before the tribe started on the hunt. When she died they dressed her
up in her finest clothes, and buried her, and soon after this the
tribe started on the hunt.
A party of young men had gone off to visit another tribe, and they did
not get back until after this girl had died and the tribe had left the
village. Most of this party did not go back to the village, but met
the tribe and went with them on the hunt. Among the young men who had
been away was one who had loved this girl who had died. He went back
alone to the village. It was empty and silent, but before he reached
it, he could see, far off, some one sitting on top of a lodge. When he
came near, he saw that it was the girl he loved. He did not know that
she had died, and he wondered to see her there alone, for the time was
coming when he would be her husband and she his wife. When she saw him
coming, she came down from the top of the lodge and went inside. When
he came close to her, he spoke and said, "Why are you here alone in
the village?" She answered him, "They have gone off on the hunt. I was
sulky with my relations, and they went off and left me behind." The
man wanted her now to be his wife, but the girl said to him, "No, not
yet, but later we will be married." She said to him, "You must not be
afraid. To-night there will be dances here; the ghosts will dance."
This is an old custom of the Pawnees. When they danced they used to go
from one lodge to another, singing, dancing and hallooing. So now,
when the tribe had gone and the village was deserted, the ghosts did
this. He could hear them coming along the empty streets, and going
from one lodge to another. They came into the lodge where he was, and
danced about, and whooped and sang, and sometimes they almost touched
him, and he came pretty near being scared.
The next day, the young man persuaded the girl to go on with him, and
follow the tribe, to join it on the hunt. They started to travel
together, and she promised him that she would surely be his wife, but
not until the time came. They overtook the tribe; but before they got
to the camp, the girl stopped. She said, "Now we have arrived, but you
must go first to the village, and prepare a place for me. Where I
sleep, let it be behind a curtain. For four days and four nights I
must remain behind this curtain. Do not speak of me. Do not mention my
name to any one."
The young man left her there and went into the camp. When he got to
his lodge, he told a woman, one of his relations, to go out to a
certain place and bring in a woman, who was waiting there for him. His
relative asked him, "Who is the woman?" And to avoid speaking her
name, he told who were her father and mother. His relation, in
surprise, said, "It cannot be that girl, for she died some days before
we started on the hunt."
When the woman went to look for the girl she could not find her. The
girl had disappeared. The young man had disobeyed her, and had told
who she was. She had told him that she must stay behind a curtain for
four days, and that no one must know who she was. Instead of doing
what she had said, he told who she was, and the girl disappeared
because she was a ghost. If he had obeyed the girl, she would have
lived a second time upon earth. That same night this young man died in
sleep.
Then the people were convinced that there must be a life after this
one.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF DIRT LODGE.]
THE BOY WHO SAW A-TI´-US.
Many years ago the Pawnees started on their winter hunt. The buffalo
were scarce, and the people could get hardly any meat. It was very
cold, and the snow lay deep on the ground. The tribe traveled
southward, and crossed the Republican, but still found no buffalo.
They had eaten all the dried meat, and all the corn that they had
brought with them, and now they were starving. The sufferings of the
people were great, and the little ones began to die of hunger. Now
they began to eat their robes, and _parfleches_, and moccasins.
There was in the tribe a boy about sixteen years old, who was all
alone, and was very poor. He had no relations who could take care of
him, and he lived with a woman whose husband had been killed by the
Sioux. She had two children, a boy and a girl; and she had a good
heart, and was sorry for the poor boy. In this time of famine, these
people had scarcely anything to eat, and whenever the boy got hold of
any food, he gave it to the woman, who divided it among them all.
The tribe kept traveling southward looking for buffalo, but they had
to go very slowly, because they were all so weak. Still they found no
buffalo, and each day the young men that were sent out to look for
them climbed the highest hills, and came back at night, and reported
that they could only see the white prairie covered with snow. All this
time little ones were dying of hunger, and the men and women were
growing weaker every day.
The poor boy suffered with the rest, and at last he became so weak
that he hardly could keep up with the camp, even though it moved very
slowly. One morning he was hardly able to help the old woman pack the
lodge, and after it had been packed, he went back to the fire, and sat
down beside it, and watched the camp move slowly off across the
valley, and up over the bluffs. He thought to himself, "Why should I
go on? I can't keep up for more than a day or two longer anyhow. I may
as well stay here and die." So he gathered together the ends of the
sticks that lay by the fire, and put them on the coals, and spread his
hands over the blaze, and rubbed them together, and got warm, and then
lay down by the fire, and pretty soon he went to sleep.
When he came to himself, it was about the middle of the day, and as he
looked toward the sky he saw two spots there between him and the sun,
and he wondered what they were. As he looked at them they became
larger and larger, and at last he could see that they were birds; and
by and by, as they came still nearer, he saw that they were two swans.
The swans kept coming lower and lower, and at last they alighted on
the ground right by the fire, and walked up to where the boy lay. He
was so weak he could not get up, and they came to him, one on each
side, and stooped down, and pushed their shoulders under him, and
raised him up and put him on their backs, and then spread their broad
wings, and flew away upward. Then the boy went to sleep again.
When he awoke he was lying on the ground before a very big lodge. It
was large and high, and on it were painted pictures of many strange
animals, in beautiful colors. The boy had never seen such a fine
lodge. The air was warm here, and he felt stronger than before. He
tried to raise himself up, and after trying once or twice he got on
his feet, and walked to the door of the lodge, and went in. Opposite
the door sat _A-ti´-us_. He was very large and very handsome, and his
face was kind and gentle. He was dressed in beautiful clothes, and
wore a white buffalo robe. Behind him, from the lodge poles, hung many
strange weapons. Around the lodge on each side sat many chiefs, and
doctors, and warriors. They all wore fine clothes of white buckskin,
embroidered with beautifully colored quills. Their robes were all of
beaver skin, very beautiful.
When the boy entered the lodge, _A-ti´-us_ said to him, "_Looah,
pi-rau´, we-tüs sûks-pit_--Welcome, my son, and sit down." And he said
to one of the warriors, "Give him something to eat." The warrior took
down a beautifully painted sack of _parfleche_, and took his knife
from its sheath, and cut off a piece of dried meat about as big as
one's two fingers, and a piece of fat about the same size, and gave
them to the boy. The boy, who was so hungry, thought that this was not
very much to give to one who was starving, but took it, and began to
eat. He put the fat on the lean, and cut the pieces off, and ate for
a long time. But after he had eaten for a long time, the pieces of
meat remained the same size; and he ate all that he wanted, and then
put the pieces down, still the same size.
After the boy had finished eating, _A-ti´-us_ spoke to him. He told
him that he had seen the sufferings of his people, and had been sorry
for them; and then he told the boy what to do. So he kept the boy
there for a little while longer, and gave him some fine new clothing
and weapons, and then he told one of the warriors to send the boy
back; and the warrior led him out of the lodge to where the swans were
standing near the entrance, and the boy got on to their backs. Then
the warrior put his hand on his face, and pressed his eyelids
together, and the boy went to sleep. And by and by the boy awoke, and
found himself alone by the fire. The fire had gone out, but the ground
was still covered with snow, and it was very cold.
Now the boy felt strong, and he stood up, and started, running along
the trail which the camp had taken. That night after dark he overtook
the camp, for they traveled very slowly, and he walked through the
village till he came to the lodge where the woman was, and went in.
She was surprised to see him in his new clothes, and looking so well
and strong, and told him to sit down. There was a little fire in the
lodge, and the boy could see that the woman was cutting up something
into small pieces with her knife.
The boy said to her, "What are you doing?"
She answered, "I am going to boil our last piece of robe. After we
have eaten this there will be nothing left, and we can then only die."
The boy said nothing, but watched her for a little while, and then
stood up and went out of the lodge. The door had hardly fallen behind
him, when the woman heard a buffalo coughing, and then the breaking of
the crisp snow, as if a heavy weight was settling on it. In a moment
the boy lifted the lodge door, and came in, and sat down by the fire,
and said to the woman, "Go out and bring in some meat." The woman
looked at him, for she was astonished, but he said nothing, so she
went out, and there in the snow by the side of the lodge was a fat
buffalo cow. Then the woman's heart was glad. She skinned the cow, and
brought some of the meat into the lodge and cooked it, and they all
ate and were satisfied. The woman was good, so she sent her son to
the lodges of all her relations, and all her friends, and told them
all to come next morning to her lodge to a feast, "for," she said, "I
have plenty of meat."
So the next morning all her relations and all her friends came, so
many that they could not all get into the lodge, but some had to stand
outside, and they ate with her, and she cooked the meat of the cow for
them, and they ate until it was all gone, and they were satisfied. And
after they had done eating, they lighted their pipes and prayed,
saying, "_A-ti´-us, we´-tüs kit-tah-we_--Father, you are the ruler."
While they were smoking the poor boy called the woman's son to him,
and pointed to a high hill near the camp, and said, "_Looah,
sûks-kus-sis-pah ti-rah hah-tûr_--Run hard to the top of that hill,
and tell me what you see." So the boy threw off his robe, and smoothed
back his hair, and started, and ran as hard as he could over the snow
to the top of the hill. When he got there he shaded his eyes with his
hand, for the sun shone bright on the snow and blinded him, and he
looked east, and west, and north, and south, but he could see nothing
but the shining white snow on the prairie. After he had looked all
ways, he ran back as hard as he could to the village. When he came to
the lodge, he went to the poor boy, and said to him, "I don't see
anything but the snow." The poor boy said, "You don't look good. Go
again." So the boy started again, and ran as hard as he could to the
hilltop, and when he got there, panting, he looked all ways, long and
carefully, but still he could see nothing but the snow. So he turned
and ran back to the village, and told the poor boy again that he saw
nothing. The boy said, "You don't look good." Then he took his bow in
his hand, and put his quiver on his back, and drew his robe up under
his arm so that he could run well, and started, himself, and ran as
hard as he could to the top of the hill, and when he got there he
looked off to the south, and there, as far as he could see, the plain
was black with buffalo struggling in the deep snow. And he turned to
the village, and signaled them with his robe that buffalo were in
sight. In a few minutes all the Pawnees had seized their bows and
arrows, and were running toward him, and the women fixed the
_travois_, and took their knives, and followed. The boy waited on the
hilltop until the warriors came up, and then they went down to the
buffalo, running on the snow. The buffalo could not get away on
account of the deep snow, and the Pawnees made a great killing.
Plenty of fat meat they got, enough to last them until the summer
hunt, and plenty of warm winter robes. They did not have to move any
further, but stayed right here, killing meat and drying it until they
were all fat and strong again.
And the poor boy became a great doctor in the tribe, and got rich.
Before this the Pawnees had always had a woman chief, but when the
woman who was chief died, she named the poor boy as her successor, and
the people made him head chief of the tribe.
[Illustration: FIRE-STICK.]
HOW THE DEER LOST HIS GALL.
A long time ago, the deer and the antelope met upon the prairie. At
that time both of them had dew-claws, and both had galls. After they
had talked for a little while, each one of them began to boast about
how fast he could run. Each one, the deer and the antelope, claimed
that he could run faster than any other animal, and at length they
became very angry in their dispute, and determined that they would
have a race.
They staked their galls on the race, and it was run on the prairie.
The antelope ran the faster, and won, and took the deer's gall. The
deer felt very badly that he had lost it, and he seemed so miserable
that the antelope felt sorry for him, and to cheer him up, he took off
his dew-claws and gave them to him.
Since that time the deer has had no gall, and the antelope no
dew-claws.
* * * * *
Note.--A story somewhat similar to this is current among the Blackfeet
tribes of the northern country. In this tale the antelope won the
deer's gall, as in the Pawnee story. Then the deer said, "You have
won, but that race was not a fair one, for it was over the prairie
alone. We ought to run another race in the timber to decide which is
really the faster." They agreed to run this second race, and on it
they bet their dew-claws. The deer ran the faster through the thick
timber and over the logs, and beat the antelope, and took his
dew-claws. Since then the antelope has had no dew-claws, and the deer
no gall.
[Illustration: BOW AND ARROWS.]
YELLOW FOX.
A long time ago, while the Pawnees were on their winter hunt, a young
boy, _Kiwuk-u lah´-kahta_ (Yellow Fox), went out alone to hunt, to see
if he could kill a deer. When he left the camp in the morning, it was
warm and pleasant, but in the middle of the day a great storm of wind
and snow came up, and the flying snow hid everything, and it grew very
cold. By and by the ground was covered with snow, and the whole look
of the prairie was changed, and the boy became lost, and did not know
where he was, nor what way to go to get to the camp. All day he
walked, but he saw nothing of the camp, nor of any trail and as it
became colder and colder, he thought that he would surely freeze to
death. He thought that he must die, and that there was no hope of his
ever seeing his people again. As he was wandering along, numbed and
stiffened by the cold, and stumbling through the deep snow, he heard
behind him a curious singing sound, and in time with the singing was
the noise made by some heavy animal, running. The sounds came nearer,
and at last, close by the boy, ran a great big buffalo bull. And as he
ran near the boy, he sang a song, and as he sang, the sound of his
hoofs on the ground kept time to the measure of the song. This is what
he sang:
_A-ti-us ti-wa-ko Ru-ru! Teh-wah-hwa´-ko,_
My Father says, Go on! He keeps saying,
_Ru-ru-hwa´-hwa´, Wi-ruh-rê._
Keep going on. It will be well.
The boy's heart became strong when he heard that the Father had sent
the bull, and he followed him, and the bull led him straight to the
camp.
_NOTES ON THE PAWNEES._
NOTE.
The notes on the origin, customs and character of the Pawnees, which
follow, have been gathered during twenty years' acquaintance with this
people. They are what they profess to be; not a history of the people,
but a series of notes bearing on their mode of life in the old wild
days, an attempt to give some clues to their habits of thought, and
thus to indicate the character of the people. Such notes may be of use
to some future historian who shall have the time and the inclination
to trace out more fully the history of the Pawnees, and to tell, as it
ought to be told, the story of a people who once were great. I could
wish that it might be my privilege to undertake this congenial task,
but the constantly increasing pressure of other duties forbids me to
hope that I shall be able to do so. I feel satisfaction, however, in
being able to record the observations here set down.
In the collection of this material I had for years the assistance and
coöperation of the late Major Frank North, who always placed at my
disposal his great store of Pawnee lore. Luther H. North, his brother,
has given me a vast deal of assistance, and last spring accompanied me
to the Pawnee reservation. Without his aid this book would never have
been written. Mr. John B. Dunbar has been most kind in reading over
the chapter on the Pawnees, and has aided me with many suggestions,
besides giving me help on certain linguistic points.
Nothing is said in this volume about the Pawnee language--a subject
which is sufficiently important to deserve a volume by itself.
To every intelligent student of North American aborigines it must be a
matter of keen regret that nothing is known of the language of this
people. That a distinct linguistic stock like the Pawnee should pass
away unrecorded would be a serious misfortune, and the Bureau of
Ethnology of the Smithsonian Institution ought certainly to take some
steps to preserve a record of the Pawnee language.
Major Frank North was undoubtedly more conversant with the spoken
Pawnee tongue than any other white man has ever been. Since his death,
there is no one who is so familiar with the language as Mr. John B.
Dunbar, who has devoted much time to its study, and has made himself
acquainted not only with its vocabulary, but also with its grammar.
Born and reared among the Pawnees, familiar with them until early
manhood, a frequent visitor to the tribe in later years, he is well
fitted by interest and association to undertake the task of recording
in permanent form the unwritten speech of this people. Add to this a
long training as a student of language and history and a keen logical
mind, and we have in Mr. Dunbar the man more than all others best
fitted to undertake this difficult but most delightful task. The
Director of the Bureau of Ethnology could not easily perform a greater
service to aboriginal linguistics than to intrust to Mr. Dunbar the
labor of preparing an extended work on the Pawnee language.
THE PAWNEES.
I. RELATIONSHIPS.
Until within a few years the home of the Pawnees was in southern
Nebraska and northern Kansas. This group of tribes may be called the
main stock of the family; from them it took its name; they are its
best and longest known members. In the earlier accounts of this
people, the Pawnee Picts or Wichitas are often confounded with their
more northern relatives.
The Pawnees proper consisted at one time of three bands or tribes,
federated under a single head chief. These bands, in the order of
their importance, were: The Chau-i, the Kit-ke-hahk´-i and the
Pita-hau-erat. To these three was subsequently added--after the
northern migration of the tribes, and their settlement in northern
Kansas and Nebraska, but probably long anterior to the advent of the
whites, and by conquest--the large, powerful and intelligent allied
tribe, known as the Skidi or Pawnee Loups. These four have always been
known in the writings of the earlier explorers in the West as
respectively the Grand, the Republican, the Tapage and the Wolf
Pawnees, and they constituted the Pawnee Nation.
The three tribes first named have always been together, and their
Pawnee names, according to Major North, denoted the relative
situations of the three villages. Thus Kit-ke-hahk´-i means "on a
hill;" Chau-i, "in the middle;" Pita-hau-erat, "down the stream," or
east; and in the olden times these were the relative positions of the
different villages when the three bands were camping together. The
Kit-ke-hahk´-i village was always the westernmost of the three, the
Chau-i were next to them, and the Pita-hau-erat were furthest east.
After the incorporation of the Skidi with the Pawnees, the village of
that tribe was always placed furthest to the west, and it was spoken
of as the Upper Village, while the other bands were termed the Lower
Village Tribes.
[Illustration: GOOD CHIEF--KIT-KE-HAHK´-I.]
Of the three original bands, the Chau-i has always been first in
importance, and the head chief has been chosen from it. The
Kit-ke-hahk´-i band in numbers, importance and intelligence appear to
rank about with the Chau-i, while, on the other hand, the
Pita-hau-erat are regarded as less intelligent, responsible and worthy
than the other bands.
The Skidi are usually looked upon as more intelligent than the
Pawnees, and also as fiercer in their nature, and as making better
soldiers. The Skidi traditions, though such testimony, of course, is
not of much value, speak rather contemptuously of the prowess of the
other bands in war, and the superiority of the Skidi is grudgingly
acknowledged by the others. This is contrary to the view held by Mr.
J. B. Dunbar, who speaks of the Skidi as more intelligent than the
other bands, but as not being so good as warriors.
Besides this main group of tribes, the members of the Pawnee family,
as given by Mr. Dunbar, are the Arickaras, known also as the
Arickarees, Ricarees or Rees, the Caddos, the Huecos or Wacos, the
Keechies, the Tawaconies, and the Wichitas or Pawnee Picts. To these
may be added with some confidence the Tonkaways and the Lipans. The
Caddos, Huecos, Keechies and Tawaconies are regarded by the Pawnees as
closely connected with the Wichitas. They had but one name,
_Kiri-ku´ruks_, for all these tribes, and knew no distinction between
them. There is no doubt that the Arickaras were recently--perhaps
within a century--either a band of the Skidi tribe, or at least allied
to them as closely as the Chau-i have always been to the
Kit-ke-hahk´-i and the Pita-hau-erat. The relationship of the
Tonkaways and the Lipans has only recently been discovered, and has
come to light through the removal of the Pawnees from their home in
Nebraska to their present reservation in the Indian Territory.
In a note appended to his article on the Pawnees, published in the
_Magazine of American History_ for November, 1880, Mr. Dunbar says, "A
friend, who has had much experience with the Indians of the Southwest,
informs me that he is inclined to believe that the Lipans of Mexico
are of Pawnee stock. They have, in times past, exchanged frequent
hospitalities with the Wichitas, or Pawnee Picts, and the two
understand each other's dialects readily. The name Lipans he explains
as _li'panis_, that is, _the_ Pawnees." While this suggestion is very
interesting, so far as it goes, it scarcely furnishes sufficient
ground on which to base a genetic connection of the Lipans with the
Pawnee family. I have recently secured additional and more
satisfactory evidence of such a connection.