University of Virginia Library

THE HOHAYS.

Some years ago there lived in the plains between
the Missouri and the Saskatchawayn a
young Indian, who at the termination of his nonage
received from his tribe the appellation of
Weeteeko, or the Fool. This name was conferred
on him, not that he was weak in intellect,
but on account of his notorious inability to command
his passions; that being in the opinion of
the Dahcotahs the very worst kind of folly. He
was irritable, suspicious, and jealous, and unable to
conceal it. His tongue gave vent to whatever
came uppermost in his mind, to his own great
prejudice, for it kept him in a constant broil.

Nevertheless one circumstance gave him a
certain degree of consequence. Consanguinity,
according to the Indians, extends much farther,
and its obligations are of greater force than in
civilized nations. A cousin, with them, is as near

as a brother, and a man may not without incurring
great shame marry a woman in the most remote
degree allied to him by blood. Weeteeko belonged
to a great family. Many noted braves and men of
influence counted kin with him.

He fixed his affection on Khotah Way (The
Grey Woman) and obtained her in marriage.
Never before nor since was a poor squaw fated to
undergo such misery. If she spoke to a man,
she sustained his reproaches, and not seldom his
blows. If his moccasins were not ornamented,
his lodge [11] not pitched, or his horse not tended
to his liking, he raved and scolded, whereby his
family as well as hers were terribly scandalized.
His provoking jealousy at last drove her to what
she would not otherwise have thought of. She
engaged in an intrigue with Nahpay Tunkah
(The Big Hand) a young man whose connections
were as numerous as those of her husband. The
affair became the common talk of the whole
band long before the person most interested was
aware of it, as no one liked him well enough to
inform him.

But at length riding one day to the buffalo
hunt, as he was vaunting the excellence of the
animal he bestrode, and the carnage he intended
to make by its help, another young man who
cantered by his side smiled significantly and said,
`kill as many cows as you will Weeteeko, you
had still much better have staid in your lodge.'

`And why so?'

`Why so! There is a cow there that Nahpay

Tunkah loves to approach. [12] O, he has a good
head. He was sick you know this morning.'

His suspicions now wide awake, Weeteeko
asked question after question, which the other,
enjoying his uneasiness, answered in a strain of
banter admirably calculated to increase the confusion
of the querist. He declared that on his
return he would cut off his wife's nose [13] and slay
her lover. Had he observed the usual Indian
maxims of prudence he might have effected his
intended revenge. But not curbing his tongue
the brother of Nahpay Tunkah, who rode close
behind, overheard him. He separated from the
cavalcade the first opportunity and galloped back
to the camp. He found the pair in close confabulation.
`Fly,' he said to Khotah Way, `if
you value your nose. And you, fool, if you are
not tired of your life, fly with her.' Few words
served to explain the danger. Nahpay Tunkah
resolved to escape with the woman to the next
camp of his relatives, and there wait till the anger
of Weeteeko should blow over or be appeased
with gifts. In a few minutes he was on the
way accompanied by his brother.

When Weeteeko returned he found the birds
flown. His passion was beyond all bounds and
his speech was of blood and cruelty. He declared
that he would follow the dog that had bitten
him and take such vengeance as never was
heard of. In the mean while he ran to the lodge
of the father of Nahpay Tunkah and cut it in
pieces with his knife, while the family [14] of the
absentee smoked their pipes within with as little

concern as if nothing had happened. The enraged
savage then let fly two arrows at as many
dogs belonging to the lodge and relieved his
choler with harsh and abusive speech, but nothing
could disturb the serenity of the inmates.
When he was gone one of the elders coolly remarked
that Nahpay Tunkah was a fool for doing
as he had, but not so great a fool as Weeteeko
either. It was then resolved that the family of the
absentee should follow him to prevent further
mischief.

Before daybreak the next morning, Weeteeko
was off in pursuit. A good horse, which he did
not spare, soon brought him in sight of the camp
where Khotah Way and her lover had taken refuge.
Luckily for them, he was seen afar off. At the
cry of `a man on horseback!' they guessed who it
must be. The guilty wife fled into the heart of
the wood, and concealed herself behind the trunk
of a fallen tree. At the solicitation of his friends,
Nahpay Tunkah followed her with his bow and
arrows.

In a few minutes Weeteeko was in the camp.
He sprung from his horse which was almost spent
with fatigue, and ranged furiously among the lodges,
calling on his enemy, if he was a man, to show
himself. As he found his summons disregarded,
he rent the air with reproaches, calling Nahpay
Tunkah dog, coward, old woman, and even winktah,
the last of insults to a Dahcotah.[15] Enraged
that he did not appear, Weeteeko entered all the
lodges successively, overturning the piles of buffalo
robes, and searching every corner that might

have concealed a man. Finding his quest vain,
he at last stood still, leaning on his bent bow, and
casting fearfully ferocious glances around him.

`What ails you, Weeteeko?' asked an uncle
of the person he sought. `What mean these
cries, and whom are you seeking?'

`As if you did not know,' replied the other.
`You have no need to be told that your dog of a
nephew has carried away my woman; whose nose
I will cut off before this snow melts away.'

`And if he has,' returned the senior, `are you
not ashamed to raise such a clamor about a poor
silly woman? You cry after her as if you were
an infant and she your mother. You have lost
your wife, but what of that? Such things often
happen. There are plenty more women left alive.
I dare to say you may get another without leaving
this camp. Come, enter my tent, and eat and
smoke.'

`I care not for the woman,' rejoined Weeteeko,
somewhat abashed at this rebuke. `I care not
for this, nor any other woman. But I am not a
woman neither, and I will not be laughed at. Your
nephew has done well to hide himself.'

`He has acted more wisely in running away
than you have in following him. Yet if he has
done as you say, let him keep the woman, and I
will give you six horses, and twenty painted robes,
and ten strings of wampum.'

`No, I do not want your horses; I can steal
enough myself. I have wampum and robes of my
own. I came here to kill a dog, and I will kill
one before I depart.'

`If you do seek a dog, you see it is not here
you ought to look. You have taken the wrong
track.'

At the last word a light seemed to break on the
mind of the hot headed youth. His eyes sparkled,
his nostrils expanded, and giving a shout of triumph
he rushed out of the camp. Taking a wide circuit
round the lodges, he examined every diverging
foot print. At last he came to the tracks of
the objects of his resentment, and recognised them
at once. With a yell of delight he followed them
up, at a pace that promised soon to overtake them.
He had not, indeed, far to go, but in his blind
fury he neglected the ordinary Indian precautions
in approaching an enemy.

Nahpay Tunkah heard his cry, and saw him
coming, and so did Khotah Way. She clung
trembling to her lover, and besought him not to
abandon her to the rage of her husband. Had he
been disposed so to do he knew it would be in
vain, for Weeteeko was wonderfully swift of foot.
He told her to fear nothing, and bent his bow very
calmly. Stepping behind a tree he fitted an arrow
to the string, and awaited the approach of his
inveterate pursuer. He remained motionless till
Weeteeko was within ten yards of him. Then he
drew the shaft to the head and discharged it with
unerring aim. The point entered his adversary's
eye and passed out over his ear, shattering the
skull in a dreadful manner. The wood was splintered
by the force of the blow. The homicide
gave the usual crie de joie for the death of an enemy,
and called on his companion to behold his

work. But in a revulsion of feeling she threw
herself upon the bleeding corpse, and made the
wood resound with her lamentations.

Roused at length by his reproaches and expostulations,
she arose, and they wended their way,
sad and fearful, to the camp. The youth called
his kinsmen about him, and told them what he
had done, at the same time declaring his resolution
to give himself up quietly to the avengers of
blood. They lamented for what had happened,
but decided unanimously that Weeteeko had `died
as a fool dieth,' in the manner best befitting his
name. He had refused all mediation and advice,
and though he had certainly a right to do as he
pleased with his delinquent wife, he ought to have
been satisfied with the gifts offered to mollify his
resentment. Nahpay Tunkah had killed him in
self defence, and having paid the price of blood,
was to be held guiltless. If the relations of the
deceased should not acquiesce in these opinions,
he ought not to be delivered into their hands, but
on the contrary, defended to the last extremity.
This decision was perhaps a little influenced by a
strong jealousy that existed between the two families.

The body of Weeteeko was brought to the
camp with much solemnity. A medicine dance
took place, [16] after which it was consigned to the
earth with all proper rites and marks of honor.
The men afflicted their flesh as if it had been one
of their relatives, and the women mourned as for
a brother. Not the least vehement in these demonstrations
of grief were the two persons by

whose misconduct the misfortune had come to
pass; and it is probable the fear of punishment did
not mitigate their sorrow. All things fitting for
the use of a hunter and warrior in the other world
were buried with Weeteeko, and his own horse
was sacrificed on the grave.

To be in readiness for whatever might befall,
runners were sent in every direction to summon
the connections of the family. And as intelligence
spreads nowhere faster than among Indians, ere
three days the father of Weeteeko was apprised of
what had taken place. The unfortunate youth
had come honestly by his violent disposition, having
inherited it from his parent, who now resolved
to go straightway in quest of his son's murderer,
and slay him with his own hand. Not dreaming
that any opposition would be made to the observance
of the unwritten law of the Dahcotahs, he
set off, attended by his two brothers only. He
reached the camp, and was invited into the soldier's
lodge[17] to rest and refresh himself; but he
declined the courtesy. In a loud speech he set
forth his grievances. The wife of his only son
had been clandestinely carried off; but it was not
for a thing so trifling as the loss of a woman that
he sought vengeance. Such an occurrence was
beneath the notice of a man. His son, had he
lived, could have found as many wives as he
pleased. There were very many Dahcotahs who
would have been glad to give their daughters to so
good a hunter. But his son had been slain while
seeking to recover what was his by just right, by
the very man who had injured him. The rites of

hospitality and the usages of the nation had been
violated. Weeteeko had indeed behaved foolishly,
and like a very young man as he was, but he
was now dead. Therefore he demanded that the
offender should be bound and delivered into his
hands, to suffer the penalty of murder.

The old man spoke in a strain of angry eloquence,
his eyes flashing, and every muscle quivering
with emotion. We give the substance of
his discourse, but the manner in which it was delivered
we are unable to convey. He was heard
with attention and respect. When he admitted
that his son had acted like a fool, he was honored
with the customary grunt of applause; but when he
demanded the surrender of the homicide, that token
of assent was withheld. The father of Nahpay
Tunkah spoke in reply.

He, he said, who treated his wife like a dog,
could not expect to be loved by her. So had
Weeteeko done by Khotah Way; and in such
circumstances it was but natural that she should
turn to some other man for solace and consolation,
and it was no matter of wonder if her regard had
been reciprocated by Nahpay Tunkah, who was
himself a very young man. He had, however,
acted like a fool to take the life of another, when
there were so many girls whom he might have
obtained. Yet he had done what might be justified
in killing Weeteeko. If that youth had been
satisfied to use his right to recover and punish his
wife, the case would have been different; though
even then, he would have been in the wrong to
have put her to death. Juvenile follies should

not be visited with so much rigor. But he had
insisted not only on killing her, but her paramour
also, contrary to the custom of the Dahcotahs,
from time immemorial. It never had been their
practice to put an adulterer to death, unless in the
first heat of passion. Weeteeko had had time to
reflect, and had been offered a magnificent compensation
for the injury he had sustained. He
had refused to accept it, and would be content
with nothing less than the blood of the offending
party, and therefore Nahpay Tunkah was right to
kill him in self defence. But to avoid dissension
the speaker was willing to pay the price of blood,
and he besought the bereaved parent to take all
the family possessed, and suffer his anger to sleep.
And to this harangue the women added their
cries of `spare my son! spare my brother!'

Instead of becoming pacified, the old man was
violently enraged. In the plenitude of his displeasure
he bestowed on them all manner of
abuse and opprobrious epithets, and asked if they
thought he valued all the horses in existence as
highly as his son. Weeteeko had been slain, and
say what they might, he would have vengeance.

They now resorted to the last deprecatory
measure. A child, the prettiest in the camp, and
dressed in the finest attire they could procure
came out of a lodge, leading Nahpay Tunkah by
the hand. Coming before the senior, the culprit
stood still, and the child lisped a prayer for mercy.
[19] At the sight of the destroyer of his son
the old man fixed an arrow to his bow, but refrained
from discharging it for fear of hurting the

infant. At the demand of forgiveness, coming as
it did from the lips of childhood, he for a moment
relented; but his anger suddenly reviving, he
would have transfixed Nahpay Tunkah on the spot
had not his arm been withheld by one who stood
behind him. His brother, seeing his purpose thus
prevented, levelled the person who had interfered
with an arrow. This was the signal for the death
of the three visiters. They fell covered with
wounds, and a cry of exultation arose over them.

The bodies of the unfortunate father and uncles
of Weeteeko were not treated with disrespect,
nor were their scalps taken. They were
laid in their kindred dust with tears and lamentations,
and those by whose hands they fell looked
sorrowfully at each other, and asked, `what will
sorrowfully at each other, and asked, `what will
be the end of this?'

Many of the friends of the party had now arrived,
and after a long fast, it was resolved in
council, that as they might expect a visit from the
relatives of the slain, and as they had provisions
enough to stand a siege, they would construct a
fortification in the best manner they were able,
and wait the result. About two arrow flights
from the wood were two small hills, one a little in
advance of the other. On the tops of these they
made two enclosures with logs and brushwood.
Within these they dug holes large enough to lie
in, and at the same time use their weapons. A
store of hay was cut for the horses by the women,
and they all removed into these defences.
A watch, too, was set on the highest ground in the
vicinity.

The third day after, the sentinel discerned in
the extreme verge of the horizon, a dark object,
which he soon ascertained to be a large body of
horsemen. The men repaired to their posts, and
the women and children took shelter in the enclosures.
Had the advancing party been aware that
a hostile visit was expected, and that measures
had been taken to repel it, they would have come
under cover of the night; but, in fact, the friends
of Weeteeko had intended to enter the camp with
protestations of friendship, and to exterminate the
obnoxious faction by surprise. When, however,
they came near enough to see the preparations
for their reception, they yelled with rage, and
were promptly answered with shouts of defiance
from the intrenched party. They then dismounted
and consulted, when they scattered and
each strung his bow.

The defendants were something over an hundred,
and the assailants three times as many.
Yet the difference in position more than compensated
for the advantage in numbers. With the
usual reluctance of Indians to attack fortified
places, the besiegers advanced singly, skipping
and dancing about, to avoid the aim of those
within. Arrows were exchanged as occasion offered,
but excepting that some of the horses in
the forts, if forts they may be called, were wounded,
no damage was done. So little danger was
there in this way of fighting, that their grotesque
gestures and barbarous cries might have been
taken by a spectator for a game played for
amusement.

At last a young man who had never before
been in action, and who burned to gain a reputation,
cried that his name was Wawkeean Woheteeka,
(the Terrible Thunder) and that he would
strike on the enemy, cost what it might. Dropping
his bow and quiver, he flourished his war
club, and running at the top of his speed to the
nearest baricado, struck upon it, regardless of the
shower of shafts that was aimed at him. A shrill,
sharp cry announced that he had effected his
purpose, and he turned and fled with the same
speed at which he had advanced, bearing away
three arrows sticking in him. If he had been
killed it would have been an advantage to his
party, for then they would probably have been
discouraged by his death, and would have left the
ground. But at short intervals several more, encouraged
by his success, tried the same experiment,
and not one of them came off with the like
impunity. Seven of them laid stretched lifeless
on the ground before the breastwork, and the besieged
cried to the others to come on and share
the same fate[19]

Their ardor much abated by these losses, for
Indians count every man killed, the assailants
drew off to a safe distance, and it was resolved to
blockade the fortifications and starve the inmates
out. The idea of storming never entered their
heads, and we leave it to our readers to reconcile
this excess of caution with the desperate valor,
sometimes displayed by Indians. These men,
each of whom would, without the least hesitation,
have thrown away his life on the slightest imputation

of cowardice, or met a cruel death with unshaken
constancy, could not conceive the idea of
giving battle on fair and equal terms. If they
had now been engaged with Chippeways, or any
other tribe distinct from themselves, it is most
likely they would have abandoned the enterprise
as hopeless; but the strong excitement of the occasion
urged them to leave nothing untried for
vengeance.

They surrounded the position of the enemy,
and excepting that now and then some one would
advance, discharge an arrow, and receive one in
return, nothing material occurred for three days.
At length, weary of the length of the siege, they
resolved that if the besieged were not obliged by
hunger to abandon their cover by the morrow,
they would break up the leaguer and return.

Hunger was no part of the evil to which the
adherents of Nahpay Tunkah were subjected.
They had enough dried buffaloes' flesh to have
lasted a month. Enough hay, too, had been cut
for the horses up to the present time; but now it
gave out. But they were obliged to eat their
meat raw, and were cut off from wood and water.
Their thirst they might assuage with snow; but
the cold they were obliged to endure; and it was
no small hardship at that season. The old men
voted to remain where they were till the patience
of the enemy should be exhausted; but the
younger, and by far the greater number, gave
heir voices for departure. The women seconded
them unanimously; and their complaints and
scolding prevailed over the better judgment of the

elders. That very night then, was fixed on for
their escape.

It was dark and favorable to their plans.
Twenty of the most active sallied from the enclosures,
and crawling on the bare spots of earth,
that their dark forms might not be betrayed by
contrast with the snow, succeeded in passing the
enemies' line. Making a circuit round the wood
they approached the scene of operations in the
rear of the besiegers. It is well known what
command Indians have of their voices, and our
party exerted it to the utmost in the furious attack
they now made on the enemy. They
changed their tones at every cry, and called to
each other by the names of their relations who
were known to have been far away when the
siege commenced. The adverse party was completely
deceived; and believing the attack proceeded
from a new band of the friends of Nahpay
Tunkah, their whole force assembled in the edge
of the wood. The darkness, and the cover of the
trees prevented any great injury being done on
either side; but while this was going on, those
for whose benefit the stratagem was intended,
stole out of their fortification, with their horses,
wives and children. All were admonished to be
silent, and the infants were hindered from crying
by stuffing pieces of buffalo hide into their
mouths. When fairly out of hearing, they exerted
their speed till they reached the place appointed
for a rendezvous with their detatchment
engaged.

These last, when sufficient time had elapsed for

the fulfilment of their object, slackened their efforts,
gradually withdrew from the scene of strife,
and hastened to join their companions. When
the two parties reunited, they made all speed toward
a large encampment, which they reckoned
upon reaching, by dint of hard travelling, before
the next night; and one was sent forward on the
fleetest horse they had, to require their friends to
come and assist them, in case they should be
overtaken.

The darkness for some time prevented the besiegers
from discovering the trick that had been
put upon them; and when they did find it out,
they could not see which way the enemy was
gone. Notwithstanding their anger, they were
compelled to wait till dawn before they could
discern the traces of the retreat. Yet they vented
their wrath in some degree upon the goods
and chattels the fugitives had left behind. When
day at last broke, they mounted and made haste
to pursue.

About noon they overtook the enemy, and attacked
with greater advantage than before. Then
were heard the cries of hate and wrath, of triumph
and defiance; the screams of women and children,
and the groans of the wounded; the wounded
females we mean, for the men died like
wolves, fighting to the last gasp without noise or
complaint. The warriors placed their wives and
infants in the centre, and kept the foe off by strenuous
exertion and hard riding, such exertion as
Indians only are capable of, when roused from
their habitual apathy. Still they retreated.

Nahpay Tunkah was the first man who fell. It so
chanced that the woman who had been the cause
of all this evil received an arrow in her neck and
fell from her horse. Though not mortally hurt,
the cavalcade could not stop for her. She called
on her paramour for aid, and in spite of the remonstrances
of his friends, he was obedient to her
voice. His brethren in arms saw him die; his
life blood flowing from twenty wounds. Deeds
of valor were done, worthy to be recorded in better
language than our own. The weaker side
had the worse. The arrow, the spear, and the
war club, made fearful havoc among them.
Twentyseven of their best men had fallen; most
of the survivors were wounded, and their horses
were thoroughly jaded, when a band appeared
coming at full speed to their relief. It was the
party which their messenger had apprised of their
peril, and it arrived just in time to prevent their
total extermination. On its appearance, the
avengers of the family of Weeteeko desisted from
the work of death, and rode away to avoid coming
to blows with fresh warriors. They were
not pursued. The sufferers pursued their way
and entered the camp in company with those
who had come to their rescue.

This blow was felt by the whole tribe. Scarcely
an individual in it but was in some degree
connected with the slain, on one side or the
other. Fasting, mourning, and medicine dances
became the order of the day. When these observances
ceased a war party of the friends and
relations of Naphay Tunkah and Khotah Way

assembled to revenge the injury their families had
sustained. And they amply retaliated on the adverse
division of the nation. The feud was not
to be staunched. Wrong succeeded to wrong,
and battle to battle. Gradually the whole Dahcotah
people took part in the strife, and finally,
those who had espoused the cause of the Siou
Helen were worsted. Then leaving their former
hunting grounds, they roamed the prairies between
the Missouri and the Saskatchawayn, and so they
continue to do to this day. They are called by
the legitimate Dahcotahs, Hohays, but are better
known by the title of Assinneboins. They are the
most primitive Indians we have seen in our
travels and excursions. The war begun as above
related continued till eighteen hundred twenty,
when a peace was made between the belligerents.

The Hohays are seldom seen without arms in
their hands, whether in peace or war. They are
desperate robbers and expert horse thieves, and
keep no measures with any people of whom they
are not in fear. They have little intercourse with
the whites, and they still retain their ancient manners;
using the same saddles, earthen pots, dress,
and implements of war, as of old. Heaven grant
that none of our readers may ever come in contact
with them.