University of Virginia Library

RED EARTH;
OR,
MOCKA-DOOTA-WIN.

“Good Road” is one of the Dahcotah chiefs—he is fifty
years old and has two wives, but these two have given a deal
of trouble; although the chief probably thinks it of no importance
whether his two wives fight all the time or not,
so that they obey his orders. For what would be a calamity
in domestic life to us, is an every day affair among
the Dahcotahs.

Good Road's village is situated on the banks of the St.
Peter's about seven miles from Fort Snelling. And like
other Indian villages it abounds in variety more than anything
else. In the teepee the farthest from us, right on the
edge of the shore, there are three young men carousing.
One is inclined to go to sleep, but the other two will not let
him; their spirits are raised and excited by what has made
him stupid. Who would suppose they were human beings?
See their bloodshot eyes; hear their fiendish laugh and
horrid yells; probably before the revel is closed, one of the
friends will have buried his knife in the other's heart.

We will pass on to the next teepee. Here we witness a
scene almost as appalling. “Iron Arms,” one of the most
valiant warriors of the band, is stretched in the agonies of

death. Old Spirit Killer, the medicine man, is gesticulating
by his side, and accompanying his motions with the most
horrid noises. But all in vain; the spirit of “Iron Arms,”
the man of strength, is gone. The doctor says that his
medicine was good, but that a prairie dog had entered into
the body of the Dahcotah, and he thought it had been a
mud-hen. Magnanimous doctor! All honor, that you can
allow yourself in error.

While the friends of the dead warrior are rending the air
with their cries, we will find out what is going on in the
next wigwam. What a contrast!

“The Whirlpool” is seated on the ground smoking; gazing
as earnestly at the bright coals as if in them he could
read the future or recall the past; and his young wife,
whose face, now merry, now sad, bright with smiles at one
moment, and lost in thought the next, gained for her the
name of “The Changing Countenance,” is hushing her child
to sleep; but the expression of her features does not change
now—as she looks on her child, a mother's deep and devoted
love is pictured on her face.

In another, “The Dancing Woman” is wrapped in her
blanket pretending to go to sleep. In vain does “The Flying
Cloud” play that monotonous courting tune on the flute.
The maiden would not be his wife if he gave her all the
trinkets in the world. She loves and is going to marry
“Iron Lightning,” who has gone to bring her—what? a
brooch—a new blanket? no, a Chippeway's scalp, that she
may be the most graceful of those who dance around it.
Her mother is mending the mocassins of the old man who
sleeps before the fire.

And we might go round the village and find every

family differently employed. They have no regular hours
for eating or sleeping. In front of the teepees, young men are
lying on the ground, lazily playing checkers, while their
wives and sisters are cutting wood and engaged in laborious
household duties.

I said Good Road had two wives, and I would now observe
that neither of them is younger than himself. But
they are as jealous of each other as if they had just turned
seventeen, and their lord and master were twenty instead
of fifty. Not a day passes that they do not quarrel, and
fight too. They throw at each other whatever is most convenient,
and sticks of wood are always at hand. And then,
the sons of each wife take a part in the battle; they first
fight for their mothers, and then for themselves—so that the
chief must have been reduced to desperation long ago if it
were not for his pipe and his philosophy. Good Road's
second wife has Chippeway blood in her veins. Her mother
was taken prisoner by the Dahcotahs; they adopted her,
and she became the wife of a Dahcotah warrior. She
loved her own people, and those who had adopted her too;
and in course of time her daughter attained the honorable
station of a chief's second wife. Good Road hates the
Chippeways, but he fell in love with one of their descendants,
and married her. She is a good wife, and the white
people have given her the name of “Old Bets.”

Last summer “Old Bets” narrowly escaped with her life.
The Dahcotahs having nothing else to do, were amusing
themselves by recalling all the Chippeways had ever done
to injure them; and those who were too lazy to go out on
a war party, happily recollected that there was Chippeway
blood near them—no farther off than their chief's wigwam;

and eight or ten braves vowed they would make an end of
“Old Bets.” But she heard of their threats, left the village
for a time, and after the Dahcotahs had gotten over
their mania for shedding blood, she returned, and right glad
was Good Road to see her. For she has an open, good
humored countenance; the very reverse of that of the first
wife, whose vinegar aspect would frighten away an army
of small children.

After “Old Bets” returned, Good Road could not conceal
his satisfaction. His wife's trip had evidently improved
her good looks, for the chief thought she was the handsomest
squaw in the village. Her children were always
taunting the sons of the first wife, and so it went on, until
at last Good Road said he would stand it no longer; he told
his oldest wife to go—that he would support her no longer.
And for her children, he told them the prairies were large;
there were deer and other game—in short, he disinherited
them—cut them off with their last meal.

For the discarded wife, life had now but one hope. The
only star that shone in the blackness of her heaven, was
the undefined prospect of seeing her rival's blood flow.
She would greatly have preferred taking her life herself;
and as she left the wigwam of the chief, she grasped the
handle of her knife—how quick her heart beat! it might
be now or never.

But there were too many around to protect Old Bets.
The time would come—she would watch for her—she would
tear her heart from her yet.

The sons of the old hag did not leave the village; they
would keep a watch on their father and his Chippeway
wife. They would not easily yield their right to the chieftainship.

While they hunted, and smoked, and played at
cards, they were ever on the look-out for revenge.

2. CHAPTER II.

“Red Earth” sits by the door of her father's teepee;
while the village is alive with cheerfulness, she does not join
in any of the amusements going on, but seems to be occupied
with what is passing in her own mind.

Occasionally she throws a pebble from the shore far into
the river, and the copper-colored children spring after it, as
if the water were their own element, striving to get it before
it sinks from their view.

Had she been attentive to what is passing around her, she
would not have kept her seat, for “Shining Iron,” the son
of Good Road's second wife, approaches her; and she loves
him too little to talk with him when it can be avoided.

“Why are you not helping the women to make the teepee,
Red Earth?” said the warrior. “They are laughing
while they sew the buffalo-skin together, and you are sitting
silent and alone. Why is it so? Are you thinking of
`Fiery Wind?”'

“There are enough women to make the teepee,” replied
Red Earth, “and I sit alone because I choose to do so.
But it I am thinking of `Fiery Wind' I do right—he is a
great warrior!”

“Tell me if you love Fiery Wind?” said the young man,
while his eyes flashed fire, and the veins in his temple
swelled almost to bursting.

“I do not love you,” said the girl, “and that is enough.
And you need never think I will become your wife; your
spells cannot make me love you.[1] Where are Fiery Wind
and his relations? driven from the wigwam of the Chief by
you and your Chippeway mother. But they do not fear
you—neither do I!”

And Red Earth looked calmly at the angry face of her
lover. For Shining Iron did love her, and he had loved her
long. He had loaded her with presents, which she always
refused; he had related his honors, his brave acts to her,
but she turned a deaf ear to his words. He promised her
he would always have venison in her teepee, and that he
never would take another wife; she was the only woman
he could ever love. But he might as well have talked to
the winds. And he thought so himself, for, finding he
could not gain the heart of the proud girl, he determined
she should never be the wife of any other man, and he told
her so.

“You may marry Fiery Wind,” said the angry lover,
“but if you do, I will kill him.”

Red Earth heard, but did not reply to his threats; she
feared not for herself, but she trembled at the prospect of
danger to the man she loved. And while she turned the
bracelets on her small wrists, the warrior left her to her
own thoughts. They were far from being pleasant; she
must warn her lover of the threats of his rival. For a
while she almost determined she would not marry Fiery

Wind, for then his life would be safe; but she would not
break her promise. Besides, it was hard for her to destroy
all the air-built castles which she had built for her happy
future.

She knew Shining Iron's bravery, and she doubted not
he would fulfil his promise; for a moment prudence suggested
that she had better marry him to avoid his revenge.
But she grasped the handle of her knife, as if she would
plunge it into her own bosom for harboring the dark thought.
Never should she be unfaithful; when Fiery Wind returned
she would tell him all, and then she would become
his wife, and she felt that her own heart was true enough
to guard him, her own arm strong enough to slay his
enemy.

All women are wilful enough, but Dahcotah women are
particularly so. Slaves as they are to their husbands, they
lord it over each other, and it is only when they become
grandmothers that they seem to feel their dependence, and
in many instances yield implicit obedience to the wills of
their grandchildren.

They take great delight in watching over and instructing
their children's children; giving them lessons in morality,[2]
and worldly wisdom. Thus while Red Earth was making
her determination, her old grandmother belonging to the
village was acting upon hers.

This old woman was a perfect virago—an “embodied

storm.” In her time she had cut off the hands and feet of
some little Chippeway children, and strung them, and worn
them for a necklace. And she feasted yet at the pleasant
recollections this honorable exploit induced.

But so tender was she of the feelings of her own flesh
and blood, that the thought of their suffering the slightest
pain was death to her.

Her son ruled his household very well for a Dahcotah.
He had a number of young warriors and hunters growing
up around him, and he sometimes got tired of their disturbances,
and would use, not the rod but a stick of wood to
some purpose. Although it had the good effect of quelling
the refractory spirits of the young, it invariably fired the
soul of his aged mother. The old woman would cry and
howl, and refuse to eat, for days; till, finding this had no
effect upon her hard-hearted son, she told him she would
do something that would make him sorry, the next time he
struck one of his children.

But the dutiful son paid no attention to her. He had always
considered women as being inferior to dogs, and he
would as soon have thought of giving up smoking, as of
minding his mother's threats.

But while Red Earth was thinking of her absent lover,
Two Stars was beating his sons again—and when the
maiden was left alone by Shining Iron after the warning
he had given her, she was attracted by the cries of one of
the old women of the village, who was struggling 'mid
earth and heaven, while old and young were running to
the spot, some to render assistance, others to see the fun.

And glorious fun it was! the grandmother had almost
hung herself—that is, she seriously intended to do it. But

she evidently did not expect the operation to be so painful.
When her son, in defiance of her tears and threats, commenced
settling his household difficulties in his own way
she took her head-strap,[3] went to a hill just above the village,
and deliberately made her preparations for hanging,
as coolly too as if she had been used to being hung for a
long time. But when, after having doubled the strap four
times to prevent its breaking, she found herself choking,
her courage gave way—she yelled frightfully; and it was
well that her son and others ran so fast, for they had well
nigh been too late. As it was, they carried her into the
teepee, where the medicine man took charge of her case;
and she was quite well again in an hour or two. Report
says (but there is a sad amount of scandal in an Indian
village) that the son has never offended the mother since;
so, like many a wilful woman, she has gained her point.

Red Earth witnessed the cutting down of the old woman,
and as she returned to her teepee, her quick ear warned
her of coming footsteps. She lingered apart from the others,
and soon she saw the eagle feathers of her warrior as
he descended the hill towards the village. Gladly would
she have gone to meet him to welcome him home, but she
knew that Shining Iron was watching her motions, and she
bent her steps homeward. She was quite sure that it would
not be long before he would seek her, and then she would
tell him what had passed, and make arrangements for their
course of conduct for the future.

Fiery Wind was the nephew of Good Road, but he, like
the sons, was in disgrace with the chief, and, like them, he
had vowed vengeance against “Old Bets.”

3. CHAPTER III.

The gun is now generally used among the Dahcotahs as
a weapon of warfare. But those bands in the neighborhood
of Fort Snelling considered it as a necessary part of
their war implements, before the distant bands were at all
acquainted with its use.

Some time ago, one of the Mun-da-wa-kan-tons gave a
gun to a Sisse-ton, who, proud of the gift, went out immediately
to use it. On his return to his village he came up
with a drove of buffaloes. His first impulse was to use his
bow and arrow, but a moment's thought reminded him of
the gift of his friend. He loaded the gun, saying at the
same time to it, “Now, the Dahcotahs call you `wah-kun'
(supernatural), kill me the fattest cow in the drove.” He
waited a few moments to see his orders executed, but the
gun was not “wah-kun” enough to fire by order alone.
Seeing that it did not go off, the Sisse-ton flew into a rage
and broke the gun into pieces. “I suppose,” said he “that
if a Mun-da-wah-can-ton had told you to kill a buffalo, you
would have done it, but you do not regard what a Sisse-ton
says.” So he threw the pieces of the gun away, and
found his bow and arrows of far more service.

However naturally the usages of warfare may come to
the Indians, they are also made a part of their education.

The children are taught that it is wicked to murder without
a cause; but when offence has been given, they are in
duty bound to retaliate.

The day after the return of Fiery Wind, the boys of the
village were to attack a hornet's nest. This is one of the
ways of training their sons to warfare. One of the old
warriors had seen a hornet's nest in the woods, and he returned
to the village, and with the chief assembled all the
boys in the village. The chief ordered the boys to take off
all their clothes, and gave them each a gun. He then told
them how brave their forefathers were—that they never
feared pain or danger—and that they must prove themselves
worthy sons of such ancestors. “One of these days
you will be men, and then you will go on war parties and
kill your enemies, and then you will be fit to join in the dog
feast. Be brave, and do not fear the sting of the hornet,
for if you do, you will be cowards instead of warriors, and
the braves will call you women and laugh at you.”

This was enough to animate the courage of the boys—
some of them not more than five years old pushed ahead of
their elder brothers, eager to show to their fathers, who
accompanied them, how little they feared their enemies, as
they termed the hornets. And formidable enemies they
were too—for many of the little fellows returned sadly
stung, with swollen limbs, and closed eyes; but they bore
their wounds as well as brave men would have endured
their pain on a battle-field.

After leaving their village, they entered the woods farther
from the banks of the river. The guide who had seen the
nest led the way, and the miniature warriors trod as lightly
as if there was danger of rousing a sleeping foe. At last

the old man pointed to the nest, and without a moment's
hesitation, the young Dahcotahs attacked it. Out flew the
hornets in every direction. Some of the little boys cried
out with the pain from the stings of the hornets on their
unprotected limbs—but the cries of Shame! shame! from
one of the old men soon recalled them to their duty, and
they marched up again not a whit discomfited. Good Road
cheered them on. “Fight well, my warriors,” said he;”
you will carry many scalps home, you are brave men.”

It was not long before the nest was quite destroyed, and
then the old men said they must take a list of the killed
and wounded. The boys forced a loud laugh when they
replied that there were no scalps taken by the enemy, but
they could not deny that the list of the wounded was quite
a long one. Some of them limped, in spite of their efforts
to walk upright, and one little fellow had to be assisted
along by his father, for both eyes were closed; and, although
stung in every direction and evidently suffering agony, the
brave boy would not utter a complaint.

When they approached the village, the young warriors
formed into Indian file, and entered as triumphantly as
their fathers would have done, had they borne twenty
Chippeway scalps with them.

The mothers first applauded the bravery of their sons;
and then applied herbs to their swollen limbs, and the
mimic war furnished a subject of amusement for the villages
for the remainder of the day.

4. CHAPTER IV.

It would be well for the Dahcotahs if they only sought
the lives of their enemies. But they are wasting in numbers
far more by their internal dissensions than from other
causes. Murder is so common among them, that it is even
less than a nine days' wonder; all that is thought necessary
is to bury the dead, and then some relative must avenge his
quarrel.

Red Earth told her lover of the threat of Shining Iron,
and the young man was thus put on his guard. The sons
f Good Road's first wife were also told of the state of
things, and they told Fiery Wind that they would take up
his quarrel, glad of an opportunity to avenge their own and
their mother's wrongs. It was in the month of April, or
as the Dahcotahs say in “the moon that geese lay,” that
Red Earth took her place by the side of her husband, thus
asserting her right to be mistress of his wigwam. While she
occupied herself with her many duties, she never for a moment
forgot the threat of Shining Iron. But her cares and
anxieties for her husband's safety were soon over. She had
not long been a wife before her enemy lay a corpse; his life
was a forfeit to his love for her, and Red Earth had a
woman's heart. Although she could but rejoice that the
fears which had tormented her were now unnecessary, yet
when she remembered how devotedly the dead warrior had
loved her, how anxiously he had tried to please her, she

could not but shed a few tears of sorrow for his death. But
they were soon wiped away—not for the world would she
have had her husband see them.

The oldest sons of Good Road were true to their word—
and the son of Old Bets was not the only subject for their
vengeance. His sister was with him at the moment that
they chose to accomplish their purpose; and when an Indian
commences to shed blood, there is no knowing how
soon he will be satisfied. Shining Iron died instantly,
but the sister's wounds were not fatal—she is slowly recovering.

It was but yesterday that we visited the grave of the
dead warrior. On a hill near the St. Peters his body is
buried. The Indians have enclosed the grave, and there is
a “Wah-kun stone,” to which they sacrifice, at his head. No
one reposes near him. Alone he lies, undisturbed by aught
except the winds that sigh over him. The first flowers of
Spring are blooming on the spot where he played in childhood,
and here, where he reposes, he often sat to mourn the
unkindness of Red Earth, and vow vengeance on his successful
rival.

But he is not unwatched. His spirit is ever near, and
perhaps he will again live on earth.[4] His friends believe
that he may hold communion with Unk-ta-he,—that from
that God he will learn the mysteries of the Earth and
Water; and when he lives again in another form, he will
instruct the Dahcotahs in their religion, and be a great
medicine man.

Good Road is quite reconciled to his sons, for he says it
was a brave deed to get rid of an enemy. In vain does
Old Bets ask for vengeance on the murderers. Good Road
reminds her that Shining Iron had made a threat, and it
was not proper he should live; and the chief insisted more
upon this, when he added that these children of her's were
by a former husband, and it was natural his sons should
resent their father's preference for them.

So after all Old Bets doubts whether she, or the Chief's
first wife, has got the best of it; and as she dresses the
wounds of her daughter, she wishes that the Dahcotahs had
killed her mother instead of adopting her—lamenting, too,
that she should ever have attained to the honor of being
Good Road's wife.