It was not long before Austin, Brian, and Basil were again listening
to the interesting accounts given by their friend, the hunter; and it
would have been a difficult point to decide whether the listeners or
the narrator derived most pleasure from their occupation. Austin began
without delay to speak of the aborigines of North America.
"We want to know," said he, "a little more about what these people
were, and when they were first found out."
_Hunter._ When America was first discovered, the inhabitants, though
for the most part partaking of one general character, were not without
variety. The greater part, as I told you, were, both in hot and cold
latitudes, red men with black hair, and without beards. They, perhaps,
might have been divided into four parts: the Mexicans and Peruvians,
who were, to a considerable extent, civilized; the Caribs, who
inhabited the fertile soil and luxuriant clime of the West Indies; the
Esquimaux, who were then just the same people as they are now, living
in the same manner by fishing; and the Red Men, or North American
Indians.
_Austin._ Then the Esquimaux are not Red Indians.
_Hunter._ No; they are more like the people who live in Lapland, and
in the North of Asia; and for this reason, and because the distance
across Behring's Straits is so short, it is thought they came from
Asia, and are a part of the same people. The red men are, however,
different; and as we agreed that I should tell you about the present
race of them, perhaps I may as well proceed.
_Austin._ Yes. Please to tell us first of their wigwams, and their
villages, and how they live.
_Brian._ And what they eat, and what clothes they wear.
_Basil._ And how they talk to one another.
_Austin._ Yes; and all about their spears and tomahawks.
_Hunter._ The wigwams of the Indians are of different kinds: some are
extremely simple, being formed of high sticks or poles, covered with
turf or the bark of trees; while others are very handsome. The Sioux,
the Blackfeet, and the Crows, form their wigwams nearly in the same
manner; that is, by sewing together the skins of buffaloes, after
properly dressing them, and making them into the form of a tent. This
covering is then supported by poles. The tent has a hole at the top,
to let out the smoke, and to let in the light.
_Austin._ Ay, that is a better way of making a wigwam than covering
over sticks with turf.
_Hunter._ The wigwams, or lodges, of the Mandans are round. A circular
foundation is dug about two feet deep; timbers six feet high are set
up all around it, and on these are placed other long timbers, slanting
inwards, and fastened together in the middle, like a tent, leaving
space for light and for the smoke to pass. This tent-like roof is
supported by beams and upright posts, and it is covered over outwardly
by willow boughs and a thick coating of earth; then comes the last
covering of hard tough clay. The sun bakes this, and long use makes it
solid. The outside of a Mandan lodge is almost as useful as the
inside; for there the people sit, stand, walk, and take the air. These
lodges are forty, fifty, or sixty feet wide.
_Brian._ The Mandan wigwam is the best of all.
_Hunter._ Wigwams, like those of the Mandans, which are always in the
same place, and are not intended to be removed, are more substantial
than such as may be erected and taken down at pleasure. Some of the
wigwams of the Crow Indians, covered as they are with skins dressed
almost white, and ornamented with paint, porcupine quills and
scalp-locks, are very beautiful.
_Austin._ Yes; they must look even better than the Mandan lodges, and
they can be taken down and carried away.
_Hunter._ It would surprise you to witness the manner in which an
encampment of Crows or Sioux strike their tents or wigwams. I have
seen several hundred lodges all standing; in two or three minutes
after, all were flat upon the prairie.
_Austin._ Why, it must be like magic.
_Hunter._ The time has been fixed, preparations made, the signal
given, and all at once the poles and skin coverings have been taken
down.
_Brian._ How do they carry the wigwams away with them?
_Hunter._ The poles are dragged along by horses and by dogs; the
smaller ends being fastened over their shoulders, while on the larger
ends, dragging along the ground, are placed the coverings, rolled up
together. The dogs pull along two poles, each with a load, while the
horses are taxed according to their strength. Hundreds of horses and
dogs, thus dragging their burdens, may be seen slowly moving over the
prairie with attendant Indians on horseback, and women and girls on
foot heavily laden.
_Brian._ What a sight! and to what length they must stretch out; such
a number of them!
_Hunter._ Some of their villages are large, and fortified with two
rows of high poles round them. A Pawnee Pict village on the Red River,
with its five or six hundred beehive-like wigwams of poles, thatched
with prairie grass, much pleased me. Round the village there were
fields of maize, melons and pumpkins growing.
The Indians hunt, fish, and some of them raise corn for food; but the
flesh of the buffalo is what they most depend upon.
_Austin._ How do the Indians cook their food?
_Hunter._ They broil or roast meat and fish, by laying it on the fire,
or on sticks raised above the fire. They boil meat, also, making of it
a sort of soup. I have often seated myself, squatting down on a robe
spread for me, to a fine joint of buffalo ribs, admirably roasted;
with, perhaps, a pudding-like paste of the prairie turnip, flavoured
with buffalo berries.
_Austin._ That is a great deal like an English dinner--roast beef and
a pudding.
_Hunter._ The Indians eat a great deal of green corn, pemican, and
marrow fat. The pemican is buffalo meat, dried hard, and pounded in a
wooden mortar. Marrow fat is what is boiled out of buffalo bones; it
is usually kept in bladders. They eat, also, the flesh of the deer and
other animals: that of the dog is reserved for feasts and especial
occasions. They have, also, beans and peas, peaches, melons and
strawberries, pears, pumpkins, chinkapins, walnuts and chestnuts.
These things they can get when settled in their villages; but when
wandering, or on their war parties, they take up with what they can
find. They never eat salt with their food.
_Basil._ And what kind of clothes do they wear?
_Hunter._ Principally skins, unless they trade with the whites, in
which case they buy clothes of different kinds. Some wear long hair,
some cut their hair off and shave the head. Some dress themselves
with very few ornaments, but others have very many. Shall I describe
to you the full dress of _Mah-to-toh-pa_, "the four bears."
_Austin._ Oh, yes; every thing belonging to him.
_Hunter._ You must imagine, then, that he is standing up before you,
while I describe him, and that he is not a little proud of his costly
attire.
_Austin._ I fancy that I can see him now.
_Hunter._ His robe was the soft skin of a young buffalo bull. On one
side was the fur; on the other, were pictured the victories he had
won. His shirt, or tunic, was made of the skins of mountain sheep,
ornamented with porcupine quills and paintings of his battles. From
the edge of his shoulder-band hung the long black locks that he had
taken with his own hand from his enemies. His head-dress was of
war-eagle quills, falling down his back to his very feet; on the top
of his head stood a pair of buffalo horns, shaven thin, and polished
beautifully.
_Brian._ What a figure he must have made!
_Hunter._ His leggings were tight, decorated with porcupine quills and
scalp-locks: they were made of the finest deer skins, and fastened to
a belt round the waist. His mocassins, or shoes, were buckskin,
embroidered in the richest manner; and his necklace, the skin of an
otter, having on it fifty huge claws, or rather talons, of the grizzly
bear.
_Austin._ What a desperate fellow! Bold as a lion, I will be bound for
it. Had he no weapons about him?
_Hunter._ Oh, yes! He held in his left hand a two-edged spear of
polished steel, with a shaft of tough ash, and ornamented with tufts
of war-eagle quills. His bow, beautifully white, was formed of bone,
strengthened with the sinews of deer, drawn tight over the back of it;
the bow-string was a three-fold twist of sinews. Seldom had its twang
been heard, without an enemy or a buffalo falling to the earth; and
rarely had that lance been urged home, without finding its way to some
victim's heart.
_Austin._ Yes; I thought he was a bold fellow.
_Hunter._ He had a costly shield of the hide of a buffalo, stiffened
with glue and fringed round with eagle quills and antelope hoofs; and
a quiver of panther skin, well filled with deadly shafts. Some of
their points were flint, and some were steel, and most of them were
stained with blood. He carried a pipe, a tobacco sack, a belt, and a
medicine bag; and in his right hand he held a war club like a sling,
being made of a round stone wrapped up in a raw hide and fastened to a
tough stick handle.
_Austin._ What sort of a pipe was it?
_Basil._ What was in his tobacco sack?
_Brian._ You did not say what his belt was made of.
_Hunter._ His pipe was made of red pipe-stone, and it had a stem of
young ash, full three feet long, braided with porcupine quills in the
shape of animals and men. It was also ornamented with the beaks of
woodpeckers, and hairs from the tail of the white buffalo. One thing I
ought not to omit; on the lower half of the pipe, which was painted
red, were notched the snows, or years of his life. By this simple
record of their lives, the red men of the forest and the prairie may
be led to something like reflection.
_Basil._ What was in his tobacco sack?
_Hunter._ His flint and steel, for striking a light, and his tobacco,
which was nothing more than the bark of the red willow. His medicine
bag was beaver skin, adorned with ermine and hawks' bills; and his
belt, in which he carried his tomahawk and scalping-knife, was formed
of tough buckskin, firmly fastened round his loins.
_Austin._ Please to tell us about the scalping knife. It must be a
fearful instrument.
_Hunter._ All instruments of cruelty, vengeance and destruction are
fearful, whether in savage or civilized life. What are we, that wrath
and revenge and covetousness should be fostered in our hearts! What is
man, that he should shed the blood of his brother! Before the Indians
had dealing with the whites, they made their own weapons: their bows
were strung with the sinews of deer; their arrows were headed with
flint; their knives were sharpened bone; their war-clubs were formed
of wood, cut into different shapes, and armed with sharp stones; and
their tomahawks, or hatchets, were of the same materials: but now,
many of their weapons, such as hatchets, spear-heads, and knives, are
made of iron, being procured from the whites, in exchange for the
skins they obtain in the chase. A scalping-knife is oftentimes no more
than a rudely formed butcher's knife, with one edge, and the Indians
wear them in beautiful scabbards under their belts.
_Austin._ How does an Indian scalp his enemy?
_Hunter._ The hair on the crown of the head is seized with the left
hand; the knife makes a circle round it through the skin, and then the
hair and skin together, sometimes with the hand, and sometimes with
the teeth, are forcibly torn off! The scalp may be, perhaps, as broad
as my hand.
_Brian._ Terrible! Scalping would be sure to kill a man, I suppose.
_Hunter._ Not always. Scalps are war trophies, and are generally
regarded as proofs of the death of an enemy; but an Indian, inflamed
with hatred and rage, and excited by victory, will not always wait
till his foe has expired before he scalps him. The hair, as well as
the scalp, of a fallen foe is carried off by the victorious Indian,
and with it his clothes are afterwards ornamented. It is said, that,
during the old French war, an Indian slew a Frenchman who wore a wig.
The warrior stooped down, and seized the hair for the purpose of
securing the scalp. To his great astonishment, the wig came off,
leaving the head bare. The Indian held it up, and examining it with
great wonder, exclaimed, in broken English, "Dat one big lie."
_Brian._ How the Indian would stare!
_Basil._ He had never seen a wig before, I dare say.
_Hunter._ The arms of Indians, offensive and defensive, are, for the
most part, those which I have mentioned--the club, the tomahawk, the
bow and arrow, the spear, the shield and the scalping-knife. But the
use of fire-arms is gradually extending among them. Some of their
clubs are merely massy pieces of hard, heavy wood, nicely fitted to
the hand, with, perhaps, a piece of hard bone stuck in the head part;
others are curiously carved into fanciful and uncouth shapes; while,
occasionally, may be seen a frightful war-club, knobbed all over with
brass nails, with a steel blade at the end of it, a span long.
_Austin._ What a terrible weapon, when wielded by a savage!
[Illustration: _a_, scalping-knife. _b_, ditto, in sheath.
_c_, _d_, war-clubs. _e_, _e_, tomahawks. _g_, whip.]
_Brian._ I would not go among the Indians, with their clubs and
tomahawks, for a thousand dollars.
_Basil._ Nor would I: they would be sure to kill me.
_Hunter._ The tomahawk is often carved in a strange manner; and some
of the bows and arrows are admirable. The bow formed of bone and
strong sinews is a deadly weapon; and some Indians have boasted of
having sent an arrow from its strings right through the body of a
buffalo.
_Austin._ What a strong arm that Indian must have had! Through a
buffalo's body!
_Hunter._ The quiver is made of the skin of the panther, or the otter;
and some of the arrows it contains are usually poisoned.
_Brian._ Why, then, an arrow is sure to kill a person, if it hits him.
_Hunter._ It is not likely that an enemy, badly wounded with a
poisoned arrow, will survive; for the head is set on loosely, in order
that, when the arrow is withdrawn, the poisoned barb may remain in the
wound. How opposed are these cruel stratagems of war to the precepts
of the gospel of peace, which are "Love your enemies, bless them that
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which
despitefully use you, and persecute you!"
_Basil._ What will you do, Austin, if you go among the Indians, and
they shoot you with a poisoned arrow?
_Austin._ Oh, I shall carry a shield. You heard that the Indians carry
shields.
_Hunter._ The shields of the Crows and Blackfeet are made of the thick
skin of the buffalo's neck: they are made as hard as possible, by
smoking them, and by putting glue upon them obtained from the hoofs of
animals; so that they will not only turn aside an arrow, but even a
musket ball, if they are held a little obliquely.
_Austin._ There, Basil! You see that I shall be safe, after all; for I
shall carry a large shield, and the very hardest I can get anywhere.
_Hunter._ Their spears have long, slender handles, with steel heads:
the handles are a dozen feet long, or more, and very skilful are they
in the use of them; and yet, such is the dread of the Indian when
opposed to a white man, that, in spite of his war horse and his eagle
plumes, his bow and well-filled quiver, his long lance, tomahawk and
scalping-knife, his self-possession forsakes him. He has heard, if not
seen, what the white man has done; and he thinks there is no standing
before him. If he can surprise him, he will; but, generally, the red
man fears to grapple with a pale face in the strife of war, for he
considers him clothed with an unknown power.
_Austin._ I should have thought that an Indian would be more than a
match for a white man.
_Hunter._ So long as he can crawl in the grass or brushwood, and steal
silently upon him by surprise, or send a shaft from his bow from
behind a tree, or a bullet from his rifle from the brow of a bluff, he
has an advantage; but, when he comes face to face with the white man,
he is superstitiously afraid of him. The power of the white man, in
war, is that of bravery and skill; the power of the red man consists
much in stratagem and surprise. Fifty white men, armed, on an open
plain, would beat off a hundred red men.
_Brian._ Why is it that the red men are always fighting against one
another? They are all brothers, and what is the use of their killing
one another?
_Hunter._ Most of the battles, among the Indians, are brought about by
the belief that they are bound to revenge an injury to their tribe.
There can be no peace till revenge is taken; they are almost always
retaliating one on another. Then, again, the red men have too often
been tempted, bribed, and, in some cases, forced to fight for the
white man.
_Brian._ That is very sad, though.
_Hunter._ It is sad; but when you say red men are brothers, are not
white men brothers too? And have they not been instructed in the
truths of Christianity, and the gospel of peace, which red men have
not, and yet how ready they are to draw the sword! War springs from
sinful passions; and until sin is subdued in the human heart, war will
ever be congenial to it.
_Austin._ What do the Indians call the sun?
_Hunter._ The different tribes speak different languages, and
therefore you must tell me which of them you mean.
_Austin._ Oh! I forgot that. Tell me what any two or three of the
tribes call it.
_Hunter._ A Sioux calls it _wee_; a Mandan, _menahka_; a Tuscarora,
_hiday_; and a Blackfoot, _cristeque ahtose_.
_Austin._ The Blackfoot is the hardest to remember. I should not like
to learn that language.
_Brian._ But you must learn it, if you go among them; or else you will
not understand a word they say.
_Austin._ Well! I shall manage it somehow or other. Perhaps some of
them may know English; or we may make motions one to another. What do
they call the moon?
_Hunter._ A Blackfoot calls it _coque ahtose_; a Sioux, _on wee_; a
Riccaree, _wetah_; a Mandan, _esto menahka_; and a Tuscarora,
_autsunyehaw_.
_Brian._ I wish you joy of the languages you have to learn, Austin, if
you become a wood-ranger, or a trapper. Remember, you must learn them
all; and you will have quite enough to do, I warrant you.
_Austin._ Oh! I shall learn a little at a time. We cannot do every
thing at once. What do the red men call a buffalo?
_Hunter._ In Riccaree, it is _watash_; in Mandan, _ptemday_; in
Tuscarora, _hohats_; in Blackfoot, _eneuh_.
_Basil._ What different names they give them!
_Hunter._ Yes. In some instances they are alike, but generally they
differ. If you were to say "How do you do?" as is the custom with us;
you must say among the Indians, _How ke che wa?_ _Chee na e num?_
_Dati youthay its?_ or, _Tush hah thah mah kah hush?_ according to the
language in which you spoke. I hardly think these languages would suit
you so well as your own.
_Brian._ They would never suit me; but Austin must learn every word of
them.
_Austin._ Please to tell us how to count ten, and then we will ask you
no more about languages. Let it be in the language of the Riccarees.
_Hunter._ Very well. _Asco, pitco, tow wit, tchee tish, tchee hoo,
tcha pis, to tcha pis, to tcha pis won, nah e ne won, nah en._ I will
just add, that _weetah_, is twenty; _nahen tchee hoo_, is fifty; _nah
en te tcha pis won_, is eighty; _shok tan_, is a hundred; and _sho tan
tera hoo_, is a thousand.
_Austin._ Can the Indians write?
_Hunter._ Oh no; they have no use for pen and ink, excepting some of
the tribes near the whites. In many of the different treaties which
have been made between the white and the red man, the latter has put,
instead of his name, a rough drawing of the animal or thing after
which he had been called. If the Indian chief was named "War hatchet,"
he made a rough outline of a tomahawk. If his name was "The great
buffalo" then the outline of a buffalo was his signature.
_Basil._ How curious!
_Hunter._ The _Big turtle_, the _Fish_, the _Scalp_, the _Arrow_, and
the _Big canoe_, all draw the form represented by their names in the
same manner. If you were to see these signatures, you would not think
these Indian chiefs had ever taken lessons in drawing.
_Brian._ I dare say their fish, and arrows, and hatchets, and turtles,
and buffaloes, are comical figures enough.
_Hunter._ Yes: but the hands that make these feeble scrawls are
strong, when they wield the bow or the tomahawk. A white man in the
Indian country, according to a story that is told, met a Shawnese
riding a horse, which he recognised as his own, and claimed it as his
property. The Indian calmly answered: "Friend, after a little while I
will call on you at your house, when we will talk this matter over." A
few days afterwards, the Indian came to the white man's house, who
insisted on having his horse restored to him. The other then told him:
"Friend, the horse which you claim belonged to my uncle, who lately
died; according to the Indian custom, I have become heir to all his
property." The white man not being satisfied, and renewing his demand,
the Indian immediately took a coal from the fire-place, and made two
striking figures on the door of the house; the one representing the
white man taking the horse, and the other himself in the act of
scalping him: then he coolly asked the trembling claimant whether he
could read this Indian writing. The matter was thus settled at once,
and the Indian rode off.
_Austin._ Ay; the white man knew that he had better give up the horse
than be scalped.
After the hunter had told Austin and his brothers that he should be
sure to have something new to tell them on their next visit, they took
their departure, having quite enough to occupy their minds till they
reached home.
[Illustration]