THE IOTAN AND HIS BROTHER, OR INDIAN REVENGE.

It was some years before the Iotan had reached the rank of a chief, that he was despoiled of his nose in the following manner:—

Several Otoe Indians, by dint of paying fifty times their value, had become possessed of a number of kegs of whiskey. As this was rather a rarity, a council was called, and a general carousal of the male portion of the village resolved upon. The females were excluded: it being deemed necessary that they should remain sober, to exercise a conjugal care over their husbands, when so inebriated as to be unable to take care of themselves. In the mean time, a person was appointed as guard, whose business it was to keep watch over the liquor, and drive off all interlopers, who might be inclined to test its quality before the time appointed. After three long, and to them lingering days, the time came round; and at the appointed hour not a soul was behindhand.

The signal was given, and the revel commenced. As the liquor began to work upon the passions of the revellers, they grew furious. They howled, yelled, and fought. The females fled from the building. All weapons had been removed beforehand; for they knew their own ungovernable nature, when under the influence of liquor, and, therefore, had taken precautions to prevent the occurrence of mischief.

But when the whiskey commenced its work, the savage was changed to a demon, and the lodge resounded with their screams and howling; there was a hell within its bosom.

The giant warrior fixed his gripe upon the trembling frame of the aged; brother smote brother; friends fought with bitter fury, and the weak and decrepit were trampled under foot.

It was in this stage of the riot that the Iotan and his brother had a furious scuffle. They grappled and rolled upon the ground. In the frenzy of strife and intoxication, his brother bit off the end of his nose, and instantly extricating himself, rushed out of the lodge.

The Iotan was perfectly sobered; he paused for a moment, looking intently in the fire, without uttering a word; then drawing his blanket over his head, walked out of the building and hid himself in his own lodge. On the following morning he sought his brother, and told him that he had disfigured him for life: “tonight,” said he, “I will go to my lodge and sleep; if I can forgive you when the sun rises, you are safe; if not, you die.” He kept his word; he slept upon his purpose; but sleep brought not mercy. He sent word to his brother that he had resolved upon his death, that there was no further hope for him; at the same time he besought him to make no resistance, but to meet his fate as a warrior should.

His brother received the message and fled from the village. An Indian is untiring in his pursuit of revenge, and though years may elapse, yet he will obtain it in the end. From the time that it became the fixed purpose of the Iotan to slay his brother, his assiduity never slept; he hunted him for months. He pursued his trail over the prairies; he followed his track from one thicket to another; he traced him through the friendly villages, but without success; for although he was untiring, his brother was watchful, and kept out of his way. The old warrior then changed his plan of action. He laid in wait for him in the forest, crouching like a tiger, in the paths which he thought he might frequent in hunting, but he was for a long time unsuccessful. At length, one day, while seated on a dead tree, he heard the crackling noise of a twig breaking beneath a cautious footstep. He instantly crouched behind the log and watched the opposite thicket. Presently an Indian emerged from it, and gazed cautiously around. The Iotan recognized his brother instantly. His careworn face and emaciated form evinced the anxiety and privations that he had suffered. But this was nothing to the Iotan; as yet his revenge was unsated, and the miserable appearance of his brother touched no chord of his heart. He waited until he was within a few feet of him; then sprang from his lurking place and met him face to face. His brother was unarmed; but met his fiery look with calmness and without flinching.

“Ha! ha! brother,” cried the Iotan, cocking his rifle, “I have followed you long, in vain,—now I have you—you must die.”

The other made no reply; but throwing off his blanket, stepped before him, and presented his breast. The Iotan raised his rifle and shot him through the heart.

His revenge was gratified; but from that hour a change came over him. He became gloomy and morose; shunned the society of his fellow-men, and roamed the woods, where he was nearly driven to suicide by the workings of his feelings, and the phantasies of his brain. It was not until many years had elapsed, that he recovered from the deep anguish caused by this unnatural act of vengeance.