A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

CHAPTER XIV Journey to Kentucky. – Hospitalities of the whites. – Return to Detroit. – Jackson. – St. Louis. – General Clark. – Return to the Lake of the Woods. – Col. Dickson. – Second journey to St. Louis, by Chikago and Fort Clark. – Kindness of the Potawattomies.

About the time of the conclusion of the council, Gov. Cass called me to dine with him; and as many gentlemen asked me to drink wine with them, I was, after dinner, scarce able to walk home. A few days afterwards the interpreter told me the governor had a curiosity to know whether I had acquired the same fondness the Indians usually have for intoxicating liquors, and whether, when drunk, I would behave as they did. But I had not felt the influence of the wine so much as to forget myself, or become unconscious of my situation, and I went immediately to my lodge and lay there until I was entirely sober.

Some of the Potawattomies had stolen the horse that was lent me on the road by the friendly old man, called Ah-koo-nah-goo-zik; but he was recovered by the young men who followed my friend Be-nais-sa, and I restored him to the owner who was at the council. Governor Cass, understanding how kind this man had been to me directed that a very handsome and valuable saddle should be given him. The old man for some time persisted in declining this present, but at last, when prevailed upon to receive it, he expressed much gratitude. “This,” said he, “is that which was told me by the old men who gave me instruction many years ago when I was a child. They told me to be kind, and to do good to all men, particularly to the stranger who should come from a distant country, and to all who were destitute and afflicted; saying, if I did so, the Great Spirit would also remember me, to do good to me, and reward me for what I had done. Now, though I have done so little for this man, how amply and honourably am I rewarded!” He would have persuaded me to take his horse, as he said he had more, and the saddle was more valuable than the horse he had lent me; and though I declined his offer, still he insisted upon it, until I consented that he should consider it as belonging to me, and should take care of it until I returned and called for it. Here the governor gave me goods to the amount of one hundred and twenty dollars value, and as I had still a considerable journey to make, I purchased a horse for eighty dollars, for which I gave a part of the goods I had received. There were at the council, among others, two men from Kentucky who knew something of my relations, one of them having lived from a child in the family of one of my sisters.

With these two men I started, though my health was still very poor. In a few days I had become so much worse that I could not sit on my horse, and they concluded to purchase a skiff, and one of them to take me down by water, while the other went with the horses by the usual route. In that part of the Big Miami are many mill-dams and other obstructions which rendered even this method, not only slow and laborious, but extremely distressing to me on account of my ill health. At last I was reduced to such a state of weakness as to be quite unable to move, and I stopped at the house of a poor man who lived on the bank of the river, and as he seemed greatly to pity me, and was disposed to do all in his power for my relief, I determined to remain with him, the man with whom I had travelled thus far making me understand that he would go to the Ohio, and either come back himself, or send some one after me.

This man with whom I stopped could speak a few words of Ottawwaw, and he did every thing in his power to render my situation comfortable, until my nephew, who was the person sent by my friends in Kentucky, came for me. By him I heard of the death of my father, and also some particulars of my surviving relatives. Before Gish-kau-ko, at Detroit, I had always supposed that the greater part, if not all of my father’s family, had been murdered by Manitoo-geezhik and his party the year subsequent to my capture. Our journey was very tedious and difficult to Cincinnati, where we rested a little. Thence we descended the Ohio in a skiff. My fever continued to return daily, and when the chill commenced, we were compelled to stop for some time so that our progress was not rapid. We were accompanied by one man who assisted my nephew to put me in and take me out of the skiff, for I was now reduced to a mere skeleton, and had not strength enough to walk or stand by myself.

As the night was coming on, after a very dark and cloudy day, we arrived at a handsome farm where was a large and rather good looking house. It was quite dark when we were ready to leave the skiff. They then raised me by the arms, and led, or rather carried me to the house. My nephew told the man our situation, and stated that I was so unwell it would be extremely difficult, and must even endanger my life, if we attempted to go farther; but he told us we could not stay at his house all night; and when my nephew persisted in his request, he drove us roughly and violently out of the house. The night had now considerably advanced, and the distance to the next house was a mile and a half; but as it stood back from the river, we could not go to it in our skiff. They accordingly supported me between them, and we went on. It was probably after midnight when we arrived at a large brick house. The people within were all in bed, and all the windows were dark, but my nephew knocked at the door, and after a little time a man came out. When he saw me he took hold of me, and assisted me to go in; then he called up his wife and daughters, and gave some supper to my companions. For me he prepared some medicine, and then made me go to bed, where I slept very quietly until late in the morning. At this house, I remained nearly all the next day, and was treated with the utmost kindness. From this time I began to get a little better, and without much more difficulty, I reached the place where my sister’s children were living. I stayed one night at the house of one of my nephews, whose name was John; then I went to the house of another brother, where I lay sick about a month.

A letter was now received which they made me understand was for me, but though they read it to me repeatedly, I could not comprehend a single word of the contents. All the time since my arrival here, I had lain sick, and no one being for any considerable part of the time with me, I had not learned either to understand, or make myself understood; but as I was now some better, and able often to walk about, when a second letter came, I could understand from it that my brother Edward, whose name I had never forgotten, had gone to Red River to search for me. Also, that one of my uncles, who lived one hundred miles distant, had sent for me to come to him.

My greatest anxiety was now on account of my brother Edward, and I immediately called for my horse, intending to return towards Red River and search for him. Twenty or thirty of the neighbours assembled around me when they heard that I wished to go back, and I could comprehend that they wished to dissuade me from going. But when they found I was obstinate, they gave me each a little money: some one shilling, some two shillings, and others larger sums, and I got upon my horse and started. I had rode about ten miles when fatigue and sickness overcame me, and I was compelled to stop at the house of man, whose name, as I afterwards learned, was Morgan. Here I stayed four days, and when I again called for my horse, the neighbours, as before, began to gather round me, and each to give me something. One gave me some bread in a bag, another tied a young pig behind my saddle, and among them all they furnished me with a good outfit of provisions, and some money. I wished to return to Detroit, but as I was still very weak, Mr. Morgan accompanied me to Cincinnati. I had found that it made me sick to sleep in a house, and on this journey I constantly refused to do so. Mr. Morgan would sleep in the houses where we stopped at night, but I chose a good place outside, where I lay down and slept, and I found the advantage of doing so, by the partial recovery of my health. After Mr. Morgan returned from Cincinnati, I travelled on alone, and was before long destitute of provisions. About this time, an old man who was standing by the door of his house when he saw me, called out stop! come! I could understand no more than these two words, but I knew from the expression of his countenance, and his manner, that his design was friendly, and accordingly went into his yard. He took my horse and gave him plenty of corn, and I accompanied him into the house, where, though they placed food before me, I could not eat. Seeing this, he gave me some nuts, a few of which I ate. When he saw that my horse had eaten, and I was impatient to start, he put on the saddle, and brought the horse. I offered him money, but he would not take it.

A day or two afterwards I stopped at a house where I saw a great quantity of corn lying in the yard. My horse was very hungry, therefore I got down, and taking a dollar out of my pocket, I handed it to the man who stood there, and then I counted ten ears of corn, and took them and laid them before my horse. I could not make the people comprehend that I was hungry; at least they seemed determined not to understand me. I went into the house, and the woman looked displeased; but seeing there part of a loaf of corn bread, I pointed first to it, next to my mouth; but as she appeared not to understand my meaning, I took it in my hand and raised it to my mouth, as if I would eat it. Seeing this, she called to the man outside, and he coming in, took the bread from me, pushed me violently out of the house, then went and took the corn from my horse, and motioned to me to be gone. I came next to a large brick house, and hoping I might meet gentler treatment, I determined to try here. But as I was riding up, a very fat man came out and spoke to me in a loud and harsh tone of voice. Though I could not understand his words, his meaning, which I thought was very evident, was, as I supposed, to forbid my entering the yard. I was willing to pass on, and was about to do so, when he ran out and caught my horse by the bridle. He said much to me, of which I understood little or nothing. I thought I could comprehend that he was cursing me for an Indian. He took hold of my gun, and tried to wrench it out of my hand. I have since understood that he kept a tavern, and was a magistrate; but at that time I was sick, and hungry, and irritable, and when I found that he wanted to take my gun from me, I became angry; and having in my hand a hickory stick about as large as my thumb and three or four feet long, I struck him over the head with it, so hearty a blow that he immediately quitted his hold on my gun, and I rode off. Two young men, whose horses were standing by this house, and who appeared to me to be travellers, soon overtook me, and we rode on together.

This journey was a painful and unpleasant one to me. I travelled on, from day to day, weak, dispirited, and alone, meeting with little sympathy or attention from the people among whom I passed, often suffering from hunger and from sickness. I was willing to sleep in the woods, as I constantly did; but it was not easy to kill any game, nor did the state of my health allow me to go far from the road to hunt. I had ascended nearly to the head of the Big Miami, when one night, after having offered a dollar to a farmer, and been driven away without refreshment for myself or my horse, I lay down in the woods near by, and after I supposed them to be asleep, I took as much corn as was sufficient to feed my horse. I had, some time in the course of the preceding day, bought a chicken for twenty-five cents, a part of which I now ate, and the next day I began to feel a little stronger. I had now arrived where the intervals between the settlements were very wide, and seeing a gang of hogs in the woods, I shot one, skinned him, and hung the meat on my saddle, so that I was, for some time, well supplied with provisions. At the forks of the Miami of Lake Erie was a trader with whom I was well acquainted, and who spoke Ottawwaw as well as I did; but when I asked him for something for my horse, he told me to begone, as he would give me nothing, though he offered to sell me some corn for my bear meat, as he called the pork I had hanging at my saddle; but I disliked him, and therefore went across the river to sleep in the woods.

This night I was again taken very sick, and when in the morning I found that my horse had escaped and gone back, I was scarce able to follow him. When I arrived at the river opposite the trader’s house, I saw the horse standing on the other side, and calling to the trader, I asked him to send or bring the horse over to me, as I was sick. When he replied that he would not, I asked him to bring me a canoe, as being sick myself, I did not wish to go into the water; but this he refused to do, and I was compelled to swim across. I took my horse and returned to my camp, but was too sick to travel farther that day.

On the day after I resumed my journey, and had the good fortune to come to a house where the woman treated me kindly. She fed my horse, and then offered me some salt pork; but as I could not eat this, I returned it to her. Then she brought me some fresh venison, and I took a shoulder of it. She made signs to me to sit down in the house; but as I preferred the woods, I declined her offer, and selected near by a pleasant place to encamp, and there cooked the meat she had given me. Before my supper was cooked, she sent a little boy to bring me some bread, and some fresh and sweet butter.

Next day my route was principally out of settlements. At the village of Ah-koo-nah-goo-zik, I would not stop, as I was already under sufficient obligation to him, and I thought he would again urge me to take his horse. I had arrived within about one hundred miles of Detroit when I was again taken very sick. Feeling wholly unable to travel, I determined to take some emetic tartar, which I had carried for a long time about me, having received it from Dr. M’Laughlin at Rainy Lake. Soon after I had taken it, rain began to fall, and as the weather was now somewhat cold, and I was unable to avoid getting wet, the cramp affected me very violently. After the rain had ceased, the creek near which I was encamped froze over, but as I was suffering under a most violent fever, I broke the ice, and plunged myself all over into the water. In this situation I remained for some time, totally unable to travel and almost without a hope of recovering. Two men passed me with the mail, one of whom could speak a little Indian; but they said they could do nothing for me, as they were compelled to proceed on their journey without loss of time.

But at length, I was again able to travel, and resumed my journey. I was two days’ journey from Detroit, when I met a man in the road with a Sioux pipe in his hand, whose strong resemblance to my father immediately arrested my attention. I endeavoured to make him stop and take notice of me, but he gave me a hasty look, and passed on. When I arrived, two days afterwards, at Detroit, I learned that this man was, as I supposed, my brother; but the governor would not allow me to return after him, as he knew that my having passed towards Detroit would be known at the Indian traders’ houses on the way, and that my brother, who would inquire at all of them, would very soon hear of me, and return. His opinion appeared to have been well founded, for about three days afterwards my brother arrived. He held me a long time in his arms; but on account of my ignorance of the English language, we were unable to speak to each other except through an interpreter. He next cut off my long hair, on which, till this time, I had worn strings of broaches, in the manner of the Indians. We visited Gov. Cass together, and he expressed much satisfaction at my having laid aside the Indian costume. But the dress of a white man was extremely uncomfortable to me, so that I was, from time to time, compelled to resume my old dress for the sake of convenience.

I endeavoured to persuade my brother, with whom I still conversed through an interpreter, to accompany me to my residence at the Lake of the Woods; but to this he would by no means consent, insisting that I must go with him to his house beyond the Mississippi, and we set off together accordingly. From the military commandant at Fort Wayne we received much friendly attention, and our journey was, in the main, a pleasant one. Forty days brought us to the Mississippi fifteen miles above New Madrid, where my brother resided. Another of my brothers lived near by, and they both accompanied me to Jackson, fifteen miles from Cape Girardeau, where two of my sisters were living. From this place we started, six or seven in number, to go to Kentucky; and crossing the Mississippi, a little above Cape Girardeau, we went by the way of Golconda, on the Ohio, to Kentucky where many of my relatives lived, not far from the small villages called Salem and Princeton.

My sister Lucy had, the night before my arrival, dreamed that she saw me coming through the corn field that surrounded her house. She had ten children. Relatives, friends, and neighbours, crowded around to witness my meeting with my sisters, and though we could converse together but little, they, and most of those who assembled about us, shed many tears. On the Sabbath day after my arrival, greater numbers than usual came to my sister’s house, and divine worship was performed there. My brother-in-law, Jeremiah Rukker, endeavoured to find in my father’s will some provision for me. He took me to the court at Princeton, and showed me to the people there; but nothing could be accomplished. My step-mother, who lived near by, gave me one hundred and thirty-seven dollars.

I went, accompanied by seven of my relatives, some men, some women, to Scottsville, where I had an uncle who had sent for me. Here the people collected and gave me one hundred dollars, and on my return, Col. Ewing, of Hopkinsville, raised, in about one hour that I remained with him, one hundred dollars more, which he gave me. This gentleman showed me very distinguished attention and kindness, and remains to this day a cordial and active friend to me.

From Hopkinsville I returned to the house of my step-mother, where I made my preparations to go to the Lake of the Woods. Part of my relatives, who had accompanied me from beyond the Mississippi, had returned to their own homes; but my brother and his wife stayed to travel with me. From my brother Edward’s house near New Madrid, I went again to Jackson where I was again taken sick. My stock of money had now increased through the voluntary donations of those friendly and charitable people among whom I had passed, to five hundred dollars, and, this being all in silver, would, my brother thought, be the means of exposing me to danger, and bringing me into difficulty, should I travel by myself. He, therefore, refused to leave me.

From Jackson we went together to St. Louis, where we saw Gov. Clark, who had already given much assistance to my brother in his journeys in search of me. He received us with great kindness, and offered us whatever assistance we might think necessary in accomplishing the object I now had in view, which was to bring my family from the Indian country. My brother wished to accompany me, and to take a considerable number of men, to aid, if it should be necessary, in taking my children from the Indians; but I went one day to Gov. Clark, by myself, and told him he must not listen to my brother, who knew little of the country I was going to visit, or of what was needful to my success in the attempt to bring out my family. In truth, I did not wish my brother, or any other white man, to accompany me, as I knew he could not submit to all the hardships of the journey, and live as I should be compelled to live, in an Indian lodge all winter. Furthermore, I was aware that he would be rather an incumbrance than any help to me. Gov. Clark wished to send me to the Lake of the Woods by way of the Upper Mississippi, but I was not willing to go that way, on account of the Sioux, through whose country I must pass. He gave me a Mackinac boat, large enough to carry sixty men, with a sufficient crew, three barrels of flour, two of hard bread, guns, tents, axes, etc. etc. Having prevailed on my brother to return, I set off. The current of the Mississippi below the Missouri, soon convinced me that my large and heavy boat was not well adapted to the nature of my undertaking, and at Portage De Sioux I left it.

From this place I proceeded in a small canoe, with two men, to the head of the Illinois River, thence to Chikago.

I had a letter from Gov. Clark to Mr. M’Kenzie, the Indian agent at that place, and as there was no vessel about to sail for Mackinac, he fitted out a bark canoe with a crew of Indians to take me on my journey; but the Indians stopped to drink several days, and, in the mean time a vessel arrived in which I sailed on her return. I had waited ten days at Mackinac when Capt. Knapp of the revenue cutter offered me a passage to Drummond’s Island. Here Dr. Mitchell, and the Indian agent, Col. Anderson, treated me in a very friendly manner, until the latter had an opportunity to send me to the Saut De St. Marie.

At the Saut I remained two or three months, as Col. Dickson, who was there, would not allow me to go up Lake Superior in the North West Company’s vessel, which went and returned three times while I was detained waiting for him. At last he was ready to start, and I went on board his boat. We were no sooner out from shore, than he handed me an oar, and though my health was very poor, he compelled me to row as long as I was able to set up. Being at last quite disabled, he left me on shore at a spot twenty miles above Fort William, where we found Mr. Giarson, who was there to take care of some property for the Hudson’s Bay people. I was much dissatisfied with the treatment I received from Col. Dickson, and at parting I told him that notwithstanding he left me so far from the end of my journey, I would still reach Me-naw-zhe-tau-naung before him. All my baggage I left in the care of Mr. Giarson, and went on in a small canoe with one old Frenchman whom I hired, and having good luck to cross the lake, I arrived before him.

My family were all well. Next day some one told me that the red headed Englishman, as they called Col. Dickson, was coming up to my lodge. I told him, without going out, that he need not come in. “You find me here in my lodge,” said I, “though you abandoned me on the lake shore, when very far from my home, or from any place where I could have expected to find help; but my lodge is not fit for such as you, therefore I hope you will not come in.” I knew he wished to ask me for something to eat, but I was determined not to see him, or give him any thing. He left our village, and went by the Indians’ road to Red River, though, as the water was unusually low, we heard he had a journey of extreme difficulty, and had nearly perished of hunger. There was, on the way, an enclosed burying ground where one of my brother’s-in-law, a daughter of Oto-pun-ne-be, and others of my friends and acquaintances, had been buried. Many of these graves were well covered, but Col. Dickson broke down the pailings, and destroyed the little houses that had been raised over the graves, at which conduct the Indians were much offended. They threatened to take his life, and might have done so had an opportunity offered. He went to Pembinah, thence to Lake Traverse, and returned no more into the country of the Ojibbeways.

A few days after my arrival at Me-naw-zhe-tau-naung, one of my children sickened and died of the measles, a complaint at that time very fatal among the Indians. The others were subsequently attacked, but I now knew better how to take care of them, and no more died. Soon after this provisions became scarce, and I was, with Me-zhuk-ko-naun, making preparations for a medicine hunt. In my dream I saw the same young man I had before seen on similar occasions, come down in the usual manner and stand before me. He reproved me with more than usual harshness for my complaints, and because I cried for the child I had recently lost. “Henceforth,” said he, “you shall see me no more, and that which remains before you, of your path, shall be full of briers and thorns. It is on account of the many crimes, and the bad conduct of your wife, that all your coming days are to be filled with trouble. Nevertheless, as you have called me this time, I give you something to eat.” When he said this, I looked and saw before me many ducks covering the surface of the water, and in another place a sturgeon, in a third a reindeer. This dream was fulfilled, as usual, at least as much of it as related to my hunting and fishing.

As the winter came on, I went to Red River to hunt buffalo, and make dry meat, and early in the spring I started to come to the States. From my first wife I had parted ten years before the time I now speak of; but the urgency of the Indians, and, in part, the necessity of my situation, had compelled me to take another. By this woman I had three children; those by my former wife were not at present in the village. My wife refusing to accompany me, I took the three children and started without her. At Rainy Lake she overtook me, and agreed to accompany me to Mackinac.

On my way down, I was assisted by the North West Company. At Drummond’s Island I was disappointed of large presents given me when on my way to the Lake of the Woods, but which, as I did not then wish to take, were promised me on my return. The commanding officer who had shown me so much kindness, had been relieved by another of a very different character, one who seemed to find no satisfaction in doing any thing for any person connected with the Indians. This man refused to see me, or afford me any assistance. By the kindness, however, of Mr. Ermatinger of the Saut De St. Marie, I was enabled to reach Mackinac.

Col. Boyd, the Indian agent at that time at Mackinac, called me to him, and wished to hire me as a striker in his smith’s shop; but not liking the employment, I did not wish to remain. He gave me one hundred pounds of flour, the same quantity of pork, some whiskey, tobacco, etc. There were two vessels about to sail for Chikago, but neither of them would take me as a passenger, though I had money enough, and was willing to pay them. As I had no other alternative, I was compelled to purchase from the Indians a poor and old bark canoe, for which I gave sixty dollars, and I engaged three Frenchmen to accompany me, but Col. Boyd would not permit them to go. He gave me, however, a letter to Dr. Wolcott, who was now Indian agent at Chikago, and I started with only one man to assist me.

At the Ottawwaw settlement of Waw-gun-nuk-kiz-ze I stopped for a short time, and finding that my canoe was too frail and leaky to perform the voyage, I purchased another, a new one, for which I gave eighty dollars. Several of my acquaintances among the Ottawwaws determined to accompany me, and started accordingly, eight men in one canoe, and six in another, with some women. They went on with me until we arrived within one or two days’ journey of Chikago, when meeting other Indians with discouraging accounts of the state of the water in the Illinois, they left me and went back. My wife returned with them.

When I arrived at Chikago, I was sick of a fever, and my provisions being exhausted, I was in great distress. I went to Dr. Wolcott to present him the letter from Col. Boyd, the Indian agent at Mackinac, but he would not receive it, nor take any notice of me. He knew well who I was, as he had seen me when I passed Chikago before, and I could not tell why he refused me assistance. I had my tent set up at a little distance from his house, near a wild rice swamp, and for several days, though I was so much more unwell that I was scarce able to sit up five minutes at a time, I subsisted my children by shooting the black birds as they came and settled on the rice. When I was again able with the aid of two sticks to crawl to the house of Dr. Wolcott, I went to represent to him that my children were in danger of perishing of hunger, but he drove me harshly away. When I left his door, I shed some tears which it was not common for me to do, but I was rendered womanish by my sickness. Three or four times I fainted, and lay long by the road side on the way from his house to my tent. But my sufferings, and those of my children, were shortly afterwards relieved by a Frenchman, who had been to carry some boats across the Portage. His wife was an Ojibbeway woman, and commonly accompanied him when he went to take any boats across. Though his horses were now much worn out with the long journey from which he had returned, he agreed to take me and my canoe sixty miles, and if his horses could hold out, the whole one hundred and twenty, which was, at the present stage of water, the length of the Portage, for which I agreed to pay him agreeable to his demand, which I thought very moderate. He lent me, also, a young horse to ride as I was far too weak to think of walking, and he thought I could ride on horseback much more comfortably than in the cart with the canoe. Before we arrived at the end of the sixty miles, he was taken sick, and as there was now a little water in the river, I concluded to put my canoe in, and try to descend in it. His young horse, the night after I gave it up to him, was stolen by the Po-ta-wato-mies. He was seized with the bloody flux, but as he had a young man with him, I rendered him what assistance I could in starting, and let him go back. My Frenchman had deserted from me soon after I left Chikago, and I had now no person to assist me except an old Indian, called Gos-so-kwaw-waw, (the smoker.) We put the canoe in the water, but we could not get into it ourselves, only sometimes the children were put in, and we took them down, one walking at the bow, the other at the stern of the canoe. We had proceeded no more than three miles when I found that this method was likely to prove so laborious and slow that I thought best to engage a Po-ta-wato-mie, whom I met there, and who agreed for a blanket and a pair of leggins, to take my baggage and my children on his horses to the mouth of the An-num-mun-se Se-be, or Yellow Ochre River, a distance of sixty miles. The An-num-mun-ne comes from towards the Mississippi, and below it there is always, in the Illinois, water enough for canoes. I felt somewhat afraid to trust the Po-ta-wato-mie with my children, and the baggage, which contained some valuable property, but old Gos-so-kwaw-waw was of the opinion that he would prove honest. When he put the children on the horses, he said, “In three days I shall be at the mouth of the An-num-mun-ne River, and shall wait for you there.”

Without any further words, we parted, and the old Smoker and myself continued our laborious and difficult route along the bed of the Illinois. Most of the country on both sides the route from Chikago to the Yellow Ochre River, are prairie in which horses and carts can be driven without any difficulty. On our arrival at the place appointed, we found the Po-ta-wato-mie there, and all safe.

We now embarked every thing together in the canoe, and went down to Fort Clark which is on a narrow neck of land between two lakes, and is thence called by the Indians Ka-gah-gum-ming[*], (the isthmus.) Here I found some acquaintances, or rather those who claimed relationship in consequence of their having been in some measure connected with the family that I belonged to among the Indians. Here was a Taw-ga-we-nin-ne, a son of him that had been the husband of Net-no-kwa, and some of the relatives of one of my wives. One of these, an old woman, gave me a sack of Wiskobimmenuk, or that sort of corn which is plucked green, boiled, and then dried. Two or three miles beyond this, as I went on my way, I saw a man standing on the bank, who, as I came opposite to him, called out, “My friend, do you love venison?” When I told him I did, and had put my canoe in shore, he lifted a large and fat deer into it, saying, “Perhaps you will like to eat some of this, which I have just now killed.” He was going to turn away when I called him back, and though he refused any compensation for the deer, I gave him a little powder and shot, and some flints, for which he appeared very thankful.

About this time, when I was one day warm at work, I shot a crane and got into the water to take it up. Shortly after I felt somewhat unwell, but not reflecting on the cause of my illness, I went again into the water to get something I had shot, when immediately I fell down, and was unable to get up. My fever returned upon me with such violence that being in immediate expectation of death, I gave the Old Smoker directions to take my children to Governor Clark, who, I was confident, would assist them in reaching my relatives. But contrary to my expectation, I became gradually better, and after some days was able to go on my journey. We passed great numbers of Potawattomies, their lodges standing many together in almost every bend of the river. Some of them started out in their canoes occasionally, and accompanied me some distance on my way. One day a man came running from his lodge to the bank of the river, and asked me who I was. When I had told him, he inquired if my children could eat honey; and when I told him I believed they could, he sent two young men, each with a large wooden bowl full, which they brought wading into the water, and handed to me.

In this manner I descended the Illinois River, killing plenty of game, and having at all times enough to eat; my health, also, gradually improving, until I came to St. Louis. Here Governor Clark showed his wonted kindness, not only to me and my children, but to the Old Smoker who had been so serviceable to me in my journey. After giving the old man a handsome present, he provided for his return to his own country, and dismissed him. I was detained longer at St. Louis than I had wished, as new clothes were to be made for my children. Some of these not having been completed in time for me to take with me, the Governor sent them afterwards to Kentucky. From St. Louis, I went to Cape Guirardeau in my birch bark canoe, having a letter from Governor Clark to the Indian agent at that place.

At Cape Guirardeau, where I left my canoe, and where I remained but a very short time, I saw some of the gentlemen of Major Long’s party, then on their return from the Rocky Mountains. This was in the fall of the year 1820, and was about one year after my first arrival on the Ohio in 1819. From the time of my capture by Manito-o-geezhik and Gish-kaw-ko, just thirty years had elapsed before I started in the spring of 1819 from the Lake of the Woods. So that it must have been in the spring of the year 1789 that I was taken prisoner. I am now forty-seven years old.

Four months I remained with my sisters at Jackson, fifteen miles from Cape Guirardeau; then I went to Kentucky, and the next fall I returned to St. Louis, to see Governor Clark; but he was not at home, and as many people were then dying in St. Louis of fevers, I made but a short stay. On my way home, I fell sick of a violent fever at the Grand Prairie, which is eighty miles from the place where I had left my children. Fortunately I fell into the hands of a woman who treated me with much humanity and kindness, and I soon began to recover. I now heard that my children were dying with the fever which prevailed so generally throughout the country, and notwithstanding my own miserable and debilitated condition, I hastened home. Only one of my children died. The others though very sick, at last recovered. But I was not alone in this affliction. Seven died out of the circle of my near relatives with whom I then lived, and an alarming mortality prevailed throughout that part of the state.

On the ensuing spring an attempt was made to recover something for my benefit from the estate of my father; but my stepmother sent several of the negroes, which it was thought might fall to me, to the island of Cuba, where they were sold. This business is yet unsettled, and remains in the hands of the lawyers.

In the spring of 1822,I started to go again to the north, not finding that I was content among my friends in Kentucky. I went by the way of the Grand Prairie, and having given my canoe to my brother, I took horses, and putting my children on them, I came to St. Louis, thence by way of the Illinois, towards Chikago.

The Indian agent for Fort Clark lived at this time at a place called Elk Heart, some distance below. He, as well as most of the people on this route, had been kind, and had shown a disposition to assist me whenever I needed any thing. On this journey I stopped at Elk Heart, at the house of the agent, and though he was not himself at home, I had my horses fed, and was supplied with what refreshment I needed for myself and children, free of expense. On the following day, I met the agent on his way home from Fort Clark, and told him of the reception I had met at his house in his absence. He was glad to hear of this, and he told me that I should soon come to a bad river to cross; “but,” said he, “there is a boat now on this side, in which I have just crossed. The man to whom it belongs, lives on the other side. You must use the boat to cross, and then tell him to take it around to the other river, which is beyond his house, and help you to cross that, and I will pay him for his trouble.” We crossed accordingly, but my daughter Martha being now sick, we stopped all day near the house of the man to whom the canoe belonged. I had one very handsome horse which had been given me by my brother, and which this man said he was determined to have from me. He offered to buy it, but I told him the horse was necessary to my journey, and I could by no means part with it. Still he insisted, and said unless I would let him have the horse, I should not have his canoe to cross the other river. He cursed and abused me, but all the means he could use did not induce me to give up the horse. The canoe had been taken around to the river I had to cross for the use of some other person, and when I was ready to go I started, expecting to find it there. But on my way to the ferry, I met the man on horseback who said to me, “I have taken away the canoe, and you cannot cross.” Without regarding this, I went on, and when I arrived, I found the canoe was indeed gone, and that there were no logs, or other materials to make a raft. Fearing to endanger the children by swimming them across on the horse’s backs, I stood for some time in doubt what to do. At last I recollected, that if he had hid the canoe, as was most probably the case, his track would lead me to it. Then going back to the road a considerable distance from the river, I found his track coming into it. This I followed, until I found the canoe hid in thick bushes, about a mile below the ferry. Taking it up to the crossing place, I carried my children, and led the horses over; then giving the canoe a push into the stream, I said to it, “go, and stay where your master hides you.”

At Chikago, I was compelled to sell my horses for much less than their value to Captain Bradley and a Mr. Kenzie, who was then agent in place of Dr. Wolcott, as they told me I could not get them taken to Mackinac. One old horse which I left as being of little or no value, I afterwards received fifteen dollars for from some gentlemen who wished to make use of him, but who might have had him for nothing. When Captain Keith, in the schooner Jackson, arrived, he told me, on seeing the paper given me by Governor Clark, that he would have taken my horses to Mackinac for nothing; but it was now too late as they were sold.

A principal part of my design in returning to Mackinac was to engage myself to Col. Boyd, the Indian agent there, as an interpreter; he having very often expressed a wish that I should do so, whenever I had acquired such a knowledge of the English language as would qualify me to discharge the duties of that station. It was now, therefore, a disappointment to me, to be informed that I had come too late, an interpreter having recently been hired to fill the place. He informed me, however, that an agent to be stationed at the Saut De St. Marie would probably arrive in the steam boat which was expected immediately, and Col. Boyd thought I might obtain the situation of interpreter for him. When Mr. Schoolcraft, the gentleman expected, arrived at Mackinac, he readily accepted my proposal. But as he was to stay but an hour or two on the island, he directed me to make my preparations and follow him, allowing me four days after his arrival at the Saut before it was necessary for me to be there. I made my preparations accordingly, and was nearly ready to start when a letter came from Mr. Schoolcraft, stating that he had found an interpreter at the Saut, and therefore did not wish me to join him. I carried back to the traders the furniture and other articles which I had purchased with the expectation of residing at the Saut, and they willingly restored me my money.