CHAPTER FIFTEEN THE BIG COUNCIL
Our winter camp was a very beautiful place with plenty of game and an abundance of good dry wood. We had nearly everything that was needed to make us happy. My leg and all of the sick Indians got well, and we were getting along finely when one day some of Pocatello’s Indians came to our camp.
That night Washakie called a council of the tribe to meet in the War Chief’s tepee. I thought this strange, for he had always held his councils in our tepee. The next morning they held another council, so I thought I would go over and see what it was all about. But when I got to the door of the council tepee, I met an Indian who told me to run back, that they did not want me in there. This puzzled me, for I had never before been sent away from the councils.
When I got back to our tepee, mother and Hanabi were both crying. I knew then that something serious was up, but they would not tell me a word about it. I thought that Pocatello’s Indians wanted Washakie to help them in some bloody affair with the whites.
Things went on in this way for four days. The Indians kept on holding councils, but I could not learn what was the cause. I saw other squaws come to our tepee, but when I came near them, they would stop talking. This made me think that the trouble had something to do with me, and I worried a good deal about it.
On the fifth morning Washakie sent for me. I went and found about fifteen Indians at the council. The War Chief first asked me how old I was.
“About fourteen years,” I answered.
“How old were you when you left home?” he went on.
“Nearly twelve.”
“Were you stolen away or did you come to us of your own accord?” was his next question.
I told him that I ran away; nobody forced me to come; but two Indians coaxed me and gave me my pinto pony.
He then told me that I might go. When I got back to our tepee mother and Hanabi wanted to know what had happened, and I told them.
That night the council was continued in Washakie’s tepee. The War Chief asked me some more questions. He wanted to know how the Indians treated me, and why I ran away from home.
I told him that I had been treated just as well by the Indians as I had ever been treated by the whites, and that I ran away because I was tired of herding sheep alone. Besides, I wanted the pinto pony and the only way I could get him was to go with the Indians, so I went.
“Have the Indians kept their promises with you?” the War Chief asked.
“They have done everything they said they would do,” I told him; “I haven’t any fault to find with them.”
Bur. Am. Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution
Shoshone War Chief’s tepee, from a photograph taken in 1861. The tepee is made of buffalo skins, and is possibly the identical one in which the big council was held.
Washakie then said that he had told the Indians they might offer me the pony if I would come; but they were not to force me away from home. “So when he came,” the chief continued, “we gave the squaw who owned the pinto four colts for him. I gave her a yearling, mother gave two others, and Morogonai gave one. We never told the boy that he could have the pony; but we all understood that it belonged to him. Afterwards I gave him another horse for breaking some colts for me.”
The War Chief asked me whether I would rather live with the white people or the Indians. I told him I would sooner live with the Indians. With that the council broke up and the Indians went to their various tepees.
“What does all this mean?” I asked Washakie.
“You will know in the morning,” he replied.
“If they intend to take my pony away,” I said, “I will skip out in the night.”
“They are not going to do that,” said my mother; “whenever you go, that horse goes with you.”
We all went to bed that night wondering what would happen next day. It was a long night for me, for I did not sleep much.
Morning came at last, and after breakfast the War Chief with several other Indians came to our tepee. With them were the Pocatello Indians. When they were all inside the tepee, Washakie told me that these Indians had been down to the place where my people lived; that my father said I had been stolen by the Indians; that he was raising a big army to come and get me; and that he was going to kill every Indian he could find. Washakie asked me what I thought about it. I told him that it was not so.
“In the first place,” I said, “my people do not want to fight the Indians; and besides, if my father had been coming after me he would have come long before this. I don’t believe one word of it.”
Washakie was of the same opinion as I was.
Then one of Pocatello’s Indians said he had just come from Salt Lake City and many people there had asked him whether he knew anything about the boy that had been stolen from the whites. He said that all through the white men’s towns they were getting ready to fight, and he knew that they were coming to get me.
“I know they are not,” I said, “for I have heard my father say many times that if any of his boys ran away he should never come home again; besides, my father has an old Gosiute Indian living with him who knows all about my running away.”
Washakie said that it did not look reasonable to him that they would wait so long and then come to hunt the boy, especially at that time of the year.
This made the Pocatello Indians angry. “All right,” they said; “believe that white boy if you would rather than believe us; but if you get into a fight with the white men, you need not ask us to help you.”
Washakie said that he was not going to have any trouble with the whites if he could avoid it.
“No,” they said, “you are too big a coward to fight anything”; and off they strutted as mad as hornets. As they went out they said to one of our Indians that they would like to get that little white devil out in the brush and they would soon have another white, curly-headed scalp to dance around.
When the council met again that night, they did not have much to say; they all appeared to be in a deep study. After a little while Washakie said he thought it would be a good thing to send some of our Indians to the white settlements to find out what was going on.
“That is the best thing to do,” said old Morogonai; “but who will go?”
“It will not be hard to get men enough to go,” said Washakie.
The War Chief said it would be better for the white boy to go himself and end all the trouble; for if his folks were coming after him, that would stop them and settle the dispute. Nearly all of the council agreed with the War Chief.
Washakie asked me what I thought about it. I told him that I did not know the way home and I would not go.
“If the council decides that it is the wisest plan for you to go,” said the chief, “we will find a way for you to get home safe.” He then asked each member of the council what he thought about it, and all were of the opinion that it was the best thing to do.
Mother talked and cried a great deal. I do not remember all she said, but I know that she begged them to send some one else. Washakie was silent for a long time, then he said that I had better go; that he would send two of his men with me to the nearest white town and then I could get home myself.
“I want you to go home,” he said, “and when you get there, tell the truth. Tell your father that you came to us of your own accord; and then if you want to come back, we shall be glad to have you come and live with us always.”
“All right,” I said, “I will go home if you want me to, but I will not stay there.”
How mother did take on! It seemed as if it would break her poor old heart, and Hanabi took it very hard, too. I told them not to feel bad, for I would soon come back.
In a few days, I was to leave, so we began to get ready for the journey. Hanabi and some other squaws set to work to make my clothes, and they soon had enough to dress me in first-class Indian style. The Indians gave me so many buffalo robes and buckskins that one horse could not carry them; so Washakie said that I might have one of the horses they had captured from the Crows.
When the two Indians that were to go with me said they were ready, we packed up. I had in my pack seven buffalo robes, fifteen large buckskins, and ten pairs of very fine moccasins. It was a bulky load, but not very heavy. Just as I was leaving, the little boys gave me so many arrows that I could not get them all in my quiver.
“She knew me the moment she saw me.”