Boys' Book of Indian Warriors and Heroic Indian Women (2024)

AND

HEROIC INDIAN WOMEN

BY

EDWIN L. SABIN

PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1918, by
George W. Jacobs & Company

All rights reserved
Printed in U. S. A.

FOREWORD

When the white race came into the country of the red race, the red racelong had had their own ways of living and their own code of right andwrong. They were red, but they were thinking men and women, not mereanimals.

The white people brought their ways, which were different from theIndians' ways. So the two races could not live together.

To the white people, many methods of the Indians were wrong; to theIndians, many of the white people's methods were wrong. The whitepeople won the rulership, because they had upon their side acivilization stronger than the loose civilization of the red people,and were able to carry out their plans.

The white Americans formed one nation, with one language; the redAmericans formed many nations, with many languages.

The Indian fought as he had always fought, and ninety-nine times out ofone hundred he firmly believed that he was enforcing the right. Thewhite man fought after his own custom and sometimes after the Indian'scustom also; and not infrequently he knew that he was enforcing a wrong.

Had the Indians been enabled to act all together, they would have heldtheir land, just as the Americans of today would hold their landagainst the invader.

Of course, the Indian was not wholly right, and the white man was notwholly wrong. There is much to be said, by either, and there werebrave chiefs and warriors on both sides.

This book is written according to the Indian's view of matters, so thatwe may be better acquainted with his thoughts. The Indians now livingdo not apologize for what their fathers and grandfathers did. A manwho defends what he believes are his rights is a patriot, whether theyreally are his rights, or not.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Chief Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece

King Philip (missing from book)

Pontiac, The Red Napoleon

An Indian Brave

Young Kiowa Girl (missing from book)

Red Cloud

Standing Bear

Sitting Bull

BOYS' BOOK OF INDIAN WARRIORS

CHAPTER I

PISKARET THE ADIRONDACK CHAMPION (1644)

HOW HE SCOUTED AGAINST THE IROQUOIS

It was in early spring, about the year 1644, that the warrior Piskaretof the Adirondack tribe of the Algonkins set forth alone from theisland Allumette in the Ottawa River, Canada, to seek his enemies theIroquois.

For there long had been bitter, bitter war between the vengefulAlgonkins[1] and the cruel Hurons on the one side, and the proud, evencrueler Five Nations of the Iroquois on the other side. At first theAdirondacks had driven the Mohawks out of lower Canada and intonorthern New York; but of late all the Algonkins, all the Hurons, andthe French garrisons their allies, had been unable to stem the tide ofthe fierce Iroquois, rolling back into Canada again.

"Iri-a-khoiw" was the Algonkin name for them, meaning "adder." TheFrench termed them "Mingos," from another Algonkin word meaning"stealthy." The English and Dutch colonists in America knew them asthe Five Nations. Their own title was "People of the Long House," asif the five nations were one family housed all together under one roof.

The Mohawks, the Senecas, the Onondagas, the Oneidas and theCayugas—these composed the Iroquois league of the Five Nations againstthe world of enemies. The league rapidly spread in power, until thedreaded Iroquois were styled the Romans of the West.

But nearly three hundred years ago they were only beginning to rise.Their home was in central New York, from the Mohawk country at theHudson River west to the Seneca country almost to Lake Erie. In thiswide tract were their five principal towns, fortified by ditches andlog palisades. From here they carried war south clear to the Cherokeesof Tennessee, west clear into the land of the Illinois, and north tothe Algonkins at Quebec of the lower St. Lawrence River.

Twelve or fifteen thousand people they numbered. Mohawks, Senecas,Onondagas, Oneidas and Cayugas still survive, as many as ever andranking high among the civilized Indians of North America.

The Hurons lived to the northwest, in a smaller country along theshores of Georgian Bay of southeastern Lake Huron, in Canada.

"Hurons" they were called by the French, meaning "bristly" or "savagehaired," for they wore their coarse black hair in many fantastic cuts,but the favorite fashion was that of a stiff roach or mane extendingfrom the forehead to the nape of the neck, like the bristles of a wildboar's back or the comb of a rooster. By the Algonkins they werecalled "serpents," also. Their own name for themselves was "Wendat,"or "People of the Peninsula"—a word which the English wrote as"Wyandot."

They were of the Iroquois family, but for seventy-five years and morethey had been at war with their cousins of the south. They, too, hadtheir principal fortified towns, and their league, of four independentnations and four protected nations, numbering twenty thousand. Likethose of the Iroquois, some of their bark houses were five hundred feetlong, for twenty families. Yet of this powerful people there remaintoday only about four hundred Hurons, near Quebec, and as many Wyandotsin Canada and the former Indian Territory of Oklahoma.

The Algonkins lived farther north, along the Ottawa River, and the St.Lawrence to the east. "Place of spearing eel and fish from a canoe,"is the best that we may get from the word "Algonkin." The "RaisedHair" people did the French first term them, because they wore theirhair pompadoured. But Adirondack was a Mohawk word, "Hatirontaks,""Eaters of Trees," accusing the Adirondacks of being so hungry inwinter that they ate bark.

In summer the men went naked; in winter they donned a fur cape. Theywere noted warriors, hunters and fishers, and skillful in making shellornaments. As the "Nation of the Island" also were they known to theFrench explorers, because their headquarters were upon that largeisland of Allumette in the Ottawa River above present Ottawa of Canada.

The several tribes of Algonkins found by the French in Canada were onlya small portion of those American Indians speaking in the Algonquiantongue. The immense Algonquian family covered North America from theAtlantic to the Mississippi, and reached even to the Rocky Mountains.The Indians met by the Pilgrim Fathers were Algonquians; King Philipwas an Algonquian; the Shawnees of Tec*mseh were Algonquians; the Sacsand Foxes of Chief Black-hawk were Algonquians; the Chippewas of Canadaand the Winnebagos from Wisconsin are Algonquians; so are the Arapahosand Cheyennes of the plains and the Blackfeet of Montana.

The bark lodges of the Algonkins were round and peaked like a cone,instead of being long and ridged like those of the Iroquois and Hurons.Of the Algonkins of Canada there are sixteen hundred, today; there areno Adirondacks, under that name.

Now in 1644 the proud Iroquois hated the Algonkins, hated the Hurons,and had hated the French for thirty-five years, since the bravegentleman adventurer, Samuel de Champlain, having founded Quebec in1608, had marched against them with his armor, his powder and ball, andthe triumphantly whooping enemy.

The Iroquois never forgave the French for this. And indeed a trulysavage warfare it had become, here in this northern country on eitherside of the border between New York and Canada: where the winters werelong and piercingly cold, where hunger frequently stalked, where travelwas by canoe on the noble St. Lawrence, the swift Ottawa, theRichelieu, the lesser streams and lakes, and by snowshoe or moccasinthrough the heavy forests; where the Indians rarely failed to torturetheir captives in manner too horrid to relate; and where the only whitepeople were 300 French soldiers, fur-traders, laborers, priests andnuns, mainly at Quebec, and new Montreal, on the St. Lawrence, and thelittle trading-post of Three Rivers, half way between the two.

Algonkins and Hurons were accepting the French as allies. Theylistened, sometimes in earnest, sometimes in cunning, to the teachingsof those "Black Robes," the few fearless priests who sought them out.The priests, bravest of the brave, journeyed unarmed and far, evenamong the scornful Iroquois, enduring torture by fire and knife, thetorment of mosquitoes, cold and famine, and draughty, crowded barkhouses smotheringly thick with damp wood smoke.

In spite of cross and sword, (trying to tame them,) the Iroquois werewaxing ever bolder. They were well supplied with match-lock gunsobtained by the Mohawks from the Dutch of the Hudson River. From theirfive towns ruled by a grand council of fifty chiefs they constantlysent out their raiding parties into the north. These, dartinghalf-crouched in single file through the dark timber, creeping silentlyin their canoes by road of the dark rivers, suddenly fell like starvedwolves upon whomsoever they sighted, be that near Quebec itself; killedthem, or captured them, to hustle them away, break their bones, burntheir bodies, eat of them; and returned for more.

Algonkins and Hurons were cruel, too, and crafty; but they were beingbeaten by greater craft and better arms.

So now we come again to Piskaret, of the Adirondacks, whose home wasupon that large island of Allumette, governed by the haughty Algonkinchief Le Borgne, or The One-Eye.

Simon Piskaret was his full name as recorded in the mission books, forhe and others of Allumette Island had been baptised by the priests.But with them this was much a method of getting protection, food andpowder from these French; and an old writer of 1647 says that Piskaretwas a Christian only by "appearance and policy."

However, the case of the Algonkins and the Hurons was growing verydesperate. They risked their lives every time they ventured into theforests, and Piskaret was ashamed of being cooped in. Once theAdirondacks had been mighty. Hot desire to strike another blow flamedhigh in his heart. Therefore in this early spring of 1644, ere yet thesnows were fairly melted, he strode away, alone, with snowshoes, bentupon doing some great deed.

His course was southeast, from the river Ottawa to cross the frozen St.Lawrence, and speed onward 100 miles for the Lake Champlain country ofthe New York-Canada border line, where he certainly would find theIroquois.

By day and night he traveled, clad in his moccasins and fur mantle.Then when he reached the range of the Iroquois he reversed hissnowshoes, so that they pointed backward. The Iroquois who might seehis trail would know that these were the prints of Algonkin snowshoes,but they would think that here had been only an Algonkin hasteninghome. If they followed, they would be going in one direction and he inanother!

His progress was slower, now, for it is hard to make time in snowshoespointing backward; and presently he took pains to pick a way by keepingto the ridges and the south slopes from which the snow had melted. Hiseyes and ears needs must be alert; no sharper woodsmen ever lived, thanthe keen wolfish Iroquois.

At last, in the forest, he came upon Iroquois sign; next, peering andlistening and sniffing, he smelled wood smoke; and stealing on, fromtree to tree, he discovered the site of an Iroquois winter village, setin a clearing amidst the timber.

For the rest of that day he hid out; that night, after all had quieted,with war-club and knife ready he slipped like a shadow in among thevery lodges. Not even a dog sensed him as he stood questing about foranother hiding place.

Aha, he had it! Both the Hurons and the Iroquois laid in large stocksof fire wood, by forming piles of logs slanted together on end; and inone pile, here, was an opening through which he might squeeze into thecenter space, there to squat as under a tent. The ground in thevillage had been scraped bare of snow; he would leave no tracks.

Having thus experimented and arranged, Piskaret drew a long breath,grasped his war-club, and stealthily pushing aside the loose birch-barkdoor-flap of the nearest lodge, peeped inside. By the ember light hesaw that every Iroquois, man and woman, was fast asleep, under furs, onspruce boughs around the fire.

Now Piskaret swiftly entered, without a sound killed them all, scalpedthem, and fled to his wood-pile.

Early in the grayness of morning he heard a great cry, swelling louderand louder until the forest echoed. It was a cry of grief and of rage.The strangely silent lodge had been investigated and his bloody workwas known. Feet thudded past his wood-pile, hasty figures brushedagainst it, as the best warriors of the village bolted for the timber,to circle until they found the tracks of their enemy. But if theyfound any snowshoe tracks made by a stranger, these led out, not in.

So that day the Iroquois pursued furiously and vainly, while Piskaretcrouched snug in his wood-pile, listened to the clamor, and laughed tohimself.

At evening the weary Iroquois returned, foiled and puzzled. Theirnimblest trailers had not even sighted the bold raider. This nightPiskaret again waited until all was quiet; again he ventured forth,slipped inside a lodge, killed and scalped, and retreated to hiswood-pile.

And again, with the morning arose that shrill uproar of grief andvengeance and the warriors scurried into the forest.

By evening the Iroquois were not only mystified but much alarmed. Whowas this thing that struck in the night and left no trail? An evilspirit had come among them—roosted perhaps in the trees!

If a squaw had removed a log or two from the pile Piskaret would havebeen torn to pieces, but fortune still stayed with him and he was notmolested save by cold and hunger.

Tonight, however, the Iroquois chattered affrightedly until late; andwhen, after the noises had died away, Piskaret, cramped and chilled buteager, for a third time stole through the darkness to a lodge, he knewthat his game was up. In this lodge two watchers had been posted—oneat either end; and they were awake.

The same in the next lodge, and the next. Wherever he applied his eyeto a crack in the bark walls, he saw two sentries, armed andalert—until finally he arrived at a lodge wherein one of the sentries,the one near the door, was squatted drowsy and half asleep.

So Piskaret softly placed his bundle of scalps where he might find itinstantly, on a sudden threw aside the birch-bark door-flap, struckterribly with his club, yelled his war-cry that all might hear, grabbedhis bundle of scalps and ran hard for the forest. From every lodge theIroquois poured in pursuit.

All the rest of this night he ran, making northward, with the Iroquoispelting and whooping after; but the records say that he was theswiftest runner in the North—therefore he had little fear of beingovertaken.

All the next day he ran, only now and then pausing, to show himself,and yell, and tempt the Iroquois onward; for he had another plan. Atnight-fall there were but six Iroquois left on his trail, and thesewere about worn out.

Now in the gathering darkness, noting his enemies falter, Piskaretsprang aside to a hollow tree and hid himself again. The tiredIroquois straggled near, and when they lost the trail they willinglyquit, in order to roll in their bear-skins and sleep until the light ofmorning.

Whereupon, after granting them a little time, Piskaret crept out,killed every one of them, added their six scalps to his package, andhaving rested until day, sped north, with his dreadful trophies, toreport at the island of Allumette.

That this is a true story of the famous Adirondack warrior Piskaret maybe proved by the old French chronicles of those very times.

[1] The noun Algonkin, meaning an Indian, is also spelled Algonquin.But the adjective from this noun is spelled Algonquian when applied toIndians, and Algonkian when applied to a time or period in geology.

CHAPTER II

PISKARET THE ADIRONDACK CHAMPION (1645-1647)

HOW HE BROUGHT PEACE TO THE FORESTS

Piskaret was a hero. From lip to lip the story of his lone trail wasrepeated through the bark lodges of the Algonkins, and the long housesof the fierce Hurons, and even among the gentle nuns and gaunt priestsof the brave mission settlements upon the lower St. Lawrence River.

But the nuns and priests did not favor such bloody deeds, which ledonly to more. Their teachings were all of peace rather than warbetween men. Yet each and every one of them was as bold as Piskaret,and to bring about peace would gladly go as far as he, and farther.

Now he did not lack followers. In the early spring of 1645, scarce atwelve-month after his famous lone scout, he took with him six other"Christian" Algonkin warriors, again to hunt the Iroquois.

Upon the large island in the St. Lawrence River, just below the mouthof the Algonkin's River Ottawa, the fort and mission of Montreal hadbeen built, much to the rage of the roving Iroquois. It was thefarthest up-river of the French settlements, and in the midst of theIroquois favorite scouting grounds.

So bitter were the Iroquois, that all the fall and all the winterMontreal had been in a state of siege.

Tired of such one-sided warfare, Piskaret resolved to strike anotherblow. The broad St. Lawrence was fast locked by the winter's ice. Hissmall party dragged their three canoes over the level snowy surface,and on eastward across a tongue of timbered land, to the RiverRichelieu. This connects Lake Champlain of New York and the St.Lawrence in Canada.

The Richelieu, flowing black and deep, had opened. It was thewater-trail of the Iroquois, and especially of the Mohawks. By it theymade their forays north to the St. Lawrence and the camps of theirenemies.

Every thicket along its banks and every curve in its course was likelyto be an ambush; but the fearless Piskaret party ascended clear to LakeChamplain itself. Here they landed upon an island, concealedthemselves and their canoes in the wintry forest, and waited.

One day they heard a gun-shot. Some Iroquois were about, upon the lakeor upon the mainland.

"Come," spoke Piskaret, to his party. "Let us eat. It may be the lasttime, for we will have to die instead of run."

After they had eaten, they saw two canoes making straight for theisland. Each canoe held seven Iroquois. That counted up fourteen, ortwo to one.

However, the Piskaret party had the advantage of position. They hid inthe bushes at the place for which the canoes were heading.

"Let us each choose a man in the first canoe," directed Piskaret, "andtake sure aim, and fire together."

The volley by the Algonkins was so deadly that every one of the sixballs killed an Iroquois. The seventh warrior dived overboard, andescaped by swimming to the other canoe. That had been swift work.

But the Iroquois were brave. Of the Mohawk tribe, these. Instead ofturning about, to get help, the eight warriors, whooping in rage,paddled furiously along the shore, to land at another spot and givebattle.

Piskaret's Algonkins ran hard to head them off, and met the canoeagain. At the shore one of the Iroquois sighted them, and stood up tofire. They shot him, so that he tumbled overboard and capsized thecanoe.

The seven Mohawks were now in the water; but the water was shallow, andsplashing through, they bored right in, like bulldogs.

The Piskaret Algonkins had need to shoot fast and true. The Mohawksfeared nothing, and despised Algonkins. Besides, they now knew thatPiskaret was before them, and his scalp they considered a great prize.

The Mohawks lost this battle. Before they could gain shelter, of theirseven four had been killed, two had been captured, and there was onlyone who escaped.

No time was to be lost. The sounds of the battle probably had beenheard.

"We have done well," said Piskaret. "Now we may run."

So they launched their canoes, and with two prisoners and eleven scalpsthey plied their paddles at best speed for the Richelieu.

Down the Richelieu, and down the St. Lawrence, nothing disagreeablehappened, save that, when one of the Mohawks (a large, out-spokenwarrior) defied the Algonkins to do their worst upon him, and calledthem weaklings, he was struck across the mouth, to silence him.

"Where are you taking us, then?"

"We are taking you to the French governor at Quebec. He is our father,and you belong to him, not to us."

That indeed was surprising news. Usually the Hurons and the Algonkinsrefused to deliver any of their prisoners to the missions or the forts,but carried them away to the torture.

The Richelieu empties into the St. Lawrence below Montreal. On downthe St. Lawrence, thick with melting ice, hastened the canoes, untilQuebec, the capital of the province, was within sight.

Four miles above Quebec there had been founded another mission forChristian Indians. It was named Sillery. Here a number of Algonkinshad erected a village of log huts, on a flat beside the river, underthe protection of a priests' house, church and hospital.

As they approached Sillery, the Piskaret party raised their elevenscalps on eleven long poles. While they drifted, they chanted a songof triumph, and beat time to it by striking their paddles, alltogether, upon the gunwales of their canoes.

The two captives, believing that the hour of torture was near, sangtheir own songs of defiance.

That was a strange sight, to be nearing Sillery. So the good father incharge of Sillery sent a runner to Quebec. He himself, with hisassistants, joined the crowd of Algonkins gathered at the river shore.

The canoes came on. The scalps and the two prisoners were plain to beseen. Piskaret! It was the noted warrior Piskaret! Guns were beingfired, whoops were being exchanged, and the mission father waited,hopeful and astonished.

Now the chief of the Sillery Algonkins, who had been baptised to thename of Jean Baptiste, made a speech of welcome, from the shore.Standing upright in his canoe, Piskaret the champion replied. And nowa squad of French soldiers, hurrying in from Quebec, added to theexcitement with a volley of salute.

Piskaret landed, proud not only that he had again whipped the Iroquois,but that he had acted like a Christian toward his captives. He had notburned them nor gnawed off their finger tips. And instead of givingthem over for torture by other Algonkins, he had brought them cleardown the river, to the governor.

The scalp trophies were planted, like flags, over the doorways of theSillery lodges. The two captives were placed under guard until thegovernor should arrive from Quebec. The happy Father Jesuit badeeverybody feast and make merry, to celebrate the double victory ofPiskaret.

The governor of this New France hastened up from Quebec, hopeful thatat last a way had been opened to peace with the dread Iroquois.

Clad in his brilliant uniform of scarlet and lace, he sat in council atthe mission house, to receive Piskaret and the captives. With him satthe Father Jesuit, the head of the mission, and around them weregrouped the Christian Algonkins.

The two Mohawks were brought in, and by a long speech Piskaretsurrendered them to the governor. Governor Montmagny replied, praisinghim for his good heart and gallant deed—and of course rewarding himwith presents, also.

The two Mohawks thought that their torture was only being postponed alittle, until the French were on hand to take part in it. To theirminds, the council was held for the purpose of deciding upon the formof torture. They had resolved to die bravely.

But to their great astonishment, the governor told them that theirlives were spared and that they were to be well treated.

Rarely before, in all the years of war between the Iroquois and othernations, had such a thing occurred. To be sure, now and then a captivehad been held alive, but only after he was so much battered that he wasnot worth finishing, or else had been well punished and was saved out,as a reward for his bravery.

So the big man, of the two captives, rose to make a speech in reply tothe offer by the governor. He addressed him as "Onontio," or, in theMohawk tongue, "Great Mountain," which was the translation of the nameMontmagny.

"Onontio," he said, "I am saved from the fire; my body is deliveredfrom death. Onontio, you have given me my life. I thank you for it.I will never forget it. All my country will be grateful to you. Theearth will be bright; the river calm and smooth; there will be peaceand friendship between us. The shadow is before my eyes no longer.The spirits of my ancestors slain by the Algonkins have disappeared.Onontio, you are good: we are bad. But our anger is gone; I have noheart except for peace and rejoicing."

He danced, holding up his hands to the ceiling of the council chamber,as if to the sky. He seized a hatchet, and flourished it—but hesuddenly flung the hatchet into the wood fire.

"Thus I throw down my anger! Thus I cast away the weapons of blood!Farewell, war! Now I am your friend forever!"

Naturally, Piskaret might feel much satisfied with himself, that he hadfollowed the teachings of the priests and had spared the enemies whohad fallen into his hands.

The two captives were permitted to move about freely. After a whilethey were sent up-river to the trading-post and fort of Three Rivers,where there was another Iroquois. Having suffered cruel torture he hadbeen purchased by the French commander of the post.

This Iroquois, after seeing and talking with the two, was givenpresents, and started home, to carry peace talk from Onontio to theFive Nations. The great Onontio stood ready to return the two otherprisoners, also, unharmed, if the Iroquois would agree to peace.

In about six weeks the Iroquois peace messenger came into Three Riverswith two Mohawk chiefs to represent the Mohawk nation.

Now there was much ceremony, of speeches and feasts, not only by theFrench of the post, but also by the Algonkins and the Hurons. Thegovernor came up. In a grand peace council Chief Kiosaton, the headambassador, made a long address. After each promise of good-will hepassed out a broad belt of wampum, until the line upon which the beltswere hung was sagging with more than fifteen.

By these beaded belts the promises were sealed.

Piskaret was here. It was necessary for him to give a present thatshould "wipe out the memory of the Iroquois blood he had shed," andthis he did.

With high-sounding words the Mohawks left by sailboat for the mouth ofthe Richelieu, to continue on south to their own country. Anothercouncil had been set, for the fall. Then the more distant tribes ofthe Algonkins and the Hurons should meet the Iroquois, here at ThreeRivers, and seal a general peace.

At that greater council many belts of wampum were passed—to clear thesky of clouds, to smooth the rivers and lakes and trails, to break thehatchets and guns and shields, and the kettles in which prisoners wereboiled; to wash faces clean of war-paint and to wipe out the memory ofwarriors slain.

There were dances and feasts; and in all good humor the throng broke up.

Peace seemed to have come to the forests. The Piskaret party mightwell consider that they had opened the way. The happy priests gavethanks to Heaven that their prayers had been answered, and that thehearts of the Iroquois, the Algonkins and the Hurons were soft to theteachings of Christianity.

Now, would the peace last?

Yes—for twelve months, with the Mohawks alone. After which, sayingthat the Black Robe priests had sent them a famine plague in a box, theMohawks seized new and sharper hatchets, again sped upon the war-trailto the St. Lawrence; and smote so terribly that at last they killed, inthe forest, even Piskaret himself, while singing a peace-song hestarted to greet them.

The Algonkin peoples and the Hurons were driven like straw in the wind.Many fled west and south, into the Great Lakes country, and beyond.

CHAPTER III

OPECHANCANOUGH, SACHEM OF THE PAMUNKEYS (1607-1644)

WHO FOUGHT AT THE AGE OF ONE HUNDRED

The first English-speaking settlement that held fast in the UnitedStates was Jamestown, inland a short distance from the Chesapeake Baycoast of Virginia, in the country of the Great King Powatan.

The Powatans, of at least thirty tribes, in this 1607 owned eightthousand square miles and mustered almost three thousand warriors.They lived in a land rich with good soil, game and fish; the men werewell formed, the women were comely, the children many.

But before the new settlers met King Powatan—whose title was sachem(chief) and whose real name was Wa-hun-so-na-cook—they met his brotherO-pe-chan-can-ough, sachem of the Pamunkey tribe of the Powatan league.

A large, masterful man was Opechancanough, sachem of the Pamunkeys.The Indians themselves said that he was not a Powatan, nor any relationof their king; but that he came from the princely line of a greatSouthern nation, distant many leagues. This may be the reason that,although he was allied to Chief Powatan, he never joined him infriendship to the whites, who, he claimed, if not checked wouldover-run the Indians' hunting-grounds.

The Indians of Virginia did not wish to have the white men among them.They were living well and comfortably, before the white men came; afterthe white men came, with terrible weapons and huge appetites which theyexpected the Indians to fill, and a habit of claiming all creation,clouds veiled the sky of the Powatans, their corn-fields and theirstreams were no longer their own.

Powatan, the head sachem, collected guns and hatchets and planned tostem the tide while it was small. But these English enticed hisdaughter Pocahontas aboard a vessel, and there held her for the goodbehavior of her father.

Pocahontas married John Rolfe, an English gentleman of the colony. Nowfor the first time Powatan was won, for he loved his daughter and thehonest treatment of her at English hands pleased him.

Opechancanough but bided his time, until 1622. He was a thoroughhater; his weapons were treachery as well as open war; he had resolvednever to give up his country to the stranger.

Meanwhile, Pocahontas had died, in 1617, aged about twenty-two, justwhen leaving England for a visit home.

Full of years and honors (for he had been a shrewd, noble-minded king)the sachem Powatan himself died in 1618, aged over three score and ten.His elder brother O-pi-tchi-pan became head sachem of the Powatanleague. He was not of high character like the great chief's. NowOpechancanough soon sprang to the front, as champion of the nation.

Pocahontas was no longer a hostage, the English settlements andplantations had increased, the English in England were in numbers ofthe stars, and the leaves, and the sands; and something must be done atonce.

Seventy-eight years of age he was, when he struck his blow. With thefierce Chick-a-hom-i-nies backing him, he had enlisted tribe aftertribe among the Powatans. Yet never a word of the plan reached thecolonists.

For several years peace had reigned in fair Virginia. The Indians werelooked upon as only "a naked, timid people, who durst not stand thepresenting of a staff in the manner of a firelock, in the hands of awoman"! "Firelocks" and modern arms they did lack, themselves, butOpechancanough, the old hater, had laid his plans to cover that.

March 22, 1622, was the date for the attack, which should "utterlyextinguish the English settlements forever." Yet "forever" could nothave been the hope of Opechancanough. Here in Virginia the white man'ssettlements had spread through five hundred miles, and on the north thePilgrim Fathers had started another batch in the country of thePokanokets.

The plan of Opechancanough succeeded perfectly. Keeping the datesecret, tribe after tribe sent their warriors, to arrive at the bordersof the Virginia settlements in the night of March 21.

"Although some of the detachments had to march from great distances,and through a continued forest, guided only by the stars and moon, nosingle instance of disorder or mistake is known to have happened. Oneby one they followed each other in profound silence, treading as nearlyas possible in each other's steps, and adjusting the long grass andbranches which they displaced. They halted at short distances from thesettlements, and waited in death-like stillness for the signal ofattack."

A number of Indians with whom the settlers were well acquainted hadbeen doing spy work. It was quite the custom for Indians to eatbreakfast in settlers' homes, and to sleep before the settlers'fire-places. In this manner the habits of every family upon thescattered plantations were known. There were Indians in the fields andin the houses and yards, pretending to be friendly, but preparing tostrike.

The moment agreed upon arrived. Instantly the peaceful scene changed.Acting all together, the Indians in the open seized hatchet, ax, cluband gun, whatever would answer the purpose, and killed. Some of thesettlers had been decoyed into the timber; many fell on their ownthresholds; and the majority died by their own weapons.

The bands in ambush rushed to take a hand. In one hour three hundredand forty-seven white men, women and children had been massacred. Itwas a black, black deed, but so Opechancanough had planned. Treacherywas his only strength.

This spring a guerilla warfare was waged by both sides. Blood-houndswere trained to trail the Indians. Mastiffs were trained to pull themdown. But the colonists needed crops; without planted fields theywould starve. The governor proposed a peace, that both parties mightplant their corn. When the corn in the Indians' fields had ripened,and was being gathered, the settlers made their treacherous attack, inturn. They killed without mercy, destroyed the Indians' supplies, andbelieved that they had slain Opechancanough.

There was much rejoicing, but Opechancanough still lived, in goodhealth. He had been too clever for the trap.

Rarely seen, himself, by the settlers, he continued to direct themovements of his warriors. He refused to enter the settlements. Neveryet had he visited Jamestown. Governors came and went, butOpechancanough remained, unyielding.

He was eighty-seven when, in 1630, a truce was patched up, that bothsides might rest a little. So far the Indians had had somewhat thebest of the fighting; the colonists had not driven them to a safedistance.

The white men were growing stronger, the red men were improving not atall, and Opechancanough knew that the truce would surely be broken. Hestayed aloof nine years, waiting, while the colonists grew careless.At last they quarreled among themselves.

This was his chance. From the Chickahominies and the Pamunkeys theword was spread to the other tribes. The second of his plans ripened.Opechancanough had so aged that he was unable to walk. He set the dayof April 18, 1644, as the time for the general attack. He ordered hiswarriors to bear him upon the field in a litter, at the head of fiveunited tribes.

Again the vengeful league of the Powatans burst upon the settlers inVirginia. From the mouth of the James River back inland over a spaceof six hundred square miles, war ravaged for two days; three hundredand more settlers were killed, two hundred were made captives, homesand supplies were burned to ashes.

It looked as though nothing would stand before Opechancanough—indeed,as though the end of Virginia had come. But in the midst of thepillage the work suddenly was stopped, the victorious Indians fled andcould not be rallied. They were frightened, it is said, by a bad signin the sky.

Governor Sir William Berkeley called out every twentieth man and boy ofthe home-guard militia, and by horse and foot and dog pursued.

Next we may see the sachem Opechancanough, in his one hundredth year,borne hither-thither in his bough litter, by his warriors, directingthem how to retreat, where to fight, and when to retreat again. Hesuffered severely from hunger and storm and long marches, until thebones ridged his flabby skin, he had lost all power over his muscles,and his eyelids had to be lifted with the fingers before he could gazebeyond them.

Governor Berkeley and a squadron of horsem*n finally ran him down andcaptured him. They took him, by aid of his litter-bearers, toJamestown.

He was a curious sight, for Jamestown. By orders of the governor, hewas well treated, on account of his great age, and his courageousspirit. The governor planned to remove him to England, as token of thehealthfulness of the Virginia climate.

But all this made little difference to Opechancanough. He had warred,and had lost; now he expected to be tortured and executed. He was soold and worn, and so stern in his pride of chiefship, that he did notcare. He had been a sachem before the English arrived, and he was asachem still. Nobody heard from his set lips one word of complaint, orfear, or pleading. Instead, he spoke haughtily. He rarely wouldpermit his lids to be lifted, that he might look about him.

His faithful Indian servants waited upon him. One day a soldier of theguard wickedly shot him through the back.

The wound was mortal, but the old chief gave not a twinge; his seamedface remained as stern and firm as if of stone. He had resolved thathis enemies should see in him a man.

Only when, toward the end, he heard a murmur and scuff of feet aroundhim, did he arouse. He asked his nurses to lift his eyelids for him.This was done. He coldly surveyed the people who had crowded into theroom to watch him die.

He managed to raise himself a little.

"Send in to me the governor," he demanded angrily.

Governor Berkeley entered.

"It is time," rebuked old Opechancanough. "For had it been my fortuneto have taken Sir William Berkeley prisoner, I should not have exposedhim as a show to my people."

Then Opechancanough died, a chief and an enemy to the last.

CHAPTER IV

KING PHILIP THE WAMPANOAG (1662-1676)

THE TERROR OF NEW ENGLAND

While in Virginia the white colonists were hard put to it by thePowatans, the good ship Mayflower had landed the Puritan PilgrimFathers on the Massachusetts Bay shore to the north, among thePokanokets.

The Po-kan-o-kets formed another league, like the league of thePowatans. There were nine tribes, holding a section of southeasternMassachusetts and of water-broken eastern Rhode Island.

The renowned Massasoit of the Wam-pa-no-ag tribe was the grand sachem.In Rhode Island, on the east shore of upper Narragansett Bay was theroyal seat of Montaup, or Mount Hope, at the village Pokanoket.

Great was the sachem Mas-sa-so-it, who ruled mildly but firmly, and wasto his people a father as well as a chief.

Of his children, two sons were named Wamsutta and Metacomet. They wererenamed, in English, Alexander and Philip, by the governor of thiscolony of Plymouth.

Alexander was the elder. He had married Wetamoo, who was the youngsquaw sachem of the neighboring village of Pocasset, to the east.Philip married her sister, Woo-to-ne-kau-ske.

[Illustration: King Philip (missing from book)]

When late in 1661 the sage Massasoit died, Alexander became grandsachem of the Pokanoket league.

Now the long reign of Massasoit had been broken. With him out of theway, certain hearts, jealous of the Wampanoags and their alliance withthe English, began to stir up trouble for the new sachem. Theyreported him as planning a revolt against Plymouth Colony.

There may have been some truth in this. The Puritans were a stern,strict people, who kept what they had seized, and who constantly addedmore. To them the Indians were heathens and inferiors; not freeallies, but subjects of the king of England.

Before the landing of the Pilgrims in the Indians' territory, sailingships, touching at the New England shore, had borne Indians away intoslavery. Since the landing of the Pilgrims, the Pequots had beencrushed in battle, and Captain Miles Standish had applied knife andrope to other Indians.

So some doubts as to the wisdom of Massasoit's treaty with the Englishbegan to spread through the Pokanokets.

The Plymouth officers ordered Alexander to appear at court and answerthe charges against him. When he delayed, Major Josiah Winslow wassent to get him. The major took ten armed men, and proceeded for MountHope. On the way he found Alexander and party in a hunting lodge,their guns leaning outside.

The major seized the guns. With pistol in hand he demanded thatAlexander come with him, or die. Alexander claimed that he was asachem and free ruler, not a dog. He "fell into a raging passion." Hehad a proper pride, and a fierce temper.

He agreed to go, as a sachem attended by his own followers. The chargeagainst him never was pressed, because his rage and shame at the insultthrew him into a fever, from which he soon died.

He had reigned only a few months. In this year 1662 Philip orMetacomet took his place as grand sachem of the Pokanokets. The deathof his brother grieved him. Wetamoo, the young widow, said thatAlexander had been poisoned by his captors, the English. The storycounted, and the fate of Alexander was not a pleasant story, to thePokanokets.

Philip saw trouble ahead. His neighbors the Narragansetts had longbeen at outs with the English. In his father's reign their old chiefMi-an-to-no-mah had been handed over by the Puritans of Connecticut toChief Uncas of the Mohegans for execution in the Indian way. TheNarragansetts were friendly with the Pokanokets; they rather lookedupon Philip as their adopted leader.

His lands were rapidly going, the English were rapidly spreading, thePuritan laws and religion were being forced upon him. It was gallingthat he, a king by his own right, should be made a subject of anotherking whom he had never seen.

The New England colonists could not forget how the Virginia colonistshad been surprised and killed by the Powatans. They watched KingPhilip closely. In 1671 he was said to be complaining that certain ofthem were trespassing on his hunting grounds. This led to the reportthat his people were holding councils, and were repairing their gunsand sharpening their hatchets, as if for war.

So King Philip, like his brother King Alexander, was summoned to thePuritan court, to be examined. He had not forgotten the treatment ofAlexander. He went, but he filled half the town meeting-house with hisarmed warriors.

There he denied that war was planned against the English. He waspersuaded to sign a paper which admitted his guilt and bound him todeliver up all his guns.

He decided not to do this latter thing. To give up his guns wouldleave him bare to all enemies.

He was made to sign other papers, until little by little the Pokanoketsseemed to have surrendered their rights, except their guns. The whitepeople, and not Philip, ruled them.

Then, in the first half of 1675 the affair of John Sassamon occurred.

John Sassamon was an educated Indian who had returned to theWampanoags, after preaching. He spoke English, and was used by KingPhilip at Mount Hope as secretary. He thought that he had found outwar plans, and he carried the secrets to Plymouth.

The Indian law declared that he should die. In March his body wasdiscovered under the ice of a pond of Plymouth Colony. His neck hadbeen broken.

To the Pokanoket idea, this had been legal execution ordered by thesachem. The English called it a murder. They arrested three of KingPhilip's men. These were tried in court before a jury of twelvecolonists and five Indians. They were found guilty. Two were hanged,the third was shot.

That was the end of peace. Miantonomah of the Narragansetts had beenhanded over by the colonists to the law of the Mohegans, but when thePokanokets tried a similar law against a traitor, they had beenpunished. King Philip could no longer hold back his young men.

He had been working hard, in secret, to enlist all the New Englandtribes in a league greater than the league of Opechancanough, and byone stroke clean New England of the white colonists. The time set wasthe next year, 1676. The Narragansetts had promised then to have readyfour thousand warriors.

But when the word from the English court was carried to Pokanoket, thatthe three prisoners were to be killed, and that Philip himself waslikely to be tried, the warriors of the Wampanoags broke their promiseto wait.

They danced defiantly. They openly sharpened their knives and hatchetsupon the stone window-sills of settlers' houses, and made sport of theEnglish.

A sudden cold fear spread through New England. A blood-red cloudseemed to be hovering over. Signs were seen in the sky—a great Indianbow, a great Indian scalp, racing horsem*n; a battle was heard, withboom of cannon and rattle of muskets and whistling of bullets. Thepious Puritans ordered a fast day, for public prayer, in the hope thatGod would stay the threatened scourge.

Upon that very day, June 24,1675, the war burst into flame. At thetown of Swansea, Massachusetts, near the Rhode Island border, and thenearest settlement to Mount Hope, a Wampanoag was wounded by an angeredcolonist. The Indians were glad. They believed that the party whoseblood was shed first would be victors. The colonists returning fromtown meeting were fired upon; that day seven were killed and severalwounded. King Philip's young men had acted without orders.

When King Philip heard, he wept. He was not yet ready for the war, butnow he had to fight. He had at hand sixty Wampanoag men of fightingage; all the Pokanoket league numbered six hundred warriors. Againstthese could be mustered thousands of the colonists, whose ninety townsextended through Massachusetts, and Connecticut, and into present RhodeIsland. Therefore he must act swiftly, or his cause was lost. Alldepended upon his appeal to the inland tribes on the north.

The powerful Narragansetts, his neighbors on the west, were notprepared, and sent no warriors at once; but certain of the other tribesdid respond with gun and hatchet and fire.

Before the colonists could rally under a skillful leader, the forces ofKing Philip were successful. He had plenty of guns and ammunition.Town after town in Plymouth Colony of southeastern Massachusetts waslaid in ashes by fierce surprise attacks. The scene shifted to westernMassachusetts. The Nipmucks of the Connecticut River, there, aided inthe dreadful work.

Throughout the summer and fall of 1675 all settled Massachusetts rangwith the war-whoops of the Pokanokets and their allies. King Philipproved himself a master in Indian warfare to strike, and run, andstrike again. In this one brief space he earned his title, the Terrorof New England, not only because of his first successes, but alsobecause during the span of more than a year no Englishman recognizedhis voice in battle, and only once was his face seen by his enemies.

Long after the war his name was used for frightening children.

"King Philip is coming!" And the naughtiest child would quiet and seekhis mother's skirt.

Although tortures and brutal killings were committed, King Philiphimself opposed this. Many stories are told of his kindness tocaptives. He showed fully as much mercy as the colonists did.

Some tribes had failed to help. The Mohegans under Uncas enlisted withthe English, which was expected. The "praying Indians," as theChristianized Pokanokets were known, also either stayed aloof, or elsewere used as scouts against their people. The New Hampshire Indiansrefused to take up the hatchet, and the Narragansetts still hung back.

King Philip's own home of Pokanoket or Mount Hope had of course earlybeen seized by the English troops. They had planned to keep him fromescaping to the mainland in the north. But he easily moved his menout, by way of the narrow neck that connected with the mainland.

Now he was a roamer, until in this winter of 1675 he decided to stayamong the Narragansetts, in southern Rhode Island, and renew his league.

To compel the Narragansetts to deliver over the King Philip people, anarmy of fifteen hundred was raised by Massachusetts, Plymouth andConnecticut colonies.

South Rhode Island was then an Indian wilderness, heavily timbered anddeep with swamps. Near present South Kingston, in the Narragansettcountry, upon a meadow upland amidst a dense swamp Philip had built afort containing five hundred wigwams. He had built well.

The only entrance from the swamp was defended by a high log fence orseries of palisades. In addition, around a space of five acres he hadlaid a thick hedge of felled trees. A single log bridged the waterseparating the fort from the drier land beyond. The wigwams were madebullet-proof by great stores of supplies piled against their walls,inside.

It was reported that he had three thousand persons in the fort—thesebeing his Pokanokets, and many Narragansett men, women and children.The place was called Sunke-Squaw.

Treachery it was that broke the power of King Philip. An Indian namedPeter sought the English and offered to show them how to get in. Aftera long march amidst bitter cold and driving snow, they arrived at oneo'clock in the afternoon of December 19. They were short ofprovisions, and very weary. For a time matters went ill with them.Again and again their attacking parties were swept from the single logthat Peter the traitor had showed to them. A number of officers andmen had fallen, before, pressing hard, with night at hand, a partysucceeded in entering the fort.

Here the hot fight passed from wigwam to wigwam. Some of the Englishwere killed by balls from their own soldiers. Through all the swampthe battle raged.

"They run, they run!" sounded the loud cries, from the English withinthe fort. Their comrades on the outside hastened—scrambling, wading,straddling the log or knee-deep in the half frozen mire.

Indian women and children and warriors had taken refuge in the wigwams.Torches were applied, burning them or driving them out to be shot down.Officers tried to prevent the burning of the wigwams, in order to savethe provisions, but the fire spread.

So by night the fort was in ruins. The Indians were killed, capturedor fleeing. Seven hundred had been killed by bullet and sword, threehundred more perished by cold and hunger and wounds; how many old men,women and children had burned to death, no one knew. But a third ofthe Narragansett nation had been slain or taken captive, and of thePokanokets only a remnant was left.

Eighty killed, was the report of the Connecticut troops alone. Therewere one hundred and fifty men grievously wounded. As the soldiers haddestroyed the fort and its provisions, they had no shelter. Through afurious snowstorm they made a miserable night march of eighteen milesbefore even the wounded could be attended to.

King Philip was now a fugitive, but he was by no means done fighting.He removed to the interior of Massachusetts—it is said that hetraveled clear to the Mohawks of New York, and asked their aid in thiswar against the English. He did not get it.

From January on into the summer of 1676 the war-whoop, the gun-shot andthe torch again terrified the colonies. Aided by a few allies, KingPhilip was making his last great effort. He carried the war to withintwenty miles of Boston. Of ninety towns in New England, thirteen hadbeen burned; six hundred buildings had been leveled in smoke, and sixhundred arms-bearing colonists killed.

"These were the most distressing days that New England ever beheld,"reads a record. "All was fear and consternation. Few there were, whowere not in mourning for some near kindred, and nothing but horrorstared them in the face."

Presently Captain Benjamin Church, as noted in New England as KitCarson is in the West, was upon the sachem's trail. He was a skilledIndian-fighter; he knew King Philip's haunts, and all the Indian ways.

There was no let-up by Captain Church. Some captives he turned intoscouts, so that they helped him against their former chief; the moredangerous he shot or hanged. To the English notion, these hostileIndians were rebels against the government and deserved no mercy.Other captives, especially women and children, were sent to the WestIndies as slaves.

Soon King Philip's allies began to desert him. They saw no hope oflasting victory; they accused King Philip of persuading them into auseless war, and either scattered or went over to the English.

Among the deserters was Queen Awashonks, squaw sachem of the Sogkonatetribe of the Pokanoket league. Her country lay in the southeast cornerof Rhode Island. When Philip had heard that the Sog-ko-nates werehelping Captain Church to trail him down, he is said to have smilednever again.

Chief Canonchet, great leader of the Narragansetts, was captured andexecuted. Thus another nail was driven into King Philip's fate.

Of Queen Wetamoo's three hundred warriors, twenty-six remained; theywere betrayed by one of their own number, and captured, and Wetamoo wasdrowned in flight.

These deaths saddened Philip, but the many desertions blackened hishorizon and he knew that he was doomed.

By midsummer he was fleeing from spot to spot, with Captain Church hardafter. He had only a handful of Pokanokets and scarcely moreNarragansetts with him. Although frequently attacking, he himself wasnever sighted. The English accused him of hiding in cowardly fashion,but he well knew that with his death or capture the war would be ended.Only the name King Philip supported it still.

Toward the close of July he had been forced south, to his own Wampanoagcountry of Mount Hope and Pocasset. In a sally north into southernMassachusetts he was surprised, on Sunday, July 30, and his unclekilled and his sister taken prisoner.

The next morning there came in haste from Plymouth the doughty CaptainChurch, aided by Queen Awashonks's men. Where a tree had been felledfor a bridge of escape across the Taunton River thirty miles south ofBoston, he espied, on the opposite bank, an Indian sitting alone upon astump.

The captain aimed and would have fired, but his Indian companion said:"No. I think him one of our own men." The Indian upon the stumpslowly turned his head; the captain saw that he was King Philip withhis hair cut short.

At the fall of the gun hammer King Philip leaped from the stump, andplunging down a steep bank, was gone.

Captain Church crossed the river in pursuit, but did not catch him.

The next day he came upon the beaten sachem's forlorn camp. There hecaptured Philip's wife, Woo-to-ne-kau-ske, and their little boy of nineyears.

The end of King Philip was very near. His relatives, even hissister-in-law, Wetamoo, had died; his friends had deserted him; hisremaining family were in the hands of his enemies.

"You now have made Philip ready to die, for you have made him as poorand miserable as he used to make the English," Captain Church's Indianscouts praised. "You have now killed or taken all his relations. Thisbout has almost broken his heart, and you will soon have his head."

The head of King Philip was indeed the prize. His escape north wasbarred by a "great English army"; his flight southward into RhodeIsland was limited by the sea. His "kenneling places" (as they werestyled perhaps because of the dog's life that he was leading) wereconstantly betrayed, and his force of true-hearts was melting like thesnows. But he received no offer of mercy. None was sent, and he askedfor none.

He doubled and twisted in vain, and tried an ambush. Captain Churcheasily side-stepped this; and with only thirty English and twentyIndian scouts, in two days killed or captured one hundred andseventy-three more of the Philip people. Assuredly, King Philip wasgrowing weak. He might have listened to terms, but in those stern daysterms were not made with rebels, especially with troublesome Indianswho were assumed to be children of Satan.

Captain Church, urged on by the Plymouth government, closed in farther.Now died two of King Philip's remaining captains. Sam Barrow, "asnoted a rogue as any among the enemy," was captured, and sentenced atonce to death, by Captain Church. He was an old man, but a hatchet wassunk into his head.

Chief Totoson, with his eight-year boy and old wife, escaped andreached Agawom, his former home. His little son fell sick; his ownheart "became a stone within him, and he died." His old wife threwsome brush and leaves over his body, and soon she, also, died. Thuswas the Totoson family disposed of.

Only old Annawan, Philip's greatest captain, was left with him. Theytwo, and their miserable band of men, women and children, sought lastrefuge at the abandoned Mount Hope. Here they were, back again,defeated, with nowhere else to turn.

On the morning of August 10 Captain Church was home, also, visiting hiswife. He lived on the island of Rhode Island, in Narragansett Bay andseparated by only a narrow strait from Mount Hope, on the north.

There he had word, in much haste, that one of King Philip's men waswaiting, to guide him to a swamp where the sachem might be killed.

The name of the King Philip man was Alderman, in English. His brotherhad proposed to King Philip that they all surrender, and King Philiphad struck him dead. So revenge burned in Alderman's heart, and heturned traitor. He was of the Queen Wetamoo people, but had desertedher, also.

Upon getting word of King Philip's whereabouts, so near at hand,Captain Church kissed his wife goodby, and gladly mounted his horseagain—hoping, he said, "by tomorrow morning to have the rogue's head."

This night Alderman guided the captain's force truly. They had not farto go—only a dozen or so miles up the Mount Hope peninsula, to thenarrow neck. The captain was well acquainted with the exact spot: alittle isle of dry land in the midst of the swamp.

On the morning of August 12 he had his men arranged silently. CaptainGolding was given the "honor of beating up Philip's headquarters."With a picked party, crawling on their bellies, he entered, to surprisethe little isle, and drive out the game.

Throughout the swamp the other men were placed, two (a white man and anIndian) by two, behind trees, "that none might pass undiscovered."When the enemy should be started in flight, then all the attackingparty were to make a great noise. Every figure moving without noisewas to be fired upon by the ambuscade.

There were not quite enough men to complete the circle of theambuscade. However, Captain Church took his aide, Major Sanford, bythe hand, and said: "Sir, I have so placed the men that it is scarcepossible Philip should escape them." There was no thought of sparingKing Philip's life. He was an outlaw.

Just as the captain finished his hopeful speech, a gun-shot echoedthrough the misty gray. Captain Golding's men had come upon oneIndian, and had fired, and then had poured a volley into the sleepingcamp.

Again from the harried band rose the cry "Awannux! Awannux! (English!English!)" and into the swamp they plunged.

Caleb Cook and Alderman the guide had been stationed together behind atree. At the first gun-shot, says the Captain Church story, KingPhilip "threw his petunk (shot pouch) and powder-horn over his head,catched up his gun, and ran as fast as he could scamper, without anymore clothes than his small-breeches and stockings."

And here he came, directly for the tree. The two behind it let himcome "fair within shot." Then Caleb took the first fire upon him. Butthe gun only flashed in the pan. He bade the Indian fire away, andAlderman did so true to purpose; sent one musket bullet through KingPhilip's heart, and another not above two inches from it. The gun hadbeen loaded with two balls.

King Philip "fell upon his face in the mud and the water, with his gununder him." He was dead, at last, on the soil of his long-time homeland from which he had sallied to do battle in vain.

"By this time," reads the Captain Church story, "the enemy perceivedthat they were waylaid on the east side of the swamp, and tacked shortabout. One of the enemy, who seemed to be a great, surly old fellow,hallooed with a loud voice, and often called out, 'I-oo-tash,I-oo-tash.' Captain Church called to his Indian, Peter, and asked himwho that was that called so? He answered, that it was old Annawan,Philip's great captain, calling on his soldiers to stand to it andfight stoutly. Now the enemy finding that place of the swamp which wasnot ambushed, many of them made their escape in the English tracks."

When the pursuit had quit, Captain Church let his men know that KingPhilip had been killed, and they gave three cheers.

Then the captain ordered the body to be pulled out of the mud. So someof the Indians "took hold of him by his stockings, and some by hissmall breeches (being otherwise naked) and drew him through the mud tothe upland; and a doleful, great, naked, dirty beast he looked like,"according to their opinion.

"Forasmuch as you have caused many an Englishman's body to be unburied,and to rot above ground, not one of your bones shall be buried,"pronounced Captain Church. And he ordered an old Indian, who acted asexecutioner, to behead and quarter King Philip.

But before he struck with the hatchet, the old Indian also made alittle speech, to the body.

"You have been a very great man," he said, "and have made many a manafraid of you; but so big as you are, I will now chop you up."

And so he did.

King Philip was known not only by his face, but by a mangled hand inwhich a pistol had burst. His head and his crippled hand were awardedto Alderman, who had betrayed him; Alderman was told to exhibit themthrough New England, if he wished, as a traveling show. He gained manyshillings in fees.

The four quarters of King Philip were hung to the branches of a tree.The head was stuck upon a gibbet at Plymouth for twenty years. Thehand was kept at Boston. Caleb Cook traded with Alderman for KingPhilip's gun; and King Philip's wife and little boy were sold as slavesin the West Indies.

Now the Terror of New England had been subdued. He had been leadingsuch a sorry life, of late, that no doubt he was glad to be done, andto have fallen in his stride and not in chains. His age is not stated.

Thus peace came to the colony of Plymouth in Massachusetts, and KingPhilip had few left to mourn for him, until, after a season, even someof the English writers, their spirit softened, began to grant that hemight have been as much a patriot as a traitor.

In another century, the colonists themselves rebelled against agovernment which they did not like.

CHAPTER V

THE SQUAW SACHEM OF POCASSET (1675-1676)]

AND CANONCHET OF THE BIG HEART

When King Philip had planned his war, he well knew that he might dependupon Wetamoo, the squaw sachem of Pocasset.

After the death of the luckless Alexander, Wetamoo married a PocassetIndian named Petananuit. He was called by the English "Peter Nunnuit."This Peter Nunnuit appears to have been a poor sort of a husband, forhe early deserted to the enemy, leaving his wife to fight alone.

Wetamoo was not old. She was in the prime of life, and as an Indianwas beautiful. Not counting her faithless husband, only one of herPocassets had abandoned her. He was that same Alderman who betrayedand killed King Philip.

In the beginning Queen Wetamoo had mustered three hundred warriors.She stuck close to King Philip, and fought in his ranks. She probablywas in the fatal Narragansett fort when it was stormed and taken, onDecember 19, 1675. The English much desired to seize her, for herlands of Pocasset "would more than pay all the charge" of the war. Shewas considered as being "next unto Philip in respect to the mischiefthat hath been done."

But she was not taken in the fort among the Narragansetts. She fledwith King Philip her brother-in-law, and warred that winter and spring,as he did, against the settlements in Massachusetts.

Truly a warrior queen she was, and so she remained to the last, everloyal to the losing cause of her grand sachem, and to the memory ofAlexander.

With Philip she was driven southward, back toward her home of Pocasset,east of Mount Hope. By the first week in August of 1676, she had onlytwenty-six men left, out of her three hundred.

Then there came to the colonists at Taunton, which lay up the riverTaunton from Pocasset, another deserter, with word that he could leadthem to the little Wetamoo camp, not far southward.

Twenty armed English descended upon her, August 6, and easily overcameher camp. She alone escaped, in flight. She had no thought ofsurrendering herself into slavery.

In making her way to Pocasset, she "attempted," reads the tale, "to getover a river or arm of the sea near by, upon a raft, or some pieces ofbroken wood; but whether tired and spent with swimming, or starved withcold and hunger, she was found stark naked in Metapoiset [near presentSwansea of southern Massachusetts, at the Rhode Island line], not farfrom the water side, which made some think she was first half drowned;and so ended her wretched life."

No respect was paid to her. Her head was cut off and hoisted upon apole in the town of Taunton, as revenge for the similar beheading ofsome English bodies, earlier in the war. When, in Taunton, thePocasset captives saw the head—"They made a most horrid and diabolicallamentation, crying out that it was their queen's head."

Here let us close the melancholy story of the warrior queen Wetamoo,who as the companion-in-arms of her sachem sought to avenge herhusband's death, as well as to save her country from the foreigner.However, Wetamoo and Philip together dragged the once mightyNarragansetts down. This brings to the surface the tale of Canonchet,the big-hearted.

The Narragansetts were a large and warlike people, and hard fighters.Their country covered nearly all present Rhode Island; the city ofProvidence was founded in their midst, when the great preacher RogerWilliams sought refuge among them. They conquered other tribes to thenorth and west. When King Philip rose in 1675 they numbered, ofthemselves, five thousand people, and could put into the field twothousand warriors.

In the beginning, under their noble sachem Can-on-i-cus, they werefriendly to the English colonists. While Roger Williams lived amongthem they stayed friendly. They agreed to a peace with SachemMassasoit's Pokanokets, who occupied the rest of Rhode Island, eastacross Narragansett Bay. They marched with the English and theMohegans to wipe out the hostile Pequots.

Canonicus died, and Mi-an-to-no-mah, his nephew, who had helped himrule, became chief sachem. Miantonomah was famed in council and inwar. The colonies suspected him, as they did Alexander, son ofMassasoit. They favored the Mohegans of the crafty sachem Uncas. WhenMiantonomah had been taken prisoner by Uncas, at the battle of Sachem'sPlain in Connecticut, 1643, the United Colonies of Connecticut,Massachusetts and Plymouth directed that the Mohegans put him to death,as a treaty breaker.

Accordingly Uncas ordered him killed by the hatchet, and ate a piece ofhis shoulder.

Possibly Miantonomah deserved to die, but the hearts of theNarragansetts grew very sore.

It is scarcely to be wondered at that they favored the Pokanoketsrather than the English, when King Philip, who also had suffered,called upon them to aid in cleaning the land of the white enemy."Brothers, we must be as one, as the English are, or we shall soon allbe destroyed," had said Miantonomah, in a speech to a distant tribe;and that looked to be so.

Ca-non-chet, whose name in Indian was Qua-non-chet (pronounced thesame), and Nan-un-te-noo, was son of the celebrated Miantonomah. Hewas now chief sachem of the Narragansetts, and the friend of KingPhilip.

He was a tall, strongly built man, and accused by the English of beinghaughty and insolent. Why not? He was of proud Narragansett blood,from the veins of a long line of great chiefs, and the English hadgiven his father into the eager hands of the enemy.

Presently, he was asked to sign treaties that would make him false tothe memory of Miantonomah and double-hearted toward the hopeful KingPhilip.

The papers engaged the Narragansetts not to harbor any of King Philip'speople, nor to help them in any way against the English, nor to enter awar without the permission of the English. He was to deliver thePhilip and Wetamoo people, when they came to him.

Canonchet was not that kind of a man. He had no idea of betrayingpeople who may have fled to him for shelter from a common enemy. A fewof his men feared. It was suggested to him that he yield to thecolonies, lest the Narragansetts be swallowed up by the English. Hereplied like a chief, and the son of Miantonomah.

"Deliver the Indians of Philip? Never! Not a Wampanoag will I evergive up! No! Not the paring of a Wampanoag's nail!"

The venerable Roger Williams, his friend, the friend of his father andthe friend of the long-dead Canonicus, had advised him to stay out ofthe war.

"Massachusetts," said Roger Williams, "can raise thousands of men atthis moment; and if you kill them, the king of England will supplytheir place as fast as they fall."

"It is well," replied Canonchet. "Let them come. We are ready forthem. But as for you, Brother Williams, you are a good man; you havebeen kind to us many years. We shall burn the English in their houses,but not a hair of your head shall be touched."

The colonies did not wait for Canonchet to surrender the King Philippeople. The treaty had been signed on October 28, and on November 2 anarmy from Connecticut, Massachusetts and Plymouth was ordered out, tomarch against the Narragansetts, and seize King Philip and QueenWetamoo, and punish Canonchet.

It was known that Queen Wetamoo was with Canonchet, but not certainlythat King Philip had "kenneled" there. At any rate, down marched theEnglish, their Mohegan and Pequot allies, all piloted by one Peter whomight have been the husband of Wetamoo herself, but who probably was aNarragansett traitor.

Canonchet stood firm. To his notion, he was not obliged to surrenderanybody, while the English held his brother and three otherNarragansetts. Besides—"Deliver the Indians of Philip? No! Not theparing of a Wampanoag's nail!"

On the afternoon of December 19, this year 1675, the bold English andtheir allies struck the great fortified village at Sunke-Squaw. Outfrom the heat and smudge of the blazing wigwams fled Philip and Wetamooand Canonchet, with their shrieking people, into the wintry swamp wherethe snowy branches of the cedars and hemlocks were their only refuge.Canonchet had lost a third of his nation; large numbers surrendered tothe English; but, like his friend Philip, with his warriors whor*mained true he carried the war to the English themselves. And aterrible war it was.

In March Captain William Peirse was sent out with seventy stout men tomarch from Plymouth and head off the raging Narragansetts. Plymouthhad heard that the haughty young sachem Canonchet was on his way toPlymouth, at the van of three hundred warriors.

Captain Peirse made his will and marched southward, to the PawtucketRiver not far above Providence. Canonchet's spies had marked him, andCanonchet was ready.

On March 26, which was a Sunday, Captain Peirse saw upon the other sideof the river a party of Indians limping as if worn out and trying toget away. Therefore he crossed, near the Pawtucket Falls, in gladpursuit—and "no sooner was he upon the western side, than the warriorsof Nanuntenoo, like an avalanche from a mountain, rushed down upon him;nor striving for coverts from which to fight, more than their foes,fought them face to face with the most determined bravery!"

There were Narragansetts still upon the east side of the river, also,to cut off retreat. The captain, fighting desperately, with his menranged in two ranks back to back, sent a runner to Providence, only sixor eight miles, for assistance; but so quickly was the work done, byCanonchet, that of all the English force, only one Englishman escaped,and not above a dozen of the scouts.

"Captain Peirse was slain, and forty and nine English with him, andeight (or more) Indians who did assist the English."

Canonchet lost one hundred and forty, but it was a great victory, wellplanned and well executed. Captain Peirse had been a leader in thestorming of the Narragansett fort at Sunke-Squaw, the last winter; thatis one reason why the Canonchet warriors fought so ravenously, to takerevenge.

On the day after the dreadful battle, from Connecticut, southwest,there marched a larger force of English and friendly Indians, to closethe red trail of the Sachem Canonchet. He was feared as much as KingPhilip was feared.

Canonchet did not proceed against Plymouth. With thirty volunteers hehad set out south for the Mount Hope region itself, in order to gatherseed corn. The abandoned fields of the English along the ConnecticutRiver waited. They ought to be planted to Indian corn.

On his way back to the Connecticut River with his seed corn, near theclose of the first week in April he made camp almost upon the verybattle ground above Providence, where yet the soil was stained by theblood of March 26.

He did not know that now the enemy were upon his trail indeed; but atthe moment a company of fifty English under Captain George Denison ofSoutherton, Connecticut, and eighty Indians—the Mohegans led by ChiefOneka, son of Uncas, the Pequots by Cas-sa-sin-na-mon, the Niantics(formerly allies of the Narragansetts) by Cat-a-pa-zet—were drawingnear.

Three other companies were in the neighborhood.

This day Canonchet was lying in his blanket, telling to a party ofseven warriors the story of the battleground. The other warriors werescattered through the forest. Two sentries had been placed upon a hill.

Not far away the Captain Denison party already had killed one warrior,and had seized two old squaws. The squaws confessed that Nanuntenoowas yonder, the Indian scouts picked up the fresh trail, the Denisonmen hastened at best speed.

In the midst of his story, Canonchet saw his two sentinels dashheadlong past the wigwam, "as if they wanted for time to tell what theyhad seen." At once he sent a third man, to report upon what was thematter. This third man likewise suddenly made off at full pace,without a word. Then two more he sent; of these, one, returningbreathless, paused long enough to say that "all the English army wasupon him!"

"Whereupon, having no time to consult, and but little time to attemptan escape, and no means to defend himself, he began to fly with allspeed. Running with great swiftness around the hill, to get out ofsight upon the opposite side, he was distinguished by his warypursuers," and they were hot after him.

In fact, running hard around the hill, Canonchet wellnigh ran into theNiantics of Chief Catapazet, who were coming down right over the hill.He swerved, at the view-halloo, and lengthened his stride. Some of theEnglish had joined the chase. Canonchet tore like a deer for the river.

They had not recognized him, for he was wearing his blanket. But sohotly they pressed him, that he needs must cast aside his blanket.This revealed to them his fine lace-embroidered coat, which had beengiven to him as a bribe, at Boston last October. Now they knew that hewas a chief, and a personage, and they yelled louder, and ran faster.

Presently Canonchet stripped off his lacy coat, and dropped it. Andsoon loosening his belt of wampum, he dropped that also. By thischief's belt they knew that he was the great Canonchet, and fasterstill they ran.

However, he was out-footing all except one Indian. That Indian was aPequot named Monopoide—the best runner of all, and better thanCanonchet himself.

With only a single pursuer to be feared, Canonchet turned sharply andleaped into the river, to cross by a strange trail. As he splashedthrough, wading find plunging, seeing escape close before him if hecould gain the opposite bank, he stumbled upon a stone. Fallingforward he not only lost valuable time but soused his gun.

"At that accident," he afterward said, "my heart and bowels turnedwithin me so that I became like a rotten stick, void of strength."

Before he might stand straight and fix his useless gun, with a whoop oftriumph the lucky Pequot, Monopoide, was upon him; grabbed him by hisshoulder within thirty rods of the shore.

The Pequot was not a large man, nor a strong warrior. Canonchet wasboth, and might yet have fought loose, to liberty. But he had made uphis mind to quit. He offered no trouble; the guns of the pursuingparty were covering him again, and he obeyed the orders.

He did not break his silence until young Robert Staunton, first of theEnglish to reach him, asked him questions. This was contrary to Indianusage. Canonchet looked upon him disdainfully.

"You much child. No understand matters of war, Let your brother orchief come; him I will answer."

Robert's brother, John Staunton, was captain of one of the Connecticutcompanies that had been sent out to find the Narragansetts; butCanonchet was now turned over to Captain Denison.

He was offered his life if he would help the English. This broughtfrom him a glare of rebuke.

He was offered his life if he would send orders to his people to makepeace.

"Say no more about that," he replied. "I will not talk of peace. I donot care to talk at all. I was born a sachem. If sachems come tospeak with me, I will answer; but none present being such, I amobliged, in honor to myself, to hold my tongue."

"If you do not accept the terms offered to you, you will be put todeath."

"Killing me will not end the war. There are two thousand men who willrevenge me."

"You richly deserve death. You can expect no mercy. You have saidthat you would burn the English in their houses. You have boasted thatyou would not deliver up a single Wampanoag, nor the paring of aWampanoag's nail."

"I desire to hear no more about it," replied Canonchet. "Others wereas eager in the war as myself, and many will be found of the same mind.Have not the English burned my people in their houses? Did you everdeliver up to the Narragansetts any of the Narragansetts' enemies? Whythen should I deliver up to them the Wampanoags? I would rather diethan remain prisoner. You have one of equal rank here with myself. Heis Oneka, son of Uncas. His father killed my father. Let Oneka killme. He is a sachem."

"You must die."

"I like it well. I shall die before my heart is soft, or I have saidanything of which Canonchet shall be ashamed."

Even his enemies admired him. The English compared him to some oldRoman.

He was not killed here. Forty-three of his people, men and women, hadbeen taken by the troops and scouts; a number of these were given overto death by the scout Indians. But Canonchet was borne in triumph toStonington, Connecticut.

In order to reward the friendly Indians, the Pequots were permitted toshoot him, the Mohegans to behead and to quarter him, the Niantics toburn him. As a return favor, the Indians presented the head ofCanonchet, or Nanuntenoo, to the English council at Hartford,Connecticut.

In the above fashion perished, without a plea, "in the prime of hismanhood," Canonchet of the Big Heart, last Grand Sachem of theNarragansetts. Presently only the name of his nation remained.

CHAPTER VI

THE BLOODY BELT OF PONTIAC (1760-1763)

WHEN IT PASSED AMONG THE RED NATIONS

Soon after the Mohawks broke the peace with the French and Algonkins inCanada, and in 1647 killed Piskaret the champion, they and the othersof the Five Nations drove the Hurons and Algonkins into flight.

The Hurons, styled in English Wyandots, fled clear into Michigan andspread down into northern Ohio.

Of the Algonkins there were three nations who clung together as theCouncil of the Three Fires. These were the Ottawas, the Ojibwas andthe Potawatomis.

The Ottawas were known as the "Trade People" and the "Raised Hairs."They had claimed the River Ottawa, in which was the Allumette Islandupon which Piskaret and the Adirondacks had lived.

The Ojibways were known as the "Puckered Moccasin People," from thewords meaning "to roast till puckered up." Their tanned moccasins hada heavy puckered seam. The name Ojibwa, rapidly pronounced, became inEnglish "Chippeway." As Chippeways and Chippewas have they remained.

The Potawatomis, whose name is spelled also Pottawattamis, were knownas the "Nation of Fire." They had lived the farthest westward of all,until the Sioux met them and forced them back.

The Ottawas were recorded by the early French as rude and barbarous.The Chippewas, or Ojibwas, were recorded as skillful hunters and bravewarriors. The Potawatomis were recorded as the most friendly andkind-hearted among the northern Indians.

Of these people many still exist, in Canada and the United States.

When England, aided by her American colonies, began to oppose France inthe New World in 1755, the Three Fires helped the French. They werethen holding part of present Wisconsin and all of Michigan.

Now in the fall of 1760 France had lost Canada. She was about tosurrender to England all her forts and trading posts of the UpperMississippi basin, from the Great Lakes to the Ohio River.

In November Major Robert Rogers, a noted American Ranger, of NewHampshire birth, with two hundred hardy American woodsmen in twelvewhaleboats, and with a herd of fat cattle following the shores, was onhis way from Montreal, by water, to carry the English tongue and theBritish flag to the French posts of the Great Lakes.

He had passed several posts, and was swinging around for Detroit, whena storm of sleet and rain kept him in camp amidst the thick timberwhere today stands the city of Cleveland, Ohio.

Here he was met by a party of Indians from the west, bearing a message.

"You must go no farther," they said, "Pontiac is coming. He is theking and lord of this country you are in. Wait till he can see youwith his own eyes."

That same day in the afternoon Chief Pontiac himself appeared. MajorRogers saw a dark, medium tall but very powerful Indian, aged nearfifty years, wearing not only richly embroidered clothes but also "anair of majesty and princely grandeur."

Pontiac spoke like a great chief and ruler.

"I have come to find out what you are doing in this place, and how youdare to pass through my country without my permission."

Major Rogers replied smoothly.

"I have no design against you or your people. I am here by orders fromyour new English fathers, to remove the French from your country, sothat we may trade in peace together."

And he gave the chief a pledge of wampum. Pontiac returned anotherbelt.

"I shall stand in the path you are walking, till morning," was all thathe would say; and closed the matter for the night.

During the storm of the next few days he smoked the pipe of peace withthe major, and promised safe passage for him, to Detroit.

Thus Major Rogers was the first of the English Americans to be face toface with one of the master minds of the Indian Americans.

This Pontiac was head chief not alone of the Ottawas, but of theChippewas and Potawatomis. Rumor has declared that he was born a darkCatawba of that fierce fighting nation in South Carolina, whofrequently journeyed north to fall upon the northern tribes. But hisfather probably was an Ottawa, his mother an Ojibwa.

By reason of his strong mind, and his generalship in peace and in war,he was accepted as a leader throughout all the Great Lakes country.The name and fame of Pontiac had extended far into the south and intothe east. It is said that he commanded the whole Indian force at thebloody Braddock's Field south of Pittsburg, when on July 9, 1755, theBritish regulars of General Sir William Braddock, aided by the colonialmilitia of Major George Washington, were crushed and scattered by theFrench and Indians.

Before that he had saved the French garrison of Detroit from an attackby hostile Foxes.

Having talked with Major Rogers, Pontiac sent runners to notify thevillages that the English had his permission to march through thecountry. He himself went on with the party. He astonished the majorby his shrewd questions—as to how the English waged war, how theirclothing was made, how they got iron from the ground, for their weapons.

He even stated that he was willing to form an alliance with the king ofEngland and to call him uncle; but that he must be allowed to reign ashe pleased in his own country, or "he would shut up the way and keepthe English out."

Puzzled and stung by the news that their fathers, the French, had beenbeaten in war, a great number of Ottawas, Potawatomis, Chippewas, Sacsand Wyandots gathered at old Detroit, to witness the surrender. Theycould not understand why the French should march out and lay down theirarms to such a small company of English. Evidently these English weregifted with powers that made their enemies weak.

For a brief space all went well, while the Indians of Pontiac's countrywatched, to see what kind of men these English should prove to be.

But the name of the English already was bad. These Northern tribeswell knew what had occurred in Virginia and in New England. ThePowatans, the Pokanokets, the Narragansetts and other peoples had beenwiped out, their lands seized. The English were bent upon beingmasters, not allies.

There was found to be a great difference in the methods of the French,and these English.

The French treated chiefs as equals, and tribes as brothers andchildren; lived in their lodges, ate of their food, created goodfeeling by distributing presents, interfered little with ancientcustoms, traded fairly, and forebade whiskey.

The English despised the Indians, lived apart, demanded rather thanasked, were stingy in trading, and cheated by means of liquor.

"When the Indians visited the forts, instead of being treated withattention and politeness, they were received gruffly, subjected toindignities, and not infrequently helped out of the fort with the buttof a sentry's musket or a vigorous kick from an officer."

Pontiac and his people soon saw this. The French-Canadian tradersstill at large took pains to whisper, in cunning fashion, that thegreat French king was old and had been asleep while the English werearming; but that now he had awakened, and his young men were coming torescue his red children. A fleet of great canoes was on its way up theSt. Lawrence River, to capture the Lakes, and the French and theIndians would again live together!

The Three Fires and their allies the Sacs and the Wyandots longed forthe pleasant company of their French brothers. In his village on theCanada border just across the river from Detroit, Pontiac watched these"Red Coats" for two years and found, as he thought, nothing good inthem or their cheating traders and he resolved to be rid of them all.

With the eye of a chief and a warrior he had noted, also, that theywere a foolish people. As if despising the power of the Indian, theygarrisoned their posts with only small forces, although many of theseposts were lonely spots, far separated by leagues of water and forestfrom any outside aid. Messages from one to another could be easilystopped.

The French were being allowed to remain and to move about freely. Thepeace treaty between the French and the English had not yet beensigned. No doubt the French would join the Indians in driving theinvaders from this country so rich in corn and fish and game.

Out of his brooding and his hate, Pontiac formed his plan. It was aplan like the plan of Opechancanough and King Philip, but on a largerscale. He worked at it alone, until he was prepared to set it inmotion.

Then, late in the year 1762, he sent to the eastward his runnersbearing to the Senecas a red-stained tomahawk and a Bloody Belt.

They carried the message:

"The English mean to make slaves of us, by occupying so many posts inour country. Let us try now, to recover our liberty, rather than waituntil they are stronger."

From the Senecas the Bloody Belt was passed to the Delawares of westernNew York and eastern Pennsylvania; from the Delawares to the Shawneesof western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio; from the Shawnees it waspassed westward to the Miamis, and the Wyandots of Indiana.

Several thousands of miles had the Bloody Belt traveled, when in March,of 1763, it was caught and stopped by Ensign Holmes, the youngcommander at old Fort Miami near the present city of Fort Wayne,Indiana.

He sent it back to Detroit, far northward, with a note of warning forMajor Gladwyn the commander. He believed that with the stoppage of thebelt he had checked the plan. Major Gladwyn, in turn, reported to hissuperiors that this "was a trifling matter which would blow over."

The belt may have been stopped, but not the word of Pontiac. Ittraveled on, until from Lake Superior of the Canada border down toKentucky all the tribes between the Alleghanies and the MississippiRiver were only waiting for the Day.

Vague rumors brought in by traders and friendly scouts floatedhither-thither—rumors of mysterious remarks, of secret councils, of acollecting of arms and powder, and a sharpening of knives and hatchets,even among tribes remote from the posts.

But the garrisons were not reinforced. The soldiers idled and joked,the Indians came and went as usual, gates were not closed except atnight.

A Delaware prophet was reported to be preaching death to the Red Coats.Unrest seethed, and yet could not be traced to any source. On April27, unknown to a single one of the English at the Great Lakes, ahundred strange chiefs gathered within a few miles of Detroit itself,to confer with Pontiac.

In the midst of the forest he addressed them. Here, seated in a largecircle, were Ottawas, Ojibwas, Sacs, Potawatomis, Wyandots, Senecas,Miamis, Shawnees, Foxes, Delawares, Menominis—all intent for the wordsof Pontiac.

His speech was full of fire and eloquence. He was an orator. Hereminded his brothers of their treatment by the English, and of theirbetter treatment by the French—their friends who had been ousted. Hetold them that now was the time to rise, when the war canoes of theirFrench father were on the way to re-people the land with happiness.

A prophet had been born among the Delawares, said Pontiac. The GreatSpirit had appeared to this prophet in a dream, and had demanded whythe Indians suffered the white strangers to live in this land that hehad provided with everything for the Indian's use.

Let the Indians return to the customs of their ancestors—fling awaythe blankets, the coats, the guns, the fire-water, and use again theskins, the bows, and the native foods, and be independent. "As forthese English, these dogs dressed in red, drive them from your huntinggrounds; drive them! And then when you are in distress, I will helpyou."

The day was named by Pontiac. It should date from the change of themoon, in the next month (or about May 7). At that time should beginthe work, by all the tribes, of seizing every English fort and tradingpost in the Great Lakes country and west of the Alleghany Mountains.The tribes nearest to each should attend to the matter—strike whenthey heard that he had struck Detroit.

The date and the plan were approved. The council broke up. Assilently as they had come, the chiefs went home; some by water, someafoot, and no white man knew of the meeting!

Detroit was the largest and most important of the English posts.Pontiac himself would seize this by aid of his Ottawas, somePotawatomis and Wyandots. To the Chippewas and the Sacs was given overthe next important fur-trade station, that of Mich-il-i-mac-ki-nac,north.

CHAPTER VII

THE BLOODY BELT OF PONTIAC (1763-1769)

HOW AN INDIAN GIRL SAVED FORT DETROIT

Old Fort Detroit was a stockade twenty feet high, in the form of asquare about two-thirds of a mile around. It enclosed a church andeighty or one hundred houses, mainly of French settlers with asprinkling of English traders.

In the block-houses at the corners and protecting the gates, lightcannon were mounted. The garrison consisted of only one hundred andtwenty men of the Eightieth Foot. In the village there were perhapsforty other men.

On both sides of the river lay the fertile farms of the Frenchsettlers. Back of the farms on the east or Canadian side, and aboutfive miles from Detroit, was the teeming village of Pontiac's Ottawas.Potawatomis and Wyandots also lived near. At Pontiac's call therewaited more than a thousand warriors.

The set time approached. On May 1 Pontiac and forty chiefs andwarriors entered the fort, and danced the calumet, a peace dance, forthe pleasure of their officers. Pontiac said to Major Gladwyn that hewould return, at the change of the moon, May 7, or in one week, to holda council with him, and "brighten the chain of peace with the English."

The major agreed. He was a very foolish man, for a chief. Havingreturned to his village, Pontiac called a different kind of a council,there—a war council of one hundred chiefs. They were to have theirpeople cut off the ends of muskets that should be carried concealedunder the blankets. Sixty chiefs and warriors should go with him intothe council chamber at the fort; the others should linger in thestreets of the town and at the fort gates.

He would speak to the major with a belt, white on the one side, greenon the other. When he turned the belt and presented it wrong endfirst, let every warrior kill an English soldier, beginning with theofficers. At the sound let every warrior outside the council use gunand hatchet.

On May 5 a French settler's wife crossed the river to buy maple-sugarand deer-meat at the Ottawa village. She saw the warriors busy filingat their gun-barrels—shortening the guns to scarce a yard of length.This was a curious thing to do. When she went back to the post shespoke about it.

"That," said the blacksmith, "explains why those fellows have beenborrowing all my files and hack-saws. They wouldn't tell me what for.Something's brewing."

When Major Gladwyn was informed, still he would not believe. But thefur-traders at the post insisted that when an Indian shortened his gun,he meant mischief. The opinion of fur-traders carried no weight withMajor Gladwyn, the British officer.

The next evening Catharine, a pretty Ojibwa girl who lived with thePotawatomis, came to see him in his quarters. She was his favorite.She had agreed to make him a pair of handsome moccasins, from an elkhide. Now she brought the moccasins, and the rest of the hide.

Usually she had been much pleased to look upon and talk with thehandsome young major in the red clothes. This time her face wasclouded, she hung her head, and spoke hardly at all. Her eagergirlishness had vanished. The major's delight with the moccasinsfailed to cheer her up.

Trying to win her smiles, he told her the moccasins were so beautifulthat he wished to give them to a friend. Would she take the elk-hideaway with her, and make another pair of moccasins for himself!

She finally left, with strangely slow step, and backward glances. Atsunset, when the gates of the fort were to be closed, the guard foundher still inside. As she would not go, the sergeant took word to themajor.

"She won't talk with me, sir," he reported.

"Send her in and I will talk with her," ordered the major.

Catharine came, downcast, silent, and timid.

"Why have you not gone before the gates are shut, Catharine?"

She hesitated.

"I did not wish to take away the skin that is yours."

"But you did take it away, as far as the gate."

She hesitated more.

"Yes, that is so. But if I take it outside I can never return it."

"Why not?"

"I cannot tell. I am afraid."

"You can talk freely. Nothing that you say shall go to other ears. Ifyou bring me news of value you will be well rewarded, and no one shallknow."

Catharine loved the major. Presently she told him of the mind ofPontiac, and the deed planned for tomorrow morning.

A cold fear clutched the heart of Major Gladwyn. He recalled theshortened guns, he recalled the Bloody Belt, he recalled the date madewith him for a big council on the morrow. At last he rather believed.

So he sent away the trembling Catharine, that she might go to hervillage. He held a council with his officers.

Here they were, with only one hundred and twenty soldiers, and lessthan three weeks' provisions, cut off by one thousand, two thousand,three thousand merciless Indian warriors, and by the French settlersand traders who probably would be glad to have the English killed.

"The English are to be struck down, but no Frenchman is to be harmed,"had said Catharine.

That looked bad indeed.

This night guards were doubled along the parapets, and in theblock-houses. The major himself walked guard most of the night. Fromthe distant villages of the Ottawas, the Wyandots, and the Potawatomisdrifted the clamor of dances—an ugly sound, full of meaning, now.

Precisely at ten o'clock in the morning a host of bark canoes from theOttawa side of the Detroit River slanted across the current, and madelanding. Pontiac approached at the head of a long file of thirtychiefs and as many warriors. They walked with measured, stately tread.Every man was closely wrapped in a gay blanket.

They were admitted through the gate of the fort, but it was closedagainst the mass of warriors, women and children who pressed after.

As Pontiac, with his escort, stalked for the council room, his quickglances saw that the soldiers were formed, under arms, and moving fromspot to spot, and that a double rank had been stationed around theheadquarters.

In the council chamber he noted, too, that each officer wore his sword,and two pistols!

"Why," asked Pontiac, of Major Gladwyn, "do I see so many of myfather's young men standing in the street with their guns?"

"It is best that my young men be exercised as soldiers, or they willgrow lazy and forget," answered the major.

Ha! Pontiac knew. Somehow his plans had been betrayed; his game wasup, unless he chose an open fight.

His chiefs and warriors sat uneasily. They all feared death. ByIndian law they ought to be killed for having intended to shed blood ina calumet council.

Pontiac started his talk. He acted confused, as though he was notcertain what course to pursue.

Once he did seem about to offer the belt wrong end first, as thesignal—and Major Gladwyn, still sitting, slightly raised his hand.Instantly from outside the door sounded the clash of arms and the quickroll of a drum, to show that the garrison was on the alert. Theofficers half drew their swords.

Pontiac flushed yet darker. He stammered, and offering the belt rightend first, closed his talk, and sat down again.

Major Gladwyn made a short reply. He said that the English were gladto be friends, as long as their red brothers deserved it; but any actof war would be severely punished.

That was all. The major let the Indians file out again. Pontiac knew.

He was too great a leader, in the Indian way, to be balked by onedefeat. He actually proposed another council; he actually persuadedthe foolish major to send out to him two officers, for a peace talk.One of the officers barely escaped from captivity, the other never cameback.

Then Pontiac boldly besieged Detroit, in white race fashion—theclosest, longest siege ever laid by Indians against any fort onAmerican soil.

His two thousand Indians swarmed in the forest, held the fences andwalls and buildings of the fields, peppered the palisade with bulletsand arrows, shot fire into the town; captured a supply fleet in theriver, ambushed sallying parties, cut to pieces a column ofreinforcements.

The siege lasted six months. The orders to attack went out. On May 16Fort Sandusky, at Lake Erie in northern Ohio, was seized by theWyandots and Ottawas, during a council.

On May 25, Fort St. Joseph of St. Joseph, Michigan, on Lake Michiganacross the state from Detroit, was seized in like manner by thePotawatomis. On May 27, Fort Miami, near present Fort Wayne ofIndiana, commanded by Ensign Holmes who had discovered the Bloody Belt,was forced to surrender to the Wyandots. Ensign Holmes himself wasdecoyed into the open, and killed.

On June 4, populous Michilimackinac of northern Michigan was pillaged.The Chippewas and Sacs celebrated the King's Birthday, in honor of theEnglish, with a great game of lacrosse in front of the post.Michilimackinac did not know that Detroit was being besieged! Thegates were left open, the officers gathered to witness the game. Theball was knocked inside the palisades, the players rushed after—andthat was the end of Michilimackinac.

On June 15 the little fort of Presq' Isle, near the modern city of Erieon the Lake Erie shore of northern Pennsylvania, was attacked. It wascaptured in two days, by the Ottawas and Potawatomis from Detroit.

On June 18, Fort Le Boeuf, twelve miles south of it, was burned. Justwhen Fort Venango, farther south, fell to the Senecas, no word says,for not a man of it remained alive. June 1, Fort Ouatanon, belowLafayette on the Wabash River in west central Indiana, had surrendered.

Niagara in the east was threatened; Fort Legonier, forty milessoutheast of Pittsburg in Pennsylvania, was attacked by the Delawaresand Shawnees, but held out; the strong Fort Pitt (now Pittsburg), withgarrison of over three hundred soldiers and woodsmen, was besieged bythe united Delawares, Shawnees, Wyandots and Mingo Iroquois.

A second Bloody Belt had been dispatched by Pontiac from Detroit; asfast as it arrived, the allies struck hard. Of twelve fortifiedEnglish posts, eight fell. Not only that, but the fiery spirit ofPontiac had aroused twenty-two tribes extending from Canada toVirginia, and from New York to the Illinois. A hundred English traderswere murdered in camp, and on the trail. A thousand English aresupposed to have been killed. Five hundred families of northernVirginia and of western Maryland fled for their lives.

While this work was going on, and the frontier settlements shuddered,and feared the morrow, Pontiac was sternly sticking to his siege ofFort Detroit.

The French around there complained to him that his men were robbingthem of provisions, and injuring the corn-fields.

"You must stand that," rebuked Pontiac. "I am fighting your battlesagainst the English."

He gave out receipts, for the supplies as taken. These receipts werepieces of bark, pictured with the kind of supplies taken, and signedwith the figure of an otter—the totem of the Ottawas. After the warevery receipt was honored, by payment.

Only his Ottawas were still fighting Detroit, when on October 30, this1763, there arrived, from the French commander on the lowerMississippi, a peace belt and a messenger for Pontiac.

He had been told that peace had been declared between the French andthe English, but he had not believed. Now he was told again, by worddirect, that the king of France and the king of England had signedpeace papers; the country was English, his father the king of Francecould not help him. He must stop his war, and "take the English by thehand."

Weeks before this, the Indians to the south had withdrawn; his otherallies were fading into the forest. So, sullen and disappointed, he,too, withdrew. His sun had set, but he tried to follow itsouthwestward.

Before he gave his hand to the English he did attempt another war. Thetribes of the Illinois hesitated, in council.

"If you do not join my people," thundered Pontiac, "I will consume youas the fire eats the dry grass of the prairies!"

The plot failed, but the Illinois did not forget his insulting words.In April, 1769, while leaving a council with the Illinois beside theMississippi River, and wearing a blue-and-silver uniform coat given tohim years before by the brave General Montcalm of the French, he wasmurdered by a Kaskaskia of the Illinois nation, in the forest whichbecame East St. Louis.

The Kaskaskia had been bribed by an English trader, with a barrel ofwhiskey, to do the deed. There died Pontiac. He was buried, it issaid, on the site of the present Southern Hotel in St. Louis City.

The Illinois suffered from this foul crime. All of Pontiac's loyalpeople—the Ottawas, the Potawatomis, the Sacs, the Foxes, theChippewas—rose against them and swept them from the face of the earth.

Now what of Catharine, who saved Detroit from Pontiac? She savedDetroit, but Fort Detroit did not save her. Pontiac was no fool; hevery quickly had suspected her. He well knew that Major Gladwyn washer friend, and that she had taken the moccasins in to him.

She was seized by the chief, beaten almost lifeless with a lacrosseracquet, and condemned to the meanest of labor. After the siege, MajorGladwyn made no effort to rescue her or reward her. At last, when anold and miserable woman, she fell into a kettle of boiling maple sap,and died.

CHAPTER VIII

LOGAN THE GREAT MINGO (1725-1774)

AND THE EVIL DAYS THAT CAME UPON HIM

During the French-and-Indian war with England, and during the war wagedby Pontiac, there was one prominent chief who did not take up thehatchet. His name was the English one of John Logan. He was a Mingo,or Iroquois, of a Cayuga band that had drifted south into east centralPennsylvania.

There Chief Shikellemus, his father, had settled and had proved himselfa firm friend of the whites. Old Shikellemus invited the Moravianmissionaries to take refuge on his lands. He spoke good English. Heacted as agent between his people and the Province of Pennsylvania. Hewas hospitable and shrewd, and ever refused to touch liquor because, ashe said, he "did not wish to become a fool."

His house was elevated on stilts, as protection against the "bigdrunks."

About 1725, a second son was born to him and his wife, and namedTah-gah-jute, meaning "His-eye-lashes-stick-out," or, "Open-eyes." Inadmiration of his good friend James Logan, of Philadelphia, secretaryof Pennsylvania, and sometimes acting governor, Chief Shikellemus gavelittle Tah-gah-jute the English name of Logan.

As "John Logan" he was known to the settlers.

The wise and upright Shikellemus died—"in the fear of the Lord." Hispeople scattered wider. Logan his son moved westward, to the Shawneeand Delaware country of Pennsylvania.

Here he married a Shawnee girl. He set up housekeeping and tradedvenison and skins with the white settlers, for powder, ball, and sugarand flour.

The tide of white blood was surging ever farther into the west, and theIndians' hunting grounds. Many of the Indians grew uneasy. Pontiac'sBloody Belt passed from village to village, but the weary and nervoustraveler was always welcome at the cabin of Logan, "friend of the whiteman."

A white hunter, Brown, trailing bear in the Pennsylvania timber, laidaside his rifle and stooped to drink at a spring. Suddenly he sawmirrored in the clear water the tall figure of an armed Indian,watching him. Up he sprang, leaped for his gun, leveled it—but theIndian smiled, knocked the priming from his own gun, and extended hishand.

This was Logan—"the best specimen of humanity I ever met with, red orwhite," wrote Brown. "He could speak a little English, and told methere was another white hunter a little way down the stream, and guidedme to his camp."

Other stories of Logan's kindnesses to the whites in his country aretold. In the latter part of 1763, a party of white settlers had brokenin upon the refuge of twenty Conestoga Iroquois, in southernPennsylvania, and killed every one. The Conestogas were kin to theother Mingos; but Logan made no war talk about it.

Simon Kenton, one of the most famous scouts of Daniel Boone's time inKentucky and Ohio, says that his form was "striking and manly," hiscountenance "calm and noble."

Although Logan started out to walk the straight path of peace, soredays were ahead of him. He moved westward again in 1770, erected acabin at the mouth of Beaver Creek, on the Ohio side of the Ohio Riverabout half way between Pittsburg of Pennsylvania and Wheeling of WestVirginia.

His cabin was kept wide open. Everybody spoke well of Logan. Heremoved once more. The new cabin, "home of the white man," was builton the Sciota River of central Ohio, among the Shawnees of ChiefCornstalk's tribe. He and Chief Cornstalk were close friends. Theyboth stood out for peace. But Cornstalk had been a war chief also,during the Pontiac up-rising. He and his warriors had obeyed theBloody Belt. His name, Cornstalk, meant that he was the support of theShawnee nation.

Now the evil days of Logan were close at hand.

Since the treaty signed with the twenty-two tribes of Pontiac, in 1765,there had been general peace between the red men and the white men inAmerica. This peace was not to continue.

For instance, Bald Eagle, a friendly old Delaware chief, who frequentlycame in, by canoe, to trade for tobacco and sugar, was killed, withoutcause, by three white men, in southern Pennsylvania. They propped him,sitting, in the stern of his canoe, thrust a piece of journey-cake, orcorn-bread, into his mouth, and set him afloat down the stream. Manysettlers who knew him well saw him pass and wondered why he did notstop for a visit. Finally he was found to be dead, and was broughtashore for burial.

There were bad Indians, too, who murdered and stole. For this, thegood Indians suffered. Western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio were awild and lawless country.

Up to 1774 these tit-for-tats had not brought on war. But the Frenchof Canada and the Great Lakes country still secretly urged the Indiansto drive out the settlers. The Americans were becoming annoyed by theharsh laws of the English king. There were English officials whodesired an Indian war. That would give the Colonists something else tothink about.

Lord Dunmore, royal governor of Virginia, was one of these officials.He had claim to land extending into Pennsylvania; Fort Pitt, at presentPittsburg, was garrisoned by Virginia troops, and he wanted to keepthem there, to help his land schemes.

April 25, 1774, he issued a proclamation calling upon the commander atFort Pitt to be ready to repel the Indians. The commander called onthe border settlers.

There was great excitement. Almost at once the peace chain that Loganhad received from his father Shikellemus was broken. He and his wifeand relatives, and a number of Shawnees and Delawares, were encampedalong Yellow Creek. This emptied into the Ohio River a few miles belowBeaver Creek, his former home.

On the very day after the commander at Fort Pitt had issued his noticeto the border people to arm, from Wheeling, on the Ohio in WestVirginia, Captain Michael Cresap led a party of militia andfrontiersmen to hunt Indians.

They promptly killed two friendly Shawnees at Pipe Creek, fourteenmiles below Wheeling. The Shawnees had no time in which to makeresistance. The next Indians who were attacked, fired back; one whiteman was wounded. Among the Indians killed in these two meetings was arelative of Logan.

Captain Cresap started north to wipe out Chief Logan's camp. He wellknew that as soon as the word of the killings reached the camp, troublemight break. On the way his heart failed him. He was a hot-headedman, he hated Indians—but he balked at shooting women and children.So he turned aside, with his party.

There were white men not so particular as he. On Baker's Bottom,opposite the mouth of Yellow Creek, lived Joshua Baker, whose principalbusiness was that of selling rum to the Indians. In the samesettlement lived Daniel Greathouse—"a ruffian in human shape," and anenemy to all Indians.

Greathouse, too, was inspired to "strike the post," in the worst Indianfashion. He gathered thirty-two whites, and hid them in Baker's house.He feared that the Logan camp had heard of the Cresap killings, so hecrossed over the river, to investigate.

A friendly squaw warned him to go back, or he might be harmed, for thecamp was very angry. Back he went. Because he was afraid to attackthe camp with his thirty-two men, he invited the Indians over, to drink"peace" with him. He was a rum seller, himself.

On April 30, they came. First a canoe containing six warriors, Logan'ssister, another woman, and a little girl. The warriors were madedrunk, and all but the little girl were butchered.

Across the river Logan heard the shooting. He sent two men in a canoeto find out what was the matter. They were killed. A larger canoe wassent. It was ambushed and the survivors fled back to the camp.

Now Logan learned that his sister and brother had been murdered. Theywere the last of his blood relatives. That was his reward for havingremained the friend of the white man. That was his reward for havingopened his cabin to the white wayfarer. He went bad, himself. He sawonly red, and he vowed vengeance. A bitter wrath turned his heartsour. He felt that he must grasp the hatchet, buried so long ago byhis father Shikellemus.

The war spirit blazed high among whites and reds on the frontier. Thewhites accused the Indians of many thoughts and deeds—some false, sometrue. The Indians accused the whites of many deeds—mainly true.Block-houses were hastily erected, for the protection of settlers.Governor Dunmore of Virginia called out troops in earnest. "Dunmore'sWar" as well as "Cresap's War" was this named.

The Shawnees, the Delawares, the Mingo Cayugas, the Wyandot Hurons,held councils in their Scioto River country of central Ohio. Beltswere sent to the Miamis on the west and the Senecas on the east. Therewere debates upon striking the Long Knives, as the Virginians werecalled.

These Long Knife Americans had crossed the rivers and the mountains,were possessing themselves of Ohio, and even of Kentucky; much bloodhad been shed, and the wiser heads among the tribes did not knowexactly what to do about it.

The great Cornstalk, loved chief of the Shawnees, and now fifty yearsin age, lifted his voice for peace. He could see no good in a waragainst the Americans. Logan, gnawed by his own wrongs, remained apartand said little. But the Americans struck first.

Hoping to keep the Indians at home, in June four hundred border menwere ordered by Governor Dunmore of Virginia to attack the villages inOhio. They marched west across country until in southern Ohio theydestroyed two Shawnee towns.

The light-skinned Shawnees were known as the fiercest, most stubbornfighters among all the Algonquins between the Alleghanies and theMississippi River. Now their hot natures burst. Chief Cornstalkyielded.

"It is well," he said. "If you go to war, then I will lead you. If wefight at all, we must fight together."

But of the Indians it was Logan who first struck the Long Knives. Withonly seven warriors he suddenly appeared in Virginia itself. This wasLong Knife country. Here, July 12, he fell upon William Robinson,Thomas Hellen and Coleman Brown, three settlers who were gathering flaxin their field.

Brown died under the first volley; Hellen and Robinson ran hard.Hellen was an old man, and easily caught, but William Robinson wasyoung and strong. Dodging and legging, he had almost reached thetimber. Hearing loud shouting, with English words, behind him, andfearing a rifle bullet, he turned his head and lunged full tilt into atree. Down he dropped, stunned.

After a bit he came to. He was lying, securely tied, hands and feet.Logan was sitting quietly beside him, waiting for him to waken. Theold man Hellen had not been harmed, either. Logan's party took theirtwo captives to Logan's town in Ohio—treated them kindly on the way.

"What will be done to us at your town?" asked Robinson.

"You will be made to run the gauntlet," answered Logan. "But if youlisten to my words, you will not be hurt. You must break through thelines and run to the council house. When you are in the council house,you will be safe. That will end the gauntlet."

Approaching the Mingo and Shawnee towns, Logan uttered a terrificscalp-halloo, as signal of success. Warriors hastened out. Thegauntlet was formed. This was two lines of warriors, squaws andchildren, armed with sticks, clubs and switches. Through the long,narrow, living aisle the two prisoners had to make their way.

Remembering Logan's advice, Robinson charged aside, broke through, andraced for the council house. All out of breath, he reached it ahead ofhis howling pursuers. No Indian dared to attack him there. It wassanctuary.

Poor old Mr. Hellen failed. The lines were stout, the clubs andswitches blinded him; before he had reached the council house awar-club struck him helpless. He might have been beaten to death hadnot Robinson bravely grabbed him and dragged him in.

He had won his life, and was adopted into an Indian family. Now theIndians were angry with Robinson. They decided to burn him at thestake.

"Have no fear. You shall not die," asserted Logan.

But matters looked bad. He was tied to the stake. While he stoodthere, with the squaws howling around him, he heard Logan speak,appealing for his life.

"The most powerful orator I've ever listened to," afterward saidRobinson. "His gestures and face were wonderful!"

The warriors still called for fire. The torch was ready, when Logansprang angrily forward. With his own hatchet he cut the ropes, andmarching the white captive through the mob landed him in the lodge ofan old squaw. Few chiefs would have dared an act like this, to savemerely a white man, and an enemy.

However, Logan was not yet done. Thirteen of his people, he claimed,had been killed by the whites; and thirteen white scalps should pay.Just before he set out on the war-path again, he brought to WilliamRobinson a goose-quill and some gun-powder.

He bade Robinson sharpen the quill, and with gunpowder-and-water forink write a letter.

Captain Cresap:

What did you kill my people on Yellow Creek for? The white peoplekilled my kin at Conestoga, a great while ago, and I thought nothing ofthat. But you killed my kin again on Yellow Creek, and took my cousinprisoner. Then I thought I must kill, too; and I have been three timesto war since; but all the Indians are not angry, only myself.

July 21, 1774. CAPTAIN JOHN LOGAN.

This note was carried clear down into western Virginia, as if to showhow far Logan could reach. It was found tied to a war-club and left ata plundered settler's cabin.

Logan never would believe but that Michael Cresap had killed thewarriors and women at Yellow Creek. When Captain Cresap heard of thisnote, and that he was blamed, he said that he would like to sink histomahawk in Daniel Greathouse's head!

Chief Logan was not long in getting his thirteen scalps.

"Now," he announced, "I am satisfied. My relations have been paid for.I will sit still."

He was not to sit still yet. The hands of the Shawnees grasped thehatchet very firmly. Forty scalps at a time had been hung in theShawnee lodges, but the spirits of their fathers and the ashes of theirtowns called for more. The Delawares had not taken payment enough forthe scalp of old Bald Eagle. The Senecas remembered that many yearsago eight of their warriors were attacked by one hundred and fifty LongKnife soldiers. The Mingos had not forgotten the massacre of theConestogas. The Wyandots were red, and hated the white face in theeast.

These nations formed the league of the Northern Confederacy, to defendthemselves. Cornstalk the Shawnee was chosen head chief.

CHAPTER IX

CORNSTALK LEADS THE WARRIORS (1774-1777)

HOW HE AND LOGAN STROVE AND DIED

At the last of September a Shawnee scout ran breathless into the ChiefCornstalk town. He brought word that far across the Ohio River, innorth-western (now West) Virginia, he and his comrade had met a greatcolumn of Long Knives, advancing over the mountains, as if to invadethe Indian country. His comrade had been killed. He himself had comeback, with the word.

Taking eleven hundred warriors—the pick of the Shawnees, the fightingDelawares, the Wyandots, the Mingo Cayugas and the Mingo Senecas—ChiefCornstalk marched rapidly down to give battle.

There really were two American columns, on their way to destroy theShawnee and Mingo towns in interior Ohio.

The Division of Northern and Western Virginia, twelve hundred men, hadmustered at Fort Pitt (Pittsburg, Pennsylvania), in the territorydisputed by Virginia and Pennsylvania. It was under command of LordDunmore himself, governor of Virginia for the king of England.

The Division of Southern and Eastern Virginia, fifteen hundred men, hadmustered at Lewisburg, West Virginia. It was under command of GeneralAndrew Lewis, a valiant soldier.

The Lord Dunmore division was to march south, the General Lewisdivision was to march west; the two were to join forces at PointPleasant, where on the border of West Virginia the Big Kanawha Riverempties into the noble Ohio.

Cornstalk moved fast. He had as aides Logan of the Cayugas, Chi-ya-weeof the Wyandots, Scop-pa-thus of the Senecas, young Red Hawk of thefighting Delawares, his own son El-li-nip-si-co—noted chiefs, all.Among the Shawnee sub-chiefs was Puck-ee-shin-wah, father of a boynamed Tec*mseh who grew to the greatness of Pontiac.

The General Lewis division had arrived first at the mouth of the BigKanawha. On the evening of October 9, from the opposite side of theOhio, Cornstalk's and Logan's men sighted them there, in camp.

Fresh news had come to Cornstalk. He had learned of the otherdivision, under Lord Dunmore. He had learned that the column acrossfrom him was equal to his own force, and that another detachment of itwas hurrying on its trail.

In a council of the chiefs and principal warriors he proposed that hego over, in person, and treat for peace. But all his men voted himdown.

"Very well," he replied. "If you are resolved to fight, then fight youshall. We must not delay. It is likely that we shall have hard worktomorrow, but if any warrior attempts to run away, I will kill him withmy own hand."

This night the warriors ferried the Ohio, above the camp, by means ofseventy-eight rafts. They worked hard, and formed for battle atdaybreak.

"We will make a line behind the Long Knives," ordered Cornstalk, "anddrive them forward like bullocks into the two rivers."

Most of the Virginians were asleep in their tents, when, beforesunrise, two of their hunters, seeking deer for breakfast, found theIndian army, already in battle array, and covering, as one of thehunters excitedly reported, "four acres of ground."

But these Virginians were no fools. Of the eleven hundred here,wellnigh every man had been a buckskin borderer, deadly with rifle,tomahawk and knife, and up to all Indian tricks. They were fairlydrilled, too, as militia. A number of the officers had fought underMajor George Washington, when on the fatal Braddock's Field, in 1755,the American Rangers had tried to save the day from the French, andfrom Pontiac's whooping warriors.

They all had marched for five weeks across one hundred and sixty milesof trackless mountain country, driving their pack-horses and theirherds of beef cattle; now they rallied briskly to save their lives. Itwas nip and tuck.

From before sunrise until sunset raged the great battle of PointPleasant, or the Big Kanawha. It was the first pitched battle betweensimon-pure Americans—but the Revolution was near and after this theAmericans were to do their own fighting.

The lines were over a mile long, rarely more than twenty yards apart,frequently less than six yards apart, and sometimes mingling. Thearmies were equal.

Both sides fought Indian fashion, from behind trees and brush. Riflemet rifle, tomahawk met tomahawk, knife met knife. The air was filledwith whoops and cheers. Able chiefs faced able chiefs—on the whiteAmerican side there were leaders who soon became more famous in theRevolution and in the history of the new nation.

It was a long-famous battle. A ballad written upon it was frequentlysung, on the frontier:

Let us mind the tenth day of October,
Seventy-four, which caused woe;
The Indian savages they did cover
The pleasant banks of the O-hi-o.

The battle beginning in the morning,
Throughout the day it lashed sore,
Till the evening shades they were returning
Upon the banks of the O-hi-o.

Seven score lay dead and wounded.
Of champions that did face their foe,
By which the heathens were confounded,
Upon the banks of the O-hi-o.

Col. Lewis and noble captains
Did down to death like Uriah go.
Alas, their heads wound up in napkins,
Upon the banks of the O-hi-o.

O bless the mighty King of Heaven
For all his wondrous works below,
Who hath to us the victory given,
Upon the banks of the O-hi-o.

Logan was seen here, there, everywhere. So was Cornstalk. His mightyvoice was heard above the din, like the voice of old Annawan when KingPhilip had been surprised. "Be strong! Be strong!" he appealed to hiswarriors. With his tomahawk he struck down a skulker. That had beenhis promise, in the council.

All this October day the battle continued. In single encounters, manto man, valorous deeds were done.

Cornstalk proved himself a worthy general. When his line bent back,before the discipline of the Long Knives, it was only to form anambush, and then the whites were bent back. He had early placed hiswarriors across the base of the point, so that they held the whites inthe angle of the two rivers. They dragged logs and brush to position,as breast-works. "We will drive the Long Knives into the rivers likeso many bullocks."

That was not to be. Two of General Lewis's colonels had fallen; theIndian fire was very severe and accurate; but after vainly trying tofeel out the end of the red line, the general at last succeeded, towardevening, in sending a company around.

Chief Cornstalk thought that this company, appearing in his rear, wasthe absent part of the division. Lest he be caught between two fires,he swung about and skillfully withdrew.

The battle slackened, at dusk. This night he safely removed his armyacross the Ohio again, that they might avoid the Lord Dunmore divisionand protect their towns in Ohio.

Nearly all the Indian bodies found, and nearly all the Virginianskilled and wounded, were shot in the head or the breast. That was themarksmanship and the kind of fighting!

The Long Knives lost seventy-five men killed and one hundred and fiftywounded. They lost two great chiefs: Colonel Charles Lewis, thebrother of the general, and Colonel John Field—both Braddock men; sixcaptains and as many lieutenants were killed, also.

The Indians said that had they known how to clean their rifles, theywould have done better. Cornstalk and Logan lost the sub-chiefPuck-ee-shin-wah, but only forty or fifty others in killed and wounded.But when they hastened for their towns they found them in danger fromthe Lord Dunmore column.

Governor Dunmore sent Chief White-eyes, of the Delawares, who had notjoined in the war, to ask Chief Cornstalk for a talk. Chief White-eyesreturned with no answer, for the Cornstalk chiefs were in bittercouncil.

Cornstalk addressed them:

"You would not make peace before Point Pleasant; what is your voicenow, when the Long Knives are pressing on in two columns?"

There was no reply.

"We cannot save our villages," he continued. "If your voice is forwar, let us first kill our women and children. Then let us warriors goout and fight like men until we, too, are killed."

Still no reply. Cornstalk dashed his hatchet into the council post.

"You act like children," he thundered. "I will go and make peace,myself."

And leaving his hatchet sticking in the post, go he did.

Logan had not been here. He was away, down in Virginia, scouting withhis Mingos, and delivering his note to Captain Cresap. On October 21he arrived with scalps.

He refused to meet the governor.

"Tell the governor that I am a warrior, not a councillor," he bade.

His sore heart was not yet healed. His Mingos were for war. TheRevolution was brewing, and Governor Dunmore was anxious to be abouthis own affairs. So he sought out Logan with two messengers, ScoutSimon Girty, and Trader John Gibson, who spoke the Mingo tongue. Theyreturned with Logan's stubborn answer, written out by John Gibson:

I appeal to any white to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry,and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and heclothed him not.

During the course of the last long, bloody war [the French and Indianand the Pontiac war] Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate forpeace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed asthey passed, and said, "Logan is the friend of the white men."

I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of oneman. Col. Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked,murdered all the relatives of Logan; not even sparing my women andchildren.

There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature.This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many.I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at thebeams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy offear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save hislife. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!

Trader Gibson reported that while making this speech, Logan wept. Thesad-hearted chief probably did not put his words in exactly this order,but they made a great sensation. Soon they were being repeatedthroughout all the Ohio River country, and east of the Alleghanies, intowns, cabins and camps.

"Who is there to mourn for Logan?" would ask some voice, in the circle.And another voice would reply, with deep feeling: "Not one!"

President Thomas Jefferson included the speech in a book that hepublished—"Notes on Virginia," and said that he challenged theorations of the world to produce anything better.

It was copied into other books. School-children memorized it, for"speaking day"; grown people used it, in contests; and for one hundredyears it was the favorite platform piece. Thus Logan lived in thewhite man's words.

Still Logan did not come in to the peace talk held with GovernorDunmore, southeast of present Circleville in south central Ohio. TheShawnees and Delawares said:

"Logan is like a mad dog. His bristles are up; they are not yetfallen, but the good talk may smooth them down."

He stayed close in his cabin, up the Scioto River, and Cornstalk spokefor the Shawnees, Delawares and Wyandots. It was another great address.

"I have heard the first orators of Virginia—Patrick Henry and RichardHenry Lee," declared Colonel Benjamin Wilson, of Dunmore's men, "butnever have I heard one whose powers surpassed those of Cornstalk onthat occasion."

Cornstalk told of the wrongs suffered by the Indians, in their huntinggrounds; how they were losing the lands of their fathers, and werebeing cheated by the white men. He asked that nobody be permitted totrade, on private account, with the Indians, but that the Governmentshould send in goods, to be exchanged for skins and furs, and that no"fire water" should enter into the business, for "from fire water therecomes evil."

Then he buried the hatchet. He never dug it up. When the Revolutionbroke, in 1776, and the British agents urged the Indians to strike thepost again and help their great father, the king, Cornstalk held firmfor friendship with the Americans.

In the spring of 1777, he and young Red Hawk the Delaware, and anotherIndian came down to the American fort that had been built on the battlefield of Point Pleasant at the mouth of the Big Kanawha of the WestVirginia border.

"My Shawnees are restless," he warned. "The current sets so stronglyagainst the Americans, that I fear my people will disobey me and floatwith the stream."

Captain Matthew Arbuckle was the commander of the fort. He kept theCornstalk party as hostages for the good behavior of the Shawnees.Cornstalk did not object, but spent much time in talking with theofficers, and in kindly drawing maps of the Ohio country, for them.

One day in a council he said:

"When I was young and went to war, I often thought, each might be mylast adventure, and I should return no more. I still lived. Now I amin the midst of you, and if you choose, you may kill me. I can die butonce. It is alike to me, whether now or hereafter."

Those brave words were not forgotten. This same day somebody shoutedloudly from the opposite side of the Ohio. It was the young ChiefEllinipsico. He had not known what had happened to his father, and hadtraveled many miles, seeking him.

Cornstalk called him over. There was much rejoicing in the reunion;they loved each other dearly.

On the very next day two soldiers, named Hamilton and Gilmore, wentover the Kanawha River, to hunt. The majority of the Ohio Indians werenow helping the British. Some of the hostile warriors, lurking in WestVirginia, fired on the two men and killed Gilmore.

Instantly the cry arose among the soldiers at the fort, thatEllinipsico had planned the ambush. Ellinipsico denied it. He saidthat he had come alone, on purpose to find his old father.

But that made no difference. Captain John Hall and squad werereturning in a canoe bearing the body of Gilmore.

"Let us go and kill those Indians in the fort!"

Captain Arbuckle and Private Stuart tried in vain to force them back.In their cabin, of the fort, the Chief Cornstalk party had been told bya white woman that they were in danger. They now heard the CaptainHall men approaching. Young Ellinipsico grew frightened, but hisfather steadied him.

"My son," said Cornstalk, "the Great Spirit has seen fit that we shoulddie together, and has sent you here to that end. It is his will, andlet us submit—it is all for the best."

He faced the door, and stood calmly waiting. Without a word or astruggle he fell dead, pierced through the front by seven bullets.Ellinipsico was now calm, also. He did not even stand, and thus hedied, not moving. He was a worthy son of Cornstalk. Young Red Hawkwas a Delaware and, hoping to be spared, he crept into the fire-placechimney. But he was dragged out, to death. The fourth Indian foughtwith his hands, and was cut to pieces.

The murderers of the generous, noble-hearted Cornstalk were neverpunished, but they certainly were not admired. The white men who hadmet him in war and in peace mourned him as much as the red men did.And from that day the Shawnee nation "became the most deadly foe to theinhabitants of the frontiers." Who may blame them?

Meanwhile Logan was living in misery, but he was soon to follow ChiefCornstalk. His end was far less happy. He had not been much heardfrom lately. After he had refused to meet the Long Knives in a peacetalk, the troops had destroyed some of his villages. He and a band ofhis Mingos retreated northward toward the Great Lakes.

The Mingos aided the British, but Logan pursued fire-water morefrequently than he did war. He never got over his grief. It hadbitten him too deeply, and had poisoned his thoughts. Still, the goodin him cropped out.

When in 1778 the famous American scout Simon Kenton had been capturedby the Shawnees, he was taken, by the torture trail, to the village innorthern Ohio where Logan was living.

He had little hopes, but Logan walked over to him.

"Well, young man," said Logan in good English, "these other young menseem very mad at you."

"Yes, sir; they certainly are," frankly answered Simon Kenton. Alreadyone arm had been almost cut from his shoulder, by an axe.

Logan gravely smiled. "Well, don't be disheartened. I am a greatchief. You are to go to Sandusky; they speak of burning you there, butI will send two runners tomorrow to speak good for you."

That was the real spirit of Logan. The two runners were sent, andSimon felt much encouraged. During the next day he was well treated inthe village. He and Logan talked together freely.

In the evening the two runners returned. They went straight to Logan'slodge, but no word came to Kenton. Now he feared again. He fearedmore, when in the morning Logan himself approached him, said only, "Youare to be taken at once to Sandusky," gave him a piece of bread andwhirling on his heel strode gloomily away.

Evidently the power of Logan had weakened, the Shawnees had notlistened, and Sandusky, north on the Sandusky River, was waiting withthe stake.

So Simon Kenton journeyed unwillingly onward, to be saved, at the lastmoment, by the British. But Logan had done his best. After this hedrank harder, until his mind was injured. He had flashes of good, andhe had longer flashes of bad. He seemed bent upon doing as much harmto himself as he could.

Then, in 1780, one day at Detroit he thought that while drunk he hadkilled his Shawnee wife. He imagined that he was being arrested; andin the fight that he made he was shot dead by his own nephew, on theroad between Detroit and Sandusky.

Many mourned Cornstalk. "Who was there to mourn Logan"—the "friend ofthe white man?"

"Not one!"

But the name "Logan" was worn, like a badge of honor, by others in theMingo people.

CHAPTER X

LITTLE TURTLE OF THE MIAMIS (1790-1791)

HE WINS GREAT VICTORIES

During the Revolution, by which the United States became an independentnation, the great majority of the Indian tribes within reach tookactive part on the side of the British.

The Iroquois fought out of friendship, they said; the tribes fartherwest fought in the hope of keeping the settlers out of the Kentucky,Ohio and Indiana country.

For some years after the war, which closed in 1782, there was a disputebetween the United States and England over the carrying out of certainterms in the treaty of peace. Until the matter was settled, theBritish kept Detroit and other American frontier posts.

This encouraged the Indians. They had been much astonished and alarmedto find that the Americans had "laid the king on his back." Now thatthe British had lost the fight, what would happen to them?

But the British agents and traders still in the Indian country urgedthem on to make good their boast that "no white cabin should smokebeyond the Ohio." It was reported that the king was only resting, andthat the Americans yet had no right to any land west of the Ohio River.

So the Miamis, the Potawatomis, the Ottawas, the Shawnees, the warDelawares, the Chippewas, the Kickapoos, the Wyandots, the Senecas,refused to meet the Americans in council or to bury the hatchet. Theyformed a league of defense.

The Miamis were the central nation. "People who live on the peninsula"was their Chippewa name—for they were Algonquins from the Chippewa andOttawa country north of the Great Lakes. "Twanh-twanh," the cry of thecrane, was their own name. Miamis, from the Chippewa word Omaumeg,were they called in English.

They had been described by early travelers as a pleasant-faced, lively,very polite people, slow of speech, swift of foot, fond of racing, andobedient to their chiefs.

Their present home was in the Wabash River valley of northern Indiana,up as far as the modern city of Fort Wayne. They claimed this countryand also all of western Ohio, where they formerly had lived. TheShawnees and the Wyandots of Ohio had moved in behind them, they said,and were merely tenants upon their lands.

Little Turtle, or Mich-i-kin-i-kwa, had become their chief. He hadbeen born on the Eel River near Fort Wayne in 1752. Therefore now atthe close of the Revolution he was thirty years old. He had not beenborn a chief, nor even a Miami. To be sure, his father was chief and aMiami, but his mother was a Mohegan of the Delawares. By Indian law hehad ranked as only a warrior and a Mohegan. An Indian was known by hismother.

As a boy of eleven or twelve he had been stirred by the Pontiac war, inwhich the Miamis had joined. As a warrior he had campaigned with theBritish under General Burgoyne who surrendered at Saratoga.

So by his deeds and his experience in field, camp and council he was aveteran and had won the chieftainship of the twelve hundred Miamis.

Although his name was Little Turtle, he had nothing little in hismake-up. On the contrary, he was of good size, strong and dignified,with a long face and full high forehead—not the face or forehead of aMiami. He seems to have been rather sarcastic, and unpopular.

Those were bloody days while the new United States was trying to extendacross the Ohio River. A treaty was made with the Cherokees andChickasaws of the South, and with the Six Nations of the North; one wassupposed to have been made with these Ohio country tribes, also.

These Indians said that they would do nothing for peace until they hadtalked with their British "father" at Detroit. They were not sure thatthe king had really surrendered their lands beyond the Ohio.

They asserted that their treaty, by which they had sold their lands,had not been signed by the proper chiefs.

In the seven years since the end of 1782, some two thousand Americansettlers and traders had been killed or captured, along the Ohio River;twenty thousand horses had been stolen. The rifle was more necessarythan the ax and plough.

The Miami villages on the northern border between Ohio and Indianaformed the base for the many war parties.

So in 1790, President George Washington and Congress ordered GeneralArthur Saint Clair, the governor of this Northwest Territory, to clearthe land for the smoke of the white cabins.

Little progress had been made by the white settlements, across the OhioRiver. There were only two of any note: Marietta, named for the Frenchqueen Marie Antoinette; and the newer Cincinnati, christened in 1790 byGovernor Saint Clair himself. There were several smaller ones,struggling to live.

The governor called for regulars and militia. General Josiah Harmar,the commander-in-chief of the United States army, was detailed incharge. On October 3 he started from Fort Washington, at Cincinnati,with three hundred and twenty regulars of the First Infantry, andeleven hundred and thirty-three militia of Kentucky and Pennsylvania,to destroy the towns of Little Turtle the Miami.

Little Turtle of course soon knew all about this. His spies infestedthe region. He rallied his bands. The Indians whom hecommanded—Ottawas, Potawatomis, Chippewas, Shawnees, Senecas,Delawares, Miamis, and so forth—were the same nations that had obeyedthe Bloody Belt of Pontiac. He had able aides, too; the skilledBuc-kon-ga-he-las of the Delawares, Blue-jacket of the Shawnees, andothers—great fighters, every one.

White men, also, were helping him. There were three, especially: SimonGirty, Matthew Elliott, and Alexander McKee, who was part Indian. Theywere three traitors who had deserted from the American garrison at FortPitt, in 1778, and had spread false reports among White-eyes'Delawares, and elsewhere.

Serving the enemies of their country, they had continued to live amongthe Shawnees and Wyandots, and in their savagery were worse than theIndians. Their names are red on the pages of history.

In Chief Little Turtle's main village, sometimes called "Girty's Town,"located a few miles southeast of present Fort Wayne, Indiana, there wasanother white man—a young man. His name had been William Wells, butnow was Black Snake. The Indians had captured him when a little boy inKentucky; he had grown up with the Miamis, had married Chief LittleTurtle's sister, and was rated as a Miami warrior. But his heart wasnot bad.

General Josiah Harmar, commander-in-chief of the United States army,was a year younger than Chief Little Turtle, commander-in-chief of theIndian army. They both were veterans of the Revolution, had goodfighters under them, and might be thought well matched. But thegeneral got threshed.

Little Turtle waited for him to come on, and plagued his march withparties of scouts who in the swamps and thickets cut off his foragingsquads.

The general had tough going, for two weeks. When on October 17 hearrived at Girty's Town, he found it abandoned and burning, to deprivehim of more supplies.

Then General Harmar made his first mistake. He detached thirty of theFirst Infantry regulars, under Captain John Armstrong, and one hundredand fifty of the militia, under Colonel John Hardin of Kentucky, tofollow the retreating Indians and perhaps destroy the next village.

He played into the hands of Little Turtle, who had over a thousandwarriors. Colonel Hardin and Captain Armstrong had marched scarcelysix miles, when in an open place they were completely ambushed. Aswarm of Indians suddenly poured in a heavy fire from the brush on allsides; rose, and charged with tomahawk and knife.

This was too much for the militia, who were poorly drilled. Away theypelted, trying to reach the main army. But the well-drilled regularsstood stanch, and met the tomahawk with the bayonet, in the hope offorcing a passage.

The Little Turtle warriors cared nothing about the militia, and letthem go. The few regulars did not last long. Every soldier except twoofficers and two privates was killed.

Of these two officers, in the break-up Ensign Asa Hartshorne ofConnecticut fortunately stumbled over a log and lay concealed until hemight escape.

Captain Armstrong crouched to his neck in a swampy pond, and stayedthere all night, while only two hundred yards from him the enemy held awar-dance over the bodies of the slain. They had whipped the trainedsoldiery, who had fought bravely.

The next day, with all his army General Harmar advanced upon the Miamitowns. Little Turtle had ordered them burned. The general destroyedthe corn-fields and the fruit-trees; and seeing no Indians to fight,turned back for Fort Washington.

He had gone about ten miles, when scouts brought word that the Indianswere gathering in their towns again. The general made a secondmistake. Colonel Hardin, stung by the way in which his militia hadacted, begged for another chance. Instead of going, himself, GeneralHarmar again detached some of the militia—six hundred this time—andsixty of the regulars under Major John P. Wyllys of Washington's oldContinentals. He told Colonel Hardin to find the Indians.

The colonel found them, on the morning of October 22. His only fearhad been that they would run off and not give him his revenge. But hehad not counted the strategy of Little Turtle.

When the first few Indians were sighted, Colonel Hardin made carefuland scientific preparation. He attacked. The Indians did run off,with the happy, shouting militia in full hue and cry after. Theregulars followed slowly. When a gap of two miles had opened, as iffrom the very earth out sprang Little Turtle's whole remaining force, athousand, and the hapless regulars were in the same plight as before.

The militia fought their way back, too late. The battle on the fieldhad become hand-to-hand. Both sides were brave; but when a soldierthrust with his bayonet, two tomahawks were there, to crash into hisskull.

Major Wyllys was killed; so was Lieutenant Ebenezer Frothingham; fiftyof the rank and file fell. Only eight men escaped. Of the militia, amajor, two captains, and over ninety others died.

After he had been joined by the survivors, General Harmar resumed hismarch to Fort Washington. He claimed a victory, because he haddestroyed the Indians' winter supplies; but he had lost one hundred andeighty-three soldiers killed, and forty wounded, and the Indians notmore than fifty warriors.

The victory and the field of battle were left to Little Turtle.General Harmar had proved to be a commander whose orders were "Go"instead of "Come," and Colonel Hardin had not known how to fightIndians.

However, Little Turtle realized that the Americans had other officers,and that General Washington was not a man to back down.. There wouldbe another army.

So he spent much of the winter in visiting various tribes and enlistingthem. He went as far north as Ontario of Canada, and there appealed tothe Missisauga nation of Algonquins. He traveled west to the IllinoisRiver. He was a second Pontiac.

General and Governor Saint Clair himself was the officer appointed byPresident Washington to lead the next expedition against the LittleTurtle army. He was a gallant old Continental, aged fifty-seven andgray-haired. As a young officer in a Scotch regiment he had come overto America with a British army, in 1758, to fight the French andIndians. After that war he had become a true American citizen ofPennsylvania, and as colonel and major-general had served with theBuff-and-Blue in the war for American independence.

He had been unlucky in his campaigns, but nobody ever doubted hiscourage. General Washington thought highly of him, and now took painsto say, in person, to him, before the start was made:

"Beware of a surprise. You know how the Indians fight. So Irepeat—beware of a surprise."

General Saint Clair had been promised three thousand men, but whenearly in September of this year 1791 he left Fort Washington, he hadonly two thousand men. Still, it was a strong army, comprising thegreater portion of the whole army of the United States. There were theFirst and Second Infantry, half a battalion (two companies) of theregular artillery, a company of mounted riflemen volunteers, and sixhundred Kentucky militia.

Major-General Richard Butler of Pennsylvania, and of the Continentalarmy in the Revolution, was field officer in command; and a number ofthe other officers had been trained under Washington. But the SecondRegiment was new, the last spring, and largely of recruits; and theKentucky militia had not wanted to come.

Part of them deserted, on the way out. The First Regiment was sent tocatch them. This left fourteen hundred men, to march on into theIndian country. General Saint Clair was so crippled with therheumatism and the gout that he could scarcely mount a horse.

Twenty miles north of Fort Washington he halted long enough to erectFort Hamilton—Hamilton, Ohio; twenty miles farther he erected FortSaint Clair; and twenty miles farther, Fort Jefferson, near the presentcity of Greenville, Ohio.

He was following up along the Indiana-Ohio line, to strike the Miamivillages. By the night of November 3 he had arrived within about fiftymiles of Little Turtle's principal town. The place on the modern mapis Fort Recovery, northern Ohio, close to Indiana.

Little Turtle was ready. He had twelve hundred men. Buckongahelas theDelaware, and Blue-jacket the Shawnee were helping him. So was aMissisauga chief who had been drilled under British officers. So wasSimon Girty the white-Indian savage. So were a number of Canadians andFrench half-breeds, from Canada and from the Illinois country. And so,it is stated, were several British officers from Detroit, who wished tosee their old foes, the Continentals, licked. Their red coats werenoticed in the battle, next day.

General Saint Clair was a good soldier, and planned well. He hadplanted a string of supply depots behind him. He had made a practiceof sounding the reveille two hours before day-break, every morning incamp, and keeping the men at parade until almost sunrise, to guardagainst a surprise. He tried to be thorough.

This afternoon of November 3 he had selected an excellent camp ground,from which a few Indians had fled at his approach. It was high,compact, and protected by a creek. He stationed his main body in twolines about seventy yards apart, facing in opposite directions.

His scouts had reported that the Indians were collecting in force abouttwelve miles distant. His intention was, to fortify the camp, so thatthe knapsacks and other baggage might be left there; and as soon as thedelayed First Regiment came in, to push right on and attack.

Little Turtle's scouts also had been active. They had surveyed themarches and the camps, had measured the infantry, artillery andcavalry—and had been alarmed by the showing. Here was an old generaland some big captains, wise in the art of war.

Now what to do?

Little Turtle called a grand council of all the chiefs, red and white.They debated whether to attack the camp, or to try an ambush in thefield. Little Turtle favored attacking the camp. An ambush would beexpected by the old general, but an attack upon a strongly guarded campwould not be expected. A maxim of war says: "Never do what the enemyexpects you to do."

The Missisauga chief sided with Little Turtle. He was a tall, stout,fierce fellow, very swarthy and severe looking. He wore hide legginsand moccasins; a long blue shirt, a brocade vest, an overcoat insteadof a blanket, and a turban studded with two hundred silver brooches.In either ear were two bangles, twelve inches long, formed of silvermedals and quarter-dollars; in his nose were three nose-jewels ofpainted silver.

He was respectfully listened to as a wise captain, and he and LittleTurtle carried the day.

"But the gray-haired general is always ready for a surprise attack."

"All right. Wait until the hour when he is not ready. Then strike."

Under the direction of Commander-in-Chief Little Turtle, in thedarkness this night the Indian army stole forward and was posted withas much skill as any white army.

The Miamis held the center; the Wyandots, the Delawares and the Senecasheld the right; the Ottawas, the Potawatomis, the Shawnees, and others,held the left.

They were ready. They could hear the challenges of the alert sentries,at the gray-hair's camp. Two hours before day-break they heard thedrums beating the reveille. The soldiers of the gray-hair were on thewatch.

The light in the east broadened. Securely hidden, the Little Turtlearmy waited. They might see the dim tents of the militiaadvance-guard, camped a quarter of a mile this side of the creek.

Beyond, where the main camp was under arms, the smoke of the firesbegan to thicken.

Toward the time of sunrise the soldiers grew tired of standing inranks. The dawn-hour for surprise by Indians had passed. Trumpet anddrum-roll sounded for "Break ranks." Having stacked their guns thesoldiers gladly made for their tents, or squatted around the breakfastfires.

Another day had begun, without event.

Little Turtle allowed fifteen minutes or so, for the soldiers to settleand doze. Then he gave the signal, a half hour before sunrise.

General Saint Clair was lying sick in his tent. There burst a distantrifle shot; it was instantly followed by a crackling volley, as fromhalf a thousand rifles—and an answering heavier volley from themuskets of the militia.

Struggling to don his blanket-coat he limped out, his gray queueragged. The camp sprang to arms, for officers and men knew theirbusiness; but here came the militia like a drove of stampeded cattle,legging frantically for shelter from a horde of whooping, dartingIndians. The militia dived through the lines of the regulars, into thevery center of the camp, and for a short period all was chaos.

It was a furious fight. Re-forming their lines, the regulars stoodwell. They checked the charge by a thunderous volley from thelong-barreled flint-lock muskets—the same as used at Brandywine,Princeton and Yorktown.

The strategy of Little Turtle and his chiefs was excellent. Theyshifted the attack from point to point. They attacked both lines atonce. They took advantage of every cover, and constantly appearedcloser. They killed every horse and every gunner of the artilleryposted in the center.

Of the Second Infantry, all the officers fell except two. GeneralButler hastened bravely up and down the one line, encouraging thetroops; General Saint Clair limped heroically up and down the otherline. Eight bullets pierced his clothing—a lock of his hair was shornoff. General Butler was shot twice; and while he was sitting, mortallywounded, an Indian rushed in and tomahawked him.

General Saint Clair's army was being shot to pieces. He orderedbayonet charges; but when these had cleared a little space, the Indiansre-appeared, thicker than ever. Their fire, it is recorded, "wastremendous."

The camp was entered, and pillaged. Some two hundred and fifty women,among them the general's dashing daughter, had come with the army; andthese suffered terribly.

After three hours' battle, the general ordered a final charge, to opena way. Pressing behind the bayonets, the weary troops commenced aretreat of twenty-nine miles to Fort Jefferson.

The general, on a poor pack-horse, insisted on bringing up the rear.Out of his less than fourteen hundred soldiers, thirty-eight officersand six hundred men were killed or missing; twenty-one officers and twohundred and forty-two men were wounded. Fifty of the women had died.It was as bad as the defeat of General Braddock's army, in 1755. For ayear and a half the field was covered with bleaching bones.

Little Turtle, the Missisauga chief and Simon Girty the white savagehad directed the attack. After a pursuit of four miles, seeing thatthe soldiers were on the run and throwing away guns, knapsacks, andall, they called the chase off.

It had been victory enough. They had captured seven pieces of cannon,two hundred cattle, many horses; they returned to the villages with onehundred and twenty scalps strung on one pole, and with threepack-horses piled high with kegs of liquor.

Their own loss was stated to be fifty-six. Surely this was a greattriumph for Commander-in-Chief Little Turtle.

CHAPTER XI

LITTLE TURTLE FEARS THE BIG WIND (1792-1812)

AND IT BLOWS HIM INTO PEACE

President Washington was almost beside himself when he got the frankreport from General Saint Clair. Another American army—as good aselection as had opposed the British themselves in many a battle of theRevolution—had been fairly outwitted and fairly defeated, by Indians.

General Anthony Wayne was appointed to try next. "Mad Anthony,"soldiers and citizens had styled him, because of his head-long valor inthe Revolution. He was a good man for the job, if he did not act toofast and get ambushed.

He took his time. The army of the United States was reorganized intothe Legion of the United States. He was placed in command.

There were four Sub-legions, or corps, each composed of artillery,dragoons, infantry and riflemen. The enlisted men wore round caps likehelmets.

The badge of the First Sub-legion was white binding, with short plumesof white wool and black horse-hair.

The badge of the Second Sub-legion was red binding, with short plumesof red wool and white horse-hair.

The badge of the Third Sub-legion was yellow binding, with yellow wooland black horse-hair.

The badge of the Fourth Sub-legion was green binding, with green wooland white horse-hair.

"Another defeat will be ruinous to the reputation of the UnitedStates," had said President Washington. With this in mind, GeneralWayne declared for drilling his troops hard, at Legionville, belowPittsburg. Infantry, artillery and cavalry were kept busy at targetpractice, broad-sword practice, and battle formations.

In the spring of 1793 he moved down to Fort Washington at Cincinnati.On August 8, he marched north, with two thousand troops the equal ofany troops in the world, to invade the country of the Miamis.

Meanwhile there had been fighting, but the warriors of Little Turtleshowed no signs of letting up. A message from the British had toldthem that war with the United States was due this year, and that theIndians were expected to hold their ground.

Now the great warrior "Mad Anthony" was advancing. Him, the Indiansmuch respected. His reputation was known. They had named him "BlackSnake," and "Big Wind" or "Whirlwind." From the methods with which hemade his marches—his men deployed in open order, his dragoons sweepingthe flanks, his scouts before, and every night's camp pitched early andsurrounded by a log breast-works—they saw that he was wise.

He established more forts. He erected a new one near the site of FortJefferson at Greenville, Ohio; and spent the winter there. He builtFort Recovery on the skull-dotted field where General Saint Clair hadbeen routed. There the Wayne men defeated the Little Turtle men. TheIndians spent two nights in carrying off their dead and wounded. Butthe British from Detroit had come southward and built another fort forthemselves—Fort Maumee—at the Maumee River Rapids, in northwesternOhio, south of modern Toledo.

That was a rallying-place for the allied Indians, and encouraged them.The "Big Wind" continued, laying waste the villages and fields. Hebuilt Fort Defiance in the very heart of the Miami country, andproceeded down the Maumee River toward the British fort.

Within seven miles of the British fort he built Fort Deposit. He hadtwo thousand Legionaries, and eleven hundred mounted Kentucky riflemen;Little Turtle's army was being driven back upon the British fort, andmust fight or quit.

So far, the "Big Wind" had proved himself the master.

By this time Little Turtle had lost his brother-in-law, "Black Snake"or William Wells, whose blood was the white blood, and who could nolonger fire upon his race.

When he had heard that another American army was on its way, he had ledLittle Turtle apart.

"I now leave your nation for my own people," he had said. "We havebeen friends. We are friends yet until the sun is an hour higher.From that time we are enemies. Then if you wish to kill me, you may.If I want to kill you, I may."

William Wells plunged into the forest, and found General Wayne. Hebecame a valuable scout with the United States column.

From Fort Deposit General Wayne sent word to the Miamis that they mustmake peace at once, or be attacked. Little Turtle called a council.Some of his men were dubious.

"It is no use fighting that man. His eye is never shut," theycomplained.

Little Turtle himself was dubious. The council debated upon whether totry another "Saint Clair" surprise, or to choose their ground, and wait.

Blue-jacket the Shawnee was for fighting.

"Listen," spoke Little Turtle. "We have beaten the enemy twice, underseparate generals. We cannot expect the same good fortune always. TheAmericans are led now by a chief who never sleeps. The night and theday are alike to him. During all the time that he has been marchingupon us we have watched him close but we have never been able tosurprise him. Think well of it. Something whispers to me that wecould do well to treat with him."

Somebody accused Little Turtle of being afraid, at last. That wasenough. He objected no more, and the council decided to form battlearray and wait, at Presq' Isle, near the British fort. Blue-jackettook charge.

It was good ground for defense. Another "Big Wind" had passed throughthe timber, and laid the trees crisscross in great confusion. Amidstthis maze Little Turtle, Blue-jacket, Simon Girty, and the otherleaders stretched three lines of warriors and half-breeds, in a fronttwo miles long. Their left rested at the river, their right wasprotected by a thicket, the British fort was behind them.

The British commander had said that he would open his gates to them, ifthey were again driven back.

The "Big Wind," who never slept, had not delayed. This morning ofAugust 20,1794, he marched right onward, in battle array. At noon hestruck the Fallen Timbers, at Presq' Isle.

Now he was "Mad Anthony," again. He made short work of the LittleTurtle army of fifteen hundred. He sent his Kentucky mounted riflemenagainst their right flank; he sent his dragoon regulars against theirleft flank; he sent his regular infantry in a bayonet charge straightthrough their center. They were not to fire a shot until the Indianshad broken cover; then they were to deliver a volley and keep going sohard that the enemy would have no time to reload.

For once, Little Turtle's warriors did not stand. They feared this madgeneral. The trained infantry Legionaries moved so fast that theyoutfooted the cavalry; and they alone drove the warriors helter-skelterback through the timber, to the very walls of the British fort.

There the mounted riflemen and the dragoons smote with their "longknives," or broad-swords—for the gates of the fort were not opened,and the walls proved only a death-trap.

The Battle of Fallen Timbers was over in about an hour. The Americanslost thirty-eight killed, one hundred and one wounded. The loss of theMiamis and their allies numbered several hundred. Nine Wyandot chiefshad been slain.

Their warriors were scattered, their villages and corn-fields weredestroyed, the British had not helped them, United States fortsoccupied their best ground from the Ohio River right through north toLake Erie, and the long war had ended.

The Miamis and eleven other nations signed a treaty of peace, atGreenville, in August of the next year, 1795.

"I am the last to sign," said Little Turtle, "and I think I will be thelast to break it."

Ever after this, Little Turtle lived at peace with the Americans.

The United States built him a house on his birthplace at the Eel Rivertwenty miles from Fort Wayne, Indiana. He tried to adopt civilizationand bring his people to agriculture and prosperity.

He was opposed by jealous chiefs, who envied him his house and accusedhim of having been bought by the Americans. But he was wiser than they.

He had been the first of the great chiefs to frown upon the torture ofcaptives; give him a good mark for that. Now he frowned upon liquor.With Captain William Wells, his friend, he appeared before the Kentuckylegislature, and asked for a law against selling liquor to the Indians.In the winter of 1801-1802 he asked to be vaccinated, at Washington,and took some of the vaccine back with him, for his people.

He frequently visited Philadelphia. There he met the famous Polishpatriot Kosciusko. They had many talks. Kosciusko presented him witha fine pair of pistols and a valuable otter-skin robe.

Chief Little Turtle died July 14, 1812, while on a visit at Fort Wayne.The notice in a newspaper said:

"Perhaps there is not left on this continent, one of his color sodistinguished in council and in war. His disorder was the gout. Hedied in a camp, because he chose to be in the open air. He met deathwith great firmness. The agent for Indian affairs had him buried withthe honors of war."

His portrait, painted by a celebrated artist, was hung upon the wallsof the War Department at Washington.

CHAPTER XII

THE VOICE FROM THE OPEN DOOR (1805-1811)

HOW IT TRAVELED THROUGH THE LAND

In the battle of the Fallen Timbers, when General "Big Wind" broke theback of the Ohio nations, two young warriors fought against each other.

One was Lieutenant William Henry Harrison, aged twenty-one, of theAmericans. The other was Sub-chief Tec*mseh, aged twenty-six, of theShawnees.

They were the sons of noted fathers. Benjamin Harrison, the father ofLieutenant Harrison, had been a famous patriot and a signer of theDeclaration of Independence in 1776. Puck-ee-shin-wah, the father ofTec*mseh, also had been a patriot—he had died for his nation in thebattle of Point Pleasant, in 1774, when Chief Cornstalk fought forliberty.

At the Fallen Timbers, Lieutenant Harrison was an aide to GeneralWayne; young Tec*mseh was an aide to Blue-jacket. The two did notmeet, but their trails were soon to join.

The name Tec*mseh (pronounced by the Indians "Tay-coom-tha") means"One-who-springs" or "darts." It was a word of the Shawnees' GreatMedicine Panther clan, or Meteor clan; therefore Tec*mseh has beenknown as "Crouching Panther" and "Shooting Star."

He was born in 1768 at the old Shawnee village of Piqua, on Mad Riverabout six miles southwest of present Springfield, Ohio. His mother mayhave been a Creek or Cherokee woman, who had come up from the Southwith some of the Shawnees. The Shawnees were a Southern people, once.The mother's name was Me-tho-a-tas-ke.

Tec*mseh had five brothers and one sister. Two of his brothers weretwins, and at least two, besides his father, fell in battle while hewas still young.

He had not been old enough to go upon the war trail with his father andHead Chief Cornstalk; but his elder brother Chee-see-kau went, andfought the Long Knives at Point Pleasant. When he came back he tooklittle Tec*mseh in charge, to train him as a warrior.

When Tec*mseh was nineteen, he and Chee-see-kau, with a party of otherbraves, went upon a long journey of adventure south to the Cherokeecountry of Tennessee. It is said that the mother, Me-tho-tas-ke,already had left, to return to the Cherokees. Likely enough the twobrothers planned to visit her.

They swung far into the west, to the Mississippi, and circled to theCherokees. Here Ohee-see-kau was killed, while helping the Cherokeesfight the whites.

He was glad to die in battle—"I prefer to have the birds pick mybones, rather than to be buried at home like an old squaw."

Tec*mseh stayed in the South three years, fighting to avenge hisbrother, who had been a father to him, and whose spirit still urged himto be brave. He got home to Ohio just in time. In league with theLittle Turtle Miamis, War Chief Blue-jacket's Shawnees had defeated theAmerican general Harmar, and every warrior was needed.

Tec*mseh had left as a young brave; he returned as a young chief. Hewas sent out with a party to spy upon the march of the gray-hairedgeneral, Saint Clair. He did good work, but he missed the big battle.But he was at the Fallen Timbers.

Here, in the excitement when the American infantry came scrambling andcheering and stabbing, through the down trees, he rammed a bullet intohis rifle ahead of the powder, and had to retreat.

"Give me a gun and I will show you how to stand fast," he appealed, tothe other Indians. He was given a shot-gun. The white soldiers weretoo strong, his younger brother Sau-wa-see-kau was killed at his side,and he must fall back again.

This hurt his heart. When the treaty with General Wayne was signed,the next year, he did not attend. Blue-jacket, his chief, afterwardssought him out and told him all about it: that the Indians hadsurrendered much land.

For some years the peace sun shone upon the Ohio country. Tec*mseh wascareful to cast no red shadow. He bore himself like an independentchief; gathered his own band of Shawnees, married a woman older thanhimself, lived among the Delawares, and spent much time hunting. Hebecame known for his ringing speeches, in the councils; no Indian wasmore eloquent.

He was handsome, too—a true prince: six feet tall and broadshouldered, of active and haughty mien, quick step, large flashingeye's, and thin, oval Indian face, with regular features. His face wasthe kind that could burn with the fire of his mind.

In 1800 the Northwest Territory of which General Saint Clair had beenthe first governor was divided. The name Northwest Territory waslimited to about what is now the state of Ohio; all west of that, tothe Mississippi River, was Indiana Territory.

Captain William Henry Harrison, who had resigned from the army, wasappointed governor and Indian commissioner, of Indiana Territory. Hemoved to Vincennes, the capital, on the lower Wabash. Chief Tec*msehwas living eastward on the White River. Their trails were pointing in.Two master minds were to meet and wrestle.

The name of one of the two twins, brothers of Tec*mseh, wasLa-la-we-thi-ka, meaning "Rattle" or "Loud Voice." He was nothandsome. He was blind in the right eye and had ugly features. He waslooked upon as a mouthy, shallow-brained, drunken fellow, of littleaccount as a warrior. His band invited Tec*mseh's band to unite withthem at Greenville, in western Ohio where General Saint Clair's FortJefferson and General Wayne's Fort Greenville had been built.

Then, almost immediately, or in the fall of 1805, "Loud Voice" arose asthe Prophet.

While smoking his pipe in his cabin he fell backward in a pretendedtrance, and lay as if dead. But before he was buried, he recovered.He said that he had been to the spirit world. He called all the nationto meet him at Wapakoneta, the ancient principal village of theShawnees, fifty miles northeast, and listen to a message from theMaster of Life.

The message was a very good one. It was a great deal like the messageof the Delaware prophet, as used by Pontiac. The Indians were to ceasewhite-man habits. They must quit fire-water poison, must cherish theold and sick, must not marry with the white people, must cease badmedicine-making (witch-craft) and tortures; and must live happily andpeacefully, sharing their lands in common.

As for him, he had been given power to cure all diseases, and to wardoff death on the battle-field.

He changed his name to Ten-skwa-ta-wa—the "Open Door," but isgenerally styled the Prophet. His words created intense excitement.Shawnees, Delawares and other Indians came from near and far to visithim. Tec*mseh was very willing. It was a great thing to have aprophet for a brother—and whether this was a put-up job between them,is to this day a mystery. But they were smart men.

The Prophet enlarged his rant. To the whites he proclaimed that he,the Open Door, Tec*mseh, the Shooting Star, and the other twin brotherall had come at one birth. He asserted that their father had been theson of a Shawnee chief and a princess, daughter of a great Englishgovernor in the South.

Anybody whom he accused of witch-craft was put to death. They usuallywere persons that he did not like. The Delawares and Shawnees killedold chiefs who were harmless, and friends of the settlers.

Although the Open Door's teachings seemed to be for peace andprosperity among the Indians, they brought many Indians together, andaroused much alarm among the settlers of Ohio and Indiana Territory.Moreover, the gatherings at Greenville were upon ground that had beensold to the United States, under the treaty after the battle of theFallen Timbers.

Governor Harrison sent a message to the Delawares, in the name of theSeventeen Fires—the United States.

"Who is this pretended prophet who dares to speak for the greatCreator? If he is really a prophet, ask of him to cause the sun tostand still, the moon to alter its course, the rivers to cease to flow,or the dead to rise from their graves!"

And—

"Drive him from your town, and let peace and harmony prevail amongstyou. Let your poor old men and women sleep in quietness, and banishfrom their minds the dreadful idea of being burnt alive by their ownfriends and countrymen."

The Delawares listened, even the Shawnees were sickening of thewitch-craft fraud—but the Prophet seized upon an opportunity.

In this 1806 an eclipse of the sun was due, and he knew, beforehand.Perhaps he was told by British agents, for the war of 1812 was looming,and there was bad feeling between the two white nations.

"The American governor has demanded of me a sign," he proclaimed. "Ona certain day I will darken the sun."

And so he did.

His fame spread like a wind. Runners carried the news of him and ofhis power through tribe after tribe. He made long journeys, himself.In village after village, from the Seminoles of Florida to theChippewas of the Canada border, from the Mingos of the Ohio River tothe Blackfeet of the farthest upper Missouri, either he or some of hisdisciples appeared.

They bore with them a mystic figure, the size of the body of a man, allwrapped in white cloth and never opened. This they tended carefully.They bore with them a string of white beans, said to be made from theProphet's flesh.

They preached that dogs were to be killed; lodge fires were never to goout; liquor was not to be drunk; wars were not to be waged, unlessordered by the Prophet. Each warrior was obliged to draw the string ofbeads through his fingers; by this, he "shook hands" with the Prophet,and swore to obey his teachings.

It was rumored that within four years a great "death" would cover theentire land, and that only the Indians who followed the Prophet wouldescape. These should enjoy the land, freed of the white men.

Tec*mseh bowed before his talented brother, and had his own dreams;dreams of a vast war league against the Americans. The Prophet was incontrol of eight or ten thousand warriors.

The Prophet's band at Greenville increased to four hundred—Shawnees,Delawares, Wyandots, Chippewas, and others; a regular hodge-podge.

Captain William Wells, who was the Indian agent at Fort Wayne, askedthem to have four chiefs come in, to listen to a message from theirGreat Father, the President.

On a sudden Tec*mseh took the lead, as head chief.

"Go back to Fort Wayne," he ordered of the runner, a half-breedShawnee, "and tell Captain Wells that my fire is kindled on the spotappointed by the Great Spirit above; and if he has anything to say tome, he must come here. I shall expect him in six days from this time."

Captain Wells then sent the message. The President asked the Indiansto move off from this ground which was not theirs. He would help themto select other ground.

Tec*mseh replied hotly, in a speech of defiance.

"These lands are ours; no one has a right to remove us, because we werethe first owners. The Great Spirit above knows no boundaries, nor willhis red people know any. If my father, the President of the SeventeenFires, has anything more to say to me, he must send a big man asmessenger. I will not talk with Captain Wells."

"Why does not the President of the Seventeen Fires send us the greatestman in his nation?" demanded the Prophet. "I can talk to him; I canbring darkness between him and me; I can put the sun under my feet; andwhat white man can do this?"

This month of May, 1807, fifteen hundred Indians had visited theProphet. They came even from the Missouri River, and from the riversof Florida. A general up-rising of the tribes was feared.

Governor Harrison worked, sending many addresses. He could not stemthe tide set in motion by the Prophet and kept in motion by Tec*mseh.

"My children," appealed Governor Harrison, "this business must bestopped. You have called in a number of men from the most distantpeople to listen to a fool, who speaks not the words of the GreatSpirit, but those of the devil and of the British agents. My children,your conduct has much alarmed the white settlers near you. They desirethat you will send away those people, and if they wish to have theimpostor with them they can carry him. Let him go to the Lakes; he canhear the British more distinctly."

"I am sorry that you listen to the advice of bad birds," answered theProphet, of the one eye and the cunning heart. "I never had a wordwith the British, and I never sent for any Indians. They came herethemselves, to hear the words of the Great Spirit."

Tec*mseh also made speeches, at the councils. Once he spoke for threehours, accusing the whites of having broken many treaties. Some of hissentences the interpreter refused to translate, they were so frank andcutting. The teachings of the Prophet his brother were apparently allfor peace, and against evil practices such as drinking and warring; andGovernor Harrison could only wait, watchfully. But he did not like thesigns in the horizon. There were too many Indians traveling back andforth.

The war of 1812 with Great Britain was drawing nearer. The Sacs andFoxes of the Mississippi country had accepted presents from theBritish. Governor Harrison was warned that the Prophet and Tec*msehhad been asked to join.

In the summer of 1808 the Prophet moved his town to the north bank ofthe Tippecanoe River, on the curve where it enters the upper WabashRiver in northern Indiana. He still had a following of Shawnees,Chippewas, Potawatomis, Winnebagos, and so forth.

This was Miami land, shared by the Delawares. They objected. But theProphet's Town remained.

In 1809 the United States bought from the Miamis a large piece ofterritory which included this land. The Prophet's people refused tomove off. The Great Spirit had told them that the Indians were to holdall property in common; therefore no tribe might sell land without theconsent of all the tribes.

Tec*mseh was absent, on a visit to other tribes. He asked the Wyandotsand the Senecas to come to Prophet's Town on the Tippecanoe. But theWyandots and the Senecas had no wish to offend the United States again.They remembered that the British had not opened the gates of the fortto them, when the "Big Wind" was blowing them backward—"You arepainted too much, my children," they accused the British of saying—andthey were wary of Tec*mseh.

He asked the Shawnees of the upper country, also, to join him and theProphet. But they declined to meddle. Old Black Hoof, a chief whosememory extended back ninety years, advised against it.

The Prophet was more clever than Tec*mseh. The Wyandots were thekeepers of the great belt which had bound the Ohio nations together inLittle Turtle's day. The Prophet asked them if they still had it, andif they, the "elder brothers," would sit still while a few Indians soldthe land of all the Indians.

They replied they were glad to know that the belt had not beenforgotten. Let the Indians act as one nation. They passed the belt tothe Miamis—and the Miamis were forced to obey.

Governor Harrison was told that there were eight hundred warriors atthe Prophet's Town, and that Vincennes was to be attacked.

News of Tec*mseh came from here, there, everywhere. He seemed to beconstantly traveling, carrying the words of the Prophet his brother.Something was going on, underneath the peace blanket. GovernorHarrison and others of the whites read the puzzle in this wise:

The peace blanket spread by the Prophet to cover all red nations andmake them one, concealed a hatchet, as the blanket of Pontiac concealeda gun. The Indians were to be increased and strengthened by rightliving and good habits, until fitted to stand on their feet withoutaid. Then, all together, as one nation, they could strike for theircountry, from the Ohio River west to the Missouri.

Tec*mseh was to be the Pontiac who would lead them. It was a scheme sowonderful, so patient and so shrewd, that the Western whites might wellgasp before it.

The governor and Tec*mseh had never met. The Prophet had been inVincennes several times, to explain that he preached only peace—whichwas true. But the town at the Tippecanoe was getting to be a nuisance.Horse-thieves and murderers used it as a shelter, and the authority ofthe United States was defied. A messenger sent there by the governorwas threatened by the Prophet with death.

The message was sent to warn the brothers that the Seventeen Fires weresurely able to defeat all the Indians united, and that if there werecomplaints, these should be taken directly to the President. Tec*msehreplied:

"The Great Spirit gave this great island to his red children. Heplaced the whites on the other side of the big water. They were notcontented with their own, but came to take ours from us. They havedriven us from the sea to the lakes; we can go no farther. They sayone land belongs to the Miamis, another to the Delawares, and so on;but the Great Spirit intended it as the property of us all. Our fathertells us we have no right upon the Wabash. The Great Spirit ordered usto come here, and here we will stay."

However, Tec*mseh said that he remembered the governor as a very youngman riding with General Wayne, and he would go to Vincennes and talkwith him. He probably would bring thirty of his men.

"The governor may expect to see many more than that," added the Prophet.

Tec*mseh brought not thirty, but four hundred warriors, painted andarmed. Attended by a small guard, the governor stood to receive him onthe broad columned porch of the official mansion. Tec*mseh, with fortybraves, approached, and halted. He did not like the porch; he askedthat the council be held in a grove near by.

"Your father says that he cannot supply seats enough there," answeredthe interpreter.

"My father?" retorted Tec*mseh, his head high. "The sun is my father,the earth is my mother, and on her bosom will I repose!"

In the grove he made a ringing, fiery speech. He accused the UnitedStates of trying to divide the Indians, so as to keep them weak. Heblamed the "village" or "peace" chiefs for yielding, and said that nowthe war chiefs were to rule the tribes. He warned the governor that ifthe lands along the Wabash were not given back to the Indians, thechiefs who had signed the sale would be killed, and then the governorwould be guilty of the killing. He threatened trouble for the whitesif they did not cease purchasing Indian land.

"It is all nonsense to say that the Indians are all one nation,"reproved Governor Harrison, who was as fearless as Tec*mseh. "If theGreat Spirit had intended that to be so, he would not have put sixdifferent tongues into their heads. The Miamis owned these lands inthe beginning, while the Shawnees were in Georgia. You Shawnees haveno right to come from a distant country, and tell the Miamis what shallbe done with their property."

Tec*mseh sprang up and angrily interrupted.

"That is a lie! You and the Seventeen Fires are cheating the Indiansout of their lands."

The warriors leaped up, as if to attack. The few whites prepared fordefense.

"You are a man of bad heart," thundered the governor, to Tec*mseh. "Iwill talk with you no more. You may go in safety, protected by thecouncil-fire, but I want you to leave this place at once."

Other councils were held. Tec*mseh stood as firm as a rock, for whathe considered to be the rights of the Indians. He was very frank. Hesaid that if it were not for the dispute about the land, he wouldcontinue to be the friend of the Seventeen Fires. He would ratherfight with them than against them. He had no love for the British—whoclapped their hands and sicked the Indians on as if they were dogs. Asfor making the Indians one nation, had not the Seventeen Fires set anexample when they united? It was true, he said, that now all theNorthern tribes were one. Soon he was to set out, and ask the Southerntribes to sit upon the same blanket with the Northern tribes.

The governor knew. From Governor William Clark of Missouri he hadreceived a letter telling him that friendship belts and war belts werepassing among the nations west of the Missouri River, calling them toan attack on Vincennes. The Sacs of the upper Mississippi had sent toCanada for ammunition.

From Chicago had come word that the Potawatomis and other tribes nearFort Dearborn were preparing.

Governor Harrison had suggested that the two brothers travel toWashington and talk with the President about lands. He himself had nopower to promise that treaties should not be made with separatenations. He also said, to Tec*mseh:

"If there is war between us, I ask you to stop your Indians fromabusing captives, and from attacking women and children."

Tec*mseh promised, but he went out upon his trip. Before he left, heasked that nothing should be done regarding the land, before he cameback; a large number of Indians were on the way to settle there, andthey would need it as a hunting-ground! If they killed the cattle andhogs of the white people, he would fix up everything with thePresident, on his return.

So in August of 1811 he left, taking twenty warriors. With thefire-brand of tongue and the burning mystery of his presence he kindledthe nations of the South. He spoke in the name of the Great Prophet.He urged them all to join as one people and dam back the white wavethat was seeking to swallow them.

He told them that the Prophet had stationed a "lamp" in the sky, towatch them for him—and sure enough, a comet flamed in the horizon. Toa Creek chief in Alabama he said:

"You do not mean to fight. I know the reason. You do not believe thatthe Great Spirit has sent me. You shall know. I go from here toDetroit; when I arrive there I will stamp on the ground with my footand shake down all your houses."

In December occurred an earthquake which destroyed New Madrid town onthe Mississippi in southern Missouri, and was felt widely. The groundunder the Creek nation trembled. The Creeks covered their heads andcried aloud:

"Tec*mseh has got to Detroit!"

That was so. In December Tec*mseh really had got to Detroit. But hehad stamped his foot before time, and he had not made the earth totremble. He had stamped in wrath not at the Creeks, but at his ownpeople.

When he had left for the North he was ready to strike, at any moment,with five thousand warriors of North, South and West. When he arrivedhome, he found that his plans were shattered like a bubble; he had noProphet, and the former Prophet had no town!

CHAPTER XIII

BRIGADIER GENERAL TEc*msEH (1812-1813)

THE RISE AND FALL OF A STAR

In Vincennes, the white chief, Governor William Henry Harrison, hadgrown tired of the insults and defiance from the Prophet. He took ninehundred regulars and rangers, to visit the Prophet's Town, himself, andsee what was what.

He camped within a mile of the sacred place, on a timber island of themarshy prairie seven miles north-east of the present city of Lafayette,Indiana. During the darkness and early daylight of November 7, this1811, he was attacked by the Prophet's warriors. He roundly whippedthem in the hot battle of Tippecanoe.

The Prophet had brewed a kettle of magic, by which (he proclaimed tohis warriors) he had made one half of the American army dead, and theother half crazy. During the attack he sat upon a high piece ofground, and howled a song that should keep his warriors invisible andturn the bullets of the white men.

But something was wrong with the kettle, and something was wrong withthe song; for the Americans fought hard when surprised, and none seemedto be dead; and of the one thousand Shawnees, Winnebagos, Chippewas,Kickapoos, forty were killed by the bullets and many more wounded.

Of the Americans, thirty-seven were killed and one hundred andfifty-two wounded. They pressed on to the town, and burned it in spiteof the Great Spirit.

"You are a liar!" accused a Winnebago, of the Prophet. "You said thatthe white people were dead or crazy, when they were all in their sensesand fought like demons!"

When Tec*mseh arrived with his good news, the Indians were scattered.In his camp the "Prophet" was being hooted at by even the children.Tec*mseh was so enraged with his brother for not having somehow keptthe peace until the time for war was ripe, that he seized him by thehair of the head and shook him until his teeth rattled.

To Governor Harrison, Tec*mseh announced that he was well-minded forthe visit with the President.

"If you go, you must go alone, without any company of warriors,"replied the governor.

"I am a great chief, and I will not go in such a shameful fashion,"said Tec*mseh. So he went to Canada instead.

Now the game was up. The Prophet had proved to be no prophet from theGreat Spirit. The Indians felt cheated, and were not afraid to speakboldly.

Councils were held by twelve tribes, together. Band opposed band. TheDelawares, the Miamis, the Kickapoos, most of the Wyandots, were forpeace with the Americans, and for letting the British alone. So werethe Potawatomis; they accused the Prophet of leading them falsely.

Captain Elliott, the traitor and British agent, threatened to have theWyandots arrested for their talk.

The band of Canadian Wyandots touched the British war-hatchet; so didTec*mseh and the Prophet. The war between the white people hadcommenced.

Between-the-logs brought a message to the Canadian Wyandots, from HeadChief Crane, of all the Wyandots. They were to come back to theirhunting-grounds.

Round-head of the hostile Wyandots spoke.

"Tell the American commander it is our wish that he should send moremen against us. We want to fight in good earnest."

The British agent Captain Elliott spoke. "Tell my wife, your Americanfather, that I want her to cook the provisions for me and my redchildren more faithfully than she has done. If she wishes to fightwith me and my children, she must not burrow in the earth like aground-hog. She must come out and fight fairly."

Between-the-logs answered valiantly, in behalf of Chief Crane the wiseman:

"Brothers! I entreat you to listen to the good talk I have brought.If you doubt what I have said about the force of the Americans, you cansend some of your people to examine it. The truth is, your Britishfather tells you lies and deceives you.

"And now, father, I will bear your message to my American father. Youcompare the Americans to ground-hogs. I must confess that a ground-hogis a hard animal to fight. He has such sharp teeth, such a stubborntemper, and such unconquerable spirit, that he is truly a dangerousanimal, especially when in his own hole. But, father, you will haveyour wish. Before many days you will see the ground-hog floating onyonder lake, paddling his canoe toward your hole; and then you mayattack him to suit yourself!"

This council was held at Brownstown, beside Lake Erie, south ofDetroit. Nobody cared anything about the Prophet—he was no warrior.But an invitation was sent to Tec*mseh, in Canada, across the DetroitRiver.

"No," he answered. "I have taken sides with the king, my father, andmy bones shall bleach upon this shore before I will recross that streamto join in any good words council."

The Wyandots privately told Between-the-logs that the most of them werebeing held prisoners by the British; but that they accepted the beltfrom Head Chief Crane, and would return to the Americans as soon aspossible. And they did.

Tec*mseh, however, had made up his mind. He was an honest enemy.There never was anything half-way about Tec*mseh. His promised army offive thousand warriors had shrunk to less than one hundred; only thirtyof these were with him, but he set about getting more.

The Prophet his brother was down at the Fort Wayne agency in Indiana."Open Door" had partly explained away his failure in the battle ofTippecanoe. His wife, he said, had touched his medicine and spoiledits power, before the battle, and he had not known.

Tec*mseh sent a rider with word for the Prophet to remove all theIndian women and children to the Mississippi, and to bid the warriorsstrike Vincennes. He himself would join, if he lived, in the countryof the Winnebagos—which was Wisconsin.

Delawares, Senecas, Chief Crane's Wyandots and the majority of theShawnees themselves refused to rise against the Americans. The otherIndians waited for stronger signs. But they did not need to wait long.

Tec*mseh's star became fixed in the sky—he won the first battle of thewar and won it for the British. Commanding seventy Indians and fortysoldiers he whipped an American force at Brownstown.

In a second battle there, although the Americans were not captured itwas Tec*mseh again who held his position longest. As reward, he waspromoted to brigadier general in the army of the king.

The Americans surrendered Michilimackinac. The American big chief,General Hull, retreated out of Canada.

Runners from Brigadier General Tec*mseh spread the news. The Indianswaited no longer. The Potawatomis rose, the Miamis rose, the Ottawasand Winnebagos and Kickapoos rose. Sioux of Minnesota and Sacs ofIllinois hastened forward. General Tec*mseh ruled.

To the Miamis and Winnebagos was assigned the task of taking FortHarrison near present Terre Haute of Indiana; to the Potawatomis andOttawas, aided by Tec*mseh and some English, was assigned the task oftaking Fort Wayne.

But the Shooting Star's old foe, William Henry Harrison, was out uponthe war trail again. He lifted the siege of Fort Wayne. The attackupon Fort Harrison also failed. From now on he and Tec*mseh foughttheir fight, to a finish.

This fall and winter of 1812 Tec*mseh traveled once more. From Canadahe journeyed south across a thousand miles of forest, prairie andwaters clear to the Indians of Georgia, Tennessee and Alabama. He didnot now come with word from any Prophet, to make the red people onenation and a better nation.

He came as a British officer, to bid the Southern Indians join theking's standard, and fight the Americans into the sea while he and theEnglish did the same work in the north.

He distributed bundles of red sticks for them to count—one stick aday. With the last stick, they were to strike.

The Creeks and Cherokees were persuaded, and strike they did. A bloodytrail they made, which many rains did not wash clean.

Back to the war in the spring of 1813, Tec*mseh brought into camp sixhundred fresh warriors from the Wabash. Now two thousand fighting menobeyed his orders alone. His command frequently out-numbered theBritish command. He was not a general in name only; he knew militarystrategy—"he was an excellent judge of position," admitted the Britishofficers. He was consulted in the war councils.

The British thought much of him; the Americans were obliged to thinkmuch about him. But the star of Harrison also was marching on. Thetwo stars came together, in the trail.

Tec*mseh with his Indians, and the British General Proctor with hissoldiers besieged the troublesome American general at Fort Meigs, nearby the battle field of Fallen Timbers. So again the two rival chiefswere face to face.

An American detachment was surprised and captured. The Indianscommenced to kill and torture. General Proctor looked on. Tec*msehheard and rushed to the scene. He had given his word to GeneralHarrison, two years ago, and he was furious at the insult to his honor.

Defending the prisoners with knife and tomahawk, he sprang for theBritish general.

"Who dares permit such acts!"

"Sir, your Indians cannot be controlled."

"Begone!" roared Tec*mseh. "You are unfit to command; go and put onpetticoats."

After that he openly despised General Proctor.

He sent a note in to his American foeman:

"General Harrison: I have with me eight hundred braves. You have anequal number in your hiding place. Come out with them and give mebattle. You talked like a brave when we met at Vincennes, and Irespected you; but now you hide behind logs and in the earth, like aground-hog. Give me answer. Tec*mseh."

But General Harrison knew his business, and carried on to thesuccessful end.

That end was not far distant. General Tec*mseh and General Proctortogether failed to take Fort Meigs. General Proctor ordered a retreat.General Harrison followed on the trail. General Tec*mseh hated toretreat. At every step he was abandoning Indian country.

The retreat northward to Canada continued. Tec*mseh was fighting thebattle of his people, not of the English; he wished to go no farther.

He proposed to his warriors that they leave for another region, and letthe Americans and British fight their own war.

"They promised us plenty of soldiers, to help us. Instead, we aretreated like the dogs of snipe-hunters; we are always sent ahead torouse the game."

"You got us into this war by your promises," retorted the Sioux and theChippewas. "You have no right to break us."

Any appeal to Tec*mseh's honor was certain to win; he stuck. ThenAmerican ships under Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry fought British shipsunder Commodore Barclay, on Lake Erie, and gained a great victory.

From an island near shore the Tec*mseh warriors peered eagerly, to thesound of the heavy guns.

"A few days since you were boasting that you commanded the waters," hadsaid Tec*mseh, to General Proctor. "Why do you not go out and meet theAmericans? They are daring you to meet them; you must send out yourfleet and fight them."

Now, after the battle, the British general asserted:

"My fleet has whipped the Americans, but the vessels are injured andhave gone to Put-in Bay, to refit. They will be here in a few days."

Tec*mseh was no fool. He had before caught the general in a lie. Hereat Fort Maiden opposite Detroit he challenged him in a hot speech.

Father! Listen to your children. You have them now all before you.

The war before this, our British father gave the hatchet to his redchildren, when our old chiefs were alive. They are now dead. In thatwar our father was thrown flat on his back by the Americans, and ourfather took them by the hand without our knowledge. We are afraid thatour father will do so again.

Summer before last, when I came forward with my red brothers, and wasready to take up the hatchet in favor of our British father, we weretold not to be in a hurry—that he had not yet decided to fight theAmericans.

Listen! When war was declared, our father stood up and gave us thetomahawk, and told us that he was then ready to strike theAmericans—that he wanted our aid—and that he would surely get us ourlands back, which the Americans had taken from us.

Listen! When we were last at the Rapids [Fort Meigs] it is true thatwe gave you little assistance. It is hard to fight people who livelike ground-hogs.

Father, listen! Our ships have gone out; we know they have fought; wehave heard the great guns; but we know nothing of what happened. Ourships have gone one way, and we are much astonished to see our fathertying up everything and preparing to run away the other, withoutletting his red children know what it is about.

You always told us to remain here, and take care of our lands; it madeour hearts glad to hear that was your wish. You always told us youwould never draw your foot off British ground. But now, father, we seeyou are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing sowithout seeing the enemy. We must compare our father's action to a fatdog, that carries its tail upon its back, but when frightened, drops itbetween its legs and runs off.

Father, listen! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land;neither are we sure that they have done so by water.

We wish to remain here, and fight the enemy, should they appear. Ifthey defeat us, we will then retreat with our father.

At the battle of the Rapids [Fallen Timbers] last war, the Americanscertainly defeated us; and when we returned to our father's fort atthat place, the gates were shut against us. Now instead of that, wesee our British father making ready to march out of his garrison.

Father! You have got the arms and ammunition which our great fathersent for his red children. If you have an idea of going away, givethem to us, and you may go and welcome. Our lives are in the hands ofthe Great Spirit. We are resolved to defend our lands, and if it behis will, we wish to leave our bones upon them.

General Proctor writhed under this speech, but he had to swallow it.He might have done better by taking council with Tec*mseh and attackingthe Americans at the instant of their landing on the Canadian shore.The Indians would have fought very hard, even yet, for him. But heordered the retreat again, he burned Fort Maiden, and marched inland upthe Thames River of southwestern Ontario.

Tec*mseh went unwillingly. His Indians were down-hearted. GeneralHarrison crossed from Detroit, and pursued. Tec*mseh felt the sting.

"We are now going to follow the British," he said to Jim Blue-jacket,son of old Chief Blue-jacket, "and I believe we shall never return."

He rode with General Proctor in a buggy, and suggested several placesthat looked good for making a stand.

Once General Proctor agreed. It was indeed an excellent spot, where alarge creek joined the Thames.

"We will here defeat General Harrison or leave our bones," he declared.

That was a talk right to Tec*mseh's liking.

"When I look upon these two streams they remind me of the Wabash andthe Tippecanoe of my own country," he said hopefully.

But after Tec*mseh had gladly arranged his warriors, General Proctordecided to leave them as a rear guard and to march on with hissoldiers. The Americans brought up ten cannon, and Tec*mseh waswounded in the left arm, and the Indians had to retreat, also.

On the fourth of October, which was a few days afterward, at anothergood place Tec*mseh said that he would go no farther into Canada. Thiswas British soil, not Indian soil. Unless the Americans were whippedand the trail home was opened, how were his Indians ever to help theother Indians fight?

On the morning of the next day, October 5, 1813, he and General Proctormade their battle plans.

"Shall we fight the Americans, father?" asked Sagaunash, or BillyCaldwell. He was half English and half Potawatomi, and acted asTec*mseh's secretary, to translate Shawnee into French or English.

Tec*mseh was gloomy. He had no faith in the British general.

"Yes, my son. Before the sun sets we shall be in the enemy's smoke.Go. You are wanted by Proctor. I will never see you again."

He posted his men. Then he addressed his chiefs.

"Brother warriors! We are about to enter a fight from which I shallnot come out. My body will remain." He handed his sword and belt to afriend.

"When my son becomes a great warrior, and able to use a sword, give himthis."

Then Tec*mseh stripped off his red uniform coat, bearing the goldepaulets of a British brigadier general. He was to fight as anordinary Indian, in buckskin hunting-shirt.

There were nine hundred British soldiers and one thousand Indians.They were well stationed. The left flank, British, was protected bythe deep Thames River; the right flank, Indian, was protected by a softswamp. The Americans of General Harrison came on. They numbered threethousand: one hundred and twenty United States regulars, the restKentucky volunteer infantry with one regiment of mounted riflemen underbold Colonel Richard M. Johnson of Kentucky.

Tec*mseh would have given a great deal to whip this doughty GeneralHarrison who had come out of his "hole" at last. There were old scoresbetween them. But, as Between-the-logs had warned, "a ground-hog is avery difficult animal."

General William Henry Harrison of Virginia knew how to fight when inhis "hole," or fort—and he knew how to fight when out of his "hole,"and he knew Indian fighting as well as white fighting.

Here were three brigadier generals—Harrison, Tec*mseh, and Proctor.

But the battle was soon over. General Proctor had made the mistake ofposting his soldiers in open order. General Harrison's eye was quickto note the weakness. He let the Indians alone, for a few minutes, andsent the right of the mounted backwoodsmen in a charge against theBritish.

The horses broke clear through, wheeled—and the deed had been done.The British soldiers threw aside their guns, to surrender; GeneralProctor dashed furiously away in his buggy.

Headed by Colonel Johnson himself, the left companies of the mountedriflemen now charged upon Tec*mseh. The infantry followed.

The Indians had small chance, but they fought well. Tec*mseh waiteduntil they could see the flints in the American rifles. Then he fired,raised the Shawnee war-whoop, they all fired, and rushed with theirtomahawks to the encounter.

Yes, they fought well. Their close volley had killed many Americans.The horse leader, who was Colonel Johnson, had been wounded; the horsesoldiers were fighting on foot, because the swamp had entangled thehorses' legs. The American infantry barely stood fast, under the firstshock.

Tec*mseh's voice had been heard constantly, shouting for victory—asbefore him old Annawan the Wampanoag and Cornstalk the other Shawneehad shouted. Suddenly the voice had ceased.

A cry arose instead: "Tec*mseh is dead! Tec*mseh is dead!" And atthat, as a Potawatomi afterward explained, "We all ran."

Some people said that Tec*mseh had charged with the tomahawk upon thewounded Colonel Johnson, and that Colonel Johnson had shot him with apistol, just in time. Some people denied this. Colonel Johnsonhimself said that he did not know—he did not pause to ask the Indian'sname, and did not stay to examine him! There was quite an argumentover the honor—but Tec*mseh did not care. He was lying dead, in hissimple buckskin, and for a time was not even recognized.

A gaudily dressed chief was mistaken for him, until friendly Indianswith General Harrison stated that the great Tec*mseh had a ridge on histhigh, from a broken bone.

By this he was found, after nightfall. He was brought to thecamp-fires, where a circle of the Kentuckians gathered about him, toadmire his fine figure and handsome face. He had been a worthy foeman.

So Tec*mseh quit, at last. He never could have lived to see the whitemen pushed across the Ohio, and all the red men occupying the West asone nation. That was not written of his star, or any other star.

But he left a good reputation. He had been of high mind and cleanheart, and he had fought in the open. The British adjutant-general atMontreal issued public orders lamenting his death and praising hisbravery. The British throne sent his young son, Puck-e-sha-shin-wa, asword, and settled a pension upon the family, in memory of the father.

The Prophet received a pension, too. He stayed in Canada until 1826,when he moved down among the Shawnees of Ohio again. He long out-livedhis greater brother, and died in the Shawnee village in present Kansas,in 1837. He posed as a prophet to the very last.

As for General William Henry Harrison, who had broken them both—borneonward by his nickname "Old Tippecanoe" he became, in 1841, ninthPresident of the United States; and on his reputation of having "killedTec*mseh," Colonel Johnson already had been a vice-president.

CHAPTER XIV

THE RED STICKS AT HORSESHOE BEND (1813-1814)

AND THE WONDERFUL ESCAPE OF CHIEF MENEWA

As fast as Tec*mseh and the Open Door, or their messengers, traveled,they left in their trail other prophets. Soon it was a poor tribeindeed that did not have a medicine-man who spoke from the Great Spirit.

When Tec*mseh first visited the Creeks, in Georgia and Alabama, theywere not ready for war. They were friendly to the whites, and weregrowing rich in peace.

The Creeks belonged to the Musk-ho-ge-an family, and numbered twentythousand people, in fifty towns. They had light complexions, and weregood-looking. Their women were short, their men tall, straight, quickand proud.

Their English name, "Creeks," referred to the many streams in theircountry of Georgia and eastern Alabama. They were also called"Muskogee" and "Muscogee," by reason of their language—theMusk-ho-ge-an.

They were well civilized, and lived almost in white fashion. They keptnegro slaves, the same as the white people, to till their fields, andwait upon them; they wore clothing of calico, cotton, and the like, inbright colors. Their houses were firmly built of reed and cane, withthatched roofs; their towns were orderly.

With the Chickasaws and the Choctaws, their neighbors in westernAlabama and in Mississippi, they were at war, and had more than heldtheir own.

White was their peace color, and red their war color. And whenTec*mseh gave them the red sticks, on which to count the days, he didnothing new. The war parties of the Creeks already were known as RedSticks.

This was their custom: that a portion of their towns should be WhiteTowns, where peace ceremonies should be performed and no human bloodshould be shed; the other portion should be Red Towns, where war shouldbe declared by erecting a red-painted pole, around which the warriorsshould gather. The war clans were Bearers of the Red, or, Red Sticks.

The first visit by Tec*mseh, in 1811, carrying his Great Spirit talk ofa union of all Indian nations, failed to make the Creeks erect theirred poles. Even the earthquake, that Tec*mseh was supposed to havebrought about by the stamping of his foot, failed to do more than tofrighten the Creeks.

But they caught the prophet fad. Their pretended prophets began tostir them up, and throw fear into them. In 1802 the United States hadbought from the Creeks a large tract of Georgia; the white people weredetermined to move into it. Alarmed, the Creeks met in council, afterTec*mseh's visit, and voted to sell no more of their lands without theconsent of every tribe in the nation. Whoever privately signed to sellland, should die. All land was to be held in common, lest the whiterace over-run the red. That was a doctrine of the Shawnee Prophethimself, as taught to him by the Great Spirit.

When Tec*mseh came down from Canada, in the winter of 1812, on hissecond visit, the Creeks were ripening for war. Their Red Sticks partywas very strong. The many prophets, some of whom were half negro, haddeclared that the whites could be driven into the sea. The soil of theCreek nation was to be sacred soil.

Traders had been at work, promising aid, and supplying ammunition, inorder to enlist the Creeks upon the British side.

So in the Red Towns the Red Sticks struck the painted poles; the peaceparty sat still in the White Towns, and was despised by the Reds aswhite in blood as well as in spirit.

The hope of the Creeks was to wipe the white man's settlements from theface of Mississippi, Georgia and Tennessee. Alabama, in the middle,would then be safe, also. But the Choctaws, the Chickasaws, theCherokees, refused to join. The White Sticks themselves listened tothe words of their old men, and of Head Chief William Macintosh; theysaid that they had no feud with the United States.

Commencing with President Washington, the United States had treated theCreeks honestly; the Creek nation had grown rich on its own lands.

The Red Sticks went to war—and a savage war they waged; the moresavage, because by this time, the spring of 1813, all the Creeks werenot of pure blood. They had lived so long in peace, in their towns,that their men and women had married not only among the white peoplebut also among the black people; therefore their blood was getting tobe a mixture of good and bad from three races.

Head Chief William Macintosh was the peace chief. He was half Scotchand half Creek, and bore his father's family name. He joined the sideof the United States.

The war chiefs were Lam-o-chat-tee, or Red Eagle, and Menewa. They,too, were half-breeds.

Chief Red Eagle was called William Weatherford, after his white traderfather who had married a Creek girl. He lived in princely style, on afine plantation, surrounded with slaves and luxury.

Menewa was second to Chief Macintosh. His name meant "Great Warrior";and by reason of his daring he had earned another name, Ho-thle-po-ya,or Crazy-war-hunter. He was born in 1765, and was now forty-eightyears old. He and Chief Macintosh were rivals for favor and position.

Menewa was the head war chief—he frequently crossed into Tennessee, tosteal horses from the American settlers there. A murder was committedby Indians, near his home; Georgians burned one of his towns, aspunishment. Chief Macintosh was accused of having caused this murder,in order to enrage the white people against Menewa; and when Macintoshstood out for peace, Menewa stood out for war.

He and Chief Weatherford led the Red Sticks upon the war trail; butgreater in rank than either of them was Monahoe, the ruling prophet, ofMenewa's own band. He was the head medicine-chief. He was the SittingBull of the Creeks, like the later Sitting Bull of the Sioux.

Out went the Red Sticks, encouraged by Monahoe and the other prophets.Already the white settlers had become alarmed at the quarrel betweenthe Macintosh bands and the Menewa bands. When two Indian partiesfight, then the people near them suffer by raids. All Alabama,Mississippi and Georgia prepared for defense.

There were killings; but the first big blow with the Creek hatchet, tohelp the British and to drive the Americans into the sea, was struck inAugust against Fort Mimms, at the mouth of the Alabama River insouthwestern Alabama above Mobile.

With all the cunning of the three bloods, the warriors waited untilsand enough had drifted, day by day, to keep the gate of the fort frombeing quickly closed. Then, at noon of August 30, they rushed in. Thecommander of the fort had been warned, but he was as foolish as some ofthose officers in the Pontiac war. The garrison, of regulars, militia,and volunteers, fought furiously, in vain. More than three hundred andfifty—soldiers, and the families of settlers, both—were killed; onlythirty persons escaped.

Now it was the days of King Philip, over again, and this time inTennessee, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, instead of inMassachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut. At the news of FortMimms, the settlers fled for protection into towns and block-houses.If the Choctaws, the Chickasaws and other Southern Indians joined inleague with the Creeks, there easily would be fifteen thousand brave,fierce warriors in the field.

However, the Choctaws and Chickasaws enlisted with the United States;Chief Macintosh's friendly Creeks did not falter; and speedily thefiery Andy Jackson was marching down from Tennessee, at the head of twothousand picked men, to crush out the men of Menewa and Weatherford.

Other columns, from Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, alsowere on the trail. The Creeks fought to the death, but they made theirstands in vain. The United States was on a war footing; it had thesoldiers and the guns and the leaders; its columns of militia destroyedtown after town—even the sacred Creek capital where warriors fromeight towns together gathered to resist the invader. Yes, and even thetown built by direction of the prophets and named Holy Ground andprotected by magic.

By the close of 1813, this Jackson Chula Harjo—"Old Mad Jackson," asthe Creeks dubbed him—had proved to be as tough as his later name,"Old Hickory." But Menewa and Weatherford were tough, too. They andtheir more than one thousand warriors still hung out.

In March they were led by their prophets to another and "holier"ground; Tohopeka, or Horseshoe Bend, on the Tallapoosa River in easternAlabama.

The Creek town of Oakfuskee was located below. And here, in 1735, someeighty years before, there had been a fort of their English friends.It was good ground.

Chief Prophet Monahoe and two other prophets, by song and danceenchanted the ground inside the bend, and made it safe from the foot ofany white man. Monahoe said that he had a message from Heaven thatassured victory to the Creeks, in this spot. If the Old Mad Jacksoncame, he and all his soldiers should die, by wrath from a cloud. Hailas large as hominy mortars would flatten them out.

As was well known to the Creeks, Old Mad Jackson was having histroubles. The Great Spirit had sent troubles upon him—had caused hismen to rebel, and his provisions to fail, until acorns were saved andeaten. The United States could not much longer fight the British andthe Indians together. Let the Creeks not give up.

The Horseshoe was rightly named, for a sharp curve of the TallapoosaRiver enclosed about one hundred acres of brushy, timbered bluffs andlow-land, very thick to the foot. The entrance to the neck was onlythree hundred yards wide. On the three other sides the river floweddeep.

Menewa was the field commander of the Red Sticks, at this place. Heshowed a great head—he was half white and half red, but all Creek ineducation. Across the neck, at its narrowest point he had a barricadeof logs erected, from river bank to river bank.

The barricade, of three to five logs piled eight feet high and filledwith earth and rock, was pierced with a double row of port-holes: onerow for the kneeling warriors, and one for the standing warriors. Thebarricade was built in zigzags, along a concave curve, so thatattackers would be cut down by shots from two sides as well as from infront. By reason of the zig-zags it could not be raked from either end.

All around the high ground back of the barricade, trees were laid, andbrush arranged so that the warriors might, if driven, pass back fromcovert to covert, until they reached the huts of the women and childrenand old men, at the river, behind. Here a hundred canoes were drawnup, on the bank, in readiness.

But the Red Sticks of Chief Menewa had no thought of flight. They wereone thousand. Their prophets had assured them over and over that themedicine of the Creek nation was strong, at last; that the Great Spiritwas fighting for them; that the bullets of the Americans would have noeffect, and that the Americans themselves would die before thebarricade was reached. The cloud would come and help the Creeks, withhail—hail like hominy mortars!

On March 24 "Old Mad Jackson," just appointed by President Madison tobe major-general in the United States army, set out against"Crazy-war-hunter" Menewa at Tohopeka.

The way was difficult, through dense timber, swamps and cane-brakes.Alabama, in these days, had been only thinly settled by white people.

He had three thousand men: a part of the 39th U. S. Infantry, athousand Tennessee militia, six hundred friendly Creeks and Cherokees.He had two cannon: a six-pounder and a three-pounder.

His chief assistant was General John Coffee of Alabama, who hadformerly been his business partner. Major Lemuel P. Montgomery, aVirginian of Tennessee, commanded one battalion of the regulars. Hewas six feet two inches, aged twenty-eight, and "the finest looking manin the army." Young Sam Houston, who became the hero of Texasindependence, was a third lieutenant. Head Chief William Macintosh,Menewa's rival, led the Creeks. Chief Richard Brown led the Cherokees.

In the evening of March 26 bold General Jackson viewed the Red Sticks'fort, and found it very strong. He was amazed by the skill with whichit had been laid out. No trained military engineers could have donebetter.

But his Indian spies saw everything—they saw the line of canoes drawnup in the brush along the river bank behind, at the base of the bend;and General Jackson decided to do what the Red Sticks had not expectedhim to do.

Early in the next morning, March 27, he detached General Coffee, withseven hundred mounted men, the five hundred Cherokees and the onehundred Creeks, to make a circuit, cross the river below the bend, andcome up on the opposite side, behind the Horseshoe. This would cut offescape in canoes.

With the remainder of his soldiers he advanced to the direct attackupon the breast-works. He planted his two cannon. At ten o'clock heopened hot fire with the camion and with muskets.

Chief Menewa's Red Sticks were ready and defiant. They answered withwhoops and bullets. Their three prophets, horridly adorned with birdcrests and feathers and jingling charms, danced and sang, to bring thecloud. The balls from the cannon only sank into the damp pine logs,and did no damage. The musket balls stopped short or hissed uselesslyover.

For two hours Old Mad Jackson attacked, from a distance. He had notdared to charge—the prophets danced faster, they chanted higher—theRed Sticks had been little harmed—they whooped gaily—they had faithin their Holy Ground.

But suddenly there arose behind them a fresh hubbub of shots andshouts, and the screams of their women and children; the smoke of theirburning huts welled above the tree-tops. General Coffee, with hismounted men, had completely surrounded the bend, on the opposite sideof the river; his Indians had swum across, had seized the canoes, hadferried their comrades over by the hundred, the soldiers werefollowing—and now the Menewa warriors were between two fires.

At the instant, here came Mad Jackson's troops to charge the barricade.

That was a terrible fight, at the breast-works. Chief Menewaencouraged his men. The test of the Holy Ground protected by the GreatSpirit and the prophets had arrived.

The battle was to decide whether the Creek nation or the Americannation was to rule in Georgia and Alabama, and the Red Sticks mademighty defense. While they raged, they looked for the cloud in the sky.

So close was the fighting, that musket muzzle met musket muzzle, in theport-holes; pistol shot replied to rifle shot; and bullets from the RedSticks were melted upon the bayonets of the soldiers.

Major Lemuel Montgomery sprang upon the top of the barricade. Back hetoppled, shot through the head. "I have lost the flower of my army,"mourned General Jackson, tears in his eyes.

Lieutenant Houston received an arrow in his thigh; and later, twobullets in his shoulder.

Lieutenants Moulton and Somerville fell dead.

Again and again the white warriors were swept from the barricade by theRed Sticks' arrows, spears, tomahawks and balls. Others took theirplaces, to ply bayonets and guns—stabbing, shooting. The uproar inthe rear grew greater, and many of the Red Sticks behind thebreast-works were being shot in the back; the voices of the prophetshad weakened; no cloud appeared in the sky, bearing to the whites deathfrom the Great Spirit.

Beset on all sides, Chief Menewa's men began to scurry back for theirtimber shelters, to fight their way to the river. But no onesurrendered.

Having won the barricade, and cut off the escape of the Red Sticks inthe opposite direction, the white general halted the further attack.He sent a flag of truce forward, toward the jungle.

"If you will stop fighting, your lives will be spared," he ordered theinterpreter to call. "Or else first remove your women and children, sothey will not be killed."

But the anxious eyes of warrior and prophet had seen the Spirit cloudrising, at last, into the sky; high pealed their whoops and chantsagain; a volley of bullets answered the truce flag.

The white soldiers re-opened with musket balls and grape-shot. TheCherokee and Creek scouts, fighting on their side, tried to ferret outthe hiding places. Alas, the cloud proved to be only a little shower,and then vanished. The Great Spirit had deserted the prophets.

The American bullets thickened. With torches and blazing arrows thejungle was set afire. Roasted from their coverts, the Red Sticks hadto flee for the river. When they fled, the rifles of the Tennesseesharp-shooters caught them in mid-stride, or picked them off, in theriver.

Chief Menewa was bleeding from a dozen wounds. He made desperatestand, but the cloud had gone, the fire was roaring, Head ProphetMonahoe was down dead, dead; the Great Spirit had smitten him throughthe mouth with a grape-ball, as if to rebuke him for lying. There wasonly one prophet left alive. Him, Menewa angrily killed with his ownhand; then joined the flight.

He plunged into the river. His strength was almost spent, and he couldnot swim out of reach of the sharp-shooters' bullets. The water wasfour feet deep. So he tore loose a hollow joint of cane; and crouchingunder the water, with the end of the cane stuck above the surface, heheld fast to a root and breathed through the cane.

Here he stayed, under water, for four hours until darkness had cloakedland and river, and the yelling and shooting had ceased. Then, soakedand chilled and stiffened, he cautiously straightened up. He wadedthrough the cane-brake, hobbled all night through the forest, and gotaway.

But he had no army. Of his one thousand Red Sticks eight hundred weredead. Five hundred and fifty-seven bodies were found upon theHorseshoe battle-field. One hundred and fifty more had perished in theriver. Only one warrior was unwounded. Three hundred women andchildren had been captured—and but three men. The Red Sticks of theCreek nation were wiped out.

Of the whites, twenty-six had been killed, one hundred and sevenwounded. Of the Cherokee and Creek scouts, twenty-three had beenkilled, forty-seven wounded.

Chief William Macintosh also had fought bravely, but he had not beenharmed.

The Red Sticks now agreed to a treaty of peace with the United States;and Chief Menewa, scarred from head to foot, was the hero of his band."One of the bravest chiefs that ever lived," is written after his name,by white historians. In due time he again opposed Chief Macintosh, andwon out.

For in 1825 Macintosh was bribed by the white people to urge upon hisnation the selling of the last of their lands in Georgia. He signedthe papers, so did a few other chiefs; but the majority, thirty-six innumber, refused.

Only some three hundred of the Creeks were parties to the signing awayof the land of the whole nation. The three thousand other chiefs andwarriors said that by Creek law, which Chief Macintosh himself hadproposed, the land could not be sold except through the consent of agrand council.

As the nation owned the land, and had built better towns, and wasliving well and peacefully, the council decided that Chief Macintoshmust be put to death—for he was a traitor and he knew the law.

Chief Menewa was asked to consent; he ruled, by reason of his wisdomand his scars. Finally he saw no other way than to order the deeddone, for the Creek law was plain.

On the morning of May 1 he took a party of warriors to the ChiefMacintosh house, and surrounded it. There were some white Georgiansinside. He directed them to leave, as he had come to kill only ChiefMacintosh, according to the law.

So the white men, and the women and children, left. When ChiefMacintosh bolted in flight, he was shot dead.

The Georgia people, who desired the Creek land, prepared for war, or toarrest Menewa and his party. But the President, learning the ins andouts of the trouble, and seeing that the land had not been sold by theCreek nation, ordered the sale held up. The Creeks stayed where theywere, for some years.

Menewa went to war once more, in 1836, and helped the United Statesfight against the Seminoles of Florida. In return for this, he askedpermission to remain and live in his own country of the Creeks. But hewas removed, with the last of the nation, beyond the Mississippi to theIndian Territory.

There, an old man, he died.

CHAPTER XV

BLACK-HAWK THE SAC PATRIOT (1831-1838)

THE INDIAN WHO DID NOT UNDERSTAND

The two small nations of the Sacs and the Foxes had lived as one familyfor a long time. They were of the Algonquian tongue. From thenorthern Great Lakes country they had moved over to the MississippiRiver, and down to Illinois and Iowa. Their number was not more thansix thousand. They were a shave-head Indian, of forest and stream, andaccustomed to travel afoot or in canoes.

The Foxes built their bark-house villages on the west side of theMississippi, in Iowa's "great nose." They called themselvesMus-qua-kees, or the Red Earth People. They said that they had beenmade from red clay. Their totem was a fox; and the French of the GreatLakes had dubbed them Foxes—had asserted that, like the fox, they werequarrelsome, tricky and thievish. As warriors they were much feared.They had lost heavily.

The Sacs built opposite, on the Illinois shore, from Rock River down.They called themselves Saukees, from their word O-sa-ki-wug, or YellowEarth People. They were larger and better looking than the Foxes, andnot so tricky; but their bravery was never doubted.

These two nations together drove out the other Indians in this newcountry. They whipped even the Sioux, who claimed the northern Iowahunting grounds; they whipped the Omahas, Osages and Pawnees of thewest, the Mascoutins to the south, and the Illinois tribes. They werehere to stay.

While the men hunted and fished and went to war, the women raised greatcrops of beans, squashes, melons, potatoes and Indian corn, andgathered the wild rice of the lakes.

Among the Sac leaders was Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak—Big-black-breast,or Black-hawk. Like Little Turtle of the Miamis he had not been born achief; but he was of the Thunder clan, the head clan of the Sacs.

His father was Py-e-sa, a warrior of the rank of braves, and keeper ofthe tribal medicine-bag. His grandfather was Na-na-ma-kee, orThunder—also a brave.

Black-hawk was born in 1767, in Sauk-e-nuk, the principal Sac village,where Rock Island, Illinois, now stands, north of the mouth of the RockRiver.

He won the rank of brave when he was only fifteen years old. He didthis by killing and scalping an Osage warrior, on the war-trail againstthese head-takers. After that he was allowed in the scalp-dances.

He went against the Osages a second time. With seven men he attackedone hundred, and escaped carrying another scalp. When he was eighteen,he and five comrades pierced the Osage country across the MissouriRiver, and got more scalps. When he was nineteen, he led two hundredother braves against the Osages, and killed five Osages with his ownhand.

By his deeds he had become a chief.

In a battle with the Cherokees, below St. Louis, his father Pyesa fell.Young Black-hawk was awarded the medicine-bag—"the soul of the Sacnation."

In the early spring of 1804 a man of the Sac band then living on theMissouri, near St. Louis, to hunt and trade, killed a white man. Hewas arrested. The Sacs and Poxes held a council and chose four chiefsto go to St. Louis and buy their warrior's freedom with presents. Thiswas the Indian way.

The chiefs selected were Pa-she-pa-ho, or Stabber, who was head chiefof the Sacs; Quash-qua-me, or Jumping Fish; Ou-che-qua-ha, or Sun Fish;and Ha-she-quar-hi-qua, or Bear.

They went in the summer of 1804 and were gone a long time. When theyreturned, they were wearing new medals, and seemed ashamed. Theycamped outside of Saukenuk for several days, before they reported incouncil. The man they had been sent to get was not with them.

Finally, in the council they said that they had signed away a greattract of land, mostly on the west side of the Mississippi above St.Louis, in order to buy the warrior's life; they had been drunk whenthey signed—but that was all right. However, when they had signed,the warrior was let out, and as he started to come to them, thesoldiers had shot him dead.

They still were not certain just what land they had signed away. Thatmade the council and people angry. Black-hawk called the chiefs fools.They had no right to sell the land without the consent of the council.After this, the "Missouri band" of the Sacs kept by themselves, indisgrace.

It was too late to do anything more about the treaty. The UnitedStates had it. An Indian gets only one chance—and Head ChiefPashepaho himself had put his mark on the paper. The United States hastwo chances: the first, on the ground; the second, when the paper issent to Washington.

Later it was found that Pashepaho and the others had signed away allthe Sac and Fox lands east of the Mississippi River! That was how thetreaty might be made to read. The payment for many millions of acreswas $2,234.54 down, in goods, and $1,000 a year, in other goods.

But there was one pleasing clause. As long as the United States heldthe land, the Sacs and Foxes might live and hunt there. Any white menwho tried to come in were to be arrested and put off.

At any rate, although Black-hawk raged and said that the treaty was afalse treaty, it stood. The United States officials who had signed itwere men of honest names, and considered that they had acted fairly.But Black-hawk never admitted that.

The United States was to erect a trading post, up the Mississippi, forthe convenience of the Sacs and Foxes. In 1808 soldiers appeared abovethe mouth of the Des Moines River, on the west side of the Mississippi,in southeastern Iowa, and began to build.

This turned out to be not a trading post but a fort, named Fort BelleVue, and afterward, Fort Madison.

The Sacs and Foxes, and their allies, the Potawatomis and Winnebagos,planned to destroy it, and made attacks.

Black-hawk was sore at the Americans. He listened to the words ofTec*mseh and the Prophet, accepted the presents of the British agentswho came to see him, and with two hundred warriors marched to help theBritish in the War of 1812. The British traders had been more generouswith the Indians than the American traders. Now the British father atthe Lakes saluted him as "General Black-hawk."

Only Black-hawk's band went. All the other Sacs and Foxes paidattention to the talk of Keokuk, the Watchful Fox, who was the Sacpeace chief.

Like the great Cornstalk, he said to the people that if they were boundto go to war, they should first put all the women and children "intothe long sleep, for we enter upon a trail that has no turn."

He was called a coward by the Black-hawk band; but the other Sacs andFoxes stayed where they were.

"General" Black-hawk fought beside General Tec*mseh. He asserted thathe was in the big battle when Tec*mseh was killed. When he found thatthe Indians had nothing to gain in the war, he came home. He had donewrong to go at all.

Then he learned that a young man whom he had adopted as a son had beenmurdered, while hunting, by bad whites. They had seized him, tied him,killed him and scalped him. The young man had not been to war, andBlack-hawk could see no reason for the killing. So he set forth inrevenge, and fought a battle with the United States Rangers.

He remained unfriendly. It all dated back to the year 1804, and thetreaty signed by Pashepaho, by which the Sacs had lost their country.

They loved this country. They especially loved Rock Island, in theMississippi—where today is located a Government arsenal.

It was indeed a beautiful island for them. It bore grapes and nuts,and they called it their garden. In a cave there, a kind spirit dwelt,who blessed the land of the Indians. The spirit had white wings, likea swan. But in 1816 the United States built Fort Armstrong right ontop of the cave, and the good spirit flew away, never to come back.The guns of the fort frightened it.

Black-hawk himself had another favorite spot, upon a bluff overlookingthe Mississippi River and his village of Saukenuk. Here he liked tosit. It is still known as Black-hawk's Watch Tower.

After Fort Armstrong was built, and the United States was again atpeace with the other white nations, settlers commenced to edge intothis Sac country of western Illinois. Although by another treaty,which Black-hawk himself had signed, the treaty of 1804 was re-pledgedby the Sacs and Foxes, this all was United States land, and no settlershad any rights to it.

The Indians were unable to put the settlers off, and trouble arose.Once Black-hawk was taken, in the forest, by settlers who accused himof shooting their hogs; they tore his gun from him, and beat him withsticks.

This was such a disgrace to him, that he painted a black mark on hisface, and wore the mark for almost ten years. Only a scalp could wipeit off.

The white trespassers kept coming in. They respected nothing. Theyeven built fences around the corn fields of the principal Sac village,at the mouth of Rock River; they ploughed up the grave-yard there; theytook possession of Black-hawk's own lodge; and when in the spring of1828 the Black-hawk people came back from their winter hunt, they foundthat forty of their lodges had been burned.

Up to this time none of the land had been put on the market by theUnited States. But the Indian agent was trying to persuade the Sacs tomove across the Mississippi, into Iowa. That was for their own good.The white settlers were using whiskey and every other means, to get theupper hand.

Chief Keokuk agreed with the agent. He was not of the rank ofBlack-hawk and the Thunder clan, but he had fought the Sioux, and wasof great courage and keen mind and silver tongue. He was an orator;Black-hawk was a warrior.

So the Sacs split. Keokuk—a stout, heavy-faced man—took his Sacsacross into the country of the Foxes. Black-hawk's band said theywould be shamed if they gave up their village and the graves of theirfathers.

Black-hawk visited some white "chiefs" (judges) who were on RockIsland. He made complaint. He said that he wore a black mark on hisface; but that if he tried to avenge the black mark, by striking awhite man, then the white men would call it war. He said that the Sacsdared not resent having their lodges burned and their corn fieldsfenced and their women beaten, and the graves of their fathers ploughedup.

"Why do you not tell the President?"

"He is too far off. He cannot hear my voice."

"Why do you not write a letter to him?"

"It would be written by white men, who would say that we told lies.Our Great Father would rather believe a white man, than an Indian."

The two judges said that they were sorry for the Sacs, but could donothing.

Now in 1829 the settlers were so anxious to keep the Sac lands at themouth of the Rock River, that the Government put these on the market.This would dispose of Black-hawk's people, for they would have novillage. Whether the other lands were sold, did not matter.

It was done while Black-hawk and his men and women were hunting. Ontheir return to plant their crops, they learned that their village andgrave-yard had been sold to the whites—the most of whom were alreadythere.

So the white people had won out. They in turn asked protection, of theGovernment, from "General Black-hawk" and his band. The Governmentlistened, and ten companies of regular troops were sent to Rock Islandin a steamboat, to remove the Sacs, "dead or alive," to the west sideof the Mississippi.

A council was held with Black-hawk at Fort Armstrong, on Rock Island.Black-hawk rose to speak. He said that the Sacs never had sold theirlands; it had been a mistake, and that they were bound to keep theirvillage.

"Who is this Black-hawk?" retorted General Edmund P. Gaines, thecommander of the troops. "Is he a chief? By what right does he appearin council?"

Black-hawk wrapped his blanket around him and strode angrily out of thecouncil room. But the next morning he made answer.

"My father, you asked yesterday, who is Black-hawk? Why does he sitamong the chiefs? I will tell you who I am. I am a Sac, my father wasa Sac—I am a warrior and so was my father. Ask these young men, whohave followed me to battle, and they will tell you who Black-hawk is.Provoke our people to war, and you will learn who Black-hawk is."

More troops were called, until there were twenty-five hundred. Butseeing so many soldiers marching, Black-hawk took all his people andcamped across the Mississippi, under a white flag.

After this Black-hawk was required to sign another treaty, which madehim say that he had tried to enlist the Potawatomis, Winnebagos andKickapoos in a war against the United States. It did not mention thefact that for a dozen and more years the whites had been warring uponhim by seizing his lands and ploughing his fields and burning hislodges.

The paper also set him down below the other chiefs, who had left theirlands. It set him below Keokuk, and the Fox chiefs—and this hurt himdeeply. All the Sacs and Foxes laughed at the idea of Keokuk, and hislowly clan, being placed above Black-hawk and the Thunder clan.

In these years of trouble, the Black-hawk band had killed or abused nowhite settlers. The so-called "war," on their part, had been a war ofwords and fences. Now they soon were to take up the hatchet.

They had been expelled over the river in this year 1831 too late forplanting crops. The white settlers declined to share with them, fromthe fields at the village of Saukenuk. One night some of the Sacscrossed "to steal roasting-ears from their own fields," as they said.They were shot at by the settlers, and driven off.

This made more bad feeling.

Black-hawk had sent his head warrior, Nah-po-pe, or Soup, up to Canada,to ask council from the British "father" there. He had been "GeneralBlack-hawk" in the British army, and thought that he deserved help.

But the United States and Great Britain had been at peace many years.The British father told Nahpope that if the Sacs never had sold theirland, of course they had a right to live upon it. That was all.

On the way back, Nahpope stopped to see Wa-bo-kie-shiek, or WhiteCloud, who was half Sac and half Winnebago, and a great medicine-man orprophet. He had a village at his Prophet's Town, thirty-five miles upthe Rock River, in Illinois.

White Cloud pretended to rival the Open Door of the Shawnees. He fellinto a trance, and cut several capers, and spoke a message from theGreat Spirit. Let Black-hawk go to war. The Great Spirit would arousethe Winnebagos and the Potawatomis and the British, and the Americanswould be driven away! White Cloud said this out of his own heart,which was black toward the Americans.

He invited Black-hawk to visit him and the Winnebagos and thePotawatomis, raise a summer crop and talk with the Great Spirit.

Much rejoiced, Nahpope hastened to tell the news to his chief. WhenKeokuk heard it, he advised Black-hawk to stay at home. The prophetWhite Cloud was a mischief maker and a liar.

Black-hawk was inclined to listen, and to wait until he was morecertain of the other nations who might join with him. But the youngmen of his band were hot. Unless he did something, Keokuk would appearto be stronger than he. His people looked to him to get back theirvillage and their grave-yard. The black mark on his face had not beenwiped off.

None of Keokuk's Sacs or the Foxes would help him. So in April of 1832he took his men and their families and started up the river from FortMadison, Iowa, for Rock River. The warriors were on horses, the womenand children in canoes.

By the last treaty that he had signed, Black-hawk had promised not tocross to the east side of the Mississippi without the permission of theUnited States. Now he said that he was going up the Rock River, to thecountry of the Winnebagos, his friends, to visit among them and plantcorn and beans.

On the way up the Rock River he was ordered back, by word from GeneralHenry Atkinson, commander at Fort Armstrong.

Black-hawk replied that he had a right to travel peacefully, the sameas white persons. He was going to the Winnebago country, for thesummer.

The general sent another word, that if Black-hawk did not turn around,soldiers would make him turn around.

Black-hawk replied that he was at peace and would stay at peace unlessthe soldiers attacked him. He told his men not to fire first.

Pretty soon he met some Winnebagos and Potawatomis. They said thattheir nations never had sent him any message talking war. They wishedno trouble with the United States. Wabokieshiek had lied.

So Black-hawk decided to give his guests a dog-feast, and then returnhome. He was an old man of sixty-five, and he was too weak to fightalone. He was getting tired.

He had made camp one hundred miles up the Rock River, near Kishwaukee,a few miles below present Rockford, Illinois. By this time, early inMay, all Illinois was alarmed; the regulars and militia were on histrail. They gathered at Dixon, about forty miles down the river fromhis camp.

Major Isaac Stillman took two hundred and seventy-five mounted militia,to scout for Black-hawk. They arrived at Sycamore Creek, within eightmiles of him, and did not see his camp. But Black-hawk knew that theywere there.

He sent out three young men with a white flag, to bring the Americanchiefs to the camp, for a council; then they would all go down-rivertogether. He sent out five young men to follow the three, and see whathappened.

Only three of the five came back. The three with the white flag hadbeen taken prisoners, and the soldiers had chased the others and shottwo.

Black-hawk prepared for war. He had but forty men with him; the restwere out hunting. Presently here came all the white soldiers,galloping and yelling, to ride over him. They were foolish—theyseemed to think that the Sacs would run.

But Black-hawk was old in war. He laid an ambush—his forty warriorswaited, and fired a volley, and charged with the tomahawk and knife,and away scurried the soldiers like frightened deer.

They fled without stopping forty miles to Dixon's Ferry. They reportedthat they had been attacked by fifteen hundred savages. They left alltheir camp stuff. Fourteen soldiers had been killed—but no Indians,except those sent by Black-hawk to treat for peace.

"Stillman's Run," the battle was called.

Black-hawk sat down to smoke a pipe to the Great Spirit, and givethanks. Two of the flag-of-truce party came in. They had escaped.The third young man had been shot while in the soldiers' camp.

The Black-hawk band took the blankets and provisions left in thesoldiers' camp, and proceeded to war in earnest. Of what use was awhite flag? They sent away their families. Some Winnebagos, hearingof the great victory, enlisted.

Now Black-hawk was much feared. General Atkinson fortified hisregulars and militia, at Dixon's Ferry. More volunteers were calledfor, by the governor of Illinois. The Secretary of War at Washingtonordered one thousand additional regulars to the scene, and directedGeneral Winfield Scott himself, the commander of the United States armyin the East, to lead the campaign.

For a little war against a few Indians there were many famous names onthe white man's roll. Among the regulars were General Scott, later thecommander in the war with Mexico; Colonel Zachary Taylor, who haddefended Fort Harrison from Tec*mseh—and probably Black-hawk—in thewar of 1812, and who was to be President; Lieutenant Jefferson Davis,who became president of the Confederate States; Lieutenant AlbertSydney Johnston, who became a Confederate general; Lieutenant RobertAnderson, who commanded Fort Sumter in 1861; and among the volunteerswas Captain Abraham Lincoln.

Black-hawk had about five hundred braves, mainly Sacs and Foxes, with afew Winnebagos and Potawatomis; but when twenty-five hundred soldierswere chasing him through the settlements, he stood little show.

After several skirmishes, and one or two bad defeats, his people wereeating horse-flesh and bark and roots. To save them, he planned to godown the Wisconsin River, in southwestern Wisconsin, and cross theMississippi.

He put his women and children and the old men on rafts and in canoes.They started—but soldiers fired into them, from the banks, killed someand drove the rest into the forest. Many died there, from hunger.

Black-hawk and his warriors, and other women and children, had cutacross by land. When they came to the mouth of the Bad Axe River, atthe Mississippi above the Wisconsin, the armed steamboat Warrior metthem. Sioux were upon the western bank.

Black-hawk decided to surrender. He again raised the white flag, andcalled out to the captain of the Warrior that he wished a boat sentto him, so that he might go aboard and talk peace.

Perhaps the Winnebago interpreter on the Warrior did not translatethe words right. At any rate, the captain of the Warrior assertedthat Black-hawk was only trying to decoy him into ambush. He waitedfifteen minutes, to give the Indian women and children that much timeto hide; then he opened on the white flag with canister and musketry.The first cannon shot "laid out three." In all, he killed twenty-three.

Black-hawk fought back, but he could not do very much against asteamboat in the river.

So he had been unable to surrender, or to cross the Mississippi. Hispeople were frightened, and sick with hunger and wounds. The nextmorning, August 2, he was working hard to get them ready to cross, whenGeneral Atkinson's main army, of four hundred regulars and nine hundredmilitia, fell upon him at the mouth of the Bad Axe.

The Indian women plunged into the Mississippi, with their babes ontheir backs—some of them caught hold of horses' tails, to be towedfaster; but the steamboat Warrior was waiting, sharp-shooters onshore espied them, and only a few escaped, into the hands of the Sioux.

In two hours Black-hawk lost two hundred people, men and women both;the white army lost twenty-seven in killed and wounded.

This finished Black-hawk. He got away, but spies were on his trail,and in a few weeks two Winnebago traitors captured him when he gavehimself up at Fort Crawford, Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin.

He expected to die. He had turned his medicine-bag over to theWinnebago chief at the village of La Crosse, Wisconsin—and he nevergot it back.

He made a speech to the Indian agent, General Joseph Street, at Prairiedu Chien. He said:

You have taken me prisoner with all my warriors. I am much grieved,for I expected to hold out much longer and give you more trouble beforeI surrendered. I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but your lastgeneral understands Indian fighting.

I fought hard, but your guns were well aimed. The bullets flew likebees in the air, and whizzed by our ears like wind through the trees inwinter. My warriors fell around me; I saw my evil day at hand. Thesun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night it sank in a darkcloud, and looked like a ball of fire.

That was the last sun that shone on Black-hawk. His heart is dead. Heis now a prisoner to the white men; they will do with him as they wish.But he can stand torture and is not afraid of death. He is no coward.Black-hawk is an Indian.

He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to be ashamed. He hasfought for his people, against the white men, who have come year afteryear to cheat him and take away his lands.

You know the cause of our making war. It is known to all white men.They ought to be ashamed of it. The white men despise the Indians anddrive them from their homes.

An Indian who is as bad as the white men could not live in our nation;he would be put to death and be eaten up by the wolves. The white menare poor teachers; they shake us by the hand, to make us drunk, andfool us. We told them to let us alone, but they followed us.

Things were growing worse. There were no deer in the forests; thesprings were drying up and our women and children had no food. Thespirits of our fathers arose and spoke to us, to avenge our wrongs, ordie.

Black-hawk is satisfied. He will go to the land of spirits, content.He has done his duty. His father will meet him there and praise him.

He is a true Indian and disdains to cry like a woman. He does not carefor himself. He cares for his nation. They will suffer. Hiscountry-men will not be scalped; the white men poison the heart. In afew years the Indians will be like the white men, and nobody can trustthem. They will need many officers to keep them in order.

Goodby, my nation. Black-hawk tried to save you. He drank the bloodof some of the whites. He has been stopped. He can do no more.

After this, Black-hawk had little authority among the Sacs and Foxes.They respected him, but they looked only to Keokuk for orders andadvice. Keokuk was made rich by the United States, as reward; he gaveout the goods and monies; he ruled, for he had followed the peace trail.

The Black-hawk prisoners were put in charge of Lieutenant JeffersonDavis, at Fort Crawford. Then they were sent down by steamboat toJefferson Barracks, at St. Louis.

There were Black-hawk, his two sons—Nah-se-us-kuk or Whirling Thunder,and Wa-saw-me-saw or Roaring Thunder; White Cloud, the false prophet;Nahpope, the head brave; Ioway, Pam-a-ho or Swimmer, No-kuk-qua orBear's-fat, Pa-she-pa-ho or Little Stabber; and others.

They were forced to wear ball and chain.

"Had I taken the White Beaver [who was General Atkinson] prisoner, Iwould not have treated a brave war chief in this manner," complainedBlack-hawk.

Keokuk, the successful, was kind and tried to get the prisoners freed.But they were sent on to Washington, to see the President. PresidentAndrew Jackson understood Indians, and Black-hawk was pleased with him.

"I am a man; you are another," he greeted, as he grasped PresidentJackson's hand.

"We did not expect to conquer the whites," he explained. "They had toomany houses, too many men. I took up the hatchet to avenge theinjuries to my people. Had I not done so, they would have said,'Black-hawk is a woman. He is too old to be a chief. He is no Sac.'"

From the last of April until June 4 the Black-hawk party was kept inFortress Monroe, Virginia. Then the Indians were started home. Theywere given a long tour, to show them the power of the United States.

They stopped at Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Albany, Buffalo andDetroit. The white people crowded to see the famous Black-hawk and tohear him speak. He received valuable presents. He was treated like achief indeed, and his heart was touched.

When he arrived at Fort Armstrong again, on Rock Island, where he wasto be freed, his heart had somewhat failed. The village of Saukenukhad long ago been leveled in ashes; he returned, a chief without apeople.

Keokuk came, to attend this council, and to receive him back into thenation. Keokuk arrived riding grandly in two canoes lashed side byside; a canopy over him and his wives with him, and medals on hisbreast.

That was rather different from ball and chain, and old Black-hawk'shead sank upon his chest. He felt as bitter as Logan the Mingo hadfelt.

Before he finally settled down in a lodge built near Iowaville on thelower Des Moines River, Iowa, he made other trips through the East.Keokuk went, also—but it was "General Black-hawk" for whom the peopleclamored.

He died on October 3, 1838, at his home. His last speech was made at aFourth of July banquet, at Fort Madison, Iowa, where he was a guest ofhonor.

"Rock River was a beautiful country. I liked my towns, my corn-fields,and the home of my people. I fought for it. It is now yours; keep itas we did. It will bear you good crops.

"I once was a great warrior. I am now poor. Keokuk put me down, butdo not blame him. I am old. I have looked upon the Mississippi sinceI was a child. I love the Great River. I look upon it now. I shakehands with you, and I hope you are my friends."

These were some of his words.

He was seventy-one when he died; a spare, wrinkled old man with sharp,fiery face and flashing eye. He picked out his grave—at a place abouthalf a mile from his cabin, where, he said, he had led his Sacs in agreat battle with the Iowas.

All his people, and the neighboring whites, mourned him. He was buriedsitting up, clad in the uniform given him at Washington, by theSecretary of War. He wore three medals, from President Jackson,ex-President John Quincy Adams, and the City of Boston. Between hisknees was placed a cane presented to him by Henry Clay, the statesman;at his right side was placed a sword presented to him by PresidentJackson.

All his best things were buried with him. They included tobacco, foodand moccasins, to last him on a three days' journey to spirit land.

The grave was covered by a board roof. A United States flag, and apost with his name and age and deeds, were erected over him. A picketfence twelve feet high was built around the grave.

He left an old wife—the only wife that he had ever taken. He thoughta great deal of her. He rarely drank whiskey, he fought it among hispeople; he was opposed to torture; he had treated prisoners kindly; hehad waged war in defense, as he believed, of his own country; andaltogether he had been a good man in his Indian way.

His bones were dug up by a white doctor, and strung on a wire todecorate an office in Illinois. Black-hawk's sons did not like this,and had the bones brought back. They were stored in the historicalcollection at Burlington, where in 1855 a fire burned them.

Black-hawk probably did not care what became of his old bones. He wasdone with them. The white race had over-flowed the land that he loved,and the bones of his fathers, and he had ceased fighting.

CHAPTER XVI

THE BIRD-WOMAN GUIDE (1805-1806)

SACAGAWEA HELPS THE WHITE MEN

This is the story of one slight little Indian woman, aged sixteen, whoopened the trail across the continent, for the march of the UnitedStates flag.

When in March, 1804, the United States took over that French Provinceof Louisiana which extended from the upper Mississippi River west tothe Rocky Mountains, a multitude of Indians changed white fathers.

These Western Indians were much different from the Eastern Indians.They were long-hair Indians, and horse Indians, accustomed to the roughbuffalo chase, and a wide range over vast treeless spaces.

To learn about them and their country, in May, 1804, there started upthe Missouri River, by boats from St. Louis, the famed Governmentexploring party commanded by Captain Meriwether Lewis and CaptainWilliam Clark.

It was an army expedition: twenty-three enlisted men, a hunter, a squadof boatmen, Captain Clark's black servant York, and a squad of othersoldiers for an escort part of the way. In all, forty-three, under thetwo captains.

Their orders were, to ascend the Missouri River to its head; and, ifpossible, to cross the mountains and travel westward still, to theColumbia River and its mouth at the Pacific Ocean of the Oregon country.

No white man knew what lay before them, for no white man ever had madethe trip. The trail was a trail in the dark.

This fall they had gone safely as far as the hewn-timber towns of theMandan Indians, in central North Dakota; here they wintered, and metthe little Bird-woman.

Her Indian name was Sa-ca-ga-we-a, from two Minnetaree words meaning"bird" and "woman." But she was not a Minnetaree, who were a divisionof the Sioux nation, living in North Dakota near the Mandans. She wasa Sho-sho-ni, or Snake, woman, from the distant Rocky Mountains, andhad been captured by the Minnetarees. Between the Minnetarees of theplains and the Snakes of the mountains there was always war.

Now at only sixteen years of age she was the wife of ToussaintChaboneau, a leather-faced, leather-clad French-Canadian trader livingwith the Mandans. He had bought her from the Minnetarees—and how muchhe paid in trade is not stated, but she was the daughter of a chief andrated a good squaw. Toussaint had another wife; he needed a youngerone. Therefore he bought Sacagawea, to mend his moccasins and greethim with a smile for his heart and warm water for his tired feet. Hisold wife had grown rather cross and grunty.

Chaboneau was engaged as interpreter, this winter, and moved over tothe white camp. Sacagawea proved to be such a cheerful, willing littlewoman that the captains and the men made much of her. And when, inFebruary, a tiny boy arrived to her and Toussaint, there was muchdelight.

A baby in the camp helped to break the long dull spell offorty-below-zero weather, when two suns shone feebly through theice-crystaled air.

A thousand miles it was, yet, to the Rocky or Shining Mountains, by theriver trail. In the Mandan towns, and in the American camp, Sacagaweawas the only person who ever had been as far as those mountains. Theywere the home of her people, but nearly three years had passed sinceshe had been taken captive by the Minnetarees.

Could she still speak the Snake tongue? Certainly! Did she rememberthe trail to the country of the Snakes? Yes! Was there a way acrossthe mountains? Yes! Beyond some great falls in the Missouri there wasa gate, by which the Shoshonis came out of the mountains to hunt thebuffalo on the plains. It was there that she had been captured by theMinnetarees. Would the Snakes be friendly to the white men? Yes,unless they were frightened by the white men. Would she like to goback to her own people? Yes! Yes!

That was great luck for Sacagawea, but it was greater luck for the twocaptains. In the spring they broke camp, and taking Chaboneau asinterpreter in case that the hostile Minnetarees were met, and littleSacagawea to spy out the land of the Snakes, and littlest Toussaint,the baby, as a peace sign to all tribes, with a picked party ofthirty-one the two captains started on, up the swollen Missouri.

They made no mistake, in the Bird-woman. Of course she was used toroughing it; that was the life of an Indian woman—to do the hard workfor the men, in camp and on the trail. But Sacagawea early showedgreat good sense.

Her husband Chaboneau almost capsized their canoe, by his clumsiness.She neither shrieked nor jumped; but calmly reaching out from it, withher baby tightly held, she gathered in the floating articles. Shesaved stuff of much value, and the captains praised her.

"She's a better man than her husband," asserted the admiring soldiers.

After hard travel, fighting the swift current, the strong winds, stormsof rain and sleet, and monster grizzly bears, the expedition arrived atthe Great Falls, as the Bird-woman had promised.

She had ridden and waded and trudged, like the rest. She had carriedher baby on her back, and had built the fires for her husband, andcooked his meals, and kept right along with the men, and had notcomplained nor lagged.

At the Great Falls she was not so certain of the best route. This wasa strange country to her, although she had known that the Falls werehere. The Shining Mountains were in sight; the land of the Shoshonislay yonder, to the southwest. All right.

The captains chose what seemed to be the best route by water, andheaded on, to the southwest. Sacagawea gazed anxiously, right, left,and before. Her heart was troubled. She not only much desired to findher people, for herself, but she desired to help the great captains."The fate of the whole party" depended upon her—and she was just aslight little Indian woman!

The Snakes did not come down, by this way. It was too far north; itwas the haunts of their enemies the Blackfeet and the Minnetarees, ofwhom they were deathly afraid. They were a timid mountain folk, poorlyarmed to fight the Sioux, who had obtained guns from traders down theMissouri.

After a time the river narrowed still more, and between rough bankspoured out from a canyon of high cliffs, black at their base and creamyyellow above.

"The Gate of the Mountains, ain't it?" passed the hopeful word.Sacagawea agreed. She had heard of this very "gate," where the riverburst into the first plains.

"When we come to the place where the river splits into three parts,that is Shoshoni country—my people will be there."

On forged the boats, poled and hauled and rowed, while the men's soggymoccasins rotted into pieces, and the mosquitoes bit fiercely. The twocaptains explored by land. Hunting was forbidden, lest the reports ofthe guns alarm the Snakes.

Abandoned Indian camp-sites were found, but the big-horn sheep peeredcuriously down from the tops of the cliffs along the river, and thatwas not a good sign. The game was too tame.

Captain Clark the Red Head took the advance, by land, to look for theIndians. Captain Lewis, the young Long Knife Chief, commanded theboats. Small United States flags were erected in the bows of each, asa peace signal.

The boats reached an open place, where the river did indeed split intoseveral branches.

"The Three Forks," nodded Sacagawea, brightly. "These are the ThreeForks. We are on the right trail to the land of my people. Now Iknow."

The party proceeded at top speed. The southwest fork seemed to be thebest, for boating. The stream shallowed. At the next camp Sacagaweawas more excited.

"She say here in dis spot is where de Snake camp was surprise' by deMinnetaree, five years ago, an' chase' into de timber," announcedDrouillard the hunter. "De Minnetaree keel four warrior an' capturefour boy an' all de women. She was capture' here, herself."

Hurrah! the trail was getting warm. The canoes had to be hauled bytow-lines, with Sacagawea proudly riding in one of them and helping tofend off with a pole. She had not been here since she was a girl ofeleven or twelve, but she caught more landmarks.

"Dat is w'at ze Snake call ze Beaver's Head," proclaimed Chaboneau,whose feet had given out. "Ze Snake spen' deir summer 'cross zemountains jes' ze odder side. She t'ink we sure to meet some on disside, to hunt ze boof'lo. Mebbe furder up one leetle way."

Captain Lewis took three men and struck out, to find an Indian trailand follow it into the mountains.

"I'll not come back until I've met with the Snakes," he asserted.

He was gone a long time. The shallow river, full of rapids and shoals,curved and forked and steadily shrank. But although Sacagawea eagerlypeered, and murmured to herself, no Indians appeared.

The water was icy cold, from the snow range. This was middle August,in extreme southwestern Montana (a high country). The nights werecold, too. Game grew scarce. Three thousand miles had been loggedoff, from St. Louis. Unless the company could get guides and horsesfrom the Snakes, and travel rapidly, they would be stuck, for thewinter—likely enough starve; at any rate be forced to quit.

By August 16 Captain Lewis had not returned. Captain Clark set outafoot, with Sacagawea and Chaboneau, to walk across country. TheSnakes simply must be found.

The toiling boats rounded a great bend, and a shout arose.

"There's Clark! He's sighted Injuns, hasn't he?"

"So has Sacagawea! Sure she has! See?"

"Injuns on horseback, boys! Hooray!"

For Captain Clark, yonder up the curve, was holding high his hand, palmfront, in the peace sign. Sacagawea had run ahead, little Toussaintbobbing in the net on her back; she danced as she ran; she ran backagain to him, sucking her fingers.

"Dat mean she see her own peoples!" panted Cruzatte the chief boatman,who was a trapper and trader, too, and knew Indians. "Dere dey come,on de hoss. Hooray!"

"Hooray!"

What a relief! The Indians were prancing and singing. They made thecaptain mount one of the horses, and all hustled on, for an Indian camp.

By the time that the hurrying canoes arrived, Sacagawea and anotherwoman had rushed into each other's arms. Presently they and thecaptain and Chaboneau had entered a large lodge, built of willowbranches. The Captain Lewis squad was here, too. The men had comedown out of the mountains, by a pass, with the Snakes. The Snakes hadbeen afraid of them—the first white men ever seen by the band. OldDrouillard the hunter had argued with them in the sign language andwith a few Shoshoni words that he knew.

It had looked like war—it had looked like peace—and it had lookedlike war, and death, again. Finally, before he could persuade them,the captain had delivered over his guns, and had promised them to betheir prisoner if they did not find, down below, one of their own womenacting as the white men's guide.

But now all was well. The token of Sacagawea saved the day. The otherwoman, whom she hugged, had been captured by the Minnetarees, at thesame time with herself, and had escaped.

And the chief of the band was Sacagawea's brother. He had mourned heras dead, but now he and she wept together under a blanket. Truly, hehad reason to be grateful to these white strangers who had treated herso well.

Much relieved by this good fortune at last, the captains bought horsesand hired guides. The Snakes were very friendly; even engaged not todisturb the canoes, which were sunk with rocks in the river to awaitthe return trip.

There was little delay. The mountains should be crossed at once,before winter closed the trails. To the surprise and delight of allthe company, Sacagawea announced that she was going with them, to seethe Great Salt Water. Somehow, she preferred the white men to her ownpeople. She had been weeping constantly. Most of her relatives andold friends had died or had been killed, during her absence. Her newfriends she loved. They were a wonderful set, these white men—and theRed Head, Captain Clark, was the finest of all.

Six horses had been bought. Five were packed with the supplies;Sacagawea and little Toussaint were mounted upon the sixth, and thewhole company, escorted by the Snakes, marched over the pass to ChiefCa-me-ah-wait's principal camp.

From there, with twenty-seven horses and one mule, with the happyBird-woman and the beady-eyed Toussaint, the two captains and their mentook the trail for the Great Salt Water, one thousand miles toward thesetting sun. Ah, but a tough trail that proved, across the Bitter RootMountains; all up and down, with scarcely a level spot to sleep on;with the snow to the horses' bellies and the men's thighs; with thegame failing, until even a horse's head was treasured as a tidbit.

And the Bird-woman, riding in the exhausted file, never complained, butkept her eyes fixed to the low country and the big river and the GreatSalt Water.

Once, in the midst of starvation, from her dress she fished out a smallpiece of bread that she had carried clear from the Mandan towns. Shegave it to Captain Clark, that he might eat it. A brave and faithfulheart had Sacagawea.

Struggling down out of the mountains, at the end of September, theychanged to canoes. The Pierced Noses, or Nez Percés Indians, werefriendly; and now, on to the Columbia and thence on to the sea,Sacagawea was the sure charm. For when the tribes saw the strangewhite warriors, they said, "This cannot be a war party. They have asquaw and a papoose. We will meet with them."

That winter was spent a few miles back from the Pacific, near the mouthof the Columbia River in present Washington.

Only once did the Bird-woman complain. The ocean was out of sight fromthe camp. Chaboneau, her husband, seemed to think that she was madefor only work, work, work, cooking and mending and tending baby.

"You stay by ze lodge fire. Dat is place for womans," he rebuked.Whereupon Sacagawea took the bit in her teeth (a very unusual thing fora squaw to do) and went straight to Captain Clark, her friend.

"What is the matter, Sacagawea?"

She had been crying again.

"I come a long way, capitin. I carry my baby, I cold, hungry, wet,seeck, I come an' I no care. I show you trail; I say 'Snake peopleshere,' an' you find Snakes. You get hosses, food, guide. When Indianssee me an' my Toussaint, dey say 'Dis no war party,' an' dey kind toyou. When you get hungry for bread, I gif you one leetle piece dat Icarry all de way from Mandan town. I try to be good woman. I workhard, same as mens. Now I been here all dis time, near de salt waterdat I trabble many days to see—an' I not see it yet. Dere is a beegfish, too. Odders go see—I stay. Nobody ask Sacagawea. My man hesay 'You tend baby!' I—I feel bad, capitin." And she hid her face inher blanket.

"By gracious, go you shall, Sacagawea, and see the salt water and thebig fish," declared Captain Clark. "Chaboneau can stay home and tendbaby!"

However, the Bird-woman took little Toussaint, of course; and they twoviewed in wonderment the rolling, surging, thundering ocean; and theimmense whale, one hundred and five feet long, that had been castashore. It is safe to assert that to the end of her days Sacagaweanever forgot these awesome sights.

In the spring of 1806 the homeward journey was begun. On the Missouriside of the mountains the Bird-woman was detailed to help Captain Clarkfind a separate trail, to the Yellowstone River.

And this she did, in splendid fashion; for when the party knew notwhich way was the best way, out of the surrounding hills, to theplains, she picked the landmarks; and though she had not been here inmany years, she showed the gap that led over and down and brought themstraight to the sunken canoes.

On August 14 the whole company was at the Mandan towns once more.After her absence of a year and a half, and her journey of six thousandmiles, bearing little Toussaint (another great traveler) Sacagaweamight gaily hustle ashore, to entertain the other women with herbursting budget of stories.

The captains offered to take Chaboneau and Sacagawea and Toussaint ondown to St. Louis. The Bird-woman would gladly have gone. She wantedto learn more of the white people's ways. She wanted to be white,herself.

But Chaboneau respectfully declined. He said that it would be astrange country, and that he could not make a living there; later, hemight send his boy, to be educated by the captains. That was all.

So he was paid wages amounting to five hundred dollars and thirty-threecents. Sacagawea was paid nothing. The captains left her to herIndian life, and she followed them only with her heart.

Nevertheless, she did see her great Red Head Chief again. CaptainClark was appointed by the President as Indian agent with headquartersin St. Louis. He was a generous, whole-souled man, was thisrusset-haired William Clark, and known to all the Indians of the plainsas their stanch friend.

So it is probable that he did not forget Sacagawea, his loyalBird-woman. In 1810 she, the boy Toussaint, and Chaboneau, visited inSt. Louis. In 1811 they were on their way up-river, for the Indiancountry. Life among the white people had proved too much for thegentle Sacagawea. She had tried hard to live their way, but their waydid not agree with her. She had sickened, and she longed for thelodges of the Shoshonis. Chaboneau, too, had become weary of acivilized life.

Sacagawea at last returned to her "home folks" the Snakes. No doubtChaboneau went with her. But there is record that he was United Statesinterpreter, in 1837, on the upper Missouri; and that he died ofsmall-pox among the Mandans, soon afterward.

The Bird-woman out-lived him. She and her boy removed with the Snakesto the Wind River reservation, Wyoming; and there, near Fort Washakie,the agency, she died on April 9, 1884, aged ninety-six years, and maybemore.

A brass tablet marks her grave. A mountain peak in Montana has beennamed Sacagawea Peak. A bronze statue of her has been erected in theCity Park of Portland, Oregon. Another statue has been erected in thestate capitol at Bismarck, North Dakota.

So, although all the wages went to her husband, she knows that thewhite people of the great United States remember the loving services ofthe brave little Bird-woman, who without the promise of pay, helpedcarry the Flag to the Pacific.

CHAPTER XVII

THE LANCE OF MAHTOTOHPA (1822-1837)

HERO TALES BY FOUR BEARS THE MANDAN

While the United States was getting acquainted with the WesternIndians, there lived among the Mandans in the north a most notedhero—the chief Mah-to-toh-pa, or Four Bears.

Young Captain Lewis the Long Knife Chief, and stout Captain Clark theRed Head, who with their exploring party wintered among the Mandans in1804-1805, and enlisted the Snake Bird-woman as guide, were the firstwhite men to write a clear account of the curious Mandans; but they didnot tell the half.

For a curious people indeed were these Mandans, dwelling in twovillages on the Missouri River above present Washburn in central NorthDakota.

They were polite, hospitable, and brave. Their towns were defended byditches and loose timber palisades, not tight like those of theIroquois and Hurons. Their houses were circular; of an earthern floorsunk two feet, and heavy six-foot logs set on end inside the edge ofit, with a roof of timbers, woven willow, and thick mud-plaster; with asunken fire-place under a hole in the center of the roof, and withbunks, screened by elk-hides or buffalo-robes, along the walls.

These houses were large enough to shelter twenty to forty persons; theroofs were favorite loafing spots, for men, women, and dogs.

The Mandans formed a happy, talkative people, of strange appearance,but exceedingly clean, fond of bathing, either in the river or inwicker tubs. Their hair was heavy, sometimes reached to the ground,and was black, brown, and frequently gray or pure white even on theyoung. Their eyes were likely to be hazel, blue or gray, instead ofblack; their skin almost white. They made glassy clay vases and bowls,and remarkable blue glass beads. In fact, they seemed to have whitemanners, white arts, and white blood. Rumor asserted that they werepartly Welsh, descended from the lost colony of the Welsh prince, Madoc.

Now this Madoc, a prince of the early Welsh people, set sail about theyear 1180, with ten ships, to found a colony in a new Western continentthat he claimed to have discovered.

He never was heard from. He and his ten shiploads vanished. But if hereached North America, and traveled inland, to be swallowed up amidstthe red blood, the strange Mandans may have been the proof of hisarrival.

Their round boats, of bowl-like wicker-work covered with hide, andtheir way of dipping the paddle from the front instead of from therear, were exactly the Welsh method of canoe travel.

In the days of Mah-to-toh-pa the Mandans numbered two thousand, in twotowns allied with the towns of the Minnetarees. They were beset by thetough, winter-traveling Assiniboins to the north, and by thetreacherous Arikarees and the bold Sioux to the south. Therefore whenin 1833 the wandering artist George Catlin of Pennsylvania, who spenteight years painting Indians in their homes all the way from Florida tothe Rocky Mountains, made a long stay among the Mandans, they rejoicedhim by their brave tales as well as with their curious habits.

According to all the reports, the "bravest of the braves" in the Mandantowns was Mahtotohpa; second chief by rank, but first of all by deeds."Free, generous, elegant, and gentlemanly in his deportment—handsome,brave and valiant," says Artist Catlin. Such words speak well for FourBears, but not a bit too well.

Before he arrived at the Artist Catlin lodge to have his portraitpainted, the warning ran ahead of him: "Mahtotohpa is coming in fulldress!" He was escorted by a great throng of admiring women andchildren. Now it was twelve o'clock noon, and he had been since earlymorning getting ready, so as to appear as befitted a noble chief.

His dress was complete: shirt, leggins, moccasins, head-dress,necklace, belt, robe, medicine-bag, tobacco sack, pipe, quiver, bow,knife, lance, shield, tomahawk and war-club. And as he proudly stooderect, waiting, he made a splendid sight.

His shirt was mountain-sheep skins, one before, one behind, sewedtogether at their edges. They were embroidered with porcupine quillsbrightly dyed, and fringed with the black scalp-locks of the enemieswhom he had slain in combat, and tasseled with ermine tails. They werepictured with his deeds, painted in sign language.

The leggins were of finely dressed deer-skin, worked with the porcupinequills, fringed with the scalp-locks, and fitting tightly frommoccasins to thighs.

The moccasins were of buck-skin, armored with the dyed quills.

The head-dress was a crest of two polished buffalo horns set in a thickmat of ermine, from which fell clear to his heels a ridgy tail ofcountless eagle plumes also set in the ermine fur.

The necklace was of fifty grizzly-bear claws, strung from otter skin.

The belt was of tanned buck-skin, supporting tomahawk and broad-bladedscalping knife with elk-horn haft.

The robe slung from his shoulders like a Roman toga was the softenedhide of a young buffalo bull worn fur side in; and on the white skinside all the battles of his life had been painted.

The medicine-bag was a beaver skin, ornamented with hawk-bills andermine. He held it in his right hand.

His tobacco sack was of otter skin decorated with porcupine quills. Init were dried red-willow bark, flint and steel, and tinder.

His pipe was of curiously carved red pipe-stone from the peace quarriesin present Minnesota. The stem was ash, three feet long, wound withporcupine quills to form pictures of men and animals; decorated withwood-peckers' skins and heads, and the hair of the white buffalo'stail. It was half painted red, and notched for the years of his life.

His quiver was of panther skin and filled with arrows, flint pointedand steel pointed, and some bloody.

His bow was of strips of elk-horn polished white, cemented with glue ofbuffalo hoof, and backed with deer sinews to give it spring. Threemonths had been required to make it. There was none better.

His lance had a deadly two-edge steel blade, stained with the driedblood of Sioux and Arikaree and Cheyenne and Assiniboin. The six-footashen shaft was strung with eagle feathers.

His shield was the hide from a buffalo's neck, hardened with hoof glue.Its center was a pole-cat skin; its edges were fringed with eaglefeathers and antelope hoofs that rattled.

His battle-axe was of hammered iron blade and skull-pecker, with ashhandle four feet long and deer-sinew grip. Eagle feathers and furtufts decorated it.

His war-club was a round stone wrapped in raw-hide at the end of acow-tail, like a policeman's billy.

After his portrait was painted, Mahtotohpa spread out his wonderfulrobe, and told the stories of the twelve battles and the fourteenscalps pictured on it by his own hand; and these stories included thatof his Arikaree lance, and Cheyenne knife.

The lance story came about in this way. In the shaft of the lance,near the blade, there had been set an antelope prong; and whenMahtotohpa posed for his portrait, with the butt of the lance proudlyplanted on the ground, he carefully balanced an eagle feather acrossthis prong.

"Do not omit to paint that feather exactly as it is," he said, "and thespot of blood upon it. It is great medicine, and belongs to the GreatSpirit, not to me. I pulled it from the wound of an enemy."

"Why do you not tie it to the lance, then?"

"Hush!" rebuked Mahtotohpa. "If the Great Spirit had wished it to betied on, it would never have come off."

Whereupon, presently, he told the story of the mighty lance. This hadbeen the lance of a famous Arikaree warrior, Won-ga-tap. Some yearsback, maybe seven or eight, the Mandans and the Arikarees had met onhorses near the Mandan towns, and had fought. The Mandans chased theArikarees, but after the chase the brother of Mahtotohpa did not comein.

Several days passed; and when Mahtotohpa himself found his brother, itwas only the body, scalped and cut and pierced with an arrow, andfastened through the heart to the prairie by the lance of Won-ga-tap.

Many in the village recognized that as the lance of Won-ga-tap.Mahtotohpa did not clean it of its blood, but held it aloft before allthe village and swore that he would clean it only with the blood ofWongatap the Arikaree.

He sent a challenge to the Arikarees; and for four years he waited,keeping the lance and hoping to use it as he had promised. Finally hisheart had grown so sore that he was bursting; and again holding thelance up before the village, he made a speech.

"Mahtotohpa is going. Let nobody speak his name, or ask where he is,or try to seek him. He will return with fresh blood on this lance, orhe will not return at all."

He set out alone, on foot, like Piskaret, the Adirondack, had set outin his great adventure against the Iroquois. By night journeys hetraveled two hundred miles, living on the parched corn in his pouch,until he was seven days hungry when at last he came to the Arikareetown where the lodge of Wongatap was located.

He knew the village well, for there had been brief periods when theMandans and the Arikarees were at peace; besides, it was a warrior'sbusiness to know an enemy's lodges.

The Arikaree towns were much the same as the Mandan towns. NowMahtotohpa lay outside and watched, until at dusk he might slip throughbetween the pickets, and seek the lodge of Wongatap. He was envelopedin a buffalo robe, covering his head, so that he would be taken for anArikaree.

He peeped through a crack in the Wongatap lodge and saw that his enemywas getting ready for bed. There he was, Wongatap himself, sittingwith his wife in the fire-light, and smoking his last pipe. Prettysoon, as the fire flickered out, he rapped the ashes from his pipe, hiswife raked the coals of the fire together, until morning; and now theytwo crawled into their bunk.

Hotly grasping his lance, and surrounded by the enemy, Mahtotohpadelayed a little space; then he arose and boldly stalked into the lodgeand sat by the fire.

Over the coals was hanging a pot of cooked meat; beside the fire werethe pipe and the pouch of red-willow smoking tobacco, just as left byWongatap.

Amidst the dusk Mahtotohpa ate well of the cooked meat; and filling thepipe, smoked calmly, half lying down, on one elbow.

"Who is that man, who enters our lodge and eats of our food and smokesof our tobacco?" he heard Wongatap's wife ask.

"It is no matter," Wongatap replied. "If he is hungry, let him eat."

That was right. By Indian law a person in need may enter any lodge,and eat, and no questions shall be asked until he has finished.

Mahtotohpa's heart almost failed him. Had that not been the killer ofhis brother, he would only have left a challenge, and gone away. Buthe thought of his brother, and his vows, and his heart closed again.

When his pipe was smoked out, he laid it aside, and gently stirred thefire with the toe of his moccasin, for more light. He dared to wait nolonger. On a sudden he grasped his lance with both hands, sprang upand drove it through the body of Wongatap, in the bunk.

With his knife he instantly snatched off the scalp. Then he utteredthe Mandan scalp-halloo, and dived for the door. There he paused, forjust a second, to look back, that the squaw might see his face—and inthe glimmer of fire-light he noted a feather from the lance sticking inthe hole in Wongatap's side.

So back he darted, plucked the feather, and carrying it in his lefthand, that the Great Spirit might help him, he ran hard. Wongatap'swife was shrieking; all the village heard and answered, and thewarriors streamed out of the lodges.

The whole night Mahtotohpa ran, while the Arikarees vainly searched forhis trail. This day he hid, in the brush along the Missouri River.The next night he ran again; and on the sixth morning he panted intothe Mandan town, with the dried blood of Wongatap on his lance's bladeand the stiffened scalp of Wongatap hanging to its handle.

So that was why he cherished the lance, and that was why he consideredthe loose eagle's feather to be a strong medicine from the Great Spirit.

But this was only Number Six, in the twelve recorded deeds of FourBears.

His next-biggest deed was as follows, and it is bigger, according towhite man's way of thinking. By that deed he won his knife.

Early one morning one hundred and fifty Cheyenne warriors attacked theMandan town. They took a scalp and many horses before they rode away.The Mandans had been surprised; but Mahtotohpa rallied fifty warriorsand pursued.

The fifty warriors led by Mahtotohpa pursued for a day and half a day.At noon they sighted the Cheyennes driving the stolen horses; but theCheyennes were so numerous that the Mandan warriors lost their heartsand wished to turn back.

Not so, Mahtotohpa! He galloped forward alone; he planted his lance inthe earth, to the full length of the blade; and making a circle aroundit with his horse he tore from his clothing a strip of red cloth andhung that to the lance shaft, for a banner.

"If you are cowards, you may go back to the women," he called to hismen. "I stay here, where my lance is firm in the ground."

His men were ashamed, and hesitated. Now the Cheyennes had turned andwere coming for battle. Their chief saw the planted lance ofMahtotohpa, and Mahtotohpa waiting beside it, and he galloped forward,alone, on his white horse.

"Who is it that has stuck down his lance, and defies the Cheyennes?" heshouted.

"I am Mahtotohpa."

"That is good. Mahtotohpa is a chief. Does he dare to fight?"

"Is this a chief who speaks to Mahtotohpa?"

"I wear scalps at my horse's bit, and the eagle's feathers."

"You have said enough," replied Mahtotohpa. "Come. Let us meet."

Forward hammered the Cheyenne chief, riding splendidly in circles,until he dashed in and planted his lance, also, at the side ofMahtotohpa's lance. That was his answer.

They each drew off a little way, while the Mandan warriors and theCheyenne warriors gazed expectant. Then they charged like knights in atournament, and shot at the same moment with their guns. After theyhad passed each other, and had wheeled, Mahtotohpa held up hispowder-horn. The Cheyenne's bullet had smashed it, so that the powderhad flowed out.

Having shown, Mahtotohpa flung away his horn, threw his gun to theground, and setting his buffalo-hide shield upon his left arm,deliberately strung his bow and placed an arrow upon the string.

The Cheyenne chief was a mighty warrior. He likewise cast aside hispowder-horn and gun, adjusted his painted shield, prepared bow andarrow. Again they charged. They circled swiftly about each other,performing many clever feats of horsemanship, while their stout bowstwanged so fast that the arrows crisscrossed like darting bees.

Some thudded into the thick shields, and the shields bristled with thefeathered ends. Some found legs and arms—but that mattered little.Now Mahtotohpa's horse reeled and fell, an arrow in his heart.Mahtotohpa sprang nimbly off. And off from his own horse sprang theCheyenne chief, that he might not have the advantage.

They plied their bows, on foot. Soon the brave Cheyenne stripped hisquiver from his left shoulder and flourished it. It was empty. Hetossed it away, and tossed away bow and shield. Then he drew his knife.

"Ai!" responded Mahtotohpa, gladly; and ridding himself of shield andquiver he rushed forward, feeling for his knife, too.

But his knife was not in his belt. He had lost it, or left it at home!Hah! He could not stop—they had come together—the Cheyenne was uponhim. So he fought with his bow. He struck aside the Cheyenne'sthrust, and hit him over the head and knocked him down. They grappled.It was a terrible fight.

Mahtotohpa clutched for the knife, and the sharp blade was wrenchedthrough his hand, cutting to the bone. The Cheyenne stabbed him manytimes, and many times Mahtotohpa clutched the knife blade again, beforehe could tear the haft from the Cheyenne's fingers.

But suddenly he succeeded, and the Cheyenne died. The warriors of bothparties had formed a circle close about, watching. Mahtotohpastaggered up, with the Cheyenne's scalp and knife, and gave the killwhoop—and thus victory rested with the Mandans.

That was Mahtotohpa's most famous battle. In another battle he got hisname, Four Bears. The Assiniboins had put all his warriors to flight;but he stood his ground, and shot his gun and killed an Assiniboin, andcharged with lance and shield, and made them run off. He took sixtyhorses, besides the scalp. After this he was called Four Bears,because the Assiniboins said that he charged "like four bears in one."

His worst wound he received from the Sioux. They shot an arrow clearthrough his body, so that the arrow continued on, dropping blood. Buthe lashed his horse forward, against them, and won another victory.

Such honorable scars he kept covered with red paint, that all who sawmight read.

These stories, and others, as pictured by the robe, Mahtotohpa told toArtist Catlin, while Indian trader James Kipp translated the words, andFour Bears acted out the scenes; and they three sat upon the robeitself.

The Cheyenne chief's knife he gave to Artist Catlin. He also made acopy of the pictures, on another robe, and the knife and the secondrobe were sent to the Catlin Indian gallery, at Washington, where theydoubtless may be seen at this day.

Mahtotohpa's end came to him as follows:

In the summer of 1837, a great death attacked the Mandan towns. It wasthe small pox. The Sioux hedged the towns so closely that there was noescape into the prairie. The Mandan men, women and children, thusherded together, died by hundreds.

Mahtotohpa was among the last left. He witnessed all his family andfriends stretched cold and lifeless, and he decided to try a sacrificeto the anger of the Great Spirit.

So he dragged his wives and children together and covered them decentlywith buffalo robes. Then he went out to a little hill, and laidhimself down, with a vow not to eat or drink, if the Great Spirit wouldstay the plague.

On the sixth day he was very weak; but he crept back to his lodge, andagain laid himself down, in a robe, beside his family. And on theninth day, he, too, died.

However, the plague was not stayed for many days. Of the sixteenhundred Mandans in the two towns, only thirty-one remained alive; ofall the Mandan nation there were scarce above one hundred; and todaythey number about one hundred and fifty.

CHAPTER XVIII

A SEARCH FOR THE BOOK OF HEAVEN (1832)

THE LONG TRAIL OF THE PIERCED NOSES

The Nez Percés or "Pierced Noses" really were not Pierced Noses anymore than any other Indians; for the North American red men, thecountry over, wore ornaments in their noses when they chose to.

But as the Pierced Noses this nation in the far Northwest was known.They were members of the Sha-hap-ti-an family of North Americans—afamily not so large as the Algonquian, Siouan, Shoshonean and severalother families, yet important.

Their home was the valley and river country of western Idaho, and thenear sections of Oregon and Washington. The two captains, Lewis andClark, were well treated by them along the great Snake River, above theentrance to the greater Columbia.

They were a small Indian; a horse Indian who lived on buffalo as wellas fish, and scorned to eat dog like the Sioux; a brave fightingIndian; and withal a very honest, wise-minded Indian, whose boast, upto 1877, was that they had never shed the white man's blood.

They used canoes, but they used horses more. Horses were their wealth.They raised horses by the thousand, and the finest of horses thesewere. A fat colt was good meat, but without horses they could not huntthe buffalo and the buffalo supplied stronger meat.

Once a year, when the grass had greened in the spring, they traveledeastward, across the Rocky Mountains by the Pierced NoseTrail-to-the-buffalo, and hunted upon the Missouri River plains, in thecountry of their enemies the Blackfeet.

The Blackfeet, in turn, sought them out, west of the mountains, tosteal their horses. With the Blackfeet and the Sioux, and sometimeswith the Snakes, they fought many a battle; and when they had anythingof a show, they won out. It took numbers to whip a Pierced Nosewarrior. Like most peace-lovers, he made the hardest kind of a fighter.

The early whites in the Northwest had nothing but praise for thePierced Nose Indians. The trapper who married a Pierced Nose womanthought that he was lucky. She would be a good wife for him—gentle,neat and always busy. Besides, as a rule the Nez Percés women werebetter looking than the general run of Indian women.

The early fur-hunters and explorers found that the Pierced Noses werevery religious, in a way akin to the Christian way. They did not eat,drink nor sleep without first giving thanks to God. They had one dayeach week, like Sunday, when they did not hunt or fish or work, butlistened to talks by their priests or medicine-men.

It was said that they had been taught first by a Christian IroquoisIndian, who in 1816 came in from Canada and told them the things thathe had been told by the French priests. At any rate, when the RomanCatholic priests themselves arrived to live among them, these PiercedNoses already had learned a great deal. They were anxious to learnmore.

However, before the missionaries of any church visited them, thePierced Noses tried to learn more, by themselves. In particular, theywanted a copy of the Book of Heaven. And what started them on thetrail of the Book of Heaven, was this:

Among the leaders of white fur-hunters in beaver-trapping days in thewest, there was Trapper-Captain Jedediah S. Smith—the Knight inBuckskin. This Captain Jedediah Smith was fearless and upright.Hunting beaver, he traveled far and wide, from the Missouri River toCalifornia, and from New Mexico to the Columbia, protected only by hisrifle and his Bible.

Wherever he carried his rifle, he carried his Bible; used them both,and no man but that respected him. The Comanches of the Southwestfinally killed him, in 1831, when fighting alone against great odds hedied a real hero's death.

He had spent the winter of 1824-1825 in the Pierced Noses' country. Ofcourse he told them much about the white man's religion. They saw himfrequently reading in his little, black-leather book, which, they said,must be the White Man's Book of Heaven. He would not sell them thebook, for any amount of horses or beaver skins. When he had left, theytook counsel together and decided that they should get such a book.

Twice they sent into the East for it; and no word came back. But thePierced Noses did not give up. They were still without the wonderfulBook of Heaven which, had said Captain Jedediah Smith the trapper,guided the white men on the straight trail to the Great Spirit above.

In the early part of 1832 they called a council of the nation, andchose four men, to set out, again, for the big, unknown village wheredwelt the Red Head Chief, and where, they hoped, a copy of the Book ofHeaven might be found.

The snows had scarcely melted when the four men started. Two of themwere old and wise; their names are not written. Two of them were youngand strong; their names were Rabbit-skin Leggins andNo-horns-on-his-head.

A long, long, dangerous road lay before them: three thousand miles,across the mountains into the Blackfeet country, and across the plainsguarded by the Blackfeet and the Sioux and other hungry people as bad.

But they got through all right, for they were clever and in earnest.They arrived at St. Louis in the summer.

St. Louis was then nothing like the St. Louis of today; but to the fourstrangers from the Columbia River basin it was amazingly large. Neverhad they dreamed of seeing so many white people. No one spoke theirtongue; still there were trappers and Missouri River boatmen whounderstood signs, and by the sign language they inquired for the RedHead Chief.

The kind-hearted Governor William Clark was glad to greet them. Theirfathers, almost thirty years before, had helped him and Captain Lewisthe Long Knife; he remembered the two old men when they were young.The Indians of the West might always depend upon their friend the RedHead.

So he took charge of the four Pierced Noses, and entertained them. Heshowed them the sights of the white man's big village beside the bigrivers. They were entertained by banquets and balls and the theatre.They went to services in the Roman Catholic church, where the whitepeople worshipped—for Governor Clark was a Catholic.

And they saw copies of the Book of Heaven—the Roman Catholictestament, and the Bible: but the books did not speak their language!

In all the white man's village there was no one who might read from theBook, in their own language.

After a few months they began to despair. The food of the white manand the close air of the lodges made them ill. The two old men died.Rabbit-skin Leggins and No-horns-on-his-head were homesick for theircountry beyond the mountains. In the winter they prepared to go.

A farewell banquet was given to them, but they were tired of banquets.They wanted a Book of Heaven that could talk to them.No-horns-on-his-head delivered a speech, as best he might, in signlanguage and broken English, through an interpreter.

I have come to you over the trail of many moons from the setting sun.You were the friends of my fathers, who have all gone the long way.

I came with an eye partly open for my people, who sit in darkness; I goback with both eyes closed. How can I go back blind, to my blindpeople? I made my way to you with strong arms through many enemies andstrange lands that I might carry back much to them. I go back withboth arms broken and empty.

Two fathers came with us; they were the braves of many winters andwars. We leave them asleep here by your great waters and wigwams.They were tired in many moons and their moccasins wore out.

My people sent me to get the "White Man's Book of Heaven." You took meto where you allow your women to dance as we do not ours, and the bookwas not there. You took me to where they worship the Great Spirit withcandles, and the book was not there. You showed me images of the goodspirits and the picture of the good land beyond, but the book was notamong them to tell us the way.

I am going back the long and sad trail to my people in the dark land.You make my feet heavy with gifts and my moccasins will grow oldcarrying them, yet the book is not among them. When I tell my poorblind people, after one more snow, in the big council, that I did notbring the book, no word will be spoken by our old men or by our youngbraves. One by one they will rise and go out in silence.

My people will die in darkness, and they will go a long path to otherhunting grounds. No white man will go with them, and no White Man'sBook make the way plain. I have no more words.

They left. Rabbit-skin Leggins reached his people;No-horns-on-his-head fell upon the trail and died.

But his words lived. As translated into English, they were printed inEastern papers, and aroused great desire among the churches to givethem the right answer. Should these Indians beyond the mountainsremain in darkness? No!

Missionaries were called for, to carry the Book and the Word to theColumbia River. In the spring of 1834 the first party, of fourMethodists, set out; others followed, the next year; soon the RomanCatholic church sent its Black Robes; and the Pierced Noses and theirkin the Flatheads were made glad.

Not in vain had their warriors died, while seeking the road to thewhite man's heaven.

CHAPTER XIX

A TRAVELER TO WASHINGTON (1831-1835)

WIJUNJON, THE "BIG LIAR" OF THE ASSINIBOINS

The Assiniboins are of the great Sioux family. Today there are in theUnited States about one thousand of them. But when they were a freeand powerful people they numbered as high as ten thousand, and rangedfar—from the Missouri River in northern North Dakota and northernMontana clear into Canada, above.

This cold, high country of vast plains made them hardy and roaming. Intheir proud bearing and good size they resembled the Dakota Sioux, butwith the Sioux they had little to do, except in war. They were at warwith the Mandans also, and other nations to the south. In the norththey mingled with the Ojibwas or Chippewa people who had journeyedwestward into Canada. The Ojibwas had given them their name,As-si-i-bo-in, meaning "They-cook-with-stones."

The Assiniboins were horse Indians and buffalo hunters. They had twopeculiar customs. They did cook their meat with stones, just as theChippewas said. Instead of using kettles, they used holes. They dug ahole about the size of a large kettle; then they pressed a square ofraw buffalo-hide into it, for a lining. This they filled with water;they put their meat in, and heating stones, dropped them in, too, untilthe water was boiling.

Their other peculiarity lay in their style of hair. The longer thehair, the better. They divided it into strands, and plastered thestrands with a paste of red earth and hoof glue, in sections of an inchor two.

When the hair did not grow long enough to suit, they spliced it bygluing on other hair, sometimes horse-hair, until it reached the ground.

In the year 1831 Wi-jun-jon, or Pigeon's-egg Head, was a leading youngwarrior among the long-haired Assiniboins. It was a custom of thosedays to have chiefs and warriors from the various Indian tribes sent toWashington, to talk with their White Father and see how the Americanslived.

This was supposed to teach the Indians the value of white man's ways,and to show them how useless was war with the white race.

The Assiniboins were still a wild people. They were located so farfrom St. Louis that they knew nothing about white man ways, except suchas they noticed at the fur-trading posts—and here the ways were mixedwith Indian ways.

So in the fall of this year Major J. F. A. Sanborn, the Indian agent atthe American Fur Company's trading-post of Fort Union, where on theborder between North Dakota and Montana the Yellowstone River emptiesinto the Missouri River, decided to take a party of Indians toWashington.

The Assiniboins, the Cheyennes, the Blackfeet, the Crows—they all cameto Fort Union, to trade their furs for powder, lead, sugar and blankets.

Major Sanborn asked the Assiniboins for a warrior. They appointedWijunjon and another.

Now, this was to be a long journey, among strangers. To be sure, fromthe Mandans, down-river, old Sha-ha-ka, or White Head, had made thetrip, in 1806, when the Red Head Chief and the Long Knife Chief werebound home from the salty water; and he had returned unharmed. Othershad gone since, from the upper Missouri, and others had died; Sha-ha-kahimself had almost been killed by the Sioux.

Nobody had gone yet, from as far away as the Assiniboin country;therefore young Wijunjon feared, but was brave. He bade his wife,Chin-cha-pee, or Fire-bug-that-creeps, and his little children goodby,and with the other Assiniboin and chiefs from the Blackfeet and Crows,set out on a fur company flatboat under protection of Major Sanborn.The Assiniboin women on the shore wept and wailed. His people scarcelyexpected to see him again.

It was one thousand miles by river through the enemies of his nation,thence on to the great village of St. Louis; but he passed in safety.And when he began to see the first smaller villages of the Americans inMissouri, Wijunjon started in to count the houses, so that he mighttell his people.

He had promised to report everything.

He commenced to count by making notches in his pipe stem—one notch forevery lodge. The cabins became thicker, along the river banks, and hiscomrade needs must call off the lodges while he made the notches. Soonthere was no more space on the pipe stem, and Wijunjon changed to hiswar club. Speedily he had filled this also.

Luckily, the barge tied up at the shore, while dinner was cooked. Thisgave him chance to cut a long willow stick, which surely would beenough.

In fact, so certain he was that the end of the white man's lodges mustbe close before them, that he worked hard to recut the pipe stemnotches and the war club notches, in his willow stick, to have alltogether. But this very day he had filled the willow stick, and thelodges before them seemed more numerous than those behind!

Ere they arrived in sight of St. Louis itself, he and his comrade hadan arm-load of willow sticks—all filled with notches. And here wasSt. Louis! How many people? Fifteen thousand! How many lodges?Thousands of lodges!

Pigeon's-egg Head pitched the bundle of willow sticks over-board. Hisknife was worn out, and his hand and brain were tired.

At St. Louis he stood for his portrait, painted by the same ArtistCatlin who the next year, in the Mandan towns, listened to the herotales of Mah-to-toh-pa. He was a great man at painting Indians, thisArtist Catlin.

Wijunjon was somewhat confused by so many sounds and sights, but hemade a fine figure of a chief—in his mountain-goat skin leggins andshirt, decorated with porcupine quills, and with scalp locks from hisenemies; his long plaited hair, which reached to the ground; his warbonnet of eagles' plumes; his buffalo-hide robe, painted with thebattles of his career; his beautiful moccasins; and his quiver and bowand bull-neck shield.

Having had his portrait painted, he continued on the long trail, of twothousand more miles by water and by stage, to Washington. And as everymile of it was amidst still more lodges of the white man, he soon sawthat all the willow sticks of the Missouri River could not have countedtheir numbers.

This winter Wijunjon and his companions had a wonderful time among thewhite men. The Pigeon's-egg Head was the foremost. He was the firstto shake the hand of the Great White Father. He declined nothing. Thesights of Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York—he inspectedthem all. He scarcely rested, night or day. He learned so much thatwhen, in the spring of 1832, he turned homeward, he was filled tobursting.

At St. Louis the first "through" steamboat, the Yellowstone, waswaiting to ascend to Fort Union and the Assiniboin country. ArtistCatlin was aboard. This was to be his first trip, also.

The steamboat Yellowstone made a huge sensation, as it ploughed thethick muddy current of the Missouri, frightening the Indians andbuffalo along the shores.

It moved without sweeps—it nosed for the deepest channels—and theIndians called it "Big-medicine-canoe-with-eyes." It spoke with itsguns, and belched much smoke—and they called it "Big Thunder-canoe."

But Wijunjon feared not at all. He was used to thunder-canoes, now;and he had seen many great sights, back there in the villages of thewhite men. In fact, he was a sight, himself, for on the way up he hadchanged his clothes, that his people might know hint for a widetraveler.

Gone were his fringed and quilled goat-skin leggins and shirt; gone hiswar bonnet and painted robe and handsome moccasins, his bow and quiverand shield.

Instead, he wore a badly fitting colonel's uniform, of the UnitedStates Army, given to him by the Great White Father: wrinkled trousersand coat of bright blue, with gilt epaulets upon the shoulders, and astiff collar that reached above his ears. Atop his long painted hairthere was settled, to the coat collar, a stove-pipe hat, with asilver-braid band and a red wool plume two feet high. His feet weresqueezed into high-heeled military boots, of shiny leather. Around hisneck was a tight black stock, or collar. Around his waist was a redsash. Upon his hands were loose white cotton gloves. Upon his chest,and the ruffles of a white shirt, dangled a silver medal, on a blueribbon. Hung by a belt across one shoulder, at his log dangled a hugebroad-sword. In one hand he carried a blue umbrella, in the other afan, and in his arms a keg of rum.

Thus Wijunjon, the big brave, proudly strode the deck of the steamerYellowstone, and impatiently looked forward to the moment when hemight step off, among his people.

The moment came. Two thousand Indians had gathered on the prairie atFort Union, to greet the thunder-canoe and the returning travelers.Wijunjon led the procession down the gang-plank.

It was not Indian etiquet to make an ado over the return. Wijunjon wasroundly eyed, but nobody spoke to him. His wife, theFire-bug-that-creeps, was here; so were his children, who scarcely knewhim; so were his old parents. He felt that he was admired and that hisfamily and friends were glad to see him; but they let him alone and heonly stalked about in his glory, whistling the American war-cry of"Yankee Doodle."

After due time, of course they all loosened up. This night in hislodge in the Assiniboin village he commenced to tell his stories. Buthe could not tell one tenth—and yet, with the very first, several ofthe old men and chiefs arose and went out.

They said that this Wijunjon was a liar, and that they would not listento him. The white people were known to be great liars, and he hadlearned from them!

In vain, the next day, and the next day, the Pigeon's-egg Head tried tomake himself popular.

First, he let his wife cut off the tails of his frock coat, to fashionherself a pair of nice blue leggins. His silver-lace hat-band she tookfor garters. The rest of his coat he gave to his brother; and now hewore his white shirt with the tails outside.

He gave away his boots—which hurt his feet. He gave away the tails ofhis shirt, also his brass studs and sleeve-buttons. And with his kegof rum, and his broad-sword dragging and tripping him, he paid visitsfrom lodge to lodge, and whistled "Yankee Doodle."

Pretty soon he had nothing left but his blue umbrella. That was theonly thing he kept. Even his hat was gone; his sword was used by hiswife, as a meat chopper. And still he was not popular.

Each night men and women gathered from near and far, to hear him talk,in his lodge. They sat silent and critical, while he told them thehonest truth.

He worked very hard. He labored to describe the long journey, and themarvelous number of white man's lodges, and villages, and the stagecoaches, and the railroads; the forts, and the ships-of-many-big-guns,and the tremendous "council-house" at Washington; and the patent office(great-medicine-place, filled with curious machines); and the warparade of American soldiers, and the balloon—a huge ball which carrieda man to the Great Spirit in the sky; and the beautiful white squawswith red cheeks.

The people listened; and when they went out they said among themselves:"Those things are not true. The Pigeon's-egg Head is the greatest liarin the world. The other nations will laugh at the Assiniboins."

Wijunjon did not despair. He was so full of words that he simply musttalk, or burst. He wished that he might bring forward the otherAssiniboin who had been with him and who knew that all these storieswere true; but the other Assiniboin had died on the way home. That wastoo bad.

However, he stuck to his stories, for he knew that he was right. Hispeople had sent him to see, and he had seen, and he spoke only truewords.

After a while, the Assiniboins took a different view of Wijunjon. Anyperson who had such stories in his brain was certainly great medicine.No common liar could invent these stories about impossible wonders.

Yes, Wijunjon was doubtless taught by a spirit. He had dreamed.

Now the Assiniboin people looked upon Wijunjon with awe and fear. Aperson equipped with such power might be very dangerous. They decidedthat he ought to be killed.

Meanwhile Wijunjon went right on telling his stories. He still hadhopes—and besides, it was pleasant to be the center of a gapingcircle, and to walk around with folks gazing so at him.

There was a young man who agreed to rid the Assiniboins of this wizard.Beyond question, Wijunjon was too great medicine to be killed by anordinary bullet; another way should be found.

This young man, also, was a dreamer. And in his dreams he was told, hesaid, how to kill Wijunjon. The wizard must be shot with an iron pothandle! Nothing else would do the work.

Accordingly, the young man appointed to kill Wijunjon for being badmedicine, found an iron pot handle, and spent a whole day filing itdown to fit into the muzzle of his gun. Then from behind he shot theterrible Pigeon's-egg Head and scattered his lying brains about, andthe wizard fell dead.

CHAPTER XX

THE BLACKFEET DEFY THE CROWS (1834)

"COME AND TAKE US"

Southwest from the Mandans there lived the Crow nation. They rovedthrough the Yellowstone River country of southern Montana to the RockyMountains; and southward through the mountains into the Wind River andBig Horn country of western Wyoming.

West from the Mandans there lived the Blackfeet nation. They rovedthrough the Missouri country of northern Montana, and north into Canada.

The land of the Crows and of the Blackfeet overlapped. The two peopleswere at war, on the plains and in the mountains.

By reason of their wars, the Crow nation had shrunk until they weredown to seven thousand people, with many more women than men. Buttheir warriors were tall and stately, their women industrious, theirgarb elegant. Their buffalo-hide lodges and their buffalo-robeclothing were the whitest, finest in the West. They had countlesshorses. And the long hair of their men set them high in dignity.

Oiled every morning with bear's grease, the hair of a proud Crowwarrior swept the ground behind him. The hair of Chief Long-hairmeasured ten feet, seven inches, and rolled into a bunch it weighedseveral pounds. When it had turned white, he worshipped it as hismedicine.

The Crows' name for themselves was Ab-sa-ro-ke—Sparrow Hawk People.They were of the Siouan family and cousins of the Minnetarees, theBird-woman's captors. They had no villages, except where they camped.They were dark, as high and mighty in their bearing as the Mohawks orSenecas, were wonderful riders and looked upon the white men not asworthy enemies but as persons who should be plundered of horses andgoods.

In the white men's camps they were polite—and took away with themwhatever they could. However, many white traders spoke well of theCrows.

The name of the Blackfeet was Sik-sik-a, which means the same. Itreferred to their black moccasins. They were Algonquins, and in powerranked with the Iroquois of the East. The Blackfeet, the Bloods andthe Piegans formed the league of the Siksika nation. They warred rightand left, with the Crees, the Assiniboins, the Sioux, the Crows, thePierced Noses, and with practically all tribes; they were hostile tothe white Americans who hunted in their country; but their wars had notcut them down, for they numbered close to forty thousand people.

Like the Crows their enemy-neighbors they were rovers, never stayinglong in one spot. They were unlike the Crows in appearance, beingshorter, broad-shouldered and deep-chested. No warriors were morefeared.

In November of 1834, amidst the Wind River Mountains of western Wyomingfive hundred Crows were ahorse, at early morning, to chase the buffalo.And a gallant sight they made as they rode gaily out; in their whiterobes, their long plaited hair flying, their best horses prancing underthem and decorated with red streamers.

Chief Grizzly Bear led. Chief Long-hair, now almost eighty years ofa*ge, was with another band.

In this Chief Grizzly Bear band there rode a party of whitebeaver-hunters who were to spend the winter with the Crows. They nowwere to be shown how the Crows killed buffalo.

Pretty soon, while the Crows cantered on, they sighted a group ofmoving figures at the base of the hills two or three miles distantacross the valley. Everybody stopped short to peer. Buffalo? No!Indians, on foot and in a hurry—Blackfeet!

How, from so far away, the Crows could tell that these were Blackfeet,the white men did not know. But with a yell of joy and rage, everyCrow lashed his horse and forward they all dashed, racing to catch thehated Blackfeet.

The white hunters followed hard. It was to be an Indian battle,instead of an Indian buffalo-chase.

The Blackfeet numbered less than one hundred. They were a war party.Were they hunting buffalo, they would have been on horseback; but evenamong the horse Indians the war parties were likely to travel on foot,so as to be able to hide more easily. They counted upon stealinghorses, for the homeward trail.

These Blackfeet had been very rash, but that was Blackfoot nature.They had sighted the Crows as soon as the Crows had sighted them, andwere hustling at best speed to get back into the hills.

The Crows, whooping gladly and expecting to make short work of theirenemies, first made short work of the distance. Their robes weredropped, their guns loaded, their bows were strung, they spread outwider—the Blackfeet were cut off and desperately scrambling up a rockyslope—could never make it—never, never—they had halted—what werethey doing?

Aha! From the hill slope there arose answering whoops; a few gunscracked; and at the base and half-way up, the Crows stopped and gazedand yelled.

The plucky Blackfeet had "forted." They were in a natural fort of rockwall. On either side of them a rock out-crop in a ridge four feet highextended up hill, to meet, near the top, a cross-ridge ten feet high.

While half the warriors defended with guns and bows, the other halfwere busily piling up brush and boulders, to close the down-hillopening.

Now whoop answered whoop and threat answered threat, while the Crowsrode around and around, at safe distance, seeking a weak place. ChiefGrizzly Bear held council with the sub-chiefs. Away sped an express,to get reinforcements from the camp.

At the first charge upon the fort, three Crows had been killed, andonly one Blackfoot. That would never do: three scalps in trade for onewas a poor count, to the Crows.

They were five hundred, the Blackfeet were only ninety; but the Crowsheld off, waiting their reinforcements, while from their fort theBlackfeet yelled taunt after taunt.

"Bring up your squaws'! Let them lead you. But our scalps will neverdry in a Crow lodge!"

Here, at last, came the people from the camp: the old men, women,boys—everybody who could mount a horse and who could find a weapon;all shrieking madly until the whole valley rang with savage cries.

Matters looked bad for the Blackfeet. At least two thousand Crows weresurrounding them, hooting at them, shaking guns and bows and spears atthem. And the Blackfeet, secure in their fort, jeered back. They werebrave warriors.

Chief Grizzly Bear called another council. In spite of all thegesturing and whooping and firing of guns, the Blackfeet were unharmed.The Crows had little heart for charging in, upon the muzzles of thosedeadly pieces with the fierce Blackfeet behind.

The white beaver-hunters, not wishing to anger the Blackfeet, andcurious to see what was about to happen, withdrew to a clump of cedartrees, about two hundred yards from the fort. The white men haddecided to be spectators, in a grand-stand.

Presently Chief Grizzly Bear and his chiefs seemed to have agreed upona plan of battle. Had they been white men, themselves, they would havestormed the fort at once, and carried the fight to close quarters; butthat was not Indian way.

To lose a warrior was a serious matter. Warriors were not made in aday. And without warriors, a tribe would soon perish. "He who fightsand runs away, may live to fight another day," was the Indians' motto.They preferred to play safe.

Now the Crows formed in line, two or three hundred abreast, and chargedas if they were intending to run right over the fort. It was a greatsight. But it did not frighten the Blackfeet.

Up the hill slope galloped the Crow warriors and boys, shooting andyelling. The stout Blackfeet, crouched behind their barricade,volleyed back; and long before the Crows drove their charge home, itbroke.

Soon several more Crow warriors were lying on the field. The wails ofthe squaws sounded loudly. No Blackfeet had been hurt.

The Crows changed their tactics. They avoided the fort, until they hadgained the top of the hill. Then in a long single file, they tore pastthat end of the fort, letting fly with bullet and arrow as they sped by.

Each warrior threw himself to the opposite side of his horse, andhanging there with only one arm and one leg exposed to the fort, shotunder his horse's neck.

It was an endless chain of riders, shuttling past the fort, andshooting—but that did not work.

The Blackfeet arrows and bullets caught the horses, and once in a whilea rider; and soon there were ten Crows down.

The Crows quit, to rest their horses, and to talk. Their women werewailing still more loudly. War was hard on the women, too. For everyrelative killed, they had to cut off a finger joint, besides gashingtheir faces and hands with knives.

In their little fort, the Blackfeet were as boldly defiant as ever.

"Come and take us!" they gibed. "Where are the Crow men? We thoughtwe saw Crow men among you. Come and take us, but you will never takeus alive!"

"What will be done now?" the white men queried of a black man who hadjoined them, in the clump of cedars.

He was not all black. He was half white, one quarter negro and onequarter Cherokee. He had lived over twenty years in the Indian countryof the upper Missouri River; mainly with the Crows. Edward Rose hadbeen his name, when young; but now he was a wrinkled, stout old man,called Cut-nose, and looked like a crinkly-headed Indian.

"The Crows are losing too many warriors. They have no stomach for thatkind of work," answered the old squaw-man.

The Crow chiefs and braves were seated in a circle, near the cedars,and listening to the speakers who stood up, one after another.

"Our marrow-bones are broken," some asserted. "The enemy is in a fort;we are outside. We will lose more men than he. Let us draw off; andwhen he is in the open, we can then attack as we please."

"He is few; we are many. Our slain warriors and their women cry forvengeance," asserted others. "We will be called cowards if we retreat.If we charge all together we may lose a few braves, but there will beno Blackfeet left to laugh at us."

These seemed to be the voices that carried. The pipe was passed aroundthe circle, every man puffed at it, and the council broke up in atremendous yelling.

Now the end of the Blackfeet loomed large. Ahorse and afoot the Crowsmassed, to charge from below and on either flank. Their chiefshastened hither and thither, urging them. The women and childrenshrieked encouragement.

In their little fort the Blackfeet also listened to their chiefs. Theyshowed not the slightest sign of fear. Their fierce faces glared overthe ramparts. Their weapons were held firmly.

The Crows had aroused themselves to such a pitch that they acted halfinsane. Forward they charged in howling masses—but the bullets andarrows pelted them thickly, more warriors fell—they scattered and ranaway. The Blackfeet hooted them.

This made old Cut-nose mad. He hastened out to where the Crows werecollected in doubt what next to do, and climbed upon a rock, that theyall might see him.

"Listen!" he shouted. "You act as if you expected to kill the enemywith your noise. Your voices are big and your hearts are small. Thesewhite men see that the Crows cannot protect their hunting grounds; theywill not trade with a nation of cowards and women; they will trade withthe Blackfeet, who own the country. The Blackfeet will go home andtell the people that three thousand Crows could not take ninetywarriors. After this no nation will have anything to do with theCrows. I am ashamed to be found among the Crows. I told the white menthat you could fight. Now I will show you how black men and white mencan fight."

And he leaped from his rock, and without glancing behind him he ran forthe fort. The Crows did not delay an instant. Pellmell they rushedafter him, caught up with him, swarmed against the brush and rockwalls—the Blackfeet met them stanchly, and gave way not an inch—andthe fighting was terrible.

But over the barricade poured the Crows. In a moment the wholeinterior was a dense mass of Indians, engaged hand to hand, and everyone yelling until, as said the white men, "The noise fairly lifted thecaps from our heads."

Guns and hatchets and clubs and knives rose and fell. The Crow womenwere pressing to the outskirts, to kill the wounded enemy. Graduallythe weight of the Crows forced the Blackfeet back. The Blackfeet beganto emerge over the upper end of the fort—their faces still to the foe.

Presently all who might escape, were outside—but their enemiessurrounded them at once. The Blackfeet remaining were not many. Theynever faltered nor signed surrender. They only sang their deathchants; and forming in close order they moved along the ridge like oneman, cutting a way with their knives.

By the half dozen they dropped; even those who dropped, fought untilthey were dead. Soon the platoon was merely a squad; the squad meltedto a spot; there was a swirl, covering the spot; and the spot had beenwashed out.

Not a Blackfoot was left, able to stand. The wounded who had losttheir weapons hurled taunts, as they lay helpless, until the Crowsfinished them also. Truly had the Blackfeet yelled: "Come and take us!But you will never take us alive!"

This night there was much mourning in the Crow camp. Thirty chiefs andbraves had been killed, twice that number wounded, and many horsesdisabled. No prisoner had been brought in, to pay by torture. TheBlackfeet nation would look upon the fight as their victory.

So the Crow dead were buried; and into each grave of chief or bravewere placed his weapons and the shaved off mane and tail of his besthorse—for every hair would become a horse for him, in the spirit world.

CHAPTER XXI

THE STRONG MEDICINE OF KONATE (1839)

THE STORY OF THE KIOWA MAGIC STAFF

The Kiowas are of the great Athapascan family of Indians. In their wardays they ranged from the Platte River of western Nebraska down intoNew Mexico and Texas. But their favorite hunting grounds lay south ofthe Arkansas River of western Kansas and southeastern Colorado.

It was a desert country, of whity-yellow sand and sharp bare hills,with the Rocky Mountains distant in the west, and the only green thatof the trees and brush along the water-courses. Nevertheless it was avery good kind of country.

It had plenty of buffalo. The timber and the streams supplied wintershelter. The wagon-road of the white merchants, between the MissouriRiver and Santa Fe of New Mexico, ran through the middle of it andfurnished much plunder. In the south, where lay Comanche land andApache land, there were Mexican settlements that furnished horses.

With the Comanches and Apaches, and with the Cheyennes and Arapahosnorth, the Kiowas were friends. To the Pawnees they were enemies, andtheir name carried dread through many years of fighting.

Now in the summer of 1839, twenty Kiowa warriors left their villagenear the Arkansas River in present southern Kansas, to go down acrossComanche country and get horses and mules from the Pasunke, or theMexicans of El Paso, which is on the Rio Grande River border betweennorthwestern Texas and Mexico. However, in those days all that regionwas Mexico.

The head chief of the party was old Do-has-an, or Bluff. But he didnot command. Gua-da-lon-te, or Painted-red, was the war chief.Dohasan would take command only in case Gua-da-lon-te was killed.Among the warriors there were Dagoi, and Kon-a-te, whose name means"Black-tripe."

After several days' travel horseback clear across New Mexico they cameto El Paso town, where many goods were stored on the way between NewMexico and Old Mexico, and where the people got rich by trading and bymaking wine from grapes. But they could see soldiers guarding El Paso;so they did not dare to charge in and gather horses and mules from thefrightened Pasunke.

Dohasan, who was wise as well as brave, advised against it.

"Another time," he said. "We are too few, and we are a long way fromhome. Let us go, and come again. Maybe on the way tip we will meetwith luck among the other villages."

They rested only the one night, and turned back, thinking that they hadnot been discovered. At the end of a day's journey through a bad,waterless land, they halted and camped by a spring, of which they knew.

It was a big rock-sink or round, deep basin, with, a pool of water atthe bottom, and a cave that extended under a shelf.

[Illustration: Young Kiowa girl (missing from book)]

The Mexican soldiers must have struck their trail, or perhaps hadfollowed them from El Paso; for early in the morning there was a suddenshooting from all around, and much yelling. Bullets whined andspatted, and horses screamed and fell over.

"Into the cave!" shouted Painted-red. "Quick!"

Hustled by old Bluff and Painted-red, into the cave they bolted.Nobody had been hurt, and the soldiers were afraid to venture in afterthem, but right speedily they found themselves badly off.

The soldiers camped along the edge of the well, above, so as to killthem by thirst and hunger. Only in the darkness might the Kiowas, twoor three at a time, crawl out of the cave, gulp a few swallows from thepool, maybe slash a strip of horse-meat, and scuttle in again.

While doing this, Dagoi was shot in the leg, so that he could not walk.In a couple of days the dead horses began to decay, for the sun wasvery hot. The smell grew sickening. The flesh was sickening. One ortwo of the dead horses lay in the pool, and the water got sickening.The Mexican soldiers stayed close and watchful, and yelled insults inSpanish.

But they had with them several Apache scouts; and one of the Apachescalled in Comanche, so that the soldiers would not understand.

"Be of good cheer, brothers," he called. "Be strong and hold out,until these dogs of Mexicans tire."

The Kiowas had no thought of surrendering. They would rather die wherethey were, because if they surrendered, they would be killed anyway.Old Dohasan and others among them belonged to the society ofKa-itse-nko or Real Dogs—whose members were under a vow never tosurrender.

Part of them guarded the cave's mouth, and the rest explored backinside. At the very end there was a hole which let in daylight.Konate was boosted up; but when he stuck his head through, a soldiersaw it and he had to duck down. Thereupon the soldiers stopped thehole with a large rock.

When ten days and nine nights had passed, they all decided that theywould either escape or be killed. The horse meat could not be touched;neither could the water. It was better to die in the open, like men,than to die in a hole, like gophers.

The soldiers guarded the only trail that led up the side of the cliffwall, out of the well; but at another side there was a cedar which hadrooted in a crack and almost reached the rim. By hard climbing a manmight manage to scramble up and gain the open.

But what to do with Dagoi, who had only one leg and was weak from pain?

"You will not leave me, my brothers?" implored Dagoi. "It is true I amwounded, but if you leave me, I shall surely die. Perhaps you cancarry me on your backs. Or wait a day or two, and the soldiers willgrow tired."

"No," said old Dohasan. "That is impossible. We must move fast, andto get you up the tree would make noise. If we wait, or if we stay, wewill all die, and it is better that one should die than that all shoulddie. Have a strong heart, my son. You are a warrior, and you must dielike a warrior."

Dagoi bowed his head.

"Those are good words," he answered. "I hear them and they make mestrong. I am a man, and I am not afraid. When you get home, tell myfriends to come and avenge me."

In the darkness Dagoi dragged himself to the pool, and sat beside it,waiting for daylight and the bullets of the soldiers.

Old Dohasan sang the death-chant of the Real Dogs. Then he steppedsilently out, leading the file of warriors to the wall under the tree,that he might be the first to climb and meet the soldiers in case theywere on watch.

Up he went, into the cedar, and on; up went all, one after another, asfast as they could. The camp-fires of the Mexican soldiers wereglowing, right and left and behind and before, along the rim; butwithout a sound the nineteen gaunt Kiowas, bending low, stole swiftlyforward, at the heels of Dohasan.

They succeeded. But in finding horses, somebody made a little noise,and the Mexicans fired wildly into the darkness. However, answeringnot, and leading the horses out a short way, step by step, they wereready to vault on.

"Anybody hurt?"

"A bullet has gone through my body," said Konate. "But I will try toride."

"We must hurry," spoke Painted-red. The camp was all aroused."Someone help Konate."

Away they dashed, several riding double, and Konate supported in hisseat by a comrade. Behind, in the well, Dagoi sat beside the pool andkept his heart strong for the end that would come by daylight.

All that night and all the next day they rode, making northeast towardthe desolate desert region of the Staked Plain, on the homeward wayacross western Texas. No Mexican soldiers would follow into the StakedPlain.

When after hard riding they arrived at Sun-mountain Spring, on the topof a high, bare-rock hill near the Staked Plain, Konate's wound hadspoiled in him and he could not sit upright on his horse. He was veryill.

"I am about to die, friends," he gasped. "Do not try to carry mefarther. But go, yourselves; and some day come back for my bones."

He spoke sense. Any one might see that he had only a few hours tolive, and that soon his comrades would be carrying only a body acrossthe Staked Plain, where the sun beat hotly and water was far apart.

It was better that they leave him here, at the spring where they mightfind his bones. So on the water's edge they built a shade for Konate,with a few crooked cedar branches, and bidding him goodby they rode on,into the great Staked Plain.

They expected that they would never seen him again.

What happened now to Konate, he often told, and he told it always thesame; therefore it must be true. For the rest of the long day he laythere, with the sun beating down around him, and his mind and body verysick from his wound. He was unable to sleep. The sun set, and the airchanged to cool, the twilight deepened to dusk; alone on his hilltop heclosed his eyes, and waited for the spirit of the tai-me, or Sun-dancemedicine, to bear him to his fathers.

In the star-light he heard a wolf howl, far off. He listened, and thehowl sounded again, nearer, from another direction. Then he knew thatthe wolf had scented him and was ranging to find his spot. That wouldbe bad—to be eaten by a wolf and have one's bones scattered!

Konate groaned. His heart had been strong, until this moment. He hadhoped that his bones would be cared for.

Soon he heard the wolf, at hand; there was the soft patter of its pads,and the sniffing of its inquiring nose, seeking him out. And now hesaw the wolf, with shining eyes peering into the bough shelter where helay helpless, unable even to speak.

That was an agonizing moment, for Konate. But lo, instead of jumpingupon him, the wolf trotted forward, and gently licked his wounds, andthen lay quietly down beside him.

Konate was amazed and thankful. While the wolf lay there, next heheard another sound, in the distance: the shrill eagle-bone-whistlemusic of the great Sun-dance of the Kiowa nation. The music drewnearer, and he heard the Sun-dance song; and while he listened, strongof heart again, he saw the medicine spirit of the Sun-dance standingbefore him, at the entrance to the shelter.

"I pity you and shall not let you die," said the medicine spirit. "Youshall see your home and friends."

Then the medicine spirit brought down a rain, to wash Konate's woundsand cool his fever. The medicine spirit sat with Konate most of thenight, and told him many things: told him how to make a new kind ofSun-dance shield, and also an a-po-te, or sacred forked staff, thatshould be a medicine staff and have magic powers.

Toward morning the medicine spirit left, saying:

"Help is near."

Every bit of this Konate firmly insisted was true, although white menclaimed that he dreamed. For, listen:

Meanwhile the Painted-red party were riding on, and in the Staked Plainthey met six Comanches, bound to Mexico after plunder. They spoke tothe Comanches regarding Konate, and asked them to cover his body sothat the wolves should not get it.

This the Comanches promised to do, and continued to the Sun-mountainSpring where Konate had been left to die.

But when they reached the spring, they found Konate alive and strongerthan when his comrades had bid him goodby! That astonished them. Theythen knew that he was "medicine." Therefore they washed him, and gavehim food, and putting him on an extra horse they turned back and tookhim home.

The village, and all the tribe, also, were astonished to see him again.As proof that he had been visited by the medicine spirit, he made themedicine shield, of a new design, and the apote, or sacred forkedstick. He took the name Pa-ta-dal, or Lean Bull. After that thekeepers of the medicine stick bore the same name.

Konate carried the medicine stick in the Sun-dance, for several years,and then handed it on to his nephew K'a-ya-nti, or Falls-over-a-bank,who became Lean Bull the second—but the white people called him PoorBuffalo.

This apote was a two-pronged stick about four feet long, decorated withwild sage. It was smooth and had no bark, and was brought out onlyonce a year, for the Sun-dance. The keeper of it used it for beatingtime, in the dance. At the close of the dance it was stuck, forks up,in the ground in the center of the medicine lodge, and left until thenext year.

When the stick was eighteen years old Konate's nephew planted it asbefore, at the close of the Sun-dance, in the center of the medicinelodge on the plain; and when the Kiowas returned, the next summer, foranother Sun-dance, they discovered that the apote had been planted theother end up, and was putting forth green leaves!

For a stick eighteen years old, without bark, to do this, was certainlygreat medicine. No one now might doubt the story of Konate, to whomthe taime spirit had talked, under the bough shelter by theSun-mountain Spring.

None of the Kiowas dared to touch the apote, this time—or to stay nearthe medicine lodge. The dance was held at another place.

When, ten years later, or in October, 1867, the Kiowas met in a treatycouncil with the United States, near the present town of Medicine Lodgeon Medicine Lodge Creek, southern Kansas, they were enabled to showthat the apote had grown to be a large tree.

Such had been the strong medicine of Konate, to whom, about to die fromhis wounds, in his shelter by the Sun-mountain Spring beyond the StakedPlain, the taime spirit had talked.

Konate was dead; but K'a-ya-nti, his nephew, the other keeper of thestick, was still alive; and he knew.

CHAPTER XXII

RED CLOUD STANDS IN THE WAY (1865-1909)

THE SIOUX WHO CLOSED THE ROAD OF THE WHITES

The name Sioux comes down from a longer Chippewa word meaning "adder"or "enemy." The Indians who bore this name were the powerfulDakotas—the true Sioux of history.

The wide Nation of the Lakota, as these Sioux called themselves, was aleague of seven council fires.

The four divisions of the Santees lived in Minnesota; the two divisionsof the Yanktons lived between them and the Missouri River; the onelarge division of the Tetons lived in their Dakota country, west of theMissouri River.

The Santees, the Yanktons and the Tetons spoke their own dialects.They differed in appearance from one another. They were separated intotribes and bands.

Even as late as 1904 they numbered twenty-five thousand people in theUnited States. By mind, muscle and morals they have been rated asleaders of the Western red men. They roamed hither-thither, anddepended upon the buffalo for food. They waged stout war.

The Tetons were the strongest, and formed half of, the Dakota nation.It was chiefly they who fought the United States soldiers for so long.The war opened in 1855, over the killing of a crippled cow by aMin-i-con-jou, at Fort Laramie of Wyoming, on the Oregon Trail of theemigrants.

The Brulés, or Burnt Thighs; the Og-la-las, or Scatter-one's-own; theHunk-pa-pas, or Those-who-camp-by-themselves; the Min-i-con-jous, orThose-who-plant-beside-the-stream; the Si-ha-sa-pas, orBlack-moccasins: these were the Teton Sioux who battled the hardest tosave their buffalo and their lands from the white man.

Red Cloud at first was chief of the Bad Faces band of Oglala Sioux.They were a small fighting band, but he was a noted brave. His countshowed more coups, or strike-the-enemy feats, than the count of anyother warrior of the Oglalas. Before he retired from war, his coupsnumbered eighty.

He was born in 1822. His Sioux name was Makh-pia-sha, meaning RedCloud. In the beginning it probably referred to a cloud at sunrise orsunset; later it referred to his army of warriors whose red blanketscovered the hills.

When he was forty years old, there was much excitement among the whitemen to the west of the Sioux range. From the mines of Idaho thegold-seekers had crossed to the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains inwestern Montana. Mining camps such as Helena, Bozeman and VirginiaCity sprang up.

The Oregon Trail of the emigrants already passed through the Siouxcountry, and the Sioux had agreed to let it alone. Now the UnitedStates asked permission to make a new road, which from Fort Laramie ofsouthern Wyoming would leave the Oregon Trail, and branch offnorthwest, through the Powder River and the Big Horn country ofWyoming, and on west across Montana, as a short-cut to the gold-fields.

This part of Wyoming really was Crow Indian country; but the Sioux haddriven the Crows out, and with the Northern Cheyennes were using theregion for a hunting ground. The white man's trails to the south hadfrightened the buffalo and reduced the herds; the Powder River valleyswere the only ranges left to the Sioux, where they might hunt andalways find plenty of meat.

Some of the Sioux chiefs did sign a treaty for the new road. The onlyOglalas who signed were subchiefs. Red Cloud did not sign. The UnitedStates went ahead, anyway. Troops were sent forward, to begin the workof building the road. Red Cloud, with his Oglalas and some Cheyennes,surrounded them and captured them; held them prisoners for two weeks,until his young men threatened to kill them. Then he released them,with a warning.

"I shall stand in the trail," he said. Those were the words ofPontiac, to Major Rogers, one hundred years before.

United States officials were ordered to Fort Laramie, to talk with theangry Red Cloud. He declined to meet them.

But already a number of white gold-seekers had entered by this BozemanTrail, as it was known. In June, of the next year, 1866, the UnitedStates tried again to get Red Cloud's name on the paper. A council wascalled at Fort Laramie.

During the last year, another fort had been located. It was FortReno—the first out-post of the new trail, at the Powder River, onehundred and sixty-seven miles along from Laramie.

Red Cloud, and his lieutenant, They-fear-even-his-horses, came in totalk with the United States, at Fort Laramie. A great throng ofIndians was present, for Fort Laramie was a busy post.

Nothing could be done with the Red Cloud band. The United States waswilling to promise that nobody should be allowed to leave the new road,or to disturb any game. Red Cloud only shook his head. He well knewthat the white travelers would not obey the law. They would hunt andcamp, as they chose.

"Wah-nee-chee!" he said. "No good! Why do you come here and ask forwhat you have already taken? A fort has been built, and the road isbeing used. I say again, we will not sell our hunting grounds for aroad."

But the United States had decided. The Government had been assured bythe treaty makers that all the Sioux would finally yield. There waslast fall's treaty, as a starter. The Sioux from every band hadsigned. Besides, the Government could not give up the right to openroads. A railroad had the power to take right-of-way through towns andlands; and a Government wagon road should have the same license.

So certain was the Government that the road would be opened, that evenwhile the council with the Red Cloud Oglalas was in session, therearrived at Fort Laramie Colonel Henry B. Carrington of the EighteenthInfantry, with seven hundred soldiers.

Red Cloud saw the camp.

"Where are those soldiers going?"

"They are sent to open the new road and build forts."

"The Americans seek to steal our land whether we say yes or no!"angrily uttered Red Cloud. "They will have to fight."

He and They-fear-even-his-horses (whom the white men called"Young-man-afraid-of-his-horses") seized their rifles, and rode away,and three hundred of their warriors followed them.

"Red Cloud means war," warned the Indians who remained. "The GreatFather makes us presents, to buy the road; but the white soldiers cometo steal it first. In two moons the white war chief will not have ahoof left."

An express sent after Red Cloud, to ask him to return, was whipped withbows and ordered to get out and tell the white chiefs that Red Cloudwould not talk about the road.

Colonel Carrington marched on, into the forbidden land. The officers'wives were with them. Traders along the line insisted that the Indianswere determined to fight; but some of the emigrant outfits bound overthe trail to the mines were scornful of danger. One emigrant captainlaughed, when the women were timid.

"You'll never see an Injun unless he comes in to beg for sugar andtobacco," he said. "I've been on the plains too long to be scared bysuch trash."

This was at Fort Reno. That very morning, in broad daylight RedCloud's band ran off all the post sutler's horses and mules while thesoldiers looked on. Eighty men pursued, and captured only one Indianpony loaded with goods obtained at Fort Laramie.

Colonel Carrington left a detachment here at the Powder River, to builda better Fort Reno. He marched on.

Meanwhile Red Cloud had been growing stronger. Sioux warriors werehastening to join him. Spotted Tail of the Brulés had declined toaccept the treaty for opening the road—he waited for Red Cloud; but hewas wisely staying at home. However, his Brulé young men were ridingaway in large numbers, and he told the white people at Fort Laramiethat if they "went far on the trail they had better go prepared to lookout for their hair."

Red Cloud was watching the march of the soldiers. He did not attack;but when he saw them pushing on, and finally making camp to locateanother fort, fifty miles northwest of Reno, on Piney Fork ofLodge-pole Creek, in the Big Horn Mountains of northern Wyoming, heagain sent a message, by a party of soldiers whom he met and turnedback.

"The white chief must take his soldiers out of this country. Let himdecide for peace or war. If he wants peace, he can go back to PowderRiver. The fort there can stay. But no forts shall be built fartheron the road, and no soldiers shall march over the road which has neverbeen given to the white people."

Red Cloud wanted an answer at once. He also asked that the white chiefcome to him with an interpreter, and settle matters in a council. Butthe messenger was held at the fort for a short time, and Red Cloudmoved his warriors to a new place.

Colonel Carrington invited the Sioux to come to the camp; and wentahead building his fort. Some bands of Northern Cheyennes appeared fora talk. They said that Red Cloud had urged them to join the Sioux inkeeping the white men out of the hunting grounds, and that he knew whatthe soldiers had been doing every hour since they left Fort Laramie.

The Cheyennes seemed a little fearful of the Sioux; but said that ifthey were given provisions, they would stay away from the white trail.

When the Cheyennes returned to the Sioux, Red Cloud asked them what thewhite chief had said.

"Is he going back to the Powder River?"

"No," answered Black Horse, of the Cheyennes. "The white chief willnot go back, and his soldiers will go on."

"What presents did he give you?"

"All we wanted to eat. He wishes the Sioux and the Cheyennes and allthe other Indians to go to Fort Laramie, and sign the treaty, and getmore presents. I think that we had better take the white man's handand presents, rather than fight him and lose everything."

"No!" replied Red Cloud. "The white man lies and steals. My lodgeswere many; now they are few. The white man wants all. He must fight,and the Indian will die where his fathers died."

With that, the Sioux unstrung their bows and whipped the Cheyennes onthe face and back, crying, "Coup!" as if they were striking the enemy.

So Black Horse sent word that the Sioux intended war.

The fort was named Fort Phil Kearney. It was built of timber cut inthe pine woods seven miles distant, and was surrounded by a palisade orhigh fence of thick pickets set upright.

Saw mills were placed in the woods, and the wood-camps were protectedby block-houses. Almost one hundred wagons were used, to haul the logsand boards.

One hundred miles onward, another fort was started: Fort C. F. Smith.

The Crows informed Colonel Carrington that Red Cloud had tried toenlist even them—that all the Sioux were uniting to drive out thewhite men from this region, and that in the fall there would be a "bigfight" at the two forts.

White Mouth and Rotten Tail said that they were half a day in ridingthrough the Sioux village; there were fifteen hundred lodges. Intruth, Chief Red Cloud had over two thousand warriors, with whom tostand in the path.

And there he stood. Nobody might doubt that. His raiders watchedevery mile of the trail back to Powder River, and not an emigrant traingot through. He himself, with two thousand warriors, guarded FortKearney, where the white chief lived.

Nobody might venture from it to hunt game. The wood wagons might moveonly when many together and well armed. Not a load of hay could bebrought in without strong escort. After a time no mail could be senton to Fort Smith.

Colonel Carrington had five companies of infantry and one company ofthe Second Cavalry. The infantry was mostly recruits. Their guns wereold style muzzle loaders; but the band had the new Spencerbreech-loaders.

He asked for better guns and more ammunition. The Government was notcertain that the Sioux could do much against soldiers of a countrywhich had just been trained by a four years' war, and Carrington wasleft to prove it.

Chief Red Cloud had his first chance to prove the opposite on December6. He had been amusing his warriors by letting them gallop past thefort and shout challenges to the soldiers to come out and fight; thenwhen the cannon shot at them, they dodged the shells—but did notalways succeed.

The big guns that shot twice surprised them.

On the morning of December 6 Red Cloud struck in earnest, and hadplanned to strike hard. He had a line of signal flags seven mileslong, by which to direct his army. Then he sent a company to attack awood train.

The attack on the wood train brought the troops out of the fort. Onedetachment of thirty-five cavalry and a few mounted infantry wascommanded by Captain William J. Fetterman. He was very anxious tofight Indians; in fact, the officers all had set their hearts upon"taking Red Cloud's scalp."

Captain Fetterman rescued the wagon train, by chasing the Sioux away;but in about five miles Red Cloud faced his men about and closed. Itwas an ambuscade. The troopers of the cavalry were stampeded, and thecaptain found himself, with two other officers and a dozen men,surrounded by yelling warriors.

Colonel Carrington arrived just in time to save him; but youngLieutenant H. S. Bingham of the Second Cavalry was killed, and so wasSergeant Bowers.

When Captain Fetterman had returned to the fort he had changed his mindregarding the prowess of the Sioux, whom he had thought to be onlyrobbers.

"I have learned a lesson," he remarked. "This Indian war has become ahand-to-hand fight, and requires great caution. I'll take no morerisks like that of today!"

Red Cloud was not satisfied. His warriors had not done exactly as hehad told them to do. He bided his time.

On the morning of December 21 he was again ready. His men werestationed, waiting for a wood train to appear. It appeared, startingout to chop timber in the pine woods, and haul the logs to the fort.

It was an unusually strong train—a number of heavy wagons, and ninetyarmed men.

Red Cloud let it get about four miles along, and ordered it attacked.He had spies upon a ridge of hills, to watch the fort.

When the attack was heard at the fort, soldiers dashed out. The RedCloud warriors allowed the wagon train to think that it had whippedthem. He withdrew, across the ridge.

The leader of the soldiers was Captain Fetterman, again. He had askedfor the command. With him was Captain Fred H. Brown, who expected togo back to Fort Laramie, and wished, first, to get a scalp. He andCaptain Fetterman were rivals for scalps and had almost forgotten theaffair of December 6. They were gallant soldiers, but reckless.

Altogether the detachment numbered seventy-nine officers and men, andtwo scouts named Wheatley and Fisher.

Captain Fetterman was distinctly ordered by Colonel Carrington to donothing but rescue the wagon train. He must not cross the ridge inpursuit of the Sioux.

Captain Fetterman did not move directly for the place of the wagontrain. He made a circuit, to cut off the attacking Sioux, at theirrear, or between the wagon train and the ridge to the north of it.

He had taken no surgeon, so Dr. Hines was hurried after him. Thedoctor came back in another hurry. He reported that the wagon trainwas on its way to the timber, without the captain; and that the captainhad disappeared, over the ridge! Many Indians were in sight, and thedoctor had been obliged to stop short.

Now, on a sudden, there was a burst of distant gun-fire. In twelveminutes a second detachment of soldiers was on the run, from the fortfor the battle; wagons and ambulances and more men followed; and soononly one hundred and nineteen men remained.

The firing was very heavy, in volleys—then in fire-at-will; then itdied down—quit. Not a sound could be heard, as the women and men inFort Kearney strained their ears and eyes.

Presently a courier from the second detachment galloped headlong in.He said that the valley beyond the ridge was swarming with Sioux; theyyelled and dared the soldiers to come down to the road there. But ofthe Captain Fetterman command, no trace could be sighted.

The soldiers and the reinforcements stayed out all the afternoon. Theyreturned at dark; but of the eighty-one others, none came back. All ofthem, the entire eighty-one, had fallen to the army of Red Cloud.

Nobody was alive to tell the story of the fight. The signs on thefield were plain, though; and of course the Red Cloud warriors knewwell what had occurred.

Captain Fetterman had crossed the ridge, to chase the Sioux. Twothousand Red Cloud men were waiting for him. They permitted him toadvance to the forbidden road. The white soldiers fought until theirammunition was almost spent. Then the Red Cloud men rushed. Only sixof the white soldiers were shot; the rest were killed by hand.

The plan of Red Cloud and his chiefs had been laid to get all thetroops out of the fort, together; kill them and seize the fort.

But the warriors had not waited long enough. Their victory was tooquick, and they lost too many men, themselves, in the one fight:seventy, of killed and wounded, they said; sixty-five of killed, alone,said the red blotches on the field.

Still, Red Cloud had closed the road with the bodies of the soldiers.He had made his word good.

The garrison in Fort Kearney gave up all thought of glory by capturingRed Cloud; and this winter there was no more fighting. How manywarriors Red Cloud had, to "cover the hills with their scarletblankets," nobody knew; but the count ran from three thousand to fivethousand.

The spring came, and the summer came, and the road had not been opened.In more than a year, not a single wagon had passed upon it, through thehunting grounds of the Sioux.

Another white chief had been sent to take command of Fort Phil Kearney.He was Brigadier General H. W. Wessels. All this summer the soldierswere having to fight for wood and water. The contractor in charge ofthe teams hauling lumber complained that he must have more protectionor he would be unable to do the work.

Captain James Powell of the Twenty-seventh Infantry was ordered out toprotect the lumber camps. He took Lieutenant John C. Jenness andfifty-one men.

The wood choppers had two camps, about a mile apart. The captaindetailed twenty-five of his men to guard the one camp, and escort thewagon trains to the fort; with the twenty-six others he made a fort ofwagon boxes, at the second camp.

He arranged fourteen of the wagon boxes on the ground, in a circle.Some of the boxes had been lined with boiler iron. Two wagons wereleft on wheels, so that the rifles might be aimed from underneath. Theboxes were pierced low down with a row of loop-holes. The spacesbetween the ends of the boxes were filled with ox-chains, slabs andbrush. He had plenty of ammunition and plenty of new breech-loadingrifles.

The little fort was located in an open basin, surrounded by gentlehills. He directed the men of the other camp to come in at the firstsign of trouble.

The Sioux were at hand. Red Cloud had been merely waiting for thesoldiers to march out and make it worth his while to descend. He wasresolved to destroy Fort Kearney this year, before the snows.

It seemed to him that again he had the soldiers where he wanted them.Word of the flimsy little corral spread a laugh among his two thousandwarriors. The squaws and old men were summoned from the allied Siouxand out-law Cheyenne village, to come and see and be ready with theirknives.

On the morning of August 2 he so suddenly attacked the unfortified woodcamp that he cut it off completely. Two hundred of his men capturedthe mule herd; five hundred of them attacked the wagon train there,burned the wagons and drove the soldiers and teamsters and choppers whowere outside the corral, in flight to Fort Kearney. Scalps were taken.

Now it was the turn of the puny corral, and the rest of the soldiers.

He could see only the low circle of wagon-boxes. They were coveredwith blankets; underneath the blankets there were soldiers—few andfrightened.

The hill slopes around were thronged with his people, gathered to watchand to plunder. He felt like a great chief indeed. And at wave of hishand eight hundred of his cavalry dashed in a thundering, cracklingsurge of death straight at the silent circle.

On they sped, and on, and on, and were just about to dash against thecircle and sweep over, when suddenly such a roar, and sheet of flame,struck them in the face that they staggered and melted. Now—while theguns were empty! But the guns were not yet empty—they belched withoutpause. Veering right and left around a bloody lane the warriors,crouching low, tore for safety from the frightful blast.

Red Cloud could not understand. His own men were well armed, withrifles and with muskets captured from the soldiers during the past yearor supplied at the trading post. It seemed to him that there were moresoldiers under those blankets than he had reckoned. But he knew thathis men were brave; his people were watching from the hills; he had nomind for defeat.

In the corral Captain Powell had told his twenty-six soldiers and fourcivilians to fight for their lives. The poor shots were ordered toload guns and pass them as fast as possible to the crack shots.

Red Cloud rallied his whole force, of more than two thousand. Hedismounted eight hundred and sent them forward to crawl along theground, as sharpshooters; they ringed the corral with bullets andarrows.

He himself led twelve hundred, afoot, for a charge. His young nephewwas his chief aide—to win the right to be head chief after Red Cloud'sdeath.

But although they tried, in charge after charge, for three hours, theycould not enter the little fort. Sometimes they got within tenyards—the soldiers threw augers at them, and they threw the augersback—and back they reeled, themselves. The guns of the little fortnever quit!

Red Cloud still could not understand. He called a council. In theopinion of his chiefs and braves, the white soldiers were armed withguns that shot of themselves and did not need reloading.

The squaws on the hills were wailing; his men were discouraged; manyhad fallen. So finally he ordered that the bodies be saved, and thefight ended. His braves again crawled forward, behind shields, withropes; tied the ropes to the bodies, in spite of the bullets, andrunning, snaked the bodies away behind them.

"Some bad god fought against us," complained the Red Cloud people."The white soldiers had a great medicine. We were burned by fire."

And all the Indians of the plains, hearing about the mystery, when thebreech-loading rifles mowed down the Sioux and the Cheyennes, spoke ofthe bad god fight that defeated Chief Red Cloud.

The Sioux reported that they had lost eleven hundred and thirty-fivewarriors. Red Cloud's nephew was sorely wounded in the charge.Captain Fetterman's loss was Lieutenant Jenness and two men killed, twomen wounded. He said that when the reinforcements, with the cannon,arrived from Fort Kearney, while the Sioux were removing their dead, hewas in despair. Another charge or two and he would have been wiped out.

But the road remained closed. Red Cloud remained in the path. Thisfall the Government decided that, after all, it had no right to openthe road. In April of the next year, 1868, another treaty was signedwith the Sioux and the Cheyennes, by which the United States gave upany claim to the Powder River and Big Horn country, and the Indianspromised to let the Union Pacific Railroad alone.

Red Cloud did not sign. "The white men are liars," he insisted; and hewaited until the three forts, Smith and Kearney and Reno, wereabandoned. Then, in November, after his warriors had burned them, andall the soldiers were gone out of the country, he put his name to thetreaty.

Thus he won out. He had said that he would close the road, and he haddone it.

Through the following years he remained quiet. He had had his fill offighting. His name was great. He was head chief of the Red Cloudagency, later called Pine Ridge. Spotted Tail of the Brulés controlledthe other agency, later called Rosebud.

Red Cloud always closely watched the whites. He was at peace, butsuspicious. When the Black Hills were finally demanded by the UnitedStates, he sent out men to count the buffalo. The number in sight wastoo small. Some day, soon, the Indians would have no meat on theirhunting grounds. Therefore Red Cloud decided that the red men mustbegin to live by aid of the white man; and he favored thereservations—even the sale of the Black Hills so that his people wouldbe made rich enough to settle down.

He was looked up to as a warrior and a councillor, but the UnitedStates did not trust him; and after a time, put Spotted Tail over him,in charge of the two agencies. This made bad feeling, and Red Cloudand Spotted Tail did not speak to each other. However, his own people,who rose under Sitting Bull, urged him to join with them, in vain.

Red Cloud lived to be a very old man. He became almost blind, andpartly paralyzed. He stuck to his one wife. They were together formany years.

He died in December, 1909, in a two-story house built for him by theGovernment on the Pine Ridge agency in South Dakota. He was agedeighty-seven. Five years before he had given his chief-ship over tohis son, young Red Cloud, who carried the name. It is a name that willnever be forgotten.

CHAPTER XXIII

STANDING BEAR SEEKS A HOME (1877-1880)

THE INDIAN WHO WON THE WHITE MAN'S VERDICT

The Ponca Indians were members of the large Siouan family. They hadnot always been a separate tribe. In the old days they and the Omahasand the Kansas and the Osages had lived together as Omahas, near themouth of the Osage River in eastern Nebraska.

Soon they divided, and held their clan names of Poncas, Omahas, Kansasand Osages.

The Poncas and Omahas clung as allies. Finally the Poncas remained bythemselves, low down on the Niobrara River in northern Nebraska.

When the captains, Lewis and Clark, met some of them, the tribe hadbeen cut by the small-pox to only some two hundred people. They neverhave been a big people. Their number today, about eight hundred andfifty, is as large as ever in their history.

They and the Omahas warred with the Sioux, but they never warred withthe white men. They have always been friendly to the white men, exceptonce; and that once brings up the story of Standing Bear.

Back in 1817 the Poncas made a treaty of friendship with the UnitedStates; and in 1825 they made another treaty, allowing white traders tolive among them, and agreeing to let their own bad men (if any) bepunished by the United States; and in 1859 they made another treaty,selling their hunting grounds to the United States, and keeping a tracton the Niobrara River for their own homes.

None of these treaties did they break. They were at peace with eventhe Sioux. They had good farms, and were prospering.

But in 1868 the United States laid out a new reservation for the Sioux.By a mistake this took in the Ponca reservation in Nebraska, and thePoncas were not told. The way they found out, was this: The Siouxbegan to come in and claim the land.

"That is not right," said the Poncas. "You do not belong here. Allthis country is ours. Go back. We do not want you."

So there was fighting, every little while, and the Poncas lost manywarriors. This continued for nine years, until, by the raids of theSioux, one fourth of the Poncas had been killed or captured.

Still they had not been told by the United States that these lands weretheirs no longer; but, suddenly, in 1877, they were told that they mustget out.

At this time they had three villages, on the lower Niobrara River, andeight bands, each under a chief. The chiefs were Standing Bear, WhiteEagle, Big Soldier, Traveling Buffalo, Black Crow, Over-the-land,Woodpecker, and Big-Hoofed Buffalo.

The United States informed the eight chiefs that they must remove theirpeople to the Indian Territory, but did not say why.

Standing Bear had been born in 1829, so he was forty-eight years old.He stood high among the Poncas, because of his clan, the Wa-zha-zhe—aclan that could cure rattle-snake bites and work other wonders.

He strongly opposed giving up the Ponca home-land, upon which the tribehad lived for almost one hundred years, and which the United States hadagreed, on paper, to give them in exchange for their hunting grounds.The other chiefs thought the same. They could not understand why theyall should be thrown off, when they had done nothing wrong.

But the white men paid no attention. One of them, who was the UnitedStates Indian Inspector, only answered:

"The President says that you must sell this land. He will buy it andpay you money, and give you new land in the Indian Territory."

"We do not know your authority," argued Standing Bear. "You have noright to move us until we have held a council with the President."

"If you like the new land, then you can see the President and tell himso," offered the inspector. "If you don't like it, then you can seehim and tell him so."

So Standing Bear and nine other chiefs went; but they were dubious.

The inspector showed the three pieces of land, and told them to choose.All the pieces were bad pieces. It was a hot country and a barecountry, and not suited to the Poncas, who had good corn-fields andhouses in their own country of the Niobrara.

Besides, now the white man said that they were to have no pay for theirNiobrara laud. He told the chiefs, according to Standing Bear:

"If you do not accept what land is offered you here, I will leave youhere alone. You are one thousand miles from home. You have no money.You cannot speak the language."

Then he slammed the door.

"But we do not like this land," explained Standing Bear. "We could notmake a living. The water is bad. Now send us to the President, as youpromised."

The man would not send them. He would not take them home. He wouldnot give them any of the Indian money, for buying food. He would notgive them a paper, to show to the people along the way. He would notgive them the interpreter, to talk for them. He would not take them toa railroad.

"He left us right here," said Standing Bear. "It was winter. Westarted for home on foot. At night we slept in hay-stacks. We barelylived till morning, it was so cold. We had nothing but our blankets.We took the ears of corn that had dried in the fields; we ate it raw.The soles of our moccasins wore out. We were barefoot in the snow. Wewere nearly dead when we reached the Oto reservation. It had beenfifty days."

Their feet made bloody marks on the Oto reservation. The Otos and theOto agent treated them kindly. They stayed ten days, to rest; then theOtos gave them each a pony, and in two more weeks they were home.

It had been a cold, hungry journey, of five hundred miles, and theirrelatives and friends were glad to see them again.

But the United States inspector was waiting for them. He was angry.He said that the Great Father had ordered the Poncas to change homes.It did not seem to matter whether or not they liked the new home. Andhe called for soldiers, and all the Poncas were bundled out of theirvillages and taken to the hot country of the south. On the way womenand children died. Standing Bear's daughter died.

Just as Standing Bear and the other chiefs had tried to explain, thenew country was not a good country for the Poncas. It was humid andhot; their Niobrara country had been dry and bracing. Within one yeara third of them were dead from sickness; the rest were weak andmiserable. They pined for the villages that they had built and loved,and that they had lost without any known reason.

After a year and a half Standing Bear's boy died, as so many others haddied; and the heart of Standing Bear was heavy. He did not sleep, bythinking that his son's bones must lie here in this unfriendly country.His medicine demanded that the boy should rest with their ancestors, inthe Ponca ground along the dear Niobrara.

Therefore, in January, 1879, he placed the bones in a sack, and tiedthe sack to his neck, and taking his people who could travel, he setout to walk to Ponca land.

That was hard work. They made their way as best they could, but hadbeen over three months on it when, in May, they arrived at thereservation of their friends the Omahas, near the Missouri River innortheastern Nebraska.

Chief Standing Bear asked the Omahas if they might rest, and plant afew acres of ground, so as to get food. The Omahas gave them seed andground. Standing Bear still had the bones of his son, in the bag.When he had started a crop, he was going on with the bones, and burythem at the Niobrara, where the Poncas of happier years had been buried.

Before the crop was in, soldiers appeared, and arrested him and all hisparty, to take them back to the hot country.

This much alarmed the Omahas. They had heard how the Poncas had beenmoved off without warning and without reason. Standing Bear was notbeing allowed to stay; he had lost his country forever. The same thingmight happen to the Omahas.

They had a similar treaty with the United States. They thought thatthey owned their lands. They had been improving them and living onthem for years. They had spent much money of the tribe, for tools andbuildings, and were becoming like white men. The Government had issuedpapers to them, showing which land each man possessed.

Now they were liable to lose their lands, as the Poncas had lost.

The Omahas hastened to ask white lawyers about it. They were told thatthe papers did not show that they owned the land; the papers onlyshowed which lands each man had a right to farm.

The Omahas were Indians, and not white citizens, and could not ownlands, man by man. When a man died, his land might be given tosomebody else.

Now dread fastened upon the Omaha tribe. They hastened to draw up apetition to Congress, asking that the lands which their men owned orthought they owned be put down on paper forever. They wanted titlessuch as the white men had, so the lands could be recorded.

Miss Alice Fletcher, from Washington, had been sent to study the Omahapeople; and they appealed to her. She helped them. The petition wentto Washington, but the months passed without an answer.

Meanwhile Standing Bear and his bag of bones and his party were beingtaken south, by the soldiers from Fort Crook, Omaha, to the sickly hotcountry. When they camped on their way, near Omaha, a newspaper mantalked with them. His name was Mr. T. H. Tibbles.

The story was printed in the Omaha papers, and at once Standing Bearhad many white allies.

The Omaha City people invited him to come in and talk to them; and sohe did, in a church that was crowded with listeners. Two lawyers, Mr.Poppleton and Mr. Webster, adopted him as a client; and before thesoldiers had started on with him, the lawyers asked the court for awrit of habeas corpus—a challenge to the United States to surrenderhim, as a person who had been unlawfully arrested.

The United States argued that Standing Bear was an Indian, and that anIndian was not a "person," under the laws of the United States; he didnot have any rights, in court.

Standing Bear had left his tribe, and was nobody, until he returned;and even then, he would be only an Indian.

Standing Bear's lawyers brought witnesses into court, to state that theStanding Bear party had traveled peacefully, like good citizens; hadnot even begged along the way.

Standing Bear was told to arise and repeat his story. Part of it iscontained in this chapter. It was a remarkable speech. The people inthe court-room believed it. Standing Bear's heart warmed. He was noIndian; he was a man.

The judge decided. He said that an Indian was a person, and had aright to the courts, and to liberty when he had not done wrong. ThePoncas had been unjustly removed by force from their lands, andStanding Bear's party had been unjustly arrested. Therefore theyshould be released.

When this word was carried to Standing Bear by his lawyers, he was sopleased that he almost wept.

"Before this," he said, "when we have been wronged we went to war toget back our rights and avenge our wrongs. We took the tomahawk. Wehad no law to punish those who did us wrong, and we went out to kill.If they had guns and could kill us first, it was the fate of war. Butyou have found us a better way. You have gone into court for us, and Ifind that our wrongs can be righted there. Now I have no more use forthe tomahawk. I want to lay it down forever." So he put it on thefloor. "I lay it down. I have found a better way. I can now seek theways of peace."

He gave the tomahawk to Attorney Webster, "to keep in remembrance ofthe great victory."

And a great victory it was, not only for the Poncas, but for all theIndians. Standing Bear's trip with the bones had gained him many newfriends.

Now he traveled straight to the Niobrara, and nobody dared to stop him.

The next winter he made a tour of the East, with interpreters, and withMr. Tibbles the newspaper ally. He spoke from many platforms, tellingof the wrongs of the Indians. The newspapers everywhere spread histalk wider. Soon letters from white people and their societies beganto pour into Washington, for the President and for the Congressmen.

As a result, in the spring of 1880 the Senate of the United States senta commission into the West, to find out if Standing Bear's stories werereally true.

They were true. Therefore the Poncas were told that they might go backto the Niobrara, if they wished. Some did so. They were called theCold Country Band. Those who were willing to stay in the IndianTerritory were granted better lands, and they were paid for the landsthat they had lost in the north. They were called the Hot Country Band.

Each band was given titles to the lands held by it. The Omahas, too,won out, and were given titles. They and the Poncas secured the rightsof citizens of the United States.

As for Standing Bear, he died, well satisfied and much honored, in1908, aged seventy-nine, and was buried there near the Niobrara, inancient Ponca country, where his ancestors slept. He had saved histribe.

CHAPTER XXIV

SITTING BULL THE WAR MAKER (1876-1881)

AN UNCONQUERED LEADER

The treaty that Chief Red Cloud at last signed in the fall of 1868 washalf white and half red. The white part made the Sioux agree to areservation which covered all of present South Dakota west of theMissouri River. Here they were to live and be fed. The red part, putin by Red Cloud, said that the whole country west of the reservation tothe Big Horn Mountains of northern Wyoming, and north of the NorthPlatte River, should be Indian country. Here the Sioux and theirIndian friends were to hunt as they pleased.

This closed the road, and gave the Powder River region to the Sioux.They might chase the buffalo, from central Wyoming up across Montanaclear to Canada, and no white man could interfere. It was their owngame reserve—and the best game reserve in the United States.

The Sioux numbered thirty thousand. Many of them preferred living intheir hunting grounds instead of upon the reservation. That was theirnatural life—to hunt and to war. Besides, they found out that theUnited States was not doing as had been promised. There were to becows, seeds, farm tools, teachers, and so forth, for the reservationIndians—and scarcely a third of these things was supplied.

The Indians upon the reservation did not live nearly so comfortably asthose who did as they pleased, in the hunting grounds.

So the treaty did not work out well. The hunting-ground Indians wereperfectly free. They had guests from other tribes; and in the passingback and forth, white men were attacked. The Crows of western Montanacomplained that the Sioux invaded them, and that they might as well goto war, themselves, as try to stay at home.

The Government had intended that the Sioux should settle upon the bigreservation, and from there take their hunting trips. Speedily, or in1869, General Sherman, head of the army, declared that the Indiansfound outside of the reservation might be treated as hostiles, andbrought back.

Nevertheless, by the terms of the Red Cloud treaty, the Sioux had aright to be in this country, which was all theirs, if they behavedthemselves.

Among the leaders of the hunting-ground Sioux, Sitting Bull ranked withthe foremost. He was a Hunkpapa Sioux, of the Teton division—in whichSpotted Tail was leader of the Brulés and Red Cloud of the Oglalas.

But Sitting Bull was no chief. By his own count he laid claim to beinga great warrior; by the Sioux count he had powerful medicine—he couldtell of events to come. And this was his strong hold upon the Sioux.They feared him.

He had been born in 1834, in present South Dakota. The name given himas a boy was Jumping Badger. His father's name was Four Horns, andalso Ta-tan-ka Yo-tan-ka or Sitting Buffalo-bull. When Jumping Badgerwas only fourteen years old he went with his father on the war trailagainst the Crows. A Crow was killed, and little Jumping Badgertouched the body first, and counted a coup, or stroke.

To be the first to count coup on a fallen enemy was high honor.Frequently a wounded warrior only pretended to be dead, and when hisfoe approached him close, he shot.

Upon their return home, old Sitting Bull gave a feast, and distributedmany horses, and transferred his own name to Jumping Badger.

After this, although young Sitting Bull counted many coups, hepracticed making medicine until he gained much reputation as afuture-teller. He openly hated the whites. His hate was as deep asthat of O-pe-chancan-ough, the Pamunkey.

He grew to be a burly, stout man, with light brown hair and complexion,a grim heavy face pitted by small-pox, and two shrewd, blood-shot eyes.He limped, from a wound.

His band was small; but his camp was the favorite gathering place forthe reservation Indians, on hunting trips. They took presents to him,that he might bring the buffalo.

Thus matters went on, broken with complaints. It was hard to tellwhich were reservation Indians and which were wild Indians. When theSitting Bull people and other bands came in to the reservation, anddrew rations of flour, they emptied the flour on the prairie and usedthe sacks as clothing. This helped to make the reservation Indians illcontent. The wild Indians evidently were living very well indeed.

Along in 1871 the Northern Pacific Railroad wished to build westward.The route would take them through the country given to the Sioux, andthe Sioux said no. Their treaty protected them against the white man'sroads. They attacked a surveying party escorted by soldiers, andkilled two. This was in 1872.

It was a brutal killing. Rain-in-the-face was arrested for this, onthe reservation; but he escaped and vowed vengeance. He went toSitting Bull, and was safe.

In 1874 the United States began to ask for the Pah-sap-pa, or BlackHills, in South Dakota. To the Sioux and the Cheyennes, Pah-sap-pa wasmedicine ground. Spirits dwelt there; it was the home of the ThunderBird and other magic creatures; it contained much game, and quantitiesof tent poles, for lodges.

Spotted Tail of the Brulés went in. He hung around the white men'smining camps, and found out that the white men were crazy for the gold.

The United States had been accustomed to buying Indian land cheap, andgetting rich out of it. Now it offered to buy the Black Hills for sixmillions of dollars, or to rent them for four hundred thousand dollarsa year.

Coached by Spotted Tail and by Red Cloud, the Sioux laughed, and askedsixty millions of dollars. So the deal did not go through, this time.However, the Sioux lost Pah-sap-pa, just the same.

The United States Government was unable to keep the gold-seekers out.They dodged through the troops. There were fights with the Sioux, andthe Sioux became angered in earnest.

They saw their Black Hills invaded by a thousand white men. Otherwhite men, guarded by soldiers, were planning to run a railroad rightthrough the Powder River country. On the Great Sioux reservationSpotted Tail and Red Cloud were the head chiefs; but out on the huntinggrounds the Sitting Bull people stayed and prepared to make war andhold the Sioux lands.

The Sioux on the reservations began to leave, and join Sitting Bull.They felt that Red Cloud's heart was with them. He had notified theUnited States that it must keep the white men out of Sioux country.

The United States also was alarmed. The Sioux seemed to be using thereservation as a sort of supply depot; they got provisions and clothingthere, and took them to the hunting grounds.

General Alfred H. Terry, who commanded the Military Department ofDakota, sent scouts to inform Sitting Bull that unless he came in, withall his people, out of the Big Horn Valley and the Powder Rivercountry, before a certain time, troops would bring him out. Therewould be war.

Sitting Bull answered:

"When you come for me you need bring no guides. You will easily findme. I shall be right here. I shall not run away."

In February, this 1876, the United States started to go after him, butthe cold weather delayed the plans. Then, in May, matters were allarranged. There were to be three columns, to surround the unrulySitting Bull.

General George Crook, the famous Indian fighter, was to march into theBig Horn country from the south with thirteen hundred men; Colonel JohnGibbon was to march in from the west with four hundred men; GeneralTerry's infantry, and General George A. Custer's Seventh Cavalry, onethousand men, were to march in from the east.

They were to meet at the Powder River, and capture Sitting Bull.

A great many Indians had rallied to Sitting Bull and his comrade chiefCrazy Horse—an Oglala who commanded the Cheyennes. Sitting Bull wasmaking medicine. He told the warriors that in a short time there wouldbe a big fight with the soldiers on the Big Horn, and that the soldierswould be defeated.

Crazy Horse struck the enemy first. He met General Crook's column andstopped it. Then he joined Sitting Bull again.

Now in June the Sitting Bull camp upon the Little Big Horn River in theBig Horn Valley of southern Montana was three miles long and containedten thousand people. It had twenty-five hundred good fighters. It wasnot afraid, but its people were here to hunt and dance and have a goodtime. Although they listened to the prophecy of Sitting Bull, theyreally did not expect that the soldiers would find them.

Chief Gall, a fine man, of the Hunkpapas, was head war chief; his aidewas Crow King. Crazy Horse commanded the Northern Cheyennes. The headof the Miniconjou Sioux was Lame Deer. Big Road commanded the Oglalas.There were other Sioux also—some Brulés, and some Without Bows; and afew Blackfeet and Arapahos.

General Custer, whose regular rank was lieutenant-colonel, found thevillage with his Seventh Cavalry. He had left General Terry, in orderto scout across country; and when his scouts told him that the Siouxcamp was before him, he rode on to the attack.

About noon of June 25th he divided his troops into three columns, toattack from different directions. The largest column, of fivecompanies, he led, himself.

Not until that morning did the Sitting Bull people know that thesoldiers were near. There was much excitement. The ponies weresaddled, and the women began to pack their household stuff; but thewarriors did not intend to run away.

Sitting Bull was certain that the white men would be defeated. Thenight before, his medicine had been very strong. An eagle had promiseda great victory. Now he said that during the fight he would stay inthe village and make more medicine. So Chief Gall it was who commanded.

But Sitting Bull did not stay in the village. When the bullets of thesoldiers pelted into the lodges he lost faith in his own prophecy.Taking his two wives and whatever else he might gather, he bolted for asafer place. He missed one of his twin boys, but he did not stop tolook for him.

He was ten miles out, when he received news of the victory. And aterrible victory that had been: of the five companies of GeneralCuster, the Long Hair, only one man had escaped—although the Sioux didnot know of that escape. He was Curly, a Crow scout. At any rate, theLong Hair's warriors, to the number of two hundred and twelve, had beenkilled in an hour.

The other soldiers were penned up, and could be killed, too.

So Sitting Bull rode back again, with his family. He said that he hadnot intended to run away. He had been out in the hills, making hismedicine; and the bodies of the soldiers would prove it.

That certainly seemed true. The Indians had lost only twenty, and hadkilled more than two hundred.

Sitting Bull was greater than ever. Never before had such a victorybeen won at such little cost. This night the village danced and sang,and Sitting Bull kept by himself, and accepted the presents given tohim.

Chief Gall had thought to starve out the soldiers who were penned up,and were being watched by warriors. These were the two other columns,of the Seventh Cavalry. But the next day, General Terry and ColonelGibbon approached, in order (they had planned) to meet the Custerdetachment. When Chief Gall heard that the "walking soldiers" werenearing, he decided that there had been fighting enough.

So he ordered the village to be broken, and the warriors to come in;they all left before dark, depending upon the medicine of Sitting Bullto lead them to new hunting grounds.

Soon Crazy Horse took his band and branched off for himself. He was anephew of Chief Spotted Tail, but fierce against the whites. The restfollowed Chief Sitting Bull and Chief Gall.

For a while they saw no more soldiers. Now and then other Indians fromthe reservation joined them, bringing supplies; and now and thenparties left, to scout by themselves. Sitting Bull and Gall and allknew this country very well; it was Sioux country. They knew it farbetter than the soldiers did. There were many hiding places.

When the weather began to grow cold, in the fall, the Sitting Bullpeople commenced to think of winter. They received word that thesoldiers were stopping everybody from leaving the reservation. Thiscut down the supplies.

The Gray Fox, who was General Crook, struck several bands in the midstof the hunting grounds. He had wiped out American Horse and hadpressed Crazy Horse very hard. More soldiers were pouring in.

The Sitting Bull band numbered three thousand. They used lots of meat.The buffalo were being frightened by so much travel of soldiers, andfor the band to stay long in one spot was dangerous. Some of the womenand men got faint-hearted, and deserted. They carried word to thesoldiers, and asked to be sent to the reservation. Sitting Bull'smedicine did not prevent them from running away.

He and Gall planned to march farther northward, across the YellowstoneRiver, to a better buffalo country, and make camp for a big hunt. Astore of meat ought to be laid in, before winter.

A new fort was being located on the Yellowstone at the mouth of theTongue River, southeastern Montana. They marched to cross theYellowstone below; this fort; and while near the Yellowstone they droveback a soldiers' wagon-train that was trying to reach the fort.

The wagons tried again, five days later, and there was another fight.Sitting Bull sent a note to the white chief.

Yellowstone.

I want to know what you are doing traveling by this road. You scareall the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I want you toturn back from here. If you don't, I will fight you again. I want youto leave what you have got here and turn back from here.

I am your friend.
SITTING BULL.

I mean all the rations you have got and some powder. Wish you wouldwrite as soon as you can.

This was a "feeler," to see what kind of a man the white chief was.The white chief, whose name was Lieutenant-Colonel E. S. Otis, of theTwenty-second Infantry, answered at once.

To Sitting Bull:

I intend to take this train through to Tongue River, and will bepleased to accommodate you with a fight at any time.

Sitting Bull and his chiefs held council. If they might make a peace,they could stay out all winter with their families, and when the grassgreened in the spring they could travel as they pleased. The whitesoldiers had the advantage, in the winter.

So two Indians were sent forward with a flag of truce, to say that theSitting Bull people were hungry and tired, and to propose a peace talk.The white chief said that there was a higher chief at the mouth of theTongue River, with whom they must talk, but he sent them some bread andbacon.

Sitting Bull and Chief Gall, Low Neck, Pretty Bull and the others didnot go to find the white commanding chief; they continued on, and in afew days the American commander caught up with them, himself, north ofthe Yellowstone.

He agreed to meet Sitting Bull between the lines, for a talk. Theyeach took six men. The white chief was Colonel Nelson A. Miles. Hehad only about four hundred soldiers, and one cannon. Sitting Bull hadone thousand warriors, and was not afraid.

"What are all these soldiers doing in this country?" he demanded. "Whydon't they stay in their forts, where they belong? It is time theywent there, for the winter."

"The soldiers are in this country to bring you and your men out and putthem on the reservation," replied Colonel Miles. "We do not wish war.But if you insist on war, then you will be shut up. You cannot roamabout over the country, and cause trouble."

"This country belongs to the Indian and not to the white man," retortedSitting Bull. "We want nothing to do with the white man. We want thewhite man to go away, and leave us alone. No white man ever lived wholoved an Indian, and no true Indian ever lived that did not hate thewhite man. God Almighty made me an Indian. He did not make me anagency Indian, and I'll fight and die fighting before any white man canmake me an agency Indian. How did you know where I was to be found?"

"I not only knew where you were, but I know where you came from andwhere you're going," asserted Colonel Miles.

"Where am I going?"

"You intend to remain here three days, and then move to the Big Dry andhunt buffalo."

This showed Sitting Bull that he had been betrayed by spies. He flaredinto a rage, and his words were hot. He hated the whites; he had athousand warriors at his back, and his power was great.

He would make peace, but only if all the white men got out of thecountry. There must be no forts or roads or towns. He wanted nopresents of food or clothing from the United States. If the UnitedStates would leave a few trading posts, he would trade for powder andflour, but he would live free, to do as he chose.

So this talk and other talks amounted to nothing new. The white chieftold him to prepare for war, and there was a battle. At one moment,the Sitting Bull warriors had the soldiers surrounded; but the cannonshells were too much to face, the walking soldiers stood stanch, andfinally the Sioux had to retreat with their families.

The white chief, Miles, proved to be a stubborn fighter. He pursuedand captured almost all the camp supplies. This broke the hearts ofthe Sitting Bull band. His medicine had grown weak. Five chiefs, withtwo thousand of the warriors and women and children, surrendered, so asto be kept warm and to be sure of food. But Sitting Bull and Gall wenton, leading four hundred northward.

The weather got very cold and snowy. They stayed for a time near theMissouri River in northern Montana. Sitting Bull's medicine failedentirely. The soldiers marched upon them right through the blizzards,and no place seemed safe.

The other bands were being captured. The walking soldiers and thebig-guns-that-shot-twice were everywhere, to south, east and west. TheCrazy Horse Cheyennes and Oglalas were taken. They agreed to go uponthe reservation.

When Sitting Bull heard of this, he resolved to get out of reach of theAmericans altogether. He and Gall headed north again, and crossed intoCanada.

This was Sioux country, too. The Sioux never had had any dispute withthe Great White Mother; she seemed better than the Great White Father.Accordingly Sitting Bull plumped himself and his band down upon Canadaground, and defied the United States to meddle with him.

Other runaways joined him. It was now spring. Some of the runawayswere from the reservation. They reported that they had almost starved,there, during the winter.

So when the United States sent up after Sitting Bull, he laughed.General Terry, his old enemy, was in the American party, and did thetalking.

The President invited the Sioux to come back into the United States,and give up their arms and their horses, in exchange for cows. SittingBull replied scornfully.

"For sixty-four years you have kept me and my people, and treated usbad. What have we done that you should wish us to stop? We have donenothing. It is all the people on your side who have started us to doas we did. We could not go anywhere else, so we came here. I wouldlike to know why you come here? I did not give you that country; butyou followed me about, so I had to leave and come over to this country.You have got ears, and eyes to see with, and you see how I live withthese people. You see me. Here I am. If you think I am a fool, youare a bigger fool than I am. You come here to tell us lies, but wedon't want to hear them. I don't wish any such language used to me.This country is mine, and I intend to stay here and raise this countryfull of grown people. That is enough, so no more. The part of thecountry you gave me, you ran me out of. I don't want to hear two morewords. I wish you to go back, and to take it easy going back. Tellthem in Washington if they have one man who speaks the truth to sendhim to me and I will listen. I don't believe in a Government that hasmade fifty-two treaties with the Sioux and has kept none of them."

Back went the commission, to report that they could do nothing at allwith Sitting Bull.

Other parties from the American side of the line crossed over to talkwith Sitting Bull. He laid down the law to them.

"If the Great Father gives me a reservation I don't want to be held onany part of it. I will keep on the reservation, but I want to go whereI please. I don't want a white man over me. I don't want an agent. Iwant to have a white man with me, but not to be my chief. I can'ttrust any one else to trade with my people or talk to them. I wantinterpreters, but I want it to be seen and known that I have my rights.I don't want to give up game as long as there is any game. I will behalf white until the game is gone. Then I will be all white."

"Did you lead in the Custer fight?"

"There was a Great Spirit who guided and controlled that battle. Icould do nothing. I was supported by the Great Mysterious One. I amnot afraid to talk about that. It all happened—it is past and gone.I do not lie. Low Dog says I can't fight until some one lends me aheart. Gall says my heart is no bigger than a finger-nail. We haveall fought hard. We did not know Custer. When we saw him we threw upour hands, and I cried, 'Follow me and do as I do.' We whipped eachother's horses, and it was all over."

By this it is seen that Sitting Bull was a poser, and had lost therespect of the Sioux. Chief Gall despised him. The camp was gettingunhappy. The life in Canada was not an easy life. The Great WhiteMother let the red children stay, because it was Indian country, butshe refused to feed them, or help them against the United States.

There were no buffalo near. When the Sioux raided into the UnitedStates, the soldiers and the Crow scouts were waiting. Their oldhunting grounds were closed tight.

Rain-in-the-face and other chiefs surrendered, to go to thereservation. Chief Gall defied Sitting Bull, and took two thirds ofthe remaining Indians and surrendered, also.

Sitting Bull now had only forty-five men and one hundred and fortywomen and children. They all were starving. A white scout visitedthem, with promise of pardon by the United States. So in July, of1881, after he had stayed away four years, he surrendered, at FortBuford at the mouth of the Yellowstone River.

He came in sullen and sour and unconquered, but not as a conqueror.They all were dirty and shabby and hungry. With Sitting Bull thererode on ponies his old father, Four Horns, and his elder children. Ina wagon piled high with camp goods rode his two wives, one of whom wasnamed Pretty Plume, and his small children.

A long train of other wagons and carts followed. There was no glory inthis return.

At the Standing Rock Sioux agency he found that Chief Gall was the realruler. The people there now thought little of Sitting Bull. Hismedicine had proved weak. He tried to make it strong, and he waslaughed at.

Soon the Government deemed best to remove him and his main band, andshut them up for a while. Sitting Bull was kept a prisoner of war fortwo years. After that he took a trip through the East, but he washissed. He rode in the Buffalo Bill Wild West show for a short time.But the white people never forgot the Custer battle, and looked uponSitting Bull as a thoroughly bad Indian.

He assumed to settle down, at peace, upon the Standing Rockreservation, in a cabin not far from the place where he had been born.But as he had said, he was not "an agency Indian," and did not want tobe an agency Indian.

There is another chapter to be written about Sitting Bull.

CHAPTER XXV

CHIEF JOSEPH GOES TO WAR (1877)

AND OUT-GENERALS THE UNITED STATES ARMY

After Colonel Nelson A. Miles of the Fifth Infantry had driven SittingBull and Chief Gall of the Sioux into Canada and his troops were tryingto stop their raids back, at present Fort Keogh near Miles City on theYellowstone River in southeastern Montana he received word of anotherIndian war.

The friendly Pierced Noses of Oregon had broken the peace chain. Theyhad crossed the mountains and were on their way north, for Canada.

That the Pierced Noses had taken the war trail was astonishing news.For one hundred years they had held the hand of the white man. Theirproudest boast said: "The Nez Percés have never shed white blood."

They spoke truly. During the seventy years since the two captainsLewis and Clark had met them in 1805, only one white man had beenkilled by a Pierced Nose. That was not in war, but in a privatequarrel between the two.

Hunters, traders and missionaries had always been helped by the PiercedNoses. The white man's religion had been favored. The Good Book hadbeen prized.

Young Chief Joseph was now the leader of the Pierced Noses upon the wartrail. His Indian name was Hin-ma-tonYa-lat-kit—Thunder-rising-from-the-water-over-the-land. But hisfather had been christened Joseph by the missionaries; so the son wascalled Young Chief Joseph.

A tall, commanding, splendid-looking Indian he had grown to be, atforty years of age. He was every inch a chief, and had a noble face.

His people were the Lower Nez Percés, who lived in the beautifulWallowa Valley—their Valley of the Winding Waters, in northeasternOregon. Here they raised many horses, and hunted, but put in fewcrops. Old Chief Joseph had believed that the earth should not bedisturbed; the people should eat only what it produced of itself. Theearth was their mother.

He believed also that nobody owned any part of the earth. The earthhad been given to all, by the Great Creator. Everybody had a right touse what was needed.

Twenty years ago, or in 1855, Old Chief Joseph had signed a paper, bywhich the United States agreed to let the Pierced Noses alone on theirwide lands of western Idaho, and eastern Oregon and Washington.

But it was seen that the Pierced Noses did not cultivate the betterportion of this country; the white men wanted to plough the Valley ofWinding Waters; and eight years later another treaty was made, whichcut out the Winding Waters. It narrowed the Nez Percés to the Lapwaireservation in Idaho.

Old Chief Joseph did not sign this treaty. Other chiefs signed, forthe Nez Percés. The United States thought that this was enough, as itconsidered the Pierced Noses to be one nation. The Valley of theWinding Waters was said to be open to white settlers.

The Old Chief Joseph Pierced Noses continued to live there, just thesame. They asserted that they had never given it up, and that theUpper Pierced Noses had no right to speak for the Lower Pierced Noses.

As Young Chief Joseph afterwards explained:

"Suppose a white man comes to me and says: 'Joseph, I like your horsesand I want to buy them.' I say to him: 'No; my horses suit me; I willnot sell them.' Then he goes to my neighbor, and says to him: 'Josephhas some good horses. I want them, but he refuses to sell.' Myneighbor answers: 'Pay me the money and I will sell you Joseph'shorses.' The white man returns to me and says: 'Joseph, I have boughtyour horses and you must let me have them.' That is the way our landswere bought."

When Old Joseph died, Young Joseph held his hand and listened to hiswords:

My son, my body is returning to my mother earth, and my spirit is goingvery soon to see the Great Spirit Chief. When I am gone, think of yourcountry. You are the chief of these people. They look to you to guidethem. Always remember that your father never sold his country. Youmust stop your ears whenever you are asked to sign a treaty sellingyour home. A few years more, and white men will be all around you.They have their eyes on this land. My son, never forget my dyingwords. This country holds your father's body. Never sell the bones ofyour father and your mother.

Young Joseph promised.

"A man who would not love his father's grave is worse than a wildanimal," he said.

After that he was careful never to accept any presents from the UnitedStates.

Even before the treaty of 1863 which was supposed to cover the WindingWaters valley, the white men had invaded the Pierced Nose country.Gold had been discovered in Idaho. In 1861 the white man's town ofLewiston had been laid out, among the Nez Percés—and there it was,without permission.

The Black Hills were being taken from the Sioux, in the same way.

Now trouble occurred between the Indians and the whites in the Valleyof the Winding Waters, also. The Government started in to buy thesettlers' claims, so that the Pierced Noses might remain undisturbed,but Congress did not appropriate the money.

In order to force the Indians off, the settlers stole their horses, andtheir cattle; Indians were whipped, and killed. Chief Joseph's brotherwas killed. The murderer was not brought to trial, because Josephwould not allow his people to appear in court.

"I have decided to let him escape and enjoy life," said Joseph. "Iwill not take his life for the one he took. I do not want anything inpayment for what he did. I pronounce the sentence that he shall live."

All that the Nez Percés asked, was that the white men get out.

Among the Indians of this Columbia River region there had sprung up aprophet, as in the days of Tec*mseh. His name was Smo-hal-la. Hepreached the doctrine that the land belonged to the Indians, and thatthe red man was the real child of the Great Spirit. A day was nearing,when the Great Spirit would repeople the earth with Indians, and thewhite race would be driven out. In the meantime the red men must livein their own way, and have nothing to do with the white men. They mustnot dig into the body of their "mother," the earth.

The followers of Smohalla were called Dreamers. Chief Joseph was amember of the Dreamers: so were many of his band.

As the Chief Joseph people would not come in upon the Lapwaireservation, and the missionaries and Indian agent and soldiers couldnot persuade them, General Oliver O. Howard, who commanded the MilitaryDepartment of the Columbia, met in council with them, at Fort Lapwai,in April and May, 1876.

General Howard was a brave soldier who had lost his right arm in thebattle of Fair Oaks, during the Civil War. He was a kind, just man,one whom the Apaches and other tribes greatly trusted; but he could dolittle with the stubborn Pierced Noses.

They usually dressed like white people. When they came to the councilthey were painted, and wore buckskins and blankets, according to thecustom of the Dreamers.

Chief Joseph finally appeared. His younger brother, Ollicut, whom hedearly loved, was here. So were Hush-hush-cute, chief of the Palousetribe who mingled with the Pierced Noses in friendship; and Sub-ChiefsLooking Glass and White Bird; and old Too-hul-hul-so-te, a Too-at, orDrummer Dreamer chief.

In the principal councils Too-hul-hul-so-te was the most out-spoken,for the Pierced Noses. Chief Joseph and Ollicut his brother were morequiet. But General Howard and Toohulhulsote had several tilts.

The white chiefs stated that the Nez Percés were to go upon the Lapwaireservation; then they would be given the privilege of hunting andfishing in the Winding Waters country.

"The earth is our mother. When the earth was made, there were no marksor lines placed upon it," grunted the surly, broad-shoulderedToohulhulsote. "The earth yields enough, of itself. It is not to bedisturbed by ploughs. It is not to be bought or sold. It carries itsown chieftain-ship. Nobody can sell possession of it. We never havemade any trade. Part of the Indians gave up their land. We never did.The Great Spirit made the earth as it is, and as he wanted it, and hemade a part of it for us to live upon. I don't see where you get theright to say we shall not live where he placed us."

"You have said twenty times that the earth is your mother," repliedGeneral Howard, growing angry. "Let us hear no more about it, but cometo business."

"Who are you, that you ask us to talk and then tell me I sha'n't talk?"retorted the saucy old Toohulhulsote. "Are you the Great Spirit? Didyou make the world? Did you make the sun? Did you make the rivers torun for us to drink? Did you make the grass to grow? Did you make allthese things, that you talk to us as though we were boys? If you did,then you have the right to talk as you do."

"But," argued General Howard, "you know very well that the Governmenthas fixed a reservation and that the Indian must go upon it."

"What person pretends to divide the land and put me on it?" growled oldToohulhulsote.

"I am the man," General Howard answered. "I stand here for thePresident."

"The Indians may do as they like, but I am not going on thereservation," announced Toohulhulsote.

His words were causing much excitement and bad feeling, and GeneralHoward ordered him arrested. The young men murmured among themselves,and would have begun war at once by rescuing him; but Chief Josephspoke to them and quieted them.

Toohulhulsote was kept locked up for five days. Meanwhile Chief Josephhad resolved to permit no war.

"I said in my heart," related Joseph, "that rather than have war Iwould give up my country. I would rather give up my father's grave. Iwould give up everything, rather than have the blood of white men onthe hands of my people."

Thirty days was named as the time within which he must gather hispeople and goods and remove to the reservation. He counseled everybodyto obey. When Toohulhulsote came home he urged the Nez Percés men tofight, and not be driven like dogs from the land where they were born;but Joseph stood with a strong heart.

The time seemed too short for moving so many families, their horses andcattle. Still, he worked hard, and all was going smoothly, whenwithout warning some bad white men raided the gathered cattle, andkilled one of the herders.

This aroused the young men, again. A grand council of the PiercedNoses met, and talked war and peace both. Chief Joseph talked peace.He was very anxious to get his people into the reservation before morekillings took place. The thirty days were almost up.

Then, on the very last day, or June 13, his young men broke away fromhim. There was one, whose father had been killed by the settlers.There were the young man's father's relatives. There were two Indianswho had been whipped.

The young man rode away from the council, vowing war. He and hisfriends went out; they killed the white murderer, and others; they cameback and shouted to the council:

"Why do you sit here like women? The war has already begun."

So it had. Joseph and Ollicut were not here, but Chief White Birdhastened about, crying:

"All must join now. There is blood. You will be punished if you stayback."

More went out. The man who had whipped the two Indians was killed. Adozen of the settlers were killed. Chief Joseph found that war hadbeen declared; plenty of ammunition had been collected without hisknowing it; there was no use in any peace talk now.

He tried to make his people agree not to injure more settlers. Then hemoved the camp to White Bird Canyon, at the Salmon River in Idaho justacross from the northeast corner of Oregon.

They did not have long to wait. General Howard at once sent two troopsof the First Cavalry against him. Troop F was commanded by CaptainDavid Perry, and First Lieutenant Edward Russell Theller of theTwenty-first Infantry; Troop H was commanded by Captain J. G. Trimbleand First Lieutenant William B. Parnell. The two troops numberedninety men. Ten settlers joined them, so that the whole number was onehundred.

Chief Joseph and Chief White Bird his assistant had sixty warriors. Atdawn of June 17 Ollicut, through a spy-glass, saw the soldiers enteringthe narrow canyon.

Ollicut and White Bird wished to cross over the Salmon River with thewomen and children, and fight from the other side.

"No, we will fight them here," said Joseph.

He had never fought a battle. The soldiers and settlers did not expecthim to do much; he himself did not know what he could do; but he was aborn general, he had watched the white soldiers drill, and, as heexplained: "The Great Spirit puts it into the heart and head of man toknow how to defend himself."

Now he stowed the women and children in a safe place, and posted hiswarriors. White Bird commanded the right flank; he, the left. Hecleverly seized upon the high ground on the broken sides of the canyon.

The soldiers rode in, by column of twos, until at the wide spot theychanged to column of fours. Chief Joseph's men suddenly fired.Captain Perry used all his military skill, but in short order he wasthoroughly defeated.

Joseph missed not a point. No white man could have done better. Hethreatened the right flank—Captain Perry hastened men to strengthen itand then White Bird turned the left flank. The volunteers ran away,Chief Joseph grabbed the best position; now he had the soldiers underhis thumb, and they retreated helter-skelter.

He cut off the rear guard, and every one in it was killed fighting.Captain Perry had worked hard to rally his men. No use. The ChiefJoseph men pressed furiously.

The actual battle had occupied only a few minutes. The soldiers lostLieutenant Theller and thirty-two men shot dead, out of the ninety;seven were wounded. The volunteers lost four men. The Pierced Nosesdid not try to take any scalps.

Chief Joseph's warriors pursued for twelve miles, and quit. During thebattle his wife was presented by the Great Spirit with a littledaughter. So now he had a baby to look out for.

Captain Perry was much mortified by the easy victory over him. ThePierced Noses of Joseph and White Bird rejoiced. They had done betterthan they had expected. The soldiers had proved to be not very great.

Joseph had planned to take his people only beyond the Bitter RootMountains of northeastern Idaho, by the Pierced Noses'Road-to-the-buffalo, and stay in the Powder River country of Montanauntil he might come to terms with the United States. He was willing torisk the Sioux.

But General Howard did not sleep. He summoned troops from all his widedepartment of the Columbia. The telegraph carried the word intoCalifornia, and down into Arizona.

When he had two hundred soldiers he led them, himself. Chief Josephferried his women and children over the roaring Salmon River on skinrafts towed by swimming ponies, and put the river between him andGeneral Howard.

General Howard viewed the position, and was puzzled. His rival generalwas a genius in defense. He crossed the river, to the attack. ChiefJoseph dodged him, crossed the river farther north, and circlingsouthward cut his trail and his communications with Fort Lapwai; fellupon Captain S. G. Whipple's First Cavalry, which was in hispath—surrounded it, wiped out Lieutenant Sevier Rains and tencavalrymen, scattered the reinforcements, and passed on, for theRoad-to-the-buffalo.

General Howard heard that he had been side-stepped, and that the NezPercés were beyond his lines. With almost six hundred men, twofield-pieces and a Gatling gun he followed at best speed. The "treaty"or friendly Pierced Noses aided him; so did the Bannock Indians.

Chief Joseph had been joined by his friend Chief Looking Glass. Now hehad two hundred and fifty warriors—also four hundred and fifty womenand children, two thousand horses, as many cattle, and much lodgebaggage. In all the history of wars, no general carried a greaterburden.

On July 11 he turned at the banks of the south Clearwater, in northernIdaho, to give battle again. He had thrown up dirt entrenchments, andwas waiting for General Howard's infantry, cavalry, artillery andscouts.

General Howard formed line. He had graduated with honors at West Pointin 1854, and had won high rank in the Civil War. But Joseph wellnighdefeated him—nearly captured his supply train, did capture a springand keep him from the drinking water; and had it not been forreinforcements coming in and creating two attacks at once on thePierced Noses' position, he would have made General Howard retire.

The battle lasted two days. It was really a victory for Chief Joseph.

"I do not think that I had to exercise more thorough generalship duringthe Civil War," General Howard confessed.

Chief Joseph withdrew his people in good order. General Howard indesperation sent the cavalry, under Chief-of-Staff E. C. Mason, to findthe Pierced Noses and hold them. Colonel Mason did not find them—theyfound him, and he was very glad to return in haste to General Howard.

The Joseph people were now safely in the Lo-lo Trail, or theRoad-to-the-buffalo, that wound up the Bitter Root Range, and down onthe other side. On this trail the two captains Lewis and Clark hadalmost perished. What with the great forest trees fallen crisscross,the dense brush and the sharp tumbled rocks, no trail could be rougher.

Over and under and through the trees and rocks Chief Joseph forced hiswomen and children, his ponies and cattle and baggage. Behind him heleft blood and disabled horses and cows. One hundred and fifty milesbehind him he left the toiling, panting soldiers, whose forty axe-menwere constantly at work clearing a passage for the artillery and thepacks.

Even at that, the soldiers marched sixteen miles a day; but the PiercedNoses marched faster.

The telegraph was swifter still. Fort Missoula, at the east end of thetrail, had been notified. Captain C. C. Rawn of the Seventh Infantryhastily fortified the pass down, with fifty regulars and one hundredvolunteers. Chief Joseph side-stepped him also, left him waiting, andby new trails turned south down the Bitter Root Valley on the east sideof the mountains! The Bitter Root Valley was well settled. ThePierced Noses molested no ranches or towns. They traded, as they went,for supplies.

Colonel John Gibbon, who had campaigned against Sitting Bull, now tookup the chase. Chief Joseph did not know about Colonel Gibbon's troops,and made camp on the Big Hole River, near the border in south-westernMontana. He was preparing lodge-poles, to take to the buffalo country.

Here, at dawn of August 9, Colonel Gibbon with two hundred regulars andvolunteers surprised him completely. A storm of bullets swept hislodges, before his people were astir. Everybody dived for safety.

Some of the warriors left their guns. The white soldiers charged intothe camp. All was confusion; all was death—but the warriors rallied.

In twenty minutes the white soldiers were destroying the camp withfire. In an hour they were fighting for their lives. The PiercedNoses had not fled, as Indians usually fled in a surprise; they hadstayed, had surrounded the camp place, and were riddling the soldiers'lines.

The squaws and boys helped. On the other side, Colonel Gibbon himselfused a rifle. He ordered his troops into the timber. The Chief Josephpeople rushed into their camp, packed up under hot fire, and bundledthe women and children and loose horses to safety. The warriorsremained.

The soldiers threw up entrenchments. Colonel Gibbon was wounded. TheIndians captured his field-piece, and a pack mule loaded with twothousand rounds of rifle ammunition. They disabled the cannon anddrove off the mule. They fired the grass, and only a change of windsaved the soldiers from being driven into the open.

All that day and the next day the battle lasted. At dusk of August 9Colonel Gibbon had sent out couriers, with call for reinforcements."Hope you will hurry to our relief," he appealed, to General Howard.Couriers rode to the Montana forts, also. The whole country was beingstirred. Even Arizona was getting troops ready.

This night of August 10 Chief Joseph learned from one of his scouts whohad been posted on the back trail, that General Howard was hurrying tothe rescue. So he withdrew his people again, to make another march.

He had lost heavily. Eighty men, women and children were dead. Out ofone hundred and ninety men in the battle of the Big Hole, ColonelGibbon had lost sixty-nine in killed and wounded, including sixofficers.

But the white men could easily get more soldiers; Chief Joseph couldget no more warriors. He decided to join with Sitting Bull's Sioux, inCanada.

Canada was a long way; maybe a thousand miles. General Howard andColonel Gibbon pursued. Joseph crossed the mountains again, into thesouthward. He veered east for the Yellowstone National Park. On theroad he found two hundred and fifty fresh ponies. General Howard sentLieutenant G. B. Bacon with cavalry to cut in front of him and defend apass; and camped, himself, for a short rest, on the Camas Meadows, oneday's march behind the enemy.

Chief Joseph turned on him, deceived his sentries with a column offours that looked like Lieutenant Bacon's men coming back, and ran offall of General Howard's pack mules.

"I got tired of General Howard, and wanted to put him afoot," saidChief Joseph.

And he almost did it; for had not the cavalry horses been picketedclose in, they would have been stampeded, too.

General Howard had to wait for mules from Virginia City. LieutenantBacon wearied of watching the pass; left it—and Chief Joseph marchedthrough, into the Yellowstone Park.

Now Colonel Miles, at Fort Keogh, far in the east, had been notified.He sent out Colonel S. D. Sturgis and six companies of the fightingSeventh Cavalry, with Crow scouts, to head Joseph off.

Colonel Sturgis made fast time to the southwest. But Chief Josephfooled him; pretended to go in one direction and took another, leavingthe Seventh Cavalry forty miles at one side.

Colonel Sturgis obtained fresh horses from General Howard, and startedin chase. On September 17 he came up with Chief Joseph's rear guard,captured several hundred ponies and sent back word to General Howardthat there was to be a decisive battle.

General Howard hurried. He marched all night. When he got to thebattle-field he found only the Seventh Cavalry there, with three killedand eleven wounded, and everybody exhausted. Chief Joseph was marchingon, north, in a great half circle. Somebody else must head him off.

General Howard sent a dispatch to Colonel Miles.

"The Nez Percés have left us hopelessly in the rear. Will you takeaction to intercept them?"

From Fort Keogh on the Yellowstone, one hundred and fifty mileseastward, Colonel Miles sallied out. It was a relay race by the whitechiefs. He took four mounted companies of the Fifth Infantry, threecompanies of the Seventh Cavalry, three companies of the SecondCavalry, thirty Cheyenne and Sioux scouts and some white scouts, aHotchkiss machine gun, a twelve-pounder Napoleon field-piece, a longwagon train guarded by infantry, and a pack train of mules.

A steamboat was ordered to ascend the Missouri, and meet the troopswith more supplies. Telegraph, steamboats, trained soldiers,supplies—all the military power of the United States was fightingChief Joseph.

Joseph reached the Missouri River first, at Cow Island. There was afort here, guarding a supply depot. He seized the depot, burned it,and leaving the fort with three of its thirteen men killed, he crossedthe river.

Canada was close at hand. Pretty soon he thought that he had crossedthe line, and in the Bear Paw Mountains he sat down, to rest. He hadmany wounded to care for; his women and children were worn out. He hadmarched about two thousand miles and had fought four big battles.

"I sat down," said Joseph, "in a fat and beautiful country. I had wonmy freedom and the freedom of my people. There were many empty placesin the lodges and in the council, but we were in a land where we wouldnot be forced to live in a place we did not want. I believed that if Icould remain safe at a distance and talk straight to the men sent bythe Great Father, I could get back to the Wallowa Valley and return inpeace. That is why I did not allow my young men to kill and destroythe white settlers after I began to fight. I wanted to leave a cleantrail, and if there were dead soldiers on it I could not be blamed. Ihad sent out runners to find Sitting Bull, to tell him that anotherband of red men had been forced to run from the soldiers, and topropose that we join for defense if attacked. My people wererecovering. I was ready to move on to a permanent camp when, onemorning, Bear Coat and his soldiers came in sight, and stampeded ourhorses. Then I knew that I had made a mistake by not crossing into thecountry of the Red Coats; also in not keeping the country scouted in myrear."

For he was not in Canada. The Canada border lay a day's march ofthirty-five miles northward yet. And he had not known anything aboutColonel Miles, the Bear Coat.

Colonel Miles brought three hundred and seventy-five soldiers, and thecannon. Chief Joseph had already lost almost one hundred of his menand women. But his brother Ollicut, Chief White Bird, and the DrummerDreamer, old Too-hul-hul-so-te, were still with him; and one hundredand seventy-five warriors.

The first charge of the Bear Coat cavalry, early in this morning ofSeptember 30,1877, scattered the camp and cut off the pony herd. ChiefJoseph was separated from his wife and children. He dashed for them,through the soldiers. His horse was wounded, his clothes pierced, buthe got to his lodge.

His wife handed him his gun.

"Take it. Fight!"

And fight he did; his people fought. They dug rifle-pits, the same aswhite soldiers would. There was fighting for four days. The Bear Coatlost one fifth of his officers and men. He settled to a close siege,shooting with his cannon and trying to starve the Pierced Noses. Hewas much afraid that Sitting Bull was coming down, and bringing theSioux. He sent messages to notify General Terry, in the east, andGeneral Howard, in the south.

Chief Joseph's heart ached. His brother Ollicut was dead. OldToohulhulsote was dead. Looking Glass was dead. Twenty-four othershad been killed, and forty-six were wounded. He had over three hundredwomen and children. Of his own family, only his wife and baby wereleft to him. Sitting Bull did not come.

"My people were divided about surrendering," he said. "We could haveescaped from the Bear Paw Mountains if we had left our wounded, oldwomen and children behind. We were unwilling to do this. We had neverheard of a wounded Indian recovering while in the hands of white men.I could not bear to see my wounded men and women suffer any longer."

So he rode out, on the morning of October 5, and surrendered. GeneralHoward had arrived, at the end of his long thirteen-hundred-mile chase,but the surrender was made to Colonel Miles.

Chief Joseph handed over his gun.

"I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass isdead. Toohulhulsote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is theyoung men who say yes or no. He who led the young men is dead. [Thatwas Ollicut.] It is cold and we have no blankets. The little childrenare freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to thehills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where theyare—perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for mychildren and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find themamong the dead."

He raised his hand high, toward the sun.

"Hear me, my chiefs. I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. Fromwhere the sun now stands I will fight no more forever."

White Bird had taken a company and escaped to Canada. Colonel Milespromised Chief Joseph that he would ask to have the surrendered peoplesent back to the Nez Percés' country. Those were the terms. Thesurrendered people numbered eighty-seven men, three hundred andthirty-one women and children.

"Thus," reported General Sheridan, the head of the army, "hasterminated one of the most extraordinary Indian wars of which there isany record. The Indians throughout displayed a courage and skill thatelicited universal praise; they abstained from scalping, let captivewomen go free, did not commit indiscriminate murder of peacefulfamilies, which is usual, and fought with almost scientific skill,using advance and rear guards, skirmish lines and field fortifications."

The Government did not send the Chief Joseph Pierced Noses to their owncountry. It was claimed that White Bird had broken the terms, by hisescape. At any rate, the Joseph people were kept a long, long time inIndian Territory. Many of them sickened and died. They were mountainIndians. They missed their cold streams and their pure air. They fellaway from over four hundred to two hundred and eighty.

Chief Joseph's heart broke utterly. He issued an appeal—his ownstory—which was published in the North American Review magazine, in1879.

"If I cannot go to my own home, let me have a home in some countrywhere my people will not die so fast.... Let me be a free man—free totravel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade, where I choose; freeto choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers,free to think and talk and act for myself—and I will obey every law orsubmit to the penalty."

Not until 1884 was he permitted to return to the mountains of theNorthwest. The majority of his people were located again in Idaho,among their kindred. He himself was placed upon another reservation,near Spokane, Washington.

He pleaded for the Wallowa Valley—his Valley of the Winding Waters;but that had been settled by the white men. All that he found was hisfather's grave. A white man had enclosed it with a picket fence.Chief Joseph wept.

He lived to a good age. In 1903 he visited the East; he talked withPresident Roosevelt and General Miles. He met General Howard. Thenext year he exhibited himself in an Indian show at the St. Louis fair.That hurt his pride. He was ashamed to sell his face for money.

When he went home, he was sick. This September he died, on theWashington reservation. The doctor asserted that he died from a brokenheart.

He was the last of the great chiefs of the American Indians. TheHistorical Society of the State of Washington has erected over hisgrave a noble monument. Under it he lies, while people read his name,translated: "Thunder-rolling-in-the-mountains."

CHAPTER XXVI

THE GHOST DANCERS AND THE RED SOLDIERS (1889-1890)

AND SITTING BULL'S LAST MEDICINE

In 1889 the Sioux, upon their reservations in South Dakota, were muchdissatisfied. Their cattle were dying, their crops had failed, therewere no buffalo, and the Government supplies were not being issuedaccording to promise.

The Sioux no longer occupied the Great Sioux reservation of westernSouth Dakota. By several treaties they had sold the greater portion ofthat land. The last treaty, signed only this year, had left them fivetracts, as reservations.

On the Missouri River at the middle north line of South Dakota therewas the Standing Rock reservation, where lived Sitting Bull and many ofthe Hunkpapas and Oglalas whom he had led.

Next to it, on the south was the Cheyenne River reservation, for theMiniconjous, Without Bows, Two Kettles, and others.

Then there was a wide strip of land which had been sold, with the smallLower Brulé reservation in the east end of it.

Then, side by side against the Nebraska line, south, there were theRosebud reservation, for the other Brulés; and Chief Red Cloud's PineRidge reservation, for his Oglalas, and various bands.

The Sioux numbered twenty-five thousand. The lands left to them werethe poorest of the lands. White men had failed to make a living uponsuch lands. The Sioux were supposed to help themselves by farming andcattle raising, but they found themselves starving.

Sitting Bull had been placed upon the Standing Rock reservation in May,1883. His home was a log cabin with a stable and corral, on the GrandRiver in the southern part of the reservation. He still kept a peacepipe, as sign that he would not go to war.

He had been among those who opposed the selling of the lands. Afterthe last sale, this year, he was asked what the Indians thought aboutit.

"Indians!" he angrily blurted. "There are no Indians left now but me."

He viewed the Sioux police sullenly. These were a fine company offifty young Sioux under First Lieutenant Bull Head and SecondLieutenant Chatka. They were drilled as United States soldiers, worethe army uniform of blue, and were well armed. Their duty was that ofkeeping order for the Indian agent. They were proud of their trust,and faithful to it.

Now in the fall of 1889 the restless Sioux heard a voice. Their youngpeople were being educated at the Indian schools of the East, and atthe agency schools, and were learning to read and write.

The eastern school Indians exchanged letters with Indian friends whomthey had met or of whom they knew; the agency school Indians indifferent parts of the country also wrote letters. Word came byletters from the west, to Sioux at the Pine Ridge agency, that beyondthe Rocky Mountains a man who claimed to be Christ, the Son of God, hadappeared upon earth.

The white people once had tried to kill him by nailing him to a cross.He was back again, to punish them for their treatment of him, and fortheir treatment of the Indians. The Indians were to be his people, andpossess the land. This sounded reasonable.

It aroused curiosity and hope. It was only the same old story, asspread by other prophets, and here put in a little different form; butthe red people of America had never yet ceased to look forward to amiracle that would restore to them their game and their liberty andtheir loved country.

Old Chief Red Cloud, Young-man-whose-horses-are-feared and other headmen of the Pine Ridge reservation called a council, to choose delegateswho should travel into the west and find out if the Arapahos andShoshonis of Wyoming were telling the truth.

Kicking Bear from the Cheyenne River reservation and Short Bull fromthe Rosebud reservation, were the leaders selected. The other men wereGood Thunder, Flat Iron, Yellow Breast, and Broken Arm, from Pine Ridge.

Without permission from their agents they traveled west into Wyoming,to talk with the Arapahos and Shoshonis at the Fort Washakiereservation. Some Cheyenne delegates from the Tongue River reservationin Montana were there also, seeking information.

The Arapahos and Shoshonis said that the word was true. The Messiahhad come; he did not live among them, but was living west of themountains, among the Fish-eaters. A Bannock Indian had brought thenews across to them. They had sent men to see. The men had seen theMessiah, and had talked with him. They had seen the dances that he hadordered, which would waken the dead to life and populate the earthagain with Indians.

Porcupine and his Cheyennes, and Kicking Bear and Short Bull and theirSioux were much impressed. They decided to go on, and see forthemselves. So they did. They got on the train at Rawlins, Wyoming,and rode all day and branched off by another train, and rode stillfarther, and arrived at Fort Hall of Idaho, in the Bannock country.

From here the Bannocks guided them onward, by train and by wagon, untilat last they reached the country of the Fish-eaters, or Pai-Utes, atPyramid Lake in western Nevada!

The Pyramid Lake Fish-eaters sent them south, to Walker Lake of thePai-Utes. Here they met the Christ, listened to his talk, danced thesacred dances, and felt that everything was true.

Kicking Bear and Short Bull and their Sioux were absent from the Siouxreservations all winter. They sent back letters from Wyoming, Utah,Idaho and Nevada, telling of their progress. In April, of 1890, theyreturned.

They reported to the council. They had seen the Messiah. Delegatesfrom many other tribes had been there, too. The Messiah talked to eachtribe in its own language. He bore the scars of nails, on his wrists.He looked like an Indian, only lighter in color. He taught them dancescalled Ghost Dances, which would bring the spirit people back uponearth. He fell into a sleep, and went to heaven and saw all the spiritIndians. The earth was too old; it was to be made new and would staygreen and new, and the Indians who obeyed his teachings and lived goodwould never be more than forty years old, themselves. This fall allthe good people were to be made young; and after that they would bemade young every spring. Anyone who had shaken hands with the Messiahcould call him in sleep.

The Sioux delegates told their story over and over again. At theCheyenne reservation in Montana, Porcupine talked for five days andfour nights.

There was indeed a Pai-Ute prophet, named Wo-vo-ka or the Cutter. Helater took the name Kwo-hit-sauq, or Big Rumbling Belly. To the whitepeople he was known as Jack Wilson. He had worked on ranches near theWalker Lake reservation, until, when he was about thirty years old,while sick with a fever he went into a trance, during an eclipse of thesun.

On waking up, he said that he had been to heaven, had visited God andthe spirits, and had received command to preach a new gospel.

The Pai-Utes were glad to believe whatever he claimed for himself. Heseemed to hypnotize them. The word that Wo-vo-ka was the Messiah andcould perform miracles spread through the Pai-Utes of Nevada and theUtes of Utah; it crossed the Sierra Nevada Mountains into California onthe west, and the Rocky Mountains into Wyoming on the east; and it keptgoing, east and north and south.

This spring Good Thunder, Short Bull, Cloud Horse and Yellow Knifejourneyed to see the Messiah again.

When they came back they reported that he had appeared to them out ofsome smoke. He welcomed them, and showed them a land that bridged theocean, and upon the land all the Indians of all nations were on theirway home again.

They saw lodges, of buffalo hides, in which the dead were living. Theytalked with dead Sioux whom they had known.

The Messiah had given them red and white paint, that would ward offsickness, renew youth, and cause visions. He had told them to have theSioux send their children to school, and to attend to farming. Therewas to be no fighting with the white people. But the whites were to bedestroyed, by a great landslide that would cover the world with newearth. Upon the new earth would roam the buffalo and deer, as of old.The Indians who obeyed the Messiah would be lifted up, above thelandslide, and gently dropped back again, there to live forever withall their friends and relatives who had come with it from spirit land.

This reunion was to occur the next spring, of 1891, when the grass wasknee high.

The Good Thunder party brought what they said was a piece of buffalomeat. The Messiah had told them that if on their way home they killedany buffalo, they were to leave the hoofs and tail and head on theprairie, and the buffalo would spring up, whole, when they turned theirbacks.

All the buffalo would act this way, in the happy time to come.

The day of buffalo herds on the plains was past; but the party assertedthat they did find a herd, and killed one buffalo—and he sprang up,from the hoofs and tail and head, just as the Messiah had promised.

The Cheyennes, the Shoshonis, the Arapahos, the Kiowas, the Utes, thePai-Utes, were dancing the Ghost Dance. The Sioux now danced.

The Ghost Dancers danced in a circle, holding hands and chanting, untilthey fell over and went to spirit land. From the spirits they broughtback signs, such as buffalo tails, buffalo meat, and other things of anIndian country.

The Sioux Ghost Dancers wore Ghost shirts, of white muslin. TheseGhost shirts would turn a bullet: no enemy weapon could pierce a Ghostshirt! That was the word of Kicking Bear and Short Bull.

The Ghost Dance ceremonies were many, and the dance was noisy.

Away up on the Standing Rock reservation, which had not yet joined inthe craze, Sitting Bull, the former great medicine leader of the Sioux,was much interested. The agent, Mr. James McLaughlin, refused topermit him to visit Kicking Bear, the prophet on the Cheyenne Riverreservation, south. Kicking Bear was hard at it, preaching the Messiahreligion to his Miniconjous and the other Sioux there.

But Sitting Bull was anxious to learn. So he sent six of his young mendown, to ask Kicking Bear to come up for a visit at the Grand River inthe Standing Rock reservation.

Kicking Bear appeared, in October, this 1890, with several of hisfollowers, and preached to the Sitting Bull people.

"My brothers, I bring to you the promise of a day in which there willbe no white man to lay his hand on the bridle of the Indian's horse;when the red men of the prairie will rule the world, and not be turnedfrom the hunting grounds by any man. I bring you word from yourfathers the ghosts, that they are now marching to join you, led by theMessiah who came once on earth with the white men, but was cast out andkilled by them. I have seen the wonders of the spirit land, and havetalked with the ghosts. I traveled far, and am sent back with amessage to tell you to make ready for the coming of the Messiah andreturn of the ghosts in the spring."

This was the commencement of Kicking Bear's sermon, as reported toAgent McLaughlin by One Bull, an Indian policeman who was SittingBull's nephew.

Kicking Bear spoke for a long time. He told Sitting Bull everything.The new earth, that would bury the whites, was to be five times theheight of a man. It would be covered with sweet grass, and with herdsof buffalo and ponies. The Pacific Ocean would be filled up; the otheroceans would be barricaded. The white man's powder would not burn,against the Ghost Dancers. The whites who died would all belong to theEvil Spirit. Only the Indians would enjoy life, under the Good Spirit,with no white people to molest them.

To the unhappy, starving Sioux this was a promise full of hope.Sitting Bull at once took the lead at Standing Rock. He dancedhimself, reported Agent McLaughlin, "to mere skin and bone." Heintroduced new wrinkles of his own.

Down at Pine Ridge reservation old Red Cloud had adopted the newbelief. On the Rosebud reservation Short Bull, who also "had seen theMessiah," was making the Brulés defiant. Now at Standing Rock SittingBull had the fever, and was tireless.

Kicking Bear proved to be a nuisance. The Sioux feared him. It wassaid that in the dark there was a halo around his head, and a star overhim; that he had the power to strike unbelievers dead, with a look, orchange them into dogs.

Agent McLaughlin sent thirteen police under Sergeant Crazy Walking, toarrest Kicking Bear and put him off the reservation.

Crazy Walking went, and found Kicking Bear and Sitting Bull in themidst of a Ghost Dancer meeting. He listened to the stories, and wasafraid of the medicine. He returned to the agency, and said thatSitting Bull had promised that Kicking Bear should leave, the next day.

Agent McLaughlin called Second Lieutenant Chatka. Lieutenant Chatkahad good sense. He was a soldier and did not put much faith in such"medicine." He asked for only two men, and rode straight to SittingBull's camp, on the Grand River, forty miles south of the Agencyquarters.

The Sioux there were dancing—which made no difference to LieutenantChatka, although some of them were his relatives. He broke through thecircle, told Kicking Bear and his Cheyenne River reservation squad thatthey must get out; and escorted them twenty-five miles south, to theline between the two reservations.

Thus Lieutenant Chatka proved himself to be a faithful officer.

This night Sitting Bull snapped his peace pipe in two, before his GhostDancers. His heart had swelled within him.

"Why did you break your pipe, Sitting Bull?"

He replied hotly:

"Because I want to fight, and I want to die, if need be, for this newreligion."

He declared that the dancing must continue. The spirits had said thatthe Sioux must dance or they would lose their lives.

Four hundred and fifty of the Standing Rock Indians were his devotedfollowers. It was he who translated the messages received for themfrom the spirit world. It was he who anointed them, after the sweatbaths, with the sacred oil. It was he who urged them to dance untilthey dropped at the wave of his sacred feather. He was all-powerful,again.

First Lieutenant Bull Head, of the Sioux police, lived three miles westof him, up river, and was watching him. Sitting Bull did not like tobe watched. The police irritated him.

The constant dancing, day and night, on the reservations, alarmed thewhite officials. It was a threat, like the threat of Tec*mseh and theOpen Door.

Down at Pine Ridge, Short Bull, the Messiah's prophet there, announced:

"My friends and relations: I will soon start this thing in runningorder. I have told you that this would come to pass in two seasons,but since the whites are interfering so much, I will advance the timefrom what my father has told me to do, so the time will be shorter.Therefore you must not be afraid of anything. Some of my relationshave no ears, so I will have them blown away."

He told them all to gather in one place and dance and make ready. Evenif the soldiers surrounded them four deep, no harm would occur.

At last, on request of the agents at Pine Ridge and Rosebud the troopsentered, to keep order. Short Bull, Kicking Bear and other prophets ofthe Messiah led their people into the Bad Lands, in the northwestcorner of the Pine Ridge reservation, there to await the promised time.

They had destroyed their houses, and the houses in their path. Many ofthe Sioux who had not danced went with them, or joined them, because offear of the soldiers. They feared being arrested and held as hostages.Soon there were three thousand of the Sioux in the Bad Lands.

This left Sitting Bull and his dancers alone, up at Standing Rock, withthe police watching them. He felt that he ought to go to the GhostDance big camp, in the Bad Lands. And he decided that he would.

Agent McLaughlin had asked him to come to the agency for a talk; butSitting Bull well knew that if he did go to the agency, he probablywould be arrested. So he declined.

Next, Agent McLaughlin arrived, in person, and roundly scolded him forencouraging the "foolish" dancing.

Sitting Bull proposed to Agent McLaughlin that they journey togetherinto the west; and that if they could find no Indians there who hadseen the Messiah, he would tell his people that it all was a lie.

But Agent McLaughlin refused to do this, although it seemed to be afair proposition. When he rode away, the Ghost Dancers threatened him;but Sitting Bull would permit no violence. He had been bathing, andwore only his breech-clout. He stood almost naked in the cold, andkept his people from attacking, until the agent was out of sight.

Sitting Bull prepared to join the other Ghost Dancers, who would beexpecting him. His horses had been doing nothing. They were well fedand strong, and if he got a head start, he knew that he could keep it.So, to show that his heart was not all bad, he had his son-in-law, whocould write a little in English, write a note to Agent McLaughlin.

Bull Ghost, who was called "One-eyed Riley" by the white people, andwho was his chief assistant in medicine making, took the note to theagency. This was December 13. The note said, as far as AgentMcLaughlin could read it, that Sitting Bull had decided to go to PineRidge, in order to know more about the prayers. He did not like to becalled a fool, and to have his prayers interrupted by gun and knife.

Lieutenant Bull Head was as smart as he. The lieutenant knew exactlywhat was in Sitting Bull's mind; and he, too, sent a note to AgentMcLaughlin, saying that if Sitting Bull got away on his fresh ponies,the police would not be able to catch him. The arrest ought to be madeat once.

The troops already had been directed to arrest Sitting Bull. "BuffaloBill" Cody, the famous scout, had arrived, to manage the arrest by helpof the soldiers. But Agent McLaughlin warned that if the soldiers wentdown, there surely would be a fight, and many persons would be killed.He was certain that his Indian police could do the work with lesstrouble. By return courier, who was Second Sergeant Red Tomahawk, thisevening of December 14 he sent orders in English and in Sioux, toLieutenant Bull Head, that Sitting Bull should be arrested the firstthing in the morning, and must not be permitted to escape.

Sergeant Red Tomahawk rode the forty miles in the dark, over a roughtrail, in four hours and a quarter.

Other couriers were dispatched, to take orders to the police squadsstationed elsewhere. Lieutenant Bull Head was to have thirty-eightregular police and four specials, with First Sergeant Shave Head as hisassistant.

Two troops of the Eighth Cavalry under Captain E. G. Fechet were to bestationed on the trail part way to Sitting Bull's camp, in readiness tosupport Lieutenant Bull Head, if necessary.

The Ghost Dancers had been guarding Sitting Bull's house, for severalnights; but this night of December 14 they had danced until they weretired out.

When before sunrise in the morning Lieutenant Bull Head led his troopsinto the camp, few persons were stirring. Before the camp, whichextended several miles along the Grand River, could pass the word thatthe police were there, Lieutenant Bull Head had rapidly thrown a lineof dismounted police around the houses of Sitting Bull.

There were two log cabins, one larger than the other. The police didnot know in which cabin Sitting Bull would be found. Lieutenant BullHead ordered eight policemen to enter the smaller cabin; he and FirstSergeant Shave Head and ten other policemen entered the larger cabin.

Sitting Bull was here, asleep on the floor, with his two wives and hisson Crow Foot, seventeen years old.

His wives saw the police standing over them, and began to cry. SittingBull sat up.

"What is wanted?" he asked, but he knew very well.

Lieutenant Bull Head briefly told him.

"You are under arrest, and must go to the agency."

"Very well," answered Sitting Bull, calmly. "I will dress and go withyou."

"Bring me my best clothes," he said to his wives. "And I shall want mybest horse—the gray horse."

His clothes were brought. Sergeant Shave Head ordered one of thepolicemen to saddle the gray horse and have it at the door.

While he dressed, Sitting Bull began to complain, and to scold thepolice for arresting him, who was a Sioux and an old man, when theywere Sioux, themselves. But Lieutenant Bull Head said nothing. He washere to do his duty.

He placed himself upon one side of Sitting Bull; First Sergeant ShaveHead took the other side, Second Sergeant Red Tomahawk closed inbehind; and they all went out.

Now trouble awaited them. One hundred and fifty angry Ghost Dancershad gathered. They were armed, they were yelling threats, they werejostling the line of police and shoving them about. The stanch policewere holding firm, and keeping the space before the door cleared. Atthe same time they argued with their friends and relatives andacquaintances in the crowd, telling them to be careful and not causeblood-shed.

Sitting Bull's gray horse was standing in the cleared space. Hestarted for it, as if to go with the police, when young Crow Foot, hisson, taunted him.

"You call yourself a brave man. You said you would never surrender toa blue-coat, and now you give up to Indians in blue clothes!"

That stung Sitting Bull. He resisted. He began to speak rapidly tohis Ghost Dancers.

"These police are taking me away. You are more than they. You haveguns in your hands. Are you going to let them take me away? All youhave to do is to kill these men on either side of me. The rest willrun. Our brothers are waiting for us in the Bad Lands, before theymake the whites die. When the whites die, only the Indians will beleft. But the whites mean to try to kill us all first." Suddenly heshook an arm free, and raised it. "Shoot!" he cried. "Kill thepolice. They are none of us!"

Two of the Ghost Dancers, Catch-the-bear and Strikes-the-kettle, sprangthrough the line of police, and fired.

Catch-the-bear's bullet struck Lieutenant Bull Head in the side.Strikes-the-kettle's bullet struck Sergeant Shave Head in the stomach.Private Lone Man shot and killed Catch-the-bear. With his revolverLieutenant Bull Head instantly shot Sitting Bull through the body. RedTomahawk shot him through the head. Then, down together, fell SittingBull, Bull Head and Shave Head.

Now it was a big fight, of the forty-one police against almost twohundred Ghost Dancers. Lieutenant Bull Head and First Sergeant ShaveHead were mortally sick from their wounds; Second Sergeant Red Tomahawktook the command.

The fighting at first was hand to hand, with clubbed guns and knives.The squaws helped the Ghost Dance men.

"Do not hurt the women and children," shouted Red Tomahawk. And asfast as possible the women were grabbed and hustled into the smallcabin.

The police were trained soldiers, and used their revolvers freely,although not trying to kill. They drove the Ghost Dancers into thetimber along the river south of the Sitting Bull place.

"I will run and tell the soldiers," cried Hawk Man No. 1.

"Bun!" panted Red Tomahawk, to Hawk Man No. 1. "Tell the soldiers."

And Hawk Man No. 1 did run, like a deer, through the storm of bullets.His uniform was cut, but he was unharmed. He ran eight or ten miles.

Bull Head and Shave Head were disabled. Fourth Sergeant Little Eagle,Private Afraid-of-soldiers, were lying dead; Special Policeman Hawk ManNo. 2 and John Armstrong were nearly dead; Private Middle was bleedingbadly.

Sitting Bull was stone dead. So was young Crow Foot; so were GhostDancers Catch-the-bear, Blackbird, Little Assiniboin, Chief SpottedHorn Bull; Chief Brave Thunder and Chase, another Dancer, were fatallywounded.

The fight had lasted only a few minutes. Now the Red Tomahawk mencarried their dead and wounded into the Sitting Bull large cabin, tostand off the Ghost Dancers until the soldiers came.

They occupied the corral, too, and kept the Ghost Dancers from gettingthe ponies that had been put there in readiness for fleeing to the BadLands.

For two hours they held their own, against the raging mob, because theyhad been sworn into the service of the United States Government. Butthey did not shoot to kill, except in defense of their own lives. Theywere Sioux, and had relatives and old-time friends among those peopleoutside.

When the cavalry galloped into sight, over the hill beyond, RedTomahawk raised a white flag, as a signal. But the soldiers either didnot see, or else thought it was a trick; for they brought a cannon andfired two shells at the cabin.

So Red Tomahawk ordered his men out of the cabin, and mounted them inline upon their horses. Then he took the white flag and rode forwardalone, until the soldiers saw who he was, and that the men behind himwere the loyal police.

The fighting Ghost Dancers ran away. Captain Fechet did not pursuethem far. He sent word to them that they had better come back, andthey would not be harmed. Sitting Bull was dead, and their religionhad not protected them from bullets.

Many did come back, cured of their craze. Only a few joined the BadLands Ghost Dancers.

When the news of the death of Sitting Bull, by bullets, was carriedinto the Bad Lands, and several leaders on the reservation hadsurrendered, the Indians in the Bad Lands broke camp, to return totheir reservations. But some clung to their Ghost shirts. Theirhearts were set upon the promises of the Messiah.

When they were gathered near Wounded Knee Creek, on the Pine Ridgereservation, and the soldiers were about to disarm them, on the morningof December 29 Yellow Bear, one of the medicine prophets, suddenlycalled upon them to resist—now was the hour—their Ghost shirts wouldmake the soldiers powerless. Young Black Fox, a Ghost Dancer of theCheyenne River reservation, threw up his gun, from under his blanket,and fired at a soldier. All the soldiers fired; the Indians foughtback; the machine guns opened; and in a twinkling two hundred Siouxmen, women and children, and sixty soldiers, were piled, dead orwounded, upon the snowy ground.

This was the battle of Wounded Knee, and was the last of the GhostDancers.

Meanwhile, after the cavalry had rescued the police, Red Tomahawk putthe body of Sitting Bull into a wagon, and with two prisoners took histroop up to the Standing Rock agency, to report.

Little Eagle, Afraid-of-soldiers, John Armstrong and Hawk Man No. 2were dead; Lieutenant Bull Head and First Sergeant Shave Head died inthe hospital several days later. Bull Head had four wounds.

The four dead police were buried in the reservation cemetery on thesecond day, December 17. A company of the Twenty-second Infantry firedthree volleys over their graves, and a great throng of the Sioux werepresent, to mourn. The police had been brave men.

The police troop and the majority of the other Sioux there, asked thatSitting Bull be not buried in this cemetery. His medicine had beenbad. Therefore this same morning he was buried, wrapped in canvas in aneat coffin, in the military cemetery near by. His age was fifty-six.

The white head-board says simply:

SITTING BULL
Died
December 15, 1890

That was his end, on this earth; for, as far as known, he never cameback from spirit land. The pretended Messiah's promises proved false.The white men remained stronger than the ghosts. The Indians seemed tohave no "medicine" to equal the terrible shoot-with-out-loading guns ofthe blue-coat soldiers.

THE END