Fifty Years In The Northwest / With An Introduction And Appendix Containing Reminiscences, Incidents And Notes

by William H. C. Folsom

The missionaries seeing from their windows quantities of bloody flesh upon stumps in the battle field, thought surely that several of their friends had fallen. It proved to be a cow and calf of an Ojibway. The mission children were much frightened and asked many questions, and for apparent safety went up stairs and were put behind some well filled barrels. In the heat of battle two Ojibways came from the island and landed in front of Mr. Ayer's house. They drew their canoe ashore and secreted themselves as well as the surroundings would permit. Not long after three Sioux ran down the hill and toward the canoe. They were fired upon and one fell dead. The other two ran for help but before they could return the Ojibways were on the way back to the island. Not having time to take the scalp of their enemy, they hastily cut the powder horn strap from his breast, dripping with blood, as a trophy of victory. The Sioux drew the dead body up the hill and back to the place of fighting. The noise ceased. The battle was over. The missionaries soon heard the joyful words, quietly spoken: "We still live." Not a warrior had fallen. The two school girls who were in the canoe at the first firing in the morning were the only ones killed, though half the men and boys in the fight were wounded. The Sioux women and boys who had come with their warriors to carry away the spoils had the chagrin of returning as empty as they came.

The Ojibways were careful that no canoe should be left within reach of the Sioux. From necessity they took a canoe, made by Mr. Ely, and removed their dead two miles up the river, dressed them (seemingly) in the best the party could furnish, with each a double barreled gun, a tomahawk and scalping knife, set them up against some large trees and went on their way. Some of these articles, including their head-dresses, were sent to the museum of the American board, in Boston.

In the closing scene the missionaries had the opportunity of seeing the difference between those Indians who had listened to instruction and those who had not. The second day after the battle the pagan party brought back to the island the dead bodies of their enemies, cut in pieces, and distributed parts to such Ojibways as had at any time lost friends by the hands of the Sioux. One woman, whose daughter was killed and mutilated on that memorable morning, when she saw the canoes coming, with a head raised high in the air on a long pole, waded out into the water, grabbed it like a hungry dog and dashed it repeatedly on the stones with savage fierceness. Others of the pagans conducted themselves in a similar manner. They even cooked some of the flesh that night in their kettles of rice. Eunice (as she was named at her baptism) was offered an arm. At first she hesitated; but for reasons, sufficient in her own mind, thought best to take it. Her daughter-in-law, widow of her son who had recently been killed and chopped into pieces by the Sioux, took another, and they went into their lodge. Eunice said: "My daughter, we must not do as some of our friends are doing. We have been taught better," and taking some white cloths from her sack they wrapped the arms in them, offered a prayer, and gave them a decent burial. About this time a Mr. Kirkland was sent from Quincy, Illinois, by a party who wished to plant a colony not far from the mission station. He arrived at Pokegama very soon after the battle. Notwithstanding what had happened he selected a location on Cross lake, just where a railroad has now been in operation for some years. He worked vigorously for two or three weeks, and then went to consult the Indian agent and the military at Fort Snelling. They gave him no encouragement that the two tribes would ever live in peace; and he went home. The Ojibways lived in constant fear, and the place was soon deserted. This was a great trial to the missionaries; but they did not urge them to stay. They separated into small parties and went where they could get a living for the present and be out of danger. The teachers remained at their post, occasionally visiting the Indians in their retreat, hoping they might soon think it safe to return to their homes. In this they were disappointed. These visits were not always very safe. On one of these trips Mr. Ayer was lost, and from cold and hunger came near perishing. Not finding the party he sought, he wandered about for a day or two. In the meantime the weather became much colder. Not expecting to camp out he took only one blanket and food enough for one meal. In crossing Kettle river on a self-made conveyance, and there being ice on the opposite shore, he got wet. The Indians, anticipating his visit, had sent a young man to the mission station to guide him to, their new locality. He returned in haste, fell on Mr. Ayer's track, and a light sprinkle of snow enabled him to follow it until he was found.

Mrs. Ayer relates several incidents illustrative of Indian character. As her husband had been stationed at Yellow Lake, and afterward at Red Lake, these incidents are not necessarily located at Pokegama:

A NOBLE CHIEF.

The Red Lake Indians were a noble band—they had a noble chief. In civilization he led the way, in religion he did not oppose. He shouldered a heavy axe, and could be seen chopping on one side of a large tree, in perspiration, while his wife was on the other side, helping all she could with her hatchet. This chief was also an advocate of temperance. Not that he didn't love whisky, but he hated the effect of it on his band. He dictated a letter to the president, begging him not to let the white faces bring any more firewater to his people, giving as one reason that they had teachers among them who must be protected, and if they had whisky he did not know what might happen.

FRANK CONFESSIONS.

In the church there was much childish simplicity. Once when Mr. Ayer was lecturing on the eighth commandment, he paused, and without expecting an answer, said: "Now who is there among you who has not stolen?" One woman began to confess—another followed, then another. One thought she had stolen about seven times. Another entered more into particulars, mentioning the things she had stolen, till the scene was quite amusing. Another rose to confess, but was cut short by her husband, who said: "Who knows how many times he has stolen? We are a nation of thieves." And with a few remarks the meeting closed.

A COWARDLY DEED.

After a medicine dance, according to Indian custom, they proposed a feast, but there was nothing on which to feast. There was a large company and all were hungry. Mr. Ayer's cow was in the barnyard near. Three daring fellows sitting by themselves began to taunt each other in regard to their comparative prowess. After an excitement was created, one of them, to show his bravery, shot the cow. Mr. Ayer was in his garden and witnessed the performance. Two or three of the leading men in this pagan party came immediately to Mr. Ayer to learn whether he would take the cow for his own use. While they were talking (perhaps twenty minutes) the cow was cut in pieces, and in the Indians' kettles preparatory to a good time. After the Indians had sold their land they paid for the cow.