THE Indian boy was a prince of the wilderness. He had but very little
work to do during the period of his boyhood. His principal occupation
was the practice of a few simple arts in warfare and the chase. Aside
from this, he was master of his time.
Whatever was required of us boys was quickly performed: then the field
was clear for our games and plays. There was always keen competition
among us. We felt very much as our fathers did in hunting and war--each
one strove to excel all the others.
It is true that our savage life was a precarious one, and full of
dreadful catastrophes; however, this never prevented us from enjoying
our sports to the fullest extent. As we left our teepees in the morning,
we were never sure that our scalps would not dangle from a pole in the
afternoon! It was an uncertain life, to be sure. Yet we observed that
the fawns skipped and played happily while the gray wolves might be
peeping forth from behind the hills, ready to tear them limb from limb.
Our sports were molded by the life and customs of our people; indeed, we
practiced only what we expected to do when grown. Our games were feats
with the bow and arrow, foot and pony races, wrestling, swimming and
imitation of the customs and habits of our fathers. We had sham fights
with mud balls and willow wands; we played lacrosse, made war upon bees,
shot winter arrows (which were used only in that season), and coasted
upon the ribs of animals and buffalo robes.
No sooner did the boys get together than, as a usual thing, they divided
into squads and chose sides; then a leading arrow was shot at random
into the air. Before it fell to the ground a volley from the bows of the
participants followed. Each player was quick to note the direction and
speed of the leading arrow and he tried to send his own at the same
speed and at an equal height, so that when it fell it would be closer to
the first than any of the others.
It was considered out of place to shoot by first sighting the object
aimed at. This was usually impracticable in actual life, because the
object was almost always in motion, while the hunter himself was often
upon the back of a pony at full gallop. Therefore, it was the off-hand
shot that the Indian boy sought to master. There was another game with
arrows that was characterized by gambling, and was generally confined to
the men.
The races were an every-day occurrence. At noon the boys were usually
gathered by some pleasant sheet of water and as soon as the ponies were
watered, they were allowed to graze for an hour or two, while the boys
stripped for their noonday sports. A boy might say to some other whom he
considered his equal:
“I can’t run; but I will challenge you to fifty paces.”
A former hero, when beaten, would often explain his defeat by saying: “I
drank too much water.”
Boys of all ages were paired for a “spin,” and the little red men
cheered on their favorites with spirit.
As soon as this was ended, the pony races followed. All the speedy
ponies were picked out and riders chosen. If a boy declined to ride,
there would be shouts of derision.
Last of all came the swimming. A little urchin would hang to his pony’s
long tail, while the latter, with only his head above water, glided
sportively along. Finally the animals were driven into a fine field of
grass and we turned our attention to other games.
Lacrosse was an older game and was confined entirely to the Sisseton and
Santee Sioux. Shinny, such as is enjoyed by white boys on the ice, is
still played on the open prairie by the western Sioux. The “moccasin
game,” although sometimes played by the boys, was intended mainly for
adults.
The “mud-and-willow” fight was rather a severe and dangerous sport. A
lump of soft clay was stuck on the end of a limber and springy willow
wand and thrown as boys throw apples from sticks, with considerable
force. When there were fifty or a hundred players on each side, the
battle became warm; but anything to arouse the bravery of Indian boys
seemed to them a good and wholesome diversion.
Wrestling was largely indulged in by us all. It may seem odd,, but
wrestling was done by a great many boys at once--from ten to any number
on a side. It was really a battle, in which each one chose his opponent.
The rule was that if a boy sat down, he was let alone, but as long as
he remained standing within the field, he was open to an attack. No one
struck with the hand, but all manner of tripping with legs and feet
and butting with the knees was allowed. Altogether it was an exhausting
pastime--fully equal to the American game of football and only the young
athlete could really enjoy it.
One of our most curious sports was a war upon the nests of wild bees.
We imagined ourselves about to make an attack upon the Ojibways or some
tribal foe. We all painted and stole cautiously upon the nest; then,
with a rush and warwhoop, sprang upon the object of our attack and
endeavored to destroy it. But it seemed that the bees were always on the
alert and never entirely surprised, for they always raised quite as many
scalps as did their bold assailants! After the onslaught upon the nest
was ended, we usually followed it by a pretended scalp dance.
On the occasion of my first experience in this mode of warfare,
there were two other little boys who were also novices. One of them
particularly was really too young to indulge in an exploit of that kind.
As it was the custom of our people, when they killed or wounded an enemy
on the battle field, to announce the act in a loud voice, we did the
same. My friend, Little Wound (as I will call him, for I do not remember
his name), being quite small, was unable to reach the nest until it had
been well trampled upon and broken and the insects had made a counter
charge with such vigor as to repulse and scatter our numbers in every
direction. However, he evidently did not want to retreat without any
honors; so he bravely jumped upon the nest and yelled:
“I, the brave Little Wound, to-day kill the only fierce enemy!”
Scarcely were the last words uttered when he screamed as if stabbed to
the heart. One of his older companions shouted:
“Dive into the water! Run! Dive into the water!” for there was a lake
near by. This advice he obeyed.
When we had reassembled and were indulging in our mimic dance,
Little Wound was not allowed to dance. He was considered not to be in
existence--he had been killed by our enemies, the Bee tribe. Poor little
fellow! His swollen face was sad and ashamed as he sat on a fallen log
and watched the dance. Although he might well have styled himself one of
the noble dead who had died for their country, yet he was not unmindful
that he had screamed, and this weakness would be apt to recur to him
many times in the future.
We had some quiet plays which we alternated with the more severe and
warlike ones. Among them were throwing wands and snow-arrows. In the
winter we coasted much. We had no “double-rippers” or toboggans, but six
or seven of the long ribs of a buffalo, fastened together at the larger
end, answered all practical purposes. Sometimes a strip of bass-wood
bark, four feet long and about six inches wide, was used with
considerable skill. We stood on one end and held the other, using the
slippery inside of the bark for the outside, and thus coasting down long
hills with remarkable speed.
The spinning of tops was one of the all-absorbing winter sports. We made
our tops heartshaped of wood, horn or bone. We whipped them with a
long thong of buckskin. The handle was a stick about a foot long and
sometimes we whittled the stick to make it spoon-shaped at one end.
We played games with these tops--two to fifty boys at one time. Each
whips his top until it hums; then one takes the lead and the rest follow
in a sort of obstacle race. The top must spin all the way through. There
were bars of snow over which we must pilot our top in the spoon end of
our whip; then again we would toss it in the air on to another open spot
of ice or smooth snowcrust from twenty to fifty paces away. The top that
holds out the longest is the winner.
Sometimes we played “medicine dance.” This, to us, was almost what
“playing church” is among white children, but our people seemed to think
it an act of irreverence to imitate these dances, therefore performances
of this kind were always enjoyed in secret. We used to observe all the
important ceremonies and it required something of an actor to reproduce
the dramatic features of the dance. The real dances occupied a day and
a night, and the program was long and varied, so that it was not easy
to execute all the details perfectly; but the Indian children are born
imitators.
The boys built an arbor of pine boughs in some out-of-the-way place
and at one end of it was a rude lodge. This was the medicine lodge
or headquarters. All the initiates were there. At the further end or
entrance were the door-keepers or soldiers, as we called them. The
members of each lodge entered in a body, standing in single file and
facing the headquarters. Each stretched out his right hand and a prayer
was offered by the leader, after which they took the places assigned to
them.
When the preliminaries had been completed, our leader sounded the big
drum and we all said “A-ho-ho-ho!” as a sort of amen. Then the choir
began their song and whenever they ended a verse, we all said again
“A-ho-ho-ho!” At last they struck up the chorus and we all got upon
our feet and began to dance, by simply lifting up one foot and then the
other, with a slight swing to the body.
Each boy was representing or imitating some one of the medicine men.
We painted and decorated ourselves just as they did and carried bird or
squirrel skins, or occasionally live birds and chipmunks as our medicine
bags and small white shells or pebbles for medicine charms.
Then the persons to be initiated were brought in and seated, with much
ceremony, upon a blanket or buffalo robe. Directly in front of them
the ground was levelled smooth and here we laid an old pipe filled with
dried leaves for tobacco. Around it we placed the variously colored
feathers of the birds we had killed, and cedar and sweetgrass we burned
for incense.
Finally those of us who had been selected to perform this ceremony
stretched out our arms at full length, holding the sacred medicine bags
and aiming them at the new members. After swinging them four times, we
shot them suddenly forward, but did not let go. The novices then fell
forward on their faces as if dead. Quickly a chorus was struck up and
we all joined in a lively dance around the supposed bodies. The girls
covered them up with their blankets, thus burying the dead. At last we
resurrected them with our charms and led them to their places among the
audience. Then came the last general dance and the final feast.
I was often selected as choir-master on these occasions, for I had
happened to learn many of the medicine songs and was quite an apt mimic.
My grandmother, who was a noted medicine woman of the Turtle lodge, on
hearing of these sacrilegious acts (as she called them) warned me that
if any of the medicine men should discover them, they would punish me
terribly by shriveling my limbs with slow disease.
Occasionally, we also played “white man.” Our knowledge of the pale-face
was limited, but we had learned that he brought goods whenever he came
and that our people exchanged furs for his merchandise. We also knew
that his complexion was pale, that he had short hair on his head and
long hair on his face and that he wore coat, trousers, and hat, and
did not patronize blankets in the daytime. This was the picture we had
formed of the white man.
So we painted two or three of our number with white clay and put on them
birchen hats which we sewed up for the occasion; fastened a piece of
fur to their chins for a beard and altered their costumes as much as
lay within our power. The white of the birch-bark was made to answer for
their white shirts. Their merchandise consisted of sand for sugar, wild
beans for coffee, dried leaves for tea, pulverized earth for gun-powder,
pebbles for bullets and clear water for the dangerous “spirit water.” We
traded for these goods with skins of squirrels, rabbits and small birds.
When we played “hunting buffalo” we would send a few good runners off on
the open prairie with a supply of meat; then start a few equally swift
boys to chase them and capture the food. Once we were engaged in this
sport when a real hunt by the men was in progress; yet we did not
realize that it was so near until, in the midst of our play, we saw
an immense buffalo coming at full speed directly toward us. Our mimic
buffalo hunt turned into a very real buffalo scare. Fortunately, we were
near the edge of the woods and we soon disappeared among the leaves
like a covey of young prairie-chickens and some hid in the bushes while
others took refuge in tall trees.
We loved to play in the water. When we had no ponies, we often had
swimming matches of our own and sometimes made rafts with which we
crossed lakes and rivers. It was a common thing to “duck” a young or
timid boy or to carry him into deep water to struggle as best he might.
I remember a perilous ride with a companion on an unmanageable log, when
we were both less than seven years old. The older boys had put us on
this uncertain bark and pushed us out into the swift current of the
river. I cannot speak for my comrade in distress, but I can say now that
I would rather ride on a swift bronco any day than try to stay on and
steady a short log in a river. I never knew how we managed to prevent a
shipwreck on that voyage and to reach the shore.
We had many curious wild pets. There were young foxes, bears, wolves,
raccoons, fawns, buffalo calves and birds of all kinds, tamed by various
boys. My pets were different at different times, but I particularly
remember one. I once had a grizzly bear for a pet and so far as he and I
were concerned, our relations were charming and very close. But I hardly
know whether he made more enemies for me or I for him. It was his habit
to treat every boy unmercifully who injured me. He was despised for his
conduct in my interest and I was hated on account of his interference.