James's Account of S. H. Long's Expedition, 1819-1820, part 2

by Edwin James; Stephen H. Long; Thomas Say

We have before observed, that they take great pleasure in relating and hearing the narration of fabulous legends. The following specimen will serve to exemplify their taste in this way.

A bison bull, an ant, and a tortoise, agreed to undertake a joint war excursion, against the village of a neighbouring nation. As the latter associate was a slow walker, it was mutually decided in council, that he should set out on the journey immediately, to be followed in a short time by his more active companions. The tortoise accordingly departed alone, making his way through the grass, with as much rapidity as possible. After a proper interval had elapsed, the bull also set out; and lest he should lose his fellow traveller, he consented to take him on his back. On their way the two champions were obliged to cross a miry place, in the midst of which they overtook the tortoise, struggling onward with {51} the utmost labour, and apparently almost exhausted. They did not fail, as they passed gaily by the sluggish reptile, to express their surprise at his unusually tardy movements, and at the circumstance of his being apparently almost subdued by the first obstacle that presented itself. The tortoise, however, not at all discouraged, requested them to continue their journey, and expressed his confident expectation of being able to extricate himself from the mire, without the aid which they did not seem forward in offering to him. The two companions arrived at the village of the enemy, and were so incautious in their approaches to it, as to be discovered by the inhabitants, who sallied out upon them, and succeeded in wounding them both. The tortoise at length reached the village, and was also discovered, but had the additional misfortune of being taken prisoner.

To punish him for his presumption, the enemy resolved to put him to death in such a manner as would be most painful to him. They accordingly threatened him successively with a number of different forms of torture, such as baking in hot embers, boiling, &c., with each of which the captive artfully expressed his entire satisfaction. They finally proposed to drown him; and this mode of punishment being so earnestly protested against by the tortoise, they determined to carry it into immediate execution.

With this view, several of the enemy carried him out into a deep part of the river, and threw him in.

The tortoise, thus released, and, through the ignorance of the captors in the art of torturing, abandoned to an element in which he could act freely and with much power, dived down from their view, and rising again, dragged two or three of them under water successively, and scalped them. Then rising above the surface of the water, he exhibited the scalps triumphantly to the enemy, who stood in {52} crowds upon the bank of the river, unable to injure him. Content with his fortunate achievement, the tortoise now journeyed homeward; and on arriving at his lodge, he found there the bull and ant, both in bed, groaning piteously with their wounds.

Upon the reality of such stories, many of the auditors seem to rely with implicit faith, particularly as their occurrence is referred to the chronology of former times, by such a prefatory notice as "once upon a time." The narrator proceeds with a degree of gravity of feature suitable to the nature of the events of his story; and notes a variety of little circumstances in detail, which contribute much to give the whole an air of truth to his auditors, who listen with an undivided attention, uttering occasionally an interjection, as their feelings are excited.

That the inferior animals did, in ancient times, march to battle with simultaneous regularity, that they conversed intelligibly, and performed all the different actions of men, many of them appear to admit, with as much faith as many equally absurd doctrines are believed in Christendom. But these qualities are supposed to be no longer inherent; and if an animal should now speak with the voice of man, it is either the effect of the immediate inspiration of the Wahconda, or the apparent animal is no other than the Wahconda himself incarnate.

The Indians sometimes indulge in pleasantry in their conversation; and Shaumonekusse seemed to be eminently witty—a quality strongly indicated by his well-marked features of countenance. Their wit, however, is generally obscene, particularly when in conversation with the squaws.

Washingguhsahba, conversing familiarly with a Frenchman, who had long resided in the Omawhaw village, observed that the white people, being in the habit of reading books with the desire of acquiring knowledge, probably knew the cause of the difference of colour which exists between themselves and {53} the Indian; he therefore requested information from the Frenchman on this subject. The latter, assuming an air of great gravity, assured him that the cause was very well known, and was no other than that the Indian was formed of red horse-dung. The chief, with every appearance of candour, which, however, he did not feel, instantly placed his hand on the arm of his companion, and replied that this observation was a convincing proof of the great knowledge of the white people, and that they were perfectly familiar with the early operations of the Master of Life. He had no doubt, he said, that they were equally well informed as to the matter out of which they were themselves formed; but if he, a poor ignorant Indian, with no knowledge but his own, might venture to give his opinion, he would say, that they were formed of the excrement of the dog, baked white in the prairie.

They sometimes employ an indirect method of communicating information, and of explaining some particular acts of their own, which may have been erroneously construed by others.