University of Virginia Library

PINCHON.

1. PART I.

Antoine Pinchon was one of the first traders
who pushed their fortunes among the Dahcotahs.
At that time the Indian trade was profitable.
Packs of beaver could then be obtained more easily
than single skins now. Buffaloes and deer
abounded, and muskrats and martins were as
plenty as mice. The times have changed: the
buffalo has receded hundreds of miles; a beaver
is a curiosity to a Dahcotah, and the best hunter
finds it difficult to collect a pack of rats in a season.
Yet it was not the thirst of gain that drew

Pinchon into the country; but the love of adventure
and excitement, acting upon his mind, as
nettles might have operated on his flesh.

He was born near Montreal, of parents of pure
Norman descent. In his childhood, no rod, no reproof,
could restrain him from the exercise of his
own free will. If he did not learn to read and
write, it was not wholly his fault, for his father
was a true Canadian, and held such Yankee notions
as schools in religious abhorrence. As the
youth grew in stature, he grew in iniquity also:
he was a rough rider of races on Sundays, between
mass and vespers; the first at the cabaret,
and the last out of it, and by the time he was
twenty he was the dreaded bully of the whole
seigneurie, and had qualified himself for the gallies,
or even the gallows. Totally ignorant;
scarcely knowing right from wrong; not a day
passed in which he did not make his father's heart
ache. An intrigue with a damsel, toward whom
he stood within the prohibited degrees of affinity,
finally determined his parents to get rid of him,
before worse came of it.

Among his comrades and boon companions,
the voyageurs returned from the frozen north and
northwest, stood highest in his esteem. The blue
capot, with the capuchon negligently thrown back,
the garnished moccasins, and the bright sash, the
usual costume of the coureurs des bois, were certain
passports to his good will. With these hardy
travellers he loved to talk, and still better to drink,
while their speech was of the wonders they had

and had not seen. He was never weary of hearing
them dilate upon

For such tales would he exchange his time
and coin; and he had long resolved to become
one of the class he so much admired.

He was therefore delighted, when his father,
after a long lecture, during which he yawned most
irreverently, proposed to him, as a last chance of
amendment, to engage with M. Louis Provencal,
who wanted men to winter with him on the river
St Peters. He acceded to the proposal without
hesitation, and accompanied his parent to the trader's
lodgings, and was straightway hired at five
hundred livres per annum.[79]

We do not hold up this worthy as an object of
admiration, nor do we ask that he should even be
pitied; but as the story of his fortunes may aid
our purpose to elucidate Indian manners and character,
we have thought fit to communicate them
to the world.

Had we the pen of Plutarch, or the greater Sir
Walter, we see no reason why the exploits of the
hero, or rather scoundrel of our story, should not
be as much admired as the feats of Romulus, or
Rob Roy, or indeed any ruffian and robber of ancient
or modern times.

To return to our argument: after receiving the
benediction of his father, and what he valued

more, a small purse of coined silver, stamped
with the effigies of the most puissant Louis, Pinchon
embarked with six of his compeers on board
M. Provencal's boat, and they left the quay singing
the air from which Mr Moore took the hint
of that elegant misnomer, `The Canadian Boat
Song.' Thus did the ditty run.

They soon reached `Utawa's tide,' and as long
as they were in the vicinity of the settlements, the
bourgeois allowed his men to stop at pleasure,
and fed them well with pork and beans, but once
in the wilderness, there was an end to this treatment.
They now only stopped at the end of the
pipe or league [65] and their food was hard Indian
corn and tallow, a quart of one and an ounce of
the other, per diem. Yet upon this fodder, they
retained their health and spirits. As nothing important
occurred in this stage of the journey, we
shall not pretend to give an account of it. It
may not be amiss, though, to state, that before the
boat reached the portage at Lake Nipissing,
Pinchon had fought and beaten every man in the
company, M. Provencal excepted.

They coasted the northern shore of lake Huron,
sometimes getting nearly out of sight of land,
and crossing from one island to another, setting

the sail when the wind was fair, and plying the
oars when it failed. On one occasion the courage
and presence of mind of our hero saved the
boat, and the lives of all on board. The boat was
going steadily before a fresh breeze, about four
leagues from shore, when it struck upon a sunken
reef of rocks. A hole, big enough to have sunk
a first rate, was beaten in its bottom, yet it rubbed
heavily over, and got clear. The water rushed
in fearfully, yet five of the boatmen, as well as
the bourgeois, instead of exerting themselves for
her relief, betook themselves to their patron saints
for succor. Joe Le Duc, the steersman, almost,
if not altogether as great a reprobate as Pinchon,
was not so absurd, yet he dared not let go the
helm, as the boat might have broached to in the
swell. He called to our hero to thrust his bedding
into the hole, and his voice was heard, and
promptly obeyed. Pinchon stuffed three blankets
into the leak which was about to let in fate,
and called to the rest to keep the boat free, with
bowls and platters. `Les sacrés coquins!' said
he to Le Duc, `as if God or the saints would
help fools and cowards!' The water was kept
under till they reached an island, under the lee of
which the boat was unladen, hauled ashore, and
repaired.

They crossed the head of Lake Michigan, and
traversing the opaque waters of Green Bay, arrived
at the rapids of Fox river. Here Pinchon demanded
of M. Provencal, that his wages should
be put on an equality with those of the old hands,
in consideration of his superior strength and usefulness.

He had carried burthens, he said, at the
several portages, of double the weight the rest
could endure, and he had walked in the rapids
and pushed the boat, where they had been unable
to stand. If the bourgeois did not think proper
to comply, he declared that he would desert, and
find his way back to Macinac as he might. Rather
than lose so valuable a hand, M. Provencal
yielded, though the demand was mutinous, and
without a precedent.

Arrived at the eastern end of Winnebago Lake,
the boat was prevented from crossing by a head
wind. It was now the latter part of September, and
they had ample time to admire this beautiful sheet
of water, as it lay embosomed between its lovely
shores, and covered with ducks, geese, and countless
flocks of snow white swans and pelicans.
Their attention was, however, withdrawn from these
things, by the arrival of three hundred savages in
their war paint; the inhabitants of the neighboring
Winnebago village. They swarmed about the boat,
and were clamorous for the accustomed tribute,
paid by traders on passing the lake, and seemed
much disposed to help themselves. M. Provencal
gave them something, but they were not satisfied
with his liberality. The plunder of the boat
seemed inevitable, and it was more than probable
that the extermination of the crew would follow.

At this moment, Pinchon coolly asked M. Provencal
if he wished him to save his boat, and as
he stood irresolute, resolved to do that service,
whether it was desired or not. Chippeway is the
court language of all the northwestern tribes east

of the Mississippi, and most of these unwelcome
visitors understood it. So did Le Duc, who had
wintered three times at Lake Superior. Our hero
desired him to ask the Winnebagoes what they
wanted, and the reply was, gunpowder. To
work he went, and having placed all the powder
kegs in the centre of the boat, in the midst of the
cases of bullets, he told Le Duc to desire them to
draw near. They came to him; some producing
their powder horns, others their calico shirts,
and in short, everything that might contain the
nitre. `Now, Le Duc,' said Pinchon, raising his
voice, `tell them to let their bravest man come
forward, and take what he wants. Tell them that
he who puts his hand on anything here, does it
at his peril. With these words he knocked in the
head of one of the kegs, cocked his gun, and buried
its muzzle in the powder.

His words were not understood by the Indians,
but his motions were. In an instant all was outcry
and confusion: never was such a rout seen.
Those who sat on the boat plunged overboard, as
did those alongside. They dived, and swam
away, faster than Indians ever swam before or
since. Those on shore fled on the wings of terror.
Let them not, however, be branded with
cowardice. Not many of these people would
have shrunk from death, if duly warned. But
the shock was too sudden for their nerves. Indeed,
it must be allowed that to scale the skies
mounted on a fiery dragon can be no very pleasing
prospect to any one. The Indians gained

their village with all possible expedition, and no
more was seen of them.

The wind fell with the sun, and the boat proceeded.
From that day a warm friendship between
Le Duc and Pinchon took its date. Similarity of
disposition and natural gifts cemented it. M.
Provencal rued the day he had enlisted the one
or the other; for they not only tyrannized over
the men, but gained the ascendency over him.
They leagued together for every kind of mischief,
treated him with contempt, and would only obey
his orders when they tallied with their own inclinations.

To return: the party proceeded onward, passed
the portage, descended the Wisconsin and
ascended the Mississippi to the Grand Encampment.
Here they found a great body of Dahcotahs
assembled. These had, though so early in
the season, so large a quantity of furs, that M.
Provencal thought it worth his while to stop and
collect them. This could not be done without
considerable delay, as the ownership of the skins
was to be decided by a race, upon the result of
which the greater part of them were staked, and
the competitors had not all arrived.

Here, then, they remained two days, gambling,
fishing, and shooting ducks and geese. The
third morning the drum beat, and the racers, all
active men, prepared for the trial. This was done
by stripping to the skin, and rubbing their limbs
with bears' oil. Never have so many manly and
symmetrical forms been seen in any other part of
the world. Yet here it excited no attention.

Beauty of figure is so common among the Dahcotahs,
that the absence of it would be the wonder.

About two miles distant, the post was set up.
The racers were to touch it, turn, and return to
the place from whence they started; where they
were to touch another post. The wagers on the
race were many. When all was nearly ready,
an old man approached with a pack of beaver on
his back, followed by his son, to where the whites
were standing; and asked if any of them were
disposed to try their speed. The challenger was
a Yankton, and his boy was the swiftest runner in
that sept. They had come all the way from Lac
au Travers to try if any of the Munday Wawkantons
(People of the Lake) might compete with
those of the prairies. Le Duc brought his gun,
and then untied the pack of furs. Taking out
ten of the best skins, he laid them by the side of
the fowling piece, and told the ancient that he
was willing to run with his son on that wager.
The Yankton smiled, and selecting ten more of
his beaver added them to his stake, telling the
Canadian that the bet should stand so. The
stakes were put into the hands of M. Provencal:
Le Duc stripped, and took his place beside his
challenger in the line of racers.

An elder gave the signal for starting, by dropping
a French flag from the end of a pole. Then
were heard screams of delight from the women,
as their sons, husbands, or lovers gained in the
contest. The old men shouted, excited to the
last degree, and the dogs howled; some of them

followed their masters, and getting between the
legs of the runners, entangled and threw them
down, but none appeared to mind it; they rose
again and strained every nerve to regain the lost
ground.

At the first start, several ran abreast, and it
was difficult to say which, of half a dozen, had the
advantage. After the first half mile, the young
Yankton was ahead, Le Duc breathing on his
shoulder. The Indian exerted himself to the utmost
for the honor of his band, conscious that the
eyes of all were upon him. He gained the post
first, seized it with his left hand, swung himself
lightly round, and traced his course backward.

But he had put forth his power too soon, and
before he had run over half the ground from the
distance post, it was observed that his speed
slackened. Le Duc now ran abreast with him,
trying to increase his confusion by asking him if
a Yankton could run no faster, and the like taunts.
When within three hundred yards of the goal,
the white man darted ahead and came bounding
to the end of the course like a race horse, leaving
the Indian fifteen paces behind him.

The others arrived in quick succession, and
the stakes were given up to the winners. The
Yankton took the whole pack from which the beaver
had been drawn, and laying it at the feet of Le
Duc, said, `I was never outrun before; and I did
not think there was a man alive could do it. Take
all my furs, for you have won them fairly.'

But to show that there were some things in

which he could outdo all the white men that ever
lived, he seized his bow and quiver. Sending the
first arrow into the air, he loosened ten more from
the string before the first touched the ground;
and he looked at Le Duc, as who should say,
`beat that if you can.'

Pinchon demanded what the Indian had said,
and being informed, cried, `tell him, Le Duc,
that there are two men living who can beat him.
If he accepts the challenge, give him back his beaver,
and I will put my gun against them, and run
with him tomorrow morning, as soon as he gets
rested.'

These words being interpreted, the young savage
looked inquiringly at his father, who in his
turn looked at Pinchon, and said, `he is too big
to run well.' The youth then accepted the defiance,
and proposed to start instantly, declaring
that he was not at all fatigued. Pinchon would
not believe it, and persisted in remaining tranquil
till the next day.

On the morrow, the same spectators who had
witnessed the first race assembled to behold the
second. Pinchon demanded four guns of M.
Provencal, and having obtained them, appeared
on the ground. The savages asked what he
meant to do, and when he declared that he intended
to run with the guns on his shoulders, a
general burst of laughter proclaimed their utter
scorn of his presumption. Le Duc too, entreated
him to lay aside all thoughts of such a contest,
but Pinchon desired him to mind his own affairs.

Without stripping, and with two guns on each

shoulder,[66] he started, and beat his rival with
even more ease than Le Duc had done. The
laughing was now on the other side. The mortified
Yankton looked around, expecting another
white man to come forward to dispute the
honors of the race with him. He stood sullen,
with his hand on the handle of his knife, prepared
to plunge it in the body of any that should offer.
No one thought of the thing, and he vented his
disappointment in words, which, luckily for him
and all concerned, Pinchon did not comprehend.

When M. Provencal had made the most of his
market, the boat moved up the river, and in due
time arrived at Rocher Blanc, on the St Peters,
where the voyageurs erected buildings for the
winter. In the course of the season Pinchon acquired
enough of the Sioux tongue for common
purposes, and learned all the tricks of the Indian
trade to perfection. Nothing worth recording
happened at the station; but towards the spring,
our hero and his friend, judging from the deportment
of M. Provencal, that he intended to withhold
their wages, and conscious that their behaviour
had deserved it, burst into his apartment one
day when all the rest were absent. Holding a
cocked pistol to his breast, Pinchon compelled him
to write and sign a certificate that they were the
two best men he ever had under him, as also a
document recommending Pinchon, as a person
deserving the trust and confidence of all persons
concerned in the Indian trade; and also competent
to manage an outfit. Possessed of these
papers, the friends stole a canoe and deserted;

leaving their wives; for they had not failed to take
unto themselves wives, to console themselves as
they might. They soon reached old Michilimacinac,
subsisting themselves on the way by their guns.
On the strength of M. Provencal's recommendation,
M. La Salle, the superintendent of the depot,
furnished Pinchon with an assortment of Indian
goods, a boat, and men to take it into the
Indian country. Le Duc was also engaged as
an interpreter, with a handsome salary.

Yet he could not depart from Michilimacinac
without playing a prank that had nearly deprived
him of the fruits of his villany. In spite of the
remonstrances of his interpreter, he resolved to
personate a priest who was expected from Montreal.
Having procured a cassock, he caused it
to be given out that the Reverend M. Badin had
arrived; as indeed, he was expected before night.
In his disguise our hero heard the confessions of
all the voyageurs who were not in the secret. He
possessed himself of their private histories, assigned
them penance and received fees. Yet
was he not content without playing a practical
joke on the priest himself.

There was in the settlement a mangeur de lard,
or pork eater, as the raw engagés are called, just
arrived from Quebec. This poor fellow, as ignorant
as his class in general, and being naturally
none of the brightest, applied to the confessional
of the supposed clergyman. The sham apostle
magnified some peccadilloes that he confessed into
mortal sins, and read him a sharp and severe
lecture. This edifying discourse he seasoned

with scraps of Latin, which he had picked up at
mass, and which sunk the deeper into the penitent's
mind that he did not comprehend a syllable
of them. Finally addressing the simpleton by
the title of `vile sinner,' he allotted him a penance.
It was to go into the fur magazine, and
sit on the top of the packs till midnight. While
there, Pinchon told him that the devil would appear,
in the disguise of a priest, and entice him to
come down. `But mind, my son,' said Pinchon,
`that you do not consent; for if you do, you will
be torn to pieces.' The fellow assured him that
no consideration should induce him to descend,
and having received his blessing, departed. In
the evening, the real Simon Pure, the true priest,
arrived. Having divested himself of his disguise,
Pinchon called on him, paid his respects, and informed
him that there was a man in the fur store,
who appeared to be troubled in mind on account
of his sins, and it was feared that he would lay
violent hands on himself. Very willing to do a
good action, M. Badin repaired to the spot. At
the sight of him the pork eater trembled from
head to foot, and his hair bristled upright. The
following dialogue ensued.

M. Badin. What is the matter, my good
friend? Do you not know me?

Voyageur. Ye—yes. I know y—you—we—
well enough. God be merciful un—unto me a
sinner! For my sins, I—I know you.

M. Bad. If you know me, come down, and
tell me what ails you.

Voy. No, no. I know better than that.

Good M. Badin told me what to do—blessings on
him!

M. Bad. Why, my good man, my name is
Badin; I am sure I never told you anything.

Voy. Ay, ay, just so. I was told how it
would be. Bah! how hot it is. How he smells
of brimstone.

M. Bad. Is the man mad? Do you smell
brimstone already? come down; put yourself into
my hands, and it may be, that I can save you
from it.

Voy. Put myself into your hands! No doubt
you would be glad to carry me off, but I don't
choose such company. Come down—thank you,
Monsieur Devil, as much as if I did. They call
me a fool; but I'm not so simple as that, neither.
Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis!

M. Bad. Come down you wretch; I lose all
patience with you. Do you call a servant of the
Holy Catholic Church a devil! Come down, I
say; come down.

Voy., crossing himself. St Thomas be good
to me! St Peter hear me! Pray, sir, if it is not
too much trouble, let me see your foot.

M. Bad., holding out his foot. There is my
foot, you foolish fellow; what do you want to see
it for?

Voy. The cloven hoof may be concealed in
that leather, as the tail is under the cassock, no
doubt. Please to take off your boot and stocking.

M. Bad., pulling off his boots. There, wretch,
are both my feet. Do you take me for the Devil

still, you irreverent knave? Will you come
down?

Voy. No, I will not, if you stay there till
morning. The long and the short of it is, Monsieur
Satan, I know you, and I will not be persuaded.
So you may as well be off, for here I
am resolved to stay. O, for a little holy water to
throw upon you.

M. Bad. Then I'll fetch you down.

Voy., seizing a fish spear. Avaunt! Mount
not here, at your peril. Stand off, I say. In the
name of our Saviour, stand off.

Finding his skull impenetrable, M. Badin left
him to the enjoyment of his imaginary triumph.
A short inquiry served to explain the matter.
The other voyageurs who had been tricked, had
discovered who the rogue that had tricked them
of their money was. Some laughed, but more
were highly indignant at the deception. M. La
Salle, a strict and pious Catholic, was greatly
scandalized at this treatment of all he held sacred,
and he told M. Badin he would deprive Pinchon
of the outfit he had furnished, being convinced
that heaven would never prosper the labors of
such a sacrilegious wretch. With this sentiment
the priest agreed, but it had been better, not expressed
so loudly. Joe Le Duc was passing under
the window, and hearing the name of his comrade,
stopped to listen, and learned the intention of the
superintendent, which he immediately communicated
to Pinchon. The wind being fair, that
gentleman assembled his men, embarked, and set
sail. Six days carried him to the foot of Winnebago

lake. The Indians here waited upon him
with every demonstration of respect, and if they
remembered the experiment he had made on
their courage the season before, it was to his advantage.

As to the Mangeur de Lard, on whom he had
inflicted so whimsical a penance, the fright threw
him into a fever and delirium, in which he raved
of Satan and Monsieur Badin. When he at last
recovered, he could never be persuaded that he
had not seen his infernal majesty; nor could he
ever after look upon M. Badin without shuddering.

In less than a month Pinchon arrived at Lake
Pepin and set up his winter quarters at Point
aux Sables. He gave out the greater part of his
goods, as is common in the Indian trade, to different
savages, on credit; for which he was to receive
payment in the spring, when their hunt
should be over. Le Duc kept his accounts.
They sent for their wives, but did not long keep
them, for they put them away and took others;
according to the custom of Indian traders, before
and since; caring little what might become of
the children that had been born unto them in
their absence. This was repeated several times
in the course of the winter, for Indians are very
willing to give their daughters to white men,
knowing that they will not be compelled to labor.
The time did not hang heavy on their hands, for
they spent it in gaming, fishing, hunting the deer,
and other amusements of a wintering ground.

2. PART II.

M. Provencal arrived at the lake a short time
after Pinchon, and passing his house without stopping,
proceeded to the mouth of the river St
Croix, where he intended to winter. Here he
stationed himself, doing Pinchon all the damage
he could; visiting the camps where his debtors
were hunting, and trying his best to persuade them
to dishonesty, in which he was frequently successful.
Pinchon retaliated in kind, and these
worthies used their liquor freely to corrupt the
Indians; both well knowing that they might be
bribed to any act of knavery or outrage, by such
means. This is the real operation of alcohol, in
its various forms, upon the remote tribes; they
do not get enough to do them any physical injury,
but in the way it is used, it weakens or destroys
the moral principle in their breasts.

As it happened, it was so used by M. Provencal,
as to render Pinchon very unpopular with the
Sioux. One of his debtors had been seduced

to defraud him, and sell the produce of his
chase of Provencal. In an evil hour for the unhappy
savage, he went to the house of his injured
creditor, arrayed in all his ill gotten finery. Pinchon
had heard of his behavior, and when he appeared
before him in a new white blanket, with
scarlet leggins, and his ears stretched with the
weight of their silver ornaments, the Frenchman
could scarce suppress his wrath. He however
curbed his temper long enough to ask the Indian
what he had done with the produce of his hunt.

`I had so few furs,' he replied, `that I was
ashamed to bring them to you; I therefore sold
them to the Wopayton (trader) up the river.'

`You are a dog,' said Pinchon. `You are
worse than a dog. The blanket you have on, belongs
to me, and so does everything about you.
You bought them with my beaver. I care not for
the value, as you shall presently see; but I will
not be so treated.' So speaking, he tore the
blanket from his back, and cast it into the fire,
holding it down with his foot, till it was utterly
spoiled. The savage saw it consume with a smile
of bitter contempt, and said, `the Frenchman
loved his goods too well; his heart was hurt by
little things.' Had he held his peace, it had been
better for him; for Pinchon, enraged at his coolness,
seized him with the grasp of a giant, and
wresting from him the knife he had drawn to defend
himself, cut off both his ears with it, close to
his head, ear-rings and all. Holding the silver
up before his eyes, he upbraided him with his
knavery, and then sent them after the blanket.

When he had in some degree assuaged his choler,
he thrust the man, to whom he had shown
so little mercy, out of doors, with insult and violence.

Le Duc, who, ruffian as he was, was of milder
mood than his principal, blamed Pinchon for this
outrage in no measured terms. He told him, that
he should not be surprised if he should lose all the
debts due him, in consequence. He replied, that
he cared not; he would never submit to insult,
even if he lost his life, as well as his goods, for
resenting it.

The next day, the band among whom he had
trusted his goods, arrived in their canoes, and encamped
beside his house. They were, most of
them, related to the sufferer of the day before.
He presented himself in their lodges, and related
how he had been treated; declaring that he would
kill Pinchon the first opportunity. The ideas of
the aborigines concerning property are not very
strict, and they were moved with indignation that
one man should have the heart to mutilate and
disgrace another, for the paltry consideration of a
few beaver skins. They attributed the conduct
of Pinchon to avarice, and grief at losing his merchandize.
With one accord they determined not
to pay him. They were resolved, furthermore,
to get what they could from him, and then leave
him to bite his nails. Such is Indian revenge;
seldom, unless in extreme cases, visited on the
person of the offender, but commonly on his property.
On this occasion, had Pinchon been possessed
of a horse, or a dog, it would have been

shot. They would have destroyed his boat, but
that they were sure from his weak heart, or in
other words, his violent temper, it would cost whoever
should attempt it his life.

It is, or it was, customary for Indian traders to
give the savages a small quantity of liquor, when
they came to pay their debts. The savages, on
the present occasion, thronged about the house of
Pinchon, and requested the performance of what
they considered a duty on his part. He gave
them each a dram, and promised more, when the
furs should be delivered. They insisted on having
it then, and he refused as positively. Finally,
after much vain importunity, they went off, declaring
they would pay him nothing; no, not so
much as the skin of a muskrat.

`A pretty mess of pottage you have cooked for
your own table!' said Le Duc. `You will lose
the whole outfit, and it will never do for us to go
back to Macinac. If you had let that fellow's
ears alone, you might have filled the boat with
beaver. Now, all is lost.'

`Be not troubled, Joe. I will punish the villains
for their insolence, and fill the boat to your
satisfaction besides.'

`Despardieux! talk not of violence, or punishment.
We have had enough of that already. It
is doubtful if we escape with our lives. Do not
make matters worse.'

`You are a fool, Joe. Let me alone, and I
will set matters right.'

Confiding in the fear with which his courage
and great strength had inspired the Indians, he

took an axe, and going to the beach, demolished
every one of their canoes, so that it was impossible
for them to depart as they had threatened.
Had this been attempted by another, death would
have been the consequence. As it was, the women
cried, `ishtah! eenah, enah, eenomah!' and
the men looked on, declaring that the Great Spirit
had made him mad, but no one offered to interfere.
This object effected, he returned to the
house.

The morning before, he had killed a deer, and
the carcass still hung entire in his store room.
He pulled it down, and cut the flesh into small
pieces, which he put into a large kettle and hung
over the fire. When the meat was cooked, he
emptied it into a great wooden bowl, and ordered
all his people to quit the house. They obeyed
without question, for they saw that his mood was
dangerous. He then enveloped himself in a buffalo
robe, and sallied forth, holding the bowl over
his head.

He bent his steps toward the encampment,
passed through it, and turned back, calling the
dogs as he went along. Some three or four bundred
of these animals, attracted by his cries, and
the smell of the venison, followed him. The savages
left the feast untouched, and came out of
their lodges to look upon him. They spoke to
him, asking what he was about, but he deigned
no answer. They now believed him mad in earnest,
and the looks of anger and hate which had
been bent on him a few minutes before, changed
to respect and admiration. (2) He proceeded to

the house, entered it, and when all the dogs had
followed him in, shut the door upon himself and
them. Then he scattered the meat among the
animals, and sitting down, covered his whole person
with the buffalo robe. The dogs, as he had
expected, fell to fighting. The walls shook with
the noise. Growling, snarling, and cries of pain
mingled together, and the roof seemed about to
escape from the hubbub.

If the Dahcotahs had been astonished at first,
they were now still more so. They demanded
the reasons of his conduct of Le Duc and the
men, but they could give no information. One of
the elders went to the door and cried with a loud
voice, `What are you doing, Tahkoo Kokeepishnay?
(he who fears nothing.) Are you mad, or
what is the meaning of all this?'

This was precisely the question he had wished
to elicit. He replied, `Go away, and leave me
quiet. I am onsheekah, and you have made me
so. You have been feasting with your comrades,
and shall I not do the same with mine? I am a
dog, and with dogs will I abide.'

This was touching them in the most sensitive
point. Without stooping to entreaty, he had made
it incumbent on them to pay him immediately.
He had put himself below them in the scale of
being. He had declared himself on a level with
dogs; and was it for them to afflict or injure so
wretched a being? No; they ran to the lodges,
and all; men, women, and children, joining in the
work, they brought their furs, and piled them up
before his door. When they had finished, he

came out and liberated their dogs. He was immediately
carried to the camp and feasted, and
the hand of friendship was tendered to him.

`What do you think of it now, Joe?' said he,
as he returned from the camp.

`Think? I scarcely know what to think,' replied
Le Duc. `I think that you are the devil, or that
he helps you.'

`I told you I would load the boat, and punish
them!'

`You have done both. Let me look at you
again. Nomme de Dieu! who would have thought
of such a thing? I never should, I am sure.'

The boat was laden, and rowed away, before
the dispositions of the Indians had time to change.
When it arrived at Michilimacinac, it was acknowledged
by all, that such a cargo of furs had
not been brought thither for years. He went and
confessed to M. Badin, obtained absolution, and
M. La Salle gave him another outfit.

The insults he supposed he had received from
the Sioux, rankled in his mind, which retained its
impressions like brass. He therefore resolved to
be revenged on them, and to that effect ascended
the Sault de St Marie, and coasted the south
shore of Lake Superior, to Burnt Wood River,
where he set up his Ebenezer for the season, and
took a wife of the daughters of the Chippeway
tribe, as did his friend and comrade, Le Duc.
He gave out his goods on credit, as usual, and sat
down to enjoy himself.

Shortly after, Wawbiskah, (The White) who
had lost a son by the hands of the Nahtooessies, [67]

stung with the desire of revenge, blacked his face,
and caused a temporary lodge to be erected in
the midst of his camp. Having communicated
his intentions to Pinchon, that good Catholic
cheerfully gave him a yard of scarlet to hang up
in the midst, and informed the chief that he intended
to consider himself a Chippeway for the
time being, for which he obtained much applause.
Wawbiskah then entered the lodge, and having
cut some tobacco, filled his pipe and smoked.

The Frenchman, being first instructed by Le
Duc how to behave, followed Wawbiskah into the
lodge. He drew the scarlet through his left hand,
sat down, and smoked some of the tobacco already
prepared. Others, Chippeways, followed his example,
and they began to tell their dreams to
each other. Wawbiskah had dreamed that he
had shot a deer, and when he approached the carcass,
it proved to be that of a Siou. The dreams
of all the party were favorable to the projected
enterprise. Pinchon declared that he had dreamed
of driving the whole Siou tribe into an enclosure,
and destroying them like rats in a trap. As
a reward for his visions, Wawbiskah said no
person was so fitting as him to carry the great
medicine bag. [68] This was a sack, filled with
feathers, bones, skins of rattle-snakes, &c. Then
the whole party, twentythree in number, repaired
to Wawbiskah's lodge, where a feast of dog's
flesh was provided. After the animal was demolished,
a kind of kettle drum was beaten by
the chief, who accompanied the music with his

voice, the whole party joining in chorus. The
words of the song might be something like this:

`Master of Life! look down on thy children,
who have suffered wrong at the hands of the Natooessies,
and are now about to avenge it.

`Master of Life! prosper our enterprise; let
us not be seen by the enemy, and defend us from
evil spirits.

`Master of Breath! return us safe to our wives
and children, that they may eat venison and fat
bear's meat, and let us take many scalps.'

The partizan then rose, and standing erect in
the midst, drew his blanket around him with great
dignity, and addressed his intended followers with
emphasis and energy. `They were now,' he said,
`to set their feet on the enemies' territory. The
Great Spirit had approved their enterprise, and
had promised to deliver their foes an easy prey
into their hands, even as a salmon trout into the
hands of the fisher. They were to slay the Natooessies,
or lead them captive, and compel them
to hew wood and draw water. If there were any
present who would not believe the express words
of the Almighty, now was the time for them to
recede. He wished no such company. The
Great Spirit had granted them an unusual favor,
in giving them a white man to assist their councils
with his wisdom; and to him an important
trust was confided. Wherefore, he exhorted them
to fear no evil, but to go on in full confidence of
success.' At the conclusion of each period, a
unanimous guttural sound of applause ensued, and
at the conclusion, they all cried, `That is it. That

is right.' In the morning of the morrow, they set
forth, in Indian file, Wawbiskah taking the lead.
For the first three days, they travelled without
much precaution, conversing by day, and sleeping
by fires at night. Their provision for the journey
was parched corn, and maple sugar, and such
small game as they could strike with arrows.
This was not much, for the use of these weapons
had already fallen into desuetade among the
Chippeways. Pinchon, painted and accoutred
like an Indian, carried the great medicine bag,
parting with it neither by night nor day. Not that
he attached any importance to its presence or
preservation, but he knew that if any accident
befel it, the whole party would turn back.

On the fifth day, they entered the frontier of
the Siou hunting grounds. All idle conversation
was prohibited; the chief marched several furlongs
ahead, observing the way before him. Towards
night, they fell in with a track in the snow,
and instantly stopped, smoked, and consulted. It
was agreed by all to go no farther, and they slept
in a small thicket, without a fire.

In the morning, two declared that they had
dreamed unfavorable dreams, and were resolved
to return. Their sentiments excited neither surprise
nor remark. They departed on their way
homeward, and the rest proceeded. Following
the track seen the preceding evening, it brought
them to the river St Croix, and they fell upon
a broad trail, which, by indications well known to
all Indians, they ascertained to have been made
by the passage of two lodges of Sioux. They

perceived in the snow the tracks of four men, and
thirteen women and children, the usual proportion
of hunters to the helpless classes of aboriginal population.

Scouts now went ahead and surveyed the route.
The party moved with the utmost caution, making
slow progress. Thus they went on two days.
Late in the second afternoon, Wawbiskah came
back at full speed, and announced to the main
body, that he heard the enemy's drums at a distance.
In fact, the Sioux had made a good hunt,
and were now holding a feast, which was destined
to be fatal to them, as it had hindered them from
going abroad and discovering their enemies.

As the aborigines take no measure without
smoking, the Chippeways stopped, and lit their
pipes. Their measures were carefully debated.
Pinchon gave his voice for moving on, and attacking
immediately; but this was a degree of temerity
his companions did not approve. They might
lose two or three men by adopting his counsel.
He was overruled by the advice of Wawbiskah,
who said it was better to remain where they were
till nightfall, and then to approach, and attack just
before daybreak.

When the shades fell, the moon shone forth in
unclouded brightness, and the Chippeways slowly
and cautiously approached the Siou camp. Towards
midnight, the sky became overclouded, and
the chief proposed, in whispers, that some one
should reconnoitre the enemy, and ascertain how,
and where, the men lay, that the first volley might
be conclusive. None of the Indians appearing

willing to undertake this service, Pinchon volunteered
to perform it. Availing himself of the cover
of the trees, he advanced upon his slumbering
victims, and when within hearing, he threw himself
on all fours, encumbered as he was with the
medicine bag, and crept onward, as the setting-dog
steals upon the partridge. He heard no voices,
yet he crawled round the lodges, till he was
satisfied that all were fast in their last sleep. He
was mistaken, however. Just as he rose to depart,
he heard some one stir, and a man came
out, and stood before him. While he was hastily
revolving in his mind the means to escape without
giving the alarm, the Siou spoke. `Where
are you going?' said he. `Are you on the same
errand as myself?'

`The moment he spoke, Pinchon discovered,
by the tone of his voice, that he was the identical
Dahcotah whose ears he had cut off the preceding
spring. The question was answered with a
stab, which reached the heart. The Siou fell,
without a groan, into a snowdrift, which received
him without betraying his fall. The white savage
took off his scalp, and rejoined his congenial comrades.

When the first approaches of daylight were
seen in the east, the Chippeways approached the
lodges, with such caution that they were not discovered.
Lying prostrate, they levelled their
guns parallel with the earth, and discharged a volley,
which killed and wounded half the inmates,
the three men among the others. Then, rising to
their feet, the valley echoed with the terrific notes

of the war-whoop. The lodges were instantaneously
prostrated, and their shrieking tenants discovered.

By right of having taken the first scalp, our
hero [69] led the van of the party on its return, and
entered the camp at its head. Le Duc had so
managed the trade in his absence, that his interest
had not suffered, and the result of his conduct was
to his temporal advantage.

Shortly after, the savages removed from the
vicinity of his house, leaving but three lodges. It
so chanced that the Dahcotahs soon learned the
damage they had sustained, and resolved to retaliate.
A party of seventeen took the war path,
and after a journey that we need not describe,
arrived at the Burnt Wood River, where they fell
upon tracks leading to Pinchon's house. While
preparing for the attack, a Chippeway, who had
been benighted in the chase, discovered them, as
he returned. He threw down the deer he carried
on his back, and gave the alarm. The Indians
rose, as well as their trader and his interpreter.
The Dahcotahs, burning with rage at the
death of their kindred, (for they were all of the
same family) and seeing that the Chippeways only
counted five men, attacked instantly. The latter,
posted behind the trees, and seconded by their
white allies, maintained the combat resolutely,
while their women loaded their canoes, in order
to cross the river. The battle was, like most other
Indian battles, conducted with too much circumspection

to be very bloody. Yet ere morning
broke, five of the assailants, and one of the Chippeways,
had fallen. Two more were wounded,
as were Le Duc and Pinchon. When the light
increased, so that the features of the contending
parties were visible to each other, the Sioux discovered
that our two friends were among their
enemies. Their anger was extreme. These men
had eaten their bread, married among them, and
had children in their lodges. They renewed the
conflict with redoubled fury, pressing on at all
points. By this time, the helpless, the aged, and
the five voyageurs of the establishment, were out
of danger. The Indians prepared to follow, in
the single canoe they had left behind, and
entreated the whites to accompany them. Pinchon,
now in his element, positively refused to
leave his house to be plundered and burned, and
for once, Le Duc agreed with him. They covered
the retreat of the red men, and then darted
into the building.

The Dahcotahs, thinking that their prey was
now in their hands, rushed towards the house,
with loud shouts, but were taught more caution by
seeing two guns flash through a crevice, and two
more of their number drop. They took to the trees
again, and fired at the door and windows. As no second
report came from within, they concluded that
the ammunition of the defenders was exhausted, and
they were confirmed in this view of the matter, by
hearing our hero sing his death song. Nevertheless,
it was but a stratagem to entice them within
reach. He knew that by keeping up a distant

fire he could do them little damage, and hoped
to decoy them into such a position that he might
destroy them all.

The Dahcotahs, encouraged at the prospect of
killing the two white men, and in some degree
revenging their slain, ventured from their covers
and mounted the roof of the house. Here they
held a short consultation. It would have been
vain to apply fire, for the roof was covered with
snow, and under that, with damp earth. The
timbers were green, and while they were trying
to ignite them, the enemy might have returned in
force. No mode of access seemed so feasible as
by the chimney. Down it, then, they resolved to
risk themselves. The voices beneath did not
seem to come from the apartment into which it
afforded a passage, and they trusted to effect the
entrance without being discovered: when once
in, they believed that their knives and tomahawks
would overcome any opposition that two men
could make, whatever their strength and courage
might be.

Cautiously, as if going into a panther's den, the
first Indian entered the chimney. When his head
was below the top, another followed, and then another.
The funnel was short, and could only contain
three.

`A fine condition we are in,' said Le Duc; `before
another week our scalps will be drying in the
smoke of a Sioux lodge.'

`Are you afraid, Joe? I thought you a braver
man,' replied Pinchon.

`I am no more afraid than yourself, but we have

not another hour to live. Hark! do you hear
them getting down the chimney? Let us fire our
guns up at them.'

`No, no, do not be in a hurry. I tell you we
shall kill them all, and winter next year on the
St Peters, with their kindred. Hear them in the
chimney? Yes, and I see them too.'

The legs of the lowermost savage were now on
the hearth. An instant longer, and he would have
been in the apartment. Rushing through the open
door, Pinchon seized him by the ancles, and held
him fast. `Quick, quick, Le Duc, bring me the
straw bed,' said he. The order was obeyed.
Stuffing the straw into the fireplace, he applied a
lighted brand. The flames ascended, and the
Indians in the chimney howled in torment. Their
cries soon ended. Stifled with smoke and flame,
and unable to extricate themselves, their blackened
bodies dropped upon the hearth, whence
they were drawn one by one by Pinchon, and
stabbed by Le Duc. Those above, when they
saw the smoke ascend, uttered appalling cries, but
did not, nevertheless, descend from the roof.

They now determined to unroof the house, and
jumping down all at once, put an end to their
hated enemies. Seldom do Indians persevere in
this manner. On the present occasion their passions
were too much excited to allow of cool reflection.
Two of the slabs which composed the
roof were easily torn off, and thrown to the
ground. As the foremost of the Dahcotahs approached,
and bent over the opening to reconnoitre
the pays bas, he received the barbed points

of a fish spear under his chin, and was jerked
down and despatched. The thing was so quickly
done, that his companions, not seeing by what
means he had disappeared, supposed he had found
the way clear, and sprang in. Another advancing,
was likewise speared, to the further edification
of the survivors. Reduced in number to five,
the party lost heart, sprung from the roof, and
made off, saying that the Frenchmen were medicine
men, against whom it would be useless to
contend.

When they were out of sight, Pinchon took his
bullet pouch and powder horn, and throwing his
gun over his shoulder, started in pursuit. Le Duc
followed his example, saying that he was now
convinced the devil took care of his own, and he
was ready to follow his bourgeois anywhere.

They followed the backward track of the Dahcotahs
at a dog trot, till night. They were both
slightly wounded, and their wounds began to
stiffen, but this did not abate their ardor. By
good luck, the moon shone bright, so that they
traced the retreating savages with ease. A little
after midnight, they saw that the trail trended to a
little coppice in the prairie. Here, if any of the
savages were awake, it was dangerous to come:
nevertheless, they reached it without being discovered.

They found the Sioux asleep, unsuspicious of
pursuit, with their guns piled against a tree.
Stealing upon them with noiseless pace, they took
away their arms, and placed them out of reach.
Then returning, they put the muzzles of their own

pieces to the sides of two of the sleepers. Pinchon
gave the signal, and at the word, two more
were added to the number of their victims. The
others jumped to their feet, and seeing their arms
gone, gave one shrill yell of despair, and fled into
the prairie. Two of them were speedily overtaken
and slain by their inveterate pursuers. The
last of the Dahcotahs was not so easily disposed
of. He had not been wounded, and refreshed by
the sleep he had taken, he held them a long chase,
though had either of them been fresh, he would
not have run far. Le Duc gave up the pursuit,
but Pinchon continued to follow, as the hound
follows the hurt deer. The savage held on his
way untired, till day, when looking round, he saw
his hunter within twenty yards of him. Finding
escape impossible, he turned and faced him.
The contest was brief. The white man received
a deep wound, but the scalp of the Dahcotah
was added to those he had already taken.

When these unrelenting ruffians reached their
house, they found their men returned, with a great
number of Indians. Great was the applause they
received, and great was the joy of the Chippeways,
that not one of the Natooessies had returned
home to tell the tale. They filled the store of
Pinchon with furs to the roof, before spring.

He returned to Michilimacinac, and found a
welcome his deeds had not deserved. He was
again trusted with an outfit, and returned to winter
with the very band he had so deeply injured,
having good care to take no one with him who

might betray him, excepting Le Duc, who was as
much implicated as himself.

One more of his exploits, for its almost incredible
temerity, we shall relate, and then make an
end of our story. When his boat arrived at the
portage of the Wisconsin, on his return to the
Sioux country, it was necessary to dry a part of
the cargo, which had been wet by a shower, the
night preceding. The canvass mentioned in a
former sketch, as used to cover Macinac boats,
was spread upon the ground to dry. While he
and his men were engaged in eating, an enormous
rattle-snake crept out of the grass, and stretched
himself in the sun upon the canvass; thinking, it
is probable, that it was placed there for his reception.
It is well known that this reptile is a generous
enemy, never doing any injury unless molested,
nor then, without giving warning. When
Pinchon and his comrade returned, they perceived
the individual in question.

Le Duc seized a stick to kill it, but Pinchon
held his arm, while the serpent regarded them
with the utmost indifference. `Joe Le Duc,' said
Pinchon, `we are called brave men. Should you
like to try which is the best entitled to the name,
of the two?'

`And how should that be tried? You do not
wish to fight with me, I hope? I have no inclination
of that kind myself: I would far rather
drink with you.'

`Nay, it can be tried without fighting. Dare you;
will you catch that snake in your bare hands?'

`Despardieux! no! I will fight the Indians

with you, as long and as often as you please, but I
will not fight such an enemy as that.'

`Well, then, it shall never be said that I feared
man or beast. If you will not catch him, I will.'

Disregarding all remonstrance, the desperado
laid himself down within a few feet of the reptile.
He moved his hand towards him as slowly as the
hand of a clock, while the snake raised his head,
and looked him steadily in the eye, without offering
to strike. When he had advanced his fingers
within six inches of the serpent, he snatched it up
by the neck, as quick as thought, and sprung upon
his feet, holding it out at arm's length! The reptile,
after a few revolutions of its tail, fixed it firmly
round the man's neck, and began to contract its
body. Though one of the strongest of men, he
felt his arm bend, in spite of all the force of his
muscles. Still his iron nerves remained firm. He
grasped his right wrist with his left hand, and resisted
with all his might; but the snake was too
strong for him; when, at last, he saw its white
fangs within six inches of his face, his courage
gave way, and he cried to Le Duc to come with
his knife. The snake was severed in two, and
Pinchon cast the part he held from him. The
animal had attained the full growth of its species,
and had thirtytwo rattles. [70]

After this exploit, which was witnessed and admired
by fifty Winnebagoes, he gained his wintering
ground among the Sioux. His thirst of
blood being insatiable, he went to war with them
against his quondam friends, the Chippeways.

Such was the tenor of his life, sometimes warring

upon one tribe, and sometimes upon another.
Many and wonderful were his adventures, those
we have related being but specimens. As a friend
to morality, we should perhaps expatiate upon the
misapplication of his great natural gifts, and trace
his enormities to the neglect to inculcate sound
principles in his mind in early youth. Yet, as no
one reads such lucubrations, and more especially,
as such subjects have been worn thread bare by
novelists and romance writers, we shall leave our
readers to draw such conclusions as seem good
to them.

The parents of this brutal desperado never had
the unhappiness to behold him again. He fell by
the hand of his trusty comrade, Joe Le Duc, at
the age of thirtythree. He had been supplanted
by this man in the affections of a squaw, and in
his cups fastened a quarrel on him. Le Duc
would have eschewed the contest which followed,
but the ire of Pinchon was not to be appeased.
Two northwest guns, and twenty yards of prairie
ground decided the matter. Joseph Le Duc stood
the fire of his principal without injury, for intoxication
had rendered Pinchon's hand unsteady.
Knowing that his opponent never forgave, he discharged
his piece with better aim, and Pinchon,
shot through the heart, bounded six feet into the
air, and fell to the earth a corpse.

What became of Le Duc is not known. The
posterity of Pinchon still flourishes among the
Dahcotahs, and have lost all traces of European
blood. The fifth in descent from our hero signed
a treaty with the late General Pike at St Peters

in the year eighteen hundred. His son is the
petty chief of the Owaw Hoskah, or Long Avenue
village. There he passes the summer with
his band, and may be seen weekly and daily, visiting
the agency to ask for `some of his father's
milk;' a harmless, worthless, drunken vagabond.
Yet he has a fund of humor that frequently amuses
the officers of the garrison, and procures him
a bottle of whiskey. Some anecdotes of him will
not, we hope, be considered out of place here.

One day, visiting Fort Snelling with his face
blackened, the commanding officer asked him the
reason why he had smeared himself in that manner.
`It is because my brother is dead,' was the
reply.

`Why, then, do you not act as we do? When
we lose a relative, we array ourselves in good
black broadcloth.'

`Father, every nation has its customs. You
are rich, and we are poor. Therefore, we show
our grief by smearing our faces with soot, and you
attire yourselves in black cloth. But as you do
not approve of my following the customs of our
ancestors, to please you I am willing to compromise.
Give me a black dress for this occasion,
and in return I will give you as much soot as shall
serve for the purposes of mourning all the days of
your life.'

At another time, coming to ask a present preparatory
to going to Rum River with his band,
the white chief asked him how that stream had
acquired such an appellation. `Is it because rum
runs there, instead of water?'

`No, father,' replied the Dahcotah, `it does
not. If it did, I would live on its banks till I had
drank it dry. You would never see me here
again.'

Colonel Snelling once proposed to this chief
and his people, in council, to give them potatoes,
seed corn, a plough, &c, and to send men to their
village to teach them how to use the implements
of husbandry, and to raise cattle and swine. `You
see,' said the officer, `that the chase is an uncertain
support, and that you are often obliged to ask
us for food, to keep you from starving. Work,
then, as we do, and you will be above the necessity
of begging.'

Pinchon said nothing till he had filled his pipe,
and exhausted its contents. Then, deliberately
knocking out the ashes, he replied:

`Father, I have been reflecting on your proposal,
as its importance deserves. What you say is
true. You speak with but one tongue. It is certain
that we are often without anything to eat. But
it strikes me, that we have no need to labor to procure
corn, or squashes, or potatoes, or cattle, or
pigs, while we have so good a father, who gives
us all these things, without any trouble on our part.'