Part 8
"Mad Buffalo never lies; he has a prisoner"; and with that, he went out of the Council Wigwam and brought in a woman. He motioned her to lift the veil that covered her face. The wild men of the forest gazed entranced. She had a skin white as snow, and cheeks, red, but not with paint, like the Indian's. More beautiful than the flowers, than the sun, moon or clouds, was the maiden. The Mad Buffalo claimed her as his own, telling how he had saved her and carried her in his arms.
The relatives of the dead men cried out for blood. Chenos forbade the sacrifice, saying that perhaps she had come from the Great Spirit. Then the wicked ones left the place and sought the aid of a bad man named Sketupah. Sketupah said the beautiful woman must be sacrificed; he directed that certain religious rites be performed, with a wolf, a tortoise and a rattlesnake.
A large ball rolled up the hill and unwound itself. A queer little old man with green eyes, stepped out. The ball was made from his own hair, which was the color of moss, and so long that when blown around by the wind, it seemed like the tail of a star. The little old man, who was the Evil Spirit, commanded them to bring forth the beautiful woman and tie her to a stake. They did so, and piled sticks around her feet. As the flames arose, the Mad Buffalo, giving his war-cry, ran forward against the Evil Spirit. A breath from the powerful one, and he lay stricken with death. Chenos called on the Master of Life for help. The Ruler of All came, his eyes visible from afar, shining like two great stars. The evil one grew small, and his power failed when the Great Spirit advanced. The beautiful woman was spared and the Master of Life said:
"Men of the Shawnee nation, the pale-faced people from over the Great Salt Lake are your brothers."
He told them that he had made all races; that the Indian was red because fear never entered his breast; that the heart of the white man was so chilled that the blood was scared from his cheeks; that the Shawnee had been brought from the land of the pale-face, long ago, but had lost his paleness. Then he said:
"Rake the ashes of the sacrificial fire; and when the Star of the Evening rises, put in the body of Mad Buffalo and cover it over with wood; keep the fire burning for two whole moons; bring out the beautiful woman and place her near the ashes. This is the will of the Great Spirit."
The people obeyed these commands, and when the time had been fulfilled, there was a disturbance in the ashes, and a man, tall, strong and perfect, came forth. He walked up to the maiden and looked into her eyes. Chenos gave her to him as a wife; and from them were the Piquas descended.
A Shawnee religious belief, the doctrine of a pre-natal existence, bears some resemblance to that of the Buddhists, and reminds one of the fact that all nations have a common ancestor in the Aryan race. The following incident, related by an Indian agent, proves the implicit faith reposed in this particular belief.
When the United States Government removed the tribe to Kansas, the Pawnees waged incessant war against the new arrivals. Many times, ere the country became their home, had war parties of the Shawnees traversed the rolling prairie, passed out upon the plains, battled with the wild Indians of the West, and returned, sometimes laden with booty, to their reservation east of the Mississippi.
The red man never forgets what he considers an indignity. The spirit of revenge is always an incentive to action; hence, the recent comers were under the necessity of keeping themselves in readiness for an encounter at any moment. Rumors of an attack by the enemy floated into the settlements, and the head chief marshaled out his men to check the advancing warriors. After a ride of one hundred miles to the northwest, the scouts, far to the front, espied in the distance, what appeared to be a great number of small black objects, outlined against the sky. A nearer view disclosed the fact that the Pawnees were approaching. Information was carried to the main body.
Both parties called a halt. Then, the war-chief of the Shawnees, accompanied by an aide, rode forward, signifying that he desired a conference. He was met in the open space between the lines, by an opponent, a fierce-looking Indian, and by his side a brave of unusual size and strength. Contrary to custom, it was agreed, after a parley, that two of the most skillful warriors should meet upon the prairie, in the presence of both sides, and decide the battle by a hand-to-hand conflict.
Returning to their men, the chiefs called for volunteers. A quick response, and the chosen ones rode to the central ground, dismounted, and consigned their ponies to the waiting assistants, to be led back to the lines. There was a moment of hesitation--of suspense to the spectators. The warriors regarded one another with looks of astonishment and recognition. Then La-ma-to-the, the Shawnee, spoke:
"Know you not, Pawnee, that we have met, far back in the past, the past that appears to us now as the distant mountains when wrapped in smoke from heaven's pipe of peace?"
"Yes," replied the other, "I remember the blue sky and the broad prairie, covered with sweet grasses, where the rest of our kind fed quietly, or, scenting danger, galloped wildly from place to place."
"Pawnee, we were bison, then (Puk-wah-chee-m'-tho-tho), belonging to the same herd and following the same leader. Let us go back to our people and tell them we were brothers in the other world."
They separated, and the war chiefs, understanding well, looked upward, in reverence to the Great Being who had transformed them all in the time long ago, then returned in silence to their villages.
Many Shawnees and Pottawatomies claim that they are of the lost tribes of Israel. Certain customs that have descended to them from time immemorial, seem to bear out this theory. Their Holy of Holies corresponds to the Ark of the Covenant, of the Israelites. Its contents were known only to its possessor, and, under penalty of death, all others, except the medicine men, were forbidden to touch the sacred relic, which was wrapped and re-wrapped with bark until it became a good-sized bundle.
The Shawnee language is a dialect of the Algonquin, which possesses all the vowel sounds. The letters f, r, and v are wanting. X is also wanting in all Algonquin languages except the Delaware and Mohican. There is a strong affinity between the Shawnee and the Mohican dialects. Verbs are full and varied in their inflections. The meanings of whole words are concentrated upon a few syllables or upon a single letter. The prefix tah, indicates futurity. Everything is considered as divided into two classes--animate and inanimate. Terminations change accordingly. Divested of their appendages, words become monosyllables. The syllable e-bun is added to the name of one deceased. This is equivalent to the words "has been" and is a delicate way of indicating a person's demise. For instance, Tecumseh, after death, becomes Tecumseh-e-bun or "Has Been Tecumseh."
A wealthy trader who married the descendant of a French officer stationed in Canada during Colonial days and the daughter of a chief of the Chippewas, passed through many strange experiences while sojourning among the Shawnees.
One moonlight night, riding from Westport, now a part of Kansas City, to Uniontown, on the present site of Valencia, he left the beaten road and took a short cut for home over a seldom used Indian trail. A ghostly stillness prevailed, which was broken, ere he had proceeded far, by a series of blood-curdling groans, sometimes clear and distinct, sometimes like the rushing of the wind, but always seeming to follow in his wake. Drawing a revolver and wheeling to confront the enemy, he found only empty air--while the pale moon still shone serenely down upon the unbroken prairie. Again the terrible sounds became audible; and the horse was urged to its highest rate of speed without avail. A sensation of horror creeping over him, the pioneer turned into a path leading to an Indian hut--the noise sweeping by like the breath of a cyclone--and inquired the cause. His host, well versed in explanations of the medicine men, replied:
"Had you remained upon that trail, the route of a rambling night spirit, you would have surely died before the break of day."
Doubtless these interpretations often served to cover murderous designs.
On another occasion he was urged by a friendly Indian, a member of a secret society, not to undertake his usual journey, as, at a gulley south of Martin's Hill, danger lay in wait. True enough, at that place a large gray wolf sprang out and made a fierce lunge, inflicting deep wounds upon the horse. The traveler fired but missed the animal. Again and again the ferocious creature jumped at him, each time failing to reach the man and burying its teeth in the horse. After a furious conflict, in which the rider succeeded in beating back the wolf with the butt of his pistol, he urged forward the wounded steed and was enabled to outrun his wild adversary.
A Shawnee, descended from the principal characters described, is authority for the following story, of
MAUNE', THE CHIPPEWA GIRL.
Near the city of Quebec, so long ago as the time of the French and Indian War, lived a dark-eyed girl of the Chippewa tribe, in whose sweet face bloomed a dusky beauty that distinguished her from other maidens of the nation and caused her to become an object of admiration to the gallant young officers who were struggling to maintain the supremacy of France. Had it not been for the brilliant victory of General Wolfe, and the noble sacrifices of the British and Colonial troops, there were no sad story to record, for with the advent of England came an exodus of the French soldiery from the Dominion, and crushing sorrow to Maune', whose heart had been captured by the handsomest officer in the vicinity of their village.
She was the daughter of a great chief, renowned among his people for deeds of bravery in war, therefore, it had occasioned small surprise when the noble Colonel Beauchamie selected _la petite_ Maune' as his Indian bride. In time, two fine boys brought new sunshine into the rude quarters which, in those primitive days, served as home, though to the young mother, the rich furs and blankets and pretty trinkets with which she was endowed, seemed the very acme of luxury.
Life was full of sweet contentment, until, one clear, cold morning, the French looked out in astonishment upon the army of General Wolfe, drawn up in battle array. How it had ascended the steep cliffs was a mystery to those within the walls.
General Montcalm, resting his faith in superior numbers, risked a battle outside the fortifications. The heroism and patriotism of the opposing generals, their glorious death, the celebrated victory of the English with its important results, and the final expulsion of the French from that portion of the New World, are all matters of history.
Colonel Beauchamie was ordered back to France with his regiment. The question now obtruded itself, "What should be done with Maune'?" He could not present an Indian wife to friends at home, neither was he willing to leave his sons in Canada. After prolonged consultation with a few brother officers, it was quietly arranged that the children should be spirited away and placed on board a ship destined to transport the soldiers back to their native land; and the devoted woman was to be deserted.
Maune', suspecting these designs, crept quietly behind the partition that screened the officers from view, and listened to the development of the plan. Her affectionate heart sank as she became aware of her husband's perfidy. Love, grief and determination followed in rapid succession. Sadly she stole away and prepared for flight. A canoe was stored with provisions and the sleeping children placed inside; then, with mingled feelings of affection and the hatred and resolution peculiar to her race, she bade farewell to home, happiness, country, all that made life dear, except the slumbering babes. For their sakes she would struggle through the wilderness to a more favored land. Where, she knew not. The Great Spirit would guide and protect her; and the blood of fierce warriors, which flowed in the veins of this child of Nature, gave strength and courage in the hour of need.
Up the river she proceeded, keeping close to shore; when at a safe distance from pursuit, landing for rest and for the purpose of adding to their scant amount of provisions. From the river into the lakes, slowly, cautiously, Maune' made her way, passing through untold hardships, always caring tenderly for the dependent little ones. Cold, hunger, wild beasts and the fierce storms of the Northern lakes were alike disregarded; and at last, long after English rule had been firmly established in Canada, and Quebec and Montreal converted into British headquarters; after the cruel conquerors had banished the simple Acadians from their land--Maune', weak, emaciated and fainting with starvation, was found by a wandering party of Shawnees, upon the Illinois shore.
By almost superhuman efforts, the heroic woman had preserved her children; and the hardships of the journey had produced no serious effects upon their sturdy constitutions. Adopted into the tribe, she found a habitation with the friendly Shawnees.
Though the image of her pale-faced husband was never erased entirely from the heart of the faithful Chippewa, and a lingering sadness and silence kept her in partial isolation, she lived many years in quiet and saw her sons, as they grew to manhood, regarded as the boldest and most successful of the tribe, in times of peace and war.
Advancing age brought with it the suspicion of witchcraft. Maune' was of a strange nation; and her adherence to unknown customs aroused fear in the breasts of the ignorant Shawnees. Finally, the leading medicine man decreed that she must die. Her sons were powerless to resist the tide of superstition.
A bundle of sticks was produced, and the unfortunate creature tied to a stake. Then the horrible torture commenced. Frantic Indians, chanting their weird melodies, danced round the fire, as it slowly consumed the ill-fated Chippewa. Not a sound of terror or of anguish escaped the woman in this moment of exquisite suffering. At last, a merciful breath of flame severed the thread of life, and all that remained of the bright little maiden, who had been the idol of her brave Canadian people, was a disfigured mass of charred flesh and bones.
Surely the Great Spirit whom she worshipped, and the tender Mother of Christ, whom the Jesuits had taught her to implore, looked down in pitying love, and recompensed, in the Spirit Land, this child of misfortune--Maune' _la miserable_.
Tragedies were every-day occurrences among the natives, in those days, and there were times when fanaticism swept all before it; but that the great men of the Indians were not unworthy of the admiration and respect of their enemies, is shown in
A FRAGMENT OF HISTORY FROM THE WAR OF THE RACES.
On a picturesque cliff overlooking the Mad River, in what is now the State of Ohio, was located, more than a century ago, the Indian village of the Piqua Shawnees.
The settlement was prosperous and fully two hundred acres of land were in cultivation. A log fort, surrounded with pickets, had been built, and the Shawnees were prepared for defense in the event of an attempt to capture the town.
This beautiful spot was the birth-place of the famous Tecumseh--Shooting Star--the most illustrious Indian that ever battled for the rights of his people. Eloquent, powerful in mind and body, and possessing the soul of a hero, the patriotic chief was, at the opening of the nineteenth century, deep in plans for the advancement of his race. Is it a matter of surprise that he should oppose, with ceaseless energy, the encroachment of the white man? That his talents should be unsparingly used in the hopeless endeavor to stay the westward progress of civilization? He had seen the red man repeatedly deprived of land, under almost compulsory treaties with the Government. His independent spirit rebelled against the authority of the pale-face; and the circumstances of his father's death, during the troublous times when the celebrated Cornstalk waged war, had made a lasting impression.
The far-seeing leader realized that without a combined effort on the part of the natives, extinction was certain. Fired with determination to break the growing power of the Long-knives (as the Americans were called), he formed a federation of nations for the purpose of putting a stop to emigration, claiming that their possessions were common property and could not be transferred without the consent of all.
He incited the Indians to hostilities, going from one part of the country to another, accompanied by two warriors of exceptional bravery. Sa-wa-co-ta (Yellow Cloud) and Wa-se-go-bo-ah (Stand Firm) were the sons of a Chippewa mother. Their father, a French officer, had gone back to his own land at the close of the French and Indian War. Prior to his departure, the unfortunate wife, learning of the proposed desertion, and discovering that her children were to be placed on board the ship which would soon sail across the seas, fled with the babes and found a refuge among the Shawnees, where the boys grew to manhood. Tall, straight and commanding, with all the intensity of the Latin races, and the wildness and stoicism of the aborigines, they were well fitted for positions of trust under Tecumseh.
Indian traits predominated in Sa-wa-co-ta, the older of the brothers. His dark complexion, high cheek bones and flashing eyes bespoke, to a marked degree, a savage lineage; while the open countenance of Wa-se-go-bo-ah showed a stronger tendency toward the father's kindred. From early childhood, there had been in his manner, a refinement and superiority that denoted a long line of cultured ancestors from the nobility of France. Here, even in the wilds of America, was that distinction observed and respected by a barbarous people.
Young and old alike listened with quiet approval when the lips of Wa-se-go-bo-ah opened to give advice, and the sister of Tecumseh, Tecumapease, heard with trembling joy the words his eyes had long since spoken, and betrothal followed. But there was one of dark and evil face and strange demeanor, the older brother of Tecumapease, who gazed with hatred on her future lord, and would, if possible, prevent the nuptials. The prophet, Elkswatawa (Loud Voice), fearing the influence of the warrior Stand Firm might exceed his own, opposed the union.
Tecumseh, having returned from a pilgrimage to a distant tribe, was seated in his cabin, awaiting the coming of the prophet. He regarded with contempt the luxuries of life, and when at home in the new Piqua village, resided in a log hut chinked with mud. The ancient town had been destroyed by white soldiers, and its namesake founded near the Great Miami River. A nose ring with three silver crosses, and a few stripes of brilliant paint gave a look of ferocity to the bright intelligent face of the chief; and a medallion of George the Third, on a wampum string, hung around his neck. Buckskin leggings, moccasins decorated with porcupine quills, a deerskin jacket and a blue breech-cloth completed the odd uniform.
Elkswatawa entered, clad in garments made from the skins of wild animals. In addition to these, a kind of turban surmounted with bunches of feathers, a nose ring, large earrings, hideously painted cheeks, and a sightless eye, the other gleaming with malignant fire, were well calculated to inspire terror. The man was an object of superstitious awe to the Northwestern Indians.
In vain he sought to change the mind of him who had decided to bestow Tecumapease upon the most beloved of all the braves. The wily Prophet appealed without effect to that innate love of power, strong in persons that are born to rule. The Shooting Star looked deep beneath the surface, and discerned, within the heart of Loud Voice, envy and unfounded dread of the growing popularity of Wa-se-go-bo-ah.
The Prophet left in anger; and collecting a few followers, betook himself to a new locality, the present site of Greenville, where he established a town.
Attracted by stories of wonderful deeds, savages from different directions flocked to the place. It was rumored that the seer could make pumpkins as large as wigwams come up out of the ground, and that one ear of his corn would feed six men; that he was invulnerable, and had all knowledge of the present, past and future. Many of the Shawnees considered Elkswatawa an impostor and refused to enter into any plans against the Government. Tecumseh frowned upon them, and spent much time, when not upon his travels, at the Prophet's town.
General Harrison, Governor of the Territory of Indiana, became alarmed and sent a letter to the brothers, inviting them to Vincennes, for the purpose of making known their grievances. To the intense fright of the inhabitants, they responded with an escort of four hundred fully armed warriors. At the appointed hour, on the morning of the Twelfth of August, 1808, Tecumseh advanced, with thirty chosen men, to the place of meeting in front of the Governor's residence. By his side were Stand Firm, now the husband of Tecumapease, and Yellow Cloud. An aid-de-camp pointed to a seat by General Harrison, and addressing the chief, said:
"Your father requests you to take a seat."
Drawing his blanket more closely around him, Tecumseh replied:
"The Sun is my father and the Earth is my mother; on her bosom will I repose"; and flung himself upon the ground.
His speech at the council has gone down in history as one of the most remarkable on record, for native oratory. A spirited answer, with a refusal to return the lands in question, aroused the braves, who, at a signal, seized their war clubs. Tomahawks were brandished in a threatening way. Bloodshed was averted only by the coolness and tact of the Governor.
In the confusion which resulted, Wa-se-go-bo-ah fell heavily forward, stricken down, supposedly, by a white foe. The unconscious man was borne to the Indian camp. As no wound could be discovered on first examination, the Americans were accused of employing supernatural power. Then a small bruise was found at the base of the brain, similar to one produced by a missile. Gradually the favorite of the people recovered; and as he lay upon the grass, enveloped in a thick blanket, he turned, and suddenly beheld a terrible figure, with horns and one fierce gleaming eye, burning like a coal of fire, creep stealthily toward him. Its hand was raised to strike, and in the claw-like fingers was clutched a glittering knife. Frozen with horror, he remained for a moment immovable, then, quick as thought, rolled under the arm of the crouching demon--evading the blade almost by miracle--and struck against its breast. A desperate struggle ensued, in which Stand Firm secured possession of the weapon. Holding it aloft, he caught at the throat of the hairy-faced monster and the mask came off, disclosing the features of the Prophet.
"Elkswatawa, N-tha-thah (my brother), why do you seek my life? Go, for the sake of her whose eyes are as the stars of heaven, unharmed. Their light shall guide me into paths of peace. Her love shall teach me to forgive your murderous wrath."