A short time after the events we have noticed, a young and
slight-looking Sioux warrior entered one of the villages of that
nation. He was a stranger and alone. This was enough to insure him a
hospitable reception. On approaching the lodges which were nearest him,
he seemed to hesitate as to what course he should pursue as regards
making himself known. In the mean time his appearance had attracted a
good deal of attention.
His limbs were slight but well formed, his figure denoting agility
rather than strength. His dress was new and handsomely ornamented;
his leggins were of very fine deer-skin, dressed so as to be white and
soft, and these, as well as his coat, were richly embroidered with
porcupine quills. He had no blanket, nor were there any war-eagle
feathers in his head; his pipe, made of an earthen material, was
large and heavy. He was without arms of any kind: this was the most
remarkable feature in his appearance.
He was pale, as if he had been ill, and there was at times an
expression of wildness, almost amounting to ferocity, in his
appearance. He advanced towards a lodge outside of which stood the
family; they spoke to him at once, telling him to sit down and rest
himself. One of the women seeing his mocassin was torn, untied it,
saying she would mend it.
Before asking him his name or errand, they insisted upon his eating,
knowing from his features and dress he was a Sioux.
His feet they found blistered and inflamed. The women of the lodge got
some herbs, laid them in cold water, and applied them to the inflamed
parts.
They gave him wild rice, in an earthen bowl of a kind manufactured
by themselves, the art being now lost. They were then destitute of
metallic vessels of any kind.
The young warrior, after he had eaten, proceeded to give an account of
himself. He said he had come a great distance in search of an uncle who
had suddenly disappeared from among them. He was a very important man
among them, famous for his wisdom, and for knowing all the history of
their people, the Mendewakantonwau Dacotas. He could always tell them
the year when buffalo would be the most plentiful; he could direct
them to the very spot where the largest herds could be found.
His people, he said, lived on the banks of the Minesota; the mouth
of this river, his uncle said, lay immediately over the centre of
the earth, and under the centre of the heavens: the Great Spirit had
ordered this, that they might know they were his favourite people,
superior to all other nations.
All these things his uncle had learned in dreams; and often he spoke of
them to the young people, that they might be proud of their country,
and might remember who was their Great Father and friend.
On one occasion he had assembled the young people, and told them of
the bloody battles they had fought with the Sacs and Foxes and other
nations. Some of the Dacota bands had been destroyed by them, but they
had been saved because they were under the centre of the heavens, and
the eye of the Great Spirit was always upon them. They knew more too
than the other bands, and were in consequence much better off.
On that occasion he had talked nearly all night, and after that they
all retired to rest. On awaking, the old warrior had disappeared, and
since then had never been seen. Whether Unk-ta-he had drawn him into
the deep, or Chat-o-tee-dah, the god of the woods, had drawn him under
the earth, or the Great Spirit had taken him, no one knew. He was no
more among them.
The young man went on to say he had had a dream, in which he was told
to array himself in new clothing, and to go in search of his uncle. He
was forbidden to take arms or provisions of any kind; and in a short
time he would have an interview with his uncle. This he had done in
spite of the objections of his friends, who urged him at least to take
his bow and arrows, but he had refused to do so, preferring to follow
implicitly the directions he had received in his dream. He had been in
the woods a long time, and was almost despairing, when one night he
fell into a deep sleep, and his uncle stood before him; not old and
wrinkled and time-worn, as he remembered him, but erect and firm. His
voice was strong too, and he could have been heard a long way off, he
spoke so loud and distinctly.
He said that the Sioux need not any more look for his return, for
that in the far-off country where he lived, he had none of those
weaknesses and pains to contend with, which are constantly among the
aged on earth: he had wanted to try the bravery of his young nephew,
to see whether or not he would have courage to do as he was told. He
was glad he had done so, for now he would be a favourite of the gods,
who delighted in courageous acts. He directed him as to what route he
should take, telling him of everything that would happen to him on his
way to the village, and charged him to say to them, that he should be
furnished with a lance, bow, and arrows, and also have given to him a
comrade, and be allowed to stay in the band. The Indians were overcome
with admiration at the courage shown in these adventures, and they
immediately presented him with the arms he required, and in every other
way gratified his wishes.
He accepted these things proudly, as a right, rather than a favour;
this bearing made him still more popular with his new friends.
One of them came forward and told him he should have his oldest
daughter--pointing to the well-pleased maiden--for a wife: the stranger
said he had promised his uncle he would not marry until he had killed
three Winnebagoes, and wore the feathers of honour he had thus earned.
He continued to grow in their favour, and was preparing to accompany
some of their braves on a war-party, when, one morning, a party of
Sioux approached the village. One of the men was much taller and larger
than all the rest, his eagle feathers towering above their heads. The
hospitable people pressed forward to welcome them: and when they were
rested, and had eaten and smoked, the chief missed their stranger
friend. He was not to be seen; when they found he did not return to
them, they told his strange story to Fiery Man and his band.
The wretched man knew it was his wife who had thus baffled him. He
went on his way, but some evil spirit stood between him and the
accomplishment of his purpose. She was not to be given to his vengeance
or his love. There was happiness yet in store for White Moon.