CONJURERS--OLD TAPASTANUM--BOASTING--CHALLENGE ACCEPTED--MEDICINE MAN'S
TENT--BOGUS BULLET--DETECTED--CONJURER'S DEFEAT AND FALL.
Not long after the visit to the mission and the School Mr Ross was
visited by a number of old pagan medicine men and conjurers, the most
noted of them being old Tapastanum, who, having heard of the visit of
the young gentlemen from across the sea to the family of Sagasta-weekee,
was anxious to make them a visit of ceremony. Tapastanum's principal
reason for a ceremonious visit was that he should not be eclipsed by
"the Black-coat Man with the Book."
Mr Ross, while receiving these old men as he received all Indians, in a
civil manner, was not at all kindly disposed toward them, as he knew
their influence was harmful and that they were a curse and a malediction
to the people. Their very presence in an Indian village is a source of
terror and fear. They never hunt or fish themselves as long as they can
frighten other people into being blackmailed by them.
The coming of these men very much excited Sam and Alec, who had heard
such extraordinary things about them. Some firmly believe that they are
in league with the devil, and, by his direct assistance, are able to
perform all the wonderful things, of which they boast. Others, however,
believe that they are rank impostors. The boys, who had heard so many
conflicting things about these conjurers, tried to coax Mr Ross to get
them to show off some of their pretended power.
For a time Mr Ross, who considered them only as clever scoundrels or
unmitigated humbugs, objected, as he did not wish to seem in any way to
encourage them. However, one day as they, from Mr Ross's reluctance to
put them to the test, became exceedingly boastful of their powers to do
such wonderful things it was decided to give them an opportunity.
"What do you say you can do?" asked Frank of old Tapastanum.
"Do," he replied, "I can so conjure that you cannot hit me with a
bullet, or tie me so that I cannot spring up loose; and fire will not
burn me, or water drown me."
"All right," said Frank, "one thing at a time. We will try the first,
and see if we cannot hit you with a bullet."
"What you give?" was the request of the old fellow.
"O, indeed, that is what you are after; well, what do you want?"
At first his demands were very unreasonable, but after some dickering it
was decided that if he stood the ordeal he was to get an agreed amount
of flour, tea, sugar, and tobacco. It was also settled that the ordeal
should come off the next day. The conjurer said that he would spend the
night with his medicine drum and sacred medicine bag, to call back his
familiar spirit, who might be away hunting. The boys discussed very
much the coming contest, and, of course, were profoundly interested.
They had learned much since their coming into the country about these
strange, wild, fearsome people, and this with what they had read in
other days filled them with great curiosity to see what would be the
outcome.
With Mr Ross and the family the matter was well talked over, and it was
determined--as Mr Ross considered the conjurer who was to go through
the ordeal an unmitigated fraud--that he should be taught a lesson that
he and his cronies would never forget.
When the morning arrived the old fellows were there in good time, and
the ordeal, which was to-day to be by bullet, was decided upon.
The conjurer selected for the ordeal had not proceeded far in his talk
before he asked to see laid down at his wife's feet his pay. This was
brought out and measured to his satisfaction, with the understanding
that it was not to be his unless he succeeded.
His preparations were soon completed. Aided by his comrades, a small
conjuring tent was made by sticking some long green limber poles in the
ground, and bending them over like bows until the other ends were also
made fast in the earth. Then over these poles a skin tent, made by
sewing a number of dressed deerskins together, was thrown. Taking his
medicine bag and magic drum into this tent, the conjurer disappeared.
Soon the monotonous drumming began. In addition there were heard the
barks and howls and cries of nearly all the animals of the forest and
prairies. The sounds were like that proceeding from a wild beast show
when all the animals are let louse and are uttering their discordant
notes. The tent quivered as though in a cyclone. Thus, for a time it
went on--the drum beating, the beasts howling, the tent quivering--until
it seemed utterly inexplicable how one man, could create such a din.
Among the boys, Sam was most excited at these strange proceedings. Much
to the amusement of those around, he said:
"I'm thinking the safest place would be on the top of the house, if all
those reptiles should break loose."
The conjurer now began crying out in his own language: "To help me he is
coming, my own familiar spirit. Soon the bullet cannot pierce me; soon
waters cannot drown me; soon fires cannot burn me. To help me he is
coming! coming! coming!"
Thus on he went, while the drumming and howlings were almost incessant.
Mr Ross, who had resolved that there should be no nonsense, had asked
one of his servants, who was an unerring shot, to do the firing. In the
meantime one of the conjurer's associates had asked to see the gun that
was to be used, and kindly offered to load it. The suspicions of Mr
Ross were at once aroused by this request, but wishing to see through
the man's trick he did not oppose his request. Soon after a good gun
was sent for, and also some powder and bullets. Full measure of powder
was poured into the gun, and the usual wadding was well driven down upon
it. When Mr Ross selected a bullet the friend of the conjurer, with a
great pretence of awe, asked to see it, and holding it in his hand said,
"This is the bullet that the familiar spirit will turn aside."
Mr Ross let him look at it, and saw him handling it with much apparent
reverence, but he also saw him quickly and deftly change it for another
bullet.
"That's your game, is it?" said Mr Ross but not out loud. After a
little more humbuggery the bullet was handed back to be dropped into the
muzzle of the gun.
If Mr Ross's thoughts could have been heard they would have been
something like this:
"I have seen through that little trick, and will show you that two can
play at that game."
And so without exciting the suspicion of the Indian, whose trick he had
detected, he changed the bullet for another, and dropped it into the
gun. When the wadding was driven in and placed upon it, the confederate
of the conjurer asked for the privilege of being allowed also to help
ram it down. Mr Ross saw his meaning and cheerfully granted it. The
weapon was now loaded and ready for use. All this time the drumming and
the conjuring had continued with all their accompaniments of howls and
shrieks.
In a short time a shrill, low whistle, like the call of some bird, was
heard, and Mr Ross observed that it was from the lips of the old Indian
who had pretended to examine the bullet with such awe, but who had in
reality exchanged it for a perfectly harmless one. He and the conjurer
were associates in their trickery. The bullet had been made in this
way: A pair of bullet moulds had been heated quite hot, and then some
bear's fat, which is like lard, had been put inside of them. Holding
the moulds shut, and placing them in very cold water, they kept turning
them around until the melted fat had hardened into a thin shell exactly
the size of a bullet. Then a small puncture was made through this thin
casing of fat, and the interior carefully filled up with fine sand. It
was not difficult then to stop up the orifice with a little fat. It was
then carefully coloured like a bullet, and at a distance could hardly be
distinguished from one. When put in a gun and well pounded with a
ramrod, of course, it would break all to pieces, and when fired at
anything like an ordinary distance for ball firing would be perfectly
harmless.
But Mr Ross's cleverness had been too much for the rogues, and so he
had changed the bogus affair for a genuine bullet of lead. To his
servant, who was to fire, he explained exactly how matters were, and had
said to him:
"Do not kill the rascal, but give him a wound that will forever stop his
boastings, and break his power over the poor deluded hundreds, who
firmly believe he can do what he has so boastfully declared."
The low, shrill whistle call had made a great change upon the conjurer
in the tent. He was now all boastfulness, and his cries were like the
shouts of triumph:
"Waters cannot drown me; bullets cannot pierce me; fires cannot burn
me."
"Are you sure you are ready?" said Mr Ross.
Shouting his defiance, the conjurer came out from the tent, and walking
to a place where he knew the fine sand in the bullet of bear's grease
would not hurt him, he boldly stood up, and stretching out his hands
defied the shooter to do his best.
"You are sure, are you, that bullets will not hurt you?" said Mr Ross.
Very haughty was the conjurer's reply. Then said Mr Ross again; "If
you are hurt, no one will be to blame."
"No, indeed," was the conjurer's reply, "for I have given the challenge,
and my familiar spirit has told me that the bullets cannot pierce me."
"If you are struck, then you will give up your conjuring, and go and
hunt for your own living, like other people?"
He hesitated for a moment, but the low, shrill whistle was once more
heard, and so he fairly shouted out:
"If bullets can pierce me I will forever give up my conjuring, and
destroy my magic drum and medicine bag."
"All right," said Mr Ross; then, turning to his servant, he said, "Now,
Baptiste, fire!"
Taking deliberate aim, the man fired, and, as the report rang out, from
one of the uplifted hands of the conjurer who was standing about fifty
yards away--there fell a finger, as neatly cut off by the bullet as
though a surgeon's knife had done the work.
With a howl of rage and pain most decidedly un-Indian-like, the conjurer
began dancing about, much to the amusement of the boys, who a moment
before were pale with pent-up excitement; for it is rather trying to
look on and see in the hands of a skillful marksman a gun loaded with
ball and pointed at this boastful man, who was willing to put his magic
against the skill of the finest shot of the country.
Much to the surprise of all but Mr Ross and one or two others who saw
through the trick, the old fellow, with his wounded hand still profusely
bleeding, rushed over to his confederate and began abusing him most
thoroughly for having deceived him. This attack the man resented, and a
first-class quarrel was the result. Around them gathered numbers of
Indians, and in the mutual recriminations of these two the truth came
out, and the people saw that they had long been deluded by a pair of
impostors. From that, day they were discredited men, and never after
regained any power or influence.
That evening Mr Ross explained to the boys the whole affair. He showed
them the bogus bullet, and explained to them how it was made. The boys
admitted that it was a clever trick, and were not satisfied until they
had made several of them in the manner described.
Thus ended their first and last experience with Indian conjurers, and it
thoroughly convinced them that they are only cunning impostors.