_Grand Pawnee Village.—The Council._
The second day after our arrival was appointed for holding the council.
It was a fine frosty morning. The sun rose like a huge ball of crimson
over the low hills; pouring a flood of lurid light upon the dancing
waters of the Platte, and gemming with a thousand tints, the frost beads
that glittered upon the tall withering grass of the prairie.
A number of us left the lodge early in the morning, and strolled towards
the banks of the Platte. A few gaunt, sinewy wolf-dogs were prowling
about the silent village, in search of food. The savages had not yet left
their lairs, except one or two solitary individuals, muffled in their
robes, who at sight of us, hurried to their abodes to give information
that the strangers were stirring. Occasionally, as we passed the dark
funnel-like mouth of the dwellings, the half of a face would be seen,
cautiously looking out, and after staring at us for an instant, would
vanish into the interior to call out the rest of the inhabitants.
We had not proceeded far, before about a dozen half-starved Indian
wolf-dogs collected at our heels. Here they followed, raising their
nostrils, baring their long white fangs, and uttering deep growls. Their
green flashing eyes; their long bristling hair; and their tails stiffly
extended as they slowly stalked after us, convinced us that they waited
only for the slightest appearance of fear on our part, to commence an
attack. It also plainly showed that however welcome our appearance might
be to the Indians, there were some members of the village who did not
participate in the general feeling of joy.
In spite, however, of this show of ill will, we continued our walk until
we reached the Platte. Here we seated ourselves upon the trunk of a tree
lying prostrate on the bank of the river.
In the meantime, the Indians had received intelligence of our movements,
and began to edge towards the stream. The children came running openly
and in droves. The old men and warriors carelessly sauntered along
towards the water, and came down upon us as if by accident. Others more
modest, crouched down in the long grass, creeping stealthily forward,
until every stump concealed a painted form, and every bush was alive with
curious faces.
Nearest to us was a tall, thin Indian, clad in an old, worn-out
buffalo-robe.
There was a “gallows-bird” look about him,—no doubt some prodigal son,
disinherited by a crusty old curmudgeon father. He was standing with his
back half towards us, and his face turned away, apparently gazing up
the river; the very attitude to “give the lie” to his eyes, which were
convulsively straining towards us, from the corner of their sockets, and
scanning our every movement with an intense and eager curiosity.
At length one of the party wishing to inquire about our horses, beckoned
him forward. This was a signal for all the rest. They came trooping
up from every quarter, under the pretence of giving information; and
upon every sign made by us, about twenty tongues gabbled unintelligible
answers. After spending about half an hour upon the banks, and finding
that nothing was to be gained in the way of information, we turned off
in the direction of the village.
It was now humming with life. The warriors were collected in small knots
of five or six, and, by their vehement gestures, were apparently engaged
in earnest conversation. The children were rolling and tumbling in the
dirt; the squaws were busily engaged. Some were bringing from their
lodges large leather sacks of shelled corn; others were spreading it out
to dry, upon the leather of their buffalo-skin tents, which had been
stretched out upon the ground. Others were cleansing from it the decayed
kernels and packing it up in small sacks of a whitish undressed leather,
resembling parchment. These were then deposited in cache-holes[D] for a
winter’s store.
[D] The _Cache_, is a large hole dug in the ground like a cistern. It is
narrow at the top (about four feet in diameter) but wider as it descends,
until its form somewhat resembles that of a jug. It will contain about an
hundred bushels of corn.
Upon leaving their villages, the Indians deposit the corn which is to
serve for their winter’s store in granaries of this description, and
cover the apertures with earth, so that it is impossible, for a person
unacquainted with their exact position, to discover the entrance. The
name _Cache_ is given by the French traders who derive it from the word
_cacher_ (to conceal.)
At a distance from the village, a band of females were slowly wending
along the top of one of the low prairie ridges, to their daily labour in
the small plantations of corn. These are scattered in every direction
round the village, wherever a spot of rich, black soil, gives promise of
a bountiful harvest. Some of them are as much as eight miles distant from
the town.
There is a fearful uncertainty hanging round the lives of these females.
At the rising of the sun they depart to their toil, often never to
return. They are constantly exposed to the attacks of lurking foes, who
steal down upon their villages, to cut off stragglers. They come and
disappear with equal silence and celerity. Their presence is unknown,
until the long absence of a friend, or a mutilated body, found sometimes
after the lapse of several days, conveys to their friends a thrilling
token, that the hand of the destroyer has been busied among them, and the
hour of vengeance has passed.
As we proceeded, we were again waited upon by a committee of the dogs of
the town. They formed in a train behind us, with the same expression of
ill feeling that had been manifested by their predecessors. But this last
display of rancour was of short duration; for a stout, tattered Indian,
who looked as if his last ablution had been performed during his infancy,
rushed out from one of the lodges, and with a few vigorous applications
of his foot changed the aspect of affairs. In an instant the glistening
eyes of the curs sunk from fury to meekness; the hair which bristled
boldly up was sleeked quietly down to their backs; the tails which had
stood out as erect as bars of iron, were tucked snugly away between their
legs, and the snarls were converted into yells. In short, the canine
committee were unmercifully beaten, and fled yelping and howling in every
direction.
Our attention was now called to the long, lean, wiery old heralds, who
were stalking through the town, calling forth the warriors, and exhorting
them to prepare for the council. Occasionally they stopped to gossip with
some gray-headed crony, who stood blinking like an owl at the entrance of
his dwelling. At other times they paused to bestow a little wholesome
advice upon some wild urchin, guilty of some breach of decorum towards
their guests.
Upon reaching the lodge of the chief, we found that active preparations
had been made for holding the council. The goods and presents which had
been received hastily into the building, were now piled up carefully.
The lodge had been swept clean; a large cheery fire was crackling in the
centre. The rabble crowd of loungers and hangers-on had been routed;
and besides the family of the chief, we were the only occupants of the
spacious building.
At mid-day the chiefs and braves began to assemble. They were full
dressed; many of the young warriors had spent the whole morning in
preparation, and now presented themselves, fully ornamented for the
meeting.
As the hour for the opening of the council grew nearer, the tall,
muffled warriors poured in, in one continuous stream. They moved quietly
to the places allotted them, and seating themselves in silence round the
chief, according to their rank. There was no wrangling, or bustle for
precedence; each knew his station, and if perchance one of them occupied
the place of some more distinguished warrior, upon his appearance he
immediately rose and resigned them his seat.
The crowd continued flowing in until the lodge was filled almost to
suffocation. As they came in, they seated themselves, until five or six
circles were formed, one beyond the other, the last ranging against the
wall of the building. In the ring nearest the chiefs, sat the principal
braves, or those warriors whose deeds of blood entitled them to a high
rank in the councils of the nation. The more distant circles were filled
by such young men of the village as were admitted to its councils. The
passage leading to the open air, was completely blocked up with a tight
wedged mass of women and children, who dared venture no nearer to the
deliberations of the tribe.
In the course of half an hour, nearly all the principal warriors had
assembled. The chief then filled a large stone pipe and lighting it,
drew a few puffs, inhaling the smoke into his lungs, and blowing it out
in long blasts through his nostrils. He then passed it to the whites,
who, each having inhaled a few whiffs in their turn, handed it to their
neighbours. These again passed it on, until it had made the circuit of
the whole assembly. While this was going on our attention was attracted
by a violent commotion in the passage. In a moment afterwards the naked
head and shoulders of the Wild Horse towered above the crowd. He forced
his way through them, and burst naked into the building. Here he seated
himself in the inner ring, leaning his back against one of the pillars
which supported the roof. The chief scowled grimly at the disturbance
caused by his entrance. The Wild Horse, however, was a giant, whose wrath
was not to be courted, and the matter passed off in silence. After a
short time Mr. E—— rose and addressed the council, stating the views of
the United States, and at the same time, the conditions of the treaty.
During the whole of the address, every sound was hushed into a deep
and thrilling silence. Not a form stirred; but all sat with their eyes
steadily fixed upon his countenance. There was not even a long-drawn
breath to break in upon the voice of the speaker; though now and then,
some proposal, which met with peculiar approbation, would elicit a
loud grunt of approval, from the deep, sonorous chests of the whole
assemblage.
When Mr. E—— had finished his address, the chief of the Grand Pawnees
rose and folded his heavy buffalo-robe round his body. His right arm and
breast were left bare. The other hand and lower part of his body, were
completely hid by the dark folds of his shaggy mantle. For a few moments
he stood facing Mr. E—— in silence; then stepping forward, his chest
seemed to swell out,—he threw back his head, and raised his arm, with one
of the fingers slightly extended, as if to command attention. He then
paused and gazed with a hawk eye upon the iron faces of his warriors. The
pause and glance were momentary; and without moving the position of his
arm, he commenced his harangue. It was short, energetic, and abounding
with all the high-wrought figures of Indian oratory. As he proceeded
he grew more and more animated; his chest rose and fell; his finely
modulated voice, which at first had stolen like music over the stillness,
grew louder and louder, until its deep, fierce tones rang like thunder
through the building. He threw his robe from his shoulders, leaving bare
his almost convulsed frame. He fixed his eagle eye upon us; he extended
his bare arms towards us, he waved them over our heads, with a wild
fury of gesticulation. Had it not been for his words of friendship, our
fancies would have led us to imagine him some demon, pouring out the most
fearful threats of vengeance. For about ten minutes his voice rolled
through the lodge. Suddenly he fell from his loud, energetic language to
the silvery, guttural tones natural to him, and in a short time finished
his harangue.
After him, his son, the second chief of the tribe, rose and commenced
an address. While he was proceeding, a noise of voices arose at the
extreme part of the lodge, near the passage. At first they were low and
smothered; but at last they broke out into loud and angry altercation.
The Wild Horse was crouching at the foot of one of the pillars, with
his hands interlocked with each other, his arms encompassing his legs,
and his body nearly hid by the long matted hair which hung over it. He
was roused by the disturbance; but at first contented himself by an
occasional sharp word addressed to the crowd. This silenced it for a few
moments; but at last the brawling voices broke out into open clamour. The
savage started to his feet, stalked among them, shook his brawny arms
over their heads, and thundered a few stern words in their ears. This had
the effect of magic in soothing the angry passions of the disputants. The
voices sank into silence, and the noise was hushed. For a few moments he
maintained his menacing attitude over them; and then resuming his station
at the foot of the pillar, the chief proceeded in his harangue.
When he concluded, several chiefs rose and addressed the party, welcoming
them to their homes, with the kindest expressions of hospitality. At the
same time they expressed their entire acquiescence in the terms of the
treaty. After them several of the braves and warriors rose, and spoke to
the same effect. When they had concluded, the following day was appointed
for signing the treaty. The pipe was again passed round, and the council
breaking up, the warriors left the lodge.
During the whole of the deliberation, which lasted about six hours, the
interior of the building was excessively hot. The instant it was cleared,
we strolled out into the open prairie. A large crowd was gathered at
a distance. We went towards it, and found it assembled to witness the
slaughter of one of our oxen—the destined victim for the ratification of
the treaty. The hunter who was to enact the part of butcher, had loaded
his rifle, and now moved forward. The crowd spread off on each side,
leaving the animal exposed to view. The beast, then for the first time
seemed to have a suspicion of the fate that awaited him, raised his head,
and gazed steadily at his butcher. The hunter took a few steps—the gun
was to his cheek—the trigger clicked—we heard the bullet strike—the ox
reared his heavy frame, and fell forward on the ground; but the ball had
merely fractured the skull without being fatal. By degrees the animal
raised himself from the ground upon his haunches. His head hung heavily
forward, and a thin streak of blood trickled down from the bullet hole
in his forehead. Still he feebly supported his form upon his fore feet.
His huge body rocked to and fro in the last extremity of anguish, and
deep bellowings burst from his heaving lungs, resembling the tortured
cries of a human sufferer. A second time the hunter advanced and fired;
the ball was fatal; it crushed through the bone of the skull, and the
beast fell forward with a deep groan. The crowd, raising a loud cry of
exultation and delight, closed round him. The exhibition was sickening;
we turned away and left the Indian butchers to their work.