Chapter 13

It was well for Austin Edwards and his brothers, that their acquaintance with their friend the hunter commenced during one of their holidays, so that they were enabled to pay him a visit more frequently than they otherwise could have done. The life led by the hunter would have been far too solitary for most people; but his long wanderings in the extended prairies, and his long sojournings in places remote from society, had rendered the quiet tranquillity of country scenes pleasant to him: yet, still, as variety has its charms, it afforded him a pleasant change, whenever the three brothers visited him.

In his younger days, he had entered on the life of a hunter and trapper with much ardour. To pursue the buffalo (or, more properly speaking, the bison) of the prairie, the deer, and other animals, and to mingle with the different tribes of Indians, was his delight. With wild animals and wild men he became familiar, and even the very dangers that beset his path gave an interest to his pursuits: but his youth was gone, his manhood was declining, and the world that he once looked upon as an abiding dwelling-place, he now regarded as the pathway to a better home.

Time was, when to urge the arrow or the spear into the heart of the flying prey for mere diversion, and to join in the wild war-whoop of contending tribes, was congenial to his spirit; but his mind had been sobered, so that now to practise forbearance and kindness was far more pleasant than to indulge in cruelty and revenge. He looked on mankind as one great family, which ought to dwell in brotherly love; and he regarded the animal creation as given by a heavenly Hand, for the use, and not the abuse, of man.

In relating the scenes in which he had mingled in earlier years, he was aware that he could not avoid calling up, in some measure, in the youthful hearts of his auditors, the natural desire to see what was new and strange and wonderful, without reflecting a moment on the good or the evil of the thing set before them: but he endeavoured to blend with his descriptions such remarks as would lead them to love what was right and to hate what was wrong. Regarding the Indian tribes as an injured people, he sought to set before his young friends the wrongs and oppressions practised on the red man; that they might sympathize with his trials, and feel interested for his welfare.

The few words that had dropped from his lips, about the ordeal through which the Indians pass before they are allowed to join war-parties, had awakened Austin's curiosity. Nor was it long before, seated with his brothers in the cottage, he was listening to the whole account. "Please to begin at the very beginning," said he, "and I shall not lose a single word."

_Hunter._ The Sioux, the Crows, the Sacs, the Ojibbeways, the Camanchees, and the Chippewas, all exhibit astonishing proofs of patience and endurance under pain; but in none of the tribes has ever such torture been inflicted, or such courage witnessed, in enduring torment, as among the Mandans.

_Brian._ Now we shall hear.

_Hunter._ The Mandans, who, as I have already told you, lived, when I was a hunter, on the Upper Missouri, held a mystery lodge every year; and this was indeed a very solemn gathering of the tribe. I was never present in the lodge on this occasion, but will give you the description of an eye-witness.

_Basil._ Why did they get together? What did they do?

_Hunter._ You shall hear. The mystery lodge, or it may be called the religious meeting, was held, first, to appease the wrath and secure the protection of the good and the evil spirits; secondly, to celebrate the great flood, which they believed took place a long time ago; thirdly, to perform the buffalo dance, to bring buffaloes; and, fourthly, to try the strength, courage and endurance of their young men, that they might know who were the most worthy among them, and the most to be relied on in war-parties.

_Austin._ How came the Mandans to know any thing about the flood, if they have no Bibles?

_Hunter._ That I cannot tell. Certain it is, that they had a large, high tub, called the Great Canoe, in the centre of their village, set up in commemoration of the flood; and that they held the mystery lodge when the willow leaves were in their prime under the river bank, because, they said, a bird had brought a willow bough in full leaf to the Great Canoe in the flood.

_Austin._ Why, it is just as if they had read the Bible.

_Hunter._ The fact of the deluge (however they came by it) had undoubtedly been handed down among them by tradition for many generations: but I must go on with my account of the Mandan gathering. The mystery lodge was opened by a strange-looking man, whom no one seemed to know, and who came from the prairie. This odd man called for some edge-tool at every wigwam in the village; and all these tools, at the end of the ceremonies, were cast into the river from a high bank; as an offering, I suppose, to the Water spirit. After opening the mystery lodge, and appointing a medicine man to preside, he once more disappeared on the prairie.

_Brian._ What an odd thing!

_Hunter._ Twenty or thirty young men were in the lodge, candidates for reputation among the tribe, who had presented themselves to undergo the prescribed tortures. As they reclined in the lodge, every one had hung up over his head, his shield, his bow and quiver, and his medicine bag. The young men were painted different colours. The old mystery man appointed to superintend the ceremonies sat by a fire in the middle of the lodge, smoking leisurely with his medicine pipe, in honour of the Great Spirit; and there he sat for four days, and as many nights, during which the young men neither tasted food nor drink, nor were they allowed to close their eyes.

_Basil._ It was enough to kill them all.

_Hunter._ On the floor of the lodge were buffalo and human skulls, and sacks filled with water, shaped like tortoises, with sticks by them. During each of the four days, the buffalo dance was performed over and over again, by Indians, painted, and wearing over them whole buffalo skins, with tails and hoofs and horns; while in their hands they carried rattles, and long, thin, white wands, and bore on their backs bundles of green boughs of the willow. Some of the dancers were painted red, to represent the day; and others black, with stars, to resemble the night. During these dances, which took place round the Great Canoe, the tops of the wigwams were crowded with people.

_Austin._ I want to hear about the young Indians in the lodge, and that old fellow, the mystery man.

_Hunter._ The superstitious and cruel practices of the mystery lodge are too fearful to dwell upon. I shall only just glance at them, that you may know, in some degree, the kind of trials the young Indians have to endure. While the dances were going on, mystery men, inside the lodge, were beating on the water sacks with sticks, and animating the young men to act courageously, telling them that the Great Spirit was sure to support them. Splints, or wooden skewers, were then run through the flesh on the back and breasts of the young warriors, and they were hoisted up, with cords fastened to the splints, towards the top of the lodge. Not a muscle of their features expressed fear or pain.

_Basil._ Shocking! shocking!

_Brian._ That must be horrible!

_Hunter._ After this, other splints were run through their arms, thighs and legs; and on these were hung their shields, arms and medicine bags. In this situation they were taunted, and turned round with poles till they fainted; and when, on being let down again, they recovered, those who had superior hardihood would crawl to the buffalo skull in the centre of the lodge, and lay upon it the little finger of their left hand to be chopped off; and even the loss of a second or third finger is counted evidence of superior boldness and devotion. After this, they were hurried along between strong and fleet runners: this was called "the last race," round and round the Great Canoe, till the weight of their arms having pulled the splints from their bodies, they once more fainted, and in this state, apparently dead, they were left to themselves, to live or die, as the Great Spirit might determine.

_Austin._ I should think that hardly any of them would ever come to life again.

_Hunter._ Nor would they, under common circumstances; but, when we consider that these young men had fasted for four days, and lost much blood in their tortures, there was not much danger of inflammation from their wounds, and their naturally strong constitutions enabled them to recover. All these tortures were willingly undertaken; nor would any one of those who endured them, on any account whatever, have evaded them. To propitiate the Great Spirit, and to stand well in the estimation of his own tribe, are the two highest objects in the mind of an Indian.

* * * * *

The day after that on which Austin and his brothers heard from the hunter the account of the mystery lodge, and the sufferings of the young Mandans before they were thought equal to engage in a war-party, two or three little accidents occurred. In the first place, Austin, in making a new bow, cut a deep gash in his finger: and, in the next, Brian and Basil, in scrambling among the hedges in quest of straight twigs for arrows, met with their mishaps; for Brian got a thorn in his thumb, while Basil had a roll down the bank into a dry ditch.

It is always a good sign in young people, when they put into practice any real or supposed good quality of which they hear or read. The patience and endurance of the young Mandans had called forth high commendations from Austin, and it was evident, in the affair of the cut finger, that he made a struggle, and a successful one too, in controlling his feelings. With an air of resolution, he wrapped the end of his pocket handkerchief tightly round the wound, and passed off the occurrence as a matter of no moment. Not a word escaped little Basil when he rolled into the ditch; nor did Brian utter a single "oh!" when the thorn was extracted from his thumb.

"You may depend upon it," said Austin, after some conversation with Brian and Basil, on the subject of the young Mandans, "that the next time we see the hunter, we shall hear something about the way in which red men go to war. The sham fight, and the preparation of the young warriors, will be followed by some account of their battles." In this supposition he was quite correct; for, when they next visited the cottage, the hunter proposed to speak a little about councils and encampments and alarms and surprises and attacks. The conversation was carried on in the following manner.

_Austin._ How do the Indians poison their arrows?

_Hunter._ By dipping the point of the arrow-head into the poison prepared. The head of the arrow, as I told you, is put on very slightly, so that it remains in the wound when the arrow is withdrawn.

_Brian._ Where do they get their poison? What is it made of?

_Hunter._ No doubt there is some difference in the manner of preparing poison among the different tribes. But, usually, it is, I believe, composed of deadly vegetable substances, slowly boiled together, sometimes mingled with the mortal poison of snakes and ants. This is prepared with great care. Its strength is usually tried on a lizard, or some other cold-blooded, slow-dying animal. It is rapid in its effects; for, if a fowl be wounded with a poisoned weapon, it dies in a few minutes; a cat dies in five minutes; a bison, in five or six; and a horse, in ten. Jaguars and deer live but a short time after they are thus wounded. If, then, horses and bisons are so soon destroyed by the poison, no wonder that men should be unable to endure its fatal effects.

Before war is determined on among the Indians, a council is held with great solemnity. The chiefs, and braves, and medicine men are assembled. Then the enlisting takes place, which I have already described; the war dance is engaged in, and weapons are examined and repaired. The chief, arrayed in full dress, leads on his band. They march with silence and rapidity, and encamp with great caution, appointing sentinels in every necessary direction. Thus, lurking, skulking and marching, they reach the place of their destination. Another war council is held, to decide on the mode of attack; and then, with rifles, war-clubs, scalping-knives and bows and poisoned arrows, they fall upon their unsuspecting foes.

_Brian._ It is very sad to fight with such weapons as poisoned arrows.

_Hunter._ It is sad to fight with any kind of weapons; but, when once anger enters the heart, and the desire to shed blood is called forth, no mode is thought too cruel that will assist in obtaining a victory. The continual warfare that is carried on between Indian tribes must be afflictive to every humane and Christian spirit. None but the God of peace can destroy the love of war in the hearts of either red or white men.

Indians fight in a way very different from civilized people; for they depend more on cunning, stratagem and surprise, than on skill and courage. Almost all their attacks are made under cover of night, or when least expected. A war-party will frequently go a great distance, to fall upon a village or an encampment on a quarter most accessible. To effect their object, they will hide for any length of time in the forest, sleep in the long grass, lurk in the ravine, and skulk at nightfall around the place to be attacked.

_Austin._ Did you ever go out with the Indians to fight?

_Hunter._ Yes. For some time I was treated very hospitably among the Crows, near the Rocky Mountains; and as they had determined to go on one of their war-parties, which I could not prevent, I resolved to go along with them, to watch their way of proceeding.

_Austin._ Do tell us all about it.

_Hunter._ It was a thoughtless and foolish affair, when I was young and rash; but I wished to be a spectator of all their customs. It was, as I said, one of those foolish undertakings into which the ardour of my disposition led me, and for which I was very near paying the price of my life. A council was held, wherein it was decided to send a strong war-party on foot to surprise a Blackfoot village. Every stratagem had been used to lull the enemy into security.

_Brian._ Ay; that is just like the Indians.

_Hunter._ The red pipe was sent through the tribe, for the warriors to smoke with it, much after the manner of the Sioux; the red post was struck, and the braves and attendants painted their faces. When the plan of attack was agreed on, every warrior looked to his weapons; neither bow nor arrow, war-club nor scalping-knife, was left unexamined. There was an earnestness in their preparation, as though they were all animated with one spirit.

It was some time after sundown, that we left the village at a quick pace. Runners were sent out in all directions, to give notice of an enemy. We hastened along a deep valley, rounded the base of a bluff, and entered the skirt of a forest, following each other in files beneath the shadowy branches. We then passed through some deep grass, and stole silently along several defiles and ravines. The nearer we drew to the Blackfoot village, the more silently and stealthily we proceeded. Like the panther, creeping with noiseless feet on his prey, we stole along the intricate pathways of the prairie bottoms, the forest, the skirt of the river and the hills and bluffs. At last we made a halt, just as the moon emerged from behind a cloud.

_Austin._ Then there was terrible work, I dare say.

_Hunter._ It was past midnight, and the Blackfoot village was wrapped in slumber. The Crow warriors dispersed themselves to attack the village at the same instant from different quarters. The leader had on his full dress, his medicine bag, and his head-dress of war-eagle plumes. All was hushed in silence, nearly equal to that of the grave; when suddenly the shrill war-whistle of the Crow chief rung through the Blackfoot lodges, and the wild war-whoop burst at once from a hundred throats. The chief was in the thickest of the fight. There was no pity for youth or age; the war-club spared not, and the tomahawk was merciless. Yelling like fiends, the Crow warriors fled from hut to hut, from victim to victim. Neither women nor children were spared.

_Brian._ Dreadful! dreadful!

_Hunter._ Though taken thus by surprise, the Blackfoot braves, in a little time, began to collect together, clutching their weapons firmly, and rushing on their enemies, determined to avenge their slaughtered friends. The panic into which they had been thrown subsided, and, like men accustomed to danger, they stood not only in self-defence, but attacked their foes with fury.

_Austin._ I wonder that every one in the Blackfoot village was not killed!

_Hunter._ In civilized life, this would very likely have been the case; but in a savage state, men from their childhood are trained up to peril. They may lie down to slumber on their couches of skins, but their weapons are near at hand; and though it be the midnight hour when an attack is made on them, and though, awakened by the confusion, they hear nothing but the war-cry of their enemy, they spring to their feet, seize their arms, and rush on to meet their foes. It was thus with the Blackfoot braves. Hand to hand, and foot to foot, they met their assailants; brave was opposed to brave; and the horrid clash of the war-club and the murderous death-grapple succeeded each other. Even if I could describe the horrors of such a scene, it would not be right to do so. As I was gazing on the conflict, I suddenly received a blow that struck me bleeding to the ground. You may see the scar on my temple still. The confusion was at its height, or else my scalp would have been taken.

_Brian._ How did you get away?

_Hunter._ Stunned as I was, I recovered my senses before a retreat took place, and was just able to effect my escape. The Crows slaughtered many of their enemies; but the Blackfoot warriors and braves were at last too strong for them. Then was heard the shrill whistle that sounded a retreat. With a dozen scalps in their possession, the Crows sought the shelter of the forest, and afterwards regained their own village.

_Austin._ Are the Crow tribe or the Blackfoot tribe the strongest?

_Hunter._ The Crow Indians, as I told you, are taller and more elegant men than the Blackfeet; but the latter have broader chests and shoulders. The Blackfeet, some think, take their name from the circumstance of their wearing black, or very dark brown leggings and mocassins. Whether, as a people, the Crows or the Blackfeet are the strongest, there is a diversity of opinion. The Blackfeet are almost always at war with the Crows.

_Austin._ What battling there must be among them!

_Hunter._ Their war-parties are very numerous, and their encampments are very large: and, whether seen in the day, in the midst of their lodges; or at night, wrapped in their robes, with their arms in their hands, ready to leap up if attacked by an enemy; they form a striking spectacle. Sometimes, in a night encampment, a false alarm takes place. A prowling bear, or a stray horse, is taken for a foe; and sometimes a real alarm is occasioned by spies crawling on their hands and knees up to their very encampment to ascertain their strength. On these occasions the shrill whistle is heard, every man springs up armed and rushes forth, ready to resist his assailing enemy. I have seen war-parties among the Crows and Blackfeet, the Mandans and Sioux, the Shawanees, Poncas, Pawnees and Seminoles. But a Camanchee war-party, mounted on wild horses, with their shields, bows and lances, which I once witnessed, was the most imposing spectacle of the kind I ever saw. The chief was mounted on a beautiful war-horse, wild as the winds, and yet he appeared to manage him with ease. He was in full dress, and seemed to have as much fire in his disposition as the chafed animal on which he rode. In his bridle-hand, he clutched his bow and several arrows; with his other hand, he wielded his long lance; while his quiver and shield were slung at his back, and his rifle across his thigh.

_Austin._ I think I can see him. But what colour was his war-horse?

_Hunter._ Black as a raven; but the white foam lay in thick flakes on his neck and breast, for his rider at every few paces stuck the sharp rowels of his Spanish spurs into his sides. He had a long flowing mane and tail, and his full and fiery eyes seemed ready to start out of his head. The whole Camanchee band was ready to rush into any danger. At one time, they were flying over the prairie in single file; and at another, drawn up all abreast of each other. The Camanchees and the Osages used to have cruel battles one with another. The Mandans and the Riccarees, too, were relentless enemies.

_Brian._ And the Sacs and Foxes were great fighters, for Black Hawk was a famous fellow.

_Hunter._ Yes, he was. But I have never told you, I believe, how the medicine man, or mystery man, conducts himself when called unto a wounded warrior.

_Austin._ Not a word of it. Please to tell us every particular.

_Hunter._ In some cases cures are certainly performed; in others, the wounded get well of themselves: but, in most instances, the mystery man is a mere juggler.

_Basil._ Now we shall hear of the mystery man.

_Hunter._ The Crow war-party that I had joined brought away two of their wounded warriors when they retreated from the Blackfoot village, but there seemed to be no hope of saving their lives. However, a mystery man was called on to use his skill.

_Austin._ Ay; I want to know how the mystery man cures his patients.

_Hunter._ If ever you should require a doctor, I hope you will have one more skilful than the mystery man that I am going to describe. The wounded warriors were in extremity, and I thought that one of them was dying before the mystery man made his appearance; but you shall hear. The wounded men lay groaning on the ground, with Indians around them, who kept moaning even louder than they did; when, all at once, a scuffle of feet and a noise like that of a low rattle were heard.

_Austin._ The mystery man was coming, I suppose.

_Hunter._ He was; and a death-like silence was instantly preserved by all the attendant Indians. In came the mystery man, covered over with the shaggy hide of a yellow bear, so that, had it not been that his mocassins, leggings and hands were visible, you might have supposed a real bear was walking upright, with a spear in one paw, and a rattle, formed like a tambourine, in the other.

_Basil._ He could never cure the dying man with his tambourine.

_Hunter._ From the yellow bear-skin hung a profusion of smaller skins, such as those of different kinds of snakes, toads, frogs and bats; with hoofs of animals, beaks and tails of birds, and scraps and fragments of other things; a complete bundle of odds and ends. The medicine man came into the circle, bending his knees, crouching, sliding one foot after the other along the ground, and now and then leaping and grunting. You could not see his face, for the yellow bear-head skin covered it, and the paws dangled before him. He shuffled round and round the wounded men, shaking his rattle and making all kinds of odd noises; he then stopped to turn them over.

_Austin._ He had need of all his medicine.

_Hunter._ Hardly had he been present a minute, before one of the men died; and, in ten minutes more, his companion breathed his last. The medicine man turned them over, shook his rattle over them, howled, groaned and grunted; but it would not do; the men were dead, and all his mummery would not bring them back to life again; so, after a few antics of various kinds, he shuffled off with himself, shaking his rattle, and howling and groaning louder than ever. You may remember, that I told you of the death of Oseola, the Seminole chief: he who struck his dagger through the treaty that was to sign away the hunting-grounds of his tribe, in exchange for distant lands.

_Austin._ Yes. You said that he dashed his dagger not only through the contract, but also through the table on which it lay.

_Brian._ And you told us that he was taken prisoner by treachery and died in captivity.

_Hunter._ Now I will tell you the particulars of his death; for I only said before, that he died pillowed on the faithful bosom of his wife. He had his two wives with him when he died, but one was his favourite.

_Austin._ Please to let us know every thing about him. It was at Fort Moultrie in Charleston, South Carolina.

_Hunter._ Finding himself at the point of death, he made signs that the chiefs and officers might be assembled, and his wishes were immediately complied with. The next thing he desired was, that his war-dress, that dress in which he had so often led his tribe to victory, might be brought to him. His wife waited obediently upon him, and his war-dress was placed before him.

_Basil._ What could he want of his war-dress when he was going to die?

_Austin._ Wait a little, Basil, and you will hear all about it, I dare say.

_Hunter._ It was an affecting sight, to see him get up from his bed on the floor, once more to dress himself as a chief of his tribe, just as if he was about to head an expedition against the whites. Well, he put on his rich mocassins, his leggings adorned with scalp-locks, his shirt and his ornamental belt of war. Nor did he forget the pouch that carried his bullets, the horn that held his powder; nor the knife with which he had taken so many scalps.

_Brian._ How very strange for a dying man to dress himself in that way!

_Hunter._ In all this, he was as calm and as steady as though about to hunt in the woods with his tribe. He then made signs, while sitting up in his bed, that his red paint should be given him, and his looking-glass held up, that he might paint his face.

_Austin._ And did he paint his face himself?

_Hunter._ Only one half of it; after which his throat, neck, wrists and the backs of his hands were made as red as vermilion would make them. The very handle of his knife was coloured over in the same way.

_Basil._ What did he paint his hands and his knife-handle for?

_Hunter._ Because it was the custom of his tribe, and of his fathers before him, to paint themselves and their weapons red, whenever they took an oath of destruction to their enemies. Oseola did it, no doubt, that he might die like a chief of his tribe; that he might show those around him, that, even in death, he did not forget that he was a Seminole warrior. In that awful hour, he put on his splendid turban with its three ostrich feathers, and then, being wearied with the effort he had made, he lay down to recover his strength.

_Austin._ How weak he must have been!

_Hunter._ In a short time he rose again, sitting in his full dress like the leader of a warlike tribe, and calmly and smilingly extended his hand to the chiefs and officers, to his wives and his children. But this, his last effort, exhausted his remaining strength. He was lowered down on the bed, calmly drew his scalping-knife from its sheath under his war-belt, where it had been placed, and grasped it with firmness and dignity. With his hands crossed on his manly breast, and with a smile on his face, he breathed his last. Thus passed away the spirit of Oseola.

_Austin._ Poor Oseola! He died like a chief, at last.

_Hunter._ He did, but not like a Christian, and, very likely, when he grasped his scalping-knife, before his last breath forsook him, some glowing vision of successful combat was before him. In the pride of his heart, perhaps, he was leading on his braves to mingle in the clash of battle and the death-grapple with his enemies. But is this a fit state of mind for a man to die in? Much as we may admire the steady firmness and unsubdued courage of an Indian warrior in death, emotions of pride and high-mindedness, and thoughts of bloodshed and victory, are as far removed as possible from the principles of Christianity, and most unsuitable to a dying hour. Humility, forgiveness, repentance, hope, faith, peace and joy, are needed at such a season; and the time will come, we trust, when Indians, taught better by the gospel, will think and feel so.