This whole scene ([illustrated] on page 1284) is enacted in much less time than it has taken to write, the Indians being well practised in their sham fights before they come to taking scalps in actual battle. Brandishing the scalp in one hand and the knife in the other, the exultant conqueror utters the terrible “scalping yell,” which even when given in a mock battle seems as if it were uttered by a demon rather than a man.
The scalped man is always supposed to be dead or dying, and, as the scalp is always accepted as a proof of death, the native warrior would never scalp a man whom he thought likely to recover. There have, however, been many instances, where in the heat of battle a man has been scalped while stunned, though without a mortal wound, and has afterward recovered and lived for many years.
When the battle is over and the warrior returns to his home, he dresses the scalp for preservation. This is usually done by stretching it in a sort of battledore, made by bending a flexible stick and lashing the ends together, and it is then solemnly “danced” before it takes its place with the other valuables of the owner. Some of the scalps are quite small, not larger than a penny, and are hung on the bridles of the horses, or the handles of clubs.
Generally, however, they are, when quite dry, painted on the inside so as to resemble a human face, and hung to the end of a long, slight pole. On a fine day, the head chief of an encampment mostly orders that the scalps should be hung out, and sets the example, by protruding from the top of his own hut the pole on which are hung the scalps which he has taken. All the warriors at once follow his example, so that by walking round the village and counting the scalps, a stranger can learn the standing of every warrior.
It has been mentioned that many of the scalps are very small. Their limited size is thus accounted for. If a warrior be hurried, as is mostly the case when scalping a fallen man in the heat of battle, he contents himself with the scalp alone. But, if he should have leisure, he removes the whole of the hair-bearing portion of the skin, and treats it as follows. He first cuts out a small circular piece containing the crown of the head, this being the actual scalp. The remainder of the hair he divides into little locks, and with them he fringes the seams of his leggings, the arms and edges of his coat, the shaft of his spear, the handle of his club, etc., etc. The whole of Mah-to-toh-pa’s dress was covered with fringes made from the hair of those whom he slew in battle.
A dress thus ornamented is valued beyond all price, and there is scarcely any price sufficiently high to tempt a warrior to part with these trophies of his valor.
The “scalp dance” is a ceremony quite in keeping with the custom of securing the trophy. A scalp dance of the Sioux is thus described by Mr. Catlin:—“Among this tribe, as I learned whilst residing with them, it is danced in the night by the light of their torches, just before going to bed. When a war party returns from a war excursion, bringing home with them the scalps of their enemies, they generally dance them for fifteen nights in succession, vaunting forth the most extravagant boasts of their wonderful prowess in war, whilst they brandish their war weapons in their hands.
“A number of young women are selected to aid (though they do not actually join in) the dance, by stepping into the centre of the ring and holding up the scalps that have been recently taken, while the warriors dance, or rather jump, around in a circle, brandishing their weapons, and barking and yelping in the most frightful manner, all jumping on both feet at a time, with a simultaneous stamp, and blow, and thrust of their weapons, with which it would seem as if they were actually cutting and carving each other to pieces. During these frantic leaps and yells, every man distorts his face to the utmost power of his muscles, darting about his glaring eyeballs, and snapping his teeth as if he were in the heat—and actually breathing through his nostrils the very hissing death—of battle.
“No description that can be written could ever convey more than a feeble outline of the frightful effects of these scenes enacted in the dead and darkness of night, under the glaring light of their blazing flambeaux; nor could all the years allotted to mortal man in the least obliterate or deface the vivid impression that one scene of this kind would leave upon his memory.”
Mr. Catlin suggests, with much reason, that these dances are propitiatory of the spirits of the slain men, showing how highly their valor was prized by the conquerors, and the great respect and estimation in which they were held, though the fortune of war had gone against them.