SUMMER 1857
Ä´potó Ek`iädă´-de K`ádó, "Sun dance when the forked stick sprouted." The figure (121) represents a forked stick, with leaves, growing out from the side of the medicine lodge.
This dance was held on the north side of Salt fork of the Arkansas (Ätäntaí P'a, "Salt river") at a small creek, probably Elm creek, a considerable distance below upper Mule creek (Ädóä P'a) in Oklahoma. A Kiowa named K`ayä´ñte, "Falls-over-a-bank," owned a sacred ä´poto, or two-pronged stick of ä`gótä, or chinaberry wood about four feet long, trimmed with wild sage, which had been given him by his uncle Kóñabíñate or Kóñate, "Black-tripe." It was his medicine, which he carried publicly only in the sun dance, and no one else had such a stick. He carried it on this occasion, keeping time to the dance with it, and at the end of the ceremony planted it, with the fork down, inside the medicine lodge as a sacrifice. On returning to the place next year the Kiowa found that it had been reversed by someone and had taken root and put forth green leaves. This was the more remarkable, as it had previously been stripped of its bark. The news of the phenomenon spread through the tribe and confirmed the previous impression concerning the mysterious powers of the ä´poto. Ten years later, on the occasion of the treaty of Medicine Lodge, the Kiowa visited the spot and found that the rod had grown into a tree and was still alive. It is just possible that K`ayä´ñte, who is still living, could explain the matter.
Fig. 121—Summer 1857—Forked-stick-sprouting sun dance.
After this dance two war parties started out, one against the Pä´sûñko (Paseños, Mexicans of El Paso), and another, consisting principally of Comanche under the chief Mäwi, against the Sauk and Fox tribes, who had so badly punished them three years before. They met the Sauk northeast of the scene of the former battle and had an engagement in which several of the Sauk were killed. Gaápiatañ was one of this party. No mention of these expeditions occurs in the official reports.
The story of the origin of the ä´poto staff is romantic, and throws light upon several interesting points of Indian belief and custom. Eighteen years before this sun dance (i. e., in 1839) a small party of about twenty Kiowa warriors led by Gúădalóñte, "Painted-red," started against the Pä´sûñko, already mentioned. The old chief Dohasän accompanied the party, but not as leader. It should be noted that usually every war party had a substitute leader or lieutenant, who took command in case of the death of the leader. For some reason they made no attack upon El Paso, probably because they found it too vigilantly guarded, but stayed only one night and started the next day on their return. In the desolate Jornada del Muerto, between the lower Pecos and the Rio Grande, they halted for the night at a spring coming out of a cave since known to the Kiowa as Tsó-dói-gyätä´dă´-dée, "the rock house (cave) in which they were surrounded." None of the Kiowa can define its exact location, but they describe it as a deep rock well with a large basin of water, and on one side of it a cave running under the rock from the water's edge. Pope's statement shows it to have been the Hueco Tanks, in western Texas, just south of the New Mexico line. While resting there they were surrounded by a large force of Mexican soldiers, who killed several of their horses and forced them to take refuge in the cave. The Mexicans had with them several Mescalero Indians (E´sikwita), who, however, were rather doubtful allies, as one of them, who spoke Comanche, shouted to the Kiowa in that language, encouraging them to hold out.
On being driven into the cave the Kiowa found themselves cut off from both food and water. They were watched so closely by the Mexicans that they could only venture out to the edge of the water under cover of darkness to get a hasty drink or cut from the dead horses a few strips of putrefying flesh, which they had to eat raw. One man was shot in the leg while thus endeavoring to obtain water. From the stench of the dead horses, and the hunger, thirst, and watchfulness, they were soon reduced to a terrible condition of suffering.
On exploring the cave to see if there might be any means of escape, they found that it extended a considerable distance, and at the farther end was a hole opening to the surface. One of them climbed up and thrust his head out of the opening, but was seen by the soldiers, who at once effectually closed the hole. It was evident that the Mexicans were afraid to attack the Indians and were determined to keep them penned up until they were starved. To add to their distress, the decaying carcasses of the horses soon made the water unfit to drink. After ten days of suffering they realized that a longer stay meant dying in the cave, and it was resolved to make a desperate attempt to escape that night.
The sides of the well were steep and difficult, but they had noticed a cedar growing from a crevice in the rock, the top of which reached nearly to the height of the cliff, and it seemed just possible that by its means they might be able to climb out. That night, after dark, they made the attempt and succeeded in gaining the top without being discovered by the soldiers on guard. One only, the man who had been shot in the leg, was unable to climb. He implored his comrades to take him with them, but finding that impossible, they answered that it was his life against theirs and if they remained with him or lost time in trying to get him out they would all perish together. They urged him to have a strong heart and die like a warrior; he calmly accepted the inevitable, saying only; "When you get home, tell my comrades to come back and avenge me." Then he sat down by the side of the well to await death when daylight should reveal him to his enemies. His name, Dágoi, deserves to be remembered.
Dohasän was the first to reach the top; he belonged to the Kâitséñko, and it is said that before leaving the cave he had sung the song of that warrior order in which they bid defiance to death, the same which Set-ängya afterward chanted before he sprang upon the guard and was riddled with bullets by the soldiers.
As they emerged they saw the fires of their enemies burning in various directions about the mouth of the cave. The Indians were sheltered by the darkness, but some of the soldiers heard a slight noise and fired at random in that direction, and seriously wounded Koñate, who was shot through the body. The Kiowa succeeded in making their escape, probably helping themselves to some of the Mexican horses, and carried with them their wounded comrade until they reached a noted spring, perhaps on the edge of the Staked plain, known as Pai-k`op tóñtep, "Sun-mountain spring," from its circular shape and its situation on the top of a mountain. By this time Koñate's wounds were in such condition that it seemed only a question of a few hours when he would die. Finding themselves unable to carry him in his helpless condition across the desolate plains, his friends reluctantly decided to leave him to his fate. Placing him within reach of the water, they raised over him an arbor of branches to shield him from the sun, and rode away, intending on reaching home to send back a party, in accordance with their custom, to bring back his bones for burial.
Deserted by his companions, his wounds putrefying under the hot sun, Koñate lay stretched out by the spring silently awaiting the end. The sun went down and day faded into night, when far off on the hillside he heard the cry of a wolf; the wounded man roused himself from his stupor and listened; again he heard the cry of the wolf, but this time from another direction and evidently near; despair seized him as he realized that the coyotes had scented their prey and were gathering to the feast, and now he heard the patter of the light feet and the sniffing of the animal as a wolf prowled around him; but instead of springing upon the helpless man and tearing him in pieces, the wolf came up and gently licked his wounds, then quietly lay down beside him.
Now he heard another sound in the distance, the tsó dal-tem, or eagle-bone whistle of the sun dance; it approached, and he heard the song of the k`ádó, and at last the spirit of the taíme stood before him and said: "I pity you, and shall not let you die, but you shall see your home and friends again." The taíme then sent a heavy rain to clear out his wounds and afterward talked long with him, giving him instructions for a new shield and conferring upon him mysterious powers of medicine, of which the proof and emblem should be the ä´poto staff, which he instructed him to make after his return. Then the spirit left him, saying, "Help is near." The Kiowa insist that all this was not a dream or vision, but an actual waking occurrence; but of course most of it was the delirium of fever.
As his comrades proceeded on their way, they met six Comanche warriors on their way to Mexico, to whom they told the story of their encounter, also that they would find Koñáte's dead body at the spring, and asked them to cover it from the wolves. Then they parted, the Kiowa continuing on to the northward, while the Comanche proceeded toward the spring, where they intended to camp for the night. On arriving, they were astonished to find Koñáte alive and in somewhat better condition than when his comrades had left him. Seeing that there was a chance of saving his life, the Comanche washed his wounds and fed him; next morning they put him upon one of their extra horses, and abandoning their proposed raid turned back and brought him safely to his friends and tribe, where he fully recovered and lived for many years. A few years after his return, he made several shields, as directed by the taíme, one of which still exists in possession of Dr J. D. Glennan, U.S.A., now stationed at Fort Clark, Texas; he also made the sacred ä´poto, which he carried for some time in the annual sun dance, and afterward bestowed it upon his son (i. e., nephew) K`ayä´ñti, who still lives, now an old man. Koñáte subsequently assumed the name, of Pá-tadal, "Lean-bull," which he conferred later on its present owner, commonly known to the whites as Poor-buffalo.
Captain Pope, who visited the Hueco tanks in 1854, describes the peculiar formation of the cave springs and mentions the Gúadalóñte fight of some years before, his statements being evidently derived from the Mexicans, who were disposed to magnify their own part in the affair. He says:
Fig. 122—Winter 1857—58—Horses stolen.
Besides the water contained in the tanks there are numerous holes and crevices in the mountains, which contain sufficient for every purpose to last for a considerable time. It is proper to remark that animals can not drink from the tanks; the water is taken out in buckets and thrown down the rocks until all have been supplied. Thus watering is a matter of time and labor. The peculiar formation of these mountains, their innumerable caverns and hiding places, seem to have been intended for a refuge for the Indians; nor have they neglected to avail themselves of its advantages. In one instance, however, they "reckoned without their host." About fourteen years ago these Arabs of New Mexico, the Apaches, having made a desperate foray upon the Mexicans, retreated with their plunder to these mountains. The Mexicans surprised and surrounded them, hemming them up in the rocky ravine forming the eastern tank. Here an engagement took place, in which the Indians were totally defeated and nearly exterminated, only two or three escaping. It is said that upward of one hundred of them were killed (Pacific Railroad, 1).