THE SHORT-FOOT.

Most of the individuals who have figured amongst the Red Race in America, have appeared under circumstances which have precluded any thing like a full and consistent biography. There is, in truth, but little in savage life, to furnish materials for such biographies. The very scantiness of events determines this. A man suddenly appears among these tribes as a warrior, a negotiator, an orator, or a prophet, by a name that nobody ever before heard of. He excites attention for a short time, and then sinks back into the mass of Indian society, and is no more heard of. His courage, his eloquence, or his diplomatic skill, are regarded as evidences of talent, and energy of thought or action, which, under better auspices, might have produced a shining and consistent character. But he has been left by events, and is sunk in the mass. He appeared rather like an erratic body, or flash, than a fixed light amid his people. The circumstances that brought him into notice have passed away. A victory has been won, a speech made, a noble example given. The affair has been adjusted, the tribe resumed its hunting, or corn-planting, or wandering, or internal discords, and the new name, which promised for a while to raise a Tamerlane, or Tippoo Saib in the west, settles down in the popular mind; and if it be not wholly lost, is only heard of now and then, as one of the signatures to some land treaty. There is not, in fact, sufficient, in the population, military strength, or importance of the affairs of most of our tribes, to work out incidents for a sustained and full biography. Even the most considerable personages of past times, who have been honoured with such full notices, have too much resemblance to a stout boy in his father's regimentals. They hang loosely about him. The most that can be done—all indeed which the occasion requires in general—is a sketch of such particular events, in aboriginal history, as the individual has connected his name with. It is proposed in the progress of this work, to furnish some of such sketches from the unwritten annals of the west and the north.

Among that class of aboriginal chiefs and actors, who have not risen to the highest distinction, or attained general notoriety out of the circle of their own tribes, was Takozid, or the Short-Foot; a Mukundwa, or pillager; a fierce, warlike, and predatory tribe of the Odjibwa Algonquin stock, who, at an early time seated themselves on the sources of the Mississippi, making their head quarters at Leech Lake. To this place, their traditions assert, they came from Chagoimegon, or still farther east, prior to the discovery of the country by Europeans. They were consequently intruders in, or conquerors of the country, and drove back some other people. It seems equally probable that this people were the Dacotahs, the Naddowassies, or as it is abbreviated, Sioux, of early French writers. The Sioux are a numerous and warlike stock, who occupy portions of the banks of the Missouri and the Mississippi, at, and about the latitude of St. Anthony's Falls. A hereditary war of which "the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," was the consequence of this ancient inroad. Of all this region of country we can speak from personal knowledge, having traversed it at sundry times, and in various directions. It is in local reminiscence, little more than a widely extended scene of Indian battles, ambuscades and murders. There is hardly a prominent stream, plain or forest, which is not referred to, as the traveller proceeds, as the particular locality of some fight, tragedy, or hair-breadth escape among the Red Men. The Olympic games were not a surer test of fame in successful rivalry, than is this wide area of aboriginal warfare, for the opposing nations of the Sioux and Chippewas. War is the prime avenue to distinction to the Indian mind. As soon as a hunter has acquired any distinction, and begins to look upon himself as a person of courage and address, he turns his efforts to the war path. Whatever else he is famous for, this is the crowning test and seal of his reputation. And none have pursued it with more incessant devotion than the Chippewas.

Takozid determined from his earliest youth to take a part in the strife for barbaric glory. He early joined the war parties going into the great plains. He learned their arts, repeated their songs, and became expert in all the warrior's arts. He established the reputation of a brave young man. The next step was to lead a war party himself. He courted popularity by generosity, self denial, and attention to their religious rites and ceremonies. These things may be done on a smaller scale, as effectually among a band of savages, as in the hall or forum. He succeeded. He raised a war party, conducted it into the plains, discovered his enemies, approached them slyly, fell upon them, defeated them, and returned in triumph with their scalps to his village. His deep and hollow CHE KWAN DUM, or death-cry of victory as he came to the eminence which overlooked his village, announced all this before he set foot in his village: and the number of his scalps.

These exploits placed him on the pinnacle of fame. It is a curious fact, in the lives of our Red men, to observe that war is a stimulus to poligamy. One of the first things he thought of, as a proper reward for his bravery, was to take another wife. In this, his friends and partizans concurred, although he had no cause of dissatisfaction with his first wife, to whom he had been married but a short time, and who had borne him a son. Time added confirmation to this plan. It was talked of, and even debated by the chiefs. It was conceded to be due to his bravery. All, indeed, appeared to approve of it, but his wife. She heard of the rumor with alarm, and received the account of its confirmation, with pain. It could no longer be doubted, for the individual who was to share, nay, control the lodge with her was named, and the consent of her parents had been obtained.

Monon, or the Little-Iron-Wood-Tree, as she was called, was a female of no ordinary firmness of character. She was ardently attached to her husband, not the less so for his rising fame, jealous of her rights, and prompted by strong feelings to maintain them. In all these points she was above the generality of her country women. Like others, however, in a community where poligamy was common, she might have submitted at length, to her fate, had not her rival in the affections of Takozid, appealed to a deeper seated principle, and waked up, in the breast of the injured wife, the feeling of revenge: a principle reckless enough, in communities where there are the safeguards of education and christianity to restrain and regulate it; but horrible in wild and roving bands of barbarians. Monon's fidelity was slandered. She was a pure and high minded woman, and the imputation goaded her to the quick.

When this slander first reached her ears, through the ordinary channel of village gossip, a chord was struck, which vibrated through every throe, and steeled her heart for some extraordinary act; although none could anticipate the sanguinary deed which marked the nuptial night. An Indian marriage is often a matter of little ceremony. It was not so, on this occasion. To render the events imposing, many had been invited. The bride was dressed in her best apparel. Her father was present. Many young and old, males and females were either present or thronged around the lodge. The broad clear blue waters of the lake, studded with green islands, spread before the door. A wide grassy lawn, which was the village ball and play ground, extended down to its margin. It was a public event. A throng had gathered around. Takozid was to be married. He was to take a second wife, in the daughter of Obegwud. Takozid himself was there. Hilarity reigned within and without. All indeed, were there, but the dejected and deserted Monon, who had been left with her child, at the chieftain's own lodge.

But a spirit had been aroused in her breast, which would not permit her to remain absent. She crossed the green silently, stealthily. She stood gazing awhile at the lake. She approached the bridal lodge. She passed easily among the group. She entered the lodge. Nor had any one, at that moment, a thought of suspicion or alarm. The bride was seated on her envied abbinos; her affianced husband was at her side.

All at once, there arose a shrill cry, in the Chippewa tongue. "This," vociferated the enraged Monon, "This for the bastard!" and at each repetition of the words, she raised an Indian poignard, in her hand. The suddenness of her movement had paralyzed every attempt to arrest her. Amazement sat in every face. She had plunged a pointed knife into the breast of her rival.

There is little to be added to such a catastrophe. Its very suddenness and atrocity appalled every one. Nobody arrested her, and nobody pursued her. She returned as she came, and re-entered her lodge. Her victim never spoke.

From this moment the fame of Takozid declined. The event appeared to have unmanned him. He went no more to war. His martial spirits appeared to have left him. He sank back into the mass of Indian society, and was scarcely ever mentioned. Nor should we, indeed, have recalled his name from its obscurity, were it not associated in the Indian reminiscences of Leech lake, with this sanguinary deed.

I had this relation a few years ago, from a trader, who had lived at Leech lake, who personally knew the parties, and whose veracity I had no reason at all, to call into question. It is one of the elements that go into the sum of my personal observations, on savage life, and as such I cast it among these papers. To judge of the Red race aright, we must view it, in all its phases, and if we would perform our duty towards them, as christians and men, we should gather our data from small, as well as great events, and from afar as well as near. When all has been done, in the way of such collections and researches, it will be found, we think, that their errors and crimes, whatever they are, assume no deeper dye than philanthropy has had reason to apprehend them to take, without a knowledge of the principles of the gospel. Thou shalt not kill, is a law, yet to be enforced, among more than two hundred thousand souls, who bear the impress of a red skin, within the acknowledged limits of the American Union.