University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

It was in the spring of 1848, that several Dahcotahs
were carefully making their way along the forests near the
borders of the Chippeway country. There had recently
been a fight near the spot where they were, and the Dahcotahs
were seeking the bodies of their friends who had
been slain, that they might take them home to bury them.

They moved noiselessly along, for their enemies were
near. Occasionally, one of them would imitate the cry of
a bird or of some animal, so that if the attention of their
enemies should be drawn to the spot, the slight noise they
made in moving might be attributed to any but the right
cause.

They had almost given up the hope of finding their
friends, and this was the close of their last day's efforts to
that intent. In the morning they intended to return to
their village.

It was a bright clear evening, and the rays of the setting
sun fell upon some objects further on. For a time the
Dahcotahs gazed in silence; but no movement gave sign
of what it was that excited their curiosity. All at once

there was a fearful foreboding; they remembered why they
were there, and they determined to venture near enough to
find out what was the nature of the object on which the
rays of the sun seemed to rest as if to attract their notice.

A few more steps and they were relieved from their terrible
suspense, but their worst fears were realized.

The Dahcotahs recently killed had been skinned by the
Chippeways, while their bodies were yet warm with life,
and the skins were stretched upon poles; while on separate
poles the hands were placed, with one finger of each hand
pointing to the Dahcotah country. The savages were in a
fearful rage. They had to endure a twofold insult.

There were the bodies of their friends, treated as if they
were but beasts, and evidently put there to be seen by the
Dahcotahs. And besides, the hands pointing to the country
of the Dahcotahs—did it not plainly say to the spies,
go back to your country and say to your warriors, that the
Chippeways despise them, that they are not worthy to be
treated as men?

The spies returned as cautiously as they had ventured
near the fatal spot, and it was not until they were out of
reach of danger from their foes, that they gave vent to
their indignation. Then their smothered rage burst forth.
They hastened to return and tell the event of their journey.
They forgot how grieved the wives and sisters of the
dead would be at being deprived of the solace of burying
the remains of their friends—they only thought of revenge
for the insult they had received.

When they arrived at their village, they called together
their chiefs and braves, and related to them what they had
seen. A council of war was held, which resulted in immediate

preparations being made to resent the indignity offered
to their friends, and the insult to the whole tribe.

The war-dance is always celebrated before a war party
goes out to find an enemy, and there is in every village a
war chief, who conducts the party. The war dance is performed
inside of a wigwam, and not out of door, as is
usually represented.

The “Owl” felt himself qualified in every respect to conduct
the present party. He was a great warrior, and a
juggler besides; and he had a reputation acquired from an
act performed when he was a very young man, which
showed as much cunning as bravery; for one of these qualities
is as necessary to a Dahcotah war chief as the other.

He was one of a party of Dahcotahs who went to war
against the Chippeways, but without success. On their
way back “the Owl” got separated from the rest of the
party, and he climbed a tree to see if he could discover his
comrades. While in the tree a war party of the Chippeways
came in sight and stopped quite near the tree to
make their camp.

The Owl was in a sad predicament; he knew not what
to do to effect his escape. As he knew he had not the
power to contend with his enemies, he determined to have
recourse to stratagem. When it was quite dark he commenced
hooting like an owl, having previously transformed
himself into one. The Chippeways looked up towards the
tree and asked the owl what he was doing there. The owl
replied that he had come to see a large war party of Dahcotahs
who would soon pass by. The Chippeways took
the hint, and took to their heels too, and ran home. The

Owl then resumed his form, got down from the tree and
returned home.

This wonderful incident, which he related of himself, gave
him a great reputation and a name besides; for until now
he had been called Chaskè, a name always given to the
oldest son; but the Indians after this gave him the name
of the Owl.

It being decided that the war party should leave as soon
as their preparations could be made, the war chief sent for
those who were to dance. The dance was performed every
third or fourth night until the party left. For each dance
the war chief had a new set of performers; only so many
were asked at a time as could conveniently dance inside the
wigwam. While some were dancing, others were preparing
for the expedition, getting extra mocassins made,
drying meat, or parching corn.

When all was ready, the party set out, with every confidence
in their war chief. He was to direct them where to
find the enemy, and at the same time to protect them
from being killed themselves.

For a few days they hunted as they went along, and
they would build large fires at night, and tell long stories,
to make the time pass pleasantly.

The party was composed of about twenty warriors, and
they all obeyed implicitly the orders of their war chief, who
appointed some warriors to see that his directions were
carried out by the whole party. Wo to him who violates
a single regulation! his gun is broken, his blanket cut to
pieces, and he is told to return home. Such was the fate
of Iron Eyes, who wandered from the party to shoot a bird
on the wing, contrary to the orders of their chief. But

although disgraced and forbidden to join in the attempt to
punish the Chippeways for the outrage they had commited,
he did not return to his village; he followed the tracks of
the war party, determining to see the fun if he could not
partake of it.

On the fourth night after they left home, the warriors
were all assembled to hear the war song of their chief.
They were yet in their own country, seated on the edge of
a prairie, and back of them as far as the eye could reach,
there was nothing to be seen but the half melted snow; no
rocks, no trees, relieved the sameness of the view. On the
opposite side of the Mississippi, high bluffs, with their worn
sides and broken rocks, hung over the river; and in the
centre of its waters lay the sacred isles, whose many trees
and bushes wanted only the warm breath of summer to
display their luxuriance. The war chief commenced. He
prophesied that they would see deer on the next day, but
that they must begin to be careful, for they would then
have entered their enemies' country. He told them how
brave they were, and that he was braver still. He told them
the Chippeways were worse than prairie dogs. To all of
which the warriors responded, Ho!

When they found themselves near their enemies, the
chief forbade a gun being fired off; no straggling was
allowed; none but the spies were to go beyond a certain
distance from the party.

But after they entered the Chippeway country the
duties of the war chief were still more important. He had
to prophesy where the enemy was to be found, and about
their number; and besides, he had to charm the spirits of
their enemies, that they might be unable to contend with

the Dahcotahs. The spirits on this occasion took the form
of a bear.

About nine o'clock at night this ceremony commences.
The warriors all lie down as if asleep, when the war chief
signifies the approach of the spirits to his men, by the
earnestness of his exertions in singing.

The song continues, and increases in energy as the spirit
gets nearer to the hole in the ground, which the chief dug
and filled with water, previous to commencing his song.
Near this hole he placed a hoop, against which are laid all the
war implements of the chief. Before the song commences
the warriors sit and look steadfastly at their leader. But
when the spirit approaches this hole, the warriors hardly
dare breathe, for fear of frightening it away.

At last the spirit gets close to the hole. The war chief
strikes it with his rattle and kills it; this ensures to the
Dahcotahs success in battle. And most solemnly did the
Owl assert to his soldiers, the fact that he had thus dealt
with the bear spirit, while they as earnestly believed it.

The next morning, four of the warriors went in advance
as spies; one of them carried a pipe, presented as an offering
to deceive the spirits of their enemies. About noon
they sat down to rest, and waited until the remainder of
the party came up. When they were all together again,
they rested and smoked; and other spies were appointed,
who took the pipe and went forward again.

They had not proceeded far when they perceived signs
of their enemies. In the sand near the borders of a prairie
were the footprints of Chippeways, and fresh too. They
congratulated each other by looks, too cautious even to
whisper. In a few moments a hundred Chippeways could

be called up, but still the Dahcotahs plunge into the
thick forest that skirts the edge of the prairie, in order to
find out what prospect they have for delighting themselves
with the long wished for revenge.

It was not long before a group of Chippeways was discovered,
all unapprehensive of evil. At their camp the
Chippeways had made pickets, for they knew they might
expect retaliation; but those who fell a sacrifice were not
expecting their foes.

The spies were not far ahead—they returned to the party,
and then retraced their steps. The low cries of animals
were imitated to prevent any alarm being given by the
breaking of a twig or the rustling of the leaves. They
were very near the Chippeways, when the war chief gave
the signal on a bone whistle, and the Dahcotahs fired.
Every one of the Chippeways fell—two men, three women,
and two children.

Then came the tomahawk and scalping knife—the
former to finish the work of death, the latter to bear a
trophy to their country, to say, Our comrades are avenged.
Nor was that all. The bodies were cut to pieces, and then
the warriors commenced their homeward journey.

They allowed themselves but little rest until they were
out of their enemies' country. But when they were out of
the reach of attack, when their feet trod again upon Dahcotah
soil, then they stopped to stretch each scalp on a
hoop, which was attached to a slender pole. This is
always the work of the war chief.

They look eagerly for the welcome sight of home. The
cone-shaped teepees rise before their view. They know

that their young wives will rejoice to see the scalps, as
much as to know that the wanderers have returned.

When they are near their village the war chief raises
the song of victory; the other warriors join their voices to
his. The welcome sound rouses the inhabitants of the
village from their duties or amusements. The warriors
enter the village in triumph, one by one, each bearing the
scalp he took; and the stout warrior, the aged woman, and
the feeble child, all press forward to feast their eyes with
the sight of the scalps.

There was a jubilee in the village for weeks. Day and
night did the savages dance round the scalps. But how
soon may their rejoicings be lost in cries of terror! Even
now they tremble at the sound of their own voices when
evening draws near—for it is their turn to suffer. They
expect their foes, but they do not dread them the less.