John Tanner - A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

After I had finished my hunt, and at about the usual time for assembling in the spring, I began to descend the Bi-gwi-o-nush-ko to go to the traders on Red River. Most of the Indians had left their camps and gone on before me. As I was one morning passing one of our usual encamping places, I saw on shore a little stick standing in the bank, and attached to the top of it a piece of birch bark. On examination, I found the mark of a rattle snake with a knife, the handle touching the snake, and the point sticking into a bear, the head of the latter being down. Near the rattle-snake was the mark of a beaver, one of its dugs, it being a female, touching the snake. This was left for my information, and I learned from it that Wa-me-gon-a-biew, whose totem was She-she-gwah, the rattlesnake, had killed a man whose totem was Muk-kwah, the bear. The murderer could be no other than Wa-me-gon-a-biew, as it was specified that he was the son of a woman whose totem was the beaver, and this I knew could be no other than Net-no-kwa. As there were but few of the bear totem in our band, I was confident the man killed was a young man called Ke-zha-zhoons. That he was dead, and not wounded merely, was indicated by the drooping down of the head of the bear. I was not deterred by this information from continuing my journey. On the contrary, I hastened on, and arrived in time to witness the interment of the young man my brother had killed. Wa-me-gon-a-biew went by himself, and dug a grave wide enough for two men; then the friends of Ke-zha-zhoons brought his body, and when it was let down into the grave, Wa-me-gon-a-biew took off all his clothes, except his breech cloth, and sitting down naked at the head of the grave, drew his knife, and offered the handle to the nearest male relative of the deceased. “My friend,” said he, “I have killed your brother. You see I have made a grave wide enough for both of us, and I am now ready and willing to sleep with him.” The first and second, and eventually all the friends of the murdered young man, refused the knife which Wa-me-gon-a-biew offered them in succession. The relations of Wa-me-gon-a-biew were powerful, and it was fear of them which now saved his life. The offence of the young man whom he killed, had been the calling him “cut nose.” Finding that none of the male relations of the deceased were willing to undertake publicly the punishment of his murderer, Wa-me-gon-a-biew said to them, “trouble me no more, now or hereafter, about this business. I shall do again as I have now done, if any of you venture to give me similar provocation.”

The method by which information of this affair was communicated to me at a distance, is one in common use among the Indians, and, in most cases, it is perfectly explicit and satisfactory. The men of the same tribe are extensively acquainted with the totems which belong to each, and if on any record of this kind, the figure of a man appears without any designatory mark, it is immediately understood that he is a Sioux, or at least a stranger. Indeed, in most instances, as in that above mentioned, the figures of men are not used at all, merely the totem, or sirname, being given. In cases where the information to be communicated is that the party mentioned is starving, the figure of a man is sometimes drawn, and his mouth is painted white, or white paint may be smeared about the mouth of the animal, if it happens to be one, which is his totem.

After visiting the trader on Red River, I started with the intention of coming to the States, but at Lake Winnipeg I heard that the war between Great Britain and the United States still continued, with such disturbances on the frontier as would render it difficult for me to pass with safety. I was therefore compelled to stop by myself at that place, where I was after some time joined by Pe-shau-ba, Waw-zhe-kah-maish-koon, and others, to the number of three lodges. The old companion and associate of Pe-shau-ba, Waw-so, had been accidentally killed by an Assinneboin in hunting. Here we lived in plenty and contentment, but Pe-shau-ba, upon whom the death of his friend Waw-so had made some impression, was soon taken violently ill. He was conscious that his end was approaching, and very frequently told us he should not live long. One day he said to me, “I remember before I came to live in this world, I was with the Great Spirit above. And I often looked down, and saw men upon the earth. I saw many good and desirable things, and among others, a beautiful woman, and as I looked day after day at the woman, he said to me, ’Pe-shau-ba, do you love the woman you are so often looking at?’ I told him I did. Then he said to me, ’Go down and spend a few winters on the earth. You cannot stay long, and you must remember to be always kind and good to my children whom you see below.’ So I came down, but I have never forgotten what was said to me. I have always stood in the smoke between the two bands when my people have fought with their enemies. I have not struck my friends in their lodges. I have disregarded the foolishness of young men who would have offended me, but have always been ready and willing to lead our brave men against the Sioux. I have always gone into battle painted black, as I now am, and I now hear the same voice that talked to me before I came to this world: it tells me I can remain here no longer. To you, my brother, I have been a protector, and you will be sorry when I leave you; but be not like a woman, you will soon follow in my path.” He then put on the new clothes I had given him to wear below, walked out of the lodge, looked at the sun, the sky, the lake, and the distant hills; then come in, and lay down composedly in his place in the lodge, and in a few minutes ceased to breathe.

After the death of Pe-shau-ba, I wished to have made another attempt to come to the States, but Waw-zhe-kah-maish-koon prevented me. I lived with him the remainder of the winter, and in the spring went to Ne-bo-wese-be, (Dead River,) where we planted corn, and spent the summer. In the fall, after the corn was gathered, we went to our hunting grounds.

An old Ojibbeway, called Crooked Finger, had been living in my lodge about a year; in all that time, having never killed any thing. When I started to hunt buffalo, he followed me, and we came at the same time in view of a large herd, when the old man endeavoured to raise a quarrel about my right to use those hunting grounds. “You Ottawwaws,” said he, “have no right in this part of the country, and though I cannot control all of you, I have you, at last, now in my power, and I am determined that if you do not go back to your own country from this very spot, I will kill you.” I had no apprehension on account of his threat, and I defied him to injure or molest me. After an hour or more of altercation, he crept up, and at length began to shoot at the herd of buffalo. Soon after he had left me, two Ottawwaws who had overheard the quarrel as they were coming up, and had concealed themselves in the bushes near, joined me. The old man, after three or four unsuccessful shots at the buffalo, turned and went home, ashamed alike of his insolence to me, and of his want of success. Then I went forward with the two young Ottawwaws who had joined me, and we killed a considerable number of fat cows.

Shortly after this, when I had been hunting all day, on returning home late at night, I found a very unusual gloominess in the countenances of all the inmates of my lodge. I saw there a man named Chik-ah-to, who was almost a stranger to me. He, and all the rest of them, seemed as if cast down by some sudden and unexpected bad news, and when I asked my wife the cause of this apparent distress, she returned me no answer. At length, Waw-zhe-kah-maish-koon, in reply to my earnest inquiries, told me, with the utmost seriousness, and a voice of solemn concern, that the Great Spirit had come down again. “What, has he come again so soon?” said I; “He comes often of late, but I suppose we must hear what he has to say.” The light and irreverent manner in which I treated the subject, was very offensive to many of the Indians, and they apparently all determined to withhold from me all communications respecting it. This was to me a matter of little consequence, and I went, as usual, to my hunting on the following morning. My own indifference and contempt for these pretended revelations of the Divine will kept me in ignorance for some time of the purport of the present one. But at a subsequent period of my life, I found that though my skepticism might not be offensive to the Great God, in whose name these revelations were made to us, still it was highly so to those who were pleased to style themselves his messengers, and that by incurring their ill will I exposed myself to much inconvenience and danger.