Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee and other tribes of American Indians (Vol. 1 of 2)Irving, John Treat
History
Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee and other tribes of American Indians (Vol. 1 of 2)
Irving, John Treat
Indians of North America -- Kansas; Indians of North America -- Nebraska; Pawnee Indians
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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