CHAPTER III {I}[18

Death—Mourning for the Deceased—Physical Character—Senses—Manufactures and Arts—Domestic and Warlike Implements—War.

[18] Chapter i of volume ii of the original London edition.—ED.

WHEN an Omawhaw dies, his kinsmen and friends assemble around his body, and bewail their loss with loud lamentation, weeping, and clapping of hands. Ong-pa-ton-ga, being once on a visit to St. Louis, observed a number of cattle gathering about a spot, where one of their kind had been recently slaughtered, smelling the blood, and pawing the earth; he said they behaved very like his own people, on the death of a relative.

They suffer the deceased to remain but a short time previously to interment, and often bear the body to the grave, before the warmth of vitality is entirely dissipated. The body is enveloped in a bison robe, or blanket, which is secured by a cord. It is then carried to the grave on the shoulders of two or three men, and followed by the greater portion of the mourners, without any order. The grave is an oblong square, of sufficient length, and four or five feet deep. The body is placed in the grave, and {2} with it a pair or two of mockasins, some meat for food, and many little articles and comforts, the gifts of affection, to be used on the long journey which the deceased is supposed to be about to perform, in order to arrive at the Wa-noch-a-te, or town of brave and generous spirits. The grave is then filled with earth, and a small tumulus is raised over it, proportioned in magnitude to the dignity of the deceased. The relatives bedaub their persons with white clay, scarify themselves with a flint, cut out pieces of their skin and flesh, pass arrows through their skin; and, if on a march, they walk barefoot at a distance from their people, in testimony of the sincerity of their mourning.

For a considerable time, they nightly visit the grave of the deceased, to lament over it. A sorrowing relative may be seen, of a bleak wintry night, bending over the grave, clad in a scanty robe, which scarcely conceals the middle of the back, as an additional self-punishment and unequivocal manifestation of grief.

For the death of a brave warrior, or of a chief, the lamentation is more general, and many of those who visit the body previous to its removal, present to it blankets, bison robes, breech-cloths, and mockasins, which are sometimes thus accumulated in considerable numbers; of these presents, part is retained by the orphans, if any, but the greater number is entombed with the body. Over the grave of a person of this description, a kind of roof or shelter is constructed, of pieces of wood reared against each other, and secured at top, then sodded over with grass sod.

The season prescribed by custom for mourning, is a period of from seven to twelve months; during this time the violent expressions of their grief gradually diminish, and towards the expiration of the allotted season, the state of mourning is only manifested by the coating of white clay, and even this, like the black apparel of civilized mourners, is at length {3} dispensed with, and with the same decorous gradation.

A cruel proof of heartfelt grief, is exhibited by some of the natives, on the upper parts of the Missouri; they cut off joints of their fingers; the individual cuts the skin and ligaments of the joint with his common eating knife, then places the joint between his teeth, and twists it off with violence, the teeth performing at the same time the offices of a wedge and a vice.

In form, the Missouri Indian is symmetrical and active, and in stature, equal, if not somewhat superior, to the ordinary European standard; tall men are numerous. The active occupations of war and hunting, together perhaps with the occasional privations, to which they are subjected, prevents that unsightly obesity, so often a concomitant of civilization, indolence, and serenity of mental temperament.

From this representation of the physical man, it is obvious that our observations do not correspond with those of Humboldt, regarding the natives of Canada, Florida, and New Spain, in as far as he represents them with the "squat body."

The forehead retires remarkably backward, and the posterior part of the head (occiput) has a flatness of appearance, attributable, perhaps, to the circumstance of its having rested so constantly during infancy, on the surface of a board, or on the scarcely less yielding interposed pad or pillow. Yet that organ, to which, in the phrenological system, the seat of amativeness is referred, although not usually very prominent, is still marked and distinct.

The facial angle of the cranium has been represented by Blumenbach at 73 degrees, an obliquity which induced him to place the American Indian in his series of the varieties of the human race, as the fourth in number.

But his observations were made upon the cranium of a Carib, than which people, as Humboldt justly {4} remarks, "there is no race on the globe in which the frontal bone is more depressed backwards, or which has a less projecting forehead." This observation will not rigidly apply to the western Indian, who certainly possesses a greater verticality of profile. Agreeably to the mensurations of Doctor Harlan,[19] a cranium, which we obtained on the plains of the Platte, exhibits an angle of 78 degrees—A Wabash male 78°, female 80°, and a Cherokee only 75°.

[19] Richard Harlan (1796-1843) was a prominent physician of Philadelphia, and member of many learned societies. At the time of publication of the account of Long's expedition, he was professor of comparative anatomy in the Philadelphia museum. At the time of his death at New Orleans (1843), he was vice-president of the Louisiana Medical Society.—ED.

The hair is coarse, black, glossy, and dense upon the head, sparse and slender upon the chin, independently of the custom of extirpating it, but although the hair is certainly oval in its transverse section, yet we could not perceive, that, in this respect, its proportions exceeded our own.

The line of the direction of their eyes is nearly rectilinearly transverse, being in this respect intermediate between the arcuated line of the eyes of the white man, and that of the Indians of New Spain, who, according to Humboldt, have the corner of the eye directed upward towards the temples.

The nose is generally prominent, and either aquiline or Roman, with the wings not more dilated than those of white men. This form of nose is so prevalent, as to be regarded as the most beautiful; it is no small compliment to tell a person that his nose is like that of a mule; and beauty is indicated in their language of signs, by placing an arcuated finger upon the face in imitation of the aquiline curve. The _pug-nose_, and the more common form of the noses of the white Americans, of a concave outline, are regarded as remote from the standard of beauty.

The lips are more tumid than those of the white American, but very far less so than those of the negro.

The lower jaw is large and robust; the teeth are very strong, with broad crowns. The chin is well formed.

{5} The cheekbones are prominent, but not angular like those of the Mongul, and stamp a peculiarity on the contour of the face, characteristic of the American Indian.

The expression of the countenance is austere, often ferocious.[20]

[20] The gravity of the Indian is almost proverbial: he will smile, but he rarely laughs. He does not indulge in badinage, or unnecessary remarks respecting the weather, merely for the purpose of talking, and generally addresses his companions in a low voice, and with few words, excepting in council, when his elocution is loud, rapid, and vehement: the voice is full, harsh, and somewhat guttural. The squaw, not unfrequently, offers a perfect contrast in this respect, in her vivacious demeanour, shrill loquacity, and pleasant smile, and laugh, readily excited.—JAMES.

Very few of them are left-handed, perhaps even a smaller number of them use the left hand in preference to the right, than is observable among white men.

The squaw differs from the males, in having a more squat figure, or is shorter and more thick bodied, with a much broader face.

The colour of the Indian is, according to Volney, that of the skin of smoked bacon ham. It is sufficiently obvious that this colour is independent of climate; those parts of the body, which are, and, agreeably to their representations, always have been, perfectly shielded from the action of the rays of the sun, from their youth upward, are, notwithstanding, of the same tint with the face, which is never covered.

In walking they preserve a perfectly upright carriage of the person, without any thing of the swinging gait so universal with the white people, which is regarded by them as excessively awkward, and which they imitate in their sports to excite the merriment of the spectators, though not in the presence of those whom they thus ridicule.

In stepping the feet are universally placed upon the ground in a parallel manner with each other; they say that turning out the toes in walking, as well as turning them inward, is a very disadvantageous mode of progression, in high grass or in narrow pathways.

The peculiar odour diffused by the body of the Indian, seems to be caused, not so much by the cutaneous transpiration, as by the custom of rubbing themselves with odoriferous plants, and with bison {6} grease. They also sometimes make necklaces of a sort of sweet-scented grass, and suspend small parcels of it about their persons. The various kinds of pigments, with which they overspread their persons, may also be partially operative in producing this effect; and the ninnegahe, which they are so constantly habituated to smoke, is doubtless another agent.

The odour of the Indian is rather agreeable than otherwise to many, and that diffused by the persons of the Pawnee war party near the Konza village, increased by a profuse perspiration from the violence of their exercise in running, was rather pleasant to most of the members of our party. The Upsaroka or Crow Indians, are said to anoint themselves with castor.

To the acute sense of smelling of the Indian, the odour of the white man is far from pleasant, and is often particularly remarked by the squaw to be offensive.

Their sense of hearing is remarkably acute; ordinary conversation amongst the men, as we have before observed, is conducted in a low tone of voice; often when you suppose from the compass of the speaker's voice, that he is addressing a person at his elbow, he is, in reality, directing his discourse to one on the opposite side of the room, or at a considerable distance. The ordinary conversation of the women is in a much louder tone than that of the men. Partial deafness, however, is not uncommon.

The memory of the Omawhaw is exceedingly retentive.

The Omawhaw seldom renders himself unhappy with gloomy anticipations of the future, but almost literally takes "no care for the morrow." He will say to his squaw, "cook what meat you have, for the Wahconda will give us more to-morrow, and if not to-morrow, next day, and if never, let us eat what we have got."

{7} They have but little mechanical ingenuity, but an individual of this nation, who is now no more, without acquiring any knowledge of the white people, as far as we could learn, mended the guns and traps of his countrymen, when not too seriously injured. But they have not attempted to repair either, since his death.

They rarely construct skin canoes; they make war-clubs, rude saddles, hair ropes, stone pipes, wooden bowls, horn spoons, and many personal ornaments.

The squaws make mockasins and leggings variously ornamented; and handsome necklaces, wrought with beads of different colours, which are symmetrically strung upon red silk, or thread coloured with vermillion. In the manufacture of this common, and much admired article of dress, ten double threads are attached by one end to a small _wang_ or shred of leather, which is firmly stretched and fixed transversely to the work; each double thread is placed at such a distance from the adjoining ones, as to give room for the beads. These are then strung on, one upon each double thread; by this operation a transverse row of beads is formed upon the work, parallel to the _wang_; this being done, the left hand double thread is passed to the right, not over and under, but through all the other double threads, parallel to, and in contact with the row of beads, and in this position occupies the situation of woof or _filling_; but its extremity is continued along on the right side of the work, so as to resume, in that portion of its length, the character of warp or _chain_. Another row of beads is now put on; after which the next left hand double thread is passed through each of the others to the right of the work, as the previous one had been.

They also make handsome garters for supporting the leggings below the knee, of the breadth of the hand; they are formed of beads strung on worsted yarn.

{8} Their art of painting is very rude, yet they manage to give some idea of a battle, by graphic representations in colour, on a bison robe. In the same manner are depicted the various animals, which are the objects of their hunts. These robes are also decorated with blue, red, and black broad lines, forming various designs; indeed it is very common to see a robe thus ornamented, worn by an Omawhaw.

The art of sculpture is also in its rudest state, and is almost limited to the ornamenting of the war-club with indented lines, forming different angular figures.

Their persons are often neatly tattooed in straight lines, and in angles on the breast, neck, and arms. The daughters of chiefs, and those of wealthy Indians, generally are denoted by a small round spot, tattooed on the forehead. The process of tattooing is performed by persons, who make it a business of profit. Their instrument consists of three or four needles, tied to the truncated and flattened end of a stick, in such an arrangement that the points may form a straight line; the figure desired is traced upon the skin, and some dissolved gunpowder, or pulverized charcoal, is pricked in with this instrument, agreeably to the figure. The operator must be well paid, and hence it is not every one that can conveniently sustain the expense of having this distinguishing mark placed on the forehead of his children.

Their astronomical knowledge is very limited. They distinguish the north star (Polaris), and are aware of its being apparently stationary, while the others seem to revolve. Venus is known by the name of _Me-ka-ka-tun-guh_, or big star. The constellation of the seven stars (Pleiades), is called _Tapa_, or deer's head. The constellation of the great bear (Ursa major), is distinguished by the term _Wa-ba-ha_, or car for transporting sick or wounded {9} persons on a march. The galaxy is called _Wahconda-o-jun-ga_, or the path of the Master of Life. When the moon is eclipsed, they say _Me-om-bottsa_, or the moon is dead; and when the sun is eclipsed, they say the sun is dead. A comet they denominate _Me-ka-ka-nare_, or blazing star; this name, at least, was given to the comet of 1811; they regarded it as portending the death of some great chief; and as it happened, one of the great Pawnee chiefs did die the same year, which confirmed them in their notion. The three stars of Orion's belt, are called _Me-huh-se_, or the goose-foot.

Wangewaha, the Hard Heart, chief of the Ioways, has made himself considerably acquainted with the manners of the white people; he surprised Mr. Dougherty one day by inquiring, if it is true that the earth revolves round the sun; he was of course answered in the affirmative; when a sarcastic Indian of a group sitting near, was overheard to say in a low voice, that it was indeed a pretty story to tell them, when any person could see the sun rise there, pass along in that direction, and set there (pointing with his finger to the apparent course of the luminary).

The day is divided into morning, noon, evening, and night; and respectively indicated by the words, _Cas-aht-te_, _Me-o-kons-ka_, _Paz-za_, and _Hon-da_. Any particular hour of the day is denoted by pointing to the apparent place of the sun at the specified time. The years are denoted by the number of winters, and the months by lunations.

Their geographical knowledge of the country over which they roam is remarkably exact. They know intimately every river and creek in the vicinity of the Missouri, from Grand river up to the Arickaree nation, on the left side of the river, and as far down as the Osage river on the right, and south as far as the Black Hills, together with their courses and distances.

{10} Mr. Dougherty, accompanied with two or three young Indians, arrived at an Omawhaw hunting encampment, late in the evening, and, after inquiring at several of the lodges, at length entered the one in which he intended to remain. Being asked by which way he had come, he pointed out, as he thought, the true direction; at this his fellow travellers smiled, and told him he was mistaken. He was not undeceived till he went out of the lodge to observe the direction they had indicated, when he became satisfied of their correctness. They had, however, been less frequently in that part of the country than he had been; but they had, without doubt, instinctively noted all the changes of the direction which they had made in winding through the temporary village, for they could not avail themselves of previous local knowledge.

But although they are remarkably accurate in their knowledge of the proper direction in which to travel, in order to reach a given point, yet they are often lost during foggy days, or during heavy snow storms.

Their culinary utensils are few in number, and simple in kind. The original earthenware pots are now rarely used by the nations on the lower part of the Missouri, being substituted by brass kettles, which they procure from the traders in exchange for their peltries. The Pawnees, however, whose intercourse with the whites has been less considerable than that of the nations bordering more closely on the Missouri, still employ earthen vessels, and yet continue the limited manufacture of them. These vessels are not glazed, and resemble in composition the antique fragments of Indian earthenware, found in various parts of the United States; the mementos of a numerous people, that have been destroyed by obscure causes, as well as by the avaricious policy, and cruelly unjust and barbarous encroachments of {11} a people, professing the mild doctrines of "peace on earth and good will to men."

Food is served up in wooden bowls, of a very wide and simple form, and of various sizes, generally carved, with much patient application, out of a large knot or protuberance of the side of a tree. The spoon is made of bison horn, and is of a large size; the handle, variously ornamented by notching and other rude carving, is elevated into an angle of fifty or sixty degrees with its bowl, which is about three inches wide, by about five in length; a size which, in civilised life, would be inadmissible.

The only implement of husbandry is the hoe; if they have not an iron one, they substitute the scapula of a bison, attached to a stick in such a manner as to present the same form. The traders supply them with axes of iron.

The weapons used in hunting are bows and arrows, and guns. The bow is about four feet long, of a simple form, composed of hickory, or hop-horn beam wood, (ostrya virginica,) or bow-wood,(maclura aurantiaca of Nuttall,) the latter being greatly preferred. The cord is of twisted bison, or elk sinew. The hunting arrow is generally made of arrow-wood, (viburnum,) about two feet in length, of the usual cylindric form, and armed with elongate-triangular spear-head, made of sheet iron, of which the shoulders are rounded, instead of the ordinary barbed form; it is firmly affixed to the shank by deer sinew, and its flight is equalised by three half webs of the feathers of a turkey, neatly secured near its base, in the usual manner. The war arrow differs from that used for hunting, in having a barbed spear-head, very slightly attached to the wood, so that if it penetrate the body of an enemy, it cannot be withdrawn without leaving the point in the wound.

The arrows are contained in a quiver, which is slung obliquely across the back, and which is generally made of Cougar skin, with the tail of the {12} animal dangling down from the upper extremity; attached to this quiver is also a skin case for the bow, when not in use. To bend the bow requires the exertion of considerable force, dexterously applied; for this purpose three fingers are placed upon the string, whilst the thumb and index finger grasp the base of the arrow, where it rests on the string; the wrist is defended from the percussion of the string by a guard of leather. The smooth bored gun is preferred to the rifle, the latter being too heavy for their use. Those called Mackinaw guns are greatly preferred to those which they more commonly procure from our traders, being far more substantial and serviceable.

They make use of no traps, excepting those for catching beaver, which they obtain from the traders chiefly on loan. The hooks which they use in fishing are bought of the traders. They have no fishing nets.

We saw no other domestic animals in the Indian villages than horses, mules, asses, and dogs. The first are by no means elegantly formed, but they are hardy and serviceable. The Indians are generally cruel horse masters, perhaps in a great measure through necessity; the backs of their horses are very often sore and ulcerated, from the friction of the rude saddle, which is fashioned after the Spanish manner, being elevated at the pummel and croup, and resting on skin saddle cloths without padding. They ride extremely well, and make great use of the whip and the heel. The former is attached to the wrist by a broad band, which passes through a hole perforated near the end of the handle. The handle is about fifteen inches long only, and very stout; that of the whip of Hashea, the Oto warrior, is the section of a gun-barrel. The lash is composed of two thongs of bison skin, from one-fourth to half an inch wide. These are alternately passed through small longitudinal slits cut in each, and, when {13} finished, exhibit, on a cursory view, the appearance of a flat plait, thick, and longer than the handle.

The dogs of the Konzas are generally of a mixed breed, between our dogs with pendant ears, and the native dogs, whose ears are universally erect; the Indians of this nation seek every opportunity to cross the breed. These mongrel dogs are less common with the Omawhaws; while the dogs of the Pawnees generally have preserved their original form.

No regular sentinels are appointed to watch during the night; but many of the young men, who are moving about the greater part of the night on their errands of love, often singing and hallooing to excite the attention of their mistresses, are the only guards of the safety of the village from surprise. If, however, the nation have reason to believe that the enemy is near at hand, or that there is a probability of an attack, they are necessarily vigilant; young warriors volunteer to look out at different points, or are requested to do so by the chiefs.

Wars generally originate in the stealing of horses, and the elopement of squaws; they are sometimes the consequence of infringing on each other's hunting grounds. Hostilities are generally conducted by small predatory parties, which are originated and formed under the influence of some approved warrior. An individual of this description, having determined to endeavour to assemble a war party, as a first step, paints himself over with white clay; he then passes through the camp or village, crying aloud to the Wahconda, and requesting the young warriors of the nation to have pity on him, and accompany him to strike at the enemy; he then ascends some hill or elevation, or repairs to the woods, and there continues for some time his ejaculations. The following day he gives a feast to all such as are willing to accompany him; and it is distinctly understood, that all of those who partake of his hospitality on this occasion are enlisted for the {14} excursion. He occasionally repeats this crying and feasting, until a convenient period can be assigned for their departure. During this interval he also occupies himself in _making medicine_, hanging out his medicine bags, &c. At his feasts he harangues his men, telling them that they must endeavour to make themselves known to the nation by their warlike deeds.

This leader the French distinguish by the name of _partizan_, and the Omawhaws _No-doh-hun-guh_; his medicine parcel, upon which much reliance is placed, for the successful termination of their adventure, contains, almost always, the skin of a sparrow hawk (Falco sparverius), and many small articles, such as wampum, beads, and tobacco, all attached to a belt, but carefully and neatly enveloped in bark, and tied around by strips of the same material, forming a cylindrical figure, of about twelve inches in length.

This is suspended upon the back or shoulders of the partizan, by its belt, which passes round his neck.

Having their mockasins, leggings, guns, bows and arrows, spears, war clubs, and scalping knives prepared, each man furnishes himself with some provisions, and they all depart silently during the night, led by the partizan.

On their route towards the enemy they proceed with great caution, and constantly send forward runners, or spies, to reconnoitre. When encamped, some individuals are vigilant during the night, but if they suppose themselves to be distant from the enemy, they keep no watch.

The medicine bag is not permitted to touch the ground; accordingly on encamping, it is carefully suspended to a forked stick, which is stuck firmly in the soil; the ceremony of smoking to it, is then performed, the stem of the pipe being occasionally directed towards it, the heavens and the earth. After this ceremony, if the party is in the vicinity of the {15} enemy, the partizan places the medicine bag about the neck of one of his trusty warriors, and, whispering in his ear, directs him to take two or three men, and look carefully about for signs of the enemy.

On the return of this messenger the partizan runs to meet him, receives his report in a whisper, takes the important charge from his neck, and whilst returning it to its place, communicates the intelligence he has received to his party; "no sign of the enemy has yet been discovered, but have patience, my brave young men, the Wahconda will soon have pity on us, and show us the enemy we so anxiously seek." If, on the contrary, the enemy is discovered, his position and numbers are reconnoitred, and the party prepares to attack them. The sacred medicine bag is now opened by the partizan; the envelop is rejected, and the remainder is suspended from his neck, with the bird skin, wampum, &c. hanging down before from the belt. This is a signal, indicating that a blow must be struck. The party then paint themselves, and smoke if time admits of it. The partizan at length gives the wished for order, and the whole move onward, with slow and cautious steps, in order to surprise the enemy; but if discovered, they rush on with impetuosity, and without any regular order. If the scene of the contest lies in the forest, they shield themselves behind trees of small diameter, when at the proper distance, from whence they discharge their missiles. If the attack is made in the open plain, where no shelter offers, they leap about from one side to another, and preserve a constant state of activity, for the purpose of preventing any steady aim from being taken at them by their adversaries.

It is not the mere shooting down of an enemy that confers great honour upon a warrior; this, the Indians say, can be done by any person, however cowardly he may be. But high distinction is due to the gallant soul, that advances upon the field of {16} battle, and captures an enemy, or who first strikes, or even touches the body of a fallen enemy, in presence of the friends of the deceased, who are generally watching their opportunity to revenge his death.

This is, indeed, an extraordinary proof of courage, as the act is not to be accomplished without the greatest hazard of life; the adventurer is obliged to expose himself, often, to a great number of assailants, besides the danger of falling into an ambush, in attempting to strike the decoy. It is this _striking_, that is numbered amongst their war feats by the warriors, at their dances.

The capture of a prisoner confers the highest honour on the captor. Striking an enemy, whilst active, appears to be the second in rank, of their great martial achievements. Striking his dead, or disabled body, confers the third honour. Capturing a horse may be regarded as the fourth; presenting a horse to any person, the fifth, and the shooting, or otherwise killing an enemy, by a missile, is the sixth in point of rank of military deeds, in the estimation of the Omawhaws. The taking of a scalp is merely an evidence of what has been done, and, of itself, seems to confer no honour.

The prisoners are well guarded, and not roughly treated, unless a strong party of the enemy are in pursuit, when they are put to death.

On the battle ground, the wounded of the vanquished are killed, and their dead are cut and hacked by the victors; but if it should chance to be accessible to the squaws, they perform the chief part in this tragedy. They sever the limbs from the bodies, and attaching them to strings, drag them about with vociferous exultation: etiam genitalia excidunt, and tying them about the necks of their dogs, they drive them before them, with much shouting, laughter, noise, and obscene expressions.

{17} A war party, after having struck a blow upon the enemy, return with rapidity towards their village.

They leave the mutilated carcasses of the slain upon the contested field, a prey to the wolves and vultures. Their own dead are covered with wood or stones, and their wounded are transported on litters, on the shoulders of others, or if they have horses with them, upon cars of a very simple construction. Two poles are attached to the neck of the horse, in the manner of shafts, which trail upon the ground behind. These are so connected behind the horse, with cross pieces lashed on, that a bison robe can be suspended to them, for the reception of the wounded person.

If the attack is made during the night, or if the party has only captured horses unobserved by the enemy, a mockasin or arrow is left in a conspicuous situation, to inform the enemy of the nation to which the aggressors belong.

Large war parties sometimes divide into smaller parties, in order to attack simultaneously at different points. Each of these parties on its return, at its different encampments, inserts small painted sticks in the soil, pointing to the route they have taken. They also peel off a portion of the bark from a tree, and on the trunk thus denuded and rendered conspicuous, they delineate hieroglyphics with vermillion or charcoal, indicative of the success or misfortune of the party in their proceedings against the enemy. These hieroglyphics are rudely drawn, but are sufficiently significant, to convey the requisite intelligence to another division of the party that may succeed them. On this rude chart, the combatants are generally represented by small straight lines, each surmounted by a head-like termination, and are readily distinguishable from each other; the arms and legs are also represented, when necessary to record the performance of some particular act, or to exhibit a wound. Wounds are indicated by the representation of the {18} dropping of blood from the part; an arrow wound, by adding a line for the arrow, from which the Indian is able, to estimate with some accuracy, its direction, and the depth to which it entered. The killed are represented by prostrate lines; equestrians are also particularized, and if wounded or killed, they are seen to spout blood, or to be in the act of falling from their horses. Prisoners are denoted by their being led, and the number of captured horses is made known by the number of lunules, representing their track. The number of guns taken may be ascertained by bent lines, on the angle of which is something like the prominences of the lock. Women are portrayed with short petticoats and prominent breasts, and unmarried females by the short queues at the ears, before described.

A war party, on its return, generally halts upon some elevated ground within sight of the village; and if they have been successful, they sit down and smoke their pipes. The villagers on discovering them rush out to meet them, and receive a brief relation of the events that have occurred during the expedition.

All then return to the village, exhibiting by the way the greatest demonstrations of joy, by discharging their guns, singing war-songs, &c. The scalps stretched upon hoops, and dried, are carried upon rods of five or six feet in length.

Arrived at the village, some of the squaws, wives to the warriors of the party, assume the dress of their husbands, and, with the rods bearing the scalps in their hands, dance around a large post, reddened with vermillion, and, in concert with the young warriors, sing the war and scalp songs; the young warriors occasionally step into the ring of the dancers, and all keep time, with dance and song, to the loud beat of the gong. Into this dance are also admitted the relatives of the war party.

This barbarous dance appears to delight them, {19} and particularly the squaws, who are the principal actors, more than almost any other of their enjoyments.

Indeed, it is to the squaws that many of these excursions are attributable, as those whose husbands have not been successful in war, frequently murmur, saying, "You have had me for a wife a long time, and have never yet gratified me with the scalp dance."

Those squaws, whose husbands or relatives have been killed during the excursions of the party, take no part in this blissful dance, but rub themselves with clay, and lament.

This dance is repeated every night for two or three weeks, after which it is renewed occasionally for a twelvemonth. The scalps are often cut into slips, that many of the dancers may be accommodated with them; but this was never done with an intention to deceive, respecting the actual number of the enemy killed. After the termination of this ceremony, the scalps are either thrown away, or are used to decorate the leggings of the warrior, or to suspend from his medicine-bag, or from the bridle of his horse.

Soon after the return of the party, the principal warriors are invited to feasts by different villagers, where they recount the events that have transpired during their absence. They narrate the mode of approaching the enemy, the onset, the battle, all the little particulars of which are detailed: but they seem to dwell with particular pleasure on the conduct of individuals of the enemy, as it appeared immediately before they received the death blow; if there was any movement of the body, or emotion exhibited upon the countenance of the victim, that betrayed a want of firmness, or fear of death, at that awful juncture, the account excites much laughter in the audience. If the disabled individual was so imbecile as to shrink from a blow of the tomahawk {20} or war-club, he is ridiculed as a coward. If he is said to have cried for quarter, or begged for mercy, or to have held up the palm of his hand towards the victor to appease his vengeance, the account is received with ridicule and laughter, at the expense of the deceased. If, on the contrary, he is said to have perished with that stoicism and contempt of death, which is regarded as worthy of the Indian warrior, the auditors, although they may smile with pleasure at the death of an enemy, yet pay due honour to his manes, saying he was a brave fellow; and they do not fail to applaud the bravery of his victor also.

All those of the party who have first struck a body, or taken a prisoner, paint themselves black, and if any strangers are in the village, they put on their _crow_, and appear before them, or near them, and sing their war-song in which their exploits are detailed.

The prisoners are differently treated according to their sex, age, and qualifications. Of the squaws they make slaves, or rather servants, though these are sometimes advantageously married. To the young men the task of tending horses is commonly assigned; but the children are generally adopted into their families, and are treated in every respect as their own offspring; when arrived at maturity they are identified with the nation, and it would be an insult to apply the name of their own countrymen to them.

{21} CHAPTER IV {II}

War—Negociation for Peace—Revenge—Self-esteem—Hospitality—Mimicry.

AN individual warrior not unfrequently goes to war unaccompanied; but parties are generally made up for this purpose, in the manner before mentioned. In cases of extraordinary provocation, the whole nation of warriors marches in a body to attack the enemy, under the direction of the principal chief.

More than twenty years ago, the Omawhaws marched against the Pawnee Mahas or Pawnee Loups. They encountered them on their hunting grounds, between the Platte and Quicourre[21] rivers, in the prairie, where they attacked them, killed sixty, and wounded a great many; after securing a number of prisoners, and many horses, they returned with their booty, having lost but fifteen warriors. Peace was soon after concluded between the two nations, which has not been since violated, excepting on one occasion, when their dispute was bloodless, and of but short duration.

[21] Now more commonly known by its Indian name of Niobrara, which signifies the same as L'Eau qui Court (Running Water or Rapid River), of which Quicourre is a corruption. The entire course of this river lies in Nebraska, just below its northern boundary.—ED.

Sometime after this event, Mot-tschu-jinga, or the Little Grizzly Bear, a brave and distinguished warrior of the nation, with two or three attendants, visited the village of the Pawnee republicans, in order to perform the calumet dance before the people. This was a band with whom they were barely at peace. The republicans seized him, flogged him, cut off his hair, broke his pipe, forced him to drink urine mixed with bison gall, and drove him from the village without food. These extraordinary and most humiliating indignities aroused within him the fiercest spirit of vengeance. He returned, and related his misfortune {22} to his people, who, penetrated with indignation, promptly assembled in arms, and led by the great Washingguhsahba, or Black Bird, marched to revenge such unheard-of indignity. When within a short distance of the devoted village, they placed their squaws in a secure situation, under a proper guard, and proceeded to the attack. They urged the contest so fiercely that the enemy was driven from lodge to lodge, until four lodges only were left to them, in which they succeeded in defending themselves; the town, with the exception only of the four lodges, was then burned to the ground, and the victors retired after destroying nearly one hundred of the enemy, and wounding a great number, with the loss to themselves of only fifteen warriors.

Under the same great leader, the nation, on another occasion, attacked the Puncaws; this act was induced by the practice of the latter of stealing squaws and horses from the Omawhaws. The Puncaws, for the purpose of defending themselves against the fire of the enemy, threw up an earthen embankment; but finding, notwithstanding the protection it afforded them, that their numbers rapidly diminished under the galling fire opposed to them, they determined to sue for peace; for this purpose two pipe-bearers were sent out successively towards the enemy, but they were both shot down. A chief then dressed up his handsome daughter, and sent her forth with a pipe to the Omawhaws. This mission was respected, the stern victors were vanquished by beauty, the proffered pipe was accepted, and unhesitatingly smoked, and a peace was concluded, which has not since been infracted by the Omawhaws. Soon after the death of Washingguhsahba, his successor Mushchinga, the Big Rabbit, led the nation against the Otoes, whom they attacked in their village. It was the intention of the assailants to burn the village, and exterminate the nation. With this view they provided themselves with dry grass, which was twisted into the form of thick ropes, {23} and secured to their girdles. When within the proper distance they despatched a detachment to take ambush on the opposite side of the village, then kindled a fire, at which they lighted the grass torches, and rushing into the village, succeeded in setting many of the lodges on fire, by fixing the torches to them. Such was the fury of the unexpected attack, that the Oto warriors were driven from the village, but falling into the ambuscade, they fought their way back to their lodges with much slaughter. A heavy fall of rain now commenced, which rescued the remaining Otoes from entire destruction. The conflagration was quickly extinguished, the guns and bow-strings of the invaders became useless, and the Otoes sallying out with fresh weapons, forced them to a precipitate retreat. The loss was severe on both sides, but the Omawhaws succeeded in carrying off almost all the horses of the enemy, besides a number of prisoners, furniture, &c. The war continued between these two nations until the pacification which was accomplished through the agency of Lewis and Clark, and has continued to the present day.

Reverting to the period of the government of Washingguhsahba, we are informed that the Padoucas once approached the nation, and stole a number of horses, when this chief assembled his warriors, and pursued them; observing the tracks of their feet in the soft earth, he discharged his gun repeatedly into them, declaring that thereby he would cripple the fugitives so entirely, that it would be easy to overtake and destroy them. Accordingly he did overtake them, and, agreeably to the Indian account, they were unable to defend themselves, and were all destroyed but two or three, who escaped, and failed not to inform their people of the wonderful medicine of the victor.

The last martial expedition of Washingguhsahba, terminated disastrously for his nation. He led his warriors against the Konzas, halted them near the {24} village of that people, and singly rode round the village, repeatedly discharging his gun at the inhabitants, as he passed swiftly by them. As soon as the Konza warriors were collected, they sallied out in pursuit of the Black Bird, who had now joined his party. The parties closed, and intermingled in fight, and the contest was obstinate and protracted. An Omawhaw pierced the thigh of a Konza with an arrow; the latter called aloud to inquire the name of his adversary, and was answered, No-zun-doj-je (he who does not dodge). "My name," said the Konza, "is —— (he who kills brave men), so come on, we are happily met." They approached each other, leaping laterally and capering, the Omawhaw discharging his arrows, and the Konza endeavouring to get aim with his fusee; the latter at length succeeded, and shot his opponent.

The conflict at length became too warm for the Omawhaws, who retreated eight miles, disputing the ground, however, the whole distance. They now arrived at the prairie, on which we encamped on the evening of the 24th of August last.

Here the Omawhaws again made a stand, and fought the principal battle, but were overpowered, and obliged to fly, leaving their numerous killed and wounded to the vengeance of the enemy.

These two nations still continue hostile to each other.

It is said that during the youth of Washingguhsahba, he was taken prisoner by the Sioux. That the town of the Omawhaws, was then on the opposite bank of the Missouri, at the mouth of the stream called by Lewis and Clark, Floyd's river,[22] and that the nation had not, at that time, been long resident there.

[22] Sergeant Floyd, of the Lewis and Clark expedition, died here in August, 1804, whence the name of the stream, which it still bears. Its mouth is on the Iowa side, just below Sioux City.—ED.

Some time previous to the variolous mortality in the Omawhaw nation, several bands of Sioux, in conjunction with the Shienne nation,[23] attacked them on their return from a summer hunt, and overpowered them by numbers.

[23] On the Cheyenne, see Bradbury's _Travels_, in our volume v, note 88.—ED.

{25} A few years since, the Pawnees made a general attack upon the Konza village. They were all mounted on horseback, and rode furiously about, whilst they fired into the Konza lodges. The principal chief of the nation, Burning Heart, ran through his village, calling out to his warriors to remain quietly in their houses for the present, and not show themselves to the enemy, or return their fire, in order to give them time to tire out their horses by continued action. After a while a few shots were returned, to prevent the Pawnees from rushing into the town itself, and when the horses appeared to be sufficiently fatigued, Burning Heart despatched two strong parties from the opposite end of the village from that upon which the attack was made, one of which, moving rapidly upon their hands and knees, gained a ravine, along which they ran until they gained the enemy's rear: they were here joined by the other party, which had gained the same situation by means of a lower prairie, along the bank of which they passed unperceived. Finding themselves thus out-generaled, the Pawnees were under the necessity of charging through the enemy, and flying with jaded horses before them. So rapid was the pursuit, that the Pawnees were obliged to precipitate themselves into the ravines, over which they must pass, to the destruction of many of their horses. Finally, they made their escape, with the loss of eighty men, and the greater part of their horses.

When a hunting party is suddenly attacked by an enemy, the squaws, whilst their husbands are engaged in opposing the enemy, sedulously occupy themselves in digging basin-shaped pits with their hoes, for their personal security, and stooping down in them, escape the missiles of the contending parties; their husbands, if too hard pressed, also retreat to these cavities, from which they can continue the action with very little exposure of their own persons, whilst the enemy possesses no shelter.

{26} Besides the national battles, in which great waste of life occurs, small war parties, or such as have been already described, are almost constantly in motion, and are also destructive.

The Serpent's Head, a distinguished Oto warrior, assembled a war party of thirty men, and moved against the Konzas. Within a few miles of their village, at a narrow defile on Blue-earth Creek, he placed his party in ambush, and with two or three selected men, he advanced to within a hundred yards of the village. At the dawn of day a Konza, having occasion to walk a short distance, was attacked by the Serpent's Head singly, who buried his tomahawk in his head, and took off his scalp, within view of many of the villagers. These seized their weapons, and immediately pursued the fugitives, until they reached the pass, where, falling into the ambuscade prepared for their reception, they lost seven of their number, and were obliged to retreat precipitately, to seek the protection of the main body of their warriors, who, they supposed, were now in pursuit, and at no great distance in the rear.

The Otoes, after striking and scalping the slain, proceeded on their way home, at a very moderate pace, not caring to elude the powerful force, which they well knew must be hard by. The Konza warriors, dashing on at full speed, at length discovered the retreating band, moving at their leisure over a prairie, and immediately attacked them. The Otoes withstood the shock of the overwhelming force for some time, until, losing a number of their party, they were under the necessity of seeking safety in flight.

An Oto hunting party, consisting of five lodges, was encamped in the vicinity of the Konza hunting grounds; two or three of their number, who were at a distance from their companions, encountered a young Konza warrior, who deliberately approached {27} them, and when sufficiently near discharged his gun at them, but was immediately shot down.

The Otoes suspecting, from some appearances, the proximity of a large body of the enemy, precipitately returned to their party, and hastened to place themselves in an attitude of defence. They availed themselves of three large logs, which had fallen so as to form a triangular area, into which they removed their effects, and strengthened the defences in such a manner as to afford them some security.

The squaws dug cavities in the earth for themselves, and their children, as an additional security.

Scarcely were these preparations finished, when the whole body of the Konza warriors made their appearance, and commenced the attack on this little body of fifteen Otoes. These gallant fellows, thus advantageously posted, notwithstanding the fearful odds opposed to them, returned the fire of the enemy promptly, and at length succeeded in repulsing them, with the loss of two or three of their own men, and after having killed about fifteen of the Konzas.

The following trait in the character of a distinguished warrior is worthy of being recorded. During the residence of the Pawnees on the Platte at the cedar hills, about fifteen or eighteen years since, the Otoes were frequently at war with them, notwithstanding their own great numerical inferiority. On one occasion, during a pacific interval, some Otoes followed the Pawnees, who had just left their village on a national hunt, and stole two horses from them. This outrage, committed in time of peace, highly incensed Wasacaruja: "If you wish for war," said he to the offenders, as he mounted his horse, "you shall have it." He rode immediately, in his anger, to the deserted Pawnee village, and setting fire to the lodges, burned them all to the ground.

On their return, the Pawnees, finding their village destroyed, they marched in a body to the Otoes, {28} and demanded satisfaction for the injury they had received. Wasacaruja, perhaps, penitent for his rash act, and no doubt now wishing to avert the hostilities which he had incited, advanced to them at once, saying "I am the person who burned your town, kill me if you will." This however the Pawnees declined, and were at length reconciled to their loss, by presents of horses and merchandize. They then removed from the vicinity of the Otoes, and erected their present village on the Loup fork of the Platte.

The Otoes, as well as the Konza warriors, will not, on any consideration, sit down whilst on a war excursion, until evening; they will lie down, and stoop down, but they must not rest upon the ground in a sitting posture.

An Upsaroka, or Crow, war party, who were hovering about the Rickaree village, waiting an opportunity to strike a blow, observed a boy entirely alone, and at a distance from any succour; having a boy belonging to the party much of the same size, they permitted him to attack the Rickaree boy singly; the assailant was successful, and brought off the scalp of the enemy.

One of the warriors then took the scalp, and rode with it near to the village in defiance.

During the last seven or eight years, since they have become influenced by the agents of the United States, the Omawhaws have entirely abstained from carrying the war into the country of their enemies; no unprovoked parties have been sent out, and the nation, agreeably to the injunctions of the agents, restricts its military operations solely to defensive warfare. Partial attacks have been made upon them during this time, which have always been promptly repelled, sometimes with considerable slaughter.

That implicit confidence may be justly reposed upon, at least, some of this people, the following anecdote will testify.

{29} In the year 1815 the Ioways came to the mouth of the Platte river, and found there a trader engaged in trafficking with the Otoes. They attempted to take possession of his merchandize by force, but were opposed and repelled by the Otoes, who determined to protect their trader. The Ioways, however, threatened the trader to plunder him as soon as the Otoes should depart, whose provisions being now nearly exhausted, the fears of the trader for his safety became more excited, in proportion as the time of their departure approached. He despatched a boy with a letter to his partner, Mr. Lisa, then trading at Council Bluff, a distance of thirty miles, informing him of his situation, and of the fact, which had but then come to his knowledge, that the Ioways had formed a small party for the purpose of visiting Council Bluff, and committing some depredations there.

On the reception of this intelligence, Mr. Lisa sent a favourite Omawhaw, Wa-co-ra, to accompany the boy with his reply.

In the meantime the Ioway party had set out, and after travelling a considerable distance, the partizan became lame, and was left with a companion on the way.

Wacora, fortunately, did not meet the party, but he saw the partizan with his companion, calmly seated in fancied security, amongst the thick bushes. He crept silently near to them, who were distinctly recognized by the boy, and discharging his gun, broke the arm of the partizan's companion.

The partizan immediately perceiving the aggressor to be an Omawhaw, exclaimed, "I am a half Omawhaw; I was going to war against the Long-knives, not against the Omawhaws; shoot no more, you have wounded one of us." Wacora answered, "I am a Long-knife," upon which the wounded man made a charge with a lance, and had nearly transfixed the boy, when Wacora shot him; he {30} afterwards killed the partizan, and bore off their scalps. Finding now the trail of the party, which he readily ascertained by their tracks, to consist of nine persons, he determined to return immediately with his utmost speed, even at the risk of meeting with the party, in order to inform Mr. Lisa of their presence in his vicinity; this he accomplished at the imminent hazard of his life. Thus proving that the most unlimited confidence might be safely reposed in his faithful performance of his trusts.

Warriors often venture singly into the vicinity of an enemy's village, and even into the village itself, to capture horses or kill one of the nation. The Borgne, or One Eye, Ka-ko-a-kis, late grand chief of the Minnetarees, entered the village of an enemy at night, with his robe covering his head for concealment. He passed into several lodges, until at length he found one tenanted, at the moment, only by a young squaw; he drew his knife, compelled her to submit to his desires, then stabbed her to the heart, and bore off her scalp. He was a chief possessed of much power, but was almost universally disliked as a very bad man, and was at length killed by the Red-shield chief, E-tam-ina-geh-iss-sha.[24]

[24] On Le Borgne see Bradbury's _Travels_, in our volume v, note 98.—ED.

The warriors often meet together and narrate, emulously, their war exploits; two of them were one day thus engaged, one of whom, Wa-ke-da, or the Shooter, had killed more enemies than any other individual of his nation, although he had never _struck_ more than two or three bodies of the slain. They continued for some time to boast of their feats, when the father of Wakeda, an old man of seventy years, in order to terminate the altercation, leaped from his seat, and, after _striking_ upon several nations, concluded by the following witticism: "I approached the Pawnee-mahaws alone, for the purpose of stealing horses. I entered their village in the evening, succeeded in getting into one of their stalls, and was proceeding to take out the horses, when I was surrounded {31} and made prisoner. They flogged me, thrust a stick into my anus, and sent me off, with the stick depending like a tail." This, as was intended, terminated the boasting, and the parties joined in general good humour.

Their notions of the attributes of bravery differ in many respects from those which we entertain of them. It is, in their estimation, no proof either of valour or good sense, for a warrior to advance into the plain, stand still, and suffer his enemy to take deliberate aim, in order to shoot him down, when such a course of conduct can be avoided; but they say that when a warrior goes to battle, it is a duty, which is due to himself, to his nation, and to his friends, to avail himself of every possible advantage over his enemy, and even to kill him, if he can, without any risk of his own person. But a warrior must never yield in battle; he must contend until death, if he cannot escape from his enemy. And if entirely surrounded, he rushes amongst them, and endeavours to destroy or injure as many as possible, and in death he exhibits traits of passive courage, which form no part of the character of civilized men.

The succeeding narrative may serve, better than any general remarks, to convey an idea of the formalities attendant on a negociation for peace, amongst the Missouri Indians.

During the stay of our detached party at the Konza village, several chief men of the nation requested Mr. Dougherty to lead a pacific deputation from their nation, to their enemies the Otoes, Missouries, and Ioways, then dwelling in one village on the Platte. Circumstances then prevented the gratification of their wishes, but he gave them to understand, that if the deputation would meet our party near Council Bluff, he would probably then be authorized to bear them company; on which they determined to send a party thither. Accordingly, on {32} the day preceding the arrival of our steam-boat at the position chosen for our winter cantonment, a deputation from the Konzas arrived for that purpose. It consisted of six men, led by He-roch-che, or the Real War Eagle, one of the principal warriors of the Konza nation.

Mr. Dougherty having made their pacific mission known to Major O'Fallon, the latter expressed to them his cordial approbation of their intentions, and the following day he despatched Mr. Dougherty with them, to protect them by his presence, on their approach to the enemy, and to assist them by his mediation, in their negociations, should it be found necessary.

They had not proceeded far on the way, when one of the Indians inquired if the Sioux war parties were often in the neighbourhood. Mr. Dougherty informed them that they were; that they had killed an Oto some time since, and more recently, four Omawhaw squaws. This intelligence induced Herochshe to request the loan of Mr. Dougherty's gun; they all looked sharply about them, and requested their guide to take the lead.

The distance to the Oto village is about twenty-five miles; on the journey over the prairies, they espied an object at a distance, which was mistaken for a man, standing upon an eminence. The Indians immediately halted, when Herochshe addressed them, with the assurance that they must put their trust in the Master of life, and in their leader; and observed, that, having journeyed thus far on their business, they must not return until their purpose was accomplished; that if it was their lot to die, no event could save them; "We have set out my braves,"[25] said he, "to eat of the Otoes' victuals, and we must do so or die;" the party then proceeded {33} onward. The Indians are always very cautious when approaching an enemy's village, on any occasion, and this party well knew that their enterprize was full of danger.

[25] When on a war excursion, or a pacific mission, the Indians always address their companions in this manner: "My companion, my brave. My brother, my brave."—JAMES.

In a short time they were again brought to a halt, by the appearance of a considerable number of men and horses, that were advancing towards them. After some consultation and reconnoitring, they sat down upon the ground, and lighting the peace-pipe, or calumet, Herochshe directed the stem of it towards the objects of their suspicion, saying, "smoke friend or foe;" he then directed it towards the Oto village, towards the white people, towards heaven, and the earth, successively.

The strangers, however, proved to be drovers, with cattle for the troops, on their way to Council Bluff.

In consequence of being thus detained, it was late in the afternoon when the party arrived at the Platte river, and as they had still eight miles to travel, and it was indispensable to their safety that they should reach the village before dark, Mr. Dougherty urged his horse rapidly forwards. The Indians, who were all on foot, ran the whole distance, halting but twice, in order to cross the Elk Horn and Platte rivers, although one of them was upwards of sixty years of age, and three of the others were much advanced in years.

As they drew near the Oto village, they were discovered by some boys, who were collecting their horses together for the night, and who, in a telegraphic manner, communicated intelligence of their approach, to the people of the village, by throwing their robes into the air.

The party was soon surrounded by the inhabitants, who rushed towards them, riding and running with the greatest impetuosity. The greatest confusion reigned for some time, the Otoes shouting, hallooing, and screaming, whilst their Konza visitors lamented aloud. Shaumonekusse soon arrived, and restored a {34} degree of order, when, the business of the mission being made known in a few words, the Konzas were taken up behind some of the horsemen, and conveyed as rapidly as possible to the lodge of Shongotongo, lest personal violence should be offered them on the way. They did not, however, escape the audible maledictions of the squaws as they passed, but were stigmatized as wrinkled-faced old men, with hairy chins, &c., ugly faces, and flat noses.

After running this species of gauntlet, they were quietly seated in the lodge, where they were sure of protection. A squaw, however, whose husband had been recently killed by the Konzas, rushed into the lodge, with the intention of seeking vengeance by killing one of the ambassadors on the spot. She stood suddenly before Herochshe, and seemed a very demon of fury. She caught his eye, and at the instant, with all her strength, she aimed a blow at his breast with a large knife, which was firmly grasped in her right hand, and which she seemed confident of sheathing in his heart. At that truly hopeless moment, the countenance of the warrior remained unchanged, and even exhibited no emotion whatever; and when the knife approached its destination, with the swiftness of lightning, his eyes stood firm, nor were its lids seen to quiver; so far from recoiling, or raising his arm to avert the blow, that he even rather protruded his breast, to meet that death which seemed inevitable, and which was only averted by the sudden interposition of the arm of one of her nation, that received the weapon to its very bone.

Thus foiled in her attempt, the squaw was gently led out of the lodge, and no one offered her violence, or even harsh reproof. No further notice was taken of this transaction by either party.

Food was then, as usual, placed before the strangers, and soon after a warrior entered with a pipe, which he held whilst Herochshe smoked, saying in a loud voice, "you tell us that you wish for peace, I say, I {35} will give you a horse, let us see which will be the liar, you or I." The horse was presented to him.

The evening, and much of the night was passed in friendly conversation respecting the events of the five years' war which they had waged with each other.

On the following morning the Konzas were called to partake of the hospitality of different lodges, whilst the principal men of the village were assembled in council, to deliberate upon the subject of concluding a peace.

At noon the joint and grand council was held in the Crenier's lodge. The Otoes, Missouries, and Ioways took their seats around the apartment, with the Konzas in the centre. Herochshe, whose business it was first to speak, holding the bowl of the calumet in his hand, remained immovable for the space of three-fourths of an hour, when he arose, pointed the stem of the calumet towards each of the three nations successively, then towards heaven, and the earth, after which he stretched out his arm, with the palm of the hand towards the members of the council, moving round with his body so as to present the palm towards each of the members in succession. He then proceeded to shake each individual by the hand, after which he returned to his place, and renewed the motion of the hand as before.

Having performed all these introductory formalities, he stood firm and erect, though perfectly easy and unconstrained, and with a bold expression of countenance, loud voice, and emphatical gesticulation, he thus addressed the council.

"Fathers, brothers, chiefs, warriors, and brave men. You are all great men. I am a poor obscure individual. It has, however, become my duty to inform you, that the chiefs and warriors of my nation, sometime ago, held a council for the purpose of concerting measures, to terminate amicably, the cruel and unwelcome war, that has so long existed between us, and chose me, all insignificant as I am, to {36} bring to you this pipe which I hold in my hand. I have visited your village, that we might all smoke from the same pipe, and eat from the same bowl, with the same spoon, in token of our future union in friendship.

"On approaching your village, my friends and relatives, I thought I had not long to live. I expected that you would kill me, and these poor men who have followed me. But I received encouragement from the reflection, that if it should be my fate to die to-day, I would not have to die to-morrow, and I relied firmly upon the Master of life.

"Nor was this anticipation of death unwarranted by precedent. You may recollect that five winters ago, six warriors of my nation came to you, as I have now done, and that you killed them all, but one, who had the good fortune to escape. This circumstance was vivid in my memory when I yesterday viewed your village in the distance; said I, those warriors who preceded me in the attempt to accomplish this desirable object, although they were greater and more brave than I, yet were they killed by those whom they came to conciliate, and why shall not I share their fate; if so, my bones will bleach near theirs. If, on the contrary, I should escape death, I will visit the bones of my friends. The oldest of my followers here, was father-in-law to the chief of those slaughtered messengers; he is poor and infirm, and has followed me with difficulty; his relatives, also, are poor, and have been long lamenting the loss of the chief you killed. I hope you will have pity on him, and give him a pair of mockasins (meaning a horse) to return home with, for he cannot walk. Two or three others of my companions are also in want of mockasins for their journey homeward.

"My friends! we wish for peace, and we are tired of war; there is a large tract of country, intervening between us, from which, as it is so constantly {37} traversed by our respective hostile parties, we cannot either of us kill the game in security, to furnish our traders with peltries. I wish to see a large level road over that country, connecting our villages together, near which no one can conceal himself in order to kill passengers, and that our squaws may be enabled to visit from village to village in safety, and not be urged by fear, to cast off their packs, and betake themselves to the thickets, when they see any person on the route. Our nations have made peace frequently, but a peace has not hitherto been of long duration. I hope, however, that which we shall now establish will continue one day, two days, three days, four days, five days. My friends! what I have told you is true; I was not sent here to tell you lies. That is all I have to say."

Herochshe then lit his pipe, and presented the stem to the brother of the Crenier, Wa-sac-a-ru-ja, or He who eats raw, who had formerly been his intimate friend. The latter held the end of the stem in his hand, whilst he looked Herochshe full in the face, for a considerable space of time. At length he most emphatically asked, "Is all true that you have spoken." The other, striking himself repeatedly and forcibly upon the breast, answered with a loud voice, "Yes! It is all truth that I have spoken." Wasacaruja, without any further hesitation, accepted the proffered pipe, and smoked, whilst Herochshe courteously held the bowl of it in his hand; the latter warrior then held it in succession to each member of the council, who respectively took a whiff or two, after which the pipe itself was presented to Wasacaruja to retain.

It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the energy, and propriety, with which this speech was delivered, or of the dignity and self-possession of the speaker. Before he commenced, he hesitated and looked around upon his enemies, probably in order to trace in the lineaments of their countenances, the {38} expression of their feelings towards him. He then began his address, by raising his voice at once to its full intonation, producing a truly powerful effect upon the ear, by a contrast with the deep and long continued silence which preceded it. He was at no loss for subject or for words, but proceeded right onwards to the close of his speech, like a full-flowing, bold, and impetuous stream.

Wasacaruja, in consequence of having first accepted of the calumet, was now regarded as responsible for the sincerity of his friend Herochshe. He therefore arose, and thus addressed the ambassador. "My friend! I am glad to see you on such an occasion as the present, and to hear that your voice is for peace. But I can hardly believe that we can ever rest in a permanent peace. A few winters ago, when we were in friendship with each other, I visited your village, and you gave me all your people, saying, that all the Konzas were mine. But it was not long afterwards, as we hunted near your country, that you stole our horses and killed some of our people, and I cannot but believe that the same course will be again pursued. Nevertheless, I shall again repair to the same place, of which I have spoken, this autumn, for the purpose of hunting, and in the spring I will again visit your town. You observed that you were apprehensive of being killed as you approached our village; and you most probably would have been so, coming as you did, late in the evening, and without the usual formality of sending a messenger to apprize us of your approach, had you not been accompanied by the Big-knife with whom you are so well acquainted. But we have now smoked together, and I hope that the peace thus established, may long continue. You say that you are in want of mockasins, we will endeavour to give you one or two for your journey home. That is all I have to say."

Herochshe then apologized for his unceremonious {39} entrance into the village, by saying that he knew it to be customary, to send forward a runner on such an occasion, and he should have done so, but his friend, the Big-knife, whom he had previously consulted with that view, told him, that he had full confidence in the magnanimity of the Otoes.

Thus the ceremony was concluded, and peace restored between the two nations.

Numerous are the anecdotes already related by various authors, which go to show, that the desire of revenge for an injury or insult is remarkably permanent with the North American Indian. It would almost seem, that neither time nor circumstance can utterly eradicate it, and it is certain that it is not always extinguished with the life of the offended individual, but that it sometimes descends as an inheritance to his posterity.

A Puncaw warrior was killed in a quarrel, over the carcass of a bison, by a noted desperado of his own nation. The deceased left two sons, the elder of whom, in the course of a few years, became of sufficient age to hunt, and had the good fortune, in his first essay, to kill a fine bison. Whilst he was occupied in taking off the skin from his prey, he espied the murderer of his father approaching, who took his stand near the young hunter, and regarded him with a stern aspect. "Look up," said the intruder; the young man proceeded with his occupation. "I say, look at me;" reiterated the other, "do you know who I am? begone from this carcass, it is mine." The young hunter then raised his eyes to the countenance of him, whom he had long been taught to consider as his enemy, and fiercely retorted the dark malignant scowl which was concentrated there; then gathering his bow and arrows, he slowly retired a short distance, and turning, perceived that the warrior had already taken possession of his prize. "Yes," he exclaimed, bending his bow, "I do know you well; you are the murderer of my {40} father, and are the cause of my being an orphan." As he spoke, he discharged an arrow, which pierced the heart of his enemy, who fell dead; the victor, however, continued to feather his body with arrows, until his quiver was exhausted. He then returned to the village and related his story to the people, who rejoiced at the death of a common disturber of the peace, and no one was found who wished to revenge his death.

Vengeance is sometimes transferred from an immediate to a remote object. The Otoes being on one occasion encamped near Mr. Lisa's trading establishment, many of their number became intoxicated with whiskey, and troublesome to the traders. But in order that the latter might not receive personal injury, two warriors were appointed by the chiefs to stand guard at the door of the house, with orders to repel all drunken individuals. Having consumed all the whiskey that had been given them, they clamorously demanded more, but the trader persisted in refusing it to them. Incensed at this denial, the grand chief Shongatonga, who was himself slightly intoxicated, went into the house, and meeting one of the traders near the door, he gave him a slight push with his hand, unobserved by Hashea, the Cut-nose, who was then on guard. The act, however, was perceived by an Indian who reclined against an outhouse, at a little distance, smoking his pipe. He advanced, apparently with perfect indifference, and taking up a keg, the only weapon which presented, he approached Shongatonga, and discharged it with all his strength, full upon the head of that chief, who was knocked down senseless by the violence of the blow.

The Little Soldier, a brother-in-law of Shongatonga, who was present at this assault, immediately seized his tomahawk, and making a threat, rushed out of the house, his silver armbands and other ornaments, with which he is usually profusely decorated, {41} sounding as he passed; he halted for an instant at the door, in order to distinguish some object on which to wreak his vengeance; espying amongst the crowd of Otoes, one from whom he had received an injury fifteen years before, which deprived him of the sight of one eye, he pursued him, and with a blow of his tomahawk brought him to the ground; this unfortunate individual, like his victor, had also lost an eye, and in this rencontre the remaining one was destroyed.

Hashea, the guard, observing that the Indians were becoming very disorderly, drew his knife, declaring that he would kill the first individual of them he could meet with, and pursuing the canaille, they fled in every direction. During this interval an inferior Indian entered the store, and pointing with his finger near to the face of Mr. Lisa, said in a threatening tone, "You are the cause of all this disturbance;" the latter immediately kicked him out of the house; on which the Indian in a rage, declared he would revenge himself for an injury so gross. Seeking some object to destroy, he encountered a sow and pigs, and appeased his rage by putting them all to death. The Little Soldier now returned, and found that his relative had recovered. Order was at length restored by the mediation of Mr. Dougherty.

But instances are not rare, in which an Indian is unwilling to punish an injury inflicted on himself, even when retaliation is amply in his power. As the troops were ascending the river, as usual, by the aid of the cordelle, several Oto Indians were sitting on the river bank at the establishment of the Missouri fur company, quietly smoking their pipes, and apparently much interested in the movements before them. One of them was accosted by a soldier, who had left his cordelle for the purpose, with an offer to purchase the pipe he was then using; but the Indian would not part with it, saying, he had no other to bear him company in his hunting excursions. {42} The soldier requested permission to examine it, but as soon as the Indian put the pipe into his hands, he twisted the bowl from the handle and ran off with it. The Indian in company with one of the traders, immediately pursued the thief to his boat, and demanded the pipe; but obtaining no satisfaction, he came to Engineer Cantonment, and stated the circumstance to Major O'Fallon, who assured him that his influence should not be wanting to procure the pipe again, and to have the offender punished by a very severe whipping. The Indian, however, with more mercy than justice, replied, that he would extremely regret the infliction of any punishment whatever upon the soldier, and he desired it might not be done; all he wished for was the recovery of his property.

The Omawhaws consider themselves superior, in the scale of beings, to all other animals, and appear to regard them as having been formed for their benefit. They will sometimes say, when speaking of a bad person, "he is no better than a brute." It is true that a magician tells his auditors that "a grizzly bear whispered in my ear, and gave me this medicine:" but his meaning is that the Wahconda, in the shape of that animal, had communicated with him.

Neither do they seem to suppose that the inferior animals accompany them to the other world, though they expect to pursue their occupation of hunting there.

In their opinion, the Wahconda has been more profuse in his distribution of gifts to the white people, than to the red-skins; particularly in imparting to us the knowledge of letters, whereby the result of experience is so readily transmitted from one person to another, so as to seem like the operation of some great mystic medicine.

But they claim a superiority in natural intelligence, and readily perceive that they are more {43} active, have a greater capacity for undergoing, with fortitude, the many evils to which they are subject in every situation and season, such as exposure to great heat and cold, hunger, thirst, and pain. They appear to esteem themselves more brave, more generous and hospitable to strangers than the white people; and these beneficent virtues with them, like the mental operations of faith, hope, and charity of the Christians, mark the perfect man.

They regard the white people, as very deficient in one of these cardinal virtues. They have been told by Indians, who have visited our settlements, that on entering the lodge of a white man, they will be informed that he has eaten his dinner, he will not, at least, set any food before them, and if they remain in the house, nothing is offered them until night, and even then, probably, but a stinted portion. The meanness of such demeanour they despise.

If a white man, or any stranger, enters the habitation of an Indian, he is not asked if he has dined, or if he is hungry, but independently of the time of the day or night, the pot is put upon the fire, and if there is but a single pound of meat in the possession of the family, that pound is cooked and set before him, and even if he has but just arisen from a feast, he must taste of the food, or offence is given. History has recorded, with high commendation, the name of a dethroned Christian monarch, who shared his last loaf of bread with a suppliant stranger; and surely a similar act in the Indian, although it be influenced by education and custom, is entitled to respect and applause.

They look upon the traffic in the necessaries of life, such as meat and maize, amongst the individuals of a nation, as contemptible. Such commerce they consider as a very unfavourable trait in the character of the white man; they, however, avail themselves of it in their dealings with him, provided he wants a considerable supply of those necessaries.

{44} The food which is set before a guest, is, in every respect, considered as exclusively his own; he may give it to whom he may think proper, either within or without the lodge; he may even take it with him to his own lodgings, but the including vessel, must, in either case, be returned.

Much more food is usually served up to a guest than he can possibly eat, and when he has satisfied his hunger, if he return the remainder to the host, the latter thanks him for it, as if he had received a favour.

So exemplary is their hospitality, that every stranger, even an enemy, is protected in the habitation of an Omawhaw, as far as the power and influence of the owner extends; he is immediately invited to sit down, and no questions are put to him. The master of the house is evidently ill at ease, until the food is prepared for eating, he will request his squaws to expedite it, and will even stir the fire himself. When the guest has finished his meal, the pipe is handed to him to smoke, after which the conversation begins either vocally or by signs. As soon as it is known that a stranger is in the village, he is invited to various feasts, at each of which he must reciprocate the politeness of the host, by partaking of his fare; the stranger is not unfrequently followed from lodge to lodge by several persons, who wish to secure him as a guest in their turn.

In the kindest spirit of hospitality, they are always careful to treat their guests in the manner which they suppose will be most agreeable to them. A trader was invited to a feast, and the food being prepared, a squaw who was about to serve it up, in order to clean a bowl to contain it, began to scoop it with her curved finger. Her husband observing this usual mode of depuration, reprimanded her, saying, "I have told you that the white people do not like to see bowls cleaned in that manner, give me the vessel, and I will show you how they clean {45} them." He then drew out one corner of his breech-clout, and substituted it for a towel, wiped the bowl thoroughly, and returned it to the squaw. The trader, as in duty bound, tasted of the contents, but he would have preferred the agency of the finger of the squaw, to that of the old breech-clout of the husband.

An unknown stranger is led to the lodge of the principal chief, where the inhabitants collect to see him, and do not hesitate to gratify their curiosity, by looking steadfastly in his face. The stranger, if an Indian, appears perfectly at his ease, not seeming to notice the crowd that surrounds him, in order that he may not encounter their eyes. After he has eaten and smoked, he delivers his message, states his business, or tells the news. If he is seated in a small skin lodge, which contains but few persons, one of these will repeat his words aloud, that the crowd without may hear.

They are pleased with the society of the Canadian French, but they do not appear to respect them highly, because they permit too much familiarity, and are not forward in revenging an insult. The Spaniards, probably from the representations of the Pawnees, who war against them, are held in but little esteem. But it is readily perceivable, as well from their own deportment as from the representations of the French, that they respect the character of the Americans (citizens of the United States) above that of any other nation, because, they are pleased to say, we are the bravest of the white people. Previously to the late war between the United States and Great Britain, the British are said to have been deemed most valorous. But, say they, the Ioways have informed us, that, at the commencement of the war, the British promised to give the Indians who took part with them in the contest, all the territory that lies westward of a great river, (the Ohio,) over which they declared they would drive {46} the Americans. Their subsequent inability to comply with this promise, together with an indistinct idea of some of the conflicts, both by land and water, on our Canadian frontier, lead them to suppose that the Americans conquered in that war, and that they are now the most powerful of the nations of the earth.

Like the ancients the Indians have no rhymes in their poetry. They imitate the sounds of the voice of various animals, and of some, with so much success, as to deceive even such persons as are familiar with the animals thus imitated. This mimicry extends to the voices of the bear, bison, deer, wolves, prairie dog, turkey, owl, &c. together with those of some smaller birds, the notes of which are simple. But in these imitations we knew of no individual, whose art enabled him to execute so great a variety of notes, and with so much melody, as we have heard from civilized performers, who have publicly exhibited their talents in this way, in our cities.

An Indian at his temporary night encampment, hearing the unexpected cry of an owl, wolf, &c., is generally suspicious of its proceeding from a human enemy, who is thus endeavouring to lull him into fancied security; such sounds being often made by war parties, on their nocturnal approach to their victims, to induce a belief that the animals around them are undisturbed.

They also imitate the motions of different animals, playfully, sometimes grotesquely, in their dances.

{47} CHAPTER V {III}

Tribes and Bands—Fabulous Legends—Wit—Ninnegahe, or Mixed Tobacco—Dances—Otoes—Migrations—Language.

THE Omawhaw nation is divided into two principal sections or tribes, which are distinguished by the names Honga-sha-no and Ish-ta-sun-da; the latter means Grey Eyes.

The first-mentioned tribe is subdivided into eight bands, viz.

1. _Wase-ish-ta._—This band is interdicted from eating the flesh of male deer or male elk, in consequence of having their great medicine, which is a large shell, enveloped in the prepared skin of those animals. The chief of this band is the Big Elk, Ongpatungah; and it is more powerful and numerous in individuals than either of the others.

The shell, which is regarded as an object of great sanctity and superstitious reverence, by the whole nation, has been transmitted from the ancestry of this band, and its origin is unknown. A skin lodge or temple is appropriated for its preservation, in which a person constantly resides, charged with the care of it, and appointed its guard. It is placed upon a stand, and is never suffered to touch the earth. It is concealed from the sight by several envelops, which are composed of strands of the proper skins, plaited and joined together in the form of a mat. The whole constitutes a parcel of considerable size, from which various articles are suspended, such as tobacco and roots of certain plants.

No person dares to open all the coverings of this sacred deposit, in order to expose the shell to view. {48} Tradition informs them, that curiosity induced three different persons to examine the mysterious shell, who were immediately punished for their profanation, by instant and total loss of sight. The last of these offenders, whose name is Ish-ka-tappe, is still living. It was ten years since that he attempted to unveil the sacred shell, but, like his predecessors, he was visited by blindness, which still continues, and is attributed by the Indians, as well as by himself, to his committing of the forbidden act.

This shell is taken with the band to all the national hunts, and is transported by means of a hoppas on the back of a man.

Previously to undertaking a national expedition against an enemy, the sacred shell is consulted as an oracle. For this purpose, the magi of the band seat themselves around the great medicine lodge, the lower part of which is then thrown up like curtains, and the exterior envelop is carefully removed from the mysterious parcel, that the shell may receive air. A portion of the tobacco, consecrated by being long suspended to the skin mats, or coverings of the shell, is now taken and distributed to the magi, who fill their pipes with it, to smoke to the great medicine. During this ceremony, an individual occasionally inclines his head forward, and listens attentively to catch some sound which he expects to issue from the shell. At length some one imagines that he hears a sound like that of a forced expiration of air from the lungs, or like the noise made by the report of a gun at a great distance. This is considered as a favourable omen, and the nation prepare for the projected expedition with a confidence of success. But, on the contrary, should no sound be perceived, the issue of the expedition would be considered doubtful.

2. _Enk-ka-sa-ba._—This band will not eat red maize. They ascribe to their family the greatest antiquity, and declare that their first man emerged {49} from the water, with an ear of red maize in his hand. The principal chief is Ishkatappe.

3. _Wa-sa-ba-eta-je_; or, those who do not touch bears.—This band refrains from eating the flesh of bears.

4. _Ka-e-ta-je_, or those who do not touch turtles or tortoises.

5. _Wa-jinga-e-ta-je_, or those who do not touch any kind of bird, excepting the war-eagle.

6. _Hun-guh._—This band does not eat white cranes, as the down of that bird is their medicine.

7. _Kon-za._—This band must not touch the green clay, or even verdigrise, both of which are used as pigments by the other bands, for ornamenting their persons.

8. _Ta-pa-taj-je._—This band must not touch deers' heads, neither must they wear deer-skin mockasins. Many of the individuals of this band are partially gray haired. This change of the hair, which they consider as a deformity, is attributed to a violation of the abovementioned laws prescribed by their medicine.

The second division, or tribe _Ishtasunda_, is subdivided into five bands.

1. _Ta-pa-eta-je._—This band does not touch bison heads.

2. _Mon-eka-goh-ha_, or the earth-makers.—Of this band was the celebrated Black Bird. They are not forbidden the use of any aliment; and are said to have originated the present mode of mourning, by rubbing the body with whitish clay.

3. _Ta-sin-da_, or the bison tail.—This band does not eat bison calves, in the first year of the age of that animal.

4. _Ing-gera-je-da_, or the red dung.—This name is said to have originated from the circumstance of this band having formerly quarrelled, and separated themselves from the nation, until, being nearly {50} starved, they were compelled to eat the fruit of the wild cherry-tree, until their excrement became red.

5. _Wash-a-tung._—This band must not touch any of the reptilia class of animals.

Each of these animals, or parts of animals, which the bands respectively are forbidden to touch or eat, is regarded as the particular mysterious medicine of the band collectively, to which it relates.

This singular, and, to us, absurd law, of interdiction, is generally rigidly observed; and a violation of it, they firmly believe, will be followed by some signal judgment, such as blindness, gray hairs, or general misfortune. Even should the forbidden food be eaten inadvertently, or but tasted through ignorance, sickness they believe would be the inevitable consequence, not only to the unfortunate individual himself, but involving his wife and children also.

The name of one of the bands of the Puncaw nation is _Wa-jaja_, corresponding to the name which the Osages acknowledge, which is _Waw-sash-e_.

We have before observed, that they take great pleasure in relating and hearing the narration of fabulous legends. The following specimen will serve to exemplify their taste in this way.

A bison bull, an ant, and a tortoise, agreed to undertake a joint war excursion, against the village of a neighbouring nation. As the latter associate was a slow walker, it was mutually decided in council, that he should set out on the journey immediately, to be followed in a short time by his more active companions. The tortoise accordingly departed alone, making his way through the grass, with as much rapidity as possible. After a proper interval had elapsed, the bull also set out; and lest he should lose his fellow traveller, he consented to take him on his back. On their way the two champions were obliged to cross a miry place, in the midst of which they overtook the tortoise, struggling onward with {51} the utmost labour, and apparently almost exhausted. They did not fail, as they passed gaily by the sluggish reptile, to express their surprise at his unusually tardy movements, and at the circumstance of his being apparently almost subdued by the first obstacle that presented itself. The tortoise, however, not at all discouraged, requested them to continue their journey, and expressed his confident expectation of being able to extricate himself from the mire, without the aid which they did not seem forward in offering to him. The two companions arrived at the village of the enemy, and were so incautious in their approaches to it, as to be discovered by the inhabitants, who sallied out upon them, and succeeded in wounding them both. The tortoise at length reached the village, and was also discovered, but had the additional misfortune of being taken prisoner.

To punish him for his presumption, the enemy resolved to put him to death in such a manner as would be most painful to him. They accordingly threatened him successively with a number of different forms of torture, such as baking in hot embers, boiling, &c., with each of which the captive artfully expressed his entire satisfaction. They finally proposed to drown him; and this mode of punishment being so earnestly protested against by the tortoise, they determined to carry it into immediate execution.

With this view, several of the enemy carried him out into a deep part of the river, and threw him in.

The tortoise, thus released, and, through the ignorance of the captors in the art of torturing, abandoned to an element in which he could act freely and with much power, dived down from their view, and rising again, dragged two or three of them under water successively, and scalped them. Then rising above the surface of the water, he exhibited the scalps triumphantly to the enemy, who stood in {52} crowds upon the bank of the river, unable to injure him. Content with his fortunate achievement, the tortoise now journeyed homeward; and on arriving at his lodge, he found there the bull and ant, both in bed, groaning piteously with their wounds.

Upon the reality of such stories, many of the auditors seem to rely with implicit faith, particularly as their occurrence is referred to the chronology of former times, by such a prefatory notice as "once upon a time." The narrator proceeds with a degree of gravity of feature suitable to the nature of the events of his story; and notes a variety of little circumstances in detail, which contribute much to give the whole an air of truth to his auditors, who listen with an undivided attention, uttering occasionally an interjection, as their feelings are excited.

That the inferior animals did, in ancient times, march to battle with simultaneous regularity, that they conversed intelligibly, and performed all the different actions of men, many of them appear to admit, with as much faith as many equally absurd doctrines are believed in Christendom. But these qualities are supposed to be no longer inherent; and if an animal should now speak with the voice of man, it is either the effect of the immediate inspiration of the Wahconda, or the apparent animal is no other than the Wahconda himself incarnate.

The Indians sometimes indulge in pleasantry in their conversation; and Shaumonekusse seemed to be eminently witty—a quality strongly indicated by his well-marked features of countenance. Their wit, however, is generally obscene, particularly when in conversation with the squaws.

Washingguhsahba, conversing familiarly with a Frenchman, who had long resided in the Omawhaw village, observed that the white people, being in the habit of reading books with the desire of acquiring knowledge, probably knew the cause of the difference of colour which exists between themselves and {53} the Indian; he therefore requested information from the Frenchman on this subject. The latter, assuming an air of great gravity, assured him that the cause was very well known, and was no other than that the Indian was formed of red horse-dung. The chief, with every appearance of candour, which, however, he did not feel, instantly placed his hand on the arm of his companion, and replied that this observation was a convincing proof of the great knowledge of the white people, and that they were perfectly familiar with the early operations of the Master of Life. He had no doubt, he said, that they were equally well informed as to the matter out of which they were themselves formed; but if he, a poor ignorant Indian, with no knowledge but his own, might venture to give his opinion, he would say, that they were formed of the excrement of the dog, baked white in the prairie.

They sometimes employ an indirect method of communicating information, and of explaining some particular acts of their own, which may have been erroneously construed by others.

Several Omawhaws, accompanied by a Frenchman, one day passed our cantonment, on their way to the trading house, with a considerable quantity of jerked meat. On their return they visited us; when one of them, who amused himself by turning over the leaves of a book in search of pictures, being asked by a squaw, in a jocular manner, what the book said, replied, "It tells me, that when we were taking our meat to the trading house, we wished to present some of it to white people on the way, but that the Frenchman would not permit us to do so." This remark explained the reason of their having offered us no meat.

An Indian, observing that one of our men, when cutting wood, uttered the interjection _hah!_ at each blow with the axe, smiled; and asked if it assisted him, or added force to the blow.

{54} The Kinnecanick, or, as the Omawhaws call it, _Ninnegahe_, mixed or made tobacco, which they use for smoking in their pipes, is composed partly of tobacco, and partly of the leaves of the sumack (rhus glabrum); but many prefer to the latter ingredient, the inner bark of the red willow (cornus sericea); and when neither of the two latter can be obtained, the inner bark of the arrow wood (viburnum) is substituted for them. These two ingredients are well dried over the fire, and comminuted together by friction between the hands.

Their pipes are neatly made of the red indurated clay, which they procure from the red pipestone branch of the Sioux river.[26] The mass is readily cut with a common knife.

[26] The pipestone quarry is in Pipestone County, Minnesota, on Pipestone Creek, a branch of the Big Sioux. See J. Long's _Voyages_, in our volume ii, note 43.—ED.

They frequently eject the smoke through the nostrils, and often inhale it into the lungs, from which it is gradually ejected again as they converse, or in expiration.

An Omawhaw, after an eructation of wind from the stomach, is often heard to say, "_How-wa-ne-ta_," thank you, animal; which they explain by saying, that some animal has presented itself to the hunter. The exclamation, however, has but an obscure meaning, and may be compared as somewhat similar to the "God bless you" of the French, after the convulsion of sneezing.

They indulge much in the pleasures of dancing, and their dances are of various denominations; of which the following may be particularized.

The calumet dance, _nin-ne-ba-wa-wong_, is a very favourite dance. It is usually performed by two individuals, in honour, and in the presence, of some one of their own or of a neighbouring nation, with the expectation of receiving presents in return. A person who intends to perform this dance sends a messenger, bearing a small skin containing tobacco to fill a pipe, to the individual whom he intends to honour. If the proposed compliment should not be {55} acceptable, it is refused in the most courteous manner, with excuses based upon poverty, and with many thanks for the honour intended. If, on the contrary, the tobacco should be accepted and smoked, the act shows that the visit also will be acceptable; and a time is fixed for the performance of the ceremony. At the appointed time, the dancers, with two selected companions, repair to the place of their destination, and are invited into the lodge of the person whom they addressed. After a short time, the calumet is placed upon a forked support, which is driven into the soil in the back part of the lodge. Notice is then given to the bearer of the calumet respecting the time when it will be convenient for the dance to take place. The bearer of the calumet is now considered as the _father_, and addresses the individual whom he is about to honour by the title of _son_, presenting him with some valuable articles; such as a gun, kettle, blankets, and clothing and ornaments for his youngest child, who is destined to represent the father, or the adopted son, at the ensuing ceremony.

At sunset the calumet is taken from the forked stick, or support, enveloped like an infant in swaddling clothes, and placed carefully in a bed, prepared for its reception; a lullaby is then sung, accompanied by the music of the rattle, for its quiet repose. On the following morning it is _awakened_ by a song, with the same music, and again consigned to its forked support. The appointed day having arrived, a space of sufficient diameter, is enclosed by a skreen of skins for the dance, and a post is fixed in the earth, near the entrance to the area. Around this area the principal men of the nation seat themselves; the adopted son leads in his youthful representative; and the two dancers, decorated with paint, and entirely destitute of clothing, with the exception of the breech-cloth, commence the dance. They are each provided with a decorated calumet stem, and a rattle {56} of dried skin, or a gourd, containing pebbles, with which to keep time to the music of the gong, and to the vocal chanting of the musicians of the village. They dance in the ordinary manner of the Indians, and pass backwards and forwards between the entrance and back part of the area, endeavouring to exhibit as much agility as possible in their movements, throwing themselves into a great variety of attitudes imitative of the actions of the war eagle, preserving at the same time a constant waving motion with the calumet in the left hand, and agitating the gourd in the right, more or less vehemently, agreeably to the music.

Warriors and braves will now bring forward presents of horses, guns, &c. The bridle of the horse is attached to the post, by the donor, who receives the thanks of an old crier, stationed there to perform that duty. The music now ceases, whilst the donor _strikes the post_, and recounts his martial deeds, and boasts of the presents which he has made at different times on similar occasions. Sometimes during the ceremony, a warrior will take the gong from the performer, and strike upon it as many times as he has achieved brave and generous actions; he then sets it down, and no one must dare to touch it, but such as can strike upon it more frequently than the first; if this is done, the gong is returned to the performer.

The calumet dance sometimes continues two or three days; but each night the calumet is consigned to its repose in the bed, with the same ceremonies as those of the first night.

When all the presents have been made which the dancers have reason to expect, they depart immediately with them to their own nation or lodge.

Instead of striking the post, the donors sometimes strike lightly upon the persons of the dancers themselves.

The presents sometimes made at these dances are very considerable. Ongpatunga once danced the {57} calumet to Tarrarecawaho, the grand Pawnee chief, and received from him between eighty and ninety horses. The Pawnees are indeed distinguished both for their liberality and dexterity at this ceremony. They gave one hundred and forty horses last autumn to the Otoes, who performed this dance at their village. A party of Pawnees once danced at the Omawhaw village, and gave so much satisfaction to many individuals of this nation, as to receive extraordinary presents from them. On this occasion, one person, in the warmth of his feelings, brought forth his child, and presented it to them, as the most precious gift in his power to bestow. The Pawnees accepted this gift; but on their departure, they returned the child to its parent, accompanied by the present of a fine horse, upon which it was mounted.

The dance of discovering the enemy.—This dance is sometimes performed in honour of strangers; at other times, chiefs are invited by the warriors, who wish to exhibit their generosity in presenting them with horses, and to detail their own warlike feats in the ceremony of striking the post. The chiefs, on this occasion, seat themselves in a circle, on the outside of which the warriors are also seated in a ring or circle, concentric with that of the chiefs.

These arrangements being completed, the music strikes up, and a warrior advances, who takes a war-club and _crow_, provided for the purpose; the latter of which he belts around his waist. He then dances with a slow, shuffling motion, around the exterior circle, exhibiting at the same time a pantomimic representation of his combats with the enemy.

By and by the music beats a quicker time, and calls for corresponding movements on the part of the dancer, until at length both cease simultaneously. The warrior then advances to the post, which he strikes with his club, and proceeds to detail one of his deeds of war. This done, the music recalls him {58} to the dance, and after a short time again ceases, that he may continue his chivalric history.

This alternate dance and recitation continues until the tale of the warrior is told; when he resigns his crow and war-club to another, who continues the amusement in like manner. Most of the dancers present horses to the chiefs, after the performing of their respective parts; and it is generally the case, that each chief invited is rewarded with one of those animals in return for the honour of his attendance.

The bear dance, _Mot-chu-wat-che_.—This is a _medicine_ dance, not distinguished by any very remarkable traits. The dancers, however, imitate the motions of the bear; and songs, in which there are many words, are sung.

The beggar dance.—This has been already described in our account of the visit of the Otoes, at our cantonment last autumn. This is probably the dance mentioned by Carver, in page 158. of his work; the performance of which, on his landing near Lake Pepin, by a party of Chippeways, was the cause of much alarm to his party.[27]

[27] For sketch of Jonathan Carver, see J. Long's _Voyages_, in our