Indian Boyhood [66]
an arrow through three antelopes. This statement may perhaps be doubted, yet I can vouch for its authenticity. He was not alone at the time, and those who were with him are reliable witnesses. The animals were driven upon a marshy peninsula, where they were crowded together and almost helpless. Many were despatched with knives and arrows; and a man by the name of Grey-foot, who was large and tall and an extraordinarily fine hunter, actually sent his arrow through three of them. This feat was not accomplished by mere strength, for it re- quires a great deal of skill as well.
A misfortune occurred near the river which de- prived us of one of our best young men. There was no other man, except my own uncle, for whom I had at that time so great an admiration. Very strangely, as it appeared to me, he bore a Chris- tian name. He was commonly called Jacob. I did not discover how he came by such a curious and apparently meaningless name until after I had returned to the United States. His father had been converted by one of the early missionaries, before the Minnesota massacre in 1862, and the boy had been baptized Jacob. He was an ideal woodsman and hunter and really a hero in my eyes. He was one of the party of seven who had attacked and put to rout the white soldiers.
The trouble arose thus. Jacob had taken from the soldiers two good mules, and soon afterward we fell in with some Canadian half-breeds who were desirous of trading for them. However, the young man would not trade; he was not at all dis- posed to part with his fine mules. A certain one of the mixed-bloods was intent upon getting pos- session of these animals by fair or unfair means. He invited Jacob to dinner, and treated him to whiskey; but the Indian youth declined the liquor. The half-breed pretended to take this refusal to drink as an insult. He seized his gun and shot his guest dead.
In a few minutes the scene was one of almost unprecedented excitement. Every adult Indian, female as well as male, was bent upon invading the camp of the bois brules, to destroy the mur- derer. The confusion was made yet more intol- erable by the wailing of the women and the sing- ing of death-songs.
Our number was now ten to one of the half- breeds. Within the circle formed by their carts they prepared for a desperate resistance. The hills about their little encampment were covered with warriors, ready to pounce upon them at the sig- nal of their chief.
The older men, however, were discussing in council what should be demanded of the half- breeds. It was determined that the murderer must be given up to us, to be punished accord- ing to the laws of the plains. If, however, they should refuse to give him up, the mode of attack decided upon was to build a fire around the offen- ders and thus stampede their horses, or at the least divide their attention. Meanwhile, the braves were to make a sudden onset.
Just then a piece of white, newly-tanned deer- skin was hoisted up in the center of the bois brule encampment. It was a flag of truce. One of their number approached the council lodge, un- armed and making the sign for a peaceful com- munication. He was admitted to the council, which was still in session, and offered to give up the murderer. It was also proposed, as an alter- native, that he be compelled to give everything he had to the parents of the murdered man.
The parents were allowed no voice whatever in the discussion which followed, for they were re- garded as incompetent judges, under the circum- stances. It was finally decreed by the council that the man's life should be spared, but that he must be exposed to the indignity of a public whip- ping, and resign all his earthly possessions to the parents of his victim. This sentence was carried into effect.
In our nomadic life there were a few unwritten laws by which our people were governed. There was a council, a police force, and an executive offi- cer, who was not always the chief, but a member of the tribe appointed to this position for a given number of days. There were
A misfortune occurred near the river which de- prived us of one of our best young men. There was no other man, except my own uncle, for whom I had at that time so great an admiration. Very strangely, as it appeared to me, he bore a Chris- tian name. He was commonly called Jacob. I did not discover how he came by such a curious and apparently meaningless name until after I had returned to the United States. His father had been converted by one of the early missionaries, before the Minnesota massacre in 1862, and the boy had been baptized Jacob. He was an ideal woodsman and hunter and really a hero in my eyes. He was one of the party of seven who had attacked and put to rout the white soldiers.
The trouble arose thus. Jacob had taken from the soldiers two good mules, and soon afterward we fell in with some Canadian half-breeds who were desirous of trading for them. However, the young man would not trade; he was not at all dis- posed to part with his fine mules. A certain one of the mixed-bloods was intent upon getting pos- session of these animals by fair or unfair means. He invited Jacob to dinner, and treated him to whiskey; but the Indian youth declined the liquor. The half-breed pretended to take this refusal to drink as an insult. He seized his gun and shot his guest dead.
In a few minutes the scene was one of almost unprecedented excitement. Every adult Indian, female as well as male, was bent upon invading the camp of the bois brules, to destroy the mur- derer. The confusion was made yet more intol- erable by the wailing of the women and the sing- ing of death-songs.
Our number was now ten to one of the half- breeds. Within the circle formed by their carts they prepared for a desperate resistance. The hills about their little encampment were covered with warriors, ready to pounce upon them at the sig- nal of their chief.
The older men, however, were discussing in council what should be demanded of the half- breeds. It was determined that the murderer must be given up to us, to be punished accord- ing to the laws of the plains. If, however, they should refuse to give him up, the mode of attack decided upon was to build a fire around the offen- ders and thus stampede their horses, or at the least divide their attention. Meanwhile, the braves were to make a sudden onset.
Just then a piece of white, newly-tanned deer- skin was hoisted up in the center of the bois brule encampment. It was a flag of truce. One of their number approached the council lodge, un- armed and making the sign for a peaceful com- munication. He was admitted to the council, which was still in session, and offered to give up the murderer. It was also proposed, as an alter- native, that he be compelled to give everything he had to the parents of the murdered man.
The parents were allowed no voice whatever in the discussion which followed, for they were re- garded as incompetent judges, under the circum- stances. It was finally decreed by the council that the man's life should be spared, but that he must be exposed to the indignity of a public whip- ping, and resign all his earthly possessions to the parents of his victim. This sentence was carried into effect.
In our nomadic life there were a few unwritten laws by which our people were governed. There was a council, a police force, and an executive offi- cer, who was not always the chief, but a member of the tribe appointed to this position for a given number of days. There were