USA > Wisconsin > Vernon County > History of Vernon County, Wisconsin, together with sketches of its towns, villages and townships, educational, civil, military and political history; portraits of prominent persons, and biographies of representative citizens > Part 61
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first time, I really felt that my life was in danger, and had only escaped the assassin by God's good providence in sending this man to save me. Not here and there individuals, but the entire band became my deadly foes because I would not give them my goods on credit, as all former traders had done.
This man, who had so opportunely come to my relief, was of course my guest for the time being. The next morning, about 10 o'clock, he had walked quite a circuit around my house, ex- amining for tracks, in case there should be any one of the band lurking about for mischief ; but finding all safe, he told me I could go and shoot swan. I had never seen this man before; and, on inquiry, my interpreter informed me that he was a half breed, the son of a gentle- man from Montreal, who had been in the trade many years before, named Ance, and had re- tired. I went to my shop, opened some pack- ages and gave him a present, of which he was proud, and was as heavy as he could con- veniently carry. I never saw bim again. This proved to be the hardest winter I ever met with in my journey through life.
Old Wack-haw-en-du-tah, or Red Thunder, was one of the bravest and most universally respected chiefs among all the numerous Sioux bands. What brought him into such high es- teem may be worth noting. An Ottawa Indian, from Lake Michigan, had by some means wandered away from his own country and joined Red Thunder's band, where he re- ceived the kindest hospitality ; but his tribe, in Michigan, were at war with the O-ma-haw Indians, on the Missouri. In their rambling or pleasure seeking during the summer season, though their homes might be widely separated, strange tribes would often come in contact, and have great fun, horse-racing, ball-playing and very many other means of amusement, with which the whites are not familiar.
On the occasion in question, about 200 lodges each of Sioux and O-ma-haws encamped on the great plains within visiting distance of each
other. This happened many years before I saw Red Thunder. It soon became known in the O-ma-haw camp that Red Thunder was harboring one of their enemies, and a party was immediately sent to bring the Ottawa, dead or alive. Red Thunder used every argument in his power to save his protege, but to no purpose. Then taking his gun he said : "Since you will not permit me to keep the Ottawa, you shall not kill him, but I will," and shot him, the same ball accidentally killing a young O-ma- haw who was behind the Ottawa. The O-ma- haws took the two bodies away with them. War was now imminent in consequence of this mishap of Red Thunder's; and, in order to avert the impending outbreak, early the next morning the Sioux chief mounted his horse, and rode alone to the O-ma-haw camp, singing his death song, and with his knife, as he rode among their lodges, cut pieces of flesh from his thighs, and throwing them to the dogs, said : "My friends, I fed my dogs with your flesh yesterday, and am now come to feast your dogs on my poor flesh, in hopes that we may continue brethren." Red Thunder was care- fully taken from his horse, his wounds dressed, and, in time, he was loaded with presents and sent home, thus preserving the harmony of the two war-like tribes.
In 1813 old Red Thunder and part of his band volunteered to go with Col. Diekson against the Americans, and were present at the battle of Fort Meigs, on the Manmee. On his return home he had many marvelous stories to relate, such as the folly of the English soldiers running up to cut down the pickets, and being themselves shot down in the attempt. Another great piece of folly was, in his estimation, "that the English had placed their great big guns- cannons-a long way from the pickets ; and they took little tin kettles, filled them with rifle balls, and put these kettles, one at a time, into the big gun, and fired it off at the clouds, as if they were dueks. I told them" said Red Thunder, "to shoot at the fort; but they
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laughed at me, and I left them in disgust and came home."
Having mentioned and described this old chief, who shared with me the hard winter (of 1809-10) before us, I will proceed in my narra- tive. Old Red Thunder, with two other lodges of his band, after Ance had been gone a few days, arrived and encamped quite close to my house. A few Indians, in this way, generally wintered about the traders' houses. They had no store of provisions, but hoped, as I did, that buffalo meat would abound. Warned by a former year's sufferings, I kept in store five or six bushels of corn. 1 and the Red Thunder's boys killed more of the wild fowl than fed 11s all for awhile. But the marshes were soon frozen over, and that supply was ent off. There were no wolves or small game of any kind in this part of the country ; so Red Thunder's people were soon reduced to subsist on the old buffalo hides they had used to sleep upon, perhaps for years.
Under these circumstances, common humanity induced me to share my corn with them, which was becoming daily reduced. In the meantime I, with my men and the Indian boys were con- stantly roaming about, in hopes of finding some- thing we could convert into meat. One day one of the men found the head of an old buf- falo, which some of his race had lost last sum- mer, and with difficulty brought it home. We all rejoiced, in our straitened circumstances, at this piece of good luck. The big tin kettle was soon filled and boiling, with a view of softening it and seraping off the hair ; but boiling water and ashes would not stir a hair. We then dried it, in hopes we might burn the hair off; but in vain. We felt sadly disappointed, as we were on short rations, our corn supply drawing near an end.
In this dilemma, Mrs. Red Thunder, almost in despair, took her ax, and started in quest of bitter sweet, or wild ivy; and succeeded in bringing home all she could carry, and re- ported that there was plenty more. This vine
is readily prepared for food. It is cut into chunks from one to three inches long, and boiled until the coarse, thin bark easily sepa- rates itself from the stem. The bark then makes at least three fourths of the original quantity ; it is spongy, and of a bitter sweet taste. It is quite nutrious; and though one might not fatten on it, still it would preserve life for a long time.
I now took three of the men, and started in the direction the buffaloes usually, in mild win- ters, travel. We followed the river, and within four or five miles, we discovered a buffalo. Two of the men, being old hunters, said at once, "That's a scabby old fellow, not worth shooting." However, as he was not far off, I said I would try my hand at him. So, taking advantage of the wind, and skulking through the tall grass, his time was come. Crack ! went my rifle, and he was down and well out of misery. On ex- amination, it was found that his back and the upper part of his sides were a mass of seabs and blood, where the magpies and other carniv- erous birds had pecked and fed, as they do when these animals become too old and feeble to defend themselves.
Proceeding on our journey, we came to a hole in the ground made by an otter, around which he had deposited ever so many poly-wogs, of which it would have been unkind to have deprived him of his food supply. We soon after came upon the tracks of a ground-hog, and soon found his cave. We then went to work to exhume the body, for purposes well known to hungry people in these parts.
As we neared the end of our day's journey- a dreadfully cold day it was-one of the hunters called my attention to a black spot on the hill- side, fully a mile beyond our intended camping place. Ile thought it was a buffalo, and said, "Let's go and see." So I sent the other two men to prepare our night's lodging, while St. Maurice, the best hunter, and I started off with the murderous intent of bagging a big game. We availed ourselves of every means of avoid-
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ing observation by our intended vietim, so we might get within a safe shot of the apparently sleeping buffalo. Atlength we reached a little hil- lock, within twenty yards of what we regarded as more meat than we could carry home. Putting in fresh priming, St. Maurice whispered, "I'll fire as he rises, and you reserve your charge for use in case he runs at us." "All right," said 1; and St. Maurice, not to cause too much excitement in the poor buffalo, whom he regarded as about drawing his last breath, gave a gentle whistle, but no movement; he whistled louder and louder, then gave a yell, but still he stirred not. We then went up to him ; he was dead, but not quite stiff.
We managed to take his tongue and heart to our camp, which was in some old trader's winter- ing house. The ground-hog was ready for supper and before bed-time, was nearly all gone. The tongue and heart were nicely cut up, and washed, ready for carly cooking in the morning. Whether ground-hog meat acted as an opiate or not, I cannot say ; but this I know, we all slept later than we intended, and the wonder was, that some of us were not frozen, for it was bitter cold, and our bedding consisted only of each man's blanket, which it was his privilege to carry, with extra moccasins, etc., on his back, when not otherwise in use.
When I turned out in the morning, the cook had got up a rousing fire, and the tongue-the most dainty part of the buffalo-and a part of the heart, were in the kettle, ready to hang on the fire.
Of course I had no washing tools at hand; pants and socks were found where I left them when I retired to rest-that is, on my legs and feet. A very slight rub of snow on the hands and eyes finished my toilet for the expected de- licious repast. "Which will you have, sir, tongue or heart?" This directed my eyes to the kettle, boiling over with a black bloody froth, with a sickening, putrid smell. I bolted out of the house, leaving the men to smack
their lips on heart and tongue, while I took the remnant of the ground-hog to the open air.
Breakfast over, it was concluded that the non-hunter and St. Maurice should strike out on the plains, while Beaubien, an old hunter, and I should go up the river, all parties to meet at a certain point. When I had reached the place indicated, I cast my eyes around to see if the others were coming, and I noted instead a pair of frightful, infuriated monster eyes- a buffalo of the scabby kind, lying half way up the bank of the stream; his breath had turned to white frost, enveloping his body, so that not a particle of him was visible save his eyes, which were greatly dilated, and apparently bent on mischief. I jumped up on the opposite bank and took my stand behind a tree. In those days I was a good shot. I took deliberate aim and hit him in the temple. He did not appear to feel it. I fired four shots, which brought St. Maurice, and to my delight, a strange Indian with him. I now advanced to old scabby, and hit him to no purpose; one more shot, placing the muzzle of my gun to his ear, gave him mo- tion, for he shook his head, and rolled down the bank dead.
The strange Indian was one of a band, about four days' journey distant, in the buffalo range. The chief's name was Whoo-way-hur, or Broken Leg. I had never before seen him. He was chief of Les Gens des Perches band; and his fame for bravery and love for the whites was known far and near. IIe had come all that dis- tance with peltry to buy a few trifling articles, worth, in fact, a dollar, perhaps; but to him of more valne than the most costly dinner set.
I with my party went home, and my customer, of course, with us. Less than half a peck measure would now hold all the corn I had to depend on; and it was worth more to me than the same measure of golden eagles. I knew the perils of long journeys through the prairies in the winter season, I, therefore, asked all my men if any of them would go with our visitor to get some meat. They would all volunteer; but I
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said two must remain with me, and four go-to settle among themselves who should go and who should remain. They carried some goods to pay for the meat, and two quarts of corn were roasted and pounded for their journey.
Before daylight the next morning they were on their way, and were to be back in nine long, anxious days. The Yankton band, to which Ance belonged, had left in Red Thunder's charge a horse with a dis- located shoulder, and could not recover. The corn was all now but gone; the bitter sweet within a reasonable distance had been devoured, and I brought to poverty and to my wit's end; and yet four days before the men could return.
Hard is the task my poverty compels, To get my living amid savage yells.
I sent for Red Thunder to consult about our future. His only hope, however, lay in the chance of the coming of the buffalo; but I was not of his way of thinking, and suggested the killing of the horse. But he said no-he dared not, for the Yankton would be very angry. Before I was up the next morning, however, Red Thunder came thumping at my door and calling at the top of his voice, my Sioux name-"Wee- yo-te-huh! (The Meridian Sun) the horse is dead." The old chap had stuck the horse, and when I got to the spot, he had skinned the ani- mal's head and part of the neck; and parts of it were soon stuck on sticks roasting, and parts being made into broth in the Indian lodges. I got for my part a piece of the upper portion of the neck; it was eatable, but, in truth, I would have preferred roast lamb. My Indian friends kept cooking and eating without relaxation, night or day, until the old horse, save hoofs and bones, had been consumed.
The nine days for the men's return had passed, and they came not. On the eleventh day I went six or eight miles, in hopes to meet them, but returned disappointed and grieved. When within a mile of the house, about dusk, I met with one of those scabby buffaloes
and managed to end his misery; and reporting my success to Red Thunder, his In- dian friends, with knives, tomahawks and torches, were soon on their way to this lucky God-send, in their estimation. To partake of such meat, I knew I could not. My last pint of corn was being roasted. I had some apprehen- sions that my absent men had been killed, which was the least of my fears; but there was greater danger that they had been lost or buried in the snow-particularly the latter; thoughts of such accidents bad often occurred to my mind. In any case, if they failed to return with supplies, my only alternative was to write an account of matters and things, and make up my last bed.
On the twelfth day of their abscence, I had been straining my eyes with melancholy reflec- tions till about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, when I retired to the house to smother care and anxiety in smoke. I had not long been at the pipe when a general shout of joy was raised at the Indian camps-"The white men are com- ing!" I was not slow to see for myself; and here they came, loaded with dried buffalo meat, and the welcome news that Broken Leg with a lot of his young men would bring ample sup- plies in a few days. This was good news. When, with marks of reproach, I asked them why they had not returned sooner, they told me they had been two and a half days buried in the snow. I could not doubt them, for I was aware that such things happened every winter on these plains.
Not many winters before this, an Indian, with eight white men, saw a storm approaching, and with all haste made for a little clump of trees for shelter. But when within half a mile of the goal, they were compelled by the severity of the storm, to lie down and be covered with the avalanche of snow falling. The wind and drift are so powerful that people cannot face them and breathe. These nine persons remained under snow for three days; and but for the Indian, the whites would all have perished. Ile had been caught before; he kept himself
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raised to near the surface by packing the snow under him, which also kept him in a cooler atmosphere, so the place where he was, continued dry, though warm. He could, moreover, being near the surface, with only a thin layer of snow, over him discern when the storm had abated.
At the end of the third day, he went to the little bush or wood, made on a rousing fire, and cutting a ten foot pole, returned to hunt up and liberate his imprisoned companions. This he accomplished by thrusting the pole at random, until one would seize it, when the Indian would dig him out. Ile found them all dripping wet; and the wind having rendered the snow firm, he packed each one, as he brought him from his cave, to the fire, otherwise they would have soon frozen, coming out of their warm bath into so chilly an atmosphere. For unless a person thus buried scrapes the snow from above, and packs it below or under him, the heat of his body melts the snow, and he finds himself in a pool of water.
As promised, at the end of four days Broken Leg arrived, with ten of his young men, loaded with dried meat, pelican, buffalo's bladders filled with marrow, and a few furs. I paid them well, and all were pleased, except one young fellow, who had a wolf skin to trade; but he wanted four times its value, which I would not give. He then drew his robe about him, and leaning on the counter, as is the Indian habit, with inten- tion of tiring me out. I, however, wrapped myself also in a robe, and laughingly lay down on another robe, when my lad finding he was beaten at his own game, went off in a rage, and I went to trading with the others. Broken Leg :was soon informed that Master Wolf was pre- paring his bow and arrows to shoot me on emerging from the shop. The chief was up instantly, and going from my apartment to the men's room, found Master Wolf ready to bleed me, and took his bow and arrow from him. He then gave him a few thumps over the head, threw his weapons into the fire, and turned him out of the room. On their going away the
next morning, I gave the chief a keg of rum ; and not expecting it, they were all the more delighted. This was the last I saw of this tribe of Les Gens des Perches.
Now we all-Red Thunder *and his people included-lived luxuriously on roast and boiled meat-rather tough and smoky, to be sure, but the best that the country afforded, or money could buy. March was now close at hand ; the wild fowl would then afford me amusement, but first of all I must look after the fur hunters. At length they came, well loaded too, only to stay one night, consequently all of Red Thun- der's, as well as my own, spare rooms and beds were occupied. They paid me amply. I made a splendid trade, gave them two kegs, each con- taining three gallons of high wines and six of water. True, they might have gotten the water at their camp ; but carrying it on their backs twenty-five miles would mix it better. They made a little speech, hoping I would come again ; but my heart might have said : “My face you shall see no more." Pack-making, boat-fixing, bird-shooting, and patiently waiting for the ice to melt out of the streams, were now the objects that occupied my attention.
The Sioux, from about forty miles above the month of the river St. Peter's to its sources, and away over the plains, are, or were then, known as the Upper Sioux, and those below that to Prairie du Chien, the Lower Sionx, and were widely different in their character. The latter were more reasonable, and more easily managed, being less savage. This may, per- haps be attributed to their chiefs having re- peatedly, in the early days of Canada, visited Quebec, and got large presents, parchment
* Lieut. Pike, when on his public mission up the Missis- sippi, in 1805-1806, did what he could to repress the sale of liquor to the Indians. When at Prairie du Chien, in April, 1806, he thus spoke of Red Thunder : "I was sent for by Red Thunder, chief of the Yanktons, the most savage band of the Sioux. He was prepared with the most elegant pipes and robes I ever saw. Shortly after, he declared. · that white blood had never been shed in the village of the Yanktons, even when rum was permitted; that Mr Murdoch Cameron arrived in his village last Autumn ; that he invited him (Cameron) to eat, and gave him corn as a bird ; and that he, Cameron, informed him of the prohibition of rum, and was the only person who afterwards sold it in the vil- lage.'"
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commissions, and silver medals-one side of which was the king's head, and the British coat of arms on the other, presented to them, through the Indian department, from Gen. Haldimand and Lord Dorchester, and other early Canada governors. In those days the Indians were strong, but yet treated the Eng- lish with kindness, and placed full confidence in them. Do we reciprocate their friendship and liberality now that we are strong and they weak ?
Ice gone and boat loaded, good-bye forever to the Yankton band of Sioux Indians, now des- tined to the Mississippi, Prairie du Chien and Mackinaw. While at Mackinaw this year (1810) in passing through Robert Dicksons room one day, I saw several books on his table, among which were two copies of the Bible. Recollect- ing the interest my parents appeared to take in this book, I at once concluded I must have one of them. To ask Mr. Dickson for one would be useless; and my good friend Parson Stuart, the old Mohawk missionary, had so impressed upon my mind that stealing would be a breach of one of the commandments-therefore I dared not take it. My conscience was quieted with the sug- gestion that I could borrow it, which I did, faithfully returning it the next year; but like many other things I have left undone, I did not read it with the attention I should have done.
The remainder of my Indian trading years was spent with the Lower Sionx Indians. One season at Lake St. Croix (1810-11). This year the much-respected Sioux Chief Onk-e-tah En- du-tah, or Red Whale, while spending part of the summer (of 1810) with many of his people at Prairie du Chien, lost his only daughter there. He determined to take her remains up to his village and bury them with those of her relatives-a distance of about 200 miles, and in the burning hot month of August. He placed the corpse in his eanoe and started, two other families following in their respect- ive canoes. When they had accomplished about half their journey on the eighth
day, they reached lake Pepin; he landed, and threw the putrid body into the water, say- ing: "I cannot carry my child's body any far- ther; but her bones must be buried with her mother and sisters. Will any one help me sep- arate the bones from the decayed and deeaying flesh." No one responded. He threw off his covering; and sitting down on the beach, went to work and cleaned the flesh from every bone, throwing the decayed parts into the lake. He then got some grass, tied them up carefully, placed them in his canoe, and renewed his jour- ney. During this operation, as well as occas- ionally when on his route home, he would sing the death song, accompanied with loud wail- ings and tears, producing an indescribable mel- ancholy, and echo from the surrounding hills, well calculated to turn the most joyous heart into mourning.
I have much to say about the Red Whale, and his strange story of his origin-an inven- tion by which he acquired the most, if not all, of his popularity over his superstitious follow- ers. Ife was a great orator, as well as success- ful war chief, and a friend of the whites.
When he was abont twenty-five years of age, so I was informed, he made a feast, and invited the principal men of his tribe, and thus addressed them : "My friends, you all know that as soon as I could use the bow and gun well, I placed myself under a warrior and a medicine man, to learn all they knew ; I blackened my face; I fasted many days, and dreamed many dreams. I then followed you on the war path. Few of you, on our return, made the women and children dance and sing more than I have done, for coming home with even one sealp, causes days of dancing and rejoicing." Then referring to his trophied head, he added : "You know how I got this hair and these feathers from your enemies' heads. I love the Sioux, and will now tell you where I came from, and how I became one of your people.
" When this world was small, and only a few camps upon it, a long way from here I was born
1
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in a land where the people were all black ; and, on growing up to manhood, I hated this black meat. My father would not let me travel tc see other tribes, so I told him I would die. Mother wanted to keep me ; but no, I was nn- happy amongst this black people, and I died. It is a fact that all the Indian tribes I have met with hate negroes. "I laid there,"' he continued, "about 600 years. At last I became weary, so I got up one night, very carefully, for fear of disturbing the old people ; for had they heard me, they would not have permitted me to go and travel. It was a good night ; the moon was bright; I could only see a little piece of it. I started. No one could hear my wings or sec my body. In crossing over the great Salt Lake, I got very tired ; but I did not like to die in the water, and took courage. I got to a tree where I took a good sleep. After that, I traveled to many places, looking out for a good camp where I would be happy ; but the camps I saw were mostly white, with some blacks-I did not like them. At last I got here one day, when the sun had gone down out of sight. Hearing singing and dancing at the Falling Water (St. Anthonys Falls), I perched myself on that big oak tree where your people encamp. From my elevated place, I could see through the tops of the lodges all things within as well as without. A war party had just returned with the scalps of their enemies. They were the most merry people I had ever seen, feast- ing, singing, dancing, and engaged in all kinds of sports. So I concluded to try your way for a while.
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