Pa-huk' (White Island) on the south side of the Platte River, opposite
Fremont, Nebraska; under an island in the Platte River, near Central
City (Dark Island), on the Loup Fork, opposite the mouth of Cedar River
(White Bank); and on the Solomon River, Kitz-a-witz'-uk,
(Water-on-a-Bank). This was a mound with a hole in the middle, through
which water might be seen. Articles were thrown in, as offerings to
Ti-ra'-wa. The fifth place, a hole in the side of a hill, was in Kansas.
It was indicated by a rock called Pa-hur' (Hill-that-points-the-Way).
An old story, current among the people, says that in the early days, in
one of the Pawnee tribes, was a boy, smaller than others of his age. He
refused to play with the children, preferring to spend much time alone.
His manner was strange and the child was frequently in tears. The father
and mother observed that he often pasted mud upon his head. This was the
sign of a doctor and designated faith in the earth. As the boy grew to
be a young man he appeared to have something constantly on his mind and
would fast for days, smoking and praying to Ti-ra'-wa during that time.
He doctored those who were ill, and, although rapidly becoming great,
was not proud. Nevertheless, the doctors of the tribe were jealous, and
one of them, a member of another clan, came to visit him. They ate,
talked and smoked together. The older man said:
"Now we will smoke my tobacco."
They did so, and he departed. As the summer weather came on, the young
healer began to feel sick. It was evident that the doctor had poisoned
him. He swelled up with a new disease and prayed almost unceasingly to
Ti-ra'-wa for relief. The people went on a hunt. He ascended a hill to
think and pray; and after making burnt offerings, mounted a horse which
the father had left behind, and journeyed east, instead of following the
tribe.
A few days later, the horse was sacrificed to Ti-ra'-wa and cut down the
back, so that animals could feed upon it. The unhappy young man called
upon the Na-hu'-rac to intercede for him. He traveled east to Pa-huk'
and fell asleep. A strange voice asked what he was doing there. No one
was in sight. The same thing occurred next night. The sick man answered
the voice this time, and begged for pity, but received no reply. The
fourth night something touched him and said:
"What are you doing here?"
There stood a big elk, with black eyes. It informed him that they were
directly over the home of the Na-hu'-rac. One night not long afterward a
bird came, saying:
"Come, let us go to the edge of the cut bank."
He obeyed, and the bird said:
"When I dive down, follow me."
Passing through the water, they soon stood at the entrance of a lodge
and could see a fire within. As they entered, the Na-hu'-rac made their
different noises. A bear was stationed at one side of the entrance and a
snake at the other. The head doctor was a white beaver. As they sat
down, the bird said:
"I have brought this man here and want you to take pity on him."
Taking the man's pipe, the bird held it out to the beaver. The white
beaver hesitated, but finally took the pipe. All the animals made a
sound, as if to say, "_Loo-ah_" (good). The beaver passed the pipe to
the other Na-hu'-rac and each one made a speech, saying that he had not
power to heal. None had the power. The elk then took the man to another
lodge but he was not cured. From there they went to the Loup River, to
the island in the Platte River and at last to the lodge under Center
Island; but without avail. The principal doctor said that the lodge at
Pa-huk' was the head. The bird took the man back.
The white beaver stood up and announced that he had sent the man to
others in order to see if they were equal to the lodge at Pa-huk'; then
going to the ground-dog, he extended the pipe. The ground-dog reached
out its paws, took the pipe, smoked and commanded the Pawnee to go and
sit opposite the fire. He was ordered to stand up while the Na-hu'-rac
sang and the ground-dog danced. Next they told him to lie down with his
feet toward the door. The head ground-dog jumped over him and was
observed to have a large piece of flesh in his mouth. Another dog
followed, and another, each eating a piece of flesh, until all had
passed over. This was kept up until they had eaten the swelling. The man
seemed to be dead. The head doctor spoke to the bears; they arose and
sang, then jumped on the body, shaking and pulling it around. After a
while the blood began to flow and the man breathed. He was entirely
restored to health and remained some time with the Na-hu'-rac, learning
their medical secrets. They told of the sky-house of Ti-ra'-wa and said:
"He made us; he made everything. Blow a smoke to each of the four
doctors; but blow four smokes to Ti-ra'-wa."
The man went home and got beads, pipes, tobacco and buffalo meat and
taking them back, threw them into the river to be carried down to the
Na-hu'-rac lodge at Pa-huk'; then he went to visit the doctor who had
made him ill. He said:
"When you visited me, we smoked your tobacco. To-day we will smoke
mine."
After smoking, the young medicine man went down to the river and blew
upon the ice, and in a moment, the river was full of blood. It was the
blood of the wicked doctor, whose dead body was found in the lodge,
perfectly hollow. The blood had gone into the river. The favorite of the
animals eventually became one of the most famous healers ever known in
the nation.
Priests and doctors were not identical. Priests were the mediums of
communication with Ti-ra'-wa and knew what was inside the sacred
bundles. The medicine man was called upon in case of sickness or injury.
The sacred bundles, many of which were of great age, hung opposite the
door of every house. On certain occasions, the contents formed a part of
religious ceremonies.
The Pawnees believed that the earth was first inhabited by a race of
giants, so large that they could carry buffaloes upon their backs. These
people did not acknowledge Ti-ra'-wa and grew more and more wicked. He
was angry and caused the water to rise and the ground to become soft
and the giants sank into the mud. The large bones found at different
times were thought to be their skeletons. A new race was created, from
which all nations sprang.
The Ski-di band offered human sacrifices to the morning star. A young
captive, taken in war, was selected and fattened, being treated kindly
during the days of preparation. He was permitted to know nothing of the
fate in store, until the four days' feast and dance. Old men at the ends
of the village called upon each male person to prepare bow and arrow and
be ready for the sacrifice. When the fatal day arrived, every woman had
a lance or stick, and every man held a pipe in one hand and bow and
arrow in the other.
At the west side of the village, two posts with cross poles were set up,
to which the captive was bound, hand and foot. Behind him came a man
carrying a buffalo heart and tongue, followed by a warrior with a
blazing stick, one with a bow and sacred arrow of flint, and another
with a stuffed owl. Wood was piled around upon the ground beneath the
cross poles. The man with a blazing stick lighted the fire. When it had
burned to the center of the pile, below the captive, the warrior with
bow and arrow stepped forward and shot him through, under the arms, so
that the blood would drip down upon the fire. The buffalo heart and
tongue were then placed upon the blaze. The man with the owl seized a
torch and burned the body four times, after which each male person
present shot an arrow into it, and each woman struck it with a stick.
The flesh was consumed by fire, while the people prayed.
John Greenleaf Whittier left, among his papers, a poem that has
immortalized
A LEGEND OF KANSAS.
Night had fallen upon the broad prairie--a moonless night. The chill air
vibrated with noise of barbarous laughs and yells. The measured tramp of
heavy feet and the Hoo-ah, Hi-yah of excited dancers seemed fiendish.
Dark, weird-looking figures might be seen, dimly, by the light of a
camp-fire; and in the center of the frenzied throng was a maiden, silent
and defiant. Around her feet was piled fuel for the sacrifice, for had
not the wise men of the Pawnees, who hold communion with the other
world, decreed that she should die by slow torture, to atone for
cruelties practiced by her father, a fierce chief of the Kansas Indians?
The innocent girl might not hope for pity at the hands of her nation's
bitterest foes; but she could show them how fearlessly her father's
daughter could face a horrid death; could shame their sons and warriors
by a brave, unmoved demeanor; and even now, as a small blaze started up
from the outer edge of the pile of sticks and began to creep slowly
toward the captive, the clear tones could be heard above the din,
chanting her own funeral hymn--the death song of her people.
Once in a while some old, decrepit squaw, with shrill and penetrating
voice, would heap fresh taunts upon the victim; and as the fire
brightened, upon the dusky faces might be seen the gleam of savage
hatred and of satisfied revenge. Wilder grew the howls; and still the
mournful tones resounded above the shouts of triumph. The flames closed
in around her, and they leaped up higher, toward the cross poles to
which she was bound, flashes of light revealed more fully the pale set
face of the doomed one. Now, she could feel the hot breath of fire.
Where was the Kansas chief? Had he taken refuge in the mountains of the
West and left his helpless daughter at the mercy of the enemy? Was all
hope lost? No, her quick ear caught the sound of horse's hoofs, muffled
by the soft prairie grass. The captors, with senses dulled by liquor,
kept up their shrieks of exultation. Though her heart was beating
loudly, she dared not cease the song. A moment and a brave young rider,
on his father's swiftest steed, dashed in among the dancers, hurled the
firebrands from around her and cut the thongs that bound the maiden. A
moment more, and they were safe without the startled crowd, flying over
the flower-strewn prairie, toward the country of the Kaws. In the words
of the great poet:
"Where the Kansas wanders free
By the willowy Siskadee
There their pictured tent is spread,
With the soft fur carpeted;
And that sweet young mother there
Smiling through her lavish hair,
Oft shall sing her hunter's glory,
Oft shall tell his daring story,
Till the listening Kansas maid,
Lying listless in the shade,
Dreams, perchance (for wild or tame
Woman's romance is the same),
Of some hero's circling arm
Shielding her from deadly harm;
And the Indian boy anear,
Leaning on his fishing spear,
Sees that same coy maiden bound
On the Pawnee's hunting ground--
He, upon his father's steed,
Hurrying at her cry of need--
Feels her arms around him thrown,
Feels her heart beat with his own,
And her soft breath, quick and low,
O'er his dark cheek come and go--
Hears behind the Pawnee yell
Fainter on the breezes swell--
Sees with joy the morning's beam
Flashing from his native stream,
As he drops his courser's rein
By the Kansas tent again."
John B. Dunbar, who, in relating the story, asserts that the captive was
a Comanche girl, has preserved the Indian song in honor of
Pit-a-le-shar'-u, the hero. The oft recurring portion
Lu! ti-wak'-o-le
We-tut-i-wit-a
Pit-a-le-shar'-u,
when translated, reads:
Well, he exclaimed,
You see I am come,
I, Pit-a-le-shar'-u.
Although among the fiercest of the prairie Indians, the Pawnees never
carried on an organized war against the Government. They were, however,
always on hostile terms with the Sioux, Kaws, Osages, Iowas, Sacs and
Foxes.
[Illustration: PIT-A-LE-SHAR'-U.]
In a beautiful wooded region, near the Missouri River, were the villages
of the Iowas and Sacs. A vast extent of prairie reached west and
southward. The Indians lived in huts of bark stretched over poles.
Implements for out-door work consisted of the "squaw-axe" and hoe,
purchased from traders. Iron camp kettles, wooden bowls and ladles were
the only utensils for domestic use. The tribes still clung to barbarous
customs when the Highland mission was founded; and their teacher
narrated that, at one time, a great feast was given in his honor. The
principal article of food was a savory soup. He mentally congratulated
himself on having been presented with a dish so pleasing to the taste
that he might show due appreciation of the honor conferred upon him.
Suddenly one of the hosts, in broken English, said:
"Dig deep, dig deep!" The guest did so, and dipped up a ladleful of
white worms.
Missionaries found it difficult to check the wild propensities of their
pupils; and the war of extermination continued until stopped by the
United States Government. The diary of Father Irvin, who established the
school, makes special mention of a war in 1839, and a skirmish in which
nine Pawnees were slain near Arago, Nebraska. This was, doubtless,
considered of great importance, inasmuch as the prowess of the Pawnees
made it a difficult matter for less formidable warriors to win a
victory, if the sides were equally divided as to numbers. Highland
University is now located upon the war trail over which the party
passed.
Like others of the Sioux family, the Iowas indulged in dances before
setting forth on the war-path; and upon the return, the women executed
the Scalp Dance, in which they carried, attached to poles, not only the
scalps of enemies, but also fingers, toes and other mutilated portions
of bodies.
During the period of general, if not united, efforts against the
Pawnees, there was a conflict in which a small band was besieged on all
sides, supposedly by the Sioux. The weaker party took refuge in a
ravine, where the sunflowers grew tall, and, protected by the thick
stalks, which turned the balls aside, made a brave fight for life. After
repeated attacks, the assailants withdrew, bearing the body of their
leader, who had been killed in the struggle. The Pawnees regained their
town without the loss of a man.
As immigration increased, settlers took possession of parts of their
reservation. It was the old, pitiful tale. The tribe, reduced by war and
famine, relinquished its land and reluctantly departed for the Indian
Territory. Being an agricultural as well as a courageous people, the
last of the Pawnees have developed into excellent farmers. Maize, which
was called A-ti'-ra (mother), proved, after all, to be their best
friend.
III.
THE SIOUX.
Although Minnesota has been called the "Land of the Dakotas," the Sioux,
as well as the Pawnees, roamed over the entire Mississippi Basin,
previous to its settlement; and were found, at different times, in
Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska and Iowa. They are now located principally in
South Dakota.
The word "Sioux" is of French origin. The tribes to whom it was applied
called themselves "Dakotas" meaning "allied," or "joined together." The
Indians in general, alluded to them as "cut-throats," drawing the hand
across the throat in pantomime reference.
There were three great divisions of the nation; the I-san-ya'-ti,
I-hank-ton'-wan, or Yankton, and the Ti-ton'-wan. Each division had its
dialect.
Among these Arabs of America, the chiefs were not possessed of undue
power. They might suggest, but seldom enforced; and usually depended
for influence upon popularity with the people. The Indian is by far the
most ardent advocate of liberty.
If a Dakota died, his nearest friend killed an enemy. The dead were laid
upon scaffolds and allowed to remain a certain length of time, after
which burial took place. The grief and devotion of a savage wife are
brought out in the old legend of Eagle Eye and Scarlet Dove.
Eagle Eye was the son of a famous war prophet who lived many years ago.
The young brave was a bitter foe, a warm friend and a wise counsellor.
Scarlet Dove, whom he chose as a wife, was distinguished for goodness as
well as for beauty; and in the eyes of her father, was worth the finest
of horses and blankets. Eagle Eye did not hesitate to pay the required
price; and, according to custom, prepared a lodge for his bride. Only a
few moons after the marriage they joined a hunting party passing down
the Mississippi River.
One day as the husband, watching for deer, crouched behind some bushes,
a comrade accidentally shot an arrow into his heart. The lamentations of
Scarlet Dove could be heard from afar. She cut and lacerated her flesh
in a terrible manner; and wrapping the body of her loved one in skins,
put it upon a temporary scaffold and sat beneath. The hunting party
moved. She carried the dead upon her back, and at every camp erected a
scaffold. At length they reached home, the sorrowing bride still bearing
her precious burden. She procured forks and poles and built a strong
scaffold. Hanging from this, was discovered a few days later, the body
of Scarlet Dove.
Mirrors, when first introduced among the Dakotas, were regarded as
sacred; and women were denied the privilege of gazing therein. As a
consequence, the young men of the nation became the more remarkable for
vanity, decking themselves out to an unusual degree with savage finery.
An eagle feather, with a red spot, denoted the killing of an enemy. A
notch cut in the edges of a feather painted red indicated that the
throat of an enemy had been cut. One who had seen a fight, even though
he might not have participated, was allowed to mount a feather. Horses'
tails, beads, wampum and a variety of paints were also used by way of
decoration.
The women were hard-working and submissive. Plural marriages being
fertile sources of discontent, suicides were not infrequent.
Anepetusa was an unfortunate wife, whose sad story has become a part of
the traditional history of Minnesota. When young and beautiful she
became the bride of a Dakota hunter. For a time all was peace and
contentment in the lodge. Anepetusa was a happy wife, and her joy was
increased by the birth of a child. The boy grew strong and handsome, as
the years passed by; but, at length, a deep shadow fell across the
threshold of the forest home. A second wife was purchased, and came to
share the humble habitation. All the world seemed dark to the
now-neglected woman. The child was her sole remaining comfort. An
expression of deep sorrow settled upon the once beautiful features, yet
no murmur escaped her lips. Grieving in silence, she followed her lord
and master upon a hunting expedition. He appeared utterly indifferent to
this devotion. They approached the Falls of St. Anthony. Taking the
child by the hand, Anepetusa walked out into rapid water and entered a
canoe. As they pushed into the swift current she chanted an unearthly
dirge. A moment afterward the astonished husband saw her go over the
falls. His heart was stricken with terror by the wild ringing of a death
song that could be plainly distinguished above the roaring of the
waterfall.
From that time forth, so the Dakotas said, the spirit of an Indian wife,
with a child clinging around her neck, might be seen darting into the
spray; and her death song was heard in the moaning of the winds and the
raging of the waters.
Each Dakota was supposed to have four souls. At the extinction of
physical life, one remained in or near the body, another was lodged in a
bundle containing hair and clothes of the deceased, kept by relatives
and thrown into the enemy's country, the third passed into the spirit
land, and the fourth entered the body of a child, plant or animal.
The following petition, translated by a United States interpreter, was a
typical prayer of these primitive people:
"Spirits, or ghosts, have mercy on me; and show me where I can find a
bear."
All unusual occurrences were regarded as good or evil omens. In crossing
a lake or other body of water, the Dakotas filled their pipes and
invoked the winds to be calm. According to Schoolcraft, they did not
believe in the transmigration of souls. Worship was in a natural state.
There were no images of wood. A stone was picked up, placed a few rods
from the lodge, an offering of tobacco or feathers was made, and an
entreaty for protection from some threatened evil.
O-an-tay'-hee, the supreme god, was regarded with the utmost reverence.
His name, like that of Jehovah of the Israelites, was seldom spoken. He
created the earth. Assembling the aquatic tribes, he commanded them to
bring up dirt from beneath the water, at the same time proclaiming death
to the disobedient. This would indicate that the Indian, as well as the
modern scientist, realized the fact that the earth was in a liquid state
at one period. The beaver and other animals forfeited their lives. At
last the muskrat went down and, after a long delay, returned with some
dirt, from which the earth was formed.
Taking one of his own offspring, O-an-tay'-hee ground him to powder and
sprinkled it upon the earth; many worms came forth; they were collected
and scattered again and matured into infants; these, having been
collected and scattered, became full-grown Dakotas. The bones of the
mastodon were assumed to be those of O-an-tay'-hee; and in some
medicine bags, small portions were preserved among the sacred articles.
Hay-o-kah was a powerful deity, who could kill anything he looked upon,
with his piercing eyes. There were four persons in this godhead. The
first was tall and slender, with two faces. In his hands were a bow
streaked with red lightning and a rattle of deer claws. The second, a
little old man with a cocked hat and large ears, held a yellow bow. The
third had a flute suspended from his neck; and the fourth, invisible and
mysterious, was the gentle breeze which "swayed the grass and rippled
the water."
Taku-shkan-shkan, unseen but ever present, was a revengeful,
dissimulating, wicked searcher of hearts. His favorite resorts were the
four winds.
Wah-keen-yan, a god in the form of a huge bird whose flapping wings made
thunder, lived in a tepee on a mound rising from a mountain-top in the
far West. His tepee, guarded by sentinels clothed in red down, had four
openings. A butterfly was stationed at the east, a bear at the west, a
fawn at the south and a reindeer at the north. He fashioned the first
spear and tomahawk and attempted to kill the offspring of O-an-tay'-hee,
his bitter enemy. When lightning struck, it was supposed that the latter
was near the surface of the earth and Wah-keen-yan had fired a hot
thunderbolt at him.
Captain Eastman writes of Unk-ta-he, the God of Water, and
Chah-o-ter'-dah, the Forest God, who lived in a tree on a high eminence.
His house was situated at its base. By a strange power of attraction, he
drew birds, who performed the duties of guards.
Chah-o-ter'-dah was the relentless foe of the Thunder God. Indian fancy
has pictured many a spirited battle between the two. It was said that
the God of Thunder often came racing along, hurling lightning at a tree,
to kill the Forest God, who, having been warned, had taken refuge in the
water. Then Chah-o-ter'-dah ascended a tree and hurled his lightning at
his adversary to bring him down to submission. The Forest God possessed
a crooked gun, with which it was possible to shoot in any direction
around the earth.
The God of the Grass, Whitte-kah-gah, was formed from a weed,
_pa-jee-ko-tah_, which had the power of causing men to have fits, as
well as to give success in hunting.
Wa-hun-de-dan (Aurora Borealis, or Old Woman) was the goddess of war.
The Dakotas believed in numerous fairies of the land and water, in the
shape of animals, with ability to perform various services for mankind;
and in frightful giants, in whose honor were established many feasts and
dances. There was a clan called the "Giant's Party." Men only
participated in the ceremonies of this organization. On stated
occasions, they went hopping and singing around the fire, over which
kettles of meat were boiling. Every few moments, one would put in a hand
and pull out a piece of meat, which he ate, scalding hot. After it was
all eaten, the dancers splashed hot water on one another's backs, crying
out "Oh, how cold it is!"
The impression among the people was that the god would not permit his
clan to be injured by these rites.
In some feasts of the Dakotas, everything was sacred. Not a morsel of
meat was permitted to fall to the ground, otherwise the spirits would be
displeased and some calamity might befall. Bones were gathered up and
burned, or thrown into the water, out of reach of the dogs and so they
could not be trampled on by the women. Sometimes a present was bestowed
upon the one who ate his dishful first. This caused much haste, as soon
as eating began, accompanied by a great blowing, stirring and grunting.