CHAPTER III.
Grand Pawnee Village.—The Council.
The second day after our arrival was appointed for holding the council. It was a fine frosty morning. The sun rose like a huge ball of crimson over the low hills; pouring a flood of lurid light upon the dancing waters of the Platte, and gemming with a thousand tints, the frost beads that glittered upon the tall withering grass of the prairie.
A number of us left the lodge early in the morning, and strolled towards the banks of the Platte. A few gaunt, sinewy wolf-dogs were prowling about the silent village, in search of food. The savages had not yet left their lairs, except one or two solitary individuals, muffled in their robes, who at sight of us, hurried to their abodes to give information that the strangers were stirring. Occasionally, as we passed the dark funnel-like mouth of the dwellings, the half of a face would be seen, cautiously looking out, and after staring at us for an instant, would vanish into the interior to call out the rest of the inhabitants.
We had not proceeded far, before about a dozen half-starved Indian wolf-dogs collected at our heels. Here they followed, raising their nostrils, baring their long white fangs, and uttering deep growls. Their green flashing eyes; their long bristling hair; and their tails stiffly extended as they slowly stalked after us, convinced us that they waited only for the slightest appearance of fear on our part, to commence an attack. It also plainly showed that however welcome our appearance might be to the Indians, there were some members of the village who did not participate in the general feeling of joy.
In spite, however, of this show of ill will, we continued our walk until we reached the Platte. Here we seated ourselves upon the trunk of a tree lying prostrate on the bank of the river.
In the meantime, the Indians had received intelligence of our movements, and began to edge towards the stream. The children came running openly and in droves. The old men and warriors carelessly sauntered along towards the water, and came down upon us as if by accident. Others more modest, crouched down in the long grass, creeping stealthily forward, until every stump concealed a painted form, and every bush was alive with curious faces.
Nearest to us was a tall, thin Indian, clad in an old, worn-out buffalo-robe.
There was a “gallows-bird” look about him,—no doubt some prodigal son, disinherited by a crusty old curmudgeon father. He was standing with his back half towards us, and his face turned away, apparently gazing up the river; the very attitude to “give the lie” to his eyes, which were convulsively straining towards us, from the corner of their sockets, and scanning our every movement with an intense and eager curiosity.
At length one of the party wishing to inquire about our horses, beckoned him forward. This was a signal for all the rest. They came trooping up from every quarter, under the pretence of giving information; and upon every sign made by us, about twenty tongues gabbled unintelligible answers. After spending about half an hour upon the banks, and finding that nothing was to be gained in the way of information, we turned off in the direction of the village.
It was now humming with life. The warriors were collected in small knots of five or six, and, by their vehement gestures, were apparently engaged in earnest conversation. The children were rolling and tumbling in the dirt; the squaws were busily engaged. Some were bringing from their lodges large leather sacks of shelled corn; others were spreading it out to dry, upon the leather of their buffalo-skin tents, which had been stretched out upon the ground. Others were cleansing from it the decayed kernels and packing it up in small sacks of a whitish undressed leather, resembling parchment. These were then deposited in cache-holes[D] for a winter’s store.
[D] The Cache, is a large hole dug in the ground like a cistern. It is narrow at the top (about four feet in diameter) but wider as it descends, until its form somewhat resembles that of a jug. It will contain about an hundred bushels of corn.
Upon leaving their villages, the Indians deposit the corn which is to serve for their winter’s store in granaries of this description, and cover the apertures with earth, so that it is impossible, for a person unacquainted with their exact position, to discover the entrance. The name Cache is given by the French traders who derive it from the word cacher (to conceal.)
At a distance from the village, a band of females were slowly wending along the top of one of the low prairie ridges, to their daily labour in the small plantations of corn. These are scattered in every direction round the village, wherever a spot of rich, black soil, gives promise of a bountiful harvest. Some of them are as much as eight miles distant from the town.
There is a fearful uncertainty hanging round the lives of these females. At the rising of the sun they depart to their toil, often never to return. They are constantly exposed to the attacks of lurking foes, who steal down upon their villages, to cut off stragglers. They come and disappear with equal silence and celerity. Their presence is unknown, until the long absence of a friend, or a mutilated body, found sometimes after the lapse of several days, conveys to their friends a thrilling token, that the hand of the destroyer has been busied among them, and the hour of vengeance has passed.
As we proceeded, we were again waited upon by a committee of the dogs of the town. They formed in a train behind us, with the same expression of ill feeling that had been manifested by their predecessors. But this last display of rancour was of short duration; for a stout, tattered Indian, who looked as if his last ablution had been performed during his infancy, rushed out from one of the lodges, and with a few vigorous applications of his foot changed the aspect of affairs. In an instant the glistening eyes of the curs sunk from fury to meekness; the hair which bristled boldly up was sleeked quietly down to their backs; the tails which had stood out as erect as bars of iron, were tucked snugly away between their legs, and the snarls were converted into yells. In short, the canine committee were unmercifully beaten, and fled yelping and howling in every direction.
Our attention was now called to the long, lean, wiery old heralds, who were stalking through the town, calling forth the warriors, and exhorting them to prepare for the council. Occasionally they stopped to gossip with some gray-headed crony, who stood blinking like an owl at the entrance of his dwelling. At other times they paused to bestow a little wholesome advice upon some wild urchin, guilty of some breach of decorum towards their guests.
Upon reaching the lodge of the chief, we found that active preparations had been made for holding the council. The goods and presents which had been received hastily into the building, were now piled up carefully. The lodge had been swept clean; a large cheery fire was crackling in the centre. The rabble crowd of loungers and hangers-on had been routed; and besides the family of the chief, we were the only occupants of the spacious building.
At mid-day the chiefs and braves began to assemble. They were full dressed; many of the young warriors had spent the whole morning in preparation, and now presented themselves, fully ornamented for the meeting.
As the hour for the opening of the council grew nearer, the tall, muffled warriors poured in, in one continuous stream. They moved quietly to the places allotted them, and seating themselves in silence round the chief, according to their rank. There was no wrangling, or bustle for precedence; each knew his station, and if perchance one of them occupied the place of some more distinguished warrior, upon his appearance he immediately rose and resigned them his seat.
The crowd continued flowing in until the lodge was filled almost to suffocation. As they came in, they seated themselves, until five or six circles were formed, one beyond the other, the last ranging against the wall of the building. In the ring nearest the chiefs, sat the principal braves, or those warriors whose deeds of blood entitled them to a high rank in the councils of the nation. The more distant circles were filled by such young men of the village as were admitted to its councils. The passage leading to the open air, was completely blocked up with a tight wedged mass of women and children, who dared venture no nearer to the deliberations of the tribe.
In the course of half an hour, nearly all the principal warriors had assembled. The chief then filled a large stone pipe and lighting it, drew a few puffs, inhaling the smoke into his lungs, and blowing it out in long blasts through his nostrils. He then passed it to the whites, who, each having inhaled a few whiffs in their turn, handed it to their neighbours. These again passed it on, until it had made the circuit of the whole assembly. While this was going on our attention was attracted by a violent commotion in the passage. In a moment afterwards the naked head and shoulders of the Wild Horse towered above the crowd. He forced his way through them, and burst naked into the building. Here he seated himself in the inner ring, leaning his back against one of the pillars which supported the roof. The chief scowled grimly at the disturbance caused by his entrance. The Wild Horse, however, was a giant, whose wrath was not to be courted, and the matter passed off in silence. After a short time Mr. E—— rose and addressed the council, stating the views of the United States, and at the same time, the conditions of the treaty.
During the whole of the address, every sound was hushed into a deep and thrilling silence. Not a form stirred; but all sat with their eyes steadily fixed upon his countenance. There was not even a long-drawn breath to break in upon the voice of the speaker; though now and then, some proposal, which met with peculiar approbation, would elicit a loud grunt of approval, from the deep, sonorous chests of the whole assemblage.
When Mr. E—— had finished his address, the chief of the Grand Pawnees rose and folded his heavy buffalo-robe round his body. His right arm and breast were left bare. The other hand and lower part of his body, were completely hid by the dark folds of his shaggy mantle. For a few moments he stood facing Mr. E—— in silence; then stepping forward, his chest seemed to swell out,—he threw back his head, and raised his arm, with one of the fingers slightly extended, as if to command attention. He then paused and gazed with a hawk eye upon the iron faces of his warriors. The pause and glance were momentary; and without moving the position of his arm, he commenced his harangue. It was short, energetic, and abounding with all the high-wrought figures of Indian oratory. As he proceeded he grew more and more animated; his chest rose and fell; his finely modulated voice, which at first had stolen like music over the stillness, grew louder and louder, until its deep, fierce tones rang like thunder through the building. He threw his robe from his shoulders, leaving bare his almost convulsed frame. He fixed his eagle eye upon us; he extended his bare arms towards us, he waved them over our heads, with a wild fury of gesticulation. Had it not been for his words of friendship, our fancies would have led us to imagine him some demon, pouring out the most fearful threats of vengeance. For about ten minutes his voice rolled through the lodge. Suddenly he fell from his loud, energetic language to the silvery, guttural tones natural to him, and in a short time finished his harangue.
After him, his son, the second chief of the tribe, rose and commenced an address. While he was proceeding, a noise of voices arose at the extreme part of the lodge, near the passage. At first they were low and smothered; but at last they broke out into loud and angry altercation. The Wild Horse was crouching at the foot of one of the pillars, with his hands interlocked with each other, his arms encompassing his legs, and his body nearly hid by the long matted hair which hung over it. He was roused by the disturbance; but at first contented himself by an occasional sharp word addressed to the crowd. This silenced it for a few moments; but at last the brawling voices broke out into open clamour. The savage started to his feet, stalked among them, shook his brawny arms over their heads, and thundered a few stern words in their ears. This had the effect of magic in soothing the angry passions of the disputants. The voices sank into silence, and the noise was hushed. For a few moments he maintained his menacing attitude over them; and then resuming his station at the foot of the pillar, the chief proceeded in his harangue.
When he concluded, several chiefs rose and addressed the party, welcoming them to their homes, with the kindest expressions of hospitality. At the same time they expressed their entire acquiescence in the terms of the treaty. After them several of the braves and warriors rose, and spoke to the same effect. When they had concluded, the following day was appointed for signing the treaty. The pipe was again passed round, and the council breaking up, the warriors left the lodge.
During the whole of the deliberation, which lasted about six hours, the interior of the building was excessively hot. The instant it was cleared, we strolled out into the open prairie. A large crowd was gathered at a distance. We went towards it, and found it assembled to witness the slaughter of one of our oxen—the destined victim for the ratification of the treaty. The hunter who was to enact the part of butcher, had loaded his rifle, and now moved forward. The crowd spread off on each side, leaving the animal exposed to view. The beast, then for the first time seemed to have a suspicion of the fate that awaited him, raised his head, and gazed steadily at his butcher. The hunter took a few steps—the gun was to his cheek—the trigger clicked—we heard the bullet strike—the ox reared his heavy frame, and fell forward on the ground; but the ball had merely fractured the skull without being fatal. By degrees the animal raised himself from the ground upon his haunches. His head hung heavily forward, and a thin streak of blood trickled down from the bullet hole in his forehead. Still he feebly supported his form upon his fore feet. His huge body rocked to and fro in the last extremity of anguish, and deep bellowings burst from his heaving lungs, resembling the tortured cries of a human sufferer. A second time the hunter advanced and fired; the ball was fatal; it crushed through the bone of the skull, and the beast fell forward with a deep groan. The crowd, raising a loud cry of exultation and delight, closed round him. The exhibition was sickening; we turned away and left the Indian butchers to their work.