ARRIVAL OF “PORCUPINE”—A LETTER FROM CAPTAIN MARSHALL—HOPES
OF RESCUE—TREACHERY OF THE MESSENGER—EGOSEGALONICHA—THE
TABLES TURNED—ANOTHER GLEAM OF HOPE—THE INDIAN “WHITE
TIPI”—DISAPPOINTED—A WHITE MAN BOUND AND LEFT TO STARVE—A
BURIAL INCIDENT.
Before the Indians left this camping-ground, there arrived among us an
Indian called Porcupine. He was well dressed, and mounted on a fine
horse, and brought with him presents and valuables that insured him a
cordial reception.
After he had been a few days in the village, he gave me a letter
from Captain Marshall, of the Eleventh Ohio Cavalry, detailing the
unsuccessful attempts that had been made to rescue me, and stating that
this friendly Indian had undertaken to bring me back, for which he
would be rewarded.
The letter further said that he had already received a horse and
necessary provisions for the journey, and had left his three wives,
with thirteen others, at the fort, as hostages.
My feelings, on reading this letter, were indescribable. My heart
leaped with unaccustomed hope, at this evidence of the efforts of my
white friends in my behalf; but the next instant, despair succeeded
this gleam of happy anticipation, for I knew this faithless messenger
would not be true to his promise, since he had joined the Sioux
immediately after his arrival among them, in a battle against the
whites.
My fears were not unfounded. Porcupine prepared to go back to the fort
without me, disregarding my earnest prayers and entreaties.
The chief found me useful, and determined to keep me. He believed that
a woman who had seen so much of their deceitfulness and cruelty could
do them injury at the fort, and might prevent their receiving annuities.
Porcupine said he should report me as dead, or impossible to find; nor
could I prevail on him to do any thing to the contrary.
When reminded of the possible vengeance of the soldiers on his wives,
whom they had threatened to kill if he did not bring me back, he
laughed.
“The white soldiers are cowards,” he replied; “they never kill women;
and I will deceive them as I have done before.”
Saying this, he took his departure; nor could my most urgent entreaties
induce the chief to yield his consent, and allow me to send a written
message to my friends, or in any way assure them of my existence. All
hope of rescue departed, and sadly I turned again to the wearisome
drudgery of my captive life.
The young betrothed bride of the old chief was very gracious to me. On
one occasion she invited me to join her in a walk. The day was cool,
and the air temptingly balmy.
“Down there,” she said, pointing to a deep ravine; “come and walk
there; it is cool and shady.”
I looked in the direction indicated, and then at the Indian girl, who
became very mysterious in her manner, as she whispered:
“There are white people down there.”
“How far?” I asked, eagerly.
“About fifty miles,” she replied. “They have great guns, and men
dressed in many buttons; their wagons are drawn by horses with long
ears.”
A fort, thought I, but remembering the treacherous nature of the people
I was among, I repressed every sign of emotion, and tried to look
indifferent.
“Should you like to see them?” questioned Egosegalonicha, as she was
called.
“They are strangers to me,” I said, quietly; “I do not know them.”
“Are you sorry to live with us?”
“You do not have such bread as I would like to eat,” replied I,
cautiously.
“And are you dissatisfied with our home?”
“You have some meat now; it is better than that at the other
camping-ground. There we had no food, and I suffered.”
“But your eyes are swollen and red,” hinted she; “you do not weep for
bread.”
These questions made me suspicious, and I tried to evade the young
squaw, but in vain.
“Just see how green that wood is,” I said, affecting not to hear her.
“But you do not say you are content,” repeated she. “Will you stay here
always, willingly?”
“Come and listen to the birds,” said I, drawing my companion toward the
grove.
I did not trust her, and feared to utter a single word, lest it might
be used against me with the chief.
Neither was I mistaken in the design of Egosegalonicha, for when we
returned to the lodge, I overheard her relating to the chief the
amusement she had enjoyed, in lying to the white woman, repeating what
she had said about the fort, and inventing entreaties which I had
used, urging her to allow me to fly to my white friends, and leave the
Indians forever.
Instantly I resolved to take advantage of the affair as a joke, and,
approaching the chief with respectful pleasantry, begged to reverse the
story.
“It was the squaw who had implored me to go with her to the white man’s
fort,” I said, “and find her a white warrior for a husband; but, true to
my faith with the Indians, I refused.”
The wily Egosegalonicha, thus finding her weapons turned against
herself, appeared confused, and suddenly left the tent, at which the
old chief smiled grimly.
Slander, like a vile serpent, coils itself among these Indian women;
and, as with our fair sisters in civilized society, when reality fails,
invention is called in to supply the defect. They delight in scandal,
and prove by it their claim to some of the refined conventionalities of
civilized life.
Porcupine had spread the news abroad in the village that a large reward
had been offered for the white woman, consequently I was sought for,
the motive being to gain the reward.
One day an Indian, whom I had seen in different places, and whose wife
I had known, made signs intimating a desire for my escape, and assuring
me of his help to return to my people.
I listened to his plans, and although I knew my position in such a case
to be one of great peril; yet I felt continually that my life was of so
little value that any opportunity, however slight, was as a star in the
distance, and escape should be attempted, even at a risk.
We conversed as well as we could several times, and finally
arrangements were made. At night he was to make a slight scratching
noise at the tipi where I was, as a sign. The night came, but I was
singing to the people, and could not get away. Another time we had
visitors in the lodge, and I would be missed. The next night I arose
from my robe, and went out into the darkness. Seeing my intended
rescuer at a short distance, I approached and followed him. We ran
hastily out of the village about a mile, where we were to be joined by
the squaw who had helped make the arrangements and was favorable to
the plan for my escape, but she was not there. White Tipi (that was
the Indian’s name) looked hastily around, and, seeing no one, darted
suddenly away, without a word of explanation. Why the Indian acted thus
I never knew. It was a strange proceeding.
Fear lent me wings, and I flew, rather than ran, back to my tipi, or
lodge, where, exhausted and discouraged, I dropped on the ground and
feigned slumber, for the inmates were already aroused, having just
discovered my absence. Finding me apparently asleep, they lifted me up,
and taking me into the tent, laid me upon my own robe.
The next evening White Tipi sent for me to come to his lodge, to a
feast, where I was well and hospitably entertained, but not a sign
given of the adventure of the previous night. But when the pipe was
passed, he requested it to be touched to my lips, then offered it to
the Great Spirit, thus signifying his friendship for me.
In this month the Indians captured a white man, who was hunting on the
prairie, and carried him far away from the haunts of white men, where
they tied him hand and foot, after divesting him of all clothing, and
left him to starve. He was never heard of afterward.
There were twin children in one of the lodges, one of which sickened
and died, and in the evening was buried. The surviving child was placed
upon the scaffold by the corpse, and there remained all night, its
crying and moaning almost breaking my heart. I inquired why they did
this. The reply was, to cause the mate to mourn. The mother was on one
of the neighboring hills, wailing and weeping, as is the custom among
them. Every night nearly, there were women among the hills, wailing for
their dead.