confusion. In this promiscuous throng, chiefs, doctors, women, children, and dogs, were mingled, Wak-a-dah-ha-hee having descended from his high place to mingle with the frightened throng. Dismayed at the approach of so strange and unaccountable an object, the Mandans stood their ground but a few moments; when, by an order of the chiefs, all hands were ensconced within the piquets of their village, and all the warriors armed for desperate self-defence. A few moments brought the boat in front of the village, and all was still and quiet as death; not a Mandan was to be seen upon the banks. The steamer was moored, and three or four of the chiefs soon after walked boldly down the bank, and on to her deck, with a spear in one hand, and a calumet, or pipe of peace in the other. The moment they stepped on board, they met (to their great surprise and joy) their old friend Major Sanford, their agent, which circumstance put an instant end to all their fears.”
It was long, however, before the rain-maker could be persuaded to come forward, or to listen to the assurance that his medicine had nothing whatever to do with the arrival of the ship. Unwilling to lose the fame of having produced
such a phenomenon, he continued to assert that he knew of its coming, and by his magic had caused it to approach. But he was little regarded in the universal bustle and gossip which was going on respecting the mysteries of the “thunder-boat.”
Meanwhile the day passed on, and towards evening a cloud began to rise above the horizon. Wak-a-dah-ha-hee no sooner observed this, than, with shield on his arm and bow in hand, he was again upon the lodge. “Stiffened and braced to the last sinew, he stood with his face and his shield presented to the cloud, and his bow drawn. He drew the eyes of the whole village upon him, as he vaunted forth his superhuman powers; and at the same time commanded the cloud to come nearer, that he might draw down its contents upon their heads and the corn-fields of the Mandans. In this wise he stood, waving his shield over his head, stamping his foot, and frowning as he drew his bow and threatened the heavens, commanding it to rain—his bow was bent, and the arrow drawn to its head, was sent to the cloud, [210] and he exclaimed, ‘My friends, it is done! Wak-a-dah-ha-hee’s arrow has entered that black cloud, and
the Mandans will be wet with the water of the skies!’ His predictions were true—in a few moments the cloud was over the village, and the rain fell in torrents. He stood for some time wielding his weapons, and boasting of the efficacy of his medicine to those who had been about him, but were now driven to the shelter of their wigwams; and descended from his high place (in which he had been perfectly drenched) prepared to receive the honours and homage that were due to one so potent in his mysteries; and to receive the style and title of medicine-man.” Catlin further informs us, that when the Mandans undertake to make it rain, they always succeed, for their ceremonies never stop until rain begins to fall: and also, that he who has once made it rain never attempts it again; his medicine is undoubted—and on future occasions of the kind he stands aloof, giving an opportunity to other young men who are ambitious to signalize themselves in the same way.
A superstition similar to that of the Mandans prevails also among the Caffers of Southern Africa, and among the natives of Ceylon. The Caffer chiefs, attended by their warriors, proceed with
much ceremony, and laden with presents, to the dwelling of the rain-doctor, where a grand feast is held while certain charms are in process. The impostor at length dismisses his guests with a variety of instructions, on the due observance of which the success of their application is to depend. These instructions are generally of the most trifling kind: they are to travel home in perfect silence; or they are not to look back; or they are to compel every one they meet to turn back and go home with them. Should rain happen to fall, the credit is given to the rain-doctor; but should the drought continue, the fault is laid upon the failure of the applicants to fulfil these instructions with sufficient exactness.
Major Forbes gives an account of an old rain-doctor in Ceylon, who had plied a lucrative trade for many years, and at length wished to retire from business. But the people were highly incensed at the idea of losing his services, especially as a most distressing drought was at that time the scourge of the land. So persuaded were they of his powers, that they all agreed, that when required to do so by a whole village, he should be compelled to furnish rain in sufficient quantities;
and that if he was insensible to rewards, he should be tormented with thorns or beaten into compliance. In vain did the poor old impostor at length declare the truth, and assure the people that he had no power whatever to make it rain. They treated his words with disdain, and dragged their victim from village to village, inflicting stripes at every halt. Even the chief of the district had determined on having rain by force, if fair means should fail, and ordered the rain-doctor to be taken to the village where rain was most required. On his way thither he was so fortunate as to meet with Major Forbes, who took him under his protection, and probably saved his life, though not without some difficulty, for it so happened that a few slight showers fell near his own village, while all the rest of the neighbourhood was suffering the extremity of drought.
Melancholy indeed is the condition of these poor people; in utter ignorance of the source of all the providential mercies bestowed upon them, and, therefore, made the dupes and credulous followers of knaves and impostors of every kind!