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PAWNEE
HERO STORIES AND FOLK-TALES
WITH NOTES ON
THE ORIGIN, CUSTOMS AND CHARACTER OF
THE PAWNEE PEOPLE
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
New York
Forest and Stream Publishing Company
1889
Copyright, 1889, by
George Bird Grinnell.
[Illustration: SIGNAL--"WHO ARE YOU?" ANSWER--"PA´-NI."]
TO THE MEMORY OF
MAJOR FRANK NORTH
--_Pa´-ni Le-shar_--
This Record of His People is Inscribed.
NOTE.
Last spring I visited the Pawnee Agency in the Indian Territory. On
the day after my arrival, I rode over to the house of Eagle Chief,
whom, under his warrior name, White Eagle, I had known for many years.
Entering the door, I found myself in the presence of the Chief, who,
after quickly putting his hand over his mouth in his astonishment,
greeted me with a cordial deep-voiced _Lau_. Then we sat down and
filled the pipe and talked. Through all our talk I could see that he
was curious to know the object of my visit. At last he said, "My son I
am glad that you have come to us once more. My mind is big when I look
at you and talk to you. It is good that you are here. Why have you
come again to the Pawnee village? What brings you here at this time?"
I answered, "Father, we have come down here to visit the people and
to talk to them; to ask them about how things used to be in the olden
times, to hear their stories, to get their history, and then to put
all these things down in a book, so that in the years to come, after
the tribe have all become like white people, the old things of the
Pawnees shall not be forgotten."
The Chief meditated for a while and then said, "It is good and it is
time. Already the old things are being lost, and those who knew the
secrets are many of them dead. If we had known how to write, we would
have put all these things down, and they would not have been
forgotten, but we could not write, and these stories were handed down
from one to another. The old men told their grandchildren, and they
told their grandchildren, and so the secrets and the stories and the
doings of long ago have been handed down. It may be that they have
changed as they passed from father to son, and it is well that they
should be put down, so that our children, when they are like the white
people, can know what were their fathers' ways."
Most of the material contained in this little book was collected on
that visit.
CONTENTS.
HERO STORIES.
PAGE
Comanche Chief, the Peace-Maker, 25
Lone Chief, Skür´-ar-a Le-shar, 45
The Prisoners of Court House Rock, 67
Wolves in the Night, 70
A Leader of Soldiers, 74
A Cheyenne Blanket, 76
Little Warrior's Counsel, 79
A Comanche Bundle, 83
FOLK-TALES.
The Dun Horse, 87
A Story of Faith, 98
The Bear Man, 121
The Ghost Wife, 129
Ti-ke-wa-kush, the Man who Called the Buffalo, 132
Pa-hu-ka´-tawa, 142
The Boy who Was Sacrificed, 161
The Snake Brother, 171
O´re-ka-rahr, 182
The Ghost Bride, 191
The Boy who Saw A-ti´-us, 195
How the Deer Lost His Gall, 204
Yellow Fox, 206
NOTES ON THE PAWNEES.
The Pawnees:
I. Relationships, 215
II. Origin and Migrations, 223
III. The Skidi, 231
IV. Name and Emblem, 239
Pawnee Customs:
I. Early Days, 249
II. Every-day Life, 259
III. A Summer Hunt, 270
The Pawnee in War:
I. Enemies and Methods of Warfare, 303
II. Pa´-ni Le-shar and His Scouts, 323
III. War Parties, 335
Religion:
I. Beliefs, 350
II. Ceremonies, 360
III. Medicine and Mystery, 374
Later History:
I. Removal to the Indian Territory, 389
II. Present Condition and Progress, 397
THE PAWNEES AND THEIR STORIES.
Once the Pawnees were a great people. They were very numerous. They
were undisputed masters of a vast territory. They had everything that
heart could wish. Their corn and their buffalo gave them food,
clothing and shelter; they had weapons for war and for the chase. They
roamed over the country without let or hindrance. In peace they were
light-hearted and contented; in war cunning, fierce and successful.
Their name was a terror to their enemies. This was in the past. Now
they are few in number, poor, a prey to disease, a vanishing race.
My acquaintance with the tribe began in 1870. From that time to the
present I have had frequent intercourse with them; have lived in their
villages; and been with them on their buffalo hunts. During the weeks
and months spent in camp and village, I have listened to many stories
of Pawnee heroes and to folk-tales of the miraculous doings of the
olden time. In my intercourse with the tribe, extending over a period
of nearly twenty years, I have been deeply impressed by the high
qualities of the Pawnee character; and the more familiar I have become
with this people, the more strongly have I felt that a permanent
record should be made of the tales which reflect that character.
Unless thus collected now, much of this lore must inevitably be
forgotten.
For the Pawnees are passing away. When I first joined them on their
buffalo hunts from their old home on the Loup Fork in Nebraska, the
tribe numbered three thousand; last March in the Indian Territory I
found but eight hundred. And more rapidly than the dwindling of the
people are their traditions lapsing from memory under the changed
conditions of the tribe's life. The lore, which sprang up as an
indigenous growth of the wide-stretching prairie and the wilderness
where the wild Pawnee warrior hunted free, finds scanty nurture in the
uncongenial soil of fields tilled by Pawnee followers of the plow.
With the new modes of living come new views of life, new motives, new
sympathies--in a word, civilization. To earn a living by toil, to
wrest subsistence from the earth, this is the problem confronting the
Pawnees to-day, the task which is engaging the sinew and purpose of
the tribe. In the transition stage, the memory of the old days, of old
manners and rites and ceremonies and of old heroes, is with the elders
of the race, those ancient braves whose lives bridge the past and the
present. When I visited the Agency last March, it was to write down
from the lips of these old men such material as I could collect. When
they shall die much of the unwritten lore will perish too, for with
them will cease that sympathetic and perfect credence, which alone
gives to folk-lore vitality and lastingness. What is written in this
volume then belongs distinctly to the wild Indian.
The task that I have set for myself is that of a recorder. No attempt
has been made to give a literary color to the hero stories and
folk-tales here written out. I have scrupulously avoided putting into
them anything of my own. The stories are told to the reader as they
were told to me. They are not elaborated. I have tried to show how
Indians think and speak, rather than to make their stories more
entertaining by dressing them up to suit the civilized taste. My
object in giving these narratives in their present shape is to make a
book which shall be true to life, and shall faithfully reflect the
Pawnee character, as the story tellers have themselves painted it. In
a very few cases I have added some words explaining matters so well
understood by those familiar with the Indians as to need no
explanation. If these tales have any ethnological value, it will be
enhanced by their being given in the precise form in which they were
told by those to whom they have been handed down from generation to
generation; but quite apart from this is another point which is
entitled to consideration.
The entire ignorance concerning Indians, which prevails among the
general public, can be dispelled only by letting that public
understand something of the ways of life of the wild Indian, something
of the subjects about which he thinks and talks, as well as of how he
looks at these subjects, and what he has to say about them.
The late Mrs. Jackson's charming story, "Ramona," did much to bring
the more intelligent class of readers in touch with the Indians, and
to awaken sympathy for them by pointing out the unnumbered wrongs
perpetrated on this race by the Government. Mrs. Jackson's book was a
story, a novel; wonderfully well told and full of truth and feeling;
but while it may have been a relation of facts, it did not profess to
treat of actual persons. It is looked upon by many readers as a mere
romance. It is a book about which I was once asked, skeptically, "Did
you ever see any Indians like those?" In the Pawnee stories here set
down there is no romance nor coloring. The Indians themselves are
talking, and whatever the faults and weak points of these tales--and
some of them are sufficiently obvious--they at least give the reader a
true conception of Indians as they have actually lived. They are
stories of Indians by Indians. There is about them nothing of the
white man; and the intelligent person, who is sufficiently interested
in the subject to read this book through, will gain from it a new
insight into Indian character.
The Indian of Cooper--with his bravery, his endurance, his acuteness,
his high qualities of honesty, generosity, courtesy and
hospitality--has been laughed at for half a century. Yet every man who
has mingled much with the Indians in their homes has known individuals
who might have sat for the portraits which Cooper drew of some of his
aboriginal heroes. There are good men among Indians, just as among
the whites. The prevalent notion of the Indian has been formed from
the worst class of this people, the lazy, filthy beggars who haunt the
settlements of the West, who to their own vices have added new ones
picked up from their surroundings, and who are hopelessly degraded.
These are not typical Indians, and it is unjust to judge a whole race
from such degenerate specimens. There is still another notion of the
Indian fondly cherished by many worthy people, whose sympathies have
been wrought upon by the cruelty and injustice with which we have
treated this race. These good people look upon all Indians as simple
children of nature, who would do no wrong if they had not been
contaminated by contact with vicious whites. It is unnecessary to say
that this notion of the Indian is also incorrect.
The Indian is neither a fiend nor a saint. There are good ones and bad
ones. As a rule, perhaps they try to act up to their ideas of what is
right, but the standard of a race of barbarians cannot be the same as
that of a civilized people, and in judging of their character we must
make allowances for this difference. The standard of right and wrong
among civilized people is a growth, the product of the experience of
thousands of years. The Indian races have not been through a like
experience. They have regarded as virtues some things which seem to us
the worst of crimes. The Indian differs from the white man in
education and manner of life, and so, of course, in his modes of
thought. He has not been taught the lesson of self-control, which his
surroundings oblige each civilized man to begin to learn as a child.
He has known until recent times no law save that of strength. He has
been taught that war is the noblest of pursuits--the only one worthy
of man. And that war has consisted in making forays upon his enemies,
taking their possessions, and, if possible, their lives and their
scalps. His warfare consisted in surprises rather than open combat. A
scalp taken was a trophy of victory, and the scalp of a woman was
almost as eagerly sought as that of a brave or of a chief. It was an
evidence of injury inflicted on the enemy. To steal horses from the
enemy was an achievement creditable and also profitable.
We commonly speak of the raids of war parties as horse stealing
expeditions, but this is wholly misleading, because to the civilized
understanding the phrase horse stealing carries with it an idea of
dishonesty. No such meaning attaches to the Indian equivalent of this
phrase. They take horses by stratagem or secretly, by the usual, and
to them legitimate, methods of warfare. To speak of their stealing
horses, using that verb in the sense which we commonly give it, would
be like saying that an army stole the cannon which it captured in an
engagement with the enemy. Captured horses were the legitimate spoils
of war. The wealth of the Indians was in their horses. They had no
fortified places, no ships of war, no cannon, no works of art. Their
only valuable possessions were their horses. These were the only
property that could be carried off. Therefore, when an expedition was
made against a hostile tribe, scalps and horses were naturally its
object. Horses, being their only valuable possessions, constituted
their medium of exchange, so far as they had any. Did a man wish to
purchase an ornament, or an article of dress which took his fancy, he
gave a horse for it. If he bought a wife he paid for her in horses.
The most valuable present that could be made was a good horse; and
horses were often given by the well-to-do to their friends and
relations who had been sick or unfortunate. On the other hand, when,
as was sometimes the case, a conquered tribe was condemned to pay a
war indemnity, they paid it in horses. It is related that when the
Skidi broke their treaty with the other bands, and were afterward
conquered by them, they were obliged to pay such a fine.
This view of Indian warfare being understood, the motive of the hero
stories here given, and of many of the folk-tales, becomes plain.
The Pawnees are essentially a religious people. They worship
_Ti-ra´-wa_, who is in and of everything. Unlike many of the Indian
tribes of the West, they do not adore any material thing. They regard
certain places as sacred, but these are so only because blessed by the
Divine presence. The Pawnee Deity is not personified. He is
intangible, quite as much so as the God of the Christians. The sacred
character of _Ti-ra´-wa_ extends to animal nature. The fishes which
swim in the rivers, the birds of the air and the beasts which roam
over the prairie, have sometimes intelligence, knowledge and power far
beyond those of man. But they are not gods. Their miraculous
attributes are given them by the Ruler, whose servants they are, and
who often makes them the medium of his communications to man. They are
his messengers--his angels--and their powers are always used for
good. Prayers are made to them; sometimes for direct help in time of
need, but more often for intercession. Often in the folk-tales it will
be seen that when the blessing asked for is some small thing, a prayer
is made to the animals (_Nahu´rac_), but if the petitioners are asking
for some great thing, something which is very difficult to grant, then
the prayer is made to "One Above," to "The Ruler," that is, to the
Supreme Being.
Nothing of importance was ever undertaken without a prayer for help,
for success. All the serious undertakings of the year, whose success
would affect the general welfare, were preceded by religious
ceremonies, when all the tribe took part, and prayers were made and
sacrifices offered to _Ti-ra´-wa_; and in all lesser enterprises, the
individuals who were interested humbled themselves and implored the
Divine assistance. A party starting off on the warpath prayed for
success and made a burnt offering. Prayer and sacrifice always marked
the beginning of the feast, and often its end. Success in their
undertakings was acknowledged by grateful offerings to the Ruler. The
victorious warrior sometimes sacrificed the scalp torn from the head
of his enemy, and this was burned with elaborate ceremonies by the
High Priest. He who brought back from a foray many horses, gave one to
the priest as a thank-offering to the Ruler. One of the well-known
Seven Brothers said to me, "It is our aim, after we have been helped,
to give thanks."
The feeling of these Indians toward their God is one of humility and
reverence. They do not love him, but they look to him for help at all
times. The young are exhorted to humble themselves before him, to pray
to him, to look to One Above, to ask help from the Ruler. In the
stories which are included in this book the allusions constantly made
to _Ti-ra´-wa_--the Supreme Power--the prayers offered and the
humility and self-abnegation so often expressed, show faith, profound
religious feelings, and great elevation of thought.
* * * * *
Among tribal names of North American Indians, none is more familiar to
us than Pawnee; yet of no tribe is less known. Frequent allusions to
them occur in the writings of early travelers in the West; but only one
satisfactory attempt has been made to write a connected history of this
family. In the _Magazine of American History_ for 1880 Mr. John B.
Dunbar published a most interesting account of this tribe, but his
sketch is mainly historical, and does not profess to treat exhaustively
of the lives and modes of thought of this people. It is, however, a
history of very great importance and value, and in preparing the
historical matter which is included in this volume, I have not
hesitated to draw on Mr. Dunbar's papers, which must form the basis of
any subsequent account of the Pawnees, and which should be read by all
who are interested in this people.
I owe much of my interest in and knowledge of the Pawnees to my long
intimacy with the late Major Frank North, who from his extended
intercourse and close connection with this people--a connection which
lasted more than thirty years--was unquestionably better informed
about them than any other white man has ever been; and with Capt.
L. H. North, his brother, who was for many years associated with Major
North in command of the Pawnee Scouts.
In gathering the material here presented I have been assisted also by
James R. Murie, a nephew of Comanche Chief; by Ralph J. Weeks, a
half-brother of Lone Chief; by Harry Kuhns, by Eagle Chief and Bear
Chief, Skidis; by Good Chief and Curly Chief, Kit-ke-hahk´-is; by
Secret Pipe Chief and Frank White, Chau-is, and by many others of my
Pawnee friends, to all of whom my acknowledgments are due.
In the pronunciation of the few Pawnee words used in these stories,
the vowel sounds, as nearly as I can give them, are as follows: _a_ as
in father, _e_ as the _a_ in ale, _i_ as _e_ in cede, _û_ long as _oo_
in pool, _ü_ short as in us, _au_ as _ou_ in house. These sounds
depend somewhat on the letters which follow the vowels, and the
spelling does not always conform to the rule laid down. The last two
syllables in the word Pita-hau-erat, for example, are pronounced
_êrät_ or _idot_. The sounds of _d_, _l_, _n_ and _r_ are difficult to
express by English letters; _r_ sometimes has its own sound quite
distinctly, at others more the sound of _d_; _n_ often has a _d_
sound, and _l_ a sound of _n_. It will be noted that throughout this
volume I have used the familiar English word Pawnee instead of the
evidently more correct _Pa´-ni_.
Finally I have refrained from commenting on the stories, though there
is abundant opportunity for comment.
G. B. G.
July, 1889.
_HERO STORIES._
COMANCHE CHIEF.
The Peace-Maker.
I.
Many years ago there lived in the Ski´-di village a young man, about
sixteen years old. His name was _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ (the hawk). At this
time the Pawnees wore their hair in the ancient fashion, cut as the
Osages wear theirs; the whole head was shaved except a roach running
back from the forehead beyond the scalp lock.
A war party went off to the south and he joined them as a servant.
They went a long way and a long way, traveling far, but they got no
horses and came back. Afterward another party started off on the
warpath, and he went with it. They traveled many days, going to the
southwest, and at length they came to a camp, and hid themselves to
wait until it was dark. It was a camp of the Comanches.
When night had come they all went into the camp to steal horses. This
young man went to a lodge near which stood three horses, two spotted
horses and one gray. They were tied near the door of the lodge, and
from this he thought they must be fast, for the Indians usually tie up
their best horses close to the lodge door, where they will be under
their eyes as much as possible. He went to the lodge to cut the ropes,
and just as he was about to do so he thought he heard some one inside.
He stepped up close to the lodge, and looked in through a little
opening between the door and the lodge, and saw a small fire burning,
and on the other side of the fire was sitting a young girl, combing
her long hair. The young man looked around the lodge to see who else
was there, and saw only an old man and an old woman, and the
fire-maker. He cut the ropes of the two spotted horses standing
outside, led the horses out of the camp, and met his companion. To him
he said, "Now, brother, you take these horses and go to the hill where
we were hiding to-day, and wait for me there. I have seen another fine
spotted horse that I want to get; I will go back for it and will meet
you before morning at that place."
He went back, as if to get the spotted horse, but returned to the
lodge where the girl was. He went all around it, and looked at it
carefully. He saw that there were feathers on the lodge, and rows of
animals hoofs hanging down the sides, which rattled in the wind, and
to one of the lodge-poles was tied a buffalo tail, which hung down.
Then he went back to the door and looked in at the girl again. She had
braided her hair and was sitting there by the fire. He stayed there a
long time that night looking at her. Toward morning he went to look
for his companion. When he met him he told him that some one had taken
the spotted horse before he got to it; he could not find it. When the
party all met next morning, they found that they had taken a lot of
horses, and they started north to go home. They reached the Pawnee
village, and every one was glad of their success.
After this, whenever this young man saw anything that was nice or
pretty, such as medals, ear-rings, finger rings for women, beadwork
leggings, bracelets, necklaces, wampum, beads--things that the
Comanches did not have--he would give a pony for it. For one year he
went on like this, gathering together these pretty things. When the
year had gone by he had no horses left; he had given them all away to
get these presents. He packed all these things up in a bundle, and
then spoke one night to his friend, saying, "I intend to go off on the
warpath again, and I would like to have you go with me; we two will go
alone." His friend agreed to go.
II.
Before the time came to start, other young men heard of it, and
several joined them. There were eight of them in all. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_
was the leader. He told his young men that they were going to a
certain place where he knew there were lots of spotted horses to
steal. They started out on foot. After traveling many days, they came
to the place where the camp had been at the time he saw the girl.
There was now no camp there.
They went on further, and at length came to a camp and hid themselves.
When night came the leader told his men to remain where they were
hiding, and he would go into the camp and see if there were any horses
to take. He went through all the camp looking for the lodge in which
he had seen the girl, but he did not find it. Then he went back to
where the young men were hiding, and told them that this was not the
camp they were looking for; that they did not have here the spotted
horses that they wanted. In the camp of the year before there had been
many spotted horses.
The young men did not understand this, and some of them did not like
to leave this camp without taking any horses, but he was the leader
and they did as he said. They left that camp and went on further.
After traveling some days they came to another camp, and hid themselves
near it. When night came on _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ said to his young men, "You
stay here where you are hiding, and I will go into this camp and see if
it is the one we are looking for." He went through the camp but did not
find the lodge he sought. He returned to the hiding place, and told the
party there that this was not the camp they were looking for, that the
spotted horses were not there. They left the camp and went on.
When they had come close to the mountains they saw another camp.
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ went into this camp alone, and when he had been
through it, he went back to his party and told them that this was the
camp they had been looking for. Then he sent the young men into the
camp to steal horses, and he put on his fine leggings and moccasins
that he had in his bundle, and painted himself and went with them. He
took a horse and his friend took one. They met outside the village. He
told his friend to get on his own horse and lead the other, and with
the rest of the party to go off east from the camp to a certain place,
and there to wait for him. "I have seen," he said, "another fine horse
that I like, and I wish to go back and get it."
His friend looked sorrowfully at him and said, "Why are you all
dressed up like this, and why is your face painted? What are you doing
or what is in your mind? Perhaps you intend to do some great thing
to-night that you do not want me, your friend, to know about. I have
seen for a long time that you are hiding something from me."
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ caught his friend in his arms and hugged him and
kissed him and said, "You are my friend; who is so near to me as you
are? Go on as I have said, and if it turns out well I will tell you
all. I will catch up with you before very long."
His friend said, "No, I will stay with you. I will not go on. I love
you as a brother, and I will stay with you, and if you are going to do
some great thing I will die with you."
When _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ found that his friend was resolved to remain
with him, he yielded and told him his secret. He said to him, "My
brother, when we were on the warpath a year ago, and I took those two
spotted horses, I heard a little noise in the lodge by which they were
tied. I looked in and I saw there a girl sitting by the fire combing
her hair. She was very pretty. When I took the spotted horses away, I
could not put that girl out of my mind. I remembered her. Brother,
when we went back home that girl was constantly in my mind. I could
not forget her. I came this time on purpose to get her, even if it
shall cost me my life. She is in this camp, and I have found the lodge
where she lives."
His friend said, "My brother, whatever you say shall be done. I stay
with you. You go into the camp. I will take the horses and go to that
high rocky hill east of the camp, and will hide the horses there. When
you are in the village I will be up in one of the trees on the top of
the hill, looking down on the camp. If I hear shooting and see lots of
people running to the lodge I will know that you are killed, and I
will kill myself. I will not go home alone. If I do not see you by
noon, I will kill myself."
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ said, "It is good. If I am successful I will go up
there after you, and take you down into the camp."
They parted. The friend hid the horses and went up on the hill.
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ went into the camp.
III.
It was now the middle of the night. When he came to the lodge, he saw
there was a fire in it. He did not go in at once; he wanted the fire
to go out. He stayed around the lodge, and gradually the fire died
down. It was dark. He went into the lodge. He was painted and finely
dressed, and had his bundle with him. He took his moccasins off and
his leggings, and hung them up over the girl's bed; then strings of
beads, then five or six medals, bracelets, ear-bobs, beaded leggings,
everything he had--his shirt. He took his blanket, and spread it over
the bed where the girl was lying, stepped over the bed, and crept
under his own blanket, and lay down by her side.
When he lay down she woke up, and found that there was some one lying
by her, and she spoke to him, but he did not answer. He could not
understand her, for he did not know Comanche. She talked for a long
time, but he did not speak. Then she began to feel of him, and when
she put her hands on his head--_Pi-ta´-da_--Pawnee--an enemy! Then she
raised herself up, took a handful of grass from under the bed, spread
the fire and put the grass on it. The fire blazed up and she saw him.
Then she sprang up and took the top blanket, which was his, off the
bed, and put it about her, and sat by the fire. She called her father
and said, "Father get up; there is a man here."
The old man got up, and got his pipe and began smoking. This old man
was the Head Chief of the Comanches. He called the servant, and told
him to make a fire. The girl got up and went over to where her mother
was lying and called her. The mother got up; and they all sat by the
fire.
The old man smoked for a long time. Every now and then he would look
at the bed to see who it could be that was lying there, and then he
would look at all the things hanging up over the bed--at the medals
and other things. He did not know what they were for, and he wondered.
At length the old man told the servant to go and call the chiefs of
the tribe, and tell them to come to his lodge.
Presently the chiefs came in one by one and sat down. When they had
come there was still one brave who ought to have come that was not
there. His name was Skin Shirt; the father wanted him. He sent for him
three times. He sent word back to the chief to go on with the council,
and that he would agree to whatever they decided. The fourth time he
was sent for he came, and took a seat by the chief, the girl's father.
This brave spoke to _Kut-a´wi-kutz_, and told him to get up, and take
a seat among them. He did so. The girl was sitting on the other side
of the fire. When he got up, he had to take the blanket that was left,
which was the girl's. He put it around him, and sat down among them.
When the chiefs came in, there was among them a Pawnee who had been
captured long ago and adopted by the Comanches, and was now himself a
chief; he talked with _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ and interpreted for him, telling
him everything that was said as each one spoke.
After the young man had seated himself, the chief filled his pipe, and
gave the pipe to his brave to decide what should be done with this
enemy. The brave took the pipe, but he did not wish to decide, so he
did not light it, but passed it on to another chief to decide. He
passed it on to another, and he to another, and so it went until the
pipe came back to the Head Chief. When he got it again, he asked
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_, "Why have you come here this night and lain down in
my lodge, you who are an enemy to my people? And why have you hung up
in the lodge all these strange things which we see here? I do not
understand it, and I wish to know your reasons."
The boy said to him, "A long time ago I came south on the warpath to
steal horses. I traveled until I came to your camp. I saw three horses
tied outside a lodge, two spotted horses and a gray. While I was
cutting one of the ropes, I heard a little noise inside the lodge, and
pushing aside the door I looked in, and saw that girl combing her
hair. I stole the two spotted horses, and took them out of the camp,
and gave them to a friend of mine, and came back to your lodge, and
kept looking at the girl. I stayed there until she went to bed. For a
long year I have been buying presents; beads and many other things,
for I had made up my mind that I would go after this girl. I came down
here to find her. I have been to where you were camped last year, and
to two other camps that I discovered. She was not in these and I left
them, and came on until I found the right camp. This is the fourth
place. Now I am here. I made up my mind to do this thing, and if her
relations do not like it they can do as they please. I would be happy
to die on her account."
When he had spoken the old chief laughed. He said: "Those two spotted
horses that you stole I did not care much about. The gray horse was
the best one of the three, and you left him. I was glad that you did
not take him. He was the best of all." Then for a little while there
was silence in the lodge.
Then the chief, the girl's father, began to talk again; he said, "If I
wanted to decide what should be done with this man, I would decide
right now, but here is my brave, Skin Shirt, I want him to decide. If
I were to decide, it would be against this man, but he has my
daughter's blanket on, and she has his, and I do not want to decide. I
pass the pipe to my brave, and want him to light it."
The brave said, "I want this chief next to me to decide," and he
passed him the pipe, and so it went on around the circle until it came
to the Head Chief again. He was just about to take it and decide the
question, when they heard outside the lodge the noise made by some one
coming, shouting and laughing; then the door was pushed aside and an
old man came in, and as he passed the door he stumbled and fell on
his knees. It was the girl's grandfather. He had been outside the
lodge, listening.
The pipe was passed to the chief, and he gave it again to his brave to
decide. While the brave was sitting there, holding the pipe, the old
grandfather said, "Give me the pipe, if you men cannot decide, let me
do it. In my time we did not do things this way. I never passed the
pipe; I could always decide for myself."
Then Skin Shirt passed him the pipe, and he lit it and smoked. Then he
said, "I do not wish to condemn to death a man who is wearing my
granddaughter's blanket." The interpreter began to tell
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ that the old man was going to decide in his favor, and
that when he got through speaking he must get up and pass his hands
over him, and thank him for taking pity on him, and so to all the
others. The old man continued, "Now, chiefs, do not think hardly of
what I am going to say, nor be dissatisfied with my decision. I am
old. I have heard in my time that there is a tribe up north that is
raising from the ground something that is long and white, and
something that is round; and that these things are good to eat. Now,
chiefs, before I die, I want to eat of these things, and I want my
granddaughter to go and take her seat by this man, and for them to be
man and wife. Since I was young we have been enemies, but now I want
the two tribes to come together, join hands and be friends." And so it
was decided.
The young man got up and passed his hands over the old man, and over
the brave, and passed around the circle and blessed them all. The
Pawnee, who was interpreter, now told him to get up, and get a medal
and put it on the brave, and then another and put it on the chief, and
so on until all the presents were gone. And he did so, and put on them
the medals, and ear-rings, and strings of beads, and breast-plates of
wampum, until each had something. And these things were new to them,
and they felt proud to be wearing them, and thought how nice they
looked.
IV.
By this time it was daylight, and it had got noised abroad through the
camp that there was a Pawnee at the Head Chief's lodge, and all the
people gathered there. They called out, "Bring him out; we want him
out here." They crowded about the lodge, all the people, the old men
and the women and the young men, so many that at last they pushed the
lodge down. They shouted: "Let us have the Pawnee. Last night they
stole many horses from us." The chiefs and braves got around the
Pawnee, and kept the Comanches off from him, and protected him from
the people. The Cheyennes were camped close by, near the hill
southeast of the Comanches, and they, too, had heard that the
Comanches had a Pawnee in the camp. They came over, and rode about in
the crowd to try and get the Pawnee, and they rode over a Comanche or
two, and knocked them down. So Skin Shirt got his bow and arrows, and
jumped on his horse, and rode out and drove the Cheyennes away back to
their camp again.
The Cheyennes saw that the Comanches did not want the Pawnee killed,
so they sent a message inviting him over to a feast with them,
intending to kill him, but Skin Shirt told them that he was married
into the tribe. While the Cheyennes were parading round the Comanche
camp, they were shooting off their guns in the air, just to make a
noise. Now, the young Pawnee on the hill, who was watching the camp to
see what would happen to his friend, saw the crowd and heard the
shooting, and made up his mind that _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ had been killed.
So he took his knife, and put the handle against a tree and the point
against his breast, and put his arms around the tree and hugged it,
and the knife blade passed through his heart and he fell down and
died.
In the afternoon when all the excitement had quieted down, the
Cheyennes came over again to the Comanche camp, and invited the Pawnee
and his wife to go to their village, and visit with them. Then Skin
Shirt said, "All right, we will go." Three chiefs of the Comanches
went ahead, the Pawnee followed with his wife, and Skin Shirt went
behind. They went to the Cheyenne camp. The Cheyennes received them
and made a great feast for them, and gave the Pawnee many horses. Then
they went back to the Comanche camp. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ never went up to
the hill until the next morning. Then he went, singing the song he had
told his friend he would sing. He called to him, but there was no
reply. He called again. It was all silent. He looked for his friend,
and at last he found him there dead at the foot of the tree.
V.
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ then stayed with the Comanches. The Cheyennes came
north and east, and the Comanches went on west, nearer to the
mountains. While the Pawnee was with the Comanches, they had several
wars with the Utes, Lipans and Tonkaways. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ proved
himself a brave man, and, as the son-in-law of the chief, he soon
gained great influence, and was himself made a chief.
After some years the old man, his wife's grandfather, told the Pawnee
that he thought it was time that he should eat some of those things
that he had long wanted to eat that grew up north; that he was getting
pretty old now. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ said, "It is time. We will go." So he
had his horses packed, and with his immediate family and the old man,
started north toward the Pawnee country. At this time he was called
_Kut-a´wi-kutz-u si-ti´-da-rit_, which means "See! The Hawk." When
going into battle he would ride straight out to strike his enemy, and
the Comanches who were looking at him would say, "See! The Hawk." So
that became his name.
They traveled a long time until they came to the Pawnee ground. As
they were traveling along, they came to a field where were growing
corn, beans and squashes. The Pawnee said to the old man,
"Grandfather, look at that field. There are the things that you have
desired to eat." He got off his horse and went into the field, and
pulled some corn, some beans and some squashes, and took them to the
old man, and gave them to him. The old man supposed they were to be
eaten just as they were, and he tried to bite the squashes. This made
the Pawnee laugh. When they came to the village, the Pawnees were very
glad to see him who had been lost long ago. He told the people that he
had brought these Indians to eat of the corn and other things; that
they were his kinsfolk. He told them, too, about the young man who had
killed himself. His relations went out into the fields, and gathered
corn and beans and squashes, and cooked them for the Comanches.
They stayed there a long time at the Pawnee village. When they were
getting ready to return, the Pawnees dried their corn, and gave a
great deal of it to the Comanches, packing many horses with it for the
Indians at home. Then the Comanches started south again, and some of
the Pawnee young men, relations of _Kut-a´wi-kutz_, joined him, and
went back with them. After they had returned to the Comanche camp, the
old grandfather died, happy because he had eaten the things he wanted
to eat.
Soon after this, _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ started back to the Pawnee village,
and some young men of the Comanches joined him. Some time after
reaching the village he went south again, accompanied by some young
Pawnees, but leaving most of the Comanches behind. He had arranged
with the chiefs of the Pawnees that they should journey south, meet
the Comanches on the plains and make peace. When he reached the
Comanches, the whole village started north to visit the Pawnees, and
met them on their way south. When they met, the two tribes made
friends, smoked together, ate together, became friends.
After they had camped together for some time, some Comanches stayed in
the Pawnee camp, and some Pawnees in the Comanche camp.
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ was called by the Pawnees Comanche Chief. He would
have remained with the Comanches, but when he went back with them his
wife fell sick. The Comanche doctors could not help her, and he wanted
to take her north to see the Pawnee doctors, but the Comanches would
not let him. They kept him there, and his wife died. Then he was
angry, for he thought if he had taken her north her life might have
been saved.
So he left the Comanches, and went and lived with the Pawnees, and was
known among them always as Comanche Chief, the Peace-Maker, because he
made peace between the Pawnees and Comanches. He was chief of the
Ski´-di band, and a progressive man of modern times. He sent his
children East to school at Carlisle, Pa.
Comanche Chief died September 9th, 1888.
[Illustration: PAWNEE PIPE.]
LONE CHIEF.
Skür´-ar-a Le-shar.
I.
Lone Chief was the son of the chief of the Kit-ke-hahk´-i band. His
father died when the boy was very young, less than a year old. Until
he was old enough to go to war, his mother had supported him by
farming--raising corn, beans and pumpkins. She taught the boy many
things, and advised him how to live and how to act so that he might be
successful. She used to say to him, "You must trust always in
_Ti-ra´-wa_. He made us, and through him we live. When you grow up,
you must be a man. Be brave, and face whatever danger may meet you. Do
not forget, when you look back to your young days, that I have raised
you, and always supported you. You had no father to do it. Your father
was a chief, but you must not think of that. Because he was a chief,
it does not follow that you will be one. It is not the man who stays
in the lodge that becomes great; it is the man who works, who sweats,
who is always tired from going on the warpath."
Much good advice his mother gave him. She said, "When you get to be a
man, remember that it is his ambition that makes the man. If you go on
the warpath, do not turn around when you have gone part way, but go on
as far as you were going, and then come back. If I should live to see
you become a man, I want you to become a great man. I want you to
think about the hard times we have been through. Take pity on people
who are poor, because we have been poor, and people have taken pity on
us. If I live to see you a man, and to go off on the warpath, I would
not cry if I were to hear that you had been killed in battle. That is
what makes a man: to fight and to be brave. I should be sorry to see
you die from sickness. If you are killed, I would rather have you die
in the open air, so that the birds of the air will eat your flesh, and
the wind will breathe on you and blow over your bones. It is better to
be killed in the open air than to be smothered in the earth. Love your
friend and never desert him. If you see him surrounded by the enemy,
do not run away. Go to him, and if you cannot save him, be killed
together, and let your bones lie side by side. Be killed on a hill;
high up. Your grandfather said it is not manly to be killed in a
hollow. It is not a man who is talking to you, advising you. Heed my
words, even if I am a woman."
The boy listened to these words, and he did not forget them.
II.
In the year 1867 he enlisted in the Pawnee Scouts under Major Frank
North, and served in L. H. North's company. He was always a good
soldier, ready, willing and brave. At a fight near the Cheyenne Pass
in 1867, he counted _coup_ on a woman and a man, Arapahoes who had
stolen some horses at Fort Laramie.
At this time the boy's name was _Wi-ti-ti le-shar´-uspi_, Running
Chief. After he came back from this scout, he went on a war party of
which Left Hand was the leader, and they went to the Osage country. He
was no longer a servant, but a scout, a leading man in the party, one
of those who went ahead as spies. He had good judgment and understood
his duties. When they came to the Osage country, he was selected as
one of the leaders of a small branch party to steal horses. His party
took thirty head of horses. In the Osage country the young men were
not allowed to take all the horses they could. On account of the few
fords where they could cross the streams, they could not take a big
herd, but only what they could ride and lead, and at the same time go
fast. Across one river there was only one rocky ford, and over another
stream with deep banks there was only one rocky ford where they could
cross. Because they did not know this, in former times many Pawnees
had been caught and killed in the Osage country. So now they took but
few horses at a time, because these rivers were very deep and no one
could cross them except at these rock fords. Out of the horses taken
at this time Running Chief obtained one of the best and fastest ever
known among the Pawnees--a cream-colored horse, long famous in the
tribe. For his skillful leadership of this party he was given much
credit.
After returning home--the same year--he led a party to go off on the
warpath to the Cheyennes. He found a camp on the headwaters of the
North Canadian, and his party took seven horses, but these horses
looked thin and rough, and he was not satisfied with them; he was
ashamed to go home with only these. He told his party to take them
home, but that he was going off by himself to get some better ones. He
had with him a friend, with whom he had grown up, and whom he loved.
This young man was like a brother to Running Chief. These two went off
together, and went to the Osage camp, and staid about it for three
nights, and then took five horses, the best in the camp. They took
them back to the village. It was customary for the leading man in a
party to make a sacrifice to _Ti-ra´-wa_. Running Chief did this,
giving one horse to the chief priest. This sacrifice promoted him to
be a warrior.
III.
The next year he led a party again to the Osage country. He took some
horses and brought them home. This same year (1868) a party started
south. He was not the leader, but he went with them. They went to the
Wichita, Comanche and Kiowa villages--they were all camped
together--stole some horses and started back with them. Before they
had gone very far Running Chief stopped and said he was going back.
His friend was with the party, and when he found that Running Chief
had resolved to go back he said, "I will stop here with you."
The two went back toward the village that they had just left, and
climbed a hill that stood near it, and hid themselves there. They
waited, watching, for they had not decided what they would do. The
next day in the afternoon they began to get hungry, and they began to
talk together. Running Chief said to his friend, "My brother, are you
poor in your mind?[1] Do you feel like doing some great
thing--something that is very dangerous?"
[1] Poor in mind; _i. e._, despondent, unhappy, miserable.
His friend answered at once, "Yes, I am poor. I am ready. Why do you
ask me?"
Running Chief thought a little while before he answered, and as he
thought, all the pain and suffering of his life seemed to rise up
before him, so that he could see it. He remembered how he had been a
poor boy, supported by his mother, and all that they two had suffered
together while he was yet a child. He remembered how his sister had
been killed when he was a boy only ten years old, and how he had
mourned for her, when her husband, who was jealous of her, had shot
her through the body with an arrow and killed her. She was the only
sister he had, and he had loved her. He felt that he was poor now,
and that there was no hope of anything better for him, and he did not
want to live any longer. After he had thought of all these things he
said to his friend, "My life is not worth anything to me;" and then he
told him of his bad feelings. Finally he said, "Now you go off and
leave me here alone. I am tired of living, but you go home. You have
relations who would mourn for you. I do not want you to lose your life
on my account."
His friend answered him, "I will not go away from you. We have grown
up together, and I will stick to you. Wherever you go I will go, and
whatever you do I will do."