IT was midsummer. Everything that the Santee Sioux had undertaken during
the year had been unusually successful. The spring fur-hunters had been
fortunate, and the heavy winter had proved productive of much
maple sugar. The women’s patches of maize and potatoes were already
sufficiently advanced to use. The Wahpetonwan band of Sioux, the
“Dwellers among the Leaves,” were fully awakened to the fact that it was
almost time for the midsummer festivities of the old, wild days.
The invitations were bundles of tobacco, and acceptances were sent back
from the various bands--the “Light Lodges”, “Dwellers back from the
River,” and many others, in similar fashion. Blue Earth, chief of the
“Dwellers among the Leaves,” was the host.
There were to be many different kinds of athletic games; indeed, the
festival was something like a State fair, in that there were many side
shows and competitive events. For instance, supposing that (Miss) White
Rabbit should desire to give a “maidens’ feast,” she would employ a
crier to go among the different bands announcing the fact in a sing-song
manner:
“Miss White Rabbit will receive her maiden friends to-day at noon,
inside of the circular encampment of the Kaposia band.”
Again, should (Mr.) Sleepy Eye wish to have his child’s ears
pierced publicly, he would have to give away a great deal of savage
wealth--namely, otter, bear and beaver skins and ponies--or the child
would not be considered as belonging to a family in good standing.
But the one all-important event of the occasion was the lacrosse game,
for which it had been customary to select those two bands which could
boast the greater number of fast runners.
The Wahpetonwan village on the banks of the Minnesota river was alive
with the newly-arrived guests and the preparations for the coming event.
Meat of wild game had been put away with much care during the previous
fall in anticipation of this feast. There was wild rice and the choicest
of dried venison that had been kept all winter, as well as freshly dug
turnips, ripe berries and an abundance of fresh meat.
Along the edge of the woods the teepees were pitched in groups or
semi-circles, each band distinct from the others. The teepee of Mankato
or Blue Earth was pitched in a conspicuous spot. Just over the entrance
was painted in red and yellow a picture of a pipe, and directly opposite
this the rising sun. The painting was symbolic of welcome and good will
to men under the bright sun.
A meeting was held to appoint some “medicine man” to make the balls
that were to be used in the lacrosse contest; and presently the herald
announced that this honor had been conferred upon old Chankpee-yuhah,
or “Keeps the Club,” while every other man of his profession was
disappointed. He was a powerful man physically, who had apparently won
the confidence of the people by his fine personal appearance and by
working upon superstitious minds.
Towards evening he appeared in the circle, leading by the hand a boy
about four years old. Closely the little fellow observed every motion
of the man; nothing escaped his vigilant black eyes, which seemed
constantly to grow brighter and larger, while his exuberant glossy black
hair was plaited and wound around his head like that of a Celestial. He
wore a bit of swan’s down in each ear, which formed a striking contrast
with the child’s complexion. Further than this, the boy was painted
according to the fashion of the age. He held in his hands a miniature
bow and arrows.
The medicine man drew himself up in an admirable attitude, and proceeded
to make his short speech:
“Wahpetonwans, you boast that you run down the elk; you can outrun the
Ojibways. Before you all, I dedicate to you this red ball. Kaposias, you
claim that no one has a lighter foot than you; you declare that you can
endure running a whole day without water. To you I dedicate this black
ball. Either you or the Leaf-Dwellers will have to drop your eyes and
bow your head when the game is over. I wish to announce that if the
Wahpetonwans should win, this little warrior shall bear the name Ohiyesa
(winner) through life; but if the Light Lodges should win, let the name
be given to any child appointed by them.”
The ground selected for the great final game was on a narrow strip of
land between a lake and the river. It was about three quarters of a mile
long and a quarter of a mile in width. The spectators had already ranged
themselves all along the two sides, as well as at the two ends, which
were somewhat higher than the middle. The soldiers appointed to keep
order furnished much of the entertainment of the day. They painted
artistically and tastefully, according to the Indian fashion, not only
their bodies but also their ponies and clubs. They were so strict in
enforcing the laws that no one could venture with safety within a few
feet of the limits of the field.
Now all of the minor events and feasts, occupying several days’ time,
had been observed. Heralds on ponies’ backs announced that all who
intended to participate in the final game were requested to repair to
the ground; also that if any one bore a grudge against another, he was
implored to forget his ill-feeling until the contest should be over.
The most powerful men were stationed at the half-way ground, while
the fast runners were assigned to the back. It was an impressive
spectacle--a fine collection of agile forms, almost stripped of garments
and painted in wild imitation of the rainbow and sunset sky on human
canvas. Some had undertaken to depict the Milky Way across their tawny
bodies, and one or two made a bold attempt to reproduce the lightning.
Others contented themselves with painting the figure of some fleet
animal or swift bird on their muscular chests.
The coiffure of the Sioux lacrosse player has often been unconsciously
imitated by the fashionable hair-dressers of modern times. Some banged
and singed their hair; others did a little more by adding powder. The
Grecian knot was located on the wrong side of the head, being tied
tightly over the forehead. A great many simply brushed back their long
locks and tied them with a strip of otter skin.
At the middle of the ground were stationed four immense men,
magnificently formed. A fifth approached this group, paused a moment,
and then threw his head back, gazed up into the sky in the manner of a
cock and gave a smooth, clear operatic tone. Instantly the little black
ball went up between the two middle rushers, in the midst of yells,
cheers and war-whoops. Both men endeavored to catch it in the air;
but alas! each interfered with the other; then the guards on each side
rushed upon them. For a time, a hundred lacrosse sticks vied with each
other, and the wriggling human flesh and paint were all one could see
through the cloud of dust. Suddenly there shot swiftly through the
air toward the south, toward the Kaposias’ goal, the ball. There was
a general cheer from their adherents, which echoed back from the white
cliff on the opposite side of the Minnesota.
As the ball flew through the air, two adversaries were ready to receive
it. The Kaposia quickly met the ball, but failed to catch it in his
netted bag, for the other had swung his up like a flash. Thus it struck
the ground, but had no opportunity to bound up when a Wahpeton pounced
upon it like a cat and slipped out of the grasp of his opponents. A
mighty cheer thundered through the air.
The warrior who had undertaken to pilot the little sphere was risking
much, for he must dodge a host of Kaposias before he could gain any
ground. He was alert and agile; now springing like a panther, now
leaping like a deer over a stooping opponent who tried to seize him
around the waist. Every opposing player was upon his heels, while those
of his own side did all in their power to clear the way for him. But it
was all in vain. He only gained fifty paces.
Thus the game went. First one side, then the other would gain an
advantage, and then it was lost, until the herald proclaimed that it was
time to change the ball. No victory was in sight for either side.
After a few minutes’ rest, the game was resumed. The red ball was now
tossed in the air in the usual way. No sooner had it descended than
one of the rushers caught it and away it went northward; again it was
fortunate, for it was advanced by one of the same side. The scene was
now one of the wildest excitement and confusion. At last, the northward
flight of the ball was checked for a moment and a desperate struggle
ensued. Cheers and war-whoops became general, such as were never equaled
in any concourse of savages, and possibly nowhere except at a college
game of football.
The ball had not been allowed to come to the surface since it reached
this point, for there were more than a hundred men who scrambled for
it. Suddenly a warrior shot out of the throng like the ball itself!
Then some of the players shouted: “Look out for Antelope! Look out for
Antelope!” But it was too late. The little sphere had already nestled
into Antelope’s palm and that fleetest of Wahpetons had thrown down his
lacrosse stick and set a determined eye upon the northern goal.
Such a speed! He had cleared almost all the opponents’ guards--there
were but two more. These were exceptional runners of the Kaposias. As
he approached them in his almost irresistible speed, every savage heart
thumped louder in the Indian’s dusky bosom. In another moment there
would be a defeat for the Kaposias or a prolongation of the game. The
two men, with a determined look approached their foe like two panthers
prepared to spring; yet he neither slackened his speed nor deviated from
his course. A crash--a mighty shout!--the two Kaposias collided, and the
swift Antelope had won the laurels!
The turmoil and commotion at the victors’ camp were indescribable. A
few beats of a drum were heard, after which the criers hurried along the
lines, announcing the last act to be performed at the camp of the “Leaf
Dwellers.”
The day had been a perfect one. Every event had been a success; and, as
a matter of course, the old people were happy, for they largely profited
by these occasions. Within the circle formed by the general assembly sat
in a group the members of the common council. Blue Earth arose, and in a
few appropriate and courteous remarks assured his guests that it was
not selfishness that led his braves to carry off the honors of the last
event, but that this was a friendly contest in which each band must
assert its prowess. In memory of this victory, the boy would now receive
his name. A loud “Ho-o-o” of approbation reverberated from the edge of
the forest upon the Minnesota’s bank.
Half frightened, the little fellow was now brought into the circle,
looking very much as if he were about to be executed. Cheer after cheer
went up for the awe-stricken boy. Chankpee-yuhah, the medicine man,
proceeded to confer the name.
“Ohiyesa (or Winner) shall be thy name henceforth. Be brave, be patient
and thou shalt always win! Thy name is Ohivesa.”