Rapacity of the traders—revelation of
Manito-o-geezhik—pretensions of As-kaw-ba-wis—credulity of
the Indians—colony at Red River, planted by the Hudson’s Bay
traders—large war-party assembled at Turtle Mountain—want of
discipline.
Mr. Henry had traded ten years at Pembinah. He was succeeded by a Mr.
M’Kenzie, who remained but a short time, and after him came Mr. Wells,
called by the Indians Gah-se-moan, (a sail,) from the roundness and
fulness of his person. He built a strong fort on Red River, near the
mouth of the Assinneboin. The Hudson’s Bay Company had now no post in
that part of the country, and the Indians were soon made conscious of
the advantage which had formerly resulted to them from the competition
between rival trading companies. Mr. Wells, at the commencement of
winter, called us all together, gave the Indians a ten gallon keg of rum
and some tobacco, telling them, at the same time, he would not credit
one of them the value of a single needle. When they brought skins, he
would buy them, and give in exchange such articles as were necessary
for their comfort and subsistence during the winter. I was not with the
Indians when this talk was held. When it was reported to me, and a share
of the presents offered me, I not only refused to accept any thing, but
reproached the Indians for their pusillanimity in submitting to such
terms. They had been accustomed for many years to receive credits in the
fall. They were now entirely destitute not of clothing merely, but of
ammunition, and many of them of guns and traps. How were they, without
the accustomed aid from the traders, to subsist themselves and their
families during the ensuing winter? A few days afterwards, I went to Mr.
Wells, and told him that I was poor, with a large family to support by my
own exertions, and that I must unavoidably suffer, and perhaps perish,
unless he would give me such a credit as I had always, in the fall, been
accustomed to receive. He would not listen to my representation and told
me, roughly, to be gone from his house. I then took eight silver beavers,
such as are worn by the women, as ornaments on their dress, and which I
had purchased the year before at just twice the price that was commonly
given for a capote. I laid them before him on the table, and asked him
to give me a capote for them, or retain them as a pledge for the payment
of the price of the garment, as soon as I could procure the peltries. He
took up the ornaments, threw them in my face, and told me never to come
inside of his house again. The cold weather of the winter had not yet
set in, and I went immediately to my hunting ground, killed a number of
moose, and set my wife to make the skins into such garments as were best
adapted to the winter season, and which I now saw we should be compelled
to substitute for the blankets and woollen clothes we had been accustomed
to receive from the traders.
I continued my hunting with good success, but the winter had not half
passed when I heard that Mr. Hanie, a trader for the Hudson’s Bay people,
had arrived at Pembinah. I went immediately to him, and he gave me all
the credit I asked, which was to the amount of seventy skins. Then I went
to Muskrat River, where I hunted the remainder of the winter, killing
great numbers of martens, beavers, otters, etc.
Early in the spring, I sent word by some Indians to Mr. Hanie, that I
would go down to the mouth of the Assinneboin, and meet him there to pay
my credit, as I had skins more than enough for this purpose.
When I arrived at the Assinneboin, Mr. Hanie had not yet passed, and
I stopped to wait for him opposite Mr. Well’s trading house. An old
Frenchman offered me a lodging in his house, and I went in and deposited
my peltries under the place he gave me to sleep in. Mr. Wells, having
heard of my arrival, sent three times, urging me to come and see him. At
last, I yielded to the solicitations of my brother-in-law and crossed
over with him. Mr. Wells was glad to see me, and treated me with much
politeness. He offered me wine and provisions, and whatever his house
afforded. I had taken nothing except a little tobacco, when I saw
his Frenchman come in with my packs. They carried them past me into
Mr. Well’s bed room. He then locked the door, and took out the key.
Immediately his kindness and attentions to me relaxed. I said nothing,
but felt not the less anxious and uneasy, as I was very unwilling to
be deprived of the means of paying Mr. Hanie his credit, still more so
to have my property taken from me by violence, or without my consent.
I watched about the house, and at length found an opportunity to slip
into the bed room, while Mr. Wells was then taking something from a
trunk. He tried to drive me, and afterwards to push me out, but I was
too strong for him. After he had proceeded to this violence, I did not
hesitate to take up my packs, but he snatched them from me. Again I
seized them, and in the struggle that ensued, the thongs that bound them
were broken, and the skins strewed about the floor. As I went to gather
them up, he drew a pistol, cocked it, and presented it to my breast. For
a moment I stood motionless, thinking he would certainly kill me, as I
saw he was much enraged. Then I seized his hand, and turned it aside,
at the same moment drawing from my belt a large knife, which I grasped
firmly in my right hand, still holding him by my left. Seeing himself
thus suddenly and entirely in my power, he called first for his wife,
then for his interpreter, and told them to put me out of the house.
To this, the interpreter answered, “You are as able to put him out as
I am.” Some of the Frenchmen were also in the house, but they refused
to give him any assistance. Finding he was not likely to intimidate or
overcome me by violence, he had recourse once more to milder measures.
He offered to divide with me, and to allow me to retain half my peltries
for the Hudson’s Bay people. “You have always,” said he, “belonged to
the North West; why should you now desert us for the Hudson’s Bay?” He
then proceeded to count the skins, dividing them into two parcels, but
I told him it was unnecessary, as I was determined he should not have
one of them. “I went to you,” said I, “last fall, when I was hungry and
destitute, and you drove me, like a dog, from your door. The ammunition
with which I killed these animals, was credited to me by Mr. Hanie, and
the skins belong to him but if this was not the case, you should not have
one of them. You are a coward. You have not so much courage as a child.
If you had the heart of a squaw, you would not have pointed your pistol
at my breast, and have failed to shoot me. My life was in your power,
and there was nothing to prevent your taking it, not even the fear of my
friends, for you know that I am a stranger here, and not one among the
Indians would raise his hand to avenge my death. You might have thrown
my body into the river, as you would a dog, and no one would have asked
you what you had done, but you wanted the spirit to do even this.” He
asked me if I had not a knife in my hand. I then showed him two, a large
and a small one, and told him to beware how he provoked me to use them.
At last, wearied with this altercation, he went and sat down opposite me
in the large room. Though he was at considerable distance, so great was
his agitation that I could distinctly hear his heart beat. He sat awhile,
then went and began to walk back and forth in the yard. I collected my
skins together, and the interpreter helped me to tie them up; then taking
them on my back, I walked out, passed close by him, put them in my canoe,
and returned to the old Frenchman’s house on the other side.
Next morning, it appeared that Mr. Wells had thought better of the
subject than to wish to take my property from me by violence, for he sent
his interpreter to offer me his horse, which was a very valuable one, if
I would think no more of what he had done. “Tell him,” said I, to the
interpreter, “he is a child, and wishes to quarrel and forget his quarrel
in one day, but he shall not find I am like him. I have a horse of my
own, I will keep my packs, nor will I forget that he pointed his pistol
at my breast when he had not the courage to shoot me.”
On the following morning, one of the clerks of the North West Company
arrived from the trading-house at Mouse River, and he, it appeared, told
Mr. Wells when he heard what had passed that he would take my packs
from me, and though Mr. Wells cautioned him against it, he determined
on making the attempt. It was near noon when the old Frenchman, after
looking out of his house, said to me, “My friend, I believe you will
lose your packs now. Four men are coming this way, all well armed; their
visit, I am sure, is for no good or friendly purpose.” Hearing this, I
placed my packs in the middle of the floor, and taking a beaver trap in
my hand, sat down on them. When the clerk came in, accompanied by three
young men, he asked me for my packs. “What right have you,” said I, “to
demand them?” “You are indebted to me,” said he. “When did I owe the
North West any thing, that was not paid at the time agreed on?” “Ten
years ago,” said he, “your brother, Wa-me-gon-a-biew, had a credit from
me, which he paid all but ten skins. Those are still due, and I wish you
to pay them.” “Very well,” said I, “I will pay your demand, but you must,
at the same time, pay me for those four packs of beaver we sent to you
from the Grand Portage. Your due bill was, as you know, burned with my
lodge at Ke-mu-kaw-ne-she-wa-bo-ant, and you have never paid me, or any
member of our family, the value of a single needle for those one hundred
and sixty beaver skins.” Finding this method would not succeed, and
knowing, though he disregarded it, the justice of my reply, he tried the
effect of violent measures, like those used on the preceding day by Mr.
Wells; but when he perceived these were and would be equally unavailing,
he returned to the fort without having taken a single marten skin from me.
When I ascertained that it would be some time before Mr. Hanie would
arrive, I went down to Dead River, and while I was waiting there, killed
four hundred muskrats. At last, Mr. Hanie arrived at the place where
I, with another man, had been waiting for him. He told me that he had
passed Mr. Wells’ trading-house at the mouth of the Assinneboin, in the
middle of the day, with his crew singing. Mr. Wells, on seeing him, had
immediately started after him, with a canoe strongly manned and armed.
On perceiving this pursuit, Mr. Hanie went on shore, and leaving his men
in his canoe, went up about twenty yards into a smooth prairie. Hither
Mr. Wells followed him, attended by several armed men, but Mr. Hanie
made him stop at the distance of ten yards, and a long dispute followed,
which ended in his permitting Mr. Hanie to pass down. I related to him my
story of the treatment I had received, and paid him his credit. I traded
with him for the remainder of my peltries, and after we had finished, he
gave me some handsome presents, among which was a valuable gun, and then
went on his way. As I was re-ascending Red River, I met Mr. Wells. He
was destitute of fresh game, and asked me for some, which I should have
given, had it been in my power, but he attributed my refusal to ill will.
Afterwards, though I was living at a distance from him, he sent his horse
to me, and again subsequently to Pembinah, but I constantly refused to
accept it. Notwithstanding my steady and repeated refusal, I was informed
he always said the horse belonged to me, and after his death, which
happened three years later, the other traders told me I ought to take the
horse, but I would not, and it fell into the hands of an old Frenchman.
After the death of Mr. Wells, I returned to the North West Company, and
traded with them, as before, but never while he lived. If he had shot me,
and wounded me ever so severely, I should have been less offended with
him, than to have him present his pistol, as he did, to my breast, and
take it away without firing.
Esh-ke-buk-ke-koo-sa, a chief of Leech Lake, came after this to
Pembinah with about forty young men, and I went, by invitation, from
the Be-gwi-o-nus-ko, with others, to hear him give some account of the
recent revelation from the Great Spirit to Manito-o-geezhik. We were all
assembled one night in a long lodge, erected for the purpose, to dance
and feast, and listen to the discourse of the chief, when suddenly we
heard two guns, in quick succession, in the direction of the North West
Company’s trading-house, now unoccupied, except by two Frenchmen who had
that day arrived. The old men looked at each other in doubt and dismay.
Some said the Frenchmen are killing wolves, but Esh-ke-buk-ke-koo-sa
said, “I know the sound of the guns of the Sioux.” The night was very
dark, but all the young men took their arms and started immediately, and
I among the foremost. Many getting entangled among logs and stumps,
made but little progress. I kept the path, and was still foremost, when
a dark figure shot past me, and at the same moment I heard the voice of
the Black Duck, saying, neen-dow-in-nin-ne, (I am a man.) I had often
heard of the prowess of this man, and in one instance had seen him at
the Sioux village at Chief Mountain, lead in what we all supposed would
be an attack. Now I determined to keep near him. We had advanced within
about gun shot of the fort when he began to leap, first to one side, and
then to the other, thus moving in a zigzag line, though rapidly, towards
the gate of the fort. I followed his example, and when he leapt into
the open gate of the fort, it was with a surprising effort of activity,
which carried his feet near two yards from the ground. We saw within
the fort a house, at the window and door of which we perceived a bright
light. The Black Duck had a buffalo robe over his shoulders, the dark
colour of which enabled him to pass the window undiscovered by the man
who was watching within, but my white blanket betraying me, the muzzle
of a gun was instantly presented to my head, but not discharged, for the
Black Duck at that instant caught in his arms the affrighted Frenchman,
who had mistaken me for one of the Sioux, and was in the act of firing
upon me. The second Frenchman was with the women and children, who were
all lying in a heap in the corner of the room, crying through fear. It
appeared that the one who was watching by the window, who was the most
manly of the two, had, a few minutes before, been driving his horse out
of the fort, to give him water, when the animal had been shot dead in the
gate by some men concealed near at hand. He at first thought we were the
people who had shot his horse, but he was soon convinced of his error, as
we did not even know that the body of the horse was lying at the gate,
having jumped entirely over it when we entered. This Frenchman would not
leave the fort, but the Black Duck, who was a relative of one of the
women, insisted that they should be taken to the Indian camp. Others of
our young men had by this time come up, and we determined to watch in
the fort all night. Next morning we found the trail of the two men who
had crossed the Pembinah river, a considerable war party having been
concealed on the other side. The two men were the celebrated Yanktong
chief, Wah-ne-tow, and his uncle. They had concealed themselves near the
gate of the fort, with the determination to shoot down whatever came out
or went in. The first that passed, happening to be the Frenchman’s horse,
he was shot down; and the two men, probably without knowing whether they
had killed man or beast, fled across the river.
When it was ascertained that the Sioux war party was not a very large
one, many were disposed to pursue after it, but Esh-ke-buk-ke-koo-sha
said, “not so, my brethren. Manito-o-geezhik, whose messenger I am to
you, tells us we must no more go against our enemies. And is it not
manifest that in this instance the Great Spirit has protected us. Had the
Sioux come about our lodge when we were feasting in security, without our
arms in our hands, how easily might they have killed all of us, but they
were misled, and made to mistake a Frenchman’s horse for an Ojibbeway.
So will it continue to be if we are obedient to the injunctions we have
received.” I began to be apprehensive for my family, having left them at
home, and fearing that the Sioux might visit them on their way to their
own country. “Go,” said Esh-ke-buk-ke-koo-sha, when I told him of my
anxiety, “but do not fear that the Sioux can do any injury to your wife
or children, but I wish you to go that on your return you may bring me
your medicine bag, and I shall show you what to do with the contents.” I
did accordingly, and he ordered the contents of my medicine bag, except
the medicines for war and hunting, to be thrown into the fire. “This,”
said he, “is what we must henceforth do. If any one is sick, let them
take a bowl of birch bark, and a little tobacco; the sick person himself,
if he is able to walk, otherwise his nearest relative, and let them go to
the nearest running water. Let the tobacco be offered to the stream, then
dipping the bowl in the same direction in which the water runs, let them
take a little, and carry it home, for the sick person to drink. But if
the sickness be very severe, then let the person that dips up the water,
plunge the bowl so deep that the edge of it shall touch the mud in the
bottom of the stream.” He then gave me a small hoop of wood to wear on
my head like a cap. On one half of this hoop was marked the figure of a
snake, whose office, as the chief told me, was to take care of the water;
on the other half, the figure of a man, to represent the Great Spirit.
This band, or fillet, was not to be worn on ordinary occasions—only when
I should go to bring water for some of my family or friends who should be
sick. I was much dissatisfied at the destruction of the contents of my
medicine bag, many of them being such roots and other substances as I had
found useful in the disorders incident to my situation, and I was still
more displeased that we were not, henceforth, to be allowed to use these
remedies, some of which I knew to be of great value. But all the Indians
of the band were in the same situation with myself, and I was compelled
to submit.
When the spring came on, I went to fulfil an appointment I had made the
preceding fall with Sha-gwaw-ko-sink, to meet him at a certain place. I
arrived on the spot at the time appointed, and shortly afterwards, the
old man came, on foot and alone, to search for me. He had encamped about
two miles distant, where he had been for two days, and they had plenty of
fresh meat, which was particularly grateful to me as for some time past I
had killed but little.
I lived with him during the summer. Sha-gwaw-ko-sink was now too old and
feeble to hunt, but he had some young men with him, who kept him supplied
while game was to be had, but late in the fall the hunting grounds
about us became poor. The weather was very cold, and the ground hard
frozen, but no snow fell so that it was difficult to follow the tracks
of the moose and the noise of our walking on hard ground and dry leaves,
gave the animals timely warning of our approach. This state of things
continuing for some time, we were all reduced nearly to starvation, and
had recourse, as a last resort, to medicine hunting. Half the night
I sung and prayed, and then lay down to sleep. I saw in my dream a
beautiful young man come down through the hole in the top of my lodge,
and he stood directly before me. “What,” said he, “is this noise and
crying that I hear? Do I not know when you are hungry and in distress?
I look down upon you at all times, and it is not necessary you should
call me with such loud cries.” Then pointing directly towards the sun’s
setting, he said, “do you see those tracks?” “Yes,” I answered, “they
are the tracks of two moose.” “I give you those two moose to eat.” Then
pointing in an opposite direction, towards the place of the sun’s rising,
he showed me a bear’s track, and said, “that also I give you.” He then
went out at the door of my lodge, and as he raised the blanket, I saw
that snow was falling rapidly.
[Illustration]
I very soon awoke, and feeling too much excited to sleep, I called
old Sha-gwaw-ko-sink to smoke with me, and then prepared my
Muz-zin-ne-neen-suk,[27] as in the subjoined sketch, to represent the
animals whose tracks had been shown me in my dream. At the earliest dawn,
I started from the lodge in a heavy fall of snow, and taking the course
pointed out to me, long before noon I fell on the track of two moose,
and killed them both, a male and a female, and extremely fat.
The songs used on occasion of these medicine hunts have relation to
the religious opinions of the Indians. They are often addressed to
Na-na-boo-shoo, or Na-Na-bush, whom they intreat to be their interpreter,
and communicate their requests to the Supreme. Oftentimes, also, to
Me-suk-kum-mik O-kwi, or the earth, the great-grandmother of all. In
these songs, they relate how Na-na-bush created the ground in obedience
to the commands of the Great Spirit, and how all things for the use, and
to supply the wants of the uncles and aunts of Na-na-bush, (by which
are meant men and women,) were committed to the care and keeping of the
great mother. Na-na-bush, ever the benevolent intercessor between the
Supreme Being and mankind, procured to be created for their benefit the
animals whose flesh should be for their food, and whose skins were for
their clothing. He sent down roots and medicines of sovereign power to
heal their sicknesses, and in times of hunger, to enable them to kill
the animals of the chase. All these things were committed to the care
of Me-suk-kum-mik O-kwi, and that his uncles and aunts might never call
on her in vain, the old woman was directed to remain constantly at home
in her lodge. Hence it is that good Indians never dig up the roots of
which their medicines are made, without at the same time depositing in
the earth something as an offering to Me-suk-kum-mik O-kwi. They sing
also, how, in former times, the Great Spirit having killed the brother
of Na-na-bush, the latter was angry, and strengthened himself against
the Supreme. Na-na-bush waxed stronger and stronger, and was likely to
prevail against Gitch-e-manito, when the latter, to appease him, gave him
the Me-tai. With this, Na-na-bush was so pleased, that he brought it down
to his uncles and aunts on the earth.
Many of these songs are noted down by a method probably peculiar to the
Indians, on birch bark, or small flat pieces of wood, the ideas being
conveyed by emblematic figures somewhat like those before mentioned, as
used in communicating ordinary information.
Two years previous to this time, a man of our band called Ais-kaw-ba-wis,
a quiet and rather insignificant person, and a poor hunter, lost his wife
by death, and his children began, even more than formerly, to suffer of
hunger. The death of his wife was attended with peculiar circumstances,
and Ais-kaw-ba-wis became melancholy and despondent, which we attributed
to the sluggishness of his disposition, but he at length called the
chiefs together, and with much solemnity announced to them that he had
been favoured by a new revelation from the Great Spirit. He showed them
a round ball of earth, about four or five inches in diameter, or more
than half as large as a man’s head, rolled round and smooth, and smeared
with red paint. “The Great Spirit,” said he, “as I sat, from day to day,
crying, and praying, and singing in my lodge, at last called to me, and
said, ‘Ais-kaw-ba-wis, I have heard your prayers, I have seen the mats
in your lodge wet with your tears, and have listened to your request. I
give you this ball, and as you see it is clean and new, I give it to
you for your business to make the whole earth like it, even as it was
when Na-na-bush first made it. All old things must be destroyed and done
away; every thing must be made anew, and to your hands, Ais-kaw-ba-wis, I
commit this great work.’”
I was among those whom he called in to listen to this first annunciation
of his mission. It was not until after he dismissed us that I said any
thing, but then, in conversation with my companions, I soon betrayed my
want of credulity. “It is well,” said I, “that we may be made acquainted
with the whole mind and will of the Great Spirit at so cheap a rate. We
have now these divinely taught instructors springing up among ourselves,
and fortunately, such men as are worth nothing for any other purpose. The
Shawnee prophet was far off. Ke-zhi-ko-we-ninne and Manito-o-geezhik,
though of our own tribe, were not with us. They were also men. But here
we have one too poor, and indolent, and spiritless, to feed his own
family, yet he is made the instrument, in the hand of the Great Spirit,
as he would have us believe, to renovate the whole earth.” I had always
entertained an unfavourable opinion of this man, as I knew him to be one
of the most worthless among the Indians, and I now felt indignant at his
attempt to pass himself upon us as a chosen and favoured messenger of
the Supreme Spirit. I hesitated not to ridicule his pretensions wherever
I went, but notwithstanding that bad luck constantly attended him, he
gained a powerful ascendancy over the minds of the Indians. His incessant
beating of his drum at night scared away the game from our neighbourhood,
and his insolent hypocrisy made him offensive to me at all times, but he
had found the way to control the minds of many of the people, and all my
efforts in opposition to him were in vain.
On one occasion, while we remained at this place, and had been suffering
some days from hunger, I went out to hunt and wounded a moose. On my
return, I related this, and said I believe the moose was so badly wounded
that he must die. Early next morning, Ais-kaw-ba-wis came to my lodge,
and with the utmost seriousness in his manner, said to me that the Great
Spirit had been down, and told him of the moose I had wounded. “He is
now dead,” said he, “and you will find him in such a place. It is the
will of the Great Spirit that he should be brought here and cooked for
a sacrifice.” I thought it not improbable that the moose was killed,
and went in search of him accordingly, but I found he was not dead.
This afforded me another opportunity to ridicule the pretensions of
Ais-kaw-ba-wis, but all seemed in no degree to impair the confidence of
the Indians. Very shortly afterwards, it happened that I again wounded
a moose, and went home without getting it. “This,” said Ais-kaw-ba-wis,
“is the moose which the Great Spirit showed me.” So I went out and
brought him in, and as I knew many of the Indians were hungry, I was
willing to make a feast, though not out of deference to Ais-kaw-ba-wis.
As we were too few in number to consume all the meat, we cut it off the
bones, and these were heaped up before Ais-kaw-ba-wis, care being taken
that not one of them should be broken. They were afterwards carried to
a safe place, and hung up out of the reach of the dogs or wolves, as no
bone of an animal offered in this way must, by any means, be broken.
On the following day, I killed another fat moose, on which occasion
Ais-kaw-ba-wis made a long address to the Great Spirit, and afterwards
said to me, “You see, my son, how your goodness is rewarded. You gave the
first you killed to the Spirit. He will take care you shall not want.”
Next day I went with my brother-in-law, and we killed each one, and now
Ais-kaw-ba-wis exulted much in the efficacy of the sacrifice he had
caused me to make, and his ascendancy over the superstitious minds of the
Indians was confirmed. Notwithstanding this high degree of favour he had
obtained by his cunning, he was a man who, once in his life, had eaten
his own wife for hunger, and whom the Indians would then have killed as
one unworthy to live.
When the snow began to harden on the top at the approach of the spring,
the men of our band, Sha-gwaw-koo-sink, Wau-zhe-gaw-maish-koon,
Ba-po-wash, Gish-kau-ko, myself and some others, went to make a hunting
camp at some distance for the purpose of making dry meat, and left
only Ais-kaw-ba-wis at home with the women. We killed much game, as
it is very easy to take moose and elk at that season. The crust on the
snow, while it will bear a man, almost deprives them of the power of
motion. At length, Gish-kau-ko went home to see his family, and on his
return he brought me a little tobacco from Ais-kaw-ba-wis, with this
message. “Your life is in danger.” “My life,” said I, “belongs neither to
Ais-kaw-ba-wis nor myself. It is in the hands of the Great Spirit, and
when he sees fit to place it in danger, or bring it to an end, I shall
have no cause to complain, but I cannot believe that he has revealed any
part of his intentions to so worthless a man as Ais-kaw-ba-wis.” But
this intimation alarmed all the Indians who were with me, and they made
the best of their way to the place where Ais-kaw-ba-wis was encamped
with the women. I took a circuitous route by myself to visit some of my
traps, and having caught an otter, I took him on my back, and arrived
at home some time after them. Here I found all our lodges converted
into one large one. The women and children together with the men who
had arrived long before me, were shivering with cold by a fire in the
open air. When I inquired the meaning of all this, they told me that
Ais-kaw-ba-wis was preparing for some important communication to be given
through him from the Great Spirit. He had been a long time in preparing
the lodge, during which every one was excluded, and he had arranged
that at a certain signal Ba-po-wash, who was to lead the dance, should
enter, and the others were to follow him, and after having danced four
times around the lodge, to sit down, each in his place. Hearing this, I
immediately entered the long lodge, and throwing down my otter, seated
myself by the fire. Ais-kaw-ba-wis gave me one angry and malicious look,
then closed his eyes, and affected to go on with a prayer that I had
interrupted. After some time, he began to drum and sing aloud, and at
the third interval of silence, which was the signal agreed upon with
Ba-po-wash, the latter came dancing in, followed by men, women, and
children, and after circling the lodge four times, they all sat down in
their places. For a few moments all was silence, while Ais-kaw-ba-wis
continued sitting with his eyes closed, in the middle of the lodge, by
a spot of smooth and soft ground which he had prepared, like that used
by the war chiefs in their Ko-zau-bun-zitch-e-kun. Then he began to call
the men, one by one, to come and sit down by him. Last of all, he called
me, and I went and sat down as he directed. Then addressing himself to
me, he said, “Shaw-shaw-wa ne-ba-se, my son, it is probable you will now
be frightened, as I have very unpleasant information to give you. The
Great Spirit has, as you, my friends, all know, in former times favoured
me with the free communication of his mind and will. Lately he has been
pleased to show me what is to happen to each of us in future. For you,
my friends, (to Sha-gwaw-go-nuck and the other Indians,) who have been
careful to regard and obey the injunctions of the Great Spirit, as
communicated by me, to each of you he has given to live to the full age
of man; this long and straight line is the image of your several lives.
For you, Shaw-shaw-wa ne-ba-se, who have turned aside from the right
path, and despised the admonitions you have received, this short and
crooked line represents your life. You are to attain only to half of the
full age of man. This line, turning off on the other side, is that which
shows what is determined in relation to the young wife of Ba-po-wash.”
As he said this, he showed us the marks he had made on the ground, as
below. The long, straight line, A, representing, as he said, the life of
the Indians, Sha-gwaw-koo-sink, Wau-zhe-gaw-maish-koon, etc. The short
crooked one, B, showing the irregular course and short continuance of
mine, and the abruptly terminating one on the other side, showing the
life of the favourite wife of Ba-po-wash. It happened that Ba-po-wash had
dried the choice parts of a fat bear, intending in the spring to make
a feast to his medicine, and a few days previous to this time, while
we were absent at our hunting camp, Ais-kaw-ba-wis had said to the old
woman, the mother of Ba-po-wash’s wife, “The Great Spirit has signified
to me that all things are not as they should be. Send out and see,
therefore, if the fat bear which your son has hung up for a feast to his
medicine is all where it was left.” She went out accordingly, and found
that the feet of the bear were gone, Ais-kaw-ba-wis himself, who was a
great glutton, having stolen them. This was now made known to Ba-po-wash,
who was much alarmed at the threatened evil, and to avert it he not only
gave Ais-kaw-ba-wis the remainder of the bear, but a large quantity of
marrow he had saved for his feast, and other valuable presents.
[Illustration]
After this, we started to come to an island called Me-nau-zhe-taw-naun,
in the Lake of the Woods, where we had concluded to plant corn, instead
of our old fields at Dead River. On our way we stopped at a place to make
sugar, then we went to visit the traders, leaving Ais-kaw-ba-wis with our
women. It happened that the wife of Gish-kau-ko had left her kettle at
the sugar camp, some distance from the place where they were to wait for
our return. Some time after the men had gone, Ais-kaw-ba-wis, who lived
by himself in a little lodge, pretending to be too holy to go into a
common house, or to mingle with men in their ordinary pursuits, sent for
the wife of Gish-kau-ko, and when she came to him, he said, “The Great
Spirit is not pleased that you should abandon and lose your property. Go,
therefore, and get the kettle that you have left at the sugar camp.” The
woman obeyed, and he, soon after she had left the camp, took his gun, and
under the pretence of going to hunt, went out in a different direction.
But he had no sooner got out of sight of the lodges than he turned, and
by circuitous route came upon the track of the wife of Gish-kau-ko. She,
who had been before annoyed by his particular attentions, and surmised
the real object he had in view in sending her for the kettle, kept a look
out behind her, and when she saw him come running after her, she began
to run also. Just at this time I was returning from the trading-house
with the other Indians, when we descried this chase at a distance. It
occasioned us much alarm when we saw first a woman, then a man, running
with so much apparent earnestness. We thought nothing less than that the
Sioux had come to the country, and were murdering our women and children.
But when we came a little nearer, the pretended prophet gave over his
pursuit of the woman, and came and sat down with us, to drink of the rum
which the Indians had brought from the trading-house, and which they
gave him very liberally. The woman was, however, after her arrival at
home, compelled to give some account of the race, and she acknowledged
that Ais-kaw-ba-wis had often sought similar opportunities to be alone
with her, though such was her fear of him that she never dared make any
disclosure, or offer any other resistance than an attempt to escape
by flight. This discovery occasioned no disturbance, and seemed in no
degree to diminish the influence of Ais-kaw-ba-wis. A large proportion
of the rum we had brought from the trading-house was set apart for him,
but when the principal man among us sent for him to come and receive it,
he returned for answer, that he could not come. “Tell the chief,” said
he, “that if he has any business with me, he can come to my lodge.” The
liquor was accordingly carried to him, but its effect seemed to render
his disposition somewhat more social and condescending, for about the
middle of the night he came staggering into the lodge where I was without
the least covering on any part of his body. To me his appearance was
ludicrous in the extreme, and I did not refrain from a good deal of
irreverent merriment on the occasion.
After this we came to the Lake of the Woods, where I hunted for about
a month, then went back into the country I had left, all the Indians
remaining behind to clear the ground where they intended planting corn
at Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung. I now began to experience the inconveniences
resulting from having incurred the ill will of Ais-kaw-ba-wis. He it
was who prejudiced the Indians so much against me, and particularly the
relatives of my wife, that my situation at Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung was
uncomfortable, and I was compelled to return to Red River.
It was about this time that the Scots people, to the number of one
hundred or more, arrived to settle at Red River, under the protection
of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and among these I saw, for the first time
in many years, since I had become a man, a white woman. Soon after my
arrival, I was taken into the employment of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and
Mr. Hanie, the agent, sent me, accompanied by Mr. Hess, an interpreter,
and some men, to kill buffalo. The buffalo were at that time, at a great
distance, and the Scots people in great distress for want of provisions.
I happened to find and kill two bulls near home, and after sending back
the meat, I went on to the herds.
I had hunted here a few days, when our number was increased to four
clerks and about twenty men, the latter employed in bringing in the meat
I killed to my lodge, whence it was carried in carts to the settlement.
All of these lived in my lodge, but one of the clerks named M’Donald was
very abusive to my wife and children. Mr. Hess repeatedly checked him
for this conduct, but as he continued it, he complained to Mr. Hanie,
who sent M’Donald to a place several miles distant where the Indians had
killed about twenty buffaloes, which it was not convenient, at present,
to bring out, and there he remained by himself for two months, having
no other occupation or amusement than to scare the wolves away from
the meat. Mr. M’Kenzie was one of the three remaining clerks who lived
in my lodge, and he was so different from M’Donald, that at the end of
four months, when the greater part of the people were called in to the
settlement, he solicited and obtained from Mr. Hanie permission to remain
longer with me, to improve himself in the Ojibbeway language, and he did
not leave me until after the sugar season.
I killed, in the four months that I hunted for the Hudson’s Bay Company,
about one hundred buffaloes, but as part, or all of many of these
were eaten in my own lodge, I delivered only forty entire and fat ones
to the company’s people, for which Mr. Hanie paid me, in the spring,
three hundred and ten dollars. Those Scots labourers who were with me,
were much more rough and brutal in their manners than any people I had
before seen. Even when they had plenty, they ate like starved dogs, and
never failed to quarrel over their meat. The clerks frequently beat and
punished them, but they would still quarrel.
Mr. Hanie, and the governor for the Hudson’s Bay Company, proposed to
me to build me a house, and engage me permanently in their employment,
but I delayed accepting their offer, as I thought it doubtful whether
their attempt at settling the country would finally succeed. Some of the
Indians whom I had left at the Lake of the Woods had followed me out,
spent the winter with me, and returned long ago. I was still by myself
at Red River, when Wa-ge-tote came from Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung with a
message from my father and mother-in-law. They had lost several of their
children by death, and feeling lonely, they sent for me to come to them.
This message Wa-ge-tote delivered to me in the presence of the traders,
and some other persons, but afterwards he called me out by myself,
and said to me, “Do not believe that your father-in-law calls you to
Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung, to be at peace, or with any kind intention. When
the children were sick, they called Ais-kaw-ba-wis to do something for
them, and he having made a chees-suk-kon, said he had called you into
his enclosure, and made you confess that you had shot bad medicine at
the children, though you were at that time at Red River. He made your
father-in-law believe that you had the power of life and death over
his children, and he continues to believe, as do most of the Indians
of the band, that it was your medicine which killed them. Be assured,
therefore, that they call you thither with the design of killing you.”
Notwithstanding this admonition, I started immediately, as I knew if I
did not they would be but the more confirmed in their unfounded opinion
of my culpability.
I had bought a shirt from some of the Scots people at Red River, which
I put on as I was about to start on this journey. Probably it was from
this I contracted a disease of the skin, which became so troublesome and
violent that I was compelled to stop at the Be-gwi-o-nus-ko River. Here I
remained for a month, being for a long time unable to move. When I first
stopped I set up my lodge on the brink of the river, and after I was
unable to walk, I subsisted myself and family by lying in my canoe and
fishing. After being placed in my canoe, sometimes I lay there for three
or four days without being moved, covering myself with a mat at night. My
wife was not so severely affected, being, though very sick, still able to
walk. When I began to get a little better, I tried all sorts of medicines
I could procure, but none seemed to do me so much good as gun powder,
moistened a little, and rubbed upon the sores, which were very large.
This disorder, caught originally from the Scotch people, spread among the
Indians and killed numbers of them.
After I had recovered, I went up the Be-wi-o-nus-ko, to the small lake of
the same name, where I stopped to hunt, and killed plenty of meat. While
I remained here, there came one day to my lodge, four young men from our
village at Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung. In one of them, who was painted black, I
recognized my brother-in-law. The three other children being dead, grief,
and a feeling of loneliness, influenced him to leave his father, and
start in search of some war party, that he might accompany them against
their enemies, and thus have an opportunity of sacrificing, honourably, a
life that had become irksome to him. The three young men his companions,
being unwilling to see him depart alone, had voluntarily accompanied him.
I gave him my horse, and then went up to the Lake of the Woods to my
father-in-law, where I remained a few days. As it was then the time when
the wild geese, having cast their quills, are unable to fly, we caught
great numbers of them.
After four days, I said to the old people, “I cannot remain here, while
my little brother has gone crying about, with none to protect him. I
know there is danger in the path he will walk, and I ought to follow
to show him where it lies. He wishes to join a war party, that he may
walk in a dangerous road, but there is often danger where we least
expect it.” I knew that Wa-me-gon-a-biew would fall upon this boy, and
insult or perhaps kill him on account of his remote relationship to the
man who wounded Taw-ga-we-ninne, at Mackinac, or at least with this
pretence. Sha-gwaw-koo-sink, hearing my determination, and the reasons
I gave for it, said he would accompany me. We started together, and on
our arrival at Red River, we heard that Wa-me-gon-a-biew had taken from
the boy the horse I gave him, and had already threatened to kill him. I
went immediately to Wa-me-gon-a-biew, and a quarrel would probably have
taken place at once on account of the young man, had not old Net-no-kwa
come between and separated us, as we were about to come to blows. We
were all now about to join the Crees and Assinneboins to go against the
Sioux, and I cautioned my young brother-in-law to be, on this journey,
always watchful of the movements of Wa-me-gon-a-biew. We were about
forty men in number when we started from Red River. As we passed along
through the Cree and Assinneboin encampments and villages on our route,
our party was augmented to the number of two hundred men long before we
arrived at Turtle Mountain. While we were encamped near one of the Cree
villages, Wa-ge-tote and the principal chiefs being called away to a
feast, Wa-me-gon-a-biew began to talk of my brother-in-law, and as I did
not like to hear him, I went out and walked about at a distance from the
camp. When I thought the chiefs had returned from the feast, I re-entered
the camp, but from the expression of concern and interest visible in
the faces of those about me, I immediately comprehended that something
had happened. I went to search for the young man on whose account
particularly I felt anxious, and finding him safe, was returning to my
own place, when I discovered in the hands of an old man, who was trying
to replace them in their original shape, the splinters and fragments of
my new gun. I was at no loss to comprehend the nature of the accident
which had deprived me of the use of my gun at a time when it was likely
to prove so important to me, and in the first moment of irritation, I
seized the barrel, and was walking towards Wa-me-gon-a-biew to beat
him with it, when I met Wa-ge-tote, who interfered to prevent me from
striking him, though Wa-ge-tote himself, as well as the other chiefs,
expressed the greatest dissatisfaction at what he had done.
But notwithstanding the loss of my gun, I did not turn back. Arming
myself with my gun barrel in place of war club and spear, I went on.
In two days from this camp, we arrived at the head of Turtle Mountain,
being now about four hundred men. This was the place agreed upon for
the assembling of all who should join in the party, and we had supposed
that those we should meet here would be few in number in comparison with
ourselves. We were therefore somewhat surprised when we found already on
the ground, one thousand Assinneboins, Crees, and Ojibbeways.
We stopped at a little distance, and some communication took place
between the chiefs, respecting the ceremony of salutation to be used.
It is customary for war parties engaged in the same cause, or friendly
to each other, when they meet, to exchange a few shots by way of a sham
battle, in which they use all the jumping, the whooping, and yelling of
a real fight. But on this occasion both bands were so large, and one
so much larger than the other, that the chiefs thought it more prudent
to use a different method of exchanging compliments in meeting. It was
agreed, on the part of Match-a-to-ge-wub,[28] the principal chief,
that his young men should all remain in their lodges, and that twenty
warriors of our band should salute their encampment by practising the
manoeuvres of attacking a village. A large lodge was set up for them to
cut in pieces by their firing. I was one of the twenty selected for this
performance, having supplied myself with a gun which I procured from a
man who turned back. It was not without the utmost exertion of all my
strength that I kept even pace with my companions, in running, leaping,
loading, and yelling, and though we rested four times, when we arrived
at the chief’s lodge, and had blown it to fragments, I was entirely
exhausted with fatigue. A man of our own party, imprudently, and without
any authority, exposed himself in the village while this salute was in
progress, but his clothes were blown and scorched off his back, his lodge
shot down, and himself much hurt. But as the exposure had been altogether
voluntary on his part, and the notice taken of him rather honourable than
otherwise, he had no cause of complaint.
On the first night after we came together, three men of the Ojibbeways
were killed. On the next, two horses belonging to the Assinneboins,
and on the third, three more. When such numbers of men assemble from
different and remote parts of the country, some must be brought into
contact between whom old grudges and enmities exist, and it is not
surprising that the unstable power and influence of the chiefs should be
insufficient to prevent disturbances and bloodshed. On this occasion,
men were assembled from a vast extent of country, of dissimilar feelings
and dialects, and of the whole fourteen hundred, not one who would
acknowledge any authority superior to his own will. It is true that
ordinarily they yield a certain deference, and a degree of obedience to
the chief each may have undertaken to follow, but this obedience, in most
instances, continues no longer than the will of the chief corresponds
entirely with the inclination of those he leads. In this party were some
who had been a year on their journey to reach this place. Two hundred
lodges had their women with them.
Soon after we joined the main body at Turtle Mountain, a Cree of Prairie
Fort, adopted me into his family, taking my baggage, and inviting me into
his lodge. He called me constantly Ne-je,[29] (my friend,) and treated me
with great kindness. Many other men who were without lodges, were in like
manner taken into the families of those that had.
But a few days had passed, when the little boys commenced, in the first
instance a very small number, by kicking at each other in playfulness
merely, but it happened that on one side were Assinneboin children
only, and on the other Crees and Ojibbeways. By degrees larger and
larger boys, and at last men joined in on either side, and what had
commenced in play, was like to terminate in a serious and bloody brawl.
Match-a-to-ge-wub ran between the combatants, exerted his voice and his
hands; afterwards Wa-ge-tote and all the other principal chiefs, but the
young men paid little or no regard to them. The excitement which had
kindled among them was maddening to rage, and the chiefs were running
about in the utmost distress and fear, when an old man, whose head was
white as snow, and who was so bent down with age that he walked on two
sticks, and looking more like a dog than a man, came out, and though his
voice was too feeble to be heard at any distance, he no sooner appeared,
than all the Assinneboins desisted entirely from their violence, and the
quarrel ended. Of those that were wounded and injured in this affair,
only two died immediately, but many were so much injured that they were
sent back to their own country. Had not the greater number entered
into the affray without their arms, more extensive mischief would have
resulted. Though I inquired much, I could neither learn the name, or
hear any thing satisfactory of the history of the old man, by whose
interference this affair was brought so timely to an end. Vague, and
probably very extravagant reports, circulated among us respecting him.