Thus hilariously ended Chicago's part in the Winnebago War. Its speedy and bloodless conclusion was due primarily to the energetic measures of Governor Cass. From Chicago he had passed up the western shore of Lake Michigan to Green Bay, and entering the Fox River had come again to the place of council at Butte des Morts, after a circuit of eighteen hundred miles. The prompt movement of troops from every direction upon the country of the Winnebagoes quickly convinced them of the hopelessness of resistance. From Jefferson Barracks, Fort Snelling, and Fort Howard, detachments of regulars converged upon the disaffected tribesmen, while a force of volunteers from Galena under General Dodge marched overland toward the Wisconsin Portage. On August 11 Cass concluded with the tribes concerned the treaty of Butte des Morts, which settled, for the time being, the boundary questions which had grown out of the Treaty of Prairie du Chien of 1825.[792] Although the Winnebagoes were parties to the treaty, the liberty was reserved by the United States of punishing the perpetrators of the recent outrages and exacting from them guaranties of good conduct in the future.
[792] Treaties between the United States of America and the Several Indian Tribes, from 1778 to 1837, 412-15.
The treaty concluded, Cass returned to Detroit, while the military continued its task of running down the culprits wanted. On September 1 the troops from Fort Howard under command of Major Whistler encamped at the Fox-Wisconsin Portage.[793] The following day three separate messages arrived from the hostile Winnebago encampment announcing that the murderers, WeKau and Red Bird, would be surrendered the day after, and begging the military not to strike. The murders at Prairie du Chien had been committed deliberately in accordance with the Indian law of retaliation. From their standpoint the murderers had perpetrated no crime, but had performed a meritorious and public-spirited act. Yet now that the white man's armies were at hand, they voluntarily surrendered themselves to save their countrymen from further punishment.
[793] Thomas L. McKenney's narrative, Wisconsin Historical Collections, V, 178 ff.
About noon of the following day a body of Indians was descried approaching Whistler's camp. As they drew nearer the voice of Red Bird singing his death song could be heard. The military was drawn out in line to receive the delegation and a dramatic ceremony ensued. On the right and slightly advanced was the band of musicians. In front of the center, at a distance of a few paces, stood the murderers. Red Bird and WeKau; on their right and left, forming a semicircular group, were the Winnebagoes, who had accompanied them. All eyes were fixed on the magnificent figure of Red Bird: six feet in height, erect, and perfectly proportioned, his very fingers "models of beauty"; on his face the most noble and winning expression; his every movement imbued with grace and stateliness; his dress of barbaric splendor, consisting of a suit of white deer skin appropriately fringed and decorated, and over the breast and back a fold of scarlet cloth; no wonder he seemed to the spectators, even of the hostile race, "a prince born to command and worthy to be obeyed."
The effect of Red Bird's presence was heightened by the contrast, in all outward respects, presented by the miserable WeKau. "Meagre—cold—dirty in his person and dress—crooked in form—like the starved wolf, gaunt, hungry, and bloodthirsty," his entire appearance accorded with the conception of a fiend who could scalp a babe in the cradle.
Red Bird stood erect without moving a muscle or altering the expression on his face. The music having ceased and all being seated except the speakers, the latter began their address. Its substance was that two of the murderers had voluntarily surrendered themselves in response to the white man's demand; as their friends they had come in with them, and hoped their white brothers would agree to accept the horses they had brought in satisfaction of the offense. They asked kind treatment for their friends, and urged that they should not be put in irons. The spokesman for the whites replied with much advice, which was doubtless excellent from the white man's point of view. They were told that the prisoners should be tried by the same laws as the white man, and the promise was given that for the present they should not be put in irons.
At the conclusion of the harangue Red Bird stood up facing Major Whistler. In physique and bearing the latter—the same magnificent athlete who had bested the champion of the natives in the Fort Dearborn foot race a score of years before—was a worthy representative of his race. After a moment's pause the words, "I am ready," came from the lips of Red Bird. Advancing a step or two he paused, saying, "I do not wish to be put in irons. Let me be free. I have given away my life—it is gone"—stooping and taking some dust between his fingers and thumb, and blowing it away—"like that. I would not take it back. It is gone." Throwing his hands behind him to indicate that he was leaving all things behind, he marched briskly up to Major Whistler, breast to breast. A platoon wheeled backward from the center of the line of soldiery. Whistler stepped aside. Red Bird and WeKau marched through the line and were conducted by a file of men to a tent prepared for them in the rear, and the ceremony was concluded.
The fate of Red Bird may quickly be told. Together with seven others of his tribe who had surrendered themselves to the whites he was taken to Prairie du Chien and imprisoned to await trial on the charge of murder.[794] Their imprisonment was regarded by the Indians as a punishment worse than death itself. Red Bird bore his confinement hardly and at length sickened and died. WeKau and another of his associates were finally brought to trial, in September, 1828. They were found guilty and sentenced to be hung on December 26, but before the time set for the execution arrived both were pardoned by President Adams. The other prisoners were discharged for lack of evidence to convict them.
[794] Wisconsin Historical Collections, XI, 366-68; VIII, 264-65; Smith, History of Wisconsin, 1, 250-51.