University of Virginia Library

THE INDIAN IN A TRANCE.

About forty years ago, Ahak-tah, “The Male Elk,” was
taken sick with a sore throat. It was in the winter too,
and sickness and cold together are hard to bear. Want
was an evil from which they were suffering; though the
Dahcotahs were not so poor then as they are now. They
had not given so much of their lands to the white people;
and they depended more upon their own exertions for support
than they do at present.

The medicine men did all they could to cure Ahaktah;
they tried to charm away the animal that had entered into
his body; they used the sacred rattle. But Ahaktah's
throat got worse; he died, and while his wives and children
wept for him, he had started on his long journey to
the land of spirits.

He was wrapped in scarlet cloth, and laid upon a scaffold.
His wives sat weeping in their teepee, when a cry from
their young children drew their attention to the door.
There stood he for whom they mourned. The dead man
again took his place among those who sat beside the household
fire. Tears of grief were shed no more—food was
given to Ahaktah, and when he was refreshed he thus addressed
his wondering family:—

“While you were weeping for me, my spirit was on its
way to the great city where our fathers, who have taught
us all the wonders of our sacred medicine, of Haokah the
giant, and of the Thunder bird, are now living. Twice has
the sun ceased to shine since I left you, and in that short
time I have seen many strange things. First, I passed
through a beautiful country; the forest-trees were larger
than any you have ever seen. Birds of all colors filled
them, and their music was as loud as when our medicine
men play for us to celebrate the scalp dance. The broad
river was full of fish, and the loon screamed as she swam
across the lakes. I had no difficulty in finding my way,
for there was a road through this country. It seemed as
if there must have been many travellers there, though I
saw no one.

“This great road was made by the spirits of those who
were killed in battle. No warrior, however brave he may
have been, has ever assisted in making this road, except
those who sang their death songs under the tomahawk of
their enemies. Neither did any woman ever assist. She
is not considered worthy to touch the war implements of a
Dahcotah warrior, and she was not permitted to do anything
towards completing the path in which the braves of
the Dahcotahs would walk, when they joined their forefathers
in the land of spirits.

“As I pursued my journey, I saw near the banks of the
river a teepee; I entered it, and saw paint and all that a
warrior needed to dress himself in order to be fit to enter
the city of spirits. I sat down and plaited my hair, I put
vermilion on my cheeks, and arranged the war-eagle feathers
in my head. Here, I said to myself, did my father rest

when he was on the same journey. I was tired, but I could
not wait—I longed to see my friends who had travelled this
path before me—I longed to tell them that the Dahcotahs
were true to the customs of their forefathers—I longed to
tell them that we had drunk deep of the blood of the Chippeways,
that we had eaten the hearts of our enemies, that
we had torn their infants from their mothers' breasts, and
dashed them to the earth.

“I continued my journey, looking eagerly around me to
see some one, but all was desolate; and beautiful as everything
was, I would have been glad to have seen the face
of a friend.

“It was evening when a large city burst upon my sight.
The houses were built regularly on the shores of the river.
As far as I could see, the homes of the spirits of my forefathers
were in view.

“But still I saw no one. I descended the hill towards
the river, which I must cross to reach the city of spirits. I
saw no canoe, but I feared nothing, I was so near my journey's
end. The river was wide and deep, and the waves
were swiftly following one another, when I plunged among
them; soon I reached the opposite shore, and as I again
stood on the land, I heard some one cry, `Here he comes!
here he comes!' I approached the nearest house and entered;
everything looked awful and mysterious.

“In the corner of the room sat a figure whom I recognized.
It was my mother's brother, Flying Wind, the medicine
man. I remembered him, for it was he who taught
me to use my bow and arrow.

“In a bark dish, in the corner of the room, was some
wild rice. I was very hungry, for I had not eaten since I

left the earth. I asked my uncle for some rice to eat, but
he did not give it to me. Had I eaten of the food for
spirits, I never should have returned to earth.

“At last my uncle spoke to me. `My nephew,' said he,
`why are you travelling without a bow and arrow? how
can you provide yourself with food when you have no
means of killing game? When my home was on the Mississippi,
the warriors of the Dahcotahs were never without
their bows and arrows—either to secure their food or to
strike to the hearts of their enemies.'

“I then remembered that I had been travelling without
my bow and arrows. `But where,' said I to my uncle,
`where are the spirits of my forefathers? where is my
brother who fell under the tomahawk of his enemy? where
is my sister who threw herself into the power of Unkt-ahe,
rather than to live and see her rival the wife of the Sun?
where are the spirits of the Dahcotah braves whose deeds
are still told from father to son among us?'

“`The Dahcotah braves are still watching for their enemies—the
hunters are bringing in the deer and the buffalo
—our women are planting corn and tanning deer-skin.
But you will not now see them; your step is firm and
your eye is bright; you must return to earth, and when
your limbs are feeble, when your eye is dim, then will you
return and find your home in the city of spirits.'

“So saying, he arose and gave me a bow and arrow. I
took it, and while trying it I left the house; but how I do
not know.

“The next thing that I remember was being seated
on the top of the cliffs of Eagle's Nest, below Lake Pepin.
I heard a sound, and soon distinguished my mother's voice;

she was weeping. I knew that she was bending over my
body. I could see her as she cut off her hair, and I felt sad
when I heard her cry, `My son! my son!' Then I recollect
being on the top of the half-side mountain on Lake
Pepin. Afterwards I was on the mountain near Red
Wing's village, and again I stood on a rock, on a point of
land near where the waters of the Mississippi and St.
Peter's meet, on the `Maiden's Jumping Rock;'[1] here I
recovered my right mind.”

The daughter of Ahaktah says that her father retained
the “wahkun” bow and arrow that was given him by his
uncle, and that he was always successful in hunting or in
war; that he enjoyed fine health, and lived to be a very old
man; and she is living now to tell the story.