Ä′piatañ went on first to Pine Ridge, where he was well received by the Sioux, who had much to say of the new messiah in the west. He was urged to stop and join them in the Ghost dance, but refused and hurried on to Fort Washakie, where he met the northern Arapaho and the Shoshoni, whom he called the “northern Comanches.” Here the new prophecy was the one topic of conversation, and after stopping only long enough to learn the proper route to the Paiute country, he went on over the Union Pacific railroad to Nevada. On arriving at the agency at Pyramid lake the Paiute furnished him a wagon and an Indian guide across the country to the home of Wovoka in the upper end of Mason valley. The next day he was admitted to his presence. The result was a complete disappointment. A single interview convinced him of the utter falsity of the pretensions of the messiah and the deceptive character of the hopes held out to the believers.
Saddened and disgusted, Ä′piatañ made no stay, but started at once on his return home. On his way back he stopped at Bannock agency at Fort Hall, Idaho, and from there sent a letter to his people, stating briefly that he had seen the messiah and that the messiah was a fraud. This was the first intimation the Kiowa had received from an Indian source that their hopes were not well grounded. The author was present when the letter was received at Anadarko and read to the assembled Indians by Ä′piatañ’s sister, an educated woman named Laura Dunmoi, formerly of Carlisle school. The result was a division of opinion. Some of the Indians, feeling that the ground had been taken from under them, at once gave up all hope and accepted the inevitable of despair. Others were disposed to doubt the genuineness of the letter, as it had come through the medium of a white man, and decided to withhold their decision until they could hear directly from the delegate himself. Ä′piatañ returned in the middle of February, 1891. The agent sent notice to the various camps on the reservation for the Indians to assemble at the agency to hear his report, and also sent a request to Cheyenne and Arapaho agency to have Sitting Bull come down at the same time so that the Indians might hear both sides of the story.
Fig. 87—Ä′piatañ.
PL. CVIII
KIOWA SUMMER SHELTER
The council was held at the agency at Anadarko, Oklahoma, on February 19, 1891, the author being among those present on the occasion. It was a great gathering, representing every tribe on the reservation, there being also in attendance a number of Arapaho who had accompanied Sitting Bull from the other agency. Everything said was interpreted in turn into English, Kiowa, Comanche, Caddo, Wichita, and Arapaho. This was a slow process, and necessitated frequent repetition, so that the talk occupied all day. Ä′piatañ first made his report, which was interpreted into the various languages. Questions were asked by the agent, Mr Adams, and by leading Indians, and after the full details had been obtained in this manner Sitting Bull, the Arapaho, was called on to make his statement. The scene was dramatic in the highest degree. Although in a certain sense Sitting Bull himself was on trial, it meant more than that to the assembled tribe. Their power, prosperity, and happiness had gone down, their very race was withering away before the white man. The messiah doctrine promised a restoration of the old conditions through supernatural assistance. If this hope was without foundation, the Indian had no future and his day was forever past.
After some preliminaries Ä′piatañ arose and told his story. He had gone on as related until he arrived at the home of Wovoka in Mason valley. Here he was told that the messiah could not be seen until the next day. On being finally admitted to his presence he found him lying down, his face covered with a blanket, and singing to himself. When he had finished the song the messiah uncovered his face and asked Ä′piatañ, through an interpreter, what he wanted. As Ä′piatañ had approached with great reverence under the full belief that the messiah was omniscient, able to read his secret thoughts and to speak all languages, this question was a great surprise to him, and his faith at once began to waver. However, he told who he was and why he had come, and then asked that he be permitted to see some of his dead relatives, particularly his little child. Wovoka replied that this was impossible, and that there were no spirits there to be seen. With their mixture of Christian and aboriginal ideas many of the Indians had claimed that this messiah was the veritable Christ and bore upon his hands and feet the scars of the crucifixion. Not seeing these scars, Ä′piatañ expressed some doubt as to whether Wovoka was really the messiah he had come so far to see, to which Wovoka replied that he need go no farther for there was no other messiah, and went on to say that he had preached to Sitting Bull and the others and had given them a new dance, but that some of them, especially the Sioux, had twisted things and made trouble, and now Ä′piatañ had better go home and tell his people to quit the whole business. Discouraged and sick at heart Ä′piatañ went out from his presence, convinced that there was no longer a god in Israel.
After the story had been told and interpreted to each of the tribes, Sitting Bull was called on for his statement. He told how he had visited the messiah a year before and what the messiah had said to him. The two versions were widely different, and there can be little question that Wovoka made claims and prophecies, supported by hypnotic performances, from which he afterward receded when he found that the excitement had gone beyond his control and resulted in an Indian outbreak. Sitting Bull insisted on the truth of his own representations, and when accused by Ä′piatañ of deceiving the Indians in order to obtain their property he replied that he had never asked them for the ponies which they had given him, and that if they did not believe what he had told them they could come and take their ponies again. Ä′piatañ replied that that was not the Kiowa road; what had once been given was not taken back. Sitting Bull spoke in a low musical voice, and the soft Arapaho syllables contrasted pleasantly with the choking sounds of the Kiowa and the boisterous loudness of the Wichita. I could not help a feeling of pity for him when at the close of the council he drew his blanket around him and went out from the gathering to cross the river to the Caddo camp, attended only by his faithful Arapahos. For his services in reporting against the dance Ä′piatañ received a medal from President Harrison.