Mythology of the Pecos Indians

MYTHOLOGY OF THE PECOS INDIANS

About the mythology of the Pecos Indians, aside from the Montezuma story and the sacred embers, the tale of the Great p. 126Snake ("la vívora grande") appears to be widely circulated.s positively asserted that the Pecos adored, and the Jemez and Taos still adore, an enormous rattlesnake, which they keep alive in some inaccessible and hidden mountain recess. It is even dimly hinted at that human sacrifices might be associated with this already sufficiently hideous cult. I give these facts as they were given to me, and shall not believe them until I am compelled. It has always been the natural tendency in everything which (like the idolatrous practices still existing among the pueblos, of which there is no doubt) we do not positively know, to make bad look worse and good better than it actually is. The prospect of securing a knowledge of it is, however, not very good. The Indians themselves appear to deny it, and are generally very reticent about their aboriginal beliefs.

I have previously mentioned that Ruiz had been called upon by the Indians of Pecos to do his duty by attending to the sacred fire for one year, and that he refused. The reason for his refusal appears to have been that there was a belief to the effect that any one who had ever attended to the embers would, if he left the tribe, die without fail, and he did not wish to expose himself to such a fate.

About the social organization of the Pecos Indians, it has not been possible, of course, to ascertain anything as yet. That they lived on the communal plan is plainly shown by the construction of their houses. That they were originally, at least, organized into clans or gentes, can be inferred; but here I must remark that it may be difficult to trace those clusters among the Rio Grande pueblos, on account of their weakness in numbers, and of the intermixture of the Tehua, Tanos,p. 127 and Queres stocks resulting from the convulsion of 1680. It may be possible, however, to find them at Jemez. They exist at Laguna and among the Moquis, according to Mr. Morgan, and I do not doubt but that Mr. Cushing, who is so thoroughly studying the Zuñi Indians, has by this time settled the question for that tribe. One fact, however, I consider to be ascertained; namely, that there were neither castes nor classes among the pueblos, therefore not at Pecos. At the head of their communal government were the usual three officers,—the gobernador, the capitan de la guerra, and the cacique. I am not quite clear yet as to the proper functions of each, except that the first two are both warriors ("ambos son guerreros," Ruiz); that the capitan has also the supervision of the lands of the tribe; and that the cacique is more or less a religious functionary. Mr. D. J. Miller states that the latter very seldom leaves the pueblo. It was therefore an unusual act when the cacique of Jemez came to Pecos in 1840, and I presume it was brought about through his connection with the holy fire. I asked Sr. Ruiz very distinctly as to whether these three officers were elective or not, and he promptly affirmed that they were ("son elegidos por el pueblo"). I then inquired if the sons succeeded to the fathers in office, and his reply was that there was no objection to their being elected thereto if they were qualified ("si son buenos"). This disposes of the question of heredity in office, rank, and title, and it is almost identical with the customs found by Alonzo de Zuevita among the Indians of Mexico in the middle of the sixteenth century. How the presumable "gentes" of the Pecos might have localized for dwelling in the great communal houses I am, of course, unable to conjecture.

In regard to their marriage customs, their mode of naming children, etc., I have not been able to gather much information as yet. The old marriage customs are supplanted byp. 128 those of the church. Still, they may be traced up eventually. Every Pecos Indian had, besides his Spanish name, an Indian name; and there is, according to Mr. Ritch, still a Pecos Indian at Jemez whose aboriginal appellation is "Huaja-toya" (Spanish pronunciation). I heard of him this morning (Sept. 17) through an Indian of Jemez. What I know of their burials is already stated.

Of their agriculture, or rather horticulture, I have also spoken; the modes of cultivation have not been explained to me as yet. Irrigation is therefore the only part of their tillage system upon which I have been able to gather any information. In addition to what the preceding pages may contain, Sr. Vigil has assured me that they also irrigated their huerta from thearroyo. This thin fillet of clear water, now scarcely 0.50 m.—20 in.—in width, fills at times its entire gravelly bed, 100 m. to 150 m.—327 ft. to 490 ft.—from bank to bank. This does not occur annually, but at irregular intervals. Sr. Ruiz said that while the Pecos Indians were living at their pueblo the streams were filled with water ("en ese tiempo, corrieron los arroyos con agua, muy abundante"). It is further said that the tribe worked other "gardens" besides, on the banks of the river Pecos, two miles to the east.

For their arts and industry I must refer to the collections, however meagre and unsatisfactory they are; a condition for which I have already apologized. Nowhere did I find a trace of iron nor of copper, although they used the latter for ornaments (bracelets, etc.), and there can be no doubt that they had the former metal also,—after the Spanish conquest, of course. The squaring of timbers, the scroll-work and friezes in the church, could only be done with instruments of iron. But all traces of these implements have disappeared from the ruins, as far as the surface is concerned. I canp. 129not refrain, however, from dwelling at greater length upon two products of industry, so common among the ruins as hardly to attract the attention of curiosity-hunters any more. These are the flakes of obsidian and lava and the painted pottery.

I have called these flakes a product of industry; while the material itself is of course a mineral, the fragments scattered about are undoubted products of skill. They are chips and splinters. There is neither lava nor obsidian cropping out in or about the valley, but highly volcanic formations are abundantly found to the north, within fifty miles from Pecos, in the high Sierra de Mora; perhaps, also, nearer yet. At all events, the mineral has been brought to the pueblo and chipped there. The same is the case with the flint flakes, agates, jaspers, and moss-agates, with the difference, however, that, in the case of these, water has done a great part of the carrying, if not all; whereas the drift of the arroyo contains no obsidian nor lava, except such as has clearly been washed into it from the ruins. Among the flakes there will be noticed several which may have been used for knives, whereas still others approximate to the arrow-head. A small perfect arrow-head was found and transmitted by me to the Institute,—the only one I met with on the premises.

The fact that several localities at Pecos are completely devoid of obsidian has already been mentioned. These arep. 130 the oldest ruins. In the case of the ruins along the mesa and those south of the church, I can only speak of the surface; but where the corrugated pottery was found the whole section of the bluff was exposed for more than 100 m.—327 ft.,—and still not a trace of the mineral appeared, while flint, agate, and jasper were rather conspicuous. This may be accidental, but it is certainly suspicious and suggestive.

The painted pottery is scattered in wagon-loads of fragments over the ruins. There are two places, however, where, as already stated, the surface is utterly devoid of them. Whether or not this deficiency extends to the soil, I cannot tell. I doubt it, however. These localities are, again, the apron along the mesa and the ruins south of the church. For the rest, it is very equally distributed everywhere. Still there are two distinct kinds at least. One is exactly similar to the kind now made and sold: it is coarse, soft; the ground is painted gray or yellow; the ornaments show, in few instances, traces of animal shapes (they are either black or brown); and the vessels must have been thick, and with a thicker coarse rim. Out of the grave in the mound V, the pottery was more perfect. There are pieces of a tinaja (bowl) with a vertical rim, yellow outside, white inside, with black geometrical ornamentation, not vitrified. This kind of pottery is still made by the Indians of Nambé, of Tezuque, and of Cochiti. (The former two are Tehuas, the latter is Queres.) But there I also found fragments of a plain black pottery, of dark red, and of dark red with black ornaments, which are thinner and much superior in "ring," and therefore in quality, to any now made. This pottery is older in date, and appears to be almost a lost art. There was, however, no distinction in distribution. Both kinds have one point in common, namely, the varnishing of thep. 131 ornamental surfaces. I say varnishing, and not "glazing;" for, although I believe the glassy appearance of the painted lines to be due to some admixture of the coloring material, and not to a separate glossy exterior coating, I do not as yet find a reason for admitting that the Indians knew the process of vitrification.

Of the military manufactures of the Pecos, a small arrow-head of obsidian found near the church is the only trace. It is even too small for a war-arrow. They had stone hatchets, and may have had the dart, and, later on, the spear. Pebbles convenient for hurling are promiscuously observed on the mesilla, but they are not numerous; and nowhere along the circumvallation did I notice any trace of heaps. The military constructions, however, become very interesting through their connection with the system of drainage and a comparison with the ancient Mexicans. Around the ancient pueblo of Mexico ("Tenuchtitlan") the water formed the protective circumvallation; at Pecos, the defensive wall collected the water and conducted it where it was needed for subsistence for the irrigation of crops.

That this great circumvallation, 983 m.—3,225 ft.—in circuit, was a wall for protection also there is no doubt, although the main strength of the pueblo lay in the construction of its houses, where the inhabitants could simply shut themselves in and await quietly until the enemy was tired of prowling around it. By Indians it could only be carried by surprise or treachery Hence it was customary for the young men to leave thep. 132 pueblo at times in a body, abandoning it to the old men and women, etc., without concern. As long as these kept good watch they were safe, even if the Comanches should appear. Roaming Indians cannot break open a pueblo house if well guarded. For that purpose alone the mounds near the great gate, and the mound H,., were erected. They were watch-towers for special purposes, for particular sections, where the lookouts from the wall-tops were not sufficient. These two mounds—one on each side of the gateway—overlooked the fields and the creek-bank: in the morning, when the people went out to work, or to carry drinking water from the spring opposite; during the day, while they attended to their simple labor of tillage.

The mound and tower H performed a similar office towards the steep ledge of rocks there descending, among whose fragments Indians could hide for hours from the scouts on the house tops. Thus the great enclosure with its details served a triple purpose. It was the reservoir which held and conducted the waters precipitated on the mesilla to the useful purpose of irrigation. It was a preliminary defensive line,—a first obstruction to a storming foe, and a shelter for its defenders. But it was also in places an admirable post of observation. It formed the necessary complement to the houses themselves,]and both together composed a system of defences which, inadequate against the military science of civilization,p. 133 was still wonderfully adapted for protection against the stealthy, lurking approach, the impetuous but "short-winded" dash, of Indian warfare.

In conclusion of this lengthy report, I may be permitted to add a few lines concerning the great houses themselves. Their mode and manner of construction and occupation I have already discussed; it is their abandonment and decay to which I wish to refer. This decay is the same in both houses; the path of ruin from S.S.E. to N.N.W. indicates its progress. It shows clearly that, as section after section had been originally added as the tribe increased in number, so cell after cell (or section after section) was successively vacated and left to ruin as their numbers waned, till at last the northern end of the building alone sheltered the poor survivors. They receded from south to north; for the church, despoiled and partly destroyed in 1680, was no protection to them. Its own ruin kept pace with that of the tribe. The northern extremity of the pueblo was their best stronghold, and thither they retired step by step in the face of inevitable doom.

A. F. Bandelier.

Santa Fé, Sept. 17, 1880.

To Professor C. E. Norton, President of the Archæological Institute of America, Cambridge, Mass.

About Chief Pontiac's Conspiracy

About Chief Pontiac's Conspiracy

The fall of Montreal, on September 8, 1760, while the plains about the city were still dotted with the white tents of the victorious English and colonial troops, was indeed an event of the deepest consequence to America and to the world. By the articles of capitulation which were signed by the Marquis de Vaudreuil, Governor of New France, Canada and all its dependencies westward to the Mississippi passed to the British Crown. Virtually ended was the long struggle for the dominion of the New World. Open now for English occupation and settlement was that vast country lying south of the Great Lakes between the Ohio and the Mississippi—which we know as the Old Northwest—today the seat of five great commonwealths of the United States.

With an ingenuity born of necessity, the French pathfinders and colonizers of the Old Northwest had chosen for their settlements sites which would serve at once the purposes of the priest, the trader, and the soldier; and with scarcely an exception these sites are as important today as when they were first selected. Four regions, chiefly, were still occupied by the French at the time of the capitulation of Montreal. The most important, as well as the most distant, of these regions was on the east bank of the Mississippi, opposite and below the present city of St. Louis, where a cluster of missions, forts, and trading-posts held the center of the tenuous line extending from Canada to Louisiana. A second was the Illinois country, centering about the citadel of St. Louis which La Salle had erected in 1682 on the summit of "Starved Rock," near the modern town of Ottawa in Illinois. A third was the valley of the Wabash, where in the early years of the eighteenth century Vincennes had become the seat of a colony commanding both the Wabash and the lower Ohio. And the fourth was the western end of Lake Erie, where Detroit, founded by the doughty Cadillac in 1701, had assumed such strength that for fifty years it had discouraged the ambitions of the English to make the Northwest theirs.

Sir Jeffrey Amherst, to whom Vaudreuil surrendered in 1760, forthwith dispatched to the western country a military force to take possession of the posts still remaining in the hands of the French. The mission was entrusted to a stalwart New Hampshire Scotch-Irishman, Major Robert Rogers, who as leader of a band of intrepid "rangers" had made himself the hero of the northern frontier. Two hundred men were chosen for the undertaking, and on the 13th of September the party, in fifteen whaleboats, started up the St. Lawrence for Detroit.

At the mouth of the Cuyahoga River, near the site of the present city of Cleveland, the travelers were halted by a band of Indian chiefs and warriors who, in the name of their great ruler Pontiac, demanded to know the object of their journeying. Parleys followed, in which Pontiac himself took part, and it was explained that the French had surrendered Canada to the English and that the English merely proposed to assume control of the western posts, with a view to friendly relations between the red men and the white men. The rivers, it was promised, would flow with rum, and presents from the great King would be forthcoming in endless profusion. The explanation seemed to satisfy the savages, and, after smoking the calumet with due ceremony, the chieftain and his followers withdrew.

Late in November, Rogers and his men in their whaleboats appeared before the little palisaded town of Detroit. They found the French commander, Beletre, in surly humor and seeking to stir up the neighboring Wyandots and Potawatomi against them. But the attempt failed, and there was nothing for Beletre to do but yield. The French soldiery marched out of the fort, laid down their arms, and were sent off as prisoners down the river. The fleur-de-lis, which for more than half a century had floated over the village, was hauled down, and, to the accompaniment of cheers, the British ensign was run up. The red men looked on with amazement at this display of English authority and marveled how the conquerors forbore to slay their vanquished enemies on the spot.

Detroit in 1760 was a picturesque, lively, and rapidly growing frontier town. The central portions of the settlement, lying within the bounds of the present city, contained ninety or a hundred small houses, chiefly of wood and roofed with bark or thatch. A well-built range of barracks afforded quarters for the soldiery, and there were two public buildings—a council house and a little church. The whole was surrounded by a square palisade twenty-five feet high, with a wooden bastion at each corner and a blockhouse over each gateway. A broad passageway, the chemin du ronde, lay next to the palisade, and on little narrow streets at the center the houses were grouped closely together.

Above and below the fort the banks of the river were lined on both sides, for a distance of eight or nine miles, with little rectangular farms, so laid out as to give each a water-landing. On each farm was a cottage, with a garden and orchard, surrounded by a fence of rounded pickets; and the countryside rang with the shouts and laughter of a prosperous and happy peasantry. Within the limits of the settlement were villages of Ottawas, Potawatomi, and Wyandots, with whose inhabitants the French lived on free and easy terms. "The joyous sparkling of the bright blue water," writes Parkman; "the green luxuriance of the woods; the white dwellings, looking out from the foliage; and in the distance the Indian wigwams curling their smoke against the sky—all were mingled in one broad scene of wild and rural beauty."

At the coming of the English the French residents were given an opportunity to withdraw. Few, however, did so, and from the gossipy correspondence of the pleasure-loving Colonel Campbell, who for some months was left in command of the fort, it appears that the life of the place lost none of its gayety by the change of masters. Sunday card parties at the quarters of the commandant were festive affairs; and at a ball held in celebration of the King's birthday the ladies presented an appearance so splendid as to call forth from the impressionable officer the most extravagant praises. A visit in the summer of 1761 from Sir William Johnson, general supervisor of Indian affairs on the frontier, became the greatest social event in the history of the settlement, if not of the entire West. Colonel Campbell gave a ball at which the guests danced nine hours. Sir William reciprocated with one at which they danced eleven hours. A round of dinners and calls gave opportunity for much display of frontier magnificence, as well as for the consumption of astonishing quantities of wines and cordials. Hundreds of Indians were interested spectators, and the gifts with which they were generously showered were received with evidences of deep satisfaction.

No amount of fiddling and dancing, however, could quite drown apprehension concerning the safety of the post and the security of the English hold upon the great region over which this fort and its distant neighbors stood sentinel. Thousands of square miles of territory were committed to the keeping of not more than six hundred soldiers. From the French there was little danger. But from the Indians anything might be expected. Apart from the Iroquois, the red men had been bound to the French by many ties of friendship and common interest, and in the late war they had scalped and slaughtered and burned unhesitatingly at the French command. Hardly, indeed, had the transfer of territorial sovereignty been made before murmurs of discontent began to be heard.

Notwithstanding outward expressions of assent to the new order of things, a deep-rooted dislike on the part of the Indians for the English grew after 1760 with great rapidity. They sorely missed the gifts and supplies lavishly provided by the French, and they warmly resented the rapacity and arrogance of the British traders. The open contempt of the soldiery at the posts galled the Indians, and the confiscation of their lands drove them to desperation. In their hearts hope never died that the French would regain their lost dominion; and again and again rumors were set afloat that this was about to happen. The belief in such a reconquest was adroitly encouraged, too, by the surviving French settlers and traders. In 1761 the tension among the Indians was increased by the appearance of a "prophet" among the Delawares, calling on all his race to purge itself of foreign influences and to unite to drive the white man from the land.

Protests against English encroachments were frequent and, though respectful, none the less emphatic. At a conference in Philadelphia in 1761, an Iroquois sachem declared, "We, your Brethren, of the several Nations, are penned up like Hoggs. There are Forts all around us, and therefore we are apprehensive that Death is coming upon us." "We are now left in Peace," ran a petition of some Christian Oneidas addressed to Sir William Johnson, "and have nothing to do but to plant our Corn, Hunt the wild Beasts, smoke our Pipes, and mind Religion. But as these Forts, which are built among us, disturb our Peace, and are a great hurt to Religion, because some of our Warriors are foolish, and some of our Brother Soldiers don't fear God, we therefore desire that these Forts may be pull'd down, and kick'd out of the way."

The leadership of the great revolt that was impending fell naturally upon Pontiac, who, since the coming of the English, had established himself with his squaws and children on a wooded island in Lake St. Clair, barely out of view of the fortifications of Detroit. In all Indian annals no name is more illustrious than Pontiac's; no figure more forcefully displays the good and bad qualities of his race. Principal chief of the Ottawa tribe, he was also by 1763 the head of a powerful confederation of Ottawas, Ojibwas, and Potawatomi, and a leader known and respected among Algonquin peoples from the sources of the Ohio to the Mississippi. While capable of acts of magnanimity, he had an ambition of Napoleonic proportions, and to attain his ends he was prepared to use any means. More clearly than most of his forest contemporaries, he perceived that in the life of the Indian people a crisis had come. He saw that, unless the tide of English invasion was rolled back at once, all would be lost. The colonial farmers would push in after the soldiers; the forests would be cut away; the hunting-grounds would be destroyed; the native population would be driven away or enslaved. In the silence of his wigwam he thought out a plan of action, and by the closing weeks of 1762 he was ready. Never was plot more shrewdly devised and more artfully carried out.

During the winter of 1762-63 his messengers passed stealthily from nation to nation throughout the whole western country, bearing the pictured wampum belts and the reddened tomahawks which symbolized war; and in April, 1763, the Lake tribes were summoned to a great council on the banks of the Ecorces, below Detroit, where Pontiac in person proclaimed the will of the Master of Life as revealed to the Delaware prophet, and then announced the details of his plan. Everywhere the appeal met with approval; and not only the scores of Algonquin peoples, but also the Seneca branch of the Iroquois confederacy and a number of tribes on the lower Mississippi, pledged themselves with all solemnity to fulfill their prophet's injunction "to drive the dogs which wear red clothing into the sea." While keen-eyed warriors sought to keep up appearances by lounging about the forts and begging in their customary manner for tobacco, whiskey, and gunpowder, every wigwam and forest hamlet from Niagara to the Mississippi was astir. Dusky maidens chanted the tribal war-songs, and in the blaze of a hundred camp-fires chiefs and warriors performed the savage pantomime of battle.

A simultaneous attack, timed by a change of the moon, was to be made on the English forts and settlements throughout all the western country. Every tribe was to fall upon the settlement nearest at hand, and afterwards all were to combine—with French aid, it was confidently believed—in an assault on the seats of English power farther east. The honor of destroying the most important of the English strongholds, Detroit, was reserved for Pontiac himself.

The date fixed for the rising was the 7th of May. Six days in advance Pontiac with forty of his warriors appeared at the fort, protested undying friendship for the Great Father across the water, and insisted on performing the calumet dance before the new commandant, Major Gladwyn. This aroused no suspicion. But four days later a French settler reported that his wife, when visiting the Ottawa village to buy venison, had observed the men busily filing off the ends of their gunbarrels; and the blacksmith at the post recalled the fact that the Indians had lately sought to borrow files and saws without being able to give a plausible explanation of the use they intended to make of the implements.

The English traveler Jonathan Carver, who visited the post five years afterwards, relates that an Ottawa girl with whom Major Gladwyn had formed an attachment betrayed the plot. Though this story is of doubtful authenticity, there is no doubt that, in one way or another, the commandant was amply warned that treachery was in the air. The sounds of revelry from the Indian camps, the furtive glances of the redskins lounging about the settlement, the very tension of the atmosphere, would have been enough to put an experienced Indian fighter on his guard.

Accordingly when, on the fated morning, Pontiac and sixty redskins, carrying under long blankets their shortened muskets, appeared before the fort and asked admission, they were taken aback to find the whole garrison under arms. On their way from the gate to the council house they were obliged to march literally between rows of glittering steel. Well might even Pontiac falter. With uneasy glances, the party crowded into the council room, where Gladwyn and his officers sat waiting. "Why," asked the chieftain stolidly, "do I see so many of my father's young men standing in the street with their guns?" "To keep them in training," was the laconic reply.

The scene that was planned was then carried out, except in one vital particular. When, in the course of his speech professing strong attachment to the English, the chieftain came to the point where he was to give the signal for slaughter by holding forth the wampum belt of peace inverted, he presented the emblem—to the accompaniment of a significant clash of arms and roll of drums from the mustered garrison outside—in the normal manner; and after a solemn warning from the commandant that vengeance would follow any act of aggression, the council broke up. To the forest leader's equivocal announcement that he would bring all of his wives and children in a few days to shake hands with their English fathers, Gladwyn deigned no reply.

Balked in his plans, the chief retired, but only to meditate fresh treachery; and when, a few days later, with a multitude of followers, he sought admission to the fort to assure "his fathers" that "evil birds had sung lies in their ears," and was refused, he called all his forces to arms, threw off his disguises, and began hostilities. For six months the settlement was besieged with a persistence rarely displayed in Indian warfare. At first the French inhabitants encouraged the besiegers, but, after it became known that a final peace between England and France had been concluded, they withheld further aid. Throughout the whole period, the English obtained supplies with no great difficulty from the neighboring farms. There was little actual fighting, and the loss of life was insignificant.

By order of General Amherst, the French commander still in charge of Fort Chartres sent a messenger to inform the redskins definitely that no assistance from France would be forthcoming. "Forget then, my dear children,"—so ran the admonition—"all evil talks. Leave off from spilling the blood of your brethren, the English. Our hearts are now but one; you cannot, at present, strike the one without having the other for an enemy also." The effect was, as intended, to break the spirit of the besiegers; and in October Pontiac humbly sued for peace.

Meanwhile a reign of terror spread over the entire frontier. Settlements from Forts Le Boeuf and Venango, south of Lake Eric, to Green Bay, west of Lake Michigan, were attacked, and ruses similar to that attempted at Detroit were generally successful. A few Indians in friendly guise would approach a fort. After these were admitted, others would appear, as if quite by chance. Finally, when numbers were sufficient, the conspirators would draw their concealed weapons, strike down the garrison, and begin a general massacre of the helpless populace. Scores of pioneer families, scattered through the wilderness, were murdered and scalped; traders were waylaid in the forest solitudes; border towns were burned and plantations were devastated. In the Ohio Valley everything was lost except Fort Pitt, formerly Fort Duquesne; in the Northwest, everything was taken except Detroit.

Fort Pitt was repeatedly endangered, and the most important engagement of the war was fought in its defense. The relief of the post was entrusted in midsummer to a force of five hundred regulars lately transferred from the West Indies to Pennsylvania and placed under the command of Colonel Henry Bouquet. The expedition advanced with all possible caution, but early in August, 1763, when it was yet twenty-five miles from its destination, it was set upon by a formidable Indian band at Bushy Run and threatened with a fate not un-like that suffered by Braddock's little army in the same region nine years earlier. Finding the woods full of redskins and all retreat cut off, the troops, drawn up in a circle around their horses and supplies, fired with such effect as they could upon the shadowy forms in the forest. No water was obtainable, and in a few hours thirst began to make the soldiery unmanageable. Realizing that the situation was desperate, Bouquet resorted to a ruse by ordering his men to fall back as if in retreat. The trick succeeded, and with yells of victory the Indians rushed from cover to seize the coveted provisions—only to be met by a deadly fire and put to utter rout. The news of the battle of Bushy Run spread rapidly through the frontier regions and proved very effective in discouraging further hostilities.

It was Bouquet's intention to press forward at once from Fort Pitt into the disturbed Ohio country. His losses, however, compelled the postponement of this part of the undertaking until the following year. Before he started off again he built at Fort Pitt a blockhouse which still stands, and which has been preserved for posterity by becoming, in 1894, the property of the Pittsburgh chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. In October, 1764, he set out for the Muskingum valley with a force of fifteen hundred regulars, Pennsylvania and Virginia volunteers, and friendly Indians. By this time the great conspiracy was in collapse, and it was a matter of no great difficulty for Bouquet to enter into friendly relations with the successive tribes, to obtain treaties with them, and to procure the release of such English captives as were still in their hands. By the close of November, 1764, the work was complete, and Bouquet was back at Fort Pitt. Pennsylvania and Virginia honored him with votes of thanks; the King formally expressed his gratitude and tendered him the military governorship of the newly acquired territory of Florida.

The general pacification of the Northwest was accomplished by treaties with the natives in great councils held at Niagara, Presqu'isle (Erie), and Detroit. Pontiac had fled to the Maumee country to the west of Lake Erie, whence he still hurled his ineffectual threats at the "dogs in red." His power, however, was broken. The most he could do was to gather four hundred warriors on the Maumee and Illinois and present himself at Fort Chartres with a demand for weapons and ammunition with which to keep up the war. The French commander, who was now daily awaiting orders to turn the fortress over to the English, refused; and a deputation dispatched to New Orleans in quest of the desired equipment received no reply save that New Orleans itself, with all the country west of the river, had been ceded to Spain. The futility of further resistance on the part of Pontiac was apparent. In 1765 the disappointed chieftain gave pledges of friendship; and in the following year he and other leaders made a formal submission to Sir William Johnson at Oswego, and Pontiac renounced forever the bold design to make himself at a stroke lord of the West and deliverer of his country from English domination.

For three years the movements of this disappointed Indian leader are uncertain. Most of the time, apparently, he dwelt in the Maumee country, leading the existence of an ordinary warrior. Then, in the spring of 1769, he appeared at the settlements on the middle Mississippi. At the newly founded French town of St. Louis, on the Spanish side of the river, he visited an old friend, the commandant Saint Ange de Bellerive. Thence he crossed to Cahokia, where Indian and creole alike welcomed him and made him the central figure in a series of boisterous festivities.

An English trader in the village, observing jealously the honors that were paid the visitor, resolved that an old score should forthwith be evened up. A Kaskaskian redskin was bribed, with a barrel of liquor and with promises of further reward, to put the fallen leader out of the way; and the bargain was hardly sealed before the deed was done. Stealing upon his victim as he walked in the neighboring forest, the assassin buried a tomahawk in his brain, and "thus basely," in the words of Parkman, "perished the champion of a ruined race." Claimed by Saint-Ange, the body was borne across the river and buried with military honors near the new Fort St. Louis. The site of Pontiac's grave was soon forgotten, and today the people of a great city trample over and about it without heed.

About the Indians of the Northwest Coast

About the Indian Tribes Of The Northwest Coast.

A long and narrow strip of land stretches from Vancouver Island northward to Alaska. It is bounded on the east by the great mountains, on the west by the Pacific Ocean. Its coast line is irregular; narrow fiords run far into the land. The climate is generally temperate, but there is much rain. Dense forests of pine, cedar, hemlock, and maple cover the mountain slopes. Many kinds of berries grow there abundantly, supplying food for man. In the mountain forests are deer, elk, caribou; both black and grizzly bears are found; wolves are not uncommon. In the remoter mountains are mountain sheep and mountain goats. Beaver and otter swim in the fresh waters, while the seal, fur seal, sea-lion, and whale are found in the sea. In the waters are also many fish, such as halibut, cod, salmon, herring, and oolachen; shell-fish are abundant.

In this interesting land are many different tribes of Indians, speaking languages which in some cases are very unlike. Among the more important tribes or group of tribes, are the Tlingit, Haida, Tshimpshian, and Kwakiutl. While all these tribes are plainly Indians, there are many persons among them who are light-skinned and brown-haired. The hair is also at times quite wavy. The forms are good and the faces pleasing.

But these Indians are not always satisfied with the forms and faces nature gives them. They have various fashions which change their appearance. Among these is changing the shape of the head. Formerly the Chinooks, living near the Columbia River, changed the shape of all the baby boys' heads. The bones of the head in a little baby are soft and can be pressed out of shape. As the child grows older, the bones become harder and cannot be easily altered. The Chinooks made the little head wedge-shaped in a side view. This was done by a board, which was hinged to the cradle-board, and brought down upon the little boy's forehead. It forced the head to broaden in front and the forehead to slant sharply. After the pressure had been kept on for some months, the shape of the head was fixed for life. From the strange shape of their heads thus produced, the Chinooks were often called“Flat-heads.” On Vancouver Island the head of the Koskimo baby girl was forced by circular bandages wrapped around it to grow long and cylindrical.

Another fashion among the women of some tribes was the piercing of the lower lip for the wearing of a plug as an ornament. Thus, when a little girl among the Haida was twelve or thirteen years old, her aunt or grandmother took her to some quiet place along the seashore; there she pierced a little hole in the lower lip of the child, using a bit of sharp shell or stone. To keep the hole from closing when it healed, a bit of grass stalk was put into it. For a few days the place was sore, but it soon got well. The bit of stalk was then removed, and a little peg of wood put in. Later a larger peg or plug was inserted. When the girl had grown to be an old woman, she wore a large plug in her lower lip, which would hold it out flat almost like a shelf.

Many of the Northwest Coast tribes tattooed; generally the men were more marked with this than women. The patterns were usually animal figures, showing the man's family. The Haida were fond of having these queer pictures pricked into them. Upon their breasts they had the totem animal; on their arms other suitable patterns

The villages of these tribes are almost always on the seashore. The houses were generally in one long line, and all faced the sea. The houses of the different tribes differed somewhat. The house of the Haida was almost square, measuring perhaps forty or fifty feet on a side. In olden times they were sunk several feet into the ground. On entering the house the visitor found himself upon a platform several feet wide running around the four sides; from it he stepped down upon a second platform, and from it upon a central square of dirt which contained the fireplace. The eating place was around this hearth; the place for lounging, visiting, and sleeping was on the upper platform. There each person of the household had his or her own place. At its rear edge, near the wall, were boxes containing the person's treasures and the household's food. There was but one doorway and no windows in a Haida house. Outside the house, at the middle of the front, stood a curious, great, carved post of wood. These were covered with queer animal and bird 

The beach in front of the village used to be covered with canoes dragged up on the sand. These canoes were “dugouts” of single tree trunks. The logs were cut in summer time, the best wood being yellow cedar. The chief tool used was the adze, made of stone or shell. Fire was used to char the wood to be cut away. After it had been partly cut out inside it was stretched or shaped by steaming with water and hot stones, and then putting in stretchers. Sometimes single-log canoes were large enough to carry from thirty to sixty people. They were often carved and painted at the ends. The paddles used in driving these canoes were rather slender and long-bladed, often painted with designs.

The present dress of these Indians is largely the same as our own. In the days of the first voyagers, they wore beautiful garments of native manufacture. They had quantities of fine furs of seals and sea-otters. These were worn as blankets; when not in use they were carefully folded and laid away in boxes. They wore close and fine blankets of the wool of the mountain sheep and the hair of the mountain goat. These were closely woven and had a fine long fringe along the lower border. They were covered with patterns representing the totem animals. The blanket itself was a dirty white in color, but
the designs were worked in black, yellow, or brown. Further south, among the Tshimpshian Indians of British Columbia, fine blankets were woven of the soft and flexible inner bark of the cedar; these were bordered with strips of fur.

These Indians still wear the ancient hat. Among the southern tribes it is made of cedar bark, and is soft and flimsy. In the north it is made of spruce or other roots, and is firm and unyielding. The shape of the lower part of the hat is a truncated cone. Among the Tlingit and Haida this is surmounted by a curious, tall cylinder, which is divided into several joints, or segments, called skil. The number of these shows the importance of the wearer

The food of these tribes came largely from the sea. Fish were speared, trapped, and caught with hook and line. For halibut, queer, large, wooden hooks were used. When the fish had been drawn to the surface, they were killed with wooden clubs. Both hooks and clubs were curiously carved. Flesh of larger fishes, like halibut and salmon, was dried in the sun or over fire, and packed away. Clams were dried and strung on sticks. Seaweed was dried and pressed into great, square flat cakes; so were berries and scraped cedar bark. The people were fond of oil, and got it from many different fish. The most prized was that of the oolachen or candle-fish. This fish is so greasy that when put into a frying-pan, there is soon nothing left but some bones and scales floating about in the grease! To get this oil, the little fish were thrown into a canoe full of water. This was heated with stones made very hot in a fire, and then dropped into it. The heat drove out the oil, which floated on the top and was skimmed off and put into natural bottles—tubes of hollow seaweed stalk. At all meals a dish of oil stood in the midst of the party, and bits of dried fish, seaweed cake, or dried bark were dipped into it before being eaten.

The California Gold Rush Effect on Native American Populations

California Gold and the Native Americans

The report of the rich gold "diggin's" on the waters of the Tuolumne, Merced, Mariposa, Chowchilla, and Fresno Rivers, soon spread, and miners by thousands came and took possession of the whole country, paying no regard to the natural rights or wishes of the Indians.


Some of the Indian chiefs made the proposition that if the miners would give them some of the gold which they found in their part of the country, they might stay and work. This offer was not listened to by the miners, and a large majority of the white invaders treated the natives as though they had no rights whatever to be respected. In some instances, where Indians had found and were working good mining claims, they were forcibly driven away by white miners, who took possession of their claims and worked them.

Moreover, the Indians saw that their main sources of food supply were being rapidly destroyed. The oak trees, which produced the acorns—one of their staple articles of food,—were being cut down and burned by miners and others in clearing up land for cultivation, and the deer and other food game were being rapidly killed off or driven from the locality.

In the "early days," before California was admitted as a free State into the Union, it was reported, and was probably true, that some of the immigrants from the slave-holding States took Indians and made slaves of them in working their mining claims. It was no uncommon event for the sanctity of their homes and families to be invaded by some of the "baser sort," and young women taken, willing or not, for servants and wives.

RETALIATION.

In retaliation, and as some compensation for these many grievous outrages upon their natural inalienable rights of domain and property, and their native customs, the Indians stole horses and mules from the white settlers, and killed them for food for their families, who, in many instances, were in a condition of starvation.

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Historic Photo Gallery of the Arikara Indian Tribe

Historic Photo Gallery of the Arikara Indian Tribe

1909 photo of an Arikara Indian medicine man with 7 sacred pipes.

1908 photo of an Arikara Indian girl.

Arikara Indian girl photographed in 1888 in Mandan, North Dakota

Arikara Indian chief Sitting Bear photographed in the plains of North Dakota in 1908.

1926 photo of "Charges Alone."

Native American Aleut Indian Pictures

Native American Aleut Indian Pictures

Native American Aleut Indian Women Making Baskets

Aleut Indian Women Drying Fish in Alaska

 Aleut Indian House on Seal Island Alaska

Aleut Indian Girls in Attu Alaska Weaving Baskets

Native American Aleut Indian Hunters

Aleut Indian Fishermen

Aleut Eskimo Indian Children Photo

Aleut Eskimo Indian Woman Making Baskets

Seneca- Iroquois Indian Cooking

Seneca- Iroquois Indian Cooking

The simple culinary art required a kettle for meats and vegetables, (me or more wooden platters, and three or four hunting-knives to a household. Wild game was often spitted on a stick before the fire, and the loaf of pounded corn and beans was roasted in the ashes under the embers. The Indian woman's cookery offered few temptations to the white man's palate. Her loaf was kneaded with unwashed hands, in a bark tray none too tidy, and her meats were prepared without attention to the care which civilization demands. The Indian trail over Groveland hill ran near the foot of a long meadow of John Harrison's, where a fine spring of water often beguiled the natives to stop and cook their game. On one occasion they made a feast there of corn and venison boiled together. The deer were skinned, cut up and cast into the brass kettle, flesh, bones, entrails and all. Mr. Harrison, who was at work nearby, was urged by the Indians to partake of their pottage, but as he had seen it prepared, his appetite rebelled, and lie declined, with thanks. A pioneer, on another occasion, was invited to eat hominy with a strolling band of Senecas, who had already been some time at their meal. There was but one spoon to the party, and that had been used by each in turn. The chief took the spoon and, after wiping it upon the sole of his moccasin, passed it to the guest, who, though welcome, feasted with long teeth.

Alabama and Texas Native Americans, Coushatta Indian Tribe

Alabama Native Americans, Coushatta Indian Tribe

Alabama Indians-Coushatta-Tribal Leaders 

Coushatta Indian Woman from Alabama

Alabama-Texas-Native Americans-Coushatta

Alabama Native American Coushatta Tribe

Alabama Native Americans,  Alabama Coushatta Indians

Alabama and Texas, Native Americans Coushatta Indian, Ceremonial Headdress

Historic Description of a Seneca Iroquois Indian House

Historic Description of a Seneca Iroquois Indian House

To us the Indian's home would not have been a place of comfort. Its single room, noxious with smoke, and the members of the household lounging here and there upon the ground, admitted neither of neatness or privacy, nor of delicacy. On poles, well varnished with soot, in the upper portion of the hut, (if indeed the dusky atmosphere had permitted that part to be seen) might be noticed a motley collection of clothing, corn, skins of animals, and dried pumpkins and squashes, intermingled with weapons and ornaments. The huts were without windows, for the Indian knew little of the thousand nameless comforts which make our homes so graceful but, being unknown, were unmissed by him. The Seneca here passed his winters in contentment. His wants were few, his food was ample in quantity and, to him, palatable in kind ; and, if his hut was uncleanly, it may yet have been preferable to the abodes of squalor in which many of the vicious and wretched of our great cities pass their lives. The squaw, who had planted, hoed and harvested the corn, prepared it for the winter's meal and cheerfully served it to her not exacting husband. And he was a happy man. Though taci turn in public, he was not unsocial within his own domicil, where his neighbors often met to smoke his tobacco, laugh at his jest, not the most refined, and listen to his stories of war and the chase.

Seneca Indians Kill 300 Illinois Indians Along the Erie Shore

Seneca Indians Kill 300 Illinois Indians Along the Erie Shore

"The slaughter was immense. Vengeance nerved the arms of the Seneca braves, and of three hundred Illinois but two escaped. "



A striking story is told of a Seneca youth who for many years and through a wearisome captivity nourished the hope of vengeance so dear to the Indian soul. A certain tribe of the Senecas had settled on the shores of Lake Erie, when they were surprised by their ancient enemies the Illinois, and in spite of a stout resistance many of them were slain, and a woman and a boy taken prisoner. When the victors halted for the night they built a great fire, and proceeded to celebrate their success by singing triumphant songs, in which they commanded the boy to join them. The lad pretended that he did not know their language, but said that he would sing their song in his own tongue, to which they assented; but instead of a pæan in their praise he sang a song of vengeance, in which he vowed that if he were spared all of them would lose their scalps. A few days afterward the woman became so exhausted that she could walk no farther, so the Illinois slew her. But before she died she extracted a promise from the boy that he would avenge her, and would never cease to be a Seneca.

In a few days they arrived at the Illinois camp, where a council was held to consider the fate of the captive lad. Some were for instantly putting him to death, but their chief ruled that should he be able to live through their tortures he would be worthy of becoming an Illinois. They seized the wretched lad and held his bare feet to the glowing council-fire, then after piercing them they told him to run a race. He bounded forward, and ran so swiftly that he soon gained the Great House of the tribe, where he seated himself upon a wild-cat skin.

Another council was held, and the Illinois braves 
agreed that the lad possessed high courage and would make a great warrior; but others argued that he knew their war-path and might betray them, and it was finally decided that he should be burnt at the stake. As he was about to perish in this manner an aged warrior suggested that if he were able to withstand their last torture he should be permitted to live. Accordingly he held the unfortunate lad under water in a pool until only a spark of life remained in him, but he survived, and became an Illinois warrior.

Years passed, and the boy reached manhood and married a chief's daughter. His strength and endurance became proverbial, but the warriors of the tribe of his adoption would never permit him to take part in their warlike expeditions. At length a raid against the Senecas was mooted, and he begged so hard to be allowed to accompany the braves that at last they consented. Indeed, so great was their admiration of the skill with which he outlined a plan of campaign that they made him chief of the expedition. For many days the party marched toward the Seneca country; but when at last they neared it their scouts reported that there were no signs of the tribe, and that the Senecas must have quitted their territory. Their leader, however, proposed to go in search of the enemy himself, along with another warrior of the tribe, and this was agreed to.

When the pair had gone five or six miles the leader said to his companion that it would be better if they separated, as they would then be able to cover more ground. Passing on to where he knew he would find the Senecas, he warned them of their danger, and arranged that an ambush of his kinsfolk should lie in wait for the Illinois.

Returning to the Illinois camp, he reported that he had seen nothing, but that he well remembered the 
Seneca hiding-place. He asked to be given the bravest warriors, and assured the council that he would soon bring them the scalps of their foes. Suspecting nothing, they assented to his proposal, and he was followed by the flower of the Illinois tribe, all unaware that five hundred Senecas awaited them in the valley. The youth led his men right into the heart of the ambush; then, pretending to miss his footing, he fell. This was the signal for the Senecas to rise on every side. Yelling their war-cry, they rushed from their shelter and fell on the dismayed Illinois, who gave way on every side. The slaughter was immense. Vengeance nerved the arms of the Seneca braves, and of three hundred Illinois but two escaped. The leader of the expedition was borne in triumph to the Seneca village, where to listening hundreds he told the story of his capture and long-meditated revenge. He became a great chief among his people, and even to this day his name is uttered by them with honour and reverence.