Post by ladonna on Dec 12, 2012 16:04:59 GMT -5
A Month among the Indian Missions and Agencies on the Missouri River
Little Pheasant's Camp, While River.--We crossed the Missouri, nine miles below Crow Creek Agency, in an open wagon, with the water coming over the top of the box, and only the heads and backs of the mules visible. Two of our party crossed at a time, perched on the front seat. We landed on an island, and were thence ferried to the opposite shore in a boat pulled by soldiers, part of the guard stationed at the Sub-Agency. The Sub-Agency buildings and company quarters are built of logs and mud, and stand on the bank of the river. In the rear, covering the low bluffs, is Iron Nation's camp, of about 190 lodges. We are now in the edge of the Indian territory proper, the great Reservation set apart by the Treaty of 1868 for the tribes of Dakotas not otherwise provided for. It embraces all that portion of Dakota west of the Missouri, and south of the 46th parallel. The lands in this immediate vicinity are occupied by the Lower Bruits, of which, as before stated, there are two camps--Iron Nation's, near the Sub-Agency, and Little Pheasant's, at the mouth of the White River, twenty-three miles below. The latter chief has invited us to visit and counsel with him and his fellow-chiefs in regard to things necessary for the welfare of his people. Dr. Livingston, our Agent at Crow Creek (who has the care also of this tribe), accompanies us, as also Lieut. Reedy, in command of the garrison at the Sub-Agency, and his hospitable wife, and the Surgeon of the Post. The road to this camp lies through the timber along the Missouri for five miles, when we strike a spur of hills appropriately termed the "Bad Lands," jutting upon the river. Over these black and bald alkaline crests we have some rugged climbing. Occasionally we meet Indians, and once we encountered a painted warrior and his "squire," or a similar attendant, coming in either from a hunt or a war party (we surmised the latter), who demanded of us somewhat fiercely where all these palefaces were going! The Sub-Agency Interpreter, "Uncle Zeph," an old French trapper who has passed among the Sioux one-half the allotted age of man, explained our mission, but the savage stared at us incredulously. We had entered a region where even the talismanic names Hinmanee and Wapaha hota (or Grey Hat, Mr. Welsh's Indian designation) might not always insure courteous treatment.
At three o'clock on the afternoon of a very hot day we reached the sum mil of the hills overlooking Little Pheasant's camp. "Beautiful for situation" certainly--almost an Indian's paradise. The buffalo and the antelope have been chased far to the westward, however, and there is only the timber and the soil left, and the meandering White River, coming down from the region of the Black Hills, hundreds of miles away. On a tributary of this river, about two hundred miles from the Missouri, is Spotted Tail's tribe of Upper Brulés, and along the White River, in the summer season, hunting and fishing parties of wild Indians come and go. Little Pheasant's location is therefore an important one, being a sort of outlet to the tribes beyond, and as they are continually visiting his people, no better geographical site for a Mission establishment exists along the Missouri. Its advantages in other respects will be considered presently.
The camp lay spread out below us almost in the form of a hollow square. There were about two hundred lodges, or tepees, of white cloth, with here and there one of dressed buffalo hides. To the left, near the Missouri, was the planted field of fifty acres, with the corn well up, and tolerably free from weeds. A very fair fence surrounded it, the rails for which, the Indians told us, they had cut and packed on their backs from the river. The weeds were kept down with a few hoes, but chiefly by the hands and sharpened sticks. We were glad to hear that in preparing the ground the men had worked as well as the women. For an Indian warrior to labor like a squaw, and in the presence of his wild brethren from the plains, is a novel as well as a hopeful sight. The view of the camp was most picturesque. We were among full-blooded Sioux warriors and young men, just beginning to turn their thoughts to civilized modes of life, but by no means released from their barbarous customs, and still living in their primitive state. Ponies were grazing about the hills, guarded by the squaws; boys and girls were playing through the village (absorbed in a game identical, as we afterwards learned, with the "Shinny" played by white lads in our own cities), and an occasional "soldier" maintaining a sort of police over the camp, was seen moving lazily about. We received a courteous but quiet welcome at the lodge of the principal chief, and his wife and two daughters, both grown, prepared the tepee for our reception. In evident expectation of our coming, these two princesses, both of whom are exceedingly pretty, were arrayed in clean white robes, fastened around the waist with broad leather belts, studded with brass ornaments; with wide brass bands around the wrists and arms, and richly embroidered leggings and moccasins encasing the lower extremities. As fresh water was the first essential for our comfort, one of them picked up the five-gallon keg, and after adjusting it by its straps to her back and shoulders, marched off a mile to the river, with as much nonchalance as though she were going to a well in the yard. "Mrs." Little Pheasant kindled a fire and hung over it the camp-kettle, by a chain depending from a single stake bent over the fagots, while the second princess assisted her father in staking out our horses for the night.
While the ladies of our party were preparing our evening meal, and chiefs and head soldiers were dropping into our circle to exchange a friendly howl and the never-failing shake of the hand, a little incident occurred at an adjoining tepee illustrative of the domestic life of these people. A squaw, neatly attired (we at first thought it was in honor of our arrival), came frequently out of her lodge to look long and earnestly in the direction of the distant hills. Pretty soon we missed her, and at the end of an half-hour we saw her descending the slope in the rear of the camp leading her husband's pony loaded with venison and carrying his gun, while before her, in dignified silence but with tired steps, stalked her liege lord. Arriving at his tepee, the weary hunter entered without seeming to notice us, even by so much as a look of curiosity, and was soon stretched upon his couch of skins enjoying his pipe, while his wife, after unloading and unsaddling the pony and tethering him near the lodge, busied herself in preparing her husband's supper. The rites of hospitality were not forgotten by our taciturn neighbor, for he sent us some of his venison. The life of the camp drudge--the veritable hewer of wood and drawer of water--is not altogether an enforced servitude with Indian women, but a voluntary homage and duty which the wife pays to her warrior, who is demeaned in the eyes of her sex by performing manual labor. A squaw who would let her husband work immediately loses caste with her red sisters, and one of the bitterest reproaches which one woman of the tribe can hurl at another is, that her chosen brave had been compelled through her inefficiency to labor with his hands. Christian men and women who wonder that the progress of civilization has been so slow among these people, may perceive by this and similar tokens what prejudices have to be uprooted and what radical changes effected in all the social relations of the Indian, as well as in his moral status, by our Missionaries. These Lower Brulés, like their neighbors the Yanktonais, are very poor and for ever hungry. Game is growing scarcer every year; a load of deer's meat is not often seen at the door of their lodges; soon their only dependence will be in the corn and other produce raised by their own hands.
That night we slept thirteen in a bed--or if not in one bed, side by side under one cover, the cloth tepee. The flickering fire in the centre gave us light, while the smoke expelled the mosquitoes. Guarding the entrance, stretched upon his buffalo robe, but ever and anon rising to go out and see that our horses were safe, slept and smoked, and smoked and slept, our watchful host the chief. Some Minneconjous were in the camp, and he felt anxious about our property. His wife, equally watchful over a poor little sick child, rising to cover it continually, passed a wakeful night near him, while stretched at our feet were the two princesses. During the night a fierce storm of wind and rain smote the camp. The tepee seemed about to yield to the fury of the blast. At a word from the mother the young women arose, and producing forked sticks from some part of the tent, planted one against each of the upright poles, so steadying it from the inside that the lodge seemed rooted to the ground. After the storm had passed we heard the "medicine drum " in one of the near tepees, and were told that the chief conjuror, or medicine man, was practising his arts over a dying person.
The next day, about noon, the chiefs and leading men of the tribe were ready to go into Council. No amount of urging or coaxing could make them hasten their preparations beyond the accustomed mode of slow and dignified procedure. Paint was to be applied, hair braided, scalp locks adorned, and warrior dresses donned. The Council was held in an enclosure of skins, made that morning for the purpose, a crier proclaiming beforehand through the village that all things were in readiness. About eighty chiefs and braves were gathered together, and it seemed as if the whole camp had arisen and surrounded the Council-room. The speeches at first were not dissimilar to those we had heard at Crow Creek. Diplomacy was tried by each of the speakers, and popular applause courted. The Indian bravuras were frequent and ringing. Among the best and most apposite things said were the following:
Ina-jin-au-pi (They-bring-them-standing): I am not a chief, but I am a soldier, and I am also a soldier of temperance. I am speaking for the young men who have joined with me to keep whiskey from the camp, and to prevent war parties being formed. We have done this because you told us that you wished it done, and that it would help you to keep your promises to us. Now when we get these things that have been promised we shall be a new people. Before the sun goes down for summer, we hope these promises will be kept.
Bear Bird: The land you see here is our birthright. Our fathers lived here before us. We wish to live here and to show the outside people [the wild Tetons] that we can live by this land. Although I am an Indian, I have, declared my intention to the whites, and sent my word to my brethren of the plains, that I wish to live as a civilized man.
Standing Cloud [To Mr. W.]: When you travel you have the words of the GREAT SPIRIT and our Great Father in your heart, and you have come to see us on a good day; good things seem to agree in you. Tell our great Father when you go back to him, that among the bands of Indians you have seen on this river, this one which you have seen to-day most desires to live [as white men]. Look at this land ! It has been planted seven years, but it grows no larger. Good men have died waiting to see it grow [i.e., the number of planted acres increase].
Medicine Bull: My friends, the words you have heard to-day are the truth. Since we have been here the hostiles have watched us all the time to see when we were going to be happy and rich. You have made me rich hitherto with words only. If we had received the good things when they were first promised, this valley would not be large enough to hold our people.
Little Pheasant arose; he addressed a few words to his chiefs and people, telling them the substance of what he was about to say to their white friends, and then shaking hands with members of the Commission, said--calling us each by an Indian name--
Wapaha hota, Hinmanee, Putin sin sapa; I shall not cease to follow your advice. This is a beautiful day, such as the GREAT SPIRIT delights in. I intend to speak the words of truth. [To the Interpreter.] You are an old man; your tongue belongs to us. You know we speak the truth when we tell our friends what we have done. [To Commissioners.] I have heard that your society (Church) is eight thousand strong. We look upon you as an elder brother. I have shaken hands with you, and mean to hold your hands. One-half of my body belongs to my friends in the East. [Calls upon the GREAT SPIRIT to hear the words spoken to-day.] If the promises made to us are kept, ten Sundays will not pass before we shall be ready for schools. The words of the whites for fifty years have failed; our great Father [President] has failed--but we do not believe you will fail. My heart is glad and my words are loud. Putin sin sapa! [to the Secretary, who was taking notes]--When you have written your book, close it up and do not open it until you read it to the great Father. He has taken our lands from us and is feeding us in exchange for them. While we eat his meat we should keep his words. But our food is not enough. You whites work with your bellies filled to your throats; you eat in the middle of the day. My young men grow faint at their work and lie down. When our fathers killed the game on these lands they did not drag their children up to eat it where it fell, nor did they run the buffalo until they became poor in running them up to their tepees; our beef is lean from its long journey, and we have to go a hard journey to get it. My friends, we ought to have our own cattle, as promised to us. How long will it be before these promises are kept? Count the time for us by Sundays. My young men have kept their words to you. You no longer see streams here that run whiskey. There are white men over the river that have no more morality than pigs; they live by the neck of the whiskey-bottle. Why does our Great Father allow these men to drag themselves through the country? My young men want instruction, they want to live by your words. But we want these promises kept. [Takes a medal from his neck and places it on the ground. ] You see this medal--it is the schools you wish us to have. Here [drawing a line a foot off] are my people; we want this space filled up, before we come to the schools, with the promises you have made. Since the Church has had charge of the Indians, the country has become peaceful. I hope when you speak you will say good words to my young men, though when you are gone the evil white men will scatter them like this [raising a handful of dust and letting it fall from his fingers. Little Pheasant spoke prophetic words, for our Commission was scarcely out of the Territory before the whites whose morality he describes had filled whole columns of local newspapers with false and scandalous stones reflecting personally on its members.]. Tell them now--you have our eyes and our ears--tell these men words that will make their hearts glad, words they will think over when you are gone, and which will make them laugh in their sleep.
Could we leave these men without giving them another assurance that, so far as we could, we would aid them in procuring the cattle and implements promised by the Treaty? It was arranged on the spot that the rations, about which so much complaint had been made (in no spirit of unkindness towards the Agent, however), should be issued from a storehouse to be erected at Little Pheasant's camp. We were then asked to send teachers and establish schools forthwith, which we promised to do. The Agent has authority to build a Mission school-house in connection with the Sub-Agency storehouse, which will provide quarters for our Missionaries. It is proposed to send two male teachers, and two sisters from the Memorial House, Philadelphia, to the Bruits, before the end of summer.
Fort Sully, June 4.--Resumed journey from Crow Creek Agency yesterday morning. Passed the night in another characteristic Dakota "ranch," dirty and full of vermin. Our host did his best to make us comfortable, however. Mrs. R. retired to a doubtful rest on the dining-table, curtained about with shawls. Our road for one or two miles to-day lay through a prairie-dog village, the only "settlement" we passed on our journey. Reached this Fort a little before noon. It is situated on a bluff, one hundred and sixty feet above the level of the river, and is garrisoned by four companies of infantry. The buildings are good, and the families of the officers stationed here afford refined and agreeable society. It is proposed that, until Mission buildings are erected, our Missionary to the tribes in this vicinity accept the invitation of the commanding officer and occupy quarters, standing vacant at present, at this post. Members of our Church will offer him the hospitalities of a home, and would hail with pleasure the introduction of the Services of our holy religion in this remote region. The Agency where it is designed to plant our Mission, is seven miles above the Fort, on the opposite side of the river; but there is a most interesting Indian colony on the river bank opposite the Fort. When we arrived to-day, almost the first man to meet us was Charlie Fisherman, a full-blooded Indian, who, last fall, instructed and assisted by Mr. Hinman, threw off his blanket and resolved to become like a white man. With the assistance of Black Tomahawk, a Minneconjou, who had also been brought under the influence of Christianity, he put up one or two log-cabins and planted and enclosed a small field on the other side of the river. The relatives and other members of the tribes to which these men belong sought to dissuade them from their purpose, and after exhausting other arguments, tried ridicule, a most potent means usually with the Indian. But they bore it all and stood firm. Then wild members of the tribe came in from the prairies and threatened to burn their houses and tear down their fences; but Charlie and Tomahawk took their guns and blankets and declared if this were attempted they would become wild Indians again, but only to defend their property. In the spring the opposition ceased, and the success of these men in their new life led to the building by others of a dozen more cabins, which we can see now across the river. Charlie was dressed in his best suit of white men's clothes to-day, and wore a white shirt; but his countenance was brighter than his raiment when he saw Mr. Hinman alight from the ambulance. He removed his hat reverently, and hurrying forward to meet his friend and pastor, threw his arms around his neck. We were the guests of General and Mrs. Stanley at dinner to-day, and in the afternoon started for the Agency.
Little Pheasant's Camp, While River.--We crossed the Missouri, nine miles below Crow Creek Agency, in an open wagon, with the water coming over the top of the box, and only the heads and backs of the mules visible. Two of our party crossed at a time, perched on the front seat. We landed on an island, and were thence ferried to the opposite shore in a boat pulled by soldiers, part of the guard stationed at the Sub-Agency. The Sub-Agency buildings and company quarters are built of logs and mud, and stand on the bank of the river. In the rear, covering the low bluffs, is Iron Nation's camp, of about 190 lodges. We are now in the edge of the Indian territory proper, the great Reservation set apart by the Treaty of 1868 for the tribes of Dakotas not otherwise provided for. It embraces all that portion of Dakota west of the Missouri, and south of the 46th parallel. The lands in this immediate vicinity are occupied by the Lower Bruits, of which, as before stated, there are two camps--Iron Nation's, near the Sub-Agency, and Little Pheasant's, at the mouth of the White River, twenty-three miles below. The latter chief has invited us to visit and counsel with him and his fellow-chiefs in regard to things necessary for the welfare of his people. Dr. Livingston, our Agent at Crow Creek (who has the care also of this tribe), accompanies us, as also Lieut. Reedy, in command of the garrison at the Sub-Agency, and his hospitable wife, and the Surgeon of the Post. The road to this camp lies through the timber along the Missouri for five miles, when we strike a spur of hills appropriately termed the "Bad Lands," jutting upon the river. Over these black and bald alkaline crests we have some rugged climbing. Occasionally we meet Indians, and once we encountered a painted warrior and his "squire," or a similar attendant, coming in either from a hunt or a war party (we surmised the latter), who demanded of us somewhat fiercely where all these palefaces were going! The Sub-Agency Interpreter, "Uncle Zeph," an old French trapper who has passed among the Sioux one-half the allotted age of man, explained our mission, but the savage stared at us incredulously. We had entered a region where even the talismanic names Hinmanee and Wapaha hota (or Grey Hat, Mr. Welsh's Indian designation) might not always insure courteous treatment.
At three o'clock on the afternoon of a very hot day we reached the sum mil of the hills overlooking Little Pheasant's camp. "Beautiful for situation" certainly--almost an Indian's paradise. The buffalo and the antelope have been chased far to the westward, however, and there is only the timber and the soil left, and the meandering White River, coming down from the region of the Black Hills, hundreds of miles away. On a tributary of this river, about two hundred miles from the Missouri, is Spotted Tail's tribe of Upper Brulés, and along the White River, in the summer season, hunting and fishing parties of wild Indians come and go. Little Pheasant's location is therefore an important one, being a sort of outlet to the tribes beyond, and as they are continually visiting his people, no better geographical site for a Mission establishment exists along the Missouri. Its advantages in other respects will be considered presently.
The camp lay spread out below us almost in the form of a hollow square. There were about two hundred lodges, or tepees, of white cloth, with here and there one of dressed buffalo hides. To the left, near the Missouri, was the planted field of fifty acres, with the corn well up, and tolerably free from weeds. A very fair fence surrounded it, the rails for which, the Indians told us, they had cut and packed on their backs from the river. The weeds were kept down with a few hoes, but chiefly by the hands and sharpened sticks. We were glad to hear that in preparing the ground the men had worked as well as the women. For an Indian warrior to labor like a squaw, and in the presence of his wild brethren from the plains, is a novel as well as a hopeful sight. The view of the camp was most picturesque. We were among full-blooded Sioux warriors and young men, just beginning to turn their thoughts to civilized modes of life, but by no means released from their barbarous customs, and still living in their primitive state. Ponies were grazing about the hills, guarded by the squaws; boys and girls were playing through the village (absorbed in a game identical, as we afterwards learned, with the "Shinny" played by white lads in our own cities), and an occasional "soldier" maintaining a sort of police over the camp, was seen moving lazily about. We received a courteous but quiet welcome at the lodge of the principal chief, and his wife and two daughters, both grown, prepared the tepee for our reception. In evident expectation of our coming, these two princesses, both of whom are exceedingly pretty, were arrayed in clean white robes, fastened around the waist with broad leather belts, studded with brass ornaments; with wide brass bands around the wrists and arms, and richly embroidered leggings and moccasins encasing the lower extremities. As fresh water was the first essential for our comfort, one of them picked up the five-gallon keg, and after adjusting it by its straps to her back and shoulders, marched off a mile to the river, with as much nonchalance as though she were going to a well in the yard. "Mrs." Little Pheasant kindled a fire and hung over it the camp-kettle, by a chain depending from a single stake bent over the fagots, while the second princess assisted her father in staking out our horses for the night.
While the ladies of our party were preparing our evening meal, and chiefs and head soldiers were dropping into our circle to exchange a friendly howl and the never-failing shake of the hand, a little incident occurred at an adjoining tepee illustrative of the domestic life of these people. A squaw, neatly attired (we at first thought it was in honor of our arrival), came frequently out of her lodge to look long and earnestly in the direction of the distant hills. Pretty soon we missed her, and at the end of an half-hour we saw her descending the slope in the rear of the camp leading her husband's pony loaded with venison and carrying his gun, while before her, in dignified silence but with tired steps, stalked her liege lord. Arriving at his tepee, the weary hunter entered without seeming to notice us, even by so much as a look of curiosity, and was soon stretched upon his couch of skins enjoying his pipe, while his wife, after unloading and unsaddling the pony and tethering him near the lodge, busied herself in preparing her husband's supper. The rites of hospitality were not forgotten by our taciturn neighbor, for he sent us some of his venison. The life of the camp drudge--the veritable hewer of wood and drawer of water--is not altogether an enforced servitude with Indian women, but a voluntary homage and duty which the wife pays to her warrior, who is demeaned in the eyes of her sex by performing manual labor. A squaw who would let her husband work immediately loses caste with her red sisters, and one of the bitterest reproaches which one woman of the tribe can hurl at another is, that her chosen brave had been compelled through her inefficiency to labor with his hands. Christian men and women who wonder that the progress of civilization has been so slow among these people, may perceive by this and similar tokens what prejudices have to be uprooted and what radical changes effected in all the social relations of the Indian, as well as in his moral status, by our Missionaries. These Lower Brulés, like their neighbors the Yanktonais, are very poor and for ever hungry. Game is growing scarcer every year; a load of deer's meat is not often seen at the door of their lodges; soon their only dependence will be in the corn and other produce raised by their own hands.
That night we slept thirteen in a bed--or if not in one bed, side by side under one cover, the cloth tepee. The flickering fire in the centre gave us light, while the smoke expelled the mosquitoes. Guarding the entrance, stretched upon his buffalo robe, but ever and anon rising to go out and see that our horses were safe, slept and smoked, and smoked and slept, our watchful host the chief. Some Minneconjous were in the camp, and he felt anxious about our property. His wife, equally watchful over a poor little sick child, rising to cover it continually, passed a wakeful night near him, while stretched at our feet were the two princesses. During the night a fierce storm of wind and rain smote the camp. The tepee seemed about to yield to the fury of the blast. At a word from the mother the young women arose, and producing forked sticks from some part of the tent, planted one against each of the upright poles, so steadying it from the inside that the lodge seemed rooted to the ground. After the storm had passed we heard the "medicine drum " in one of the near tepees, and were told that the chief conjuror, or medicine man, was practising his arts over a dying person.
The next day, about noon, the chiefs and leading men of the tribe were ready to go into Council. No amount of urging or coaxing could make them hasten their preparations beyond the accustomed mode of slow and dignified procedure. Paint was to be applied, hair braided, scalp locks adorned, and warrior dresses donned. The Council was held in an enclosure of skins, made that morning for the purpose, a crier proclaiming beforehand through the village that all things were in readiness. About eighty chiefs and braves were gathered together, and it seemed as if the whole camp had arisen and surrounded the Council-room. The speeches at first were not dissimilar to those we had heard at Crow Creek. Diplomacy was tried by each of the speakers, and popular applause courted. The Indian bravuras were frequent and ringing. Among the best and most apposite things said were the following:
Ina-jin-au-pi (They-bring-them-standing): I am not a chief, but I am a soldier, and I am also a soldier of temperance. I am speaking for the young men who have joined with me to keep whiskey from the camp, and to prevent war parties being formed. We have done this because you told us that you wished it done, and that it would help you to keep your promises to us. Now when we get these things that have been promised we shall be a new people. Before the sun goes down for summer, we hope these promises will be kept.
Bear Bird: The land you see here is our birthright. Our fathers lived here before us. We wish to live here and to show the outside people [the wild Tetons] that we can live by this land. Although I am an Indian, I have, declared my intention to the whites, and sent my word to my brethren of the plains, that I wish to live as a civilized man.
Standing Cloud [To Mr. W.]: When you travel you have the words of the GREAT SPIRIT and our Great Father in your heart, and you have come to see us on a good day; good things seem to agree in you. Tell our great Father when you go back to him, that among the bands of Indians you have seen on this river, this one which you have seen to-day most desires to live [as white men]. Look at this land ! It has been planted seven years, but it grows no larger. Good men have died waiting to see it grow [i.e., the number of planted acres increase].
Medicine Bull: My friends, the words you have heard to-day are the truth. Since we have been here the hostiles have watched us all the time to see when we were going to be happy and rich. You have made me rich hitherto with words only. If we had received the good things when they were first promised, this valley would not be large enough to hold our people.
Little Pheasant arose; he addressed a few words to his chiefs and people, telling them the substance of what he was about to say to their white friends, and then shaking hands with members of the Commission, said--calling us each by an Indian name--
Wapaha hota, Hinmanee, Putin sin sapa; I shall not cease to follow your advice. This is a beautiful day, such as the GREAT SPIRIT delights in. I intend to speak the words of truth. [To the Interpreter.] You are an old man; your tongue belongs to us. You know we speak the truth when we tell our friends what we have done. [To Commissioners.] I have heard that your society (Church) is eight thousand strong. We look upon you as an elder brother. I have shaken hands with you, and mean to hold your hands. One-half of my body belongs to my friends in the East. [Calls upon the GREAT SPIRIT to hear the words spoken to-day.] If the promises made to us are kept, ten Sundays will not pass before we shall be ready for schools. The words of the whites for fifty years have failed; our great Father [President] has failed--but we do not believe you will fail. My heart is glad and my words are loud. Putin sin sapa! [to the Secretary, who was taking notes]--When you have written your book, close it up and do not open it until you read it to the great Father. He has taken our lands from us and is feeding us in exchange for them. While we eat his meat we should keep his words. But our food is not enough. You whites work with your bellies filled to your throats; you eat in the middle of the day. My young men grow faint at their work and lie down. When our fathers killed the game on these lands they did not drag their children up to eat it where it fell, nor did they run the buffalo until they became poor in running them up to their tepees; our beef is lean from its long journey, and we have to go a hard journey to get it. My friends, we ought to have our own cattle, as promised to us. How long will it be before these promises are kept? Count the time for us by Sundays. My young men have kept their words to you. You no longer see streams here that run whiskey. There are white men over the river that have no more morality than pigs; they live by the neck of the whiskey-bottle. Why does our Great Father allow these men to drag themselves through the country? My young men want instruction, they want to live by your words. But we want these promises kept. [Takes a medal from his neck and places it on the ground. ] You see this medal--it is the schools you wish us to have. Here [drawing a line a foot off] are my people; we want this space filled up, before we come to the schools, with the promises you have made. Since the Church has had charge of the Indians, the country has become peaceful. I hope when you speak you will say good words to my young men, though when you are gone the evil white men will scatter them like this [raising a handful of dust and letting it fall from his fingers. Little Pheasant spoke prophetic words, for our Commission was scarcely out of the Territory before the whites whose morality he describes had filled whole columns of local newspapers with false and scandalous stones reflecting personally on its members.]. Tell them now--you have our eyes and our ears--tell these men words that will make their hearts glad, words they will think over when you are gone, and which will make them laugh in their sleep.
Could we leave these men without giving them another assurance that, so far as we could, we would aid them in procuring the cattle and implements promised by the Treaty? It was arranged on the spot that the rations, about which so much complaint had been made (in no spirit of unkindness towards the Agent, however), should be issued from a storehouse to be erected at Little Pheasant's camp. We were then asked to send teachers and establish schools forthwith, which we promised to do. The Agent has authority to build a Mission school-house in connection with the Sub-Agency storehouse, which will provide quarters for our Missionaries. It is proposed to send two male teachers, and two sisters from the Memorial House, Philadelphia, to the Bruits, before the end of summer.
Fort Sully, June 4.--Resumed journey from Crow Creek Agency yesterday morning. Passed the night in another characteristic Dakota "ranch," dirty and full of vermin. Our host did his best to make us comfortable, however. Mrs. R. retired to a doubtful rest on the dining-table, curtained about with shawls. Our road for one or two miles to-day lay through a prairie-dog village, the only "settlement" we passed on our journey. Reached this Fort a little before noon. It is situated on a bluff, one hundred and sixty feet above the level of the river, and is garrisoned by four companies of infantry. The buildings are good, and the families of the officers stationed here afford refined and agreeable society. It is proposed that, until Mission buildings are erected, our Missionary to the tribes in this vicinity accept the invitation of the commanding officer and occupy quarters, standing vacant at present, at this post. Members of our Church will offer him the hospitalities of a home, and would hail with pleasure the introduction of the Services of our holy religion in this remote region. The Agency where it is designed to plant our Mission, is seven miles above the Fort, on the opposite side of the river; but there is a most interesting Indian colony on the river bank opposite the Fort. When we arrived to-day, almost the first man to meet us was Charlie Fisherman, a full-blooded Indian, who, last fall, instructed and assisted by Mr. Hinman, threw off his blanket and resolved to become like a white man. With the assistance of Black Tomahawk, a Minneconjou, who had also been brought under the influence of Christianity, he put up one or two log-cabins and planted and enclosed a small field on the other side of the river. The relatives and other members of the tribes to which these men belong sought to dissuade them from their purpose, and after exhausting other arguments, tried ridicule, a most potent means usually with the Indian. But they bore it all and stood firm. Then wild members of the tribe came in from the prairies and threatened to burn their houses and tear down their fences; but Charlie and Tomahawk took their guns and blankets and declared if this were attempted they would become wild Indians again, but only to defend their property. In the spring the opposition ceased, and the success of these men in their new life led to the building by others of a dozen more cabins, which we can see now across the river. Charlie was dressed in his best suit of white men's clothes to-day, and wore a white shirt; but his countenance was brighter than his raiment when he saw Mr. Hinman alight from the ambulance. He removed his hat reverently, and hurrying forward to meet his friend and pastor, threw his arms around his neck. We were the guests of General and Mrs. Stanley at dinner to-day, and in the afternoon started for the Agency.
