Greybeard
[pen-name of Isaiah J. Morris]
Chapter 5
From the time the first settler came to the country, to 1836,
the Indians were numerous, and sometimes a little insolent, but
as a rule, they were peaceable, friendly, and strictly minded
their own business. When they were cheated and robbed by the whites,
as they too often were, they frequently exhibited a little bad
blood, which cropped out in ill-natured grumblings; but when treated
fairly, and dealt with honestly, they behaved themselves very
gentlemanly. The avarice and cupidity of many of the early traders,
often caused the Indians to pay two or three prices for what they
purchased, and sometimes twice or three times, even at those figures.
An annuity of forty or fifty thousand dollars was paid both the
Pottawattamies and Miamis. These payments were made first at the
Pottawattamie Mill, at the outlet of Lake Manitau, near Rochester,
but afterwards at the "treaty grounds," two miles below
Huntington, at the confluence of Little River with the Wabash.
The Pottawattamies were more numerous and powerful than the Miamies.
The latter, however, were the most numerous south of the Wabash.
Russiaville, Shinglemacy and Sharran were chiefs of some note
among the Miamies, while Lafountain, Coessa, Monoquet, Zeek, Turkey,
Flat-belly, Squabuck, Wabaassee, Benack, Aubbeenaubbee, Pokshuck
and Meteau were chiefs of the Pottawattamies. The annual payments
were made in the months of October, at which time all the members
of the tribe would repair to the payment ground, at which swarms
of traders, gamblers, and freebooters would also congregate. Traders
would come with claims just and unjust, and swear them through
before the adjusting officer, which claims were paid first, the
Indians receiving the residue. The Indians never liked these middle
men, but were helpless, and could not get clear of their claims.
When the claims were all paid, the annuity was divided among the
tribe, and paid in coin, which the Indians generally tied in the
corner of their blankets. Usually after the payment was made,
the Indians had a dance and general drunk. If any of them waxed
tired or tipsy, and laid down for a nap, or to sober off, when
he woke up he generally found the corner of his blanket clipped,
and his money gone. This kind of theft was extensively practiced,
and often two middle men would be watching the same blanket for
hours, and then not get the money. Two fellows by the name of
Scribner and Wirtz, from North Manchester, were watching the same
Indian for a greater part of the night; at last Scribner ventured
up, knife in hand, to clip the coveted money corner of the blanket.
Wirtz pitched in to secure the prize; a scuffle followed, which
woke the Indian, who was sober enough to comprehend the situation,
and getting up walked away, leaving the disappointed scufflers
to fight as long as they chose. To this kind of trading such men
as the Ewings, Tabors, and others, are indebted for much of their
wealth. As a general thing, when the payment was ended and the
Indians returned home, they were a little better off than before
they went.
There is a marked difference between an Indian drunk, in the manner
of carrying it on, and a white man's drunk, the distinction being
in favor of the Indian, in point of system and caution against
accidents or unworthy conduct. White men go in en-masse, and all
get drunk together, and if a quarrel or difficulty arises, a drunken
fight, in which as many engage as desire to give or receive dotted
eyes, broken heads, or flat noses; while the Indians, before entering
into the contemplated revelry, divest themselves of rifle, knife
and tomahawk, and designate a sufficient number of active and
muscular males and females, who are to remain sober and care for
the others while drunk, and prevent any quarreling, fighting,
or other mischief being done. A liberal portion of "good-ne-toss,"
or whiskey, being set aside and scrupulously preserved until the
grand drunk is passed, for the use of those who watched or remained
sober. During one of these systematic drunks at the payment ground,
in 1842, an Indian who had a grudge against another, became furious
and wished to kill him whether or no. He raved like a wounded
tiger, but having no weapons, and not understanding the civilized
mode of depending upon his fists, he gave vent to his wrath in
a series of those piercing yells peculiar to the savage; but his
career was cut short by two of the police, who gently laid him
on his back, wrapped him from head to foot with baswood bark,
and fastening him securely to a sapling. Others were uproarous,
but were soon quieted, and no harm was done during the frolic.
There were quite a number of Indian villages within the limits
of the county before their removal west of the Mississippi. Squabuck's
village was on Bone Prairie, near where Oswego now stands. He
was a chief of the Pottawattamie persuasion, and was a clever
chief, of good address, and possessed of a reasonable share of
intelligence and cunning. Wabaassee, or Waba, as he was usually
called, had a village at the northeast corner of Turkey Creek
Prairie, at which Dominique Rousseau, father of William and John
H. Rousseau, of this city, had a small trading establishment as
early as 1832 or 1833, and was the second white settler who remained
a citizen of the county. Cowcot was a son-in-law of Waba, and
the handsomest Indian in the county straight as an arrow, fully
developed, muscular, and remarkably swift of foot; but unfortunately
for him, he fell under the displeasure of a young squaw, who,
at a dance, stealthily approached, stabbed him in the neck with
a hunting knife, severed the jugular vein, killing him almost
instantly.
Chicoosie's village stood on the west bank of the Tippecanoe river,
opposite Warner's old mill. The graveyard of his village was somewhat
peculiar, and not like other burial places of that race of people.
Two forks were driven into the ground, and a cross pole lengthways
of the grave put up; split slabs or puncheons were placed from
the ground to the cross pole, making a neat roof over the grave.
Monoquet's village stood where Monoquet now stands. Monoquet was
a large, powerful man, and a chief of some influence. He died
in 1837. His sepulchre was of that peculiar character awarded
only to chiefs. His body was brought a few hundred yards from
where the Warsaw and Leesburg road crosses, and placed in a sitting
posture against a large oak tree, enclosing tree and body in a
rough round pen. His body remained there for a year or more, or
until the Indians were being collected prior to removing west
of the Mississippi, when his family and friends declared they
would not leave their village nor the graves of their ancestors
so long as their chief Monoquet retained his position. John Patey,
who had entered the land now composing the Kelly farm, upon which
the body was deposited, relieved the old chief's friends of making
trouble, by assuming the responsibility, and prostrated the body,
scattering the bones all over the little enclosure. In after years
full half a dozen doctors claimed to have in their possession
the identical skull of the old chief, while a neighboring farmer
had it placed on his hen-coop as a protection against the depredations
of foxes and owls.
Aubbeenaubee's village was on the banks of the Tippecanoe, in
Fulton County, and is introduced here on account of his tragical
death. In 1835, Aubbeenaubbee, who was a large, portly, and influential
chief, in a drunken frolic, killed his oldest son, which produced
a great excitement among his tribe. The old chief knew the Indian
law, and knew well that notwithstanding his high position, his
life must pay the forfeit of his crime, and made his arrangements
accordingly. It was agreed among the friends of the murdered man
that Pok-shuk, the chiefs second son, should be the avenger of
his brother's death, and take his father's life. Aubbeenaubee
being informed of this, made all necessary preparations to meet
death in a manner becoming a brave chief and warrior and seating
himself with a calm countenance and steady voice told his son
to shoot him. Pok-shuk deliberately loaded his trusty rifle in
the presence of his victim, then raising it to his shoulder to
shoot, but his otherwise strong and manly nerves gave way, and
he trembled to such an extent that to shoot, with a prospect of
killing the object was impossible, and at once abandoned the execution
of his father, telling the by-standers that he could not fire
the fatal shot. This gave evidence that he possessed filial affection
and humane feeling. This, however, did not punish the guilty,
or appease the wrath of the friends of the deceased, who taunted
Pok-shuk as a coward, calling him a squaw, etc. Whisky was brought,
and Pok-shuk, as well as the chief, were soon both drunk, when
a knife was put into the hands of Pok-shuk, who like an infuriated
tiger, sprung upon his father, thrusting his knife into the old
chief's side twice or thrice, making fearful wounds, but not causing
immediate death. Pok-shuk retired satisfied, leaving the chief
to die in his blood. The medicine men were immediately called,
who prepared a string about a foot in length of short bones, telling
the chief if he could swallow them and have them drawn back again
by the end of the string, he would positively recover; but if
he failed in the operation, there was no help for him. He made
a desperate effort to swallow the bones, which resulted in a failure,
and determined his fate. Finding he must die, he sent for an interpreter
to write his will, but he was unable to dictate his desires, and
died in a few hours. Like Monoquet, his body was placed in a sitting
posture against a tree or stump near his house, and a rude enclosure
put around him. Aubbeenaubbee was one of the foremost, most eloquent,
intelligent and powerful chiefs of his day among the Pottawattamies.
At the treaty of Tippecanoe in 1832, he was the principal speaker,
and when he arose in council, his appearance at once commanded
silence and respect. He was at the battle of Tippecanoe and the
treaty which followed, and was considered wealthy by his friends,
owning, at the time of his death, an entire township of land,
which to-day bears his name. In 1837 and 1838 a majority of the
Indians in fact all who could be forced to go, were taken by the
government west of the Mississippi, since when but little has
been heard from them. A few yet remain, but they are living in
a semi-civilized condition. This number has been devoted to a
description of the Indians, though meader and imperfect, yet it
will convey some idea of their operations as seen by the early
settlers. Other chiefs, villages, and circumstances might have
been introduced; but the foregoing must suffice for the present.
Northern Indianian March 19, 1874
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