Chapter VII

NO ADOPTION

George Rogers Clark’s sudden appearance in the French settlements with his army threw the Indians camping there into a panic. They thought the army larger than it was and expected to be attacked momentarily. Some tribes asked their French friends in Kaskaskia and Cahokia what they should do.

The French, who were now firm friends of the Long-Knives, advised them to call upon Clark and sue for peace. Then these same Frenchmen reported to Clark that the Indians had come to them for advice.

Colonel Clark was quick to take advantage of the Indians’ confusion. He prepared a letter to be sent to the tribes, telling them to lay down their tomahawks and ally themselves with him, or to fight like men for the English. Jim Hudson made several copies of this letter, which Clark sent by him and other messengers to the different tribes.

The Kickapoos and Piankeshaws signed treaties immediately with the Long-Knives. Other tribes, however——the Chippewas, Ottawas, Potawatomis, Sacs and Foxes——came into Cahokia and demanded a council with Clark. They wanted to see the chief Long-Knife and to hear what he had to say.

Colonel Clark sent word to them that he would attend their council, but he took his time about going to Cahokia to meet with them. He thought it would be well for the Indians to wait on him. After a while he took Jim Hudson, some of his officers and many of his soldiers to Cahokia, which had sworn allegiance to him through Captain Bowman.

Clark’s new headquarters were in a house beside the Cahokia River. In a few days a band of Winnebagos, often called Stinkers by the French, pitched camp in a Frenchman’s yard, just across the road from Clark’s headquarters.

When Jim Hudson saw the Indians he was frightened and said to Colonel Clark, “I don’t think those Stinkers should camp so near you, sir. They might attack us. We don’t have many soldiers here.”

The colonel’s eyes twinkled. “How right you are, Jim. I think they have something like that in mind. Perhaps they want to kidnap me so I can’t appear at the council.”

Jim shivered. “Oh, sir! Can’t you recall some of the men you have stationed around the town?”

“Jim, you have the mark of a military man,” Colonel Clark replied. “That’s what I intend to do, but I don’t want these Stinkers to know about my reinforcements. You go to my captains now and tell them to send several guard details to my headquarters as soon as it is dark. Tell them to come in one by one at the rear.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied, glad to have an errand and to know they were to have more soldiers at headquarters. He dashed out to find Captain Helm and Simon Kenton.

That evening fifty guards began filtering into headquarters, some to conceal themselves in the house, others to stand in the darkness outside. Although Clark walked alone about the yard, nothing happened.

The next night the guards again took up their same stations. Colonel Clark stayed up late, supposedly working on reports.

Jim couldn’t sleep, so he went to the window and stared out into the night. About one o’clock shots were fired across the river. In a few minutes Jim saw some skulking figures in the headquarters yard. He wanted to scream, but Clark himself gave the alarm.

Immediately the guards appeared from all sides of the building. They succeeded in capturing three of the Stinkers and hustled them into headquarters. The shots and ensuing racket awakened the town; some of the citizens hurried to headquarters to see what was the matter.

To Jim’s great surprise, the colonel asked these Frenchmen what punishment they thought these Stinkers deserved. In one voice they said these Indians should be put in irons. Then and there, Clark made this an order. Thus he maneuvered so that the French suggested the punishment for the Indians.

The next morning Colonel Clark went to the great Indian council, accompanied by some of his officers and townsmen. At the last minute he told Jim he might go. He also had the three Stinkers brought to the council in chains. How ridiculous they looked clanking along beside the officers.

Jim was amazed at the number of Indians awaiting Colonel Clark’s arrival. Jim looked over the crowd to see if he could see Chief Minnemung or any of his Potawatomis. If they were there he could not locate them in the vast throng.

He glanced at his colonel, wondering if he were not frightened among so many Indians. But Clark looked as if he were master of the entire council. Fear was not a part of George Rogers Clark’s character; and since the Indians had asked him to come to the council, he waited for them to speak.

After a few minutes a tall, erect, haughty chief, dressed in a handsome buffalo robe, came forward to stand directly in front of Colonel Clark. “Chief Long-Knife,” he began, “we hope the Great Spirit has brought us together for good and that we may be received as friends. The bad bird British ordered us to attack your countrymen.”

He turned and motioned for one of his tribesmen to bring something to him. When the Indian brought him a bloody belt, some red wampum and two British flags, the chief threw them to the floor and stomped upon them.

“We have received these emblems of war from the bad bird British and now we hope peace with you will take the place of the bloody belt of war.” Then the chief walked back to his people. Other chiefs came up asking for peace. Even the Winnebagos came up and offered the peace pipe to Colonel Clark.

He waved them away, however, because he knew it was best to keep the Winnebagos in suspense for a while about the fate of their Stinker relatives still in chains. Then he told all chiefs who had made speeches that he would consider their offer and give them an answer the next day. He left the council with his staff, and all the townspeople and Jim.

The next morning after the council fires were kindled anew, George Rogers Clark gave his answer to the waiting Indians. He told them why the Long-Knives were at war with the British, and that the British had become so weak they were forced to hire Indians to fight for them. He also told them the French king, father of all their French friends, had also joined the Long-Knives against the British.

Finally he said, “Now you can judge who is right, the Long-Knives or the British. Here is the bloody belt of war, here the white belt of peace. Take the one you please. Behave like men though, and choose the one you wish.

“I do not want you to give me an answer until you have time to counsel. We will part, and when you are ready, if the Great Spirit will bring us together again, let us prove ourselves worthy by speaking and thinking with one heart and one tongue.” Then Colonel Clark and his group left the council, not returning until the Indians sent for him.

They had assembled with their peace pipes, and many chiefs made flowery speeches about their intended friendship with the Long-Knives. Later they smoked their peace pipes and offered them to Clark, who went through the pipe-smoking ceremony with them.

Jim Hudson knew Indians did not always keep their word; how he hoped Colonel Clark knew it, too.

These council meetings went on for days until Jim grew weary of attending them. One morning, however, he was surprised to see two stalwart young Winnebagos present themselves in front of Colonel Clark, then fall to the ground and cover themselves with a blanket.

Jim did not know what to make of this and looked questioningly at the colonel. George Rogers Clark’s face did not change expression as he waited to see what would happen next.

One of the Winnebago chiefs stepped forward; he explained that these two young men were offering themselves as a sacrifice to atone for what their Winnebago relatives had done at Clark’s headquarters.

Colonel Clark did not reply at once, but kept staring at the blanket covering the two men. Jim and the rest waited anxiously, expecting the colonel to order the Winnebagos killed immediately, or at least to be cast into irons.

To everyone’s amazement, Colonel Clark rose and ordered the two Indians to stand. Then he took each of them by the hand as brothers and introduced them to his officers and the Frenchmen sitting with his group. A loud murmur of approval arose from the surprised Indians. Still more surprising to Jim was Clark’s order to free the Stinkers who had tried to kidnap him.

All during these meetings Jim had looked in vain for the Potawatomis with whom he had spent the winter; he wondered if they had ever arrived in Cahokia. The day after Clark had freed the Stinkers, Jim discovered Chief Minnemung and his clan sitting near the front of the assembly. For a moment he was afraid—would these Potawatomis try to capture him again? Then he glanced at Colonel Clark and realized he was safe where he was.

At this council meeting Big Gate, one of the great Potawatomi chiefs, spoke for the entire tribe, saying they were ready to sign a peace treaty with the Long-Knives. When the treaty was signed, Colonel Clark and his staff rose to leave. Suddenly Chief Minnemung barred his path.

“Big Long-Knife, chief of all the Long-Knives,” Minnemung began, nodding toward Jim, “this boy ran away from our clan. I planned to adopt him as my own son.”

Jim began to tremble when Colonel Clark turned to him, all the while pretending he had never known of Minnemung’s plan. “Jim,” he said sternly, “is this true?”

“Yes, sir,” Jim stammered, “but I didn’t want——”

Chief Minnemung gestured impatiently, as he interrupted Jim. “Big Long-Knife, I say Chief Minnemung no longer wants to adopt this boy. He not make good Potawatomi. He is Jim Long-Knife. Chief Minnemung is no longer interested in him. He now belongs to Big Long-Knife Clark.”

Jim sighed in relief as Clark said gravely, “So be it, Chief Minnemung. I accept this boy as Jim Long-Knife.” He extended his hand to the Potawatomi chief to seal their bargain.

Chief Minnemung shook hands with Clark without glancing at Jim. Then he walked proudly to his clan.

George Rogers Clark could be stern no longer. As he looked at Jim for a moment, his hazel eyes twinkled in fun. “I guess this makes you safe, Jim. You are now under my control and a real Long-Knife. Chief Minnemung has decreed it. Jim Long-Knife. That’s a fine name for you.”

Jim smiled. “Oh, sir, thank you. I’m so glad Chief Minnemung doesn’t want me. I saw him sitting with the other Indians today, and I was afraid he might have his men take me prisoner again sometime.”