mind what to do. He thought to himself, "This, my friend, will stay
with me. I do not want to be the cause of his death." So he
considered. Finally he said to his friend, "If I shall make up my mind
to go to some place where there is great danger, I shall go."
His friend said, "I will go with you."
Running Chief thought again, and at last he said, "On account of my
feelings I have decided to go into the camp of my enemies, and be
eaten by their dogs."
The other man said, "Whatever you have determined on I also will do."
IV.
Then they jumped up out of the hole they were hiding in, and tied up
their waists, and prepared to start. They were not very far from a
trail which connected two villages, along which persons kept passing,
and the Indians of these villages were all about them. When they
jumped up to go toward the trail, they saw four or five persons
passing at a little distance. When they saw these people, Running
Chief called out to them, "_High--eigh_," and made motions for them to
come to him. He wanted to show his strong will, and that on account of
his bad feelings he wished to have his troubles ended right there. He
called to them twice, and each time the Indians stopped and looked at
the Pawnees, and then went on. They did not know who it was that was
calling them; perhaps they thought the Pawnees were two squaws.
The two young men went out to the trail and followed these persons
toward the village. They went over a little hill, and as soon as they
had come to the top and looked over it, they saw the village. On this
side of it, and nearest to them were three lodges. At the foot of the
hill was a river, which they must cross to come to these three lodges.
When they came to the river, the friend asked; "Shall we take off our
moccasins and leggings to cross?" Running Chief replied, "Why should I
take off my moccasins and leggings when I know that my life is just
going over a precipice? Let us go in as we are." So they crossed with
moccasins and leggings on. The river was only half-leg deep.
Just as they reached the further bank, all on a sudden, it came over
Running Chief what they were doing--that they were going to certain
death. All his courage seemed to leave him, and he felt as if he had
no bones in his body. Then for a moment he faltered; but he could not
give up now. He felt that if he was a man he must go forward; he could
not turn back. He stopped for an instant; and his friend looked at
him, and said, "Come, let us hurry on. We are near the lodges." He
stepped forward then, but his feet seemed to be heavy and to drag on
the ground. He walked as if he were asleep.
There was no one about near at hand, and as they went forward Running
Chief prayed with all his mind to _Ti-ra´-wa_ that no one might come
until they had reached the lodge, and had got inside. When they had
got to within about one hundred yards of the lodge, a little boy came
out, and began to play around the door, and when they were about fifty
yards from him he saw them. As soon as he looked at them, he knew that
they did not belong to the camp, and he gave a kind of a scream and
darted into the lodge, but no one came out. The people within paid no
attention to the boy. As they walked toward the lodges Running Chief
seemed not to know where he was, but to be walking in a dream. He
thought of nothing except his longing to get to this lodge.
They went to the largest of the three lodges. Running Chief raised the
door and put his head in, and as he did so, it seemed as if his breath
stopped. He went in and sat down far back in the lodge, opposite the
entrance, and though his breath was stopped, his heart was beating
like a drum. His friend had followed him in, and sat down beside him.
Both had their bows in their hands, strung, and a sheaf of arrows.
When they entered the lodge, the man who was lying down at the back of
the lodge uttered a loud exclamation, "_Woof_," and then seemed struck
dumb. A plate of corn mush had just been handed him, but he did not
take it, and it sat there on the ground by him. One woman was just
raising a buffalo horn spoon of mush to her mouth, but her hand
stopped before reaching it, and she stared at them, holding the mush
before her face. Another woman was ladling some mush into a plate, and
she held the plate in one hand and the ladle above it, and looked at
them without moving. They all seemed turned into stone.
As the two Pawnees sat there, Running Chief's breath suddenly came
back to him. Before it had all been dark about him, as if he had been
asleep; but now the clouds had cleared away, and he could see the road
ahead of him. Now he felt a man, and brave. As he looked around him,
and saw the man lying motionless, and one woman just ready to take a
mouthful, and the other woman with the ladle held over the dish, he
perceived that they could not move, they were so astonished.
At length the Wichita had come to his senses. He drew a long breath,
and sat up, and for a while looked at the two Pawnees. Then he made
some sign to them which they did not understand, but they guessed that
he was trying to ask who they were. Running Chief struck his breast,
and said, "_Pi-ta´-da_" (Pawnee). As soon as the Wichita heard that he
caught his breath, and heaved a long sigh. He did not know what to
think of two Pawnees coming into his lodge. He could not think what it
meant. He drew a long breath. He did not touch his plate of food, but
motioned a woman to take it away. Presently he called to some one in
the neighboring lodge. He was answered, and in a moment a man came in.
He called again, and another entered, and the three looked for a long
time at the two Pawnees. These were sitting motionless, but watching
like two wildcats to see what was going to happen. Each had his bow
and arrows by his side, and his knife inside his robe. At length the
owner of the lodge spoke, and one of the men went out, and after a
little they heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming, and they supposed
some one was riding up. Every now and then Running Chief would touch
his friend's knee with his own, as if to say, "Watch."
The owner of the lodge made a sign and pointed to the east and said
"_Capitan_."[2] At the same time he was dressing himself up, putting
on a pair of officer's trousers and a uniform coat. Meantime the
Pawnees heard the rattle of one saddle, and then of another. The
Wichita chief put on his blanket, and his pistol belt around it, and
then made signs for them to go out. He led the way, and the Pawnees
followed. As they went, Running Chief touched his friend, as if to
say, "Watch. They may shoot us as we go out." But when they looked out
of the lodge, the Wichita was walking toward the horses, so there was
no danger. He mounted a horse, and signed to Running Chief to get up
behind him. Another man mounted the other horse, and the friend got up
behind him.
[2] A Spanish word meaning chief.
As they rode toward the main village, it came into the mind of Running
Chief to kill the man he was riding behind, and to ride away. There
was where he had to fight his hardest battle. He was tempted to kill
this man in front of him, but he was not overpowered by this
temptation. He overcame it. He thought that perhaps he might be
mounted on a poor horse, and even if he did kill this man and his
friend the other, they might be on slow horses and be caught at once.
Every little while he would look at his friend and roll his eyes, as
if to say, "Watch on your side and I will watch on mine."
As he came near to the village, the Wichita warrior called out, and
began to sing a song, and all at once the village was in an uproar.
The men, women and children seemed to start up out of the ground, and
the lodges poured forth their inmates. Running Chief felt that he was
in danger, but he knew that he was not in as much danger as the man
before him. He could take the pistol out of the belt that he had hold
of and kill him, or he could use his own knife. The Wichita knew that
he was in danger. He knew that he was in the power of the enemy.
After the Wichita had called out to the people that they had enemies
with them, he kept on talking, saying, "Keep quiet. Do not do
anything. Wait. Keep away from me and be still. I am in danger." They
would not have listened to him, if it had not been that he was a
leading man, and a brave warrior. The riders came to the largest
lodge, which stood in the middle of the village. Here they stopped.
When Running Chief got off the horse, he held tightly the belt of the
Wichita, who dismounted; and they went together into the lodge of the
Head Chief, and the others followed and went in, and all sat down
opposite the door. All this time there was a hubbub outside. People
were flying from their lodges to that of the Head Chief, and lifting
up the edge of the lodge, and peeping under it at the Pawnees. They
chattered to each other, and called out to those who were coming; all
was noise and confusion.
V.
The under chiefs came in one by one, until all were present. Then one
of them made a speech, saying that it would be best to leave
everything to the Head Chief, and that he should decide what ought to
be done with these enemies. Then it was silent for a time, while the
Chief was making up his mind what should be done; and during this
silence Running Chief felt a touch on his shoulder, and looked behind
him, and there was handed to him under the edge of the lodge a dish of
meat. He took it and began to eat, and his companion also ate with
him. After he had eaten a few mouthfuls, he took his arrows, which he
had held in his hand, and put them in his quiver, and unstrung his bow
and laid it aside, and his friend did the same.
Then the Chief stood up and spoke to those sitting there and said,
"What can I do? They have eaten of my food. I cannot make war on
people who have been eating with me." While he was saying this,
Running Chief was again touched on the shoulder, and some one handed
him a cup of water, and he drank; and the Chief, as he saw this,
added, "and have also drunk of my water." He then turned and called to
a certain man, who could speak Pawnee, and told him to ask these men
if they were on the warpath. He asked them, "Are you on the warpath?"
and they replied, "Yes, we are on the warpath."
Then said he, "What are you here for?"
Running Chief answered, "You have plenty of dogs. I am here that my
body may be eaten by them."
When the Wichitas heard this they all made a sound, _Ah-h-h-h!_ for
they were surprised at his bravery. The Chief asked him, "Do you know
anything about the horses that were missed last night?"
He said, "Yes."
"Where are they?" said the Head Chief.
Running Chief replied, "The party have gone off with them--Pawnees."
"Were you with them?"
"Yes, I was with them, and I stopped behind on purpose to come into
your village."
The Head Chief then turned to the others and talked for a little
while. He said, "See what a brave man this is. He had resolved to die.
But he shall not die, because he has eaten our food and drunk of our
water. Although we are enemies of this man's tribe, yet we are the
same people with them, who have been apart for a long time. I cannot
help it; my heart is touched by his talk and by their bravery. By
their bravery they are safe." And all the Wichitas said "_Waugh_."
Then the Head Chief through the interpreter talked to Running Chief.
He said, "Are you a chief?"
Running Chief replied, "No, I am not a chief; I am like a dog; I am
poor."
The Head Chief said to him, "By your bravery you have saved
yourselves. You shall have the road to your home made white before
you. Let there not be one blood spot on it." Then he turned to those
who were sitting about the lodge and said, "Now, my young men, do
something for them."
A young man named Crazy Wolf stood up and spoke; and when he had
finished, the interpreter said, "That man has given you a black horse,
the best that he has."
Another young man on the other side of the lodge spoke, and the
interpreter said, "He has given you a roan horse, the best that he
has." Then all the Wichitas began to speak at once, and before they
knew it, the Pawnees had ten head of horses, and robes and blankets,
saddles, bridles, shields, spears and moccasins--many beautiful
presents. So they were well provided.
The Head Chief again stood up and talked to the assembly, praising
these Pawnees; and he stepped over to Running Chief and shook hands
with him, and when he did so, Running Chief stood up and put his arms
around the Chief and pressed him to his breast, and the Chief did the
same to him, and when Running Chief had his arms around the Chief, the
Chief trembled, and came near to crying. The Chief embraced the other
Pawnee, and looked him in the face and said, "What brave men you are!"
The friend said, "What my friend stepped, that I stepped; I trod in
his footprints; I had one mind with him."
As the Chief stepped back to his place he spoke through the
interpreter, "Now you have eaten of my food and drunk of my water.
Everything that I have is yours. My women and my children are yours.
You are not a chief, but you are a chief."[3] Then he spoke to the
crowd and they all went away, leaving only the principal men in the
lodge.
[3] You are not a chief, but you have made yourself a chief by your
great qualities.
That afternoon the Pawnees were feasted everywhere, and had to eat
till they were almost dead; and as they went about, all of their
former sadness seemed to be swept away, and Running Chief felt like
crying for joy.
While they were feasting, the man who had given the black horse went
out, and caught it up, and painted it handsomely, and rode into the
village, and put on it a silver bridle, and eagle feathers in its mane
and tail, and when Running Chief was going from one lodge to another
he met him, and jumped off the horse and said, "Brother, ride this."
He gave him also a shield and a spear.
These Pawnees staid two months with the Wichitas, and all their
troubles seemed at an end. At length Running Chief called a council of
the chiefs, and told them that now he wished to make ready to go home
to his village. He thanked them for all that they had done for him,
and said that now he would go. The chiefs said, "It is well. We are
glad that you have been with us and visited us. Take the good news
back to your tribe. Tell them that we are one people, though long
separated. Let the road between our villages be made white. Let it no
more show any spots of blood."
Running Chief thanked them and said, "I will go and take the good news
to my people. I shall show them the presents you have made us, and
tell them how well we have been treated. It may be that some of the
chiefs of my tribe will wish to come down to visit you, as I have
done." The Head Chief said, "Can I rely on your words, that I shall be
visited?" Running Chief replied, "You can rely on them if I have to
come alone to visit you again." The Chief got up and put his arms
about him, and said, "I want to be visited. Let there be no more war
between us. We are brothers; let us always be brothers." Then they
gave him many more presents, and packed his horses, and six braves
offered to go with him through the Cheyenne country. They went through
in the night. Running Chief said afterward, "I could have stolen a lot
of horses from the Cheyennes, but I thought, I will be coming back
through this country and it is better not."
At the Pawnee village these two young men had been mourned by their
relations as lost or dead. It was in the spring (March, 1869) when
they reached home, and there was joy in the tribe when they came in
with the presents. Running Chief was praised, and so was his friend.
Both had been brave and had done great things.
Now Running Chief's name was changed from _Wi-ti-ti le-shar´-uspi_ to
_Skür´-ar-a le-shar_ (Lone Chief).
VI.
The following summer in August, at the close of the summer hunt, three
hundred Pawnees, old men and young, under the leadership of Lone
Chief, visited the Wichitas, who received them well, and gave them
many horses. Lone Chief was not satisfied with the peace that he had
made with the Wichitas. He also visited the Kiowas, and made peace,
and was given by them eight fine horses. He also led his party to the
Comanches, and visited them, and got many presents. In the fall the
Pawnees returned to their village. Many of them fell sick on the way,
and some died.
In the winter of 1869-70 Lone Chief and his friend led a war party
against the Cheyennes. They took six hundred head of horses. The
Cheyennes now tell us that in the seventy-five lodges of that camp
there was not left a hoof. All night and all next day they ran the
herd. Then Lone Chief said, "Let us not run the horses any longer,
they will not come after us; they are afoot." When the party got on
the north side of the Republican, on the table lands, a terrible storm
of snow and wind came upon them, and they were nearly lost. For three
days and three nights they lay in the storm. All were frozen, some
losing toes and fingers. They survived, however, and brought in all
their horses. Again Lone Chief sacrificed to _Ti-ra´-wa_. A second
sacrifice is very unusual and a notable event.
[Illustration: OLD-FASHIONED "T. GRAY" AX.]
THE PRISONERS OF COURT HOUSE ROCK.
Court House Rock is a high, square-shaped bluff, or butte, on the
North Platte River. It is composed of a hard, yellowish clay, which is
but slowly eroded by the weather, though soft enough to be cut readily
with a knife. On all sides except one, this rock or butte is nearly or
quite vertical, and its sides, smoothed and polished by the wind and
the rain, offer no projecting points, to serve as foot or hand holds
for one who might wish to climb up or down. On one side there is a way
by which an active man may reach the summit, where he finds a flat
tableland of moderate extent.
A number of years ago a war party of Skidi, who were camped near Court
House Rock, were surprised by a party of Sioux. There were many of
them, and they drove the Skidi back, and at length these were obliged
to climb the steep side of Court House Rock. The Sioux dared not
follow them up on to the rock, but guarded the only place where it was
possible to come down, and camped all around the rock below to starve
the Skidi out. The Skidi had nothing to eat nor to drink, and suffered
terribly from hunger and still more from thirst. The leader of the
party suffered most of any, for he thought that he would surely lose
all his men. He felt that this was the worst of all. He must not only
die, but must also be disgraced, because under his leadership the
young men of his party had been lost. He used to go off at night,
apart from the others, and pray to _Ti-ra´-wa_ for help; for some way
to save his party.
One night while he was praying, something spoke to him, and said,
"Look hard for a place where you may get down from this rock, and so
save both your men and yourself." He kept on praying that night, and
when day came, he looked all along the edge of the rock for a place
where it might be possible to get down. At last he found near the edge
of the cliff a point of the soft clay rock sticking up above the level
of the rest. The side of the rock below it was straight up and down,
and smooth. At night he took his knife, and began to cut about the
base of this point of rock, and night after night he kept at this
until he had cut away the base of the point, so that it was no larger
around than a man's body. Then he secretly took all the lariats that
the party had, and tied them together, and let them down, and found
that his rope was long enough to reach the ground. He put the rope
around the point, and made a loop in it for his feet, and slowly let
himself down to the ground. He got there safely, and then climbed back
again. The next night he called his men about him, and told them how
it was, and that they might all be saved. Then he ordered the youngest
and least important man of the party to let himself down, and after
him the next youngest, and so on, up to the more important men, and
last of all the leader's turn came. He let himself down, and they all
crept through the Sioux camp and escaped.
They never knew how long the Sioux stayed there watching the rock.
Probably until they thought that the Skidi had all starved to death.
WOLVES IN THE NIGHT.
In the year 1879 Little Warrior, with a Chaui boy and a soldier, was
off scouting on the plains east of the mountains. They saw a long way
off--perhaps twenty miles--some objects that seemed to be moving. It
was one of those hot dry days in summer, when all the air is quivering
and all things are distorted by the mirage. They watched these objects
through their glasses for a long time. They seemed to move and quiver,
and they could not tell what they were, but Little Warrior thought
they were mounted men. They seemed to be traveling in the same
direction with this scouting party. At length they could see that they
were mounted men, and were driving some loose animals.
When night came, the two Pawnees left their horses with the soldier
and started on foot to look for the camp of the strangers, and to find
out who they were. They formed the plan to make themselves look like
coyotes, so that they could go close to the camp. Each took from under
his saddle a white sheet, which, when the time came, they would tie
around their bodies, having their guns inside, held under their arms,
and their pistols in their belts about their waists. It was a bright
moonlight night, the moon being so bright that it made it hard to see
far on the prairie.
The camp was found in a little hollow, and was occupied by seven Ute
Indians. They had a dog with them. The Pawnees could hear them talking
and laughing, as they sat about the big fire they had built. They
could see the horses too.
The men put on their white sheets, and getting down on all fours,
prowled about like wolves, gradually drawing nearer and nearer to the
camp. Two or three times the dog smelt them and barked, but they paid
no attention to it, but trotted hither and thither, smelling the
ground and sometimes sitting up on their haunches like wolves, and
then going on again. After a little while they came so close to the
camp that they could see that the horses were staked out, and that
there were some mules feeding about, hobbled. One of the Utes, who
noticed the wolves prowling near the camp, got his gun and shot at
the Chaui boy, but he did not hit him. The boy loped off and joined
Little Warrior behind a hill, and there the two waited.
Little Warrior said to his companion, "These men have come far to-day.
They are pretty tired. Wait and they will lie down and go to sleep."
Presently the camp quieted down and the Utes slept.
The Pawnees then made themselves wolves again, and went close to the
Ute camp. The horses were staked close to where the men were sleeping,
but the mules had wandered off a little to one side. Six mules were
together, and one was by itself on the other side of the camp. Little
Warrior went around the camp to this one, and cut its hobbles, and
then drove it slowly toward the others. Then they drove the whole
seven quietly away from the camp. If it had not been for the dog, they
could very likely have stolen the horses too, and left the Utes afoot,
and perhaps they might have been able to kill the Utes.
They drove the mules about two miles, and then went on to where they
had left their horses. They found the soldier nearly frightened to
death. He said he did not like to be left by himself in such a lonely
place; he wanted to go to camp. They told him they were going to
return and get those mules. They did so, and secured them, and drove
them in to their own camp, which they reached about six o'clock the
next morning.
It was learned afterward that fourteen mules had been stolen from a
Government train, and a reward of $200 had been offered for their
recovery. These taken by the two Pawnees were seven of the stolen
animals, and each of the men received $50 as his proportion of the
reward.
[Illustration: WHIP.]
A LEADER OF SOLDIERS.
In 1876, when the attack was made by General Mackenzie on the village
of the Cheyenne chief, Dull Knife, the Pawnee Scouts charged down on
the village on the south side of the creek, while on the north side of
the stream, a company of United States cavalry, under Lieut. McKinney,
were making a charge. Before the village was reached, Ralph J. Weeks,
an educated Pawnee, and some others of the scouts crossed the stream
and were riding near the soldiers. As they were crossing the cañon at
the mouth of which the village stood, the enemy began to fire at them
from the ravine. Lieut. McKinney was killed at the first volley, and
immediately afterward his first sergeant fell, leaving the troop
without a commander. The soldiers hesitated, stopped, and then turned
round, and began to retreat.