WINNEMUCCA AND HIS BRAVES.
At the time the war broke out between the whites and Piutes, two young
Germans were engaged in prospecting at a point in the mountains east of
the sink of the Humboldt. They knew nothing of the trouble and started
to come into Chinatown.
On reaching a station on the Humboldt River they found the buildings
burned, and various articles, such as books and cards, strewn about. The
thought then struck them that there was trouble between the Indians and
whites. Feeling that they could make no fight, and not desiring to give
the Indians an opportunity of blowing their brains out with their own
weapons, the young men threw their guns into the river, and poured their
powder upon the ground and set fire to it.
After leaving the burned station they traveled on till night, without
seeing any Indians; but after they camped, an Indian who spoke very good
English came riding up to the fire. He told the young fellows to pack
their things and come with him, for should they remain in their present
camp they were sure to be killed, as the Piutes were now at war with the
whites.
“Piute man,” said he, “kill um great many white man at Pyramid Lake, get
heap gun, heap pony. S’pose white man kill Piute, Piute kill um white
man!”
The young men thought it best to do as requested, and catching up their
mustangs, packed their blankets and equipments, when they announced
their readiness to follow their red guide. After an hour’s travel they
reached a large encampment, and found themselves in the midst of three
or four hundred warriors.
Their guide conducted them to a tent near the middle of the camp, which
he informed them was “Winnemucca’s house.”
[Illustration: WINNEMUCCA—CHIEF OF THE PIUTES.]
Soon the old chief made his appearance and catechised them as follows:
“Where are you from?”
“From beyond the Sink of the Humboldt.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Prospecting.”
“Did you see many Indians there?”
“A good many.”
“Did they beg of you much?”
“A great deal.”
“Did you give them anything?”
“All we could spare.”
“Did they try to take your grub?”
“No.”
“Did they steal?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Bad Injuns! bad Injuns! Many white men bad too; many bad men—some white
some red! What have you in your packs?”
“Blankets and grub.”
“Have you sugar left?”
“A little.”
“Will you sell me two pounds?”
“Yes; certainly—or give it to you.”
“No, no! I must pay.”
Having measured out the sugar in a tin cup—a cupful for a
pound—Winnemucca, on being told the price was a dollar, said it was not
enough, and handed them two dollars. He next asked for gunpowder. Being
told they had none, he caused their packs to be opened and searched. No
powder being found the old fellow looked disappointed.
When first brought into camp, the young fellows were a good deal
frightened, but after their interview with Winnemucca, began to feel
quite easy in mind. Winnemucca told them that he was only at war with
the Californians, and said he had no quarrel with white men who came
from the East. The horses of the young men were picketed out with those
of the Indians, and they were shown where to spread their blankets.
Although surrounded by Indians, they were soon asleep, being very tired.
Late in the night one of the men felt a hand on his head, and awoke. He
was greatly terrified at finding that an old squaw with a long knife in
her hand had him by the hair, and was about to cut his throat. Before he
could make a move, or utter a cry, an Indian lying near, sprang up,
pushed the squaw away and then lay down at their heads.
“Hush!” said this man as he lay down.
“I shall speak to old Winnemucca about this in the morning,” whispered
the man whose throat had been in danger.
“Do nothing of the kind,” said their self-appointed guard, “that woman
with the knife was one of the old fellow’s wives. Say nothing about it.”
“Who are you? You speak now like a white man.”
“I am not only a white man, but am also a countryman of yours. I heard
you and your partner speaking together in German last night. Say
nothing, I am an Indian now, and have been for years.”
The young men were not again disturbed, and in the morning went to
Winnemucca and signified their desire to depart. The old chief gave
orders for their horses to be brought, and then told them to be sure to
travel fast, and not to stop to prospect.
When they had packed up and were about ready to start, Winnemucca gave
them a string made of twisted sinews in which were tied a number of
knots, telling them that wherever they were stopped by Indians they must
show them the string. They were stopped two or three times in the course
of the forenoon, but the string operated like magic, as the sight of it
instantly changed the countenances of the Indians from the scowl of an
enemy to the smile of a friend.
Wherever they were stopped the string was taken from them and one of the
knots untied, when it was handed back to them. The Indians would then
say, as they left them: “Go straight to Chinatown—travel fast!” In one
place, while they were passing through a cañon, they were fired on by a
small party of Indians and two or three bullets whistled past them. They
halted and called out: “We are from Winnemucca’s camp! We are friends!”
Two or three Indians then approached, and being shown the pass they
exchanged glances, but took the string and undid a knot. They then shook
hands, saying; “Now we all heap good friend.” As they were leaving, one
of them faced about, and said, “Don’t tell Winnemucca that we shot at
you.” In another place they passed a hut that stood near the road, but
seeing no one there, except an old woman, they did not take the trouble
to show her the pass. In half an hour they were overtaken by three
Indians on horseback, who levelled guns at them and told them to stop.
On showing their pass they were asked why they did not show it to the
old woman; however, one of the braves took out a knot, when all three
turned about and went off laughing.
After they had passed the site of Williams’ Station, the burning of
which, and the killing of the men stopping there, brought on all the
trouble, they were again stopped by an Indian who undid their last knot
and then kept the string. As the Indian turned to ride away, he began
singing in a low tone: “Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?” and the young
fellows said: “There is our countryman again!” They were about to turn
back and call to him, but looking in the direction whence he came and in
which he was again going, they saw the heads of several Indians and
ponies among the willows, on the banks of the Carson River, along which
they were now traveling.
Old Captain Truckee, in whose honor the Truckee River was named, was a
very intelligent man, and was always a great friend to the whites. He
had been a good deal with Fremont and other American explorers, in the
capacity of guide, and well understood and appreciated the superior
conveniences and substantial comforts resulting from the industrious
habits of civilized people. He deplored the ignorance and wilfulness of
his people in preferring to lead a wandering life—deriving a precarious
subsistance from the proceeds of the chase and the spontaneous products
of the soil—to settling permanently in their rich valleys and turning
their attention to the raising of stock and the cultivation of the soil.
Captain Truckee died in the Palmyra Mountains, in 1860, from the bite of
some insect—probably a tarantula. Before his death he gave the most
minute directions in regard to his burial. He had in his possession a
letter of recommendation from Col. John C. Fremont, speaking of him as
being a faithful and efficient guide and a good honest man. He also had
other documents of a similar character from other white men, all of
which he desired to have placed in his left hand when he was carried to
his grave. He had been much about the Catholic Missions in California,
and desired to have a cross erected at the head of his grave with his
name cut upon it; he also told how deep the grave must be dug, how his
head was to be laid, and mentioned particularly that they were to fold
his hands on his breast and heap the earth in a mound above his last
resting-place.
As the Indians did not know how to do all these things, they asked some
whites who were prospecting near at hand to come and bury Truckee as he
had desired to be buried. All of his instructions were carried out to
the last particular. The Indians all loved the old man, and there was
great weeping and wailing at his funeral, which was taken charge of by a
white man who had long known the old fellow and who was called by the
Indians “the white Winnemucca.”
At the grave, Captain John, a son-in-law of Truckee, pronounced the
eulogy. He spoke first in Piute and then in English, and said:
“A good man is gone. The white man knows he was good, for he guided
him round deserts and led him in paths where there was grass and good
water. His people know he was good, for he loved them and cared for
them and came home to them to die. All know that Truckee was a good
man—Piutes and Americans. He is dead; the good man is gone. All of our
people cry, for they loved Truckee.
I must go to Walker River and see the big Captain there and say to
him, the good man is dead. I must go to Pyramid Lake, to Winnemucca,
and say to him, the good man is dead. Winnemucca sits in the door of
his house and says: ‘No sabe, no sabe?’ Winnemucca himself is growing
old. When he knows the good man is dead, he and the big Captain at
Walker River will have a talk and will choose a man to put in his
place; but not many are fit to lead in the path where Truckee walked.
[Captain John was himself chosen.] Truckee was much with the white
men, he liked their way and learned much of them that we don’t
understand. He wished to be buried as the white men bury their dead,
and the white Winnemucca and the white men his friends have seen it
done. I thank him and I thank them—I thank all for Truckee and
Truckee’s people. Good-bye! I go to Walker River to see the big
Captain—” and he at once set out on a run.
The Indians who remained packed up their traps, and setting fire to the
hut in which Truckee died, they all set out along a trail leading to the
northward, weeping and wailing as they went.
[Illustration: PRINCE NATCHEZ.]
One of old Winnemucca’s wives (he had three or four) was a daughter of
Captain Truckee. This wife was the mother of Sarah, known in Nevada as
the “Princess Sarah.” She was educated at Santa Cruz, California, at a
Catholic Mission, and reads and writes very well, sometimes writing
articles for publication in the papers, concerning her people. She was
married to a German named Snyder, and lived with him a number of years.
Snyder died while on his way to Germany, on a visit, when the “Princess
Sarah” married Lieutenant Bartlett, of the United States Army. She lived
with him but a short time, when she left him and returned to her people.
When in towns and cities she dresses after the fashion of American
ladies,[C] but when with her people generally dons the Piute dress. Her
Indian name is Sonometa—even a prettier name than Sarah. Prince Natchez,
a full brother of Sonometa, is heir-apparent to the Winnemucca throne
and is now looked upon by all the Piutes as their leading man—the man to
stir up the agent sent to the tribe by the “Great Father” at Washington,
and he keeps all the money appropriated for the use of the Piutes.
“Natches” is a name given to the “Prince” by the whites. His folks
simply called him “Nah-tze,” the Piute for boy. The Indians have now
split the difference and call him “Natchee.”
Footnote C:
See page 30.
Old Winnemucca wears in his nose a stick some four inches in length, and
when he goes to the happy hunting-ground Nachez will no doubt thrust
into his nasal croppings this badge of royalty. The name, “Winnemucca,”
means the charitable man.
[Illustration]