BUTTE DES MORTS—LAKE PUCKAWAY
The Butte des Morts, or Hillock of the Dead, was the scene long since[K] of a most sanguinary battle between the French and the Mis-qua-kees, or Foxes. So great was the carnage in this engagement, that the memory of it has been perpetuated by the gloomy appellation given to the mound where the dead were buried. The Foxes up to this time had inhabited the shores of the river to which they had given their name, but being completely overwhelmed and beaten in this conflict, they retired to the neighborhood of the Mississippi, and sought an asylum among their allies, the Saukies, or as they are now called, the Sauks, with whom they became gradually incorporated, until the combined tribes came to be known, as at present, by the name of "Sauks and Foxes."[[38]]
[K] In the year 1714.
Among the French inhabitants of the upper country, each tribe of Indians has a particular appellation, descriptive of some peculiarity of either their habits or their personal appearance. Thus the Chippewas from their agility are denominated “Sauteurs” or Jumpers; the Ottawas, the “Courtes-oreilles” or Short-ears. The Menomonees, from the wild rice so abundant in their country, are called the “Folles Avoines”—the Winnebagoes, from their custom of wearing the fur of a pole-cat on their legs when equipped for war, are termed "les Puans"'[[39]]—the Pottowattamies, from their uncleanly habits, “les Poux”—the Foxes, are “les Renards,” &c., &c.
Hence you will never hear a French or half-breed resident of the country mention an Indian in any other style. “Such a person is a ‘Court-oreille.’” “Is that woman a ‘Winnebago?’” “No, she is a ‘Folle Avoine.’” In this manner a stranger is somewhat puzzled at first to classify the acquaintances he forms.
All the native friends with whom we were here surrounded were “les Puans,” or to use their own euphonious application, the “Ho-tshung-rahs.”
Having with great regret said adieu to our friend Judge Doty, whose society had contributed so much to the pleasure of our trip, and whose example, moreover, had given us a valuable lesson to take things as we find them, we bade good-bye at an early hour after breakfast to our kind hosts, and set forward on our journey.
From Butte des Morts to the Portage, the distance by land is about seventy miles; by water, it is not less than a hundred and thirty, so serpentine is the course of the river through the low swampy prairies which stretch over a great portion of this part of the country.
About six miles above the Butte, a tolerably broad stream called Wolf River joins the Fox, and as it is much the more direct and promising of the two, strangers have sometimes mistaken it for the main stream, and journeyed up it a considerable distance before discovering to their great chagrin that they must retrace their steps.