Upon her innocent and devoted head they concentrate the full measure of their vengeance, of all the cruelties, of all the crimes, of all the injustice and cruelty of the Sioux, which may have taken place in their most cruel and protracted {376} wars, and which from time immemorial had been transmitted from father to son, as a precious heritage of vengeance and resentment. In a manner the most furious and most triumphant they exult with leaping and howling, like wild beasts, around their trembling victim. They then despoil her of all her ornaments and of her dress, when the chief of the sacrifice approaches and paints one-half of her body black and the other half red, the colours of their victims. He then scorches her armpits and sides with a pine-knot torch. After these preparatory rites, he gives the signal to the whole tribe, who make the air resound with the terrible war-cry of the Sassaskwi. At this piercing cry, which freezes the heart with terror, which paralyzes the timid and rouses the ardor of the brave, which confounds the buffalo in his course, and fills the bear with such fear as to take from him all the power of resisting or fleeing from his enemies, the savages, impatient and greedy for blood, issue from their dark lodges. Like a terrific hurricane they rush headlong to the fatal spot. Their cries, mingled with the noise of their feet, resemble the roar of thunder, increasing as the storm approaches. As a swarm of bees surround their queen, these Pawnee savages {377} encompass the Sioux child—their trembling victim. In the twinkling of an eye, their bows are bent and their arrows adjusted to the cords. The arrow of Lecharitetewarouchte, or chief of the sacrifice, is the only one which is barbed with iron. With this, it is his province to pierce the heart of the innocent Dakotha. A profound silence reigns for an instant among the ferocious band. No sound breaks the awful stillness save the sobs and piteous moans of the victim, who hangs trembling in the air, while the chief of the sacrifice makes a last offering of her to the Master of the universe. At that moment he transfixes her through the heart—upon the instant a thousand murderous arrows quiver in the body of the poor child. Her whole body is one shapeless mass, riddled with arrows as numerous as are the quills upon the back of the porcupine.
While the howling and the dancing continue, the great chief of the nation, mounting the three posts in triumph, plucks the arrows from the dead body and casts them into the fire. The iron-barbed arrow being the only one preserved for future sacrifices. He then squeezes the blood from the mangled flesh, upon the maize and other seeds, which stand around in baskets ready {378} to be planted; and then, as the last act of this cruel and bloody sacrifice, he plucks the still palpitating heart from the body, and, heaping the fiercest imprecations upon the enemies of his race, devours it amidst the shouts and screams of his people. The rite is finished. The haughty and satisfied savages move away from the scene of their awful tragedy; they pass the remainder of the day in feasts and merriment. The murdered and deformed body hangs where it was immolated, a prey to wolves and carnivorous birds. I will end this painful tragedy, by giving you an extract of a former letter.
“Such horrid cruelties could not but bring down the wrath of Heaven upon their nation. As soon as the report of the sacrifice reached the Sioux, they burned with the desire to avenge their honor, and bound themselves by oaths that they would not rest until they had killed as many Pawnees as their innocent victim had bones or joints in her body. More than a hundred Pawnees have at length fallen under their tomahawks, and their oaths have since been still more amply fulfilled in the massacre of their wives and children.
“In view of so much cruelty, who could mistake the agency of the arch enemy of mankind, {379} and who could refuse to exert himself to bring these benighted nations to the knowledge of the One only true Mediator between God and man, and of the only true sacrifice without which it is impossible to appease the Divine justice?”
With sentiments of respect and esteem,
I remain, my dear sir, yours, &c.
Peter J. De Smet, S. J.
No. XXVII
A. M. D. G.
Extract from the Missionary’s Journal
To-day, 17th August, we pitched our tents upon the borders of a winding stream, in the heart of a wild, mountainous country, whose deep ravines and gloomy caverns are well suited for the dens of wild animals. Great as our expectations were of finding here abundance of game, they were not deceived. In less than an hour our hunters killed as many as twelve bears. During the night, an event of a far more serious nature occurred. The sudden firing of a gun roused us from slumber. Every warrior was on the alert; that shot could have proceeded from no hand save that of a “Black-Foot!” We looked at one another in silent anticipation. Who, then, had been the sufferer? The painful question was quickly answered. It was the {381} poor widow Camilla, one of the Sinpoil tribe.[354] The ball had passed through her throat, and she expired without a groan! Happily, her soul was ripe for Heaven. From the period of her first communion, she had never passed a Sunday without approaching the holy table, nor was her baptismal robe sullied by the slightest stain. The funeral obsequies were performed on the banks of Yellow-Rock River,[355] because that spot was better suited than any other to conceal her sepulchre from the avaricious Black-Foot assassin. All things work together for good to them that love God; this death, terrible, indeed, in the sight of men, but precious in the eyes of the Lord, became the source of a good work. The murdered woman left two daughters, both very young; had her life been spared, she would not, perhaps, have been able to shield their innocence from the dangers to which it would have been exposed; but, now, they were immediately adopted by Ambrose, chief of the Flat-Heads, and father of a numerous family; in his noble heart, charity, piety, and confidence in God, go hand-in-hand with his courage.
At the distance of a few gun-shots from Yellow-Rock, the buffaloes made their appearance. {382} One of them plunged into the river to avoid the death which threatened him, swam rapidly down the current, then suddenly tacked about to escape his pursuers; and, finally, exhausted by his efforts, unable longer to contend with his fate, came out of the river, and stretched himself upon the turf at the entrance of our camp, where his presence caused no other mischief than that of exciting the mirth of the women and children.