The method by which information of this affair was communicated to me at a distance, is one in common use among the Indians, and, in most cases, it is perfectly explicit and satisfactory. The men of the same tribe are extensively acquainted with the totems which belong to each, and if on any record of this kind, the figure of a man appears without any designatory mark, it is immediately understood that he is a Sioux, or at least a stranger. Indeed, in most instances, as in that above mentioned, the figures of men are not used at all, merely the totem, or sirname, being given. In cases where the information to be communicated is that the party mentioned is starving, the figure of a man is sometimes drawn, and his mouth is painted white, or white paint may be smeared about the mouth of the animal, if it happens to be one, which is his totem.
After visiting the trader on Red River, I started with the intention of coming to the States, but at Lake Winnipeg I heard that the war between Great Britain and the United States still continued, with such disturbances on the frontier as would render it difficult for me to pass with safety. I was therefore compelled to stop by myself at that place, where I was after some time joined by Pe-shau-ba, Waw-zhe-kah-maish-koon, and others, to the number of three lodges. The old companion and associate of Pe-shau-ba, Waw-so, had been accidentally killed by an Assinneboin in hunting. Here we lived in plenty and contentment, but Pe-shau-ba, upon whom the death of his friend Waw-so had made some impression, was soon taken violently ill. He was conscious that his end was approaching, and very frequently told us he should not live long. One day he said to me, “I remember before I came to live in this world, I was with the Great Spirit above. And I often looked down, and saw men upon the earth. I saw many good and desirable things, and among others, a beautiful woman, and as I looked day after day at the woman, he said to me, ‘Pe-shau-ba, do you love the woman you are so often looking at?’ I told him I did. Then he said to me, ‘Go down and spend a few winters on the earth. You cannot stay long, and you must remember to be always kind and good to my children whom you see below.’ So I came down, but I have never forgotten what was said to me. I have always stood in the smoke between the two bands when my people have fought with their enemies. I have not struck my friends in their lodges. I have disregarded the foolishness of young men who would have offended me, but have always been ready and willing to lead our brave men against the Sioux. I have always gone into battle painted black, as I now am, and I now hear the same voice that talked to me before I came to this world: it tells me I can remain here no longer. To you, my brother, I have been a protector, and you will be sorry when I leave you; but be not like a woman, you will soon follow in my path.” He then put on the new clothes I had given him to wear below, walked out of the lodge, looked at the sun, the sky, the lake, and the distant hills; then come in, and lay down composedly in his place in the lodge, and in a few minutes ceased to breathe.
After the death of Pe-shau-ba, I wished to have made another attempt to come to the States, but Waw-zhe-kah-maish-koon prevented me. I lived with him the remainder of the winter, and in the spring went to Ne-bo-wese-be, (Dead River,) where we planted corn, and spent the summer. In the fall, after the corn was gathered, we went to our hunting grounds.
An old Ojibbeway, called Crooked Finger, had been living in my lodge about a year; in all that time, having never killed any thing. When I started to hunt buffalo, he followed me, and we came at the same time in view of a large herd, when the old man endeavoured to raise a quarrel about my right to use those hunting grounds. “You Ottawwaws,” said he, “have no right in this part of the country, and though I cannot control all of you, I have you, at last, now in my power, and I am determined that if you do not go back to your own country from this very spot, I will kill you.” I had no apprehension on account of his threat, and I defied him to injure or molest me. After an hour or more of altercation, he crept up, and at length began to shoot at the herd of buffalo. Soon after he had left me, two Ottawwaws who had overheard the quarrel as they were coming up, and had concealed themselves in the bushes near, joined me. The old man, after three or four unsuccessful shots at the buffalo, turned and went home, ashamed alike of his insolence to me, and of his want of success. Then I went forward with the two young Ottawwaws who had joined me, and we killed a considerable number of fat cows.
Shortly after this, when I had been hunting all day, on returning home late at night, I found a very unusual gloominess in the countenances of all the inmates of my lodge. I saw there a man named Chik-ah-to, who was almost a stranger to me. He, and all the rest of them, seemed as if cast down by some sudden and unexpected bad news, and when I asked my wife the cause of this apparent distress, she returned me no answer. At length, Waw-zhe-kah-maish-koon, in reply to my earnest inquiries, told me, with the utmost seriousness, and a voice of solemn concern, that the Great Spirit had come down again. “What, has he come again so soon?” said I; “He comes often of late, but I suppose we must hear what he has to say.” The light and irreverent manner in which I treated the subject, was very offensive to many of the Indians, and they apparently all determined to withhold from me all communications respecting it. This was to me a matter of little consequence, and I went, as usual, to my hunting on the following morning. My own indifference and contempt for these pretended revelations of the Divine will kept me in ignorance for some time of the purport of the present one. But at a subsequent period of my life, I found that though my skepticism might not be offensive to the Great God, in whose name these revelations were made to us, still it was highly so to those who were pleased to style themselves his messengers, and that by incurring their ill will I exposed myself to much inconvenience and danger.
In the spring of the year, after we had assembled at the trading house at Pembinah, the chiefs built a great lodge and called all the men together to receive some information concerning the newly revealed will of the Great Spirit. The messenger of this revelation was Manito-o-geezhik, a man of no great fame but well known to most of the Ojibbeways of that country. He had disappeared for about one year, and in that time he pretended to have visited the abode of the Great Spirit, and to have listened to his instructions, but some of the traders informed me he had only been to St. Louis, on the Mississippi.
The Little Clam took it upon him to explain the object of the meeting. He then sang and prayed, and proceeded to detail the principal features of the revelation to Manito-o-geezhik. The Indians were no more to go against their enemies. They must no longer steal, defraud, or lie; they must neither be drunk, nor eat their food, nor drink their broth when it was hot. Few of the injunctions of Manito-o-geezhik were troublesome or difficult of observance, like those of the Shawnee prophet. Many of the maxims and instructions communicated to the Indians at this time were of a kind to be permanently and valuably useful to them, and the effect of their influence was manifest for two or three years in the more orderly conduct, and somewhat amended condition of the Indians.
When we were ready to separate from the trading-house, Ais-ainse, (the little clam,) invited several of us, myself in particular, to accompany him to his residence at Man-e-to Sah-gi-e-gun, or Spirit Lake,[26] but I would not join him, as I wished to remain in a woody country for the purpose of hunting the fur-bearing animals. Ten men, among whom were Wa-ge-tote and Gi-ah-ge-git, together with great numbers of women, accepted his invitation and went with him. A young man, a friend of the Little Clam, named Se-gwun-oons, (spring deer,) before they separated from us at Pembinah, predicted that he would be killed at Spirit Lake. Many other predictions he made, which were verified from day to day, until the Indians came to have such confidence in him that his admonitions of impending danger to those who should go to Spirit Lake began to be so much regarded, that Wa-me-gon-a-biew and many others became alarmed and returned. Last of all came Match-e-toons, a foolish and lying young man, who reported that the indications of danger thickening around the Little Clam and his band, he had stolen away in the night, and the next morning, though he had fled a considerable distance, he heard the guns of the Sioux at the camp he had left. We did not immediately credit the account of this man, but waited anxiously from day to day, till at last the chiefs determined to send twenty men to ascertain whether there was any foundation for his statement. This party, when they arrived at the place where the Little Clam had been encamped, found that the whole band had been cut off. First, and in advance of all the camp, lay the body of Se-gwun-oons, the young man who had predicted the attack before he left Pembinah. Near him lay some young men of his own age, and farther back the stout body of the Little Clam, stuck full of arrows. In the camp the ground was strewed with the bodies of the women and children. At a distance was the body of one of the Sioux, in a sitting posture, and covered with the puk-kwi, or mats, which had belonged to the Ojibbeway lodges. Not one escaped except Match-e-toons, but some afterwards doubted whether he had not fled in the time of the fight, instead of the evening before, as he had stated. Thus died the Little Clam, the last of the considerable men of his age belonging to the Ojibbeways of Red River. Our village seemed desolate after the recent loss of so many men.
We then went down to Dead River, planted corn, and spent the summer there. Sha-gwaw-koo-sink, an Ottawwaw, a friend of mine and an old man, first introduced the cultivation of corn among the Ojibbeways of the Red River country.
In the ensuing fall when we went to our hunting grounds, the wolves were unusually numerous and troublesome. They attacked and killed my horse, and several of my dogs. One day, when I had killed a moose, and gone with all my family to bring in the meat, I found on my return, the wolves had pulled down my lodge, carried off many skins, carrying-straps, and, in fine, whatever articles of skin, or leather they could come at. I killed great numbers, but they still continued to trouble me, particularly an old dog wolf, who had been so often at my door that I knew his appearance, and was perfectly acquainted with his habits. He used, whenever he came, to advance boldly upon my dogs and drive them in. He would then prowl about to seize whatever he could find of food. At last, I loaded my gun and went out, when he sprang directly at me, but I shot him before he had time to fasten upon me. Half his hair had fallen off.