If, in spite of all his efforts, death supervened, all of the people in that house and in the neighboring settlements began shouting and making loud noises so that the soul of the deceased would not stay about the dwelling but start upon its journey to the country of spirits. They removed the body to the house in town, wrapped in dressed deerskins and, after wailing over it, buried it in an oblong trench about four feet deep, excavated beneath the floor, lined with cypress bark, and covered with sticks upon which a thick layer of mud was plastered. The face of the deceased was painted red, he was seated facing the east, his most important implements, such as his bow and arrows, his war club, his paints, his pipe and tobacco pouch, were buried with him, and for four days the women of his family bewailed his death with loud howlings. The faces of all the mourners were painted black. The hair of a widow was unbound for four years, she discarded all ornaments, and was compelled to absent herself from all merry-makings. At the fourth poskita she was formally released by her husband’s sister and either provided with a new husband from the same clan,—or clan connection,—or set free to marry whomever she chose. For a widower the period of mourning was only four months.
The medical practices of his uncle possessed a fascination for Tokulki who was present whenever he was tolerated. He had seen similar performances in the square-ground at the time of the annual ceremonies, and his mind, which had a mystical bent, eagerly fed upon them.
At intervals during all this time Tokulki had seen bands of warriors, including sometimes his father and uncles, march out against their enemies, and in particular there was an enemy to the westward, not large in numbers but led by a chief of rare size, strength, and sagacity, whose activities were constantly more threatening, and who was aided and abetted by a much more numerous people beyond him called Long Hairs. At last, raids from this quarter became so numerous and so many injuries were suffered that a great council was held in Tulsa and it was determined to draw their settlements closer together and erect a strong stockade about them. Tokulki, although still too young for the heavier work, was called upon to render such assistance as he could in the completion of the structure. While the older men marked out the course of the wall and planted in the ground good-sized tree trunks a few feet apart, Tokulki and the other young men brought together numbers of long, flexible branches or young trees which they wove from one post to another, covering the whole with a plastering of mud. About a hundred feet apart little watchtowers were raised above the top of the wall, projecting forward slightly in order to defend the intervening spaces against attempts of an enemy to scale or burn them. On the river side there was but one row of palisades, but elsewhere it was doubled. Toward the river, too, was the only opening, made by allowing the walls slightly to overlap. To approach this an enemy must creep along a narrow path between wall and water, exposed to certain death should he be discovered.
About two years after this fort was completed, Tokulki went upon his first war expedition. The “uncle” of his group was to be one of the party, and took this occasion to initiate his nephew into the cardinal tribal institution, man-killing, the one great avenue for the attainment of personal glory and social standing. The leader of the party was to be none other than the tastanagi lako, the head warrior of the town, and therefore when he sent out to drum up volunteers there was a great outpouring of the ambitious youth of the nation. For four days they remained shut up in the tshokofa, fasting, taking war medicine, dancing, and singing war songs to lash themselves up to the proper degree of martial fury. Each was provided with a war club, a bow, and a quiver of arrows, a shield of cane or bison-hide, and a sack containing fire sticks, paints, and a slender ration of parched corn meal. The ceremonies completed, they set out quietly in single file very early in the morning. With them they carried a sacred box made of splints which was usually borne on the back of the chief’s assistant, and at every camp was placed upon a log, or hung upon a tree or post. Among other things it contained some of the painted bones of an enormous panther which the ancestors of this people had slain on their way from the far western country, and a part of one of the horns of an aquatic horned serpent. On occasion it was believed that this box gave forth oracular utterances, informing the party in what direction to proceed, or warning them of an attack.
On this occasion the spirit guardian appears to have been favorable, for they surprised four outlying camps of their enemies, took a dozen scalps, and carried off fifteen women and children as captives besides two grown men whom they subjected to the death penalty by fire. During this action Tokulki had the good fortune to save the life of the war chief’s servant by engaging an enemy, about to strike him from behind. Therefore, after the triumphant return, he received the much coveted feather headdress, his first war name, and a seat in the eastern cabin of the square.
He had stepped upon the first rung of the social ladder and could attend all but the most secret and important meetings to decide the actions of the nation. It was not long before he received another name and left the cabin of the tasikaias for that of the imalas at the east end of the north cabin. Later deeds entitled him to the rank of tastanagi, the highest war grade, but being by birth a member of the white Wind clan he was assigned instead to a seat of honor in the peace cabin on the other side.
In spite of his prowess, however, Tokulki took less pleasure in warfare than most of his companions. He had, as we have noted, a mystical type of mind. The great ceremonies had a powerful influence over him, and the practices of his uncle, the Medicine Maker, proved a constant fascination. Blessed with a retentive memory, he rapidly picked up a fund of tribal lore which presently attracted the attention of the old men,—the custodians of the sacred legends and the keepers of the rituals. They talked earnestly about him with the Medicine Maker, as of one to whom his people might look for spiritual leadership in future days, and at his uncle’s suggestion he and three other of the most promising youths of the Wind connection agreed to undertake the young men’s poskita, “the first degree in medicine” if we may so term it.
Calling these youths into his house the Medicine Maker talked to them earnestly and then made an appointment to meet them at a remote spot in the forest, on the bank of a small stream away from the frequented trails. At the time and place agreed upon, he presented himself before them and directed them to make a sweat lodge by the bank of the rivulet. Then he began his instructions, going over as much of his more elementary knowledge as he thought they could grasp at one time, and, when he returned to his house, telling them to memorize all he had said carefully, until the fourth day, after when he would visit them once more. He repeated his visits and instructions at similar intervals for the better part of a month when he was satisfied with their progress and told them to go back to their homes. “Now,” he said, “you understand how to heal wounds made by arrows and are entitled to wear buzzard feathers in your hair.”
This degree was taken by Tokulki shortly after his first war expedition, but for some time other events interposed to prevent the continuation of his initiation. In the first place his family had decided that it was time for him to take a wife and assume a position in the tribe as the responsible head of a household of his own. He fell in with this arrangement as part of the natural order of things, and consequently his mother, accompanied by two or three of her clanswomen, visited the “uncle” of the Raccoon clan to which the chosen girl belonged. The recipient of the visit was not unaware of the offer about to be made and had called to his house some of the other leading men of his clan, the mother of the girl, and, as a matter of courtesy, her father. A few days thereafter the Raccoon people returned the visit and formally announced that the suit was accepted. The wedding might have been consummated then and there, by conducting the groom to his betrothed’s house and holding a feast and dance, but Tokulki and his parents were ambitious to have him reach a high position in the tribe as soon as possible, and accordingly they delayed the ceremony until he could erect a house, garner a crop of corn, and lay by a supply of venison.
Word was sent to all of the male members of the Wind clan residing in that town to go into the forest and bring together a supply of poles, bark, bark rope, and other articles sufficient for the proposed house. The planting season was beginning, and when the town field was laid out, an extra plot was sowed for the new household. When this was ready to harvest, a corncrib raised on posts was put up near the site of the projected dwelling, and filled from Tokulki’s new plot. The harvest being over, and the days cool enough for comfortable work out-of-doors, the men of the Wind clan came together again and appointed a day upon which the new house was to be raised. This work was carried out much like an old New England husking bee. It was placed under the direction of the one considered most skilled in such matters who assigned the various processes to all the rest. They worked with such a good will that it was practically complete by the middle of the afternoon. Afterward a common meal was served followed by a game of ball and the usual dance after dark. Sofkee, prepared like our “hulled corn,” stood ready in pots at the service of any of those present.