THE RIVAL CHIEFS.—INDIAN FEASTS.

Besides the Iotan, there are two other chiefs, inferior in rank, and far less popular. It was amusing to see how jealous a watchfulness each held over the actions of the other—each afraid to take a single step in the transaction of any business whatever, lest it should give some advantage to his rival. They reminded me strongly of two belligerent cats, mounted on the top of some gutter, glaring in each other’s eyes, and growling deep-muttered sounds of wrath; but neither venturing to attack or retreat, lest by some unguarded movement, he should expose some unprotected part to the fangs of his adversary. The Indian names of these two worthies I have forgotten; but they are known to the trappers by those of the Big Kaw (or Kanzas) and the Thief.

This last honourable badge of distinction was bestowed upon the father of the present possessor; but in process of time the old Thief was gathered to his fathers, and the young Thief reigned in his stead. He inherited his name, his worn-out blankets, and so large a number of grudges and private quarrels, that, in acting as executor and revenging his father’s injuries, years had elapsed before he could fairly say that the debts of the deceased were paid off.

The young Thief had, however, now become the old Thief. His hair was silvered by age; and he had arrived at that period of life which old folks are apt to call “the years of discretion;” that is, he had passed the prime of his usefulness, and had reached that age when strong attachments are usually formed to easy comforts and chimney corners.

The Big Kaw is a short thick Indian, rather good-natured, but gifted with a large supply of mulish obstinacy, and a temper like gunpowder. Oppose him—flash!—he is in a blaze; the children scamper; the squaws scatter; the rabble vanish. None stay to listen to the outpourings of his wrath, unless it may be one or two old fellows, who are too decrepit to get out of his way, or are blessed with so happy a hardness of hearing, as to render it agreeable to them to be conversed with, even though by a man in a passion.

The family of this chief consists of several wives, and a son, who is one of the most intelligent young men in the village. He, however, is the very counterpart of the old man in disposition; and when the two get fairly excited, the village is in an uproar. If the quarrel is commenced in a lodge, the building is instantly vacated by the rest of its occupants, until the silence which reigns within gives notice that the storm has blown over. Upon these occasions, it is said that those who return generally find the old man looking very foolish, and the son very angry. From this it is suspected that the former is held in subjection by his graceless offspring. Be that as it may, the young warrior still retains a strong affection for his fond old father. Although, in his anger, he sometimes oversteps the bounds of propriety, and conducts himself in an indecorous manner towards him, yet, upon the whole, he is looked upon as a pattern of filial piety—particularly as he permits nobody to bully his father, but himself. The Thief was in every respect the reverse of his rival. He was tall and wiry—of that construction which denotes extreme hardiness of constitution, united with a great lack of superfluous flesh. He was calm and quiet in all his movements, and would sit for hours in the same posture, his eyes alone keeping watch. He slid in and out of our tent, with a noiseless step, which frequently caused us to be unaware either of his presence or his absence. We were often startled, when least expecting it, by hearing his deep sonorous tones at our elbows.

The Iotan chief is the lord paramount of the village. With that cunning policy for which he is noted, he contrives, by balancing the interest of the two inferior chiefs, to keep them so constantly engaged in watching each other, that they have no time to turn their attention to himself.

On the first day of our arrival, we were invited to feast with about half the village. The first lodge which we entered was that of the Iotan. We found him sitting cross-legged upon some cushions to receive us. Upon our coming up to him, he presented the commissioner with a seat next himself. Then turning to his wife, he called for the feast, which consisted of dried buffalo flesh, boiled with a large quantity of hard corn. The interior of his abode wore but a dull, dingy look. The rafters were almost invisible for the eddying clouds of smoke, lazily seeking the hole in the roof, which served for the chimney.

This old chief had divided his affections among five wives. They were seated in different parts of the lodge, engaged in pounding corn, or chattering over the news of the day. They were evidently under but little subjection. While we were eating with him, the old man took the opportunity to disburthen his heart. He let us into a knowledge of the miseries to which he was subjected from their caprices; and the difficulties which he found in maintaining a proper discipline where there were so many mistresses and but one master.

Upon leaving the lodge, we next visited that of the Big Kaw. He guided us himself through the intricacies of the town, until we reached the building and entered through its low funnel-mouthed door. We had scarcely seated ourselves, before we found that we had got into warm quarters. The lady of the house had not expected company, and was unprepared for visiters. There was evidently a storm gathering. I read it in her lowering eyes, and in the uneasy, stealthy look of the Indian. He made no parade, but glided across the building, and motioned us a seat, with a guilty air; then slunk upon a cushion, with the look of a man who would wish to pass unnoticed. Occasionally he cast towards his helpmate a deprecating glance, like that of a whipped dog. His eye seemed to say, “I know I was wrong in bringing them; but I beseech you to keep quiet now, and you may scold as much as you please when the visiters have gone.”

A bowl of dried buffalo flesh was at last placed before us: the viands being rather tough, drew forth some remark from our host, half facetious, half apologetic. By accident it reached the hearing of the squaw, who thought that it was intended as a reflection upon her. In an instant she was in a blaze, and opened her batteries upon the chief, pouring out one continuous torrent of invective. Hot-headed and irascible as he naturally was, nevertheless for a moment he shrank under it; and, if it could have been done with credit to himself, probably would have evacuated the field; but in the present case that was impossible; and to be thus lorded over by his wife, and before strangers, was intolerable. Though for a moment overawed by the attack, his touch-paper temper began to take fire. At first it only evinced itself by a few sulky shakes of the head; but at last it burst through all restraint, and sent back a fire as hot as was given. The war was furious for some moments, and apparently carried on with equal vigour on both sides; but at length the bursts from the chief grew fewer and fewer: he was evidently getting worsted; his lips grew closer—more resolved, and his look began to wander round the dwelling, until at last it rested upon a large stick which lay on the floor at a little distance. A glance of his eye called the attention of his wife in that direction. It is probable that she understood its meaning; for after a few sulky looks, and a few sullen mutterings, her words grew more and more rare, and at last ceased altogether.

We remained but a short time longer, and after visiting the lodges of several others, returned to our tents.