by John Tanner
Col. Dickson, who was now at Red River, sent a man for the Sioux, as it was thought desirable that they should be called in and made acquainted with the state of affairs. In the preceding winter, after I had returned to Pembinah, two Ojibbeway women had arrived there, with pipes from the Sioux country, to invite the Ojibbeways to make peace. These women had been prisoners among the Sioux, and their release, as well as the message they bore, was considered as indicative of a disposition on the part of the Sioux to bring about a peace with the Ojibbeways.
One of these women had been married to a Sioux, and her husband had become attached to her. When the common voice of his people made it necessary she should be sent back to her own country, he sent a message to her husband among the Ojibbeways, offering to give him, in exchange for her, whichever of his own wives the Ojibbeway might choose to take. But this man was not disposed to accept the offer of the Sioux, and there was no one to return to answer the messages the women had brought until Mr. Bruce, the interpreter before mentioned, offered his services. These negotiations, though they had produced little apparent effect, had prepared the minds of the Sioux, in some measure, for the message from Mr. Dickson, and they sent, according to his request, twenty-two men, and two Ojibbeway prisoners, that were to be given up. One of these prisoners was a young woman, the daughter of Gitche-ope-zhe-ke, (the big buffalo,) and she also had been married among the Sioux. Her husband, who was one of the twenty two who now arrived, was a young man, and was extremely fond of his Ojibbeway wife. The chiefs of the party, when they were about to return, tried to persuade him to leave her, but this he obstinately refused to do, and they were at last compelled to abandon him, though it was evidently at the imminent peril of his life that he ventured to remain by himself among the Ojibbeways. After his companions had left him, he went out, and wandered about, crying like a child. Seeing his distress, I called him into my lodge, and though, on account of difference of language, I could not say much to him, I endeavoured to console him, and make him believe that he would find some friends even among the Ojibbeways. On the following day, he determined to follow his companions, and to return to his own country. He started out, and followed along their path two or three hundred yards, then he threw himself down upon the ground, cried and rolled about like a mad man, but his affection for his wife getting the better of his wish to return, and his fears for his own life, he came back and would have remained among us. But about this time we heard of other Ojibbeways who had threatened to come and kill him, and we well knew that it would be scarce possible for him to remain long among us without attempts being made against his life. Wa-ge-tote and Be-gwais, our chiefs, interfered to send him away, and having selected eight trusty men, of whom I was one, directed that he should be taken one day’s journey towards the Sioux country. We were compelled to drag him away by violence, nor could we urge him forward in any other manner, until we arrived at the crossing place of the Assinneboin River, where we met a party of two hundred Assinneboins. The young Sioux had taken the precaution to dress himself like an Ojibbeway, and when the chief of the Assinneboins asked us where we were going, we told him our chiefs had sent us to hunt buffalo. This man, Ne-zho-ta-we-nau-ba, was a good and discreet chief, and although the terror of the young Sioux immediately made him acquainted with the deception we tried to practice upon him, he appeared to take no notice of it. He even placed himself in such a situation as to divert the attention of his own people from the young man until the band had passed. He then addressed the Sioux in his own language: “Fly, young man,” said he, “and remember if you are overtaken before you reach your own country, there are few among the Assinneboins, or Ojibbeways, who would not gladly take your life.” The young man started to run accordingly. At the distance of one hundred yards we heard him burst out crying, but afterwards we understood that he overtook his party at Pembinah, and returned in safety to his own country.
Much was said of this peace between the Sioux and Ojibbeways, and Col. Dickson often boasted that the Sioux would not be the first to violate the treaty, as he said they would venture to do nothing without his consent. He was even boasting in this way when a chief of the Ojibbeways with forty men arrived, having in their hands the still bloody arrows they had taken from the bodies of those the Sioux had recently killed at a trading-house belonging to Mr. Dickson himself. This, for some time, checked his boasting. Lord Selkirk, also, about the same time, called all the Indians together, and presenting them a quantity of tobacco, spirits, etc. etc. made one of those long and fatherly speeches so common in Indian councils. “My children,” said he, “the sky which has long been dark and cloudy over your heads, is now once more clear and bright. Your great father beyond the waters, who has ever, as you know, nearest his heart the interests of his red children, has sent me to remove the briars out of your path that your feet may no more bleed. We have taken care to remove from you those evil minded white men who sought, for the sake of their own profit, to make you forget your duty to your great father; they will no more return to trouble you. We have also called to us the Sioux, who, though their skins are red, like your own, have long been your enemies. They are henceforth to remain in their own country. This peace now places you in safety. Long before your fathers were born, this war began, and instead of quietly pursuing the game for the support of your women and children, you have been murdering one another. That time has passed away, and you can now hunt where you please. Your young men must observe this peace, and your great father will consider as his enemy any one who takes up the tomahawk.”
The Indians answered with the usual promises and professions, and being about to leave the fort that evening, they stole every horse belonging to Lord Selkirk and his party. In the morning, not a single horse was left, and the Indians who had most of them disappeared also.
It was now so late that I could not come that fall to the states. Lord Selkirk having, perhaps, heard something of my history, began to be attentive to me. He inquired about the events of my past life, and I related many things to him, particularly the part I had borne in capturing the fort. Judge Codman, also, who remained there, often spoke to Lord Selkirk respecting me. “This man,” said he, “conducted your party from the Lake of the Woods hither in the winter season, and performed a very important part in the taking of this fort, at the expense of great labour, and at the hazard of his life, and all for the sum of forty dollars. The least you ought to do is to make his forty dollars eighty, and give him an annuity of twenty dollars per year for life.” Lord Selkirk did accordingly. The annuity for the five first years has been paid me. The second five have not yet expired.
Lord Selkirk was not able to leave the mouth of the Assinneboin so early as he had intended for fear of the North West. They had sent men, disguised as Indians, among whom was one they called Sacksayre. They had also sent Indians, with instructions to waylay and murder him. Hearing of this, he thought it best to despatch Col. Dickson to the Sioux country for a guard of one hundred Sioux, and it was not until these arrived that he dared venture out. Then he escaped from the fort at night, and joined Dickson at Pembinah.
He took with him a letter which he had himself written for me, and in my name, to my friends in the states, giving some of the most prominent of the particulars of my early history. He had used much persuasion to induce me to accompany him, and I had inclination enough to do so, but I then believed that most of my near relatives had been murdered by the Indians, and if any remained I knew that so great a lapse of time must have made us, in all respects, like strangers to each other. He also proposed to take me to England with him, but my attachments were among the Indians, and my home was in the Indian country. I had spent great part of my life there, and I knew it was too late for me to form new associations. He however sent six men to take me to the Lake of the Woods, where I arrived late in the fall after the corn was gathered. In the beginning of winter, I went to the Be-gwi-o-nus-ko Lake, thence, when the snow had fallen, to the prairie to hunt buffalo.
The Indians gathered around, one after another, until we became a considerable band, and then we began to suffer of hunger. The weather was very severe, and our suffering increased. A young woman was the first to die of hunger. Soon after this, a young man, her brother, was taken with that kind of delirium, or madness, which precedes death in such as die of starvation. In this condition, he had left the lodge of his debilitated and desponding parents, and when, at a late hour in the evening I returned from my hunt, they could not tell what had become of him. I left the camp about the middle of the night and following his track, I found him at some distance lying dead in the snow.
CHAPTER XIII
Suffering of the Ojibbeways from hunger. – Persecutions of Waw-be-be-nai-sa, and unkindness of my Indian relatives. – Journey to Detroit. – Governor Cass. – Council at St. Mary, on the Miami.
All the men who were still able to walk now determined to start after buffalo, which we knew could not then be very near us. For my own part, I chose to remain, as did one good hunter besides, who knew that the prospect of getting buffaloes was not good. We remained behind, and in a short time killed five moose, all the flesh of which being immediately distributed among the suffering women and children, afforded some relief, and checked the progress of death which was making extensive havoc among us. The men returned one after another, more worn out and reduced than when they had left us. Only a single buffalo had been killed. As the most incessant, and the most laborious exertions alone could save us from perishing, I went immediately out to hunt again, and having started a bear, I pursued him for three days without being able to come up with him. At the end of this time I found myself so exhausted, that I knew I could never overtake the bear, and I should not have reached home, had not some Indians, little less miserable and hungry than myself, happened to meet with me. I had stopped at night, and being unable to make a camp, or kindle a fire, I was endeavouring to reconcile myself to the immediate approach of death which I thought inevitable, when these people unexpectedly found me, and helped me to return to camp. This is but a fair specimen of the life which many of the Ojibbeways of the north lead during the winter. Their barren and inhospitable country affords them so scantily the means of subsistence, that it is only with the utmost exertion and activity that life can be sustained, and it not unfrequently happens that the strongest men, and the best hunters, perish of absolute hunger.
Now the Indians again determined to move all together, towards the buffaloes, and endeavour to reach them with their families. Only Oon-di-no, the man who had remained with me before, wished to stay, that his women might dry the skin of the last moose he had killed, so that they might carry it with them to be eaten in case of the failure of all other supplies. I concluded to remain with him, but in the middle of the first night after the Indians left, the distress of my children became so great that I could no longer remain in my lodge. I got up and started, and told him that if I could kill or procure any game, I would return to his relief. I pursued, rapidly as my strength would permit, the path of the Indians, and about morning came up with their camp. I had no sooner arrived then I heard the sounds of a feast and going up to the lodge, I heard the voice of an old man, thanking the Great Spirit for the supply that had been bestowed in the time of their necessity. He did not mention the animal by name that had been killed, only calling it Manitowais-se, which means nearly “Spirit beast.” From this I could not ascertain what had been killed, but from another source, I learned it was an old and poor buffalo. From this I inferred that herds must be near, and two young men being willing to join me, we went immediately in the direction in which we believed the herd would be found, and after having walked about three hours, ascended a little hill, and saw before us the ground black with buffaloes. We crawled up, and I killed immediately two fat cows. As I was cutting these up, I began to hear the guns of the men of our party, they having followed me on, and being now arrived among the buffaloes. It was somewhat late when I was ready to go to our camp, most of the men were in before me. I had expected to have heard the sounds of feasting and rejoicing, but when I entered the camp, not a voice was to be heard. No women and children were running about, all was silent and sad. Can it be, thought I, that this relief has come too late, and that our women and children are all dead. I looked into one lodge after another. In all, the people were alive, but none had any thing to eat. The men having most of them come from a forest country, and having never hunted buffalo before, all failed to kill except myself. The supply I had brought, I having loaded the two young men that were with me, somewhat allayed the hunger that was prevailing.
There was at this time with us a man called Waw-bebe-nai-sa, (White Bird,) with whom I had formerly been somewhat acquainted, and whose jealousy and ill will against me, seemed to be excited and irritated by my success in hunting. It was on account of this man, and because I wished to avoid all ostentation, that I now forbore to make a feast in my own lodge, as would have been proper for me to have done on this occasion. Nevertheless, one of the young men who had been with me made a feast, and I, after reserving sufficient food to allay the pressing hunger of my own children, sent the remainder to the families about me. The young man who made the feast, called, among others, Waw-bebe-nais-sa, the man I have mentioned. In the course of the evening, he said, as I understood, much to prejudice me in the opinion of the Indians, accusing me of pride, insolence, and of having in various ways done mischief among them. But I remained in my own lodge, and at present took no notice of this, farther than to contradict his unfair statements.
Next morning, long before the dawn, the women started for the remains of the two buffalo I had killed, and several of the men, most of them having obtained from me some instruction about the part to be aimed at, again went in pursuit of the herds, and this day several of them killed. We soon had plenty of meat, and all that were sick and near death recovered, except one woman, who having gone mad with hunger, remained in a state of derangement for more than a month.
The principal man of this band was called O-poih-gun[*], (the pipe.) He, with three lodges, remained with me, the others scattered here and there in pursuit of the buffalo. One of the men who remained back with me, was Waw-bebe-nais-sa, and another his son-in-law. I killed great numbers of fat buffalo, and the choice parts of forty of them I had dried. We had suffered so much from hunger that I wished to secure my family against a return of it. I also still had it in contemplation to make my way to the States when I knew it would be necessary for me to leave them for some time without any one to hunt for them. I made twenty large sacks of pemmican. Ten kegs of ten gallons each, which I procured from the Indians, I filled with tallow, and preserved, besides, a considerable number of tongues, etc.
It was not immediately that I discovered Waw-bebe-nais-sa’s design in remaining near my camp, which was solely to annoy and molest me. I had such large quantities of meat to carry when we came finally to move, that I was compelled to return with my dogs four times, to carry forward to my camping place, one load after another. One day he contrived to meet me alone at the place where I deposited my loads, and I had no sooner stopped, than he thrust both his hands into my long hair, which then hung down on both sides of my head. “This,” said he, “is the head of your road, look down and see the place where the wolves and the carrion birds shall pick your bones.” I asked him why he offered me this violence. “You are a stranger,” said he, “and have no right among us, but you set yourself up for the best hunter, and would make us treat you as a great man. For my own part, I have long been weary of your insolence, and I am determined you shall not live another day.” Finding that remonstrance was likely to have no effect upon him, but that he was proceeding to beat my head against a poplar tree that stood there, by a sudden exertion of strength, I threw him upon the ground, and disengaged my head at the expense of part of my hair. But in the struggle, he caught three of the fingers of my right hand between his teeth. Having sunk his strong teeth quite to the bones of my fingers, I could not draw t
hem out of his mouth, but with my left hand aimed a blow at one of his eyes. His jaws flew open, and he leapt instantly to his feet. My tomahawk was lying near me, and his eye happening to fall upon it, he caught it in his hand, and aimed so hearty a blow at my head, that as I eluded it, his own violence brought him to the ground. I jumped upon him, wrenched the tomahawk from his hand, and threw it as far as I could, while I continued to hold him fast to the ground. I was much enraged at his unprovoked and violent attack upon me; nevertheless I would not kill him, but seeing there a piece of a stout lodge pole, I caught it in my hands, and told him to get up. When he did so, I commenced beating him, and as he fled immediately, I followed, and continued to beat him while he ran two or three hundred yards.
When I returned to my load, his son-in-law and two other young men belonging to him, having heard his cries, had come up. One of them said angrily to me, “What is this you have done?” and immediately the three rushed upon me, and I being already overcome with fatigue, they threw me upon the ground. At this time Waw-bebe-nais-sa had returned, and he caught me by a black silk handkerchief that I wore about my neck, strangled, kicked, and beat me, and thrust me down in the snow. I remember hearing one of them say, “he is dead,” and as I knew I could not hope while I was down, to make resistance against four, I endeavoured to encourage this opinion. When they took their hands off me, and stood at a little distance, I sprang upon my feet, and seized a lodge pole, probably very contrary to their expectations. Whether through surprise or fear I know not, they all fled, and seeing this, I pursued Waw-bebe-nais-sa, and gave him another severe beating with my pole. For this time they left me, and I returned once more to hang up the meat I had brought. But Waw-bebe-nais-sa and his people returned to the lodges, where my dogs, which my wife had taken back, were lying, much fatigued, before the door. He drew his knife, and stabbed one of them. My wife hearing the noise, ran out, but he threatened to kill her also.
