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Seven and Nine years Among the Camanches and Apaches: An Autobiography

<hr style="width: 35%;" />[Pg 233] <h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> <h2>THE FEAST OF THE GREEN CORN.</h2> The fields, or more properly speaking, the patches of corn were quickly ripening, thanks to the arduous efforts of Wakadahme and his wonderful arrow, and the whole tribe was waiting impatiently the time when the signal should announce that the feast of the green corn was about to commence. Next to fighting, your Indian likes eating; about one half of his time is employed in catering to the cravings of his stomach. When not engaged in fighting his enemies, or marauding in the vicinity of the Mexican border-towns, he occupies his energies in the hunt or chase. At the time of my enforced residence among the Apaches, they were not restricted and confined to reservations as at present. They considered themselves masters of the country which they inhabited, and were free to roam in any direction their fancy might dictate. When in search of game, they would scour the plains to the northward, and on some occasions would penetrate deep into the country of their enemies, the Crows and Blackfeet. Numerous encounters would result from this intrusion on the [Pg 234]rights of others. At times they would meet and repulse their opponents, and continue the hunt, return laden with the fruits of the chase, and girdles plentifully garnished with their victim's scalps. At such times, their return home partook of the character of an ovation; fires would be lighted, food prepared in abundance, and high revelry be the order of the day. Gathered around the council fires, with an eager and attentive multitude of old men, women and children, constituting themselves an audience, the braves would indulge in the most fantastic and highly colored narratives of their deeds of valor and heroic bearing in the presence of an enemy. Seated in a circle around the blazing fire, and smoking their clay pipes, each one in turn would relate the incidents of his particular case, reciting the most improbable deeds of valor, and ending up, usually, with the oft-told tale, of how he gained his sobriquet. His listeners had doubtless heard the same story on many similar occasions, but repetition has no horror for an Indian, and judging from the flattering silence with which his speech is received, and the many complimentary expressions with which he is greeted at its close, one would at once conclude that the remarks were new and original. Boasting is an Indian's weak point; given a listener, and the amount of bombast and mock heroics which he will inflict on one, simply staggers belief. If, on the contrary, the hunting party has not been [Pg 235]successful, but defeat and misfortune has been their portion, then the scene is changed. In place of feasting and revelry, they are greeted with a death-like silence, and, as the remnant of the party defile through the village, they are objects of the closest scrutiny by anxious mothers and wives. If the keen eyes of love, search in vain for the form of him, who a few weeks before left the village in the glory and vigor of manhood, a heart-rending wail goes up, which is instantly echoed by the assembled women, until the welkin resounds with mournful cries. As on more joyful occasions, a rush is made in the direction of the council lodge, and it then becomes the painful duty of the survivors to relate their mishaps, and how such and such an one met the enemy with his accustomed bravery, and foremost fighting, fell. In these recitals, the party in question always meet a foe who vastly outnumbers them, and according to their account, their opponents always suffer terribly in slain, and would have eventually been overcome, and completely routed, had not some trifling accident—which could not be foreseen—occurred to mar the effects of their stunning prowess. I have never seen an Indian fight, and am not able to judge of their actions on the field of battle, but, if observations of the red man in his home, is any criterion, I should venture the opinion that an Apache would fight valiantly under one condition, namely: when his party were numerically stronger than the [Pg 236]opposing force. I think they have a just appreciation of the Falstaffian method of conducting warfare, and are firmly convinced that "he who fights and runs away," has better opportunities for glory, rapacity and booty, another day. As these pages are being written, the country is again startled by the news of fresh Indian outrages, this time, against the constituted authority of the country, and close on the heels of the news of the reopening of Indian hostilities, comes the thrilling intelligence that a General has been shot in cold blood, and whilst under the protecting and sacred influence of a flag of truce. Such dastardly and treacherous conduct, thrills one with a righteous indignation, and we are more than ever impressed with the belief that measures, the most rigorous, should be instituted, and that the government should put to one side any feelings of mawkish sentimentality, and mete out to these red-handed savages the retribution their desserts merit. The case under consideration is only one among many. How many immigrant trains dragging their slow length over the trackless and boundless prairies, have met a similar fate; and their misfortune never so much as heard of. Whole villages on the borders have been attacked, captured and pillaged; their inhabitants murdered in cold blood, or carried off into a captivity that was worse even than the knife of the savage. Who can count the lonely victims who have been waylaid on their toilsome journey, by a [Pg 237]party of howling savages, and being surrounded, before they were aware almost of the presence of an enemy, set upon and brained in the most cruel manner, and their bodies left weltering in their own gore, a repast for wolves and coyotes—horrible reflection; to think of the numbers who have suffered this fate, and died unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown; while their murderers were these same gentle red children, of whose interests the government has exercised such a watchful care, guarding them against the rigors of winter by a plentiful supply of food and blankets, and during the spring furnishing them with powder and the most improved fire-arms, that they might thereby be enabled to steal forth from their reservation, prey on helpless travelers, and returning covered with the blood of their white brothers; praise their Great Father at Washington, and thank him, through their agent, for the many inestimable gifts he has placed in their hands, by whose judicious use they have gratified their dominant passions, and turned many a happy home into a chamber of mourning. Out upon such a policy! War, to the bitter end, is the only "policy" that should be for a moment entertained, in dealing with these fiends; and when they are at last exterminated off the face of the earth, it may, perhaps, be safe for a man to undertake to travel through his own land. My readers may think I speak with undue heat on this subject, but the memory of my sufferings and trials, during the time that I [Pg 238]remained among the Apaches, make it almost imperative that I should speak freely and without reserve. Those who are at home, and surrounded by the protecting influence of a father's or husband's care, cannot fully appreciate the perils and degradation consequent upon a life of bondage, and I sincerely trust that it may never be their misfortune to undergo similar experiences. I must apologize for this lengthy digression, and will hereafter endeavor to keep more closely to the thread of my narrative. As before stated, the Indians always made the most extensive preparations for the feast of the green corn; and it was looked forward to with the most eager anticipations. Several weeks before the corn had fairly ripened, the head chief and medicine men met in conclave, and decided on what measures were to be pursued during the festivities. In most instances, a few of the older women of the tribe were selected, and appointed to watch the patches of corn attentively. Every morning they were required to pick a few ears of corn, and without dividing the husk, bring it to the medicine chief; Eeh-tohk-pah-shee-pee-shah (the black moccasin), who would examine it, and if it was not deemed sufficiently ripe, they would be dismissed with an injunction to appear again on the following morning, with another handful of freshly gathered corn. This performance was continued until the samples examined [Pg 239]were considered to have arrived at a stage of sufficient ripeness, when the fact was announced by criers, who went through the village proclaiming the joyful intelligence. For several days previous to the announcement of this gratifying news, the Indians had subjected themselves to a thorough purgation, using for this purpose a decoction of various bitter roots and herbs, which they termed asceola (the black drink). This course of treatment enabled them to attack the corn with ravenous appetites, and to gorge themselves until they could scarcely move. On the appointed day the tribe are all assembled, and in the center of the lodge a kettle is hung over a fire, and filled with the coveted grain. This is well boiled, and offered to the Great Spirit as a sacrifice. This is an imperative ceremony, and must be performed before any one can indulge the cravings of his appetite. During the time that the cauldron is boiling, four chiefs and mystery men dance around the steaming kettle. They are painted with white clay, and in one hand they hold a stalk of the corn, while with the other they grasp the rattle. As they move around the fire, they chant a weird song of thanksgiving, taking particular pains to remind the Great Spirit that they are doing all this in his honor, and restraining their appetites that he may be pleased, and propitiated, to the extent of furnishing them with a bountiful supply during the ensuing season. [Pg 240]Whilst the medicine men are performing in this manner, a number of others form in a circle, outside of the inner one, and with stalks of corn in each hand, go through a somewhat similar ceremony. Wooden bowls are placed on the ground immediately under a tripod, formed by joining together three poles, of about twelve feet in length, which are also ornamented with ears of corn. In each of the bowls is placed a spoon, made of the horn of the buffalo, or mountain sheep, in which the feast is to be served. The dance is continued until the chiefs decide the corn is sufficiently boiled; when, at a given signal, the dance is stopped for a few minutes, and again resumed, this time to a different tune. Then the master of ceremonies removes the smoking vegetable and places it upon a small scaffold of sticks, which they erect over the fire. Having done this, the first fire is removed, and the ashes are gathered and buried. A new fire is then made in the place occupied by the old one. The new one is started by a very painful process. Three men seat themselves on the ground, facing each other, and procuring a hard block of wood, commence drilling violently with a stick, by rolling it between the palms of the hand. Each one catches it in turn from the other, without allowing the motion to stop, until smoke, and at last, a spark of fire is seen, and caught in a piece of punk, whereat there is great rejoicing among the bystanders. When this fire [Pg 241]is kindled, the kettle is again placed over the fire, and refilled with the vegetable. Now the feast begins, an onslaught is made on the contents of the pot, and the Indians rush off in all directions to devour the corn. Soon fires are blazing in every lodge, and all are indulging in the grossest gluttony. This feast lasts until the corn is exhausted, or becomes too hard to eat with any degree of comfort. When an Indian has gorged himself to the fullest capacity, he has recourse to his asceola, and is soon in a condition to recommence with as much vigor as at first. These scenes filled me with disgust, and I often thought how happy those brutes would be if they were only endowed with the wonderful attributes of that little sea monster, the polyp, who, when his body is cut in half, suffers no inconvenience, but gormandizes as much as ever, with this advantage, that the food, instead of remaining in his stomach, passes out at the other end; thus allowing him to indulge in the pleasure of gluttony, without the inconvenience of being gorged. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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