THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL - COLONEL HENRY INMAN (surface ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Half An Hour To Take Leave

Of Their Families, The Ankles Of Each Were Bound; They Were Made

To Kneel On The Prairie, A Squad Of Soldiers, With Loaded rifles,

Were Drawn Up Eight Paces In front Of Them, And At The Instant

The Signal--A White Handkerchief--Was Dropped the Savages Tumbled

Over On The Sod A Heap Of Corpses.  The Parting Between The Condemned

Men And Their Young Wives And Children, I Shall Never Forget.

It Was The Most Perfect Exhibition Of Marital And Filial Love That

I Have Ever Witnessed.  Such Harsh Measures May Seem Cruel And

Heartless In the Light Of To-Day, But There Was None Other Than

Martial Law Then In the Wilderness Of The Northern Pacific Coast,

And The Execution Was A Stern Necessity.

 

 

 

The Other Instance Was Ten Years Later.  During The Indian Campaign

In The Winter Of 1868-69 I Was Riding With A Party Of Officers And

Enlisted men, South Of The Arkansas, About Fourty Miles From Fort Dodge.

We Were Watching Some Cavalrymen Unearth Three Or Four Dead Warriors

Who Had Been Killed by Two Scouts In a Fierce Unequal Fight A Few

Weeks Before, And As We Rode Into A Small Ravine Among The Sand Hills,

We Suddenly Came Upon A Rudely Constructed cheyenne Lodge.  Entering,

We Discovered on A Rough Platform, Fashioned of Green Poles, A Dead

Warrior In full War-Dress; His Shield Of Buffalo-Hide, Pipe Ornamented

With Eagles' Feathers, And Medicine Bag, Were Lying On The Ground

Beside Him.  At His Head, On Her Knees, With Hands Clasped in the

Attitude Of Prayer, Was A Squaw Frozen To Death.  Which Had First

Succumbed, The Wounded chief, Or The Devoted wife In the Awful Cold

Of That Winter Prairie, Will Never Be Known, But It Proved her Love

For The Man Who Had Perhaps Beaten Her A Hundred times.  Such Tender

And Sympathetic Affection Is Characteristic Of The Sex Everywhere,

No Less With The Poor Savage Than In the Dominant White Race.

 

 

 

To Return To Our Description Of The Average Indian Village: Each Lodge

At The Grand Encampment Of Big Timbers In the Era Of Traffic With

The Nomads Of The Great Plains, Owned its Separate Herd Of Ponies

And Mules.  In the Exodus To Some Other Favoured spot, Two Dozen Or

More Of These Individual Herds Travelled close To Each Other But

Never Mixed, Each Drove Devotedly Following Its Bell-Mare, As In

A Pack-Train.  This Useful Animal Is Generally The Most Worthless

And Wicked beast In the Entire Outfit.

 

 

 

The Animals With The Lodge-Pole Carriages Go As They Please,

No Special Care Being Taken To Guide Them, But They Too Instinctively

Keep Within Sound Of The Leader.  I Will Again Quote Garrard For

An Accurate Description Of The Moving Camp When He Was With The

Cheyennes In 1847:--

 

 

 

          The Young Squaws Take Much Care Of Their Dress And Horse

          Equipments; They Dash Furiously Past On Wild Steeds,

          Astrideof The High-Pommelled saddles.  A Fancifully

          Coloured cover, Worked with Beads Or Porcupine Quills,

          Making a Flashy, Striking appearance, Extended from Withers

          To Rump Of The Horse, While The Riders Evinced an Admirable

          Daring, Worthy Of Amazons.  Their Dresses Were Made Of

          Buckskin, High At The Neck, With Short Sleeves, Or Rather

          None At All, Fitting Loosely, And Reaching Obliquely To

          Theknee, Giving a Diana Look To The Costume; The Edges

          Scalloped, Worked with Beads, And Fringed.  From The Knee

          Downward The Limb Was Encased in a Tightly Fitting Legging,

          Terminating In a Neat Moccasin--Both Handsomely Wrought

          With Beads.  On The Arms Were Bracelets Of Brass, Which

          Glittered and Reflected in the Radiant Morning Sun, Adding

          Much To Their Attractions. In their Pierced ears, Shells

          From The Pacific Shore Were Pendent; And To Complete The

          Picture Of Savage Taste And Profusion, Their Fine

          Complexions Were Eclipsed by A Coat Of Flaming Vermilion.

 

 

 

          Many Of The Largest Dogs Were Packed with A Small Quantity

          Of Meat, Or Something Not Easily Injured.  They Looked

          Queerly, Trotting Industriously Under Their Burdens; And,

          Judging From A Small Stock Of Canine Physiological

          Information, Not A Little Of The Wolf Was In their

          Composition.

 

 

 

          We Crossed the River On Our Way To The New Camp.  The Alarm

          Manifested by The Children In the Lodge-Pole Drays, As They

          Dipped in the Water, Was Amusing.  The Little Fellows,

          Holding Their Breath, Not Daring To Cry, Looked imploringly

          At Their Inexorable Mothers, And Were Encouraged by Words

          Of Approbation From Their Stern Fathers.

 

 

 

          After A Ride Of Two Hours We Stopped, And The Chiefs,

          Fastening Their Horses, Collected in circles To Smoke Their

          Pipe And Talk, Letting Their Squaws Unpack The Animals,

          Pitch The Lodges, Build The Fires, And Arrange The Robes.

          When All Was Ready, These Lords Of Creation Dispersed to

          Their Several Homes, To Wait Until Their Patient And

          Enduring Spouses Prepared some Food.  I Was Provoked, Nay,

          Angry, To See The Lazy, Overgrown Men Do Nothing To Help

          Their Wives; And When The Young Women Pulled off Their

          Bracelets And Finery To Chop Wood, The Cup Of My Wrath Was

          Full To Overflowing, And, In a Fit Of Honest Indignation,

          I Pronounced them Ungallant And Savage In the True Sense

          Of The Word.

 

 

 

The Treatment Of Indian Children, Particularly Boys, Is Something

Startling To The Gentle Sentiments Of Refined white Mothers.

The Girls Receive Hardly Any Attention From Their Fathers.  Implicit

Obedience Is The Watchword Of The Lodge With Them, And They Are

Constantly Taught To Appreciate Their Inferiority Of Sex.  The Daughter

Is A Mere Slave; Unnoticed and Neglected--A Mere Hewer Of Wood And

Drawer Of Water.  With A Son, It Is Entirely Different; The Father

From His Birth Dotes On Him And Manifests His Affection In the Most

Demonstrative Manner.

 

 

 

Garrard Tells Of Two Instances That Came Under His Observation While

Staying at The Chief'S Lodge, And At John Smith'S, In the Cheyenne

Village, Of The Discipline To Which The Boys Are Subjected.

 

 

 

          In vi-Po-Nah'S Lodge Was His Grandson, A Boy Six Or Seven

          Months Old.  Every Morning His Mother Washed him In cold

          Water, And Set Him Out In the Air To Make Him Hardy;

          He Would Come In, Perfectly Nude, From His Airing, About

          Half-Frozen.  How He Would Laugh And Brighten Up, As He Felt

          The Warmth Of The Fire!

 

 

 

          Smith'S Son Jack Took A Crying Fit One Cold Night, Much To

          The Annoyance Of Four Or Five Chiefs, Who Had Come To Our

          Lodge To Talk And Smoke.  In vain Did The Mother Shake And

          Scold Him With The Severest Cheyenne Words, Until Smith,

          Provoked beyond Endurance, Took The Squalling Youngster In

          His Hands; He Shu-ed and Shouted and Swore, But Jack Had

          Gone Too Far To Be Easily Pacified.  He Then Sent For A

          Bucket Of Water From The River And Poured cupful After

          Cupful On Jack, Who Stamped and Screamed and Bit In his

          Tiny Rage.  Notwithstanding, The Icy Stream Slowly Descended

          Until The Bucket Was Emptied, Another Was Sent For, And

          Again And Again The Cup Was Replenished and Emptied on The

          Blubbering Youth.  At Last, Exhausted with Exertion And

          Completely Cooled down, He Received the Remaining Water

          In silence, And, With A Few Words Of Admonition, Was

          Delivered over To His Mother, In whose Arms He Stifled his

          Sobs, Until His Heartbreaking Grief And Cares Were Drowned

          In sleep.  What A Devilish Mixture Indian And American

          Blood Is!

 

 

 

The Indians Never Chastise A Boy, As They Think His Spirit Would Be

Broken And Cowed down; Instead Of A Warrior He Would Be A Squaw

--A Harsh Epithet Indicative Of Cowardice--And They Resort To Any Method

But Infliction Of Blows To Subdue A Refractory Scion.

 

 

 

Before Most Of The Lodges Is A Tripod Of Three Sticks, About Seven

Feet In length And An Inch In diameter, Fastened at The Top, And The

Lower Ends Brought Out, So That It Stands Alone.  On This Is Hung

The Shield And A Small Square Bag Of Parfleche, Containing Pipes,

With An Accompanying Pendent Roll Of Stems, Carefully Wrapped in

Blue Or Red cloth, And Decorated with Beads And Porcupine Quills.

This Collection Is Held In great Veneration, For The Pipe Is Their

Only Religion.  Through Its Agency They Invoke The Great Spirit;

Through It They Render Homage To The Winds, To The Earth, And To

The Sky.

 

 

 

Every One Has His Peculiar Notion On This Subject; And, In passing

The Pipe, One Must Have It Presented stem Downward, Another The

Reverse; Some With The Bowl Resting On The Ground; And As This Is

A Matter Of Great Solemnity, Their Several Fancies Are Respected.

Sometimes I Required them To Hand It To Me, When Smoking, In imitation

Of Their Custom; On This, A Faint Smile, Half Mingled with Respect

And Pity For My Folly In tampering With Their Sacred ceremony, Would

Appear On Their Faces, And With A Slow Negative Shake Of The Head,

They Would Ejaculate, "I-Sto-Met-Mah-Son-Ne-Wah-Hein"--"Pshaw!

That'S Foolish; Don'T Do So."

 

 

 

Religion The Cheyennes Have None, If, Indeed, We Except The Respect

Paid To The Pipe; Nor Do We See Any Sign Or Vestige Of Spiritual

Worship; Except One Remarkable Thing--In Offering The Pipe, Before

Every Fresh Filling, To The Sky, The Earth, And The Winds, The Motion

Made In so Doing Describes The Form Of A Cross; And, In blowing The

First Four Whiffs, The Smoke Is Invariably Sent In the Same Four

Directions.  It Is Undoubtedly Void Of Meaning In reference To

Christian Worship, Yet It Is A Superstition, Founded on Ancient

Tradition.  This Tribe Once Lived near The Head Waters Of The

Mississippi; And, As The Early Jesuit Missionaries Were Energetic

Zealots, In the Diffusion Of Their Religious Sentiments, Probably To

Make Their Faith More Acceptable To The Indians, The Roman Catholic

Rites Were Blended with The Homage Shown To The Pipe, Which Custom

Of Offering, In the Form Of A Cross, Is Still Retained by Them;

But As Every Custom Is Handed down By Tradition Merely, The True

Source Has Been Forgotten.

 

 

 

In Every Tribe In whose Country I Have Been Stationed, Which Comprises

Nearly All The Continent Excepting The Extreme Southwestern Portion,

His Pipe Is The Indian'S Constant Companion Through Life.  It Is His

Messenger Of Peace; He Pledges His Friends Through Its Stem And Its

Bowl, And When He Is Dead, It Has A Place In his Solitary Grave,

With His War-Club And Arrows--Companions On His Journey To His

Long-Fancied beautiful Hunting-Grounds.  The Pipe Of Peace Is A Sacred

Thing; So Held By All Indian Nations, And Kept In possession Of Chiefs,

To Be Smoked only At Times Of Peacemaking.  When The Terms Of Treaty

Have Been Agreed upon, This Sacred emblem, The Stem Of Which Is

Ornamented with Eagle'S Quills, Is Brought Forward, And The Solemn

Pledge To Keep The Peace Is Passed through The Sacred stem By Each

Chief And Warrior Drawing The Smoke Once Through It.  After The

Ceremony Is Over, The Warriors Of The Two Tribes Unite In the Dance,

With The Pipe Of Peace Held In the Left Hand Of The Chief And In his

Other A Rattle.

 

 

 

Thousands Of Years Ago, The Primitive Savage Of The American Continent

Carried masses Of Pipe-Stone From The Sacred quarry In minnesota

Across The Vast Wilderness Of Plains, To Trade With The People Of

The Far Southwest, Over The Same Route That Long Afterward Became

The Santa Fe Trail; Therefore, It Will Be Consistent With The Character

Of This Work To Relate The History Of The Quarry From Which All The

Tribes Procured their Material For Fashioning Their Pipes, And The

Curious Legends Connected with It.  I Have Met With The Red sandstone

Pipes On The Remotest Portions Of The Pacific Coast, And East, West,

North And South, In every Tribe That It Has Been My Fortune To Know.

 

 

 

The Word "Dakotah" Means Allied or Confederated, And Is The Family

Name Now Comprising Some Thirty Bands, Numbering about Thirty Thousand

Indians.  They Are Generally Designated sioux, But That Title Is

Seldom Willingly Acknowledged by Them.  It Was First Given To Them

By The French, Though Its Original Interpretation Is By No Means Clear.

The Accepted theory, Because It Is The Most Plausible, Is That It Is

A Corruption Or Rather An Abbreviation Of "Nadouessioux," A Chippewa

Word For Enemies.

 

 

 

Many Of The Sioux Are Semi-Civilized; Some Are "Blanket-Indians,"

So Called, But There Are No Longer Any Murderous Or Predatory Bands,

And All Save A Few Stragglers Are On The Reservations.  From 1812 To

1876, More Than Half A Century, They Were The Scourge Of The West And

The Northwest, But Another Outbreak Is Highly Improbable.  They Once

Occupied the Vast Region Included between The Mississippi And The

Rocky Mountains, And Were Always Migratory In their Methods Of Living.

Over Fifty Years Ago, When The Whites First Became Acquainted with

Them, They