A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

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 them 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.

Next day, as Waw-bebe-nais-sa was much bruised and sore, and his face in particular very badly swollen, I thought probable he would remain in his lodge, and apprehending danger to my wife if she should be left alone in the lodge, I sent her to carry forward meat, and remained myself at home. But I was much fatigued, and being alone in my lodge, about the middle of the day I fell asleep. Suspecting, or perhaps knowing this, Waw-bebe-nais-sa crept slyly in with his knife in his hand, and was almost near enough to strike me, when I awoke and sprang up. As I was not unarmed, he started back and fled, but I did not pursue him. He still continued to threaten and molest me. Whenever he met me in the path, he would not turn aside, though he was unloaded, and I might have a heavy burthen on my back. His eye was for many days so swollen that he could not see out of it, and his whole appearance very ludicrous, he being at best but an awkward and homely man. Once, after an unsuccessful attempt to stab me, he went home, and in the impatience of his baffled rage, made the squaw’s gesture of contempt towards my lodge, which exposed him to the ridicule even of his own friends among the Indians.

His persecutions were, however, troublesome to me, and I endeavoured to avoid him. One day I had preceded the party, and as we were travelling in a beaten path which I knew they would follow, I turned a little out of it to place my camp where I should not necessarily be in the way of seeing him. But when he came to the fork of my road, with his little son twelve years old, I heard him say to the lad, “stop here while I go and kill this white man.” He then threw down his load, and though his son entreated him not to do any thing, he came up within about fifty yards of me, drew his gun from its case, cocked it, and pointed it at me. Having held it in this position some time, and seeing he did not excite my fears, he began to approach me, jumping from side to side, and yelling in the manner of warriors when they approach each other in battle. He continued pointing his gun at me, and threatening me so loudly that I was at last irritated, and caught up my own gun. The little boy ran up, and throwing his arms about me, entreated me to spare his father, though he was a fool. I then threw down my gun, seized the old man, and took his from him. I reproached him for his obstinate perseverance in such foolish practices. “I have,” said I, “put myself so often in your power, that you ought by this time to know you have not courage to kill me. You are not a man. You have not the heart even of a squaw, nor the courage of a dog. Now for the first time I speak to you. I wish you to know that I am tired of your foolishness, and that if you trouble me any more hereafter, it will be at the hazard of your own life.”

He then left me, and with all the others, except my own family, went on in advance. Next day I followed, drawing a loaded sled myself, and driving my dogs with their loads before me. As we approached a thicket of bushes, I cautioned my daughter Martha, that Waw-bebe-nais-sa might probably be lying in ambush somewhere among them. Presently I saw her leap several feet from the ground, then she came running towards me, with her hands raised, and crying, “My father! My father!” I seized my gun and sprang forward, examined every place for concealment, passed the lodge poles, and the almost extinguished fires of their last encampement, and returned without having discovered any thing. When I inquired of my daughter what had occasioned her alarm, she said she had “smelt fire.” So great was the terror and apprehension with which her mind was agitated on account of the annoyances Waw-bebe-nais-sa had given us.

I was so glad to be released from the persecutions of this troublesome man that I now resolved to stop at Rush Lake and remain there by myself, as I thought it was the intention of Waw-bebe-nais-sa and the other Indians to proceed immediately to the Lake of the Woods. So I selected a place where I intended to establish my camp for the remainder of the winter. Here I left my children to take care of the lodge, and my wife and myself returned to bring up loads of meat. On coming home at night, the children told us their grandmother had in our absence been to see them, and had left word that her daughter must come on the following day to see her, and that there were, in that place, three or four lodges of our friends encamped together. I readily gave my consent to this arrangement, and as my mother-in-law had left a message particularly for me, I consented to accompany her, saying that we could bring up the remainder of the meat after we should return. But that night I dreamed, and the same young man whom I had repeatedly seen in the preparations for my medicine hunts came down as usual through the hole in the top of my lodge, and stood directly before me. “You must not go,” said he, “to the place you propose to visit to-morrow. But if you persist, and will disregard my admonition, you shall see what will happen to you there. Look there,” said he, pointing in the opposite direction, and I saw She-gwaw-koo-sink, Me-zhuk-ko-naun, and others of my friends coming. Then pointing upwards, he told me to look, and I saw a small hawk with a banded tail, flying about over my head. He said no more, but turned and went out at the door of my lodge. I awoke much troubled in my mind, and could sleep no more. In the morning, I told my wife I could not go with her. “What is the reason,” said she, “you cannot accompany me as you promised yesterday?” I told her my dream, but she accused me of fear, and as she continued her solicitations, I finally consented to go.

In the morning, I told my children that their uncle and other Indians would come to the lodge that day. That they must tell them, if I returned at all, it would be by noon. If I did not come then, they might conclude I was dead. I then started with my wife, but I had not gone two hundred yards when I looked up and saw the same small hawk that had appeared to me in my dream. I knew that this was sent to forewarn me of evil, and again I told my wife I could not go. But though I turned back to go towards my own lodge, she again reproached me with fear, and pretended to ridicule my apprehensions. I knew, also, the strong prejudice that existed against me in the family of my mother-in-law, and the tendency of my refusing, in this case, to visit her, would be to confirm and make them stronger. I therefore, though contrary to my better judgment, consented to go on.

When I arrived at the lodge of my mother-in-law, I left my gun at the door, went in, and took a seat between two of the sisters of my wife who were the wives of one man. They had young children, and I was playing with two of these, with my head down, when I heard a loud and sudden noise, and immediately lost my senses. I saw no one, and I remembered nothing till I began to revive. Then I found several women holding my hands and arms, and I saw the expression of terror and alarm in the faces of all about me. I could not comprehend my situation, and knew nothing of what had happened, until I heard on the outside of the lodge, a loud and insulting voice, which I knew to be that of Waw-bebe-nais-sa. I now began to feel something like warm water on my face, and putting my hand to my head, I laid my fingers on my naked skull. I at length broke away from the women who held me, and pursued after Waw-bebe-nais-sa, but I could not overtake him as the Indians assisted him in keeping out of my way. Towards night I returned to my lodge, though very severely wounded, and, as I believed, with the bones of my skull broken. A very little blood had run down upon my face when I was first wounded, but for a considerable time afterwards none flowed, and though I heard strange noises in my head, I did not faint or fall down until I reached my own lodge. My gun Waw-bebe-nais-sa had taken from the door of the lodge of my mother-in-law, and I had to return without it.

At my lodge, I found She-gwaw-koo-sink, Me-zhuk-ko-naun, and Nah-gaun-esh-kaw-waw, a son-in-law of Wa-ge-tote, more commonly called Oto-pun-ne-be. The moment I took She-gwaw-koo-sink by the hand, the blood spouted in a stream from my head. “What is the matter, my son?” said he. “I have been at play with another man, and the water of the Be-gwi-o-mus-ko having made us drunk, we have played rather roughly.” I wished to treat the matter lightly, but as I immediately fainted away, they saw the extent of the wound I had received. Oto-pun-ne-be had formerly been an acquaintance of mine, and had always shown a friendly disposition towards me. He now seemed much affected at my misfortune, and of his own accord undertook to punish Waw-bebe-nais-sa for his unjust violence. This man, to whom I was often under obligation for the kindnesses he bestowed upon me, has since experienced the fate which overtakes so many of all characters and descriptions of people among the Ojibbeways of that country: he has perished of hunger.

When I had entered the lodge of my mother-in-law, I had omitted to pull off the hood of my thick moose-skin capote, and it was this which prevented me from noticing the entrance of Waw-bebe-nais-sa into the lodge, or seeing, or hearing his approach towards me. It is probable also, that had not my head been thus covered, the blow, had it been made, would have proved instantly fatal to me, as the force of it must have been somewhat broken by this thick covering of leather. But as it was, the skull was fractured, and there is still a large ridge upon that part of it where the edge of the tomahawk fell. It was very long before I recovered from this wound, though the immediate confinement which followed it did not last so long as I had feared it must.

Waw-bebe-nais-sa fled immediately to our village at Me-naw-zhe-tau-naung, and the remainder of the people, having never hunted in the prairie before now became panic struck at the idea that the Sioux would fall upon their trail and pursue them. I was too weak to travel, and moreover I knew well we were in no danger from the Sioux, but my mother-in-law found much fault because I was not willing to start with the Indians. I knew that my mother-in-law, and I had reason to suppose that my wife, had been willing to aid Waw-bebe-nais-sa in his attempt on my life, and I therefore told them both to leave me if they wished. They went accordingly, and took all my children with them. The only person who did not desert me at this time was Oto-pun-ne-be, as he was called from his bear totem, with his cousin, a lad of fourteen years old. These two remained and performed for me those offices of attention and kindness which my situation required, while those who should have been my friends abandoned me to my fate. After the fourth day, I became much worse, and was unable to sit up, and almost to move, until the tenth day, when I began to recover.

After I had gained a little strength, we left the lodges as they had been abandoned by the Indians in their fright, all standing, some of them filled with meat, and other valuable property, and started together for the village. Our trader lived at some distance from the village, and when we arrived at the place where the roads forked, I agreed with Oto-pun-ne-be that I would meet him at an appointed place, on the day which he named, as that on which he would return from the village. I went accordingly to the trader’s, and he to the Indian’s camp. We met again at the time and place agreed on, when he related to me, that he went to the village, entered the lodge of one of the principal chiefs, and sat down. He had not been long there, when Waw-bebe-nais-sa came in and sat down opposite him. After regarding each other for some time, Waw-bebe-nais-sa said to him, “You, Oto-pun-ne-be, have never been in our village before, and I am not ignorant of the occasion which has brought you so far to see us. You have no brothers of your own, the Long Knives having killed all of them, and you are now so foolish as to call the man whom I beat the other day your brother.” “It is not true,” said Oto-pun-ne-be, “that the Long Knives have killed any brother of mine. But if they had, I would not suffer you to fall upon my friend, who is as one of us, and abuse and injure him, as you have done, without cause or provocation. It is true, I call him my brother, and I will avenge his cause as if he were such, but I will not spill blood in the lodge of this chief, who has received me as a friend.” So saying, he took Waw-bebe-nais-sa by the hand, dragged him out of the lodge, and was about to plunge the knife to his heart, when the chief, who was a strong man, caught his hand, took away the knife, and broke it. In the scuffle which ensued, three or four men were at once upon Oto-pun-ne-be, but he being a powerful man, and not forgetting the object of his journey, kept fast his grip upon Waw-bebe-nais-sa, and did not quit him until two of his ribs were broken, and he was otherwise severely injured. Oto-pun-ne-be was a quiet man, even when drunk, and if he ever entered into a quarrel, it was more commonly, as in this case, in the cause of his friend, rather than his own.

I was content with the punishment that had been thus bestowed upon Waw-bebe-nais-sa, as I thought two broken ribs about equal to the broken head he had given me. We feasted together on game I had killed, so rapid had been my recovery, and then returned to the deserted camp where we found the lodges all standing as we had left them. After about ten days more, the people began to come back to look after their property. Oto-pun-ne-be took my canoe and returned to Red River, where he lived.

All our people returned, and removed their lodges and their property to Me-naw-zhe-tau-naung. I had now a great store of meat, sufficient as I knew, to supply the wants of my family for a year or more. After making the best disposition I could of all my affairs, I took a small canoe, and started by myself with the intention of coming to Mackinac, intending to go thence to the states, and endeavour to find some of my relatives, if any remained.

At Rainy Lake, I fell in with Mr. Giasson and others in the employ of the Hudson’s Bay Company, who told me it would not be safe for me to suffer myself to be seen by any of the North West Company’s people, as they were all much enraged against me on account of the course I had taken. Nevertheless, I knew well that the Hudson’s Bay people, having no occasion to go to the lower end of Lake Superior, could not conveniently aid me themselves, and that if I attempted to go alone, I must unavoidably fall in with some of the North West. I went, therefore, directly to the trading-house at Rainy Lake, where I found my old trader, Mr. Tace. He was standing on the bank when I came up with my little canoe. He told me to come into the house, and I followed him in accordingly. He then asked me, rather sternly, what I had come to him for. “Why do you not go,” said he, “to your own people of the Hudson’s Bay Company?” I told him I was now wishing to go to the states.

“It would have been well,” he replied, “had you gone long ago.” I waited there twenty days, receiving all the time the kindest treatment from Mr. Tace. He then brought me in his own canoe to Fort William, whence Dr. M’Laughlin sent me in one of his boats to the Saut De St. Marie, and thence Mr. Ermatinger brought me to Mackinac. All the people of the North West Company, whom I saw on this journey, treated me kindly, and no one mentioned a word of my connection with the Hudson’s Bay.

Major Puthuff, the United States Indian Agent at Mackinac gave me a birch bark canoe, some provisions, and a letter to Gov. Cass at Detroit. My canoe was lashed to the side of the schooner, on board which I sailed for Detroit under the care of a gentleman whose name I do not recollect, but who, as I thought, was sent by Major Puthuff expressly to take care of me on the way. In five days we arrived, and the gentleman telling me to wait until he could go on shore and return, he left me, and I heard no more of him. Next day I went on shore by myself, and walking up into the street I stood for some time gazing around me. At length, I saw an Indian, and going up to him, asked who he was, and where he belonged. He answered me, “An Ottawwaw, of Saw-ge-nong.” “Do you know Gish-kaw-ko?” said I. “He is my father.” “And where,” said I, “is Manito-o-geezhik, his father, and your grand-father?” “He died last fall.” I told him to go and call his father to come and see me. He called him, but the old man would not come.

Next day, as I was again standing in the street, and looking one way and the other, I saw an old Indian, and ran after him. When he heard me coming, he turned about, and after looking anxiously at me for a few moments, caught me in his arms. It was Gish-kaw-ko, but he looked very unlike the young man who had taken me prisoner so many years before. He asked me, in a hurried manner, many questions, inquired what had happened to me, and where I had been since I left him, and many such questions. I tried to induce him to take me to the house of Gov. Cass, but he appeared afraid to go. Finding I could not prevail upon him, I took Major Puthuff s letter in my hand, and having learned from the Indians in which house the governor lived, I went toward the gate, till a soldier, who was walking up and down before it, stopped me. I could not speak English so as to be at all understood, but seeing the governor sitting in his porch, I held up the letter towards him. He then told the soldier to let me pass in. As soon as he had opened the letter, he gave me his hand, and having sent for an interpreter, he talked a long time with me. Gish-kaw-ko having been sent for, confirmed my statement respecting the circumstances of my capture, and my two years residence with the Ottawwaws of Saw-ge-nong.

The governor gave me clothing to the amount of sixty or seventy dollars value, and sent me to remain, for the present, at the house of his interpreter more than a mile distant, where he told me I must wait till he should assemble many Indians and white men, to hold a council at St. Mary’s on the Miami, whence he would send me to my relatives on the Ohio.

I waited two months or more, and becoming extremely impatient to go on my way, I started with Be-nais-sa, the brother of Gish-kaw-ko, and eight other men who were going to the council. I went without the knowledge of Gov. Cass, and was therefore destitute of any supply of provisions. We suffered much from fatigue, and still more from hunger, particularly after we passed the rapids of the Miami where we left our canoe. The Indians among whom we passed oftentimes refused to give us any thing, though they had plenty. Sometimes we stopped to sleep near a white man’s corn field, and though the corn was now fit to roast, and we almost perishing with hunger, we dared not take any thing. One night, we stopped near a good looking house, where was a large and fine corn field. The Indians, being very hungry, said to me, “Shaw-shaw-was ne-ba-se, you have come very far to see your relations, now go in and see whether they will give you any thing to eat.” I went and stood in the door, but the people within, who were then eating, drove me away, and on my return the Indians laughed at me.

Some time after this, as we were sleeping one night in the road, some one came up on horseback, and asked us, in the Ottawwaw dialect, who we were. One of the Indians answered, “We are Ottawwaws and Ojibbeways, and have with us one Long Knife from Red River, who was taken prisoner many years ago by Gish-kaw-ko.” He told us, after he understood who we were, and where we were going, that his name was Ah-koo-nah-goo-zik. “If you are brisk travellers,” said he, “you may reach my house next day after to-morrow at noon, and then you will find plenty to eat. It is necessary that I should travel on all night, that I may reach home to-morrow.” And thus he left us. Next day, my strength failed so much that I was only able to keep up by being released from my load. One took my gun, another my blanket, and we reached that night the forks of the Miami, where was a settlement of Indians and a trading-house, as well as several families of whites. I applied to the trader, and stated my situation, and that of the Indians with me, but we could obtain no relief, and on the next day I was totally unable to travel. We were indebted to the Indians for what relief we obtained, which was sufficient to enable us the day after to reach the hospitable dwelling of Ah-ko-nah-goo-zik.

This man had two large kettles of corn and venison ready cooked, and awaiting our arrival. One he placed before me, with some wooden dishes, and spoons; the other before Be-nais-sa. After we had eaten, he told us we had better remain with him ten or fifteen days, and refresh ourselves from our long journey, as he had plenty of corn, and fat venison was abundant about him. I told him that for my own part I had for many years been wishing to make the journey I had now so nearly accomplished, and that I was extremely impatient to see whether or not any of my own relatives were still alive, but that I should be glad to rest with him two or three days, and afterwards to borrow one of his horses to ride as far as Kau-wis-se-no-ki-ug, or St. Mary’s. “I will tell you,” said he. After two or three days, as we were early one morning making up our loads to start, he came to me, leading a fine horse and putting the halter in my hand, he said, “I give you this for your journey.” I did not again tell him I would leave it at Kau-wis-se-no-ki-ug, as I had already told him this, and I knew that in such cases the Indians do not wish to hear much said. In two days I arrived at the place appointed for the council. As yet no Indians had assembled, but a man was stationed there to issue provisions to such as should come. I had been but a short time at this place when I was seized with fever and ague, which, though it did not confine me all the time, was yet extremely painful and distressing.

After about ten days, a young man of the Ottawwaws, whom Be-nais-sa had given me to cook for me and assist about me in my sickness, went across the creek to a camp of the Po-ta-wa-to-mies who had recently arrived and were drinking. At midnight he was brought into the lodge drunk, and one of the men who came with him, said to me, as he pushed him in, “Take care of your young man. He has been doing mischief.” I immediately called Be-nais-sa to kindle a fire, when we saw, by the light of it, the young man standing with his knife in his hand, and that, together with his arm and great part of his body covered with blood. The Indians could not make him lie down, but when I told him to, he obeyed immediately and I forbade them to make any inquiries about what he had done, or take any notice of his bloody knife. In the morning, having slept soundly, he was perfectly unconscious of all that had passed. He said he believed that he had been very drunk, and as he was now hungry, he must hurry and get ready something to eat. He was astonished and confounded when I told him he had killed a man. He remembered only that in his drunkenness he had began to cry for his father, who had been killed on that spot several years before by white men. He expressed much concern, and went immediately to see the man he had stabbed, who was not yet dead. We learned from the Po-ta-wa-to-mies that he had found the young man sleeping, or lying in a state of insensibility from intoxication, and had stabbed him without any words having been exchanged, and apparently without knowing who he was. The relations of the wounded man said nothing to him, but the interpreter of Gov. Cass reproved him very sharply.

It was evident to all that the young man he had wounded could not recover; indeed, he was now manifestly near his end. When our companion returned, we had made up a considerable present, one giving a blanket, one a piece of strouding, some one thing, and some another. With these he immediately returned, and placing them on the ground beside the wounded man, he said to the relatives who were standing about, “My friends, I have, as you see, killed this, your brother; but I knew not what I did. I had no ill will against him, and when, a few days since, he came to our camp, I was glad to see him. But drunkenness made me a fool, and my life is justly forfeited to you. I am poor, and among strangers, but some of those who came from my own country with me, would gladly bring me back to my parents. They have, therefore, sent me with this small present. My life is in your hands, and my present is before you, take which ever you choose. My friends will have no cause to complain.” He then sat down beside the wounded man, and stooping his head, hid his eyes with his hands, and waited for them to strike. But the mother of the man he had wounded, an old woman, came a little forward and said, “For myself and my children, I can answer, that we wish not to take your life; but I cannot promise to protect you from the resentment of my husband, who is now absent; nevertheless, I will accept your present, and whatever influence I may have with him, I shall not fail to use it in your behalf. I know that it was not from design, or on account of any previous hatred that you have done this, and why should your mother be made to cry as well as myself?” She took the presents, and the whole affair being reported to Gov. Cass, he was satisfied with the course that had been taken.

On the following day the wounded man died, and some of our party assisted the young man who had killed him in making his grave. When this was completed, the governor gave the dead man a valuable present of blankets, cloth, etc. to be buried with him, according to the Indian custom, and these were brought and heaped up on the brink of the grave. But the old woman, instead of having them buried, proposed to the young men to play for them. As the articles were somewhat numerous, various games were used, as shooting at the mark, leaping, wrestling, etc. but the handsomest piece of cloth was reserved as the prize for the swiftest in the foot race, and was won by the young man himself who had killed the other. The old woman immediately afterwards called him to her, and said, “Young man, he who was my son, was very dear to me, and I fear I shall cry much and often for him. I would be glad if you would consent to be my son in his stead, to love me and take care of me as he did, only I fear my husband.” The young man, who was grateful to her for the anxiety she showed to save his life, immediately consented to this arrangement, and entered heartily upon it. But the governor had heard that some of the friends of the deceased were still determined to avenge his death, and he sent his interpreter to the young man, to direct him, without loss of time, to make his escape, and fly to his own country. He was unwilling to go, but as Be-nais-sa and myself concurred with the governor in his advice, and assisted him in his preparations, he went off in the night; but instead of going immediately home, as he had been directed to do, he lay concealed in the woods only a few hundred yards from our lodge.

Very early next morning, I saw two of the friends of the young man that was killed coming towards our lodge. At first I was somewhat alarmed, as I supposed they came with the intention of doing violence; but I soon perceived they were without arms. They came in, and sat a long time silent. At last one of them said, “Where is our brother? We are sometimes lonely at home, and we wish to talk with him.” I told them he had but lately gone out, and would soon return. As they remained a long time, and insisted on seeing him, I went out, with the pretence of seeking for him, but without the remotest expectation that he would be found. He, however, had observed from his hiding place the visit of the two young men to our lodge, and not believing it to have been made with any unfriendly design, discovered himself to me and we returned together. They shook hands with him, and treated him with great kindness, and we soon afterwards ascertained that all the reports of their wishing to kill him were false.