KINESASIS'S WONDERFUL STORY--HOW HE WOOED SHAKOONA--THEIR YOUTHFUL
DAYS--MISKOODELL RESCUED FROM THE BEAR--OOSAHMEKOO WITH HIS GOLD--
KINESASIS'S SUCCESSFUL HUNT--HIS FURS STOLEN--MARRIES SHAKOONA--CONFLICT
WITH THE OLD WARRIOR.
The romantic and thoroughly characteristic Indian way in which Kinesasis
had obtained his Indian wife was one that had very much interested Mr
and Mrs Ross. They had known him for many years, and had ever been
pleased with the kindly, helpful way in which he had always treated his
wife, whom he called Shakoona. "Shakoona" means "the snow-white one,"
and those who knew her well, and studied her quiet, gentle manner, said
she was well named. The terrible loss of her children had been such a
shock that her once black, luxuriant tresses had become as white as the
snow, making her name more impressive than ever before.
The story of how he had obtained his wife Kinesasis was induced to tell
one evening at Sagasta-weekee, when fierce winds were howling around the
place and at times seemed to strike with such fury against the house
that they appeared like wild beasts shrieking for their prey. As a
general thing Kinesasis was not very communicative on matters relating
to himself, but as Mrs Ross, who had some knowledge of how he had
obtained his wife--indeed, her mother had a little to do with its
consummation--had asked him to tell it for the pleasure of the boys and
some good friends who had come over for a day or two from the mission,
he could not refuse.
The great log fire roared in the large fireplace in the dining room,
while round it gathered the expectant listeners. Mrs Ross had sent
over to Kinesasis's little home and had brought from thence Shakoona,
his wife. She was now, like Kinesasis, getting up in years, yet she was
the same shy, clever, modest, retiring woman she had ever been, and yet,
as will be seen, there was that latent courage in her that mother's love
can best bring out. The inevitable pipe had to be produced and gravely
smoked by Kinesasis, and those who would smoke with him, ere the talking
could begin. When this ceremony was over Kinesasis, looking kindly at
Shakoona, began:
"We had been children together in the forest. Our fathers' wigwams were
not far apart. With other Indian children we had played in the wild
woods, among the rocks and on the shores of the great lakes. When large
enough to help I had to go and try my skill in setting snares for the
rabbits and partridges and other small game. The trail along which I
used to travel each morning, as I visited my snares and traps, was the
one in which I often found little Shakoona getting sticks for the fire
in her father's wigwam. He was a stern man and cruel, and very fond of
gain.
"The years rolled on, and I was now a hunter, and could use the bow and
arrows of my forefathers, as well as the gun of the white man, which was
now being brought into the country. Shakoona was now grown up, and was
no longer a child. We often met, and let it be known that we loved each
other. Shakoona's mother and the other members of her family were my
friends, and they all had good reason to be my friends, for one summer,
some years before, when Miskoodell was a little child, I saved her from
the paws of a bear. Her mother had gone out to gather moss and dry it
for the winter use. She had Miskoodell strapped in her moss-bag cradle,
with its board at the back. While the mother was at work she left her
little baby girl in her cradle standing up against a tree. As the moss
was not very good just around that spot the mother wandered off quite a
distance to find where it was better. While she was thus hard at work a
large black bear came along from the opposite direction. I happened to
be out in the woods with my bow and arrows shooting partridges, and what
other small game I could find, for I was then only a boy.
"Where this moss grows the ground is very damp, and it is easy to walk
very still. I came along, not being far behind the bear, and there the
first thing I saw was that big bear with that baby, cradle and all, in
his forearms. He was standing up on his hind legs and holding it
awkwardly, like a man does."
This last remark created quite a laugh at Kinesasis's expense; but Mrs
Ross came to his rescue, and declared that the expression was correct.
"For a man," she said, "always awkwardly holds a young baby--the first
one, anyway," she added, as she saw her amused husband laughing at her.
"Go on, Kinesasis. You said last that the bear was standing on his hind
legs, and awkwardly holding the baby, as a man does," said Mrs Ross.
Thus encouraged by the lady whom he so greatly respected, he went on,
and only modified his statement by saying:
"Indian men do, anyway. Well, there I was, not very far behind and well
hid behind the trees, and watched that bear, and think if I had been a
white boy I would have laughed. Strange to say, the baby did not cry,
but seemed pleased to have some one lift it up in the cradle. The bear
would put his big nose in the baby's face very gently, and it seemed to
like to feel this cold nose. All at once I saw by the fine bead work in
the cradle that it was the child of the mother of Shakoona, whom I
loved, the little Miskoodell. Then I thought the mother of the child
must be near, and while the bear is kind to the child, as bears of that
kind always are, it will surely attack the mother when she comes. So,
boylike, I resolved, in my great love for Shakoona, to try and kill that
bear. It was well for me that I had some steel-pointed arrowheads,
obtained at the traders' shop. These I had not been using, as they were
too valuable to risk losing in shooting small game. However, here was
game big enough. So I at once removed the flints from three of my best
arrows, and quickly lashed on these long steel points with sinew.
"All this time the bear was still fooling with that child. He would
turn it round and round, and then sometimes he would set it down, as
though he wanted it to walk off with him. At length, after failing in
this, it seemed to me as if he were going to start off and carry the
child with him. When I saw this I knew that I must now try and shoot
him. So I crawled along on the mossy ground, and dodged from tree to
tree until I was very near him. Once or twice I was going to shoot, but
I was afraid of hitting the child. All at once I saw him drop the
cradle and straighten himself up and listen. He had heard something
that startled him. It was the mother coming back. Now in the distance
I, too, could see her coming. She had a large bundle of moss on her
head which she was supporting with both hands. She had neither gun nor
knife.
"I could wait no longer. I drew my arrow to the head of my bow and, as
the bear was standing up with his side toward me, and his paws were well
up, I aimed for his side, just under the leg, and sent the arrow with
all the force I could. I was perhaps twelve years old, but I well knew,
like Indian boys, how to use the bow. My arrow struck just where I
wanted it to. It entered his side near the heart. With a savage growl
he jumped, but he had not seen or heard me. He only saw and felt the
arrow, and so that was his only enemy, he thought. That is the
advantage of hunting with the bow over the gun. If you can keep hidden,
with bow and arrows the animals are not alarmed at your presence, but
with a noisy gun the animal knows where you are and comes for you. So
it was in this case; the bear only tried to get hold of the arrow that
was sticking into his side. He twisted himself round and round and
tried to pull it out with his paw on the opposite side, but I had sent
it with such force that he could not succeed. The more he worked at it
the more the blood poured out of the wound. He seemed to have forgotten
now all about the child and the coming mother, so I was sure he was
badly hurt. But he was far from dead, and very angry at the arrow, so I
thought I would give him another one. This one I sent into the other
side, as he was moving round and round. When this second one struck him
he seemed to think that he was in the wrong place, and had better start
for his den; and so off he hurried, coming right by where I was hid. I
still had one steel-pointed arrow. With this one ready to shoot I
sprang up before him. I was going to try and shoot him between the
eyes, but at the sight of me he threw up his head, and so I shot the
arrow into his throat. He gave one great spring at me, but it was his
last, and there he lay quite dead. When we opened him we found that one
of my arrows had entered into his heart, and when he made that last
spring at me it did its work. The mother of Shakoona picked up the
cradle in which was Miskoodell, and found her child uninjured. She was
of our race, and therefore did not say much, but I knew that I had made
a friend.
"Some years went by, and brought my presents and asked the father of
Shakoona for her to be my wife, but he was stern and cruel, and appeared
to have forgotten that I had rescued Miskoodell. Indeed, when told the
story he only said. `It was only a girl, anyway, that was rescued.'
Since we have become Christians, thanks to the missionaries, we now
think as much of the girls as of the boys. But Wahbunoo, for that was
his name, spurned my few gifts, for he was very selfish, and said that
he that would receive Shakoona must bring many gifts, and even the
`Keche Shuneou,' the gold of the white man, ere he could have her. This
was bad news, but I saw he was strong in his mind, and so I gathered up
my gifts, which with all Indian ceremony I had laid at his feet, and
without a word I left his wigwam. That night Shakoona and met for a
short time, and we gave our promise to each other, and vowed to be true
to each other, no matter what might happen.
"As I saw it was a large price Wahbunoo wanted, I plunged that fall into
the forest with my traps and plenty of weapons. My object was to hunt
very hard, and so be able in the springtime to bring in so many skins of
the silver and black foxes, with beaver, mink, otter, marten, and other
rich furs, that I could change them for rich presents, or even for gold,
with the traders, and thus cause to look kindly on my gifts and grant me
my wish. To carry out this purpose I went far away, where I was told by
hunters that but few ever hunted and that the game I was after was very
plentiful. The reason why it was so little visited by hunters was that
it was reported that great Windegoos, man-eaters, there haunted the deep
forests, and that many hunters had mysteriously disappeared. They had
gone there with great hopes of success, but had never returned. The
man-eating Windegoos, that were so great and high that they could brush
the trees aside as they walked along, they said, had devoured them. So
it was said and believed by many. So great was my love for Shakoona
that I cared for none of these stories, and was willing to run all risks
for her sake; and so I made the many days' journey and reached those
hunting grounds. All winter I worked hard, and met with good success.
"But while I was far away things were going on at the spot where dwelt
Shakoona that were to my hurt. One day there walked into her father's
tent a great chief having on his face and body the scars of many
battles. But while he was surely a brave warrior he was a man of fierce
temper, and some of the wives he already had showed the marks of his
fierce anger. The top of the head of one of them was hard and dry, for
Oosahmekoo--that was his name--had in his anger, because she had not
quickly prepared his dinner, rushed at her and, circling the spot with
his knife, had torn away the scalp; and still she lived. This
Oosahmekoo was the man who came with his gifts to buy from Wahbunoo the
beautiful young Shakoona. He had gone off with another tribe in the
south, called the Sioux and in one of their warlike excursions they had
attacked a band of white people passing over the prairies. They had
crawled up to them in the darkness of night, and as the watchers had
gone to sleep they had killed them all. Among the pillage and plunder
was a bag of gold. The Sioux then knew not of its worth, so they gave
it to Oosahmekoo, and as he had been much among the fur traders he knew
it was valuable and carefully kept it. He had seen Shakoona as she
industriously did her work, and wanted her for another wife. When he
entered the wigwam his manner was so proud and unceremonious that even
Wahbunoo's temper got the mastery over his love for gold, and he refused
to let Shakoona be the sixth wife of a man who had no more respect for
the custom of the tribe, and would thus act before the father whose girl
he wished to buy. So he had to pick up his bag of gold and leave the
wigwam. His having to leave in this way gave great joy to the mother of
Shakoona, and to her brothers and sisters, especially Miskoodell, who
was now a bright young girl herself.
"But old Oosahmekoo, although repulsed this time, was not to be easily
put off. He saw that he had broken the usages of his tribe in the way
that he had acted, and so, pretending to hide his anger, he found times
to meet the father of Shakoona and offer his gold for her. Without
letting him know the reason of their so doing, his family all seemed
very indignant that Oosahmekoo should have so insulted the old father,
and so they kept him in such a state that he refused the chief's offer,
but not in such a way as to discourage him from persisting in his
efforts.
"The winter passed away, and I prepared to return with my heavy pack of
rich furs. On the trail of many days I reached the hunting lodges of
some of our people, who, being near, had frequently gone to the village.
There they had learned about the efforts of Oosahmekoo to buy my Indian
maiden, and of it they told me. When I heard it my heart got hot, and
clutched my knife and said something, but my friends urged me to be wise
and careful, for the old chief was cruel and powerful. Some of them
with lighter loads hurried on, and one who was my true friend went fast
and quietly told Shakoona that I was coming on the trail. And some one
else had told Oosahmekoo, and had also told him that I was the favourite
hunter of Shakoona, and that I was bringing home sufficient rich furs to
more than equal his gold in value, to lay at the feet of Wahbunoo. The
news given to Shakoona filled her heart with joy, while that given to
the old chief made him furious and eager to destroy me. With the help
of her mother, who remembered how I had killed the bear, and thus likely
saved her life, Shakoona was able to get away, and met me on the trail
long before I entered the village. From her I heard all there was to
know. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me, and said she would
die before she would be the sixth wife of such a man. There we promised
that we would rather die than be separated. We saw that we would have
to be very wise and careful, as my friends had said. I was glad to
learn that all my maiden's family were friendly to me. Only a little
while dare Shakoona stay with me. If her stern father missed her there
would be trouble, even if his love for her was only what she, by her
sale, could bring to him. Before she left me I told her that in due
form to-morrow I would enter her father's wigwam and open my pack of
rich furs before him, and by their value would win his consent. Then
she kissed me and quickly hurried back again. That night following was
a bad night for me."
For a time Kinesasis paused in his narrative, and seemed, Indian though
he was, to be deeply moved, while his aged wife buried her head in her
blanket and bowed to the floor. Mr Ross, who knew his story, respected
the old man's feelings, and for a short time said and did nothing; then
he filled the calumet and gave it to him. The tobacco and the rest
quieted his perturbed spirits, and handing back the pipe he continued
his most fascinating story:
"Yes, that night I entered the village was indeed a bad night for me.
Evil eyes had been on Shakoona. Cunning steps had followed her, and
sharp ears had heard enough of our story to find out what I was going to
do next day with my valuable furs that I had been eight long moons in
hunting. As I entered the outskirts of the village I was met by a young
Indian with the word that the wigwam of my relatives was cold and empty,
as they had not yet returned from their hunting grounds, which were in
an opposite direction from the way in which I had come. Very cordial
seemed the invitation of that man for me to rest that night in his
wigwam, which was a large one, being made of many dressed buffalo skins
sewed together.
"Without any distrust I accepted his invitation, as was the manner of
our people, and was glad to unstrap my heavy load of furs, as well as my
gun and traps and blanket. With much more attention than is generally
shown to one thus coming in, this Indian helped me in various ways.
With a good deal of show he hung up my gun and traps for me, and placed
my pack of furs tightly back against the leather wall of the wigwam. In
the meantime fish and venison were brought in, and a good supper was
prepared and eaten. Afterward we smoked and talked for some time, and
then prepared to sleep. Noticing that the wind outside was rising, he
showed me a place where I could spread my blanket where there would be
no draft, but it was away from my pack of furs. At first I thought I
would bring my furs from the place where they had been put and place
them at my head, but this I saw would give offence, and now as some
young children were lying down to sleep near them, there was not enough
room for me. Still a little fearful, I made an excuse and stepped out
of the wigwam for a minute. There I saw that the snow was well piled up
against the leather wall all around. This quieted my fears, and so I
returned into the wigwam, and being very weary was soon fast asleep. In
the morning my furs were gone! A thief in the night had cut through the
leather, making a hole so large that he could easily and noiselessly
lift out my pack of furs. He had left the upper part uncut, so that as
quickly as he had obtained the pack he could let the leather down again
and thus cover up the hole. For fear the wind should get in and disturb
the inmates, he had quietly laid a large deerskin over the whole place
on the outside. I was in a sad state the next morning, but I kept my
lips closed and said but little. The Indian family were much excited
and angry at the theft. The young Indian who had invited me in made a
greater ado than anyone. I suspected him at once of being the one who
had robbed me, but I had then no evidence, and so carefully held my
tongue. But I thought a great deal, and in time I found out that he was
in the plot.
"What to do I knew not. However, refusing to again eat under the wigwam
where I had been so robbed, I took my gun, blanket, and traps and pushed
on to the wigwam of my friends, and to my surprise found them in it, and
there they had been for some days. Then I knew that that young Indian
was an enemy. To my friends I told of my success, and of my loss. We
set about the recovery of them at once. Runners were sent to every
trading post describing the contents of the packs and telling the
traders the circumstances of the robbery. There was great indignation.
Such robberies are very rare. If the thieves are found out they are
generally quickly poisoned by the conjurers of the tribe. That is one
of the things they are expected to do. A robber of traps or furs is
soon poisoned. Then the traders themselves are down on these things.
So the story of the theft was soon known, but the furs were not
recovered until a long time after.
"Wahbunoo was very cold and repellent. He would not believe my story,
and so refused to have me come to his wigwam. So Shakoona and I had to
meet when we could, and that was not often, for the father was cruel and
Oosahmekoo had many spies. Still, we had many friends. Miskoodell, the
little sister, was sharp and shrewd, and helped us greatly by warning us
of danger. So did her brother, Netahwatee. He was a good hunter, and
had friends who had seen the furs. He had been on the alert, and had
found out that the young Indian who had invited me into his wigwam had,
during the winter, hung around the tent and had asked Shakoona to be his
wife. She had repelled him with scorn, and Netahwatee had told him that
she was fond of Kinesasis, and that even now he was away in the forest
hunting, to bring in sufficient rich furs to buy the consent of their
father. At this news from Netahwatee, he arose and left the tent, but
he ground his teeth as he went out. After that he was often seen in
earnest talk with Oosahmekoo, the old chief, and it was the belief of
many that they had been the ones who had planned the stealing of the
furs. But they were cunning, and so covered up the tracks that a long
time passed ere the truth came out. But, although some of the family
were friendly toward me, the father of Shakoona turned more and more
against us. The gold of the old chief was offered again and again, and
at length I heard that there was a likelihood that he would yield,
although Shakoona still declared that she would throw herself from the
cliff into the lake rather than marry him. And this I think she would
have done, for we loved each other, and do still."
Here the old man stooped over and, tenderly lifting up the head of his
aged wife, kissed her on the forehead.
"One day some little boys out hunting rabbits among the great rocks
overheard some earnest talking. At first they were frightened, and were
about running home when one of them, who was Shakoona's youngest
brother, proposed that they creep to the top of the rocks and try and
see who the talkers were on the other side. Noiselessly they crawled to
the top, and then as they peeked over whom should they see but Wahbunoo
and Oosahmekoo in earnest talk? They saw the chief with a fire bag that
seemed heavy and saw him offer it to Wahbunoo, who took it and held it.
Then the little boys slid down the rocks and returned to the tents.
Netahwatee's little brother told what he had seen, and the brother told
his mother and Miskoodell. They talked it over, and Miskoodell was sent
to warn us of what was being done.
"So that very night we quietly left the and hurried to a place where
Netahwatee, who had gone on some hours before, met us with a white man,
a missionary. He was pleased to hear from Netahwatee that there was an
Indian couple who wanted to be married by the Book, in the Christian
way, and not in the old pagan Indian manner; but," said Kinesasis, with
a bit of a twinkle in his eye, "he did think it was a queer idea of ours
that we wanted to be married out there in the forest by moonlight.
However, as we had with us what he called witnesses, he married us. We
did not then return to the village, but went off with some friendly
relatives at a trading post where the Indians were all Christians.
Netahwatee and the others who had been with us went back at once and
told how we had met the missionary and had been married with the Book.
Strange to say, when Wahbunoo heard this he said he did not care, and
would not oppose us as we were married by the Book. He was very
superstitious, and was afraid that evil would come to him if he seemed
to be angry with anyone who had had anything to do with the Book.
"It was very different, however, with Oosahmekoo, the old chief. He was
wild with anger. He made many threats. He was not as cunning as he
generally was, and so he told his plans to get revenge. He was going to
waylay me and kill me on the trail. Some of my friends overheard his
threats, and a swift runner put me on my guard. I felt that my youth
was a match for his years, and then I had won my loved Shakoona. So I
had no fear. I left my wife among friends, and started on the return
trail. We met in conflict, and I was not hurt. He was quietly buried
the next day."
Here Kinesasis ceased. He could say no more that night, the memory of
the battle came up so vividly before him, although many years had passed
away since it had occurred. Since then he and his old wife had become
Christians. He paused for an instant, and then went over to the place
where on the floor the heroine of his story, his true little wife, had
sat during the long recital. Then tucking her arm in his, as lovingly
and as affectionately as any white man could have done, they quickly
slipped out of the house and returned to their own little dwelling
place.