University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

Wabashaw, (or The Leaf,) is the name of one of the
Dahcotah Chiefs. His village is on the Mississippi river,
1,800 miles from its mouth.

The teepees are pitched quite near the shore, and the
many bluffs that rise behind them seem to be their perpetual
guards.

The present chief is about thirty-five years old—as yet
he has done not much to give him a reputation above the
Dahcotahs about him. But his father was a man whose
life and character were such as to influence his people to a
great degree.

Wabashaw the elder, (for the son inherits his father's
name,) is said by the Dahcotahs to have been the first chief
in their tribe.

Many years ago the English claimed authority over the
Dahcotahs, and an English traveller having been murdered
by some Dahcotahs of the band of which Wabashaw was a
warrior, the English claimed hostages to be given up until
the murderer could be found.

The affairs of the nation were settled then by men who,
having more mind than the others, naturally influenced their

inferiors. Their bravest men, their war chief too, no doubt
exercised a control over the rest.

Wabashaw was one of the hostages given up in consequence
of the murder, and the Governor of Canada required
that these Dahcotahs should leave the forests of the west,
and remain for a time as prisoners in Canada. Little as is
the regard for the feelings of the savage now, there was still
less then.

Wabashaw often spoke of the ill treatment he received
on his journey. It was bad enough to be a prisoner, and
to be leaving home; it was far worse to be struck, for the
amusement of idle men and children—to have the war
eagle's feather rudely torn from his head to be trampled
upon—to have the ornaments, even the pipes of the nation,
taken away, and destroyed before his eyes.

But such insults often occurred during their journey,
and the prisoners were even fettered when at last they
reached Quebec.

Here for a long time they sighed to breathe the invigorating
air of the prairies; to chase the buffalo; to celebrate
the war dance. But when should they join again in the
ceremonies of their tribe? When? Alas! they could
not even ask their jailer when; or if they had, he would
only have laughed at the strange dialect that he could not
comprehend. But the Dahcotahs bore with patience their
unmerited confinement, and Wabashaw excelled them all.
His eye was not as bright as when he left home, and there
was an unusual weakness in his limbs—but never should
his enemies know that he suffered. And when those high
in authority visited the prisoners, the haughty dignity of

Wabashaw made them feel that the Dahcotah warrior was
a man to be respected.

But freedom came at last. The murderers were given
up; and an interpreter in the prison told Wabashaw that
he was no longer a prisoner; that he would soon again
see the Father of many waters; and that more, he had
been made by the English a chief, the first chief of the
Dahcotahs.

It was well nigh too late for Wabashaw. His limbs
were thin, and his strength had failed for want of the fresh
air of his native hills.

Little did the prisoners care to look around as they retraced
their steps. They knew they were going home.
But when the waters of the Mississippi again shone before
them, when the well-known bluffs met their eager gaze;
when the bending river gave to view their native village,
then, indeed, did the new-made chief cast around him the
“quiet of a loving eye.” Then, too, did he realize what he
had suffered.

He strained his sight—for perhaps his wife might have
wearied of waiting for him—perhaps she had gone to the
Land of spirits, hoping to meet him there.

His children too—the young warriors, who were wont to
follow him and listen to his voice, would they welcome him
home?

As he approached the village a cloud had come between
him and the sun. He could see many upon the shore, but
who were they? The canoe swept over the waters, keeping
time to the thoughts of those who were wanderers no
longer.

As they neared the shore, the cloud passed away and the

brightness of the setting sun revealed the faces of their
friends; their cries of joy rent the air—to the husband, the
son, the brother, they spoke a welcome home!

Wabashaw, by the command of the English Governor,
was acknowledged by the Dahcotahs their first chief; and
his influence was unbounded. Every band has a chief,
and the honor descends from father to son; but there has
never been one more honored and respected than Wabashaw.