After we had completed our hunt, we started down together. Approaching Red River, we heard great numbers of guns before us, and my companions, supposing them to be those of the Sioux, left me and fled across land, in which way they could reach home in less than a day. As I was determined not to abandon our property in the canoe, I continued on by myself, and in about four days arrived safely at home.
The Indians were now about assembling at Pembinah to dispose of their peltries, and have their usual drunken frolic. I had but just arrived at the encampment of our band when they began to start, some going forward by land, and leaving the women to bring on their loads in the canoes. I tried to persuade Wa-me-gon-a-biew and others, which were particularly my friends, not to join in this foolish and destructive indulgence, but I could not prevail upon them. They all went on in advance of me. I moved slowly along, hunting and making dry meat, and did not reach Pembinah until most of the men of the band had passed several days there in drinking. As soon as I arrived, some Indians came to tell me that Wa-me-gon-a-biew had lost his nose. Another had a large piece bitten out of his cheek; one was injured in one way, another in another.
I learned that my brother, as I always called Wa-me-gon-a-biew, had but just arrived, when he happened to go into a lodge where a young man, a son of Ta-bush-shish, was beating an old woman. Wa-me-gon-a-biew held his arms, but presently old Ta-bush-shish coming in, and in his drunkenness probably misapprehending the nature of my brother’s interference, seized him by the hair and bit his nose off. At this stage of the affair, Be-gwa-is, an old chief who had always been very friendly to us, came in, and seeing that a scuffle was going on, thought it necessary to join in it. Wa-me-gon-a-biew perceiving the loss of his nose, suddenly raised his hands, though still stooping his head, and seizing by the hair the head that was nearest him, bit the nose off. It happened to be that of our friend Be-gwa-is. After his rage had a little abated, he recognized his friend, and exclaimed, “wah! my cousin!” Be-gwa-is was a kind and good man, and being perfectly aware of the erroneous impression under which Wa-me-gon-a-biew had acted, never for one moment betrayed any thing like anger or resentment towards the man who had thus been the unwilling cause of his mutilation. “I am an old man,” said he, “and it is but a short time that they will laugh at me for the loss of my nose.”
For my own part, I felt much irritated against Ta-bush-shish, inasmuch as I doubted whether he had not taken the present opportunity to wreak an old grudge upon Wa-me-gon-a-biew. I went into my brother’s lodge, and sat by him. His face and all his clothes were covered with blood. For some time he said nothing, and when he spoke, I found that he was perfectly sober. “Tomorrow,” said he, “I will cry with my children, and the next day I will go and see Ta-bush-shish. We must die together, as I am not willing to live when I must always expect to be ridiculed.” I told him I would join him in any attempt to kill Ta-bush-shish, and held myself in readiness accordingly. But a little sober reflection, and the day’s time he had given himself to cry with his children, diverted Wa-me-gon-a-biew from his bloody intention, and like Be-gwa-is, he resolved to bear his loss as well as he could.
CHAPTER X
Presence of mind and self-devotedness in an Indian mother. – Indian warfare. – Conversation of a chief. – Winter hunt on the Begwionusko River. – Medicine hunting. – Customs, in cases of manslaughter. – Symbolic, or picture writing. – Death of Pe-shau-ba. – Disaster at Spirit Lake, and death of the Little Clam.
Within a few days after this drunken quarrel, Ta-bush-shish was seized with a violent sickness. He had for many days a burning fever, his flesh wasted, and he was apparently near dying when he sent to Wa-me-gon-a-biew two kettles, and other presents, of considerable value, with a message, “My friend, I have made you look ugly, and you have made me sick. I have suffered much, and if I die now my children must suffer much more. I have sent you this present, that you may let me live.” Wa-me-gon-a-biew instructed his messenger to say to Ta-bush-shish, “I have not made you sick. I cannot restore you to health, and will not accept your presents.” He lingered for a month or more in a state of such severe illness that his hair all fell from his head. After this he began to amend, and when he was nearly well, we all removed to the prairie, but were scattered about in different directions, and at considerable distances from each other.
After our spring hunting we began to think of going against the Sioux, and an inconsiderable party assembled among those who lived immediately about me. Wa-me-gon-a-biew and I accompanied them, and in four days we arrived at the little village where Ta-bush-shish then lived. Before our arrival here we had been joined by Wa-ge-tote with sixty men. After we had rested and eaten at our encampment near Ta-bush-shish’s lodge, and were about to start, we saw him come out naked, but painted and ornamented as for a war, and having his arms in his hands. He came stalking up to us with a very angry face, but none of us fully comprehended his design, until we saw him go up and present the muzzle of his gun to Wa-me-gon-a-biew’s back. “My friend,” said he, “we have lived long enough, and have given trouble and distress enough to each other. I sent to you my request that you would be satisfied with the sickness and pain you had made me suffer, but you refused to listen to me, and the evils you continue to inflict on me, render my life wearisome. Let us therefore die together.” A son of Wa-ge-tote, and another young man, seeing the intention of Ta-bush-shish, presented the point of their spears, one to one of his sides, the other to the other, but he took no notice of them. Wa-me-gon-a-biew was intimidated, and dared not raise his head. Ta-bush-shish wished to have fought, and to have given Wa-me-gon-a-biew an equal chance for his life, but the latter had not courage enough to accept his offer. Henceforth, I esteemed Wa-me-gon-a-biew less even than I had formerly done. He had less of bravery and generosity in his disposition than is common among the Indians. Neither Ta-bush-shish nor any of his band joined in our war-party.
We went on, wandering about from place to place, and instead of going against our enemies, spent the greater part of the summer among the buffalo. In the fall I returned to Pembinah, my intention being to go thence to the wintering ground of the trader above mentioned, who had proposed to assist me in getting to the states. I now heard of the war between the United States and Great Britain, and of the capture of Mackinac, and this intelligence deterred me from any attempt to pass through the frontier of the United States territory which were then the scenes of warlike operations.
In the ensuing spring, there was a very general movement among the Ojibbeways of the Red River toward the Sioux country, but the design was not, at least avowedly, to fall upon or molest the Sioux, but to hunt. I travelled in company with a large band under the direction of Ais-ainse, (the little clam.) His brother, called Wage-tone, was a man of considerable consequence. We had ascended Red River about one hundred miles when we met Mr. Hanie, a trader, who gave us a little rum. I lived at this time in a long lodge having two or three fires, and I occupied it in common with several other men with their families, mostly the relatives of my wife. It was midnight or after, and I was sleeping in my lodge when I was waked by some man seizing me roughly by the hand and raising me up. There was still a little fire burning in the lodge, and by the light it gave I recognized, in the angry and threatening countenance which hung over me, the face of Wa-ge-tone, the brother of the Little Clam, our principal chief. “I have solemnly promised,” said he, “that if you should come with us to this country, you should not live. Up, therefore, and be ready to answer me.” He then went on to Wah-zhe-gwun, the man who slept next me, and used to him similar insolent and threatening language, but, by this time, an old man, a relative of mine, called Mah-nuge, who slept beyond, had comprehended the purport of his visit, and raised himself up with his knife in his hand. When Wa-ge-tone came to him, he received a sharp answer. He then returned to me, drew his knife, and threatened me with instant death. “You are a stranger,” said he, “and one of many who have come from a distant country to feed yourself and your children with that which does not belong to you. You are driven out from your own country, and you come among us because you are too feeble and worthless to have a home or a country of your own. You have visited our best hunting grounds, and wherever you have been you have destroyed all the animals which the Great Spirit gave us for our sustenance. Go back, therefore, from this place, and be no longer a burthen to us, or I will certainly take your life.” I answered him, that I was not going to the country we were now about to visit, particularly to hunt beaver, but that even if I were to do so, I had an equal right with him, and was as strong to maintain that right. This dispute was becoming somewhat noisy, when old Mah-nuge came up, with his knife in his hand, and drove the noisy and half drunken Wa-ge-tone out of the lodge. We saw this man no more for a long time, but his brother, the Little Clam, told us to think nothing of what he said.