Читать книгу The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam - Frost John - Страница 13

R. CATLIN met with many interesting adventures, while visiting the numerous and savage tribes of the great west, for the purpose of seeing and judging for himself, of their habits and modes of life. One of these he details in his valuable work, as “The Story of the Dog,” and as it is a fine illustration of the dangers encountered by adventurers among the Indians, and of the certainty of revenge which follows an injury, we here insert it:

I had passed up the Missouri river, on the steamboat Yellow Stone, on which I ascended the Missouri to the mouth of Yellow Stone river. While going up, this boat, having on board the United States Indian agent, Major Sanford – Messrs. Pierre, Chouteau, McKenzie of the American Fur Company, and myself, as passengers, stopped at this trading-post, and remained several weeks; where were assembled six hundred families of Sioux Indians, their tents being pitched in close order on an extensive prairie on the bank of the river.

This trading-post, in charge of Mr. Laidlaw, is the concentrating place, and principal depot, for this powerful tribe, who number, when all taken together, something like forty or fifty thousand. On this occasion, five or six thousand had assembled to see the steamboat, and meet the Indian agent, which, and whom they knew were to arrive about this time. During the few weeks that we remained there, I was busily engaged painting my portraits, for here were assembled the principal chiefs and medicine-men of the nation. To these people, the operations of my brush were entirely new and unaccountable, and excited amongst them the greatest curiosity imaginable. Every thing else, even the steamboat, was abandoned for the pleasure of crowding into my painting-room, and witnessing the result of each fellow’s success, as he came out from under the operation of my brush.

They had been at first much afraid of the consequences that might flow from so strange and unaccountable an operation; but having been made to understand my views, they began to look upon it as a great honor, and afforded me the opportunities that I desired; exhibiting the utmost degree of vanity for their appearance, both as to features and dress. The consequence was, that my room was filled with the chiefs who sat around, arranged according to the rank or grade which they held in the estimation of their tribe; and in this order it became necessary for me to paint them, to the exclusion of those who never signalized themselves, and were without any distinguishing character in society.

The first man on the list, was Ha-wan-ghee-ta, (one horn,) head chief of the nation, and after him the subordinate chief, or chiefs of bands, according to the estimation in which they were held by the chief or tribe. My models were thus placed before me, whether ugly or beautiful, all the same, and I saw at once there was to be trouble somewhere, as I could not paint them all. The medicine-men or high priests, who are esteemed by many the oracles of the nation, and the most important men in it – becoming jealous, commenced their harangues, outside of the lodge, telling them that they were all fools – that those who were painted would soon die in consequence; and that these pictures, which had life to a considerable degree in them, would live in the hands of white men after they were dead, and make them sleepless and endless trouble.

Those whom I had painted, though evidently somewhat alarmed, were unwilling to acknowledge it, and those whom I had not painted, unwilling to be outdone in courage, allowed me the privilege; braving and defying the danger that they were evidently more or less in dread of. Feuds began to arise too, among some of the chiefs of the different bands, who, (not unlike some instances among the chiefs and warriors of our own country,) had looked upon their rival chiefs with unsleeping jealousy, until it had grown into disrespect and enmity. An instance of this kind presented itself at this critical juncture, in this assembly of inflammable spirits, which changed in a moment, its features, from the free and jocular garrulity of an Indian levee, to the frightful yells and agitated treads and starts of an Indian battle. I had in progress at this time, a portrait of Mah-to-tchee-ga, (little bear;) of the Onc-pa-pa band, a noble fine fellow, who was sitting before me as I was painting. I was painting almost a profile view of his face, throwing a part of it into shadow, and had it nearly finished, when an Indian by the name of Shon-ka, (the dog,) chief of the Caz-a-zshee-ta band, an ill-natured and surly man – despised by the chiefs of every other band, entered the wigwam in a sullen mood, and seated himself on the floor in front of my sitter, where he could have a full view of the picture in its operation. After sitting a while with his arms folded, and his lips stiffly arched with contempt, he sneeringly spoke thus:

“Mah-to-tchee-ga is but half a man.”

Dead silence ensued for a moment, and nought was in motion save the eyes of the chiefs, who were seated around the room, and darting their glances about upon each other in listless anxiety to hear the sequel that was to follow! During this interval, the eyes of Mah-to-tchee-ga had not moved – his lips became slightly curved, and he pleasantly asked in low and steady accent, “Who says that?”

“Shon-ka says it,” was the reply, “and Shonka can prove it.” At this the eyes of Mah-to-tchee-ga, which had not yet moved, began steadily to turn, and slow, as if upon pivots, and when they were rolled out of their sockets till they had fixed upon the object of their contempt; his dark and jutting brows were shoving down in trembling contention, with the blazing rays that were actually burning with contempt, the object that was before them. “Why does Shon-ka say it?”

“Ask We-chash-a-wa-kon, (the painter,) he can tell you; he knows you are but half a man – he has painted but one half of your face, and knows the other half is good for nothing!”

“Let the painter say it, and I will believe it; but when the Dog says it let him prove it.”

“Shon-ka has said it, and Shon-ka can prove it; if Mah-to-tchee-ga be a man, and wants to be honored by the white men, let him not be ashamed; but let him do as Shon-ka has done, give the white man a horse, and then let him see the whole of your face without being ashamed.”

“When Mah-to-tchee-ga kills a white man and steals his horses, he may be ashamed to look at a white man until he brings him a horse! When Mah-to-tchee-ga waylays and murders an honorable and brave Sioux, because he is a coward and not brave enough to meet him in fair combat, then he may be ashamed to look at a white man till he has given him a horse! Mah-to-tchee-ga can look at any one; and he is now looking at an old woman and a coward!”

This repartee, which had lasted for a few minutes, to the amusement and excitement of the chiefs, being thus ended: The Dog suddenly rose from the ground, and wrapping himself in his robe, left the wigwam, considerably agitated, having the laugh of all the chiefs upon him.

The Little Bear had followed him with his piercing eyes until he left the door, and then pleasantly and unmoved, resumed his position, where he sat a few minutes longer, until the portrait was completed. He then rose, and in a most graceful and gentlemanly manner, presented to me a very beautiful shirt of buckskin, richly garnished with quills of porcupine, wringed with scalp-locks (honorable memorials) from his enemies’ heads, and painted, with all his battles emblazoned on it. He then left my wigwam, and a few steps brought him to the door of his own, where the Dog intercepted him, and asked, “What meant Mah-to-tchee-ga, by the last words that he spoke to Shon-ka?”

“Mah-to-tchee-ga said it, and Shon-ka is not a fool – that is enough.” At this the Dog walked violently to his own lodge; and the Little Bear retreated into his, both knowing from looks and gestures what was about to be the consequence of their altercation.

The Little Bear instantly charged his gun, and then, as their custom is, threw himself upon his face, in humble supplication to the Great Spirit for his aid and protection. His wife, in the meantime, seeing him agitated, and fearing some evil consequences, without knowing any thing of the preliminaries, secretly withdrew the bullet from the gun, and told him not of it.

The Dog’s voice, at this moment, was heard, and recognized at the door of Mah-to-Shee-ga’s lodge, “If Mah-to-tchee-ga be a whole man, let him come out and prove it; it is Shon-ka that calls him!”

His wife screamed; but it was too late. The gun was in his hand, and he sprang out of the door – both drew and simultaneously fired. The Dog fled uninjured; but the Little Bear lay weltering in his blood (strange to say!) with all that side of his face shot away, which had been left out of the picture; and, according to the prediction of the Dog, “good for nothing;” carrying away one half of the jaws, and the flesh from the nostrils and corner of the mouth, to the ear, including one eye, and leaving the jugular vein entirely exposed. Here was a “coup;” and any one accustomed to the thrilling excitement that such things produce in an Indian village, can form some idea of the frightful agitation amidst several thousand Indians, who were divided into jealous bands or clans, under ambitious and rival chiefs! In one minute a thousand guns and bows were seized! A thousand thrilling yells were raised; and many were the fierce and darting warriors who sallied round the Dog for his protection – he fled amidst a shower of bullets and arrows; but his braves were about him! The blood of the Onc-pa-pas was roused, and the indignant braves of that gallant band rushed forth from all quarters, and, swift upon their heels, were hot for vengeance! On the plain, and in full view of us, for some time, the whizzing arrows flew, and so did bullets, until the Dog and his brave followers were lost in distance on the prairie! In this rencontre, the Dog had his arm broken; but succeeded, at length, in making his escape.

On the next day after this affair took place, Little Bear died of his wound, and was buried amidst the most pitiful and heart-rending cries of his distracted wife, whose grief was inconsolable at the thought of having been herself the immediate and innocent cause of his death, by depriving him of his supposed protection.

This marvellous and fatal transaction was soon talked through the village, and the eyes of all this superstitious multitude were fixed on me as the cause of the calamity – my paintings and brushes were instantly packed, and all hands, Traders and Travellers, assumed at once a posture of defence.

I evaded, no doubt, in a great measure, the concentration of their immediate censure upon me, by expressions of great condolence, and by distributing liberal presents to the wife and relations of the deceased; and by uniting also with Mr. Laidlaw and the other gentlemen, in giving him honorable burial, where we placed over his grave a handsome Sioux lodge, and hung a white flag to wave over it.

On this occasion many were the tears that were shed for the brave and honorable Mah-to-tchee-ga, and all the warriors of his band swore sleepless vengeance on the Dog, until his life should answer for the loss of their chief.

On the day that he was buried, I started for the mouth of the Yellow Stone, and while I was gone, the spirit of vengeance had pervaded nearly all the Sioux country in search of the Dog, who had evaded pursuit. His brother, however, a noble and honorable fellow, esteemed by all who knew him, fell in their way in an unlucky hour, when their thirst for vengeance was irresistible, and they slew him. Repentance deep, and grief were the result of this rash act, when they beheld a brave and worthy man fall for so worthless a character; and as they became exasperated, the spirit of revenge grew more desperate than ever, and they swore they never would lay down their arms or embrace their wives and children until vengeance, full and complete, should light upon the head that deserved it. This brings us again to the first part of my story, and in this state were things in that part of the country, when I was descending the river, four months afterwards, and landed my canoe, as I before stated, at Laidlaw’s trading-post.

The excitement had been kept up all summer among these people, and their superstitions bloated to the full brim, from circumstances so well calculated to feed and increase them. Many of them looked at me at once as the author of all these disasters, considering I knew that one half of the man’s face was good for nothing, or that I would not have left it out of the picture, and that I must have foreknown the evils that were to flow from the omission; they consequently resolved that I was a dangerous man, and should suffer for my temerity in case the Dog could not be found. Councils had been held, and in all the solemnity of Indian medicine and mystery, I had been doomed to die! At one of these, a young warrior of the Onc-pa-pa band, arose and said, “The blood of two chiefs has been sunk into the ground, and a hundred bows are bent which are ready to shed more! on whom shall we bend them? I am a friend to the white man, but here is one whose medicine is too great – he is a great medicineman! his medicine is too great! he was the death of Mah-to-tchee-ga! he made only one side of his face! he would not make the other – the side that he made was alive; the other was dead, and Shon-ka shot it off! How is this? Who is to die?”

After him, Tah-zee-kee-da-cha (torn belly,) of the Yankton band, arose, and said, “Father, this medicine-man has done much harm! You told our chiefs and warriors, that they must be painted – you said he was a good man, and we believed you! you thought so, my father, but you see what he has done! – he looks at our chiefs and our women and then makes them alive!! In this way he has taken our chiefs away, and he can trouble their spirits when they are dead! – they will be unhappy. If he can make them alive by looking at them, he can do us much harm! – you tell us that they are not alive – we see their eyes move! – their eyes follow us wherever we go, that is enough! I have no more to say!” After him arose a young man of the Onc-pa-pa band. “Father! you know that I am the brother of Mah-to-tchee-ga! – you know that I loved him – both sides of his face were good, and the medicine-man knew it also! Why was half of his face left out? He never was ashamed, but always looked white man in the face! Why was that side of his face shot off? Your friend is not our friend, and has forfeited his life – we want you to tell us where he is – we want to see him!”

Then rose Toh-ki-e-to (a medicine-man,) of the Yankton band, and principal orator of the nation. “My friend, these are young men that speak – I am not afraid! your white medicine-man painted my picture, and it was good – I am glad of it – I am very glad to see that I shall live after I am dead! – I am old and not afraid! – some of our young men are foolish. I know that this man put many of our buffaloes in his book! for I was with him, and we have had no buffaloes since to eat, it is true – but I am not afraid!! his medicine is great and I wish him well – we are friends.” Thus rested the affair of the Dog and its consequences, until I conversed with Major Bean, the agent for these people, who arrived in St.