IT must now be about thirty years since our long journey in search of
new hunting-grounds, from the Assiniboine river to the Upper Missouri.
The buffalo, formerly so abundant between the two rivers, had begun to
shun their usual haunts, on account of the great numbers of Canadian
halfbreeds in that part of the country. There was also the first influx
of English sportsmen, whose wholesale methods of destruction wrought
such havoc with the herds. These seemingly intelligent animals correctly
prophesied to the natives the approach of the pale-face.
As we had anticipated, we found game very scarce as we travelled slowly
across the vast plains. There were only herds of antelope and sometimes
flocks of waterfowl, with here and there a lonely bull straggling
aimlessly along. At first our party was small, but as we proceeded
on our way we fell in with some of the western bands of Sioux and
Assiniboines, who are close connections.
Each day the camp was raised and marched from ten to twenty miles.
One might wonder how such a cavalcade would look in motion. The only
vehicles were the primitive travaux drawn by ponies and large Esquimaux
dogs. These are merely a pair of shafts fastened on either side of the
animal, and trailing on the ground behind. A large basket suspended
between the poles, just above the ground, supplied a place for goods and
a safe nest for the babies, or an occasional helpless old woman. Most of
our effects were carried by pack ponies; and an Indian packer excels all
others in quickness and dexterity.
The train was nearly a mile long, headed by a number of old warriors on
foot, who carried the filled pipe, and decided when and where to stop.
A very warm day made much trouble for the women who had charge of the
moving household. The pack dogs were especially unmanageable. They
would become very thirsty and run into the water with their loads. The
scolding of the women, the singing of the old men and the yelps of the
Indian dudes made our progress a noisy one, and like that of a town in
motion rather than an ordinary company of travelers.
This journey of ours was not without its exciting episodes. My uncle had
left the main body and gone off to the south with a small party, as he
was accustomed to do every summer, to seek revenge of some sort on the
whites for all the injuries that they had inflicted upon our family.
This time he met with a company of soldiers between Fort Totten and Fort
Berthold, in North Dakota. Somehow, these seven Indians surprised the
troopers in broad daylight, while eating their dinner, and captured the
whole outfit, including nearly all their mules and one white horse, with
such of their provisions as they cared to carry back with them. No doubt
these soldiers reported at the fort that they had been attacked by a
large party of Indians, and I dare say some promotions rewarded their
tale of a brave defense! However, the facts are just as I have stated
them. My uncle brought home the white horse, and the fine Spanish mules
were taken by the others. Among the things they brought back with them
were several loaves of raised bread, the first I had ever seen, and a
great curiosity. We called it aguyape tachangu, or lung bread, from its
spongy consistency.
Although when a successful war-party returns with so many trophies,
there is usually much dancing and hilarity, there was almost nothing
of the kind on this occasion. The reason was that the enemy made little
resistance; and then there was our old tradition with regard to the
whites that there is no honor in conquering them, as they fight only
under compulsion. Had there really been a battle, and some of our men
been killed, there would have been some enthusiasm.
It was upon this journey that a hunter performed the feat of shooting
an arrow through three antelopes. This statement may perhaps be doubted,
yet I can vouch for its authenticity. He was not alone at the time, and
those who were with him are reliable witnesses. The animals were driven
upon a marshy peninsula, where they were crowded together and almost
helpless. Many were despatched with knives and arrows; and a man by the
name of Grey-foot, who was large and tall and an extraordinarily fine
hunter, actually sent his arrow through three of them. This feat was not
accomplished by mere strength, for it requires a great deal of skill as
well.
A misfortune occurred near the river which deprived us of one of our
best young men. There was no other man, except my own uncle, for whom I
had at that time so great an admiration. Very strangely, as it appeared
to me, he bore a Christian name. He was commonly called Jacob. I did not
discover how he came by such a curious and apparently meaningless name
until after I had returned to the United States. His father had been
converted by one of the early missionaries, before the Minnesota
massacre in 1862, and the boy had been baptized Jacob. He was an ideal
woodsman and hunter and really a hero in my eyes. He was one of the
party of seven who had attacked and put to rout the white soldiers.
The trouble arose thus. Jacob had taken from the soldiers two good
mules, and soon afterward we fell in with some Canadian half-breeds
who were desirous of trading for them. However, the young man would not
trade; he was not at all disposed to part with his fine mules. A certain
one of the mixed-bloods was intent upon getting possession of these
animals by fair or unfair means. He invited Jacob to dinner, and treated
him to whiskey; but the Indian youth declined the liquor. The half-breed
pretended to take this refusal to drink as an insult. He seized his gun
and shot his guest dead.
In a few minutes the scene was one of almost unprecedented excitement.
Every adult Indian, female as well as male, was bent upon invading the
camp of the bois brules, to destroy the murderer. The confusion was
made yet more intolerable by the wailing of the women and the singing of
death-songs.
Our number was now ten to one of the halfbreeds. Within the circle
formed by their carts they prepared for a desperate resistance. The
hills about their little encampment were covered with warriors, ready to
pounce upon them at the signal of their chief.
The older men, however, were discussing in council what should be
demanded of the halfbreeds. It was determined that the murderer must be
given up to us, to be punished according to the laws of the plains. If,
however, they should refuse to give him up, the mode of attack decided
upon was to build a fire around the offenders and thus stampede their
horses, or at the least divide their attention. Meanwhile, the braves
were to make a sudden onset.
Just then a piece of white, newly-tanned deerskin was hoisted up in
the center of the bois brule encampment. It was a flag of truce. One of
their number approached the council lodge, unarmed and making the sign
for a peaceful communication. He was admitted to the council, which
was still in session, and offered to give up the murderer. It was also
proposed, as an alternative, that he be compelled to give everything he
had to the parents of the murdered man.
The parents were allowed no voice whatever in the discussion which
followed, for they were regarded as incompetent judges, under the
circumstances. It was finally decreed by the council that the man’s
life should be spared, but that he must be exposed to the indignity of
a public whipping, and resign all his earthly possessions to the parents
of his victim. This sentence was carried into effect.
In our nomadic life there were a few unwritten laws by which our people
were governed. There was a council, a police force, and an executive
officer, who was not always the chief, but a member of the tribe
appointed to this position for a given number of days. There were also
the wise old men who were constantly in attendance at the council lodge,
and acted as judges in the rare event of the commission of a crime.
This simple government of ours was supported by the issue of little
sticks about five inches long. There were a hundred or so of these, and
they were distributed every few days by the police or soldiers, who kept
account of them. Whoever received one of these sticks must return it
within five or ten days, with a load of provisions. If one was held
beyond the stipulated time the police would call the delinquent warrior
to account. In case he did not respond, they could come and destroy his
tent or take away his weapons. When all the sticks had been returned,
they were reissued to other men; and so the council lodge was supported.
It was the custom that no man who had not distinguished himself upon
the war-path could destroy the home of another. This was a necessary
qualification for the office of an Indian policeman. These policemen
must also oversee the hunt, lest some individuals should be well
provided with food while others were in want. No man might hunt
independently. The game must be carefully watched by the game scouts,
and the discovery of a herd reported at once to the council, after which
the time and manner of the hunt were publicly announced.
I well recall how the herald announced the near approach of buffaloes.
It was supposed that if the little boys could trip up the old man while
going his rounds, the success of the hunt was assured. The oftener he
was tripped, the more successful it would be! The signal or call for
buffaloes was a peculiar whistle. As soon as the herald appeared, all
the boys would give the whistle and follow in crowds after the poor old
man. Of course he tried to avoid them, but they were generally too quick
for him.
There were two kinds of scouts, for hunting and for war. In one sense
every Indian was a scout; but there were some especially appointed to
serve for a certain length of time. An Indian might hunt every day,
besides the regularly organized hunt; but he was liable to punishment at
any time. If he could kill a solitary buffalo or deer without disturbing
the herd, it was allowed. He might also hunt small game.
In the movable town under such a government as this, there was apt to
be inconvenience and actual suffering, since a great body of people were
supported only by the daily hunt. Hence there was a constant disposition
to break up into smaller parties, in order to obtain food more easily
and freely. Yet the wise men of the Dakotas would occasionally form
large bands of from two to five thousand people, who camped and moved
about together for a period of some months. It is apparent that so large
a body could not be easily supplied with the necessaries of life; but,
on the other hand, our enemies respected such a gathering! Of course
the nomadic government would do its utmost to hold together as long as
possible. The police did all they could to keep in check those parties
who were intent upon stealing away.
There were many times, however, when individual bands and even families
were justified in seeking to separate themselves from the rest, in order
to gain a better support. It was chiefly by reason of this food
question that the Indians never established permanent towns or organized
themselves into a more formidable nation.
There was a sad misfortune which, although it happened many generations
ago, was familiarly quoted among us. A certain band became very
independent and unruly; they went so far as to wilfully disobey the
orders of the general government. The police were directed to punish
the leader severely; whereupon the rest defended him and resisted the
police. But the latter were competent to enforce their authority, and as
a result the entire band was annihilated.
One day, as we were following along the bank of the Upper Missouri,
there appeared to be a great disturbance at the head of the
cavalcade--so much so that we thought our people had been attacked by a
war-party of the Crows or some of the hostile tribes of that region. In
spite of the danger, even the women and children hurried forward to join
the men--that is to say, as many as were not upon the hunt. Most of the
warriors were out, as usual, and only the large boys and the old men
were travelling with the women and their domestic effects and little
ones.
As we approached the scene of action, we heard loud shouts and
the report of fire-arms; but our party was scattered along for a
considerable distance, and all was over before we could reach the
spot. It was a great grizzly bear who had been bold enough to oppose,
single-handed, the progress of several hundred Indians. The council-men,
who usually walked a little in advance of the train, were the first to
meet the bear, and he was probably deceived by the sight of this advance
body, and thus audaciously defied them.
Among these council-men--all retired chiefs and warriors whose ardent
zeal for the display of courage had long been cooled, and whose present
duties were those of calm deliberation for their people’s welfare--there
were two old, distinguished war-chiefs. Each of these men still carried
his war-lance, wrapped up in decorated buckskin. As the bear advanced
boldly toward them, the two old men promptly threw off their robes--an
evidence that there still lurked within their breasts the spirit of
chivalry and ready courage. Spear in hand, they both sprang forward to
combat with the ferocious animal, taking up their positions about ten
feet apart.
As they had expected, the fearful beast, after getting up on his
haunches and growling savagely, came forward with widely opened jaws.
He fixed his eyes upon the left-hand man, who was ready to meet him with
uplifted spear, but with one stroke of his powerful paw the weapon was
sent to the ground. At the same moment the right-hand man dealt him a
stab that penetrated the grizzly’s side.
The bear uttered a groan not unlike that of a man, and seized the spear
so violently that its owner was thrown to the ground. As the animal
drew the lance from its body, the first man, having recovered his own,
stabbed him with it on the other side. Upon this, he turned and knocked
the old man down, and again endeavored to extract the spear.
By this time all the dogs and men were at hand. Many arrows and balls
were sent into the tough hide of the bear. Yet he would probably have
killed both his assailants, had it not been for the active small dogs
who were constantly upon his heels and annoying him. A deadly rifle shot
at last brought him down.
The old men were badly bruised and torn, but both of them recovered,
to bear from that day the high-sounding titles of “Fought-the-Bear” and
“Conquered-the-Grizzly.”