THE CABIN NEAR CHICAGO.
Jasper and Waubeno crossed the prairies to Lake Michigan. It was June,
the high tide of the year. The long days poured their sunlight over the
seas of flowers. The prairie winds were cool, and the new vegetation was
alive with insects and birds.
The first influence that Jasper tried to exert on Waubeno was to induce
him to forego the fixed resolution to avenge his father's death.
"The first thing in education," he used to say, "is conscience, the
second is the heart, and the third is the head."
He had planned to teach Waubeno while the Indian boy should be teaching
him, and he wished to follow his own theory that a new pupil should
first learn to be governed by his moral sense.
"Waubeno," he said, in their long walk over the prairie, "I wish to
teach you and make you wise, but before I can do you justice you must
make a promise. Will you, Waubeno?"
"I will. You would not ask me to do what is wrong."
"It may be a hard thing, but, Waubeno, I wish you to promise me that
you will never seek to avenge your father. Will you, Waubeno?"
"Parable, I will promise you any right thing but that. I have made
another promise about that thing--it must hold."
"Waubeno, I can not teach you as I would while you carry malice in your
heart. The soul does not see clearly that is dark with evil. Do you see?
I wish it for your good."
"The white man punishes his enemies, does he not? Why should not I
avenge a wrong? The white fathers at Malden" (the trade-post on Lake
Erie) "avenge every wrong that is done them by the Indians, do they
not?"
"Christ died for his enemies. He forgave them, dying. You have heard."
"Then why do his followers not do the same?"
"They do."
"I have never seen one who did."
"Not one?"
"No, not one."
"Then they are false to the cross. Waubeno, I love you. I am seeking
your good. Trust me. I would make you any promise that I could. Make me
this promise, and then we will be brothers. Your vow rises between us
like a cloud."
"Parable, listen. I will promise, on one condition."
"What, Waubeno?"
"You say that right is might, Parable?"
"Yes."
"_When I find a single white man who defends an Indian to his own hurt
because it is right, I will promise._ I have known many white men who
defended the Indian because they thought that it was good for them to
do it--good for their pockets, good for their church, good for their
souls in another world--but never one to his own harm, because it was
right; listen, Parable--never one to his own harm because it was right.
When I meet one--such a one--I will promise you what you ask. Parable,
my folks did right because it was right."
"Waubeno, I once knew a boy who defended a turtle to his own harm,
because it was right. The boys laughed at him, but his soul was true to
the turtle."
"I would like to meet that boy," Waubeno said. "He and I would be
brothers. But I have never seen such a boy, Parable. I have never seen
any man who had the worth of my own father, and, till I do, I shall hold
to my vow to him! God heard that vow, and he shall see that I prove true
to a man who died for the truth!"
The two came in sight of blue Lake Michigan, where the old Jesuit
explorer had had a vision of a great city; and where Point au Sable, the
San Domingo negro, for a time settled, hoping to be made an Indian king.
Here he found the hospitable roofs of John Kinzie, the pioneer of
Chicago, the Romulus of the great mid-continent city, where storehouses
abounded with peltries and furs.
John Kinzie (the father of the famous John H. Kinzie) was a grand
pioneer, like the Pilgrim Fathers of the elder day. He dealt honestly
with the Indians, and won the hearts of the several tribes. He settled
in Chicago in 1804, at which time a block-house was built by the
Government as a frontier house or garrison. This frontier house stood
near the present Rush Street Bridge. Mr. Kinzie's house stood on the
north side of the Chicago River, opposite the fort. The storm-beaten
block-house was to be seen in Chicago as late as 1857, and the place of
Mr. Kinzie's home will ever be held as sacred ground. The frontier house
was known as Fort Dearborn. A little settlement grew around the fort and
the hospitable doors of Mr. Kinzie, until in 1830 it numbered twelve
houses. Twelve houses in Chicago in 1830! Pass the bridge of sixty
years, and lo! the rival city of the Western world, with its more than a
million people--more than fulfilling the old missionary's dream!
For twenty years John Kinzie was the only white man not connected with
the garrison and trading-post who lived in northern Illinois. He was a
witness of the Indian massacre of the troops in 1812, when he himself
was driven from his home by the lake.
He saw another and different scene in August, 1821--a scene worthy of a
poet or painter--the Great Treaty, in which the Indian chiefs gave up
most of their empire east of the Mississippi. There came to this
decisive convocation the plumes of the Ottawas, Chippewas, and
Pottawattamies. General Cass was there, and the old Indian agents. The
chiefs brought with them their great warriors, their wives and children.
There the prairie Indians made their last stand but one against the
march of emigration to the Mississippi.
Me-te-nay, the young orator of the Pottawattamies, was there, to make a
poetic appeal for his race. But the counsels of the white chiefs were
too persuasive and powerful. A treaty was concluded, which virtually
gave up the Indian empire east of the Mississippi.
Then the chiefs and the warriors departed, their red plumes
disappearing over the prairie in the sunset light. Before them rolled
the Mississippi. Behind them lay the blue seas of the lakes. It was a
sorrowful procession that slowly faded away. Some twelve years after, in
August, 1835, another treaty was concluded with the remaining tribes,
and there occurred the last dance of the Pottawattamies on the grounds
where the city of Chicago now stands.
Five thousand Indians were present, and nearly one thousand joined in
the dance. The latter assembled at the council-house, on the place where
now is the northeast corner of North Water and Rush Streets, and where
the Lake House stands. Their faces were painted in black and vermilion;
their hair was gathered in scalp-locks on the tops of their heads, and
was decorated with Indian plumes. They were led by drums and rattles.
They marched in a dancing movement along the river, and stopped before
each house to perform the grotesque figures of their ancient traditions.
They seemed to be aware that this was their last gathering on the lake.
The thought fired them. Says one who saw them:
"Their eyes were wild and bloodshot. Their muscles stood out in great,
hard knots, as if wrought to a tension that must burst them. Their
tomahawks and clubs were thrown and brandished in every direction."
The dance was carried on in a procession through the peaceful streets,
and was concluded at Fort Dearborn in presence of the officers and
soldiers of the garrison. It was the last great Indian gathering on the
lake.
A new civilization began in the vast empire of the inland seas with the
signing of the Treaty of Chicago and these concluding rites. Around the
home of pastoral John Kinzie were to gather the new emigrations of the
nations of the world, and the Queen City of the Lakes was to rise, and
Progress to make the seat of her empire here. Never in the history of
mankind did a city leap into life like this, which is now setting on her
brow the crown of the Columbus domes.
On the arrival of Jasper and Waubeno at Fort Dearborn, an incident
occurred which affords a picture of the vanished days of the prairie
chiefs and kings. There came riding up to the trading-houses a
middle-aged chief named Shaubena.
This chief may be said to have been the guardian spirit of the infant
city of Chicago. He hovered around her for her good for a half-century,
and was faithful to her interests from the first to the end of his long
life. If ever an Indian merited a statue or an imperishable memorial in
a great city, it is Shaubena.
He was born about the year 1775, on the Kankakee River. His home was on
a prairie island, as a growth of timber surrounded by a prairie used to
be called. It was near the head-waters of Big Indian Creek, now in De
Kalb County. This grove, or prairie island, still bears his name.
Here were his corn-fields, his sugar-camps, his lodges, and his happy
people. In his youth he had been employed by two Ottawa priests, or
prophets, to instruct the people in the principles of their religion,
and so he had traveled extensively in the land of the lakes, and spoke
English well. The old Methodist circuit-riders used to visit him on his
prairie island, and his family was brought under their influence and
accepted their faith. When, in 1812, Indian runners from Tecumseh
visited the tribal towns of the Illinois River to tell the warriors that
war had been declared between the United States and England, and to
counsel them to unite with the English, Shaubena endeavored to restrain
his people from such a course, and to prevent a union of the tribes
against the American settlers. When he found that the Indians were
marching against Chicago, he followed them on his pony.
He arrived too late. A scene of blood met his eyes. Along the lake,
where the blue waves rolled in the sun, lay forty-two dead bodies, the
remains of white soldiers, women, and children. These bodies lay on the
prairie for four years, until the rebuilding of Fort Dearborn in 1816,
with the exception of the mutilated remains of Captain Wells, which
Black Partridge buried.
John Kinzie and his family had been saved, largely by the influence of
Shaubena. Black Partridge summoned his warriors to protect the house.
Shaubena rushed up to the porch-steps and set his rifle across the
doorway. The rooms were occupied by Mrs. Kinzie, her children, and Mrs.
Helm. A party of excited Indians rushed upon the place and forced their
way into the house, to kill the women. The intended massacre was delayed
by the friendly Indians.
In the mean time a half-breed girl, who had been employed by good John
Kinzie, and who was devoted to his family, had stolen across the prairie
to Sauganash, or Billy Caldwell, the friendly chief. This warrior seized
his canoe and came paddling down the waters, plumed with eagle-feathers,
with a rifle in his hand. He rose up in his canoe, in the dark, as he
came to the shore.
"Who are you?" asked Black Partridge.
"I am Sauganash."
"Then save your white friends. You only can save them."
The chief came to the house.
"Go!" he said to the Indians. "I am Sauganash!"
John Kinzie was not only ever after grateful to Sauganash and the
half-breed girl for what they had done to save him and his family, but
he saw that he had found a faithful heart in Shaubena. So when, to-day,
Shaubena came riding up to his door from his prairie island on his
little pony, he said, heartily:
"Shaubena, thou art welcome!"
Jasper and Waubeno joined John Kinzie and the prairie chief.
"Thou, too art welcome," said John Kinzie. "Whence do you come?"
Jasper told again his simple story: how that he was a Tunker, traveling
to preach to every one, and to hold schools among the Indians; how that
he had been to Black Hawk for an interpreter and guide, and how Black
Hawk had sent out Waubeno as his companion.
Jasper and Waubeno built a cabin of logs, bark, and bushes, in view of
the lake, a little distance above the fort. They spent several days on
the rude structure.
"There are many Indian children who come to the trading-post," said
Jasper, "and I may be able to begin here my first Indian school. You
will do all you can for me, will you not, Waubeno?"
"Parable, listen! You love my people, and I will do all that this arm,
this heart, and this head can do for you. Whatever may happen, I will be
true to you. If it costs my life, I will be true to you! You may have my
life. Do you not believe Waubeno?"
"Yes, I believe you, Waubeno. You hold honor dearer than life. You say
that I love your people. You know that I would do right by your people,
to my own harm. Then why will you not make to me the promise I sought
from you on the prairie?"
"I have not seen you tried. We know not any one until he is tried. My
father was tried. He was true. I would talk with the boy that was
laughed at for defending the turtle. He was tried. He did right because
it was right. We will know each other better by and by. But Waubeno will
always be true to you while you are true to Waubeno."
The school opened in the new cabin about the time that the troops were
withdrawn from the fort and the place left in the charge of the Indian
agent. Waubeno was the teacher, and Jasper his only pupil. After a time
Jasper secured a few pupils from the post-trading Indians. But these
remained but for a short time. They did not like the confinement of
instruction.
One day a striking event occurred. The Indian agent came to visit the
school. He was interested in the Indian boys, and especially in the
progress of Waubeno, who was quick to learn. Before leaving, he said:
"I have a medal in my hand. It was given to me by the general of
Michigan. On one side of it is the Father of his Country--see him with
his sword--Washington, the immortal Washington."
He held up the medal and paused.
"On the other side is an Indian chief. He is burying his hatchet. I was
given the medal as a reward, and I will give it at the end of three
weeks to the boy in this school who best learns his lessons. Jasper
shall decide who it shall be."
"I am glad you have said that," said Jasper. "That is the education of
good-will. I am glad."
The Indian boys studied well, but Waubeno excelled them all. At the end
of three weeks the Indian agent again appeared, and Jasper hoped to gain
the heart of Waubeno by the award of the medal.
"To whom shall I give the medal?" asked the agent, at the end of the
visit.
Jasper looked at his boy.
"It has been won by Waubeno," said Jasper. "I would be unjust not to say
that all have been faithful, but Waubeno has been the most faithful of
all."
Waubeno sat like a statue. He did not lift his eyes.
"Waubeno," said the agent, "you have heard what your teacher has said.
The medal is yours. Here it is. You have reason to be proud of it.
Waubeno, arise."
Waubeno arose. The agent held out the medal to him.
"Will you let me look at the medal?" said the boy.
The medal was handed to him. He examined it. He did not smile, or show
any emotion. His look was indifferent and stoical. What was passing in
his mind?
"The Indian chief is burying his hatchet, in the picture on this side of
the medal," he said, slowly.
"Yes," said the Indian agent, "he is a good chief."
"The picture on this side represents Washington, you say?"
"Yes--Washington, the Father of his Country."
"He has a sword by his side, general, has he not? See."
"Yes, Waubeno, he has a sword by his side."
"He is a good chief, too?"
"Yes, Waubeno."
"Then why does he not bury his sword? I do not want the medal. What is
good for the red chief should be as good for the white chief. I would be
unlike my father to take a mean thing like that."
He stood like a statue, with curled lip and a fiery eye. The agent
looked queerly at Jasper. He had nothing more to say. He took back the
medal and went away. When he had gone, Waubeno said to Jasper:
"Pardon, brother; _he_ is not _the_ man--my promise to my father holds.
They teach well, but they do not do well: it is the doing that speaks to
the heart. The chief that buried his hatchet is a plumb fool, else the
white chief would do so too. I have spoken!"
He sat down in silence and looked out upon the lake, on which the waves
were breaking into foam in the purple distances. His face had an injured
look, and his eyes glowed.
He arose at last and raised his hand, and said:
"I will pay them all some day!--"
Then he turned to Jasper and marked his disappointed face, and added:
"I will be true to you. Waubeno will be true to you."