Myth Telling
As has been several times mentioned in these pages, one of the principal ways of passing time at night in an Indian camp is the recital of fables for their amusement. Most old men and women can recount these stories, but there are some particularly famed for their talents in this respect, and these are compensated for their trouble by feasting, smoking, and small presents. At night, when all work is over, a kettle is put on containing some choice meat, tobacco mixed with weed prepared, the lodge put in order, the family collected, and the story-teller invited, who often prolongs his narrations the greater part of the night. Some of the tales are of a frightful kind, and to their impression on young minds is no doubt mainly to be attributed the fear of ghost monsters and other imaginary supernatural powers exhibited by most Indians when grown.
We have taken some pains to call together a few of the most famed and sensible story-tellers and listened with much patience to a great many of their allegories, but find nothing in any of them bearing on their ideas of a future state.[55] The circumstances and actors portrayed do not reveal the actual notions of the tribe on their religion as it now exists but are founded on their ancient mythology and handed down complete in their details through successive generations, and their real significance, if they ever had any further than amusement, is now lost or absorbed in their manner of worship as referred to in these pages.
Nevertheless, we can discern in them a probability of their being the real belief of their ancestors in their primitive ignorance, before their superstitions and religions had assumed a systematic form and tangible shape. This much may be inferred by the tacit acknowledgment of their truth apparent in the auditors and the unwillingness evinced by all to hear them ridiculed or contradicted. We think the truth of the matter is these tales were believed and formed a portion if not the greater part of the religion of their ancestors, are reverenced for their antiquity and originality, together with a lingering uncertainty as to their having actually transpired in times long passed. This may be deduced from the evident veneration with which some of them are regarded, and from the fact that there are no new fables made at the present day, nor any one who possesses or professes the character of a myth maker. These stories are not added to or diminished, for if in the telling the least circumstance be omitted the narrator is reminded of the error and corrects it. In none of them is the creation of animals or other objects, animate or inanimate, reasonably attempted, though such things are alluded to in many absurd forms and grotesque imaginings according with the general tenor of the tale. These, though often trifling in their details, present a connected chain of events and often contain a kind of moral, that is, a double meaning as observed in the one relating to the formation of the Ursa Major and Polar Star, before inserted.
None of these serve to demonstrate to the young the power and ubiquity of Wakoñda.[56] This awful principle is too much feared to be lightly introduced in common conversation or connected with amusing tales, though inferior demons and minor supernatural powers with a great variety of figures of the imagination, such as monsters, ghosts, giants, beasts with reasoning powers, transformation, and works of necromancy, are represented.
There does not appear to be much useful instruction conveyed by any of these oral tales, but they are resorted to as a source of amusement. Stories related by us to them from books, such as the fables of Æsop or those from the “Arabian Nights,” are listened to with great attention and sought after as eagerly as their own fiction. Moreover, they can, when these fables are plainly narrated, not only comprehend the literal meaning but appreciate the moral when it is pointed, not in its moral sense but as a necessary conclusion arising from the circumstances related. The only objection to recording many of these tales is their interminable length, one frequently occupying two or three hours in its recital. So remarkably long are they that the auditors are apt to become sleepy, and the narrator, if not responded to occasionally to convince him of their attention, breaks off and abruptly takes his leave. We now subjoin some of these stories that may serve to show the scope of imagination involved and that others may form their own opinions regarding their interest and utility.
Fables
Related by “The Ear Rings of Dog’s Teeth,” an Old Assiniboin
A long time ago there lived a great chief of a powerful nation, but he was a fearful and desperate man. He had killed six of his wives at different times in fits of passion, and at the time of our story had separated from his people, being jealous of his wife, and placed his lodge alone on the bank of a small stream. His family consisted of his wife, a boy say 12 years old, and a girl about 10 years, both his children by the woman now with him. The man went out hunting, and the game being far off did not return for several days. In the meantime the woman continued her domestic duties at home. Being in the timber in quest of wood, she struck her ax on a hollow tree and a great many snakes came forth, one of which[57] was large and handsome, had a fascinating eye and horns upon his head, spoke sweet words to the woman, and in the end succeeded in seducing her. Her husband returned and inquired of her “What had become of the paint on her face, which he put there before starting?” She made some hesitating answer and he suspected all was not right and determined to watch. In the course of a few days he gave out that he was again going hunting and might be absent some time, as he had not yet seen game. He as usual painted his wife’s face and departed. In place of going to hunt he hid in the bushes to watch his wife, who made her visits to the snake’s nest, striking on the tree and calling on the horned snake in terms of endearment to come forth. The snake came out, and the husband witnessed the infidelity of his wife.
He remained a day or two near the place, and each day observed his wife to repair to the snake’s den for like purposes. He then returned home. She was absent, but returned in a short time. “My wife,” said he, “I have killed a deer some distance off; go and get the meat.” After having received instructions as to where the meat was to be found, the woman departed with her dogs to bring it. In the meantime her husband went into the bushes, struck with his battle ax on the snake’s house, saying, “My husband, come forth,” imitating the voice of his wife. The reptile sallied out with all his family and the Indian destroyed them all with his battle ax. Gathering up the snakes, he carried them home and cooked them by boiling them to a jelly. His wife returned without finding any meat (as indeed there was none), and found her husband sitting down sharpening a huge flint ax. He invited her to sit down, and observing that she must be hungry after such a long travel, poured into a bowl the mess of snakes, which he handed to his wife, who, thinking it was some other kind of meat, ate the whole. After she had feasted, the man said, “You have eaten your beloved husband, the snake, and now you shall follow him.” He rose up and cut her head off at one stroke of his sharp ax. A storm arose, the wind blew, the thunder rolled, and the man disappeared in a whirlwind of dust and was caught up in the air. The children, much frightened at all this, ran out of the lodge over the prairie, never ceasing their speed until they were at some distance.
On stopping to rest themselves they looked back and beheld the Head of their mother rolling after them, calling on them to stop.[58]
This frightened them more and they continued their flight. The Head rolling after them was now very near and the children were very tired. The boy threw his knife behind him and immediately the prairie was bristling with knives, through which the Head on endeavoring to pass was cut in a dreadful manner, and stopped in its course. The children continued their way. A fox came to where the Head lay, and the Head said, “My friend, I am in want of a husband, will you marry me?” “You are too ugly,” replied the fox and disappeared into his hole. The Head followed the fox, who being afraid of it, when he arrived at the end of the burrow commenced digging farther in great haste, the Head still following and calling on the fox to stop. But the animal dug very fast, and finding he could not escape from the Head in this way came out to the surface of the earth near where the children were. The Head also came out and, perceiving them, rolled after them, coaxing them to stop, but they ran forward until they arrived at the top of a hill. The little girl said, “My brother, I am tired, throw something else behind you, the Head is close upon us.” He threw his awl and up rose innumerable awls on the prairie which, pointing toward the Head, formed a barrier which it could not pass. The children continued their flight. A badger appeared alongside of the Head. The Head said to it, “My fine fellow, I wish to marry you. Will you be my husband?” “Your face is too ugly and bloody for me,” said the badger, and disappeared in his hole.
The Head followed the badger, who like the fox continued digging underneath the ground, making a road underneath the awls in the direction the children were going, so that the Head came out again to where they were seated resting themselves. On seeing it they again ran forward, the Head after them calling on them to stop, but they were afraid. Again did the little girl get tired and ask her brother to save them by throwing something behind him. He threw his tinder or spunk, and immediately the prairie took fire, spreading out behind them, burning the Head to a cinder, leaving nothing but the bones. The children traveled on. A wolf this time came near the Head and, as with the fox and badger, was desired by the Head to become her husband. “You are nothing but a frightful ghost,” exclaimed the wolf, and ran into his hole. The Head followed, the wolf dug, and in the end the Head again came out near the children. They ran forward and arrived at the bank of a large river. Two cranes were standing on the bank. The boy requested the cranes to carry them over. One of the cranes asked the boy, “How does my breath smell?” “Very sweet,” said he, “as though you had eaten service berries.” “Good,” replied the crane, “now both of you get on my back.” They being seated, the bird flew across and landed them in safety on the opposite shore. In the interim the Head came to where the other crane was standing and commanded it to bear it over immediately, as it was in a great hurry to overtake the children. The bird proposed the same question. “How does my breath smell?” “It smells of stinking fish,” replied the Head. “Good,” said the crane, “now get on my back.”
The Head having placed itself, the bird flew, and when about the middle of the stream shook the Head off its back in the water, which on falling cried out, “Now, I go to dwell among the fishes!”
The children perceiving they were freed from their tormentor continued their route more at leisure, and after traveling some days they arrived at a large camp very hungry and very tired. It was the camp of their father, and he was there as its chief. When he saw his children he abused them for having a bad mother, would not let any person give them food nor take them into their lodge. He brought cords, bound the children’s hands, and taking them outside the camp raised them into a tree, tied them both together and to the top limb of a large tree. He then ordered the whole camp to move off and thus left his children to perish. After all had gone he again looked that his children were secure and examined the camp to see that no one remained behind, but perceived nothing but a little old dog lying on an extinguished fire, with his head in a large shell for a pillow, apparently sick. “Why do you remain behind the camp?” inquired the man. “Because I am sick and can not travel,” answered the dog. The man was enraged, told the dog to begone, kicked it, but he only howled and would not raise his feet. The chief after beating the old dog so that he thought him dead left and followed his people. As soon as he departed and was out of sight the dog rose and sought the tree where the children were, commenced gnawing at the root of it, and in four days and nights it fell to the ground.
He then gnawed off their cords, which occupied two nights more, and the children found themselves free but so very weak they could not travel. The little old dog rambled through the ground where the camp had been placed, discovered a piece of rotten wood afire, and brought it to where the children were. He gathered other branches and made them a comfortable fire, at which they warmed themselves. The little boy covered his eyes with his hands and hung his head, his sister cried, they were very hungry and very miserable. “Look, my brother, what a fine herd of elk is near!” the girl exclaimed as about 50 of those animals came walking toward them. The boy looked at them, wishing they were dead so that they might have meat, and as soon as he looked upon them they all fell dead. They went to them, and, having no knife wherewith to skin them, the boy wished them skinned, and in a moment they were so. He now began to see the power granted him, which was to look upon and wish for anything he desired. By the same means he produced the elk skins dressed and made into a large lodge, far larger than any of his people, which was erected, and the meat of the elk piled around the lodge on scaffolds outside. In the interior was an apartment for the little old dog. They were now happy.
Day after day large herds of buffalo came near the lodge, and on looking at them the boy killed them, skinned them, and placed the meat on scaffolds, cut up and dried.
When he thought he had enough he made a feast to the magpies and desired one of them to take along some fat meat and fly in the direction of the camp to endeavor, if possible, to overtake them. The bird left and after flying some days arrived at the camp. They were all starving, having had no meat for a long time. Some of the men were playing ball in the middle of the camp. The magpie advanced and dropped a large depouille among them and all scrambled to get a share. They inquired of the bird where he got the meat, and received the information, together with the news, that a great deal of meat was on scaffolds, enough to feed the whole camp. The father of the children was the chief; he called a council and determined on going back to the large supply of food, but knew it belonged to his children from the description given of them by the magpie. In due time the camp arrived at the boy’s lodge and placed their tents. The boy sat in his lodge, his head down, and his eyes covered with his hands. All the camp with his father at their head came around begging him for meat. But the boy answered not a word, neither did he look up. The rest had no power to take the meat, not even to approach the scaffolds. The second day after their arrival his sister said, “Do, my brother, come out and look what a fine camp of our people are here.” He went, looked, and all fell dead in their lodges, or wherever they happened to be. At this the little old dog began to cry and besought the boy to revive his (the dog’s) relations, who fell with the others. “Show me them,” said the boy. “They shall live.”
He went with the dog through the camp, who pointed out his sisters and brothers, all lying dead. The boy revived them by looking upon them.[59] After a short time the little girl said, “My brother, it is a great pity so many fine men and women should die. Look upon them and let them live again.” The boy did as desired and the whole camp was again called to life and motion.
He then made a feast, called all of them together, distributed the meat, and told them of the conduct of their father toward them. The boy was made chief of the camp, the little old dog was transformed into a man and became the first soldier, and the father was degraded to be a scullion and bearer of burdens for the whole.
By a Woman
An old woman lived in a lodge alone except her children, and raised corn in a garden. One of her little boys was shooting birds with arrows in the garden, when on a sudden appeared a sack full of rice, which, dancing up and down before the boy, sung out, “My nephew, shoot me and eat me, my nephew, shoot me and eat me.” (This part is sung by the narrator.) The boy shot an arrow into the sack and all the rice spilled on the ground. Here the story ends with a general laugh.
By Tah-tun-gah-hoo-hoo-sa-chah, or “The Bull’s Dry Bones,” an Old and Famed Priest of the Assiniboin
The whole surface of the earth was at a time covered with water; in fact, no land existed but at the bottom of this great ocean. Seven persons were on a raft, viz., five men and two women. These were the first Gros Ventres, besides whom the only living objects visible were a Frog, a Muskrat, a Crow, and a Spider. The men, wishing for land and being informed in a dream how to act, told the Muskrat to dive to the bottom of the water and try to bring up a portion of earth. The being plunged, remained a long time under, but appeared without any. He was ordered to try again, and dived still farther, remaining under a much longer time, but reappeared with nothing. Again and again he plunged and at last disappeared for such a length of time that all thought he was drowned, but he rose to the surface, stretching out his claws to those on the raft, saying, “I have brought it,” and immediately expired from exhaustion. They drew in the being and scraped from between his claws a small portion of earth which they made into a flat cake, set it on the water, and behold it spread rapidly in every direction. They then called the Crow, gave it directions to fly as far as the earth extended. The bird departed but did not return, from which they concluded it to be so extensive that the Crow could not come back.
Being in possession of land, and seeing all was damp and cold and barren, they wished for spring to make something grow, and inquired of the frog how many moons remained until spring would come. The Frog said, “Seven,” but the Spider contradicted it, called him a liar, on which a quarrel ensued, and the Spider beat the Frog to death with a stick. The latter, on dying, stretched out his legs toward the men, indicating seven by the claws thereon. The eldest of the party and head of the whole, whom they called their father, not being certain whether the Frog told the truth, started two of the others (brothers), both very brave and venturesome, with orders to travel in quest of spring. They set out eastward and in six months arrived at warm weather, where they found spring bundled up and placed on a scaffold, the packages consisting of flowers, seeds, turnips, roots, etc. Two large Cranes were standing beneath the scaffold, which the brothers loaded with the “spring season” and ordered them to fly back to their people. The birds started, and in another month arrived with their cargo safe, thus verifying the predictions of the Frog, which so enraged the men against the Spider that they put him to death, and he is to this day despised and crushed by all, while the frogs every spring sing forth the praises of their truthful ancestor.
The travelers, having accomplished their mission, bent their course westward to explore the new country, and after a long time came to the Rocky Mountains.
In one of the valleys between the mountains they perceived a motion in the earth at a certain spot as though it was boiling or as though some animal was endeavoring to get out. One of the brothers proposed shooting an arrow into it, but the other objected and requested him to let it alone. The former was, however, a very obstinate, reckless man who never would listen to good advice, and shot an arrow into the spot. A whirlwind gushed out, and rose up in the air in a round black column, bearing the two men up along with it. Higher and higher they rose until so far above the earth that they could not see it. The wind now carried them eastward for several days, when at length they descended to earth on the other side of the sea. Here they rambled about some time and found an old woman working in a cornfield from whom they begged something to eat. She gave them a mess of corn and potatoes. After having eaten they inquired of her if she could inform them how they could get back to their family. She said she could, but they must implicitly follow her directions or some harm would befall them. After they had made the required promises she took them to the seashore, made a sacrifice of some corn to the water and invoked the appearance of the Wau-wau-kah. Immediately afar off appeared an object moving over the surface of the water, spouting it out high in the air, and, approaching with great rapidity, soon arrived at the place where the travelers stood. The being thus conjured up had the head of a man, though of monstrous size, and out of which projected two horns as large as the largest trees.
The body was that of a beast covered with long black hair, the tail was like that of a very large fish and covered with scales, and it was endowed with a spirit. To this monster the woman gave directions and made two seats in its horns like large birds’ nests, one in either antler, in each of which she placed a man, in one a sack of corn and in the other a sack of potatoes. Spreading out her hands and invoking the sun, the monster at her desire departed with its cargo and in a great many days arrived at the opposite shore in safety. The old woman had instructed the travelers that immediately on landing they should sacrifice to the waters, by throwing in a little corn. One of them did so, but the obstinate brother would not. Being reproached by the monster for not following the advice of the woman he shot an arrow into it and was immediately swallowed up by the beast. The remaining brother was in great distress at this, and, recollecting the conduct of the old woman, made a sacrifice of some corn. Stretching out his hands he invoked the Sun to his aid. Immediately a dark round spot appeared in the west which came forward with terrible velocity and a whistling sound, increasing in size and speed as it approached. This was a thunder stone, which, with an awful report and bright flash, struck the monster on the back, separated it in two, and the man was liberated. A terrible storm arose, the sea rolled, and the monster disappeared.
They now bent their course westward and after many days came to a lodge inhabited by an old man and his family, from whom they begged something to eat. He showed them immense herds of buffalo, apparently tame, and all black except two, which were milk white. He told them to kill whichever they wished, but not to destroy more than they wanted for food or clothing. The good brother killed a fat cow, which, being more than they wanted, he took the rest of the meat to the old man’s lodge. The other remained behind and shot arrows into a great many buffalo uselessly, for which the old man reproached him. After having feasted they were about departing when the old man showed them a great number of ducks and geese. “These,” said he, “with the buffalo, are our life; treat them well.” On the old man’s leaving the Indian who had no ears commenced killing the birds with a club and made great havoc. The old man returned and said, “You have done wrong, you are a bad man, evil will befall you, the Wau-wau-kah shall bar your road home to your people. But your brother is a good man, has ears, and for his sake some of my buffalo will follow him home to his people, and the white cowskin shall be his fetish to remember me by.” They separated; the travelers pursued their journey and encamped on the prairie at the foot of what they supposed was a mountain, but which was the Wau-wau-kah lying across their road. In the morning they advanced to go around it, but, turn whichever way they would, the monster turned with them and obstructed their way, so that the whole day was spent in useless efforts to get forward.
The good brother proposed sacrificing some corn to appease it, but the other became very angry and would not listen to any peaceful measures. He collected immense piles of buffalo dung all around the monster and set it on fire, by which the Wau-wau-kah was roasted alive. The smell of the roast being savory he cut out a slice and ate it, offering some to his brother, who, however, would not taste thereof. In the morning they continued their way, the buffalo following at a distance. At rising the ensuing morning the one who had eaten the flesh of the monster said, “Look, my brother, what handsome fine black hair is growing from my body.” The other looked and beheld the hair of the beast. On the next morning he said, “Look at my head, my brother, horns are coming out upon it,” and so it was. On the third morning he said, “Look at my legs, my brother, fish scales are growing there.” Each and every morning when they arose the Indian was assuming more and more the shape and appearance of the Wau-wau-kah. In the course of a few days his body was completely covered with hair, his head was furnished with horns of a monstrous size, and his legs were growing together in the form of a fish. They traveled on, the body and entire shape of the Indian rapidly increasing in size and appearance to that of the monster whose flesh he had eaten. They now proceeded slowly, owing to the difficulty the one experienced in walking by the change he was undergoing, and this impediment increasing in proportion as his extremities gradually assumed the form of a fish.
In the course of time they arrived at the mouth of the Yellowstone and encamped for the last time together. The change was now nearly completed, and when they arose in the morning behold a complete Wau-wau-kah was presented, who said to the other, “Depart, I am no more your brother; I am no more a man; I am either your friend or your enemy, according to the way you treat me. Leave. You will find your people several days’ travel down on the banks of the Missouri. Take them the corn. Yonder stand the buffalo you have brought; they will follow you home. You will become a powerful nation. Each and every year they must sacrifice some corn to me by throwing it into the Missouri, or the wind shall blow, the rain fall, the water rise and destroy your crops. As for me, I shall be separated here; my head will go up into the clouds and govern the wind, my tail fall into the water and become a monstrous fish to disturb it. My body will rove through the Rocky Mountains; my bones may be found, but my spirit will never die. Depart, you have ears and a good heart.”
At the close of this speech the winds blew, the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and a terrible storm arose, amidst which the monster disappeared. The other returned to his people, told them the story of his travels, and to this day corn is sacrificed to the Missouri by the Gros Ventres to appease the spirit of the Wau-wau-kah.
Songs; Music[60]
The construction of the Indian flute and music produced by it have already been described, although we are not able to state in what manner, if any, it resembles the Arcadian pipe.
Most ceremonies, dances, public demonstrations of joy or grief, and other matters of general interest are accompanied by songs, which have appropriate names, but these chants are for the most part only tunes or modulations of voices in concert, with the introduction of a few words in some of them. They are in fact a continued chorus consisting chiefly in repeating the meaningless syllables “Hai-yah, hai-yah, hai-ai-ai-yah-ah-ah, hai-yah, he-e-e-ah, hai-yah,” etc., fast or slow as required by the nature of the song. Where words are introduced they are composed of five or six syllables or three or four words, bearing some relation to the event which is honored with the song, but are of no consequence, so that all question regarding their rhyme or poetical compositions may be passed over in silence. The tune is generally begun by one person pitching it, who after singing a few notes, is joined by the whole choir, or sometimes, as in the scalp song, the women add their voices in the second part of the tune, where the name of the warrior who killed the enemy is mentioned. The modulations are bold and wild, by no means discordant or disagreeable, and they are remarkable for keeping very exact time either with the voice, drums, or feet, and where words are added they are so few, and the syllables so separated to accord as scarcely to be understood or distinguished from the rest of the chant.
The songs are measured, accents occur at fixed and regular intervals, being mostly the same in beats as the Scotch reel time. The effect intended is produced by action, energy of voice and motion, costume, and the wild intonations of the time, not from words repeated. These songs are suitable to the occasion, and the whole when well got up has a decidedly unique appearance, singularly correspondent in all its component parts. These chants are very difficult for us to learn and scarcely less so to describe, but are preferred by them to any music, vocal or instrumental, of white performers yet presented to them. The length of a tune is about equal to eight bars of our common time, and the syllables to each beat vary from four to eight, but in some of the medical songs the intonation is so rapid as scarcely to admit of being counted. Songs for dancing, medicine (that is, the practice of healing), and on other assemblies are generally accompanied with drums, bells, rattles, flutes, and whistles, of all of which the drum is the principal instrument, for though on some occasions all of them and several of each kind are used, yet there are none in which the drum is not used, but several where the rest are dispensed with.
Independent of public songs, singing is a very common amusement for the young men at nights, principally to attract the attention of the females, and often intended as signals for secret assignations.
Subjoined is a list of most of their songs, in reading over which it will be observed that there are none denominated “Hunting songs,” that employment not being celebrated in song in any way, either for success or failure, unless the incantative song by the Master of the Park to bring the buffalo toward it would be construed in that light. The uses of the others can be traced in their names, taken in connection with what has already been written concerning their ceremonies. The words “do-wan” attached to all means “a song.”
| Indian name | Interpretation | Occasion, etc. |
|---|---|---|
| Wah-kit-tai´ do-wan | Scalp song | More than ten different kinds. |
| Chan-du´-pah do-wan | Incantation Pipe song | Two or three varieties. |
| Tah-tun´-gah do-wan | Bull song | In the Bull dance; also used in the park. |
| Te-chagh´-ah do-wan | Incantation Lodge song | Religious. |
| Cong-ghai´ do-wan | Crow song | In Crow dance and before starting to war. |
| Pai-hun-ghe-nah do-wan | White Crane song | Incantation—in the song of that name. |
| Nap-pai´-she-ne do-wan | Song of the Braves | In the dance of “Ceux qui sauve pas.” |
| Ah-kitchetah do-wan | Soldiers’ song | Used at the soldiers’ dance. |
| To-kah-nah do-wan | Foxes’ song | In the dance of that band. |
| Ah-do-wah | Diviner’s song for the sick | About 20 different kinds. |
| At-to-do-wah | Tattooing song | Sung while performing that operation. |
| Opah-ghai do-wan | Gathering of the kins | Called also the thunder song (incantation). |
| Och-pi-e-cha-ghah do-wan | Buffalo Park song | Incantation. |
| Shunga-tunga do-wan | Horse song | In the whip dance. |
| Shunk to-ka-chah do-wan | Wolf song | Sung on starting to war. |
| To-shan do-wan | Drinking songs | More than ten varieties. |
| We do-wan | Sun song | Religious. |
| We-chah-nauge do-wan | Song to the dead | Lament. |
| Hoonk-o´-hon do-wan | Song of thanks | Several. |
| Wah-ghunh´-ksecha do-wan | Bear song | Medicine. |
| We-coo-ah | Love song | About 10 varieties. |
| Nap-pai-e-choo do-wan | Hand gambling song | |
| Hampah-ah-he-yah | Moccasin gambling song | |
| We-hhnoh´-hhnoh | Incantation song and feast | |
| Tsh-kun do-wan | Women’s dance song | Where women only perform. |
| Opon do-wan | Elk song | Medicine for elk, religious. |
Their drums are of two kinds. The most common is made like a tambourine without its bells, the skin forming the head being stretched over the hoop while wet and kept there by sinews being passed through it and the hoop a few inches apart. (Pl. 80, fig. 1.) The inside portions of the skin have cords made of sinew extending across from several places, meeting in the middle and forming a handle to hold it up by (2). It is held up in one hand and beaten with a stick by the other, no more beats being made than are necessary to correspond with the accents of the notes, thus preserving the time.
The other kind of drum is made of a piece of hollow dry tree about 2½ feet long, scraped to a shell and smooth inside and out, resembling in shape a staff churn (3). The head or skin is stretched on the smaller end with a hoop, which is retained in its place by sinews passed through. The other is left open. When beaten but one stick is used, the drum being set on end. Both are often painted with different devices. The rattles, wag-ga-mó (Sioux) or Chi-chi-quoin (Cree), were originally and in a measure still are gourds dried with the seeds in, or after being dried the seeds, etc., are taken out and pebbles put in (4). Others are made of the rawhide of elk stretched over a slight frame of woodwork while wet and dried in that shape, pebbles being put therein at holes left in the top or in the handle (5 and 6). No. 7 is the rattle used by the “braves” in their dance. It is made of rawhide like the rest, but in the form of an open ring.
No. 8 is the rattle made out of deer and antelope hoofs scraped thin and light, reduced in size, and a number of each attached to small strings, so closely that they clash together when shaken. The flute (9) is made of wood, and the whistle (10) is the wing bone of a swan. These have before been described. From what has preceded it will be understood that there are no verses in their songs evincing their patriotism, or other chants representing their triumphs; that all is chorus and tune. Their laments for the dead are of the same description, adding a few words and calling upon the departed by stating the degree of relationship, the few mournful words to deplore their loss, and the rest of the chant is in meaningless ejaculations.
Their music is never recorded nor have they such things as music boards or bark songs. In their bacchanalian songs they often repeat catches of whatever comes into their minds at the time, adapting the words to the song, but these words or any particular expressions do not properly belong to the songs, which in their original are of the same description as the others.
Many lullabies are sung to children by their mothers, but as usual but few words introduced, consisting mostly of humming of different tunes to put them to sleep, adding sometimes, “Sleep, sleep, my pretty child,” or “Red fox come here; you will get a marrow bone to eat”—this when they are 2 or 3 years old.
There is nothing in their painting or sculpture worthy of notice. All are rude drawings and carvings scarcely intelligible without explanation.