winds of 30 a hundred winters have whistled through my branches, and I am dead at the top !" Opposite the patriarch was his nephew, the young aspirant Mahto-Tatonka; and besides these, there were one or two women in the lodge.
The old man's story is peculiar, and singularly illus- 35 trative of a superstitious custom that prevails in full force among many of the Indian tribes. He was one of a power- ful family, renowned for their warlike exploits. When a very young man, he submitted to the singular rite to which most of the tribe subject themselves before entering 40 upon life. He painted his face black; then seeking out
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a cavern in a sequestered part of the Black hills, he lay for several days, fasting and praying to the Great Spirit. In the dreams and visions produced by his weakened and ex- cited state, he fancied, like all Indians, that he saw super- 5 natural revelations. Again and again, the form of an ante- lope appeared before him. The antelope is the graceful peace spirit of the Ogallallahs; but seldom is it that such a gentle visitor presents itself during the initiatory fasts of their young men. The terrible grizzly bear, the divinity Io of war, usually appears to fire them with martial ardor and thirst for renown. At length the antelope spoke. He told the young dreamer that he was not to follow the path of war; that a life of peace and tranquillity was marked out for him; that henceforward he was to guide the people 15 by his counsels and protect them from the evils of their own feuds and dissensions. Others were to gain renown by fighting the enemy; but greatness of a different kind was in store for himn.
The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually 20 determine the whole course of the dreamer's life, for an Indian is bound by iron superstitions. From that time, Le Borgne," which was the only name by which we knew h.m, abandoned all thoughts of war and devoted himself to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the people. 25 They honored his commission and respected him in his novel capacity.
A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Tatonka, who had transmitted his names, his features, and inany of his characteristic qualities, to his son. He was the father 30 of Henry Chatillon's squaw, a circumstance which proved of some advantage to us, as securing for us the friendship of a family perhaps the most distinguished and powerful in the whole Ogallallah band. Mahto-Tatonka, in his rude way, was a hero. No chief could vie with him in 35 warlike renown, or in power over his people. He had a fearless spirit, and a most impetuous and inflexible resolu- tion. His will was law. He was politic and sagacious, and with true Indian craft he always befriended the whites, well knowing that he might thus reap great advantages 40 for himself and his adherents. When he had resolved on any course of conduct, he would pay to the warriors the
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empty compliment of calling them together to deliberate upon it, and when their debates were over, he would quietly state his own opinion, which no one ever disputed. The consequences of thwarting his imperious will were too formidable to be encountered. Woe to those who incurred 5 his displeasure! He would strike them or stab them on the spot; and this act, which, if attempted by any other chief, would instantly have cost him his life, the awe in- spired by his name enabled him to repeat again and again with impunity. In a community where, from immemorial Io time, no man has acknowledged any law but his own will, Mahto-Tatonka, by the force of his dauntless resolution, raised himself to power little short of despotic. His haughty career came at last to an end. He had a host of enemies only waiting for their opportunity of revenge, and our old 15 friend Smoke, in particular, together with all his kinsmen, hated him most cordially. Smoke sat one day in his lodge in the midst of his own village, when Mahto-Tatonka en- tered it alone, and approaching the dwelling of his enemy, called on him in a loud voice to come out, if he were a 20 man, and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, Mahto- Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old woman, and striding close to the entrance of the lodge, stabbed the chief's best horse, which was picketed there. Smoke was daunted, and even this insult failed to call him forth. Mahto-Tatonka 25 moved haughtily away; all made way for him, but his hour of reckoning was near.
One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of Smoke's kinsmen were gathered around some of the fur company's men, who were trading in various articles with 30 them, whisky among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka was also there with a few of his people. As he lay in his own lodge, a fray arose between his adherents and the kinsmen of his enemy. The war-whoop was raised, bullets and arrows began to fly, and the camp was in confusion. The chief 35 sprang up, and rushing in a fury from the lodge shouted to the combatants on both sides to cease. Instantly - for the attack was preconcerted - came the reports of two or three guns, and the twanging of a dozen bows, and the savage hero, mortally wounded, pitched forward headlong 40 to the ground. Rouleau was present, and told me the par-
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ticulars. The tumult became general, and was not quelled until several had fallen on both sides. When we were in the country the feud between the two families was still rankling, and not likely soon to cease.
5 Thus died Mahto-Tatonka, but he left behind him a goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his renown and avenge his fate. Besides daughters he had thirty sons, a number which need not stagger the credulity of those who are best acquainted with Indian usages and practices. Io We saw many of them, all marked by the same dark com- plexion and the same peculiar cast of features. Of these our visitor, young Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some reported him as likely to succeed to his father's honors. Though he appeared not more than twenty-one years old, 15 he had oftener struck the enemy, and stolen more horses and more squaws than any young man in the village. We of the civilized world are not apt to attach much credit to the latter species of exploits; but horse-stealing is well known as an avenue to distinction on the prairies, and the 20 other kind of depredation is esteemed equally meritorious. Not that the act can confer fame from its own intrinsic merits. Any one can steal a squaw, and if he chooses afterward to make an adequate present to her rightful proprietor, the casy husband for the most part rests con- 25 tent, his vengeance falls asleep, and all danger from that quarter is averted. Yet this is esteemed but a pitiful and mean-spirited transaction. The danger is averted, but the glory of the achievement also is lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded after a more gallant and dashing fashion. Out 30 of several dozen squaws whom he had stolen, he could boast that he had never paid for one, but snapping his fingers in the face of the injured husband, had defied the extremity of his indignation, and no one vet had dared to lay the finger of violence upon him. He was following 35 close in the footsteps of his father. The young men and the young squaws, each in their way, admired him. The one would always follow him to war, and he was esteemed to have an unrivaled charm in the eyes of the other. Per- haps his impunity may excite some wonder. An arrow 40 shot from a ravine, a stab given in the dark, require no great valor, and are especially suited to the Indian genius;
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but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong protection. It was not alone his courage and audacious will that enabled him to career so dashingly among his compeers. His enemies did not forget that he was one of thirty warlike brethren, all growing up to manhood. Should they wreak their anger 5 upon him, many keen eyes would be ever upon them, many fierce hearts would 'thirst for their blood, The avenger would dog their footsteps everywhere. To kill Mahto- Tatonka would be an act of suicide.
Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he Ic was no dandy .. As among us those of highest worth and breeding are most simple in manner and attire, so our aspiring young friend was indifferent to the gaudy trappings and ornaments of his companions. He was content to rest his chances of success upon his own warlike merits. He 15 never arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering neck- laces, but left his statue-like form, limbed like an Apollo of bronze, to win its way to favor. His voice was singularly
deep and strong. It sounded from his chest like the deep notes of, an organ. Yet after all, he was but an Indian. 20 See him as he lies there in the sun before our tent, kicking his heels in the air and cracking jokes with his brother. Does he look like a hero ? See him now in the hour of his glory, when at sunset the whole village empties itself to behold him, for to-morrow their favorite young partisan 25 goes out against the enemy. His superb headdress is adorned with a crest of the war eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge above his brow, and sweeping far behind him. His round white shield hangs at his breast, with feathers radiating from the center like a star. His quiver is at his 30 back; his tall lance in his hand, the iron point flashing against the declining sun, while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a cham- pion in his panoply, he rides round and round within the great circle of lodges, balancing with a graceful buoyancy 35 to the free movements of his war horse, while with a sedate brow he sings his song to the Great Spirit. Young rival warriors look askance at him; vermilion-cheeked girls gaze in admiration, boys whoop and scream in a thrill of delight, and old women yell forth his name and proclaim 4℃ his praises from lodge to lodge.
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Mahto-Tatonka, to come back to him, was the best of all our Indian friends. Hour after hour and day after day, when swarms of savages of every age, sex, and degree beset our camp, he would lie in our tent, his lynx eye ever 5 open to guard our property from pillage.
The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The feast was finished, and the pipe began to circulate. It was a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed my ad- miration of its form and dimensions.
IO " If the Mencaskaº likes the pipe," asked The Whirlwind, "why does he not keep it ?"
Such a pipe among the Ogallallahs is valued at the price of a horse. A princely gift, thinks the reader, and worthy of a chieftain and a warrior. The Whirlwind's generosity 15 rose to no such pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently expecting that I in return should make him a present of equal or superior value. This is the implied condition of every gift among the Indians as among the Orientals, and should it not be complied with the present is usually re- 20 claimed by the giver. So I arranged upon a gaudy calico handkerchief, an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, and gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, assured him of my friendship and begged his acceptance of a slight token of it. Ejaculating ."How ! how !" he folded up the 25 offerings and withdrew to his lodge.
Several days passed and we and the Indians remained encamped side by side. They could not decide whether or not to go to the war. Toward evening, scores of them would surround our tent, a picturesque group. Late one 30 afternoon a party of them mounted on horseback came suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of bushes that lined the bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on whose back was a wretched negro, sustained in his seat only by the high pomnel and cantle of the Indian saddle. 35 His cheeks were withered and shrunken in the hollow of his jaws; his eyes were unnaturally dilated, and his lips seemed shriveled and drawn back from his teeth like those of a corpse. When they brought him up before our tent, and lifted him from the saddle, he could not walk or stand, 40 but he crawled a short distance, and with a look of utter misery sat down on the grass. All the children and women
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came pouring out of the lodges round us, and with screams and cries made a close circle about him, while he sat support- ing himself with his hands, and looking from side to side with a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to death ! For thirty-three days he had wandered alone on the prairie, 5 without weapon of any kind; without shoes, moccasins, or any other clothing than an old jacket and pantaloons; without intelligence and skill to guide his course, or any knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All this time he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, wild onions, and 10 three eggs which he found in the nest of a prairie dove.
He had not seen a human being. Utterly bewildered in the boundless, hopeless desert that stretched around him, offering to his inexperienced eye no mark by which to direct his course, he had walked on in despair till he could walk 15 no longer, and then crawled on his knees until the bone was laid bare. He chose the night for his traveling, lying down by day to sleep in the glaring sun, always dreaming, as he said, of the broth and corn cake he used to eat under his old master's shed in Missouri. Every man in the camp, both 20 white and red, was astonished at his wonderful escape not only from starvation but from the grizzly bears which abound in that neighborhood, and the wolves which howled around him every night.
Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought 25 him in. He had run away from his master about a year before and joined the party of M. Richard, who was then leaving the frontier for the mountains. He had lived with Richard ever since, until in the end of May he with Rey- nal and several other men went out in search of some 30 stray horses, when he got separated from the rest in a storm, and had never been heard of up to this time. Know- ing his inexperience and helplessness, no one dreamed that he could still be living. The Indians had found him lying exhausted on the ground. 35
As he sat there with the Indians gazing silently on him, his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to look upon. Deslauriers made him a bowl of gruel, but he suffered it to remain untasted before him. At length he languidly raised the spoon to his lips; again he did so, and again; 40 and then his appetite seemed suddenly inflamed into mad-
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ness, for he seized the bowl, swallowed all its contents in a few seconds, and eagerly demanded meat. This we refused, telling him to wait until morning, but he begged so eagerly that we gave him a small piece, which he devoured, tearing 5 it like a dog. He said he must have more. We told him that his life was in danger if he ate so immoderately at first. He assented, and said he knew he was a fool to do so, but he must have meat. This we absolutely refused, to the great indignation of the senseless squaws, who, when we were Io not watching him, would slyly bring dried meat and pommes blanches, and place them on the ground by his side. Still this was not enough for him. When it grew dark he con- trived to creep away between the legs of the horses and crawl over to the Indian village, about a furlong down the stream. 15 Here he fed to his heart's content, and was brought back again in the morning, when Jean Gras, the trapper, put him on horseback and carried him to the fort. He managed to survive the effects of his insane greediness, and though slightly deranged when we left this part of the country, he 20 was otherwise in tolerable health, and expressed his firın conviction that nothing could ever kill him.
When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay scene in the village. The warriors stalked sedately among the lodges, or along the margin of the streams, or walked out to 25 visit the bands of horses that were feeding over the prairie. Half the village population deserted the close and heated lodges and betook themselves to the water; and here you might see boys and girls and young squaws splashing, swimming, and diving beneath the afternoon sun, with 30 merry laughter and screaming. But when the sun was just resting above the broken peaks, and the purple moun- tains threw their prolonged shadows for iniles over the prairie; when our grim old tree, lighted by the horizontal rays, assumed an aspect of peaceful repose, such as one loves 35 after scenes of tumult and excitement; and when the whole landscape of swelling plains and scattered groves was soft- ened into a tranquil beauty, then our encampment presented a striking spectacle. Could Salvator Rosaº have transferred it to his canvas, it would have added new renown to his 40 pencil. Savage figures surrounded our tent, with quivers at their backs, and guns, lances, or tomahawks in their
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