The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the WigwamFrost, John
History
The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam
Frost, John
Indians of North America
stamping his foot and frowning as he drew his bow and threatening the
heavens, commanding it to rain--his bow was bent, and the arrow drawn
to its head, was sent to the clond, and he exclaimed, “My friends, it
is done! Wak-a-dah-ha-hee’s arrow has entered the black clond, and the
Mandans will be wet with the waters of the skies!” His predictions were
true; in a few moments the clouds were over the village, and the rain
fell in torrents. He stood for some time wielding his weapons and
presenting his shield to the sky, while he boasted of his power and the
efficacy of his medicine, to those who had been about him, and were
now driven to the shelter of their wigwams. He, at length, finished his
vaunts and threats, and descended from his high place, (in which he had
been perfectly drenched,) prepared to receive the honors and the homage
that were due to one so potent in his mysteries; and to receive the
style and title of “medicine-man.” This is one of a hundred different
modes in which a man in Indian countries acquires the honorable
appellation.
This man had “made it rain,” and of course was to receive more than
usual honors, as he had done much more than ordinary men could do. All
eyes were upon him, and all were ready to admit that he was skilled in
the magic art; and must be so nearly allied to the Great or Evil Spirit,
that he must needs be a man of great and powerful influence in the
nation, and was entitled to the style of doctor or medicine-man.
During the memorable night of which I have just spoken, the steamboat
remained by the side of the Mandan village, and the rain that had
commenced falling continued to pour down its torrents until midnight;
black thunder roared, and vivid lightning flashed until the heavens
appeared to be lit up with one unceasing and appalling glare. In this
frightful moment of consternation, a flash of lightning buried itself
in one of the earth-covered lodges of the Mandans, and killed a beautiful
girl. Here was food and fuel fresh for their superstitions; and a
night of vast tumult and excitement ensued. The dreams of the new-made
medicine-man were troubled, and he had dreadful apprehensions for the
coming day; for he knew that he was subject to the irrevocable decree
of the chiefs and doctors, who canvass every strange and unaccountable
event, with close and superstitious scrutiny, and let their vengeance
fall without mercy upon its immediate cause.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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