CHAPTER XIX.
THE DANCE OF THE OLD DOGS.
Pethonista received his guests with all the refinements of Indiancourtesy, obliging them to eat when he fancied he noticed that what wasplaced before them pleased their taste.
It is not always agreeable to a white man to be invited to an Indiandinner; for, among the redskins, etiquette prescribes that you shouldeat everything offered you without leaving a mouthful. Acting otherwisewould greatly offend the Anfitryon. Hence the position of small eatersis very disagreeable at times: owing to the vast capacity of Indianstomachs, they find themselves under the harsh necessity of undergoingan attack of indigestion, or attract on themselves a quarrel which musthave serious consequences.
Fortunately nothing of this sort occurred on the present occasion, andthe repast terminated satisfactorily to all. When dinner was over,Valentine rose, and bowing thrice to the company, said to the chief--
"I thank my brother, in the name of my comrades and myself, for hisgracious reception. In a thousand moons the recollection of it will notbe effaced from my mind. But warriors have something else to do than toeat, when serious interests claim their attention. Will my brotherPethonista hear the news I have to impart to him?"
"Has my brother a secret communication to make to me, or does hismessage interest the whole tribe?"
"My message concerns all."
"Wah! my brother must be patient, then. Tomorrow--perhaps in a fewhours--Unicorn, our great sachem, will have returned, and my brother canthen speak with him."
"If Unicorn were here," Valentine said quickly, "two words wouldsuffice; but he is absent, and time presses. For a second time I ask mybrother to listen to me."
"Good; as my brother wishes it, in an instant all the chiefs shall beassembled in the great audience lodge, above the vault in which burnsthe fire of Montecuhzoma."
Valentine bowed in acquiescence.
We will say something here about the fire of Montecuhzoma, which is notwithout interest to the reader.
This singular custom has been handed down from age to age, especiallyamong the Comanches. They state that, at the period of the conquest, anda few days prior to his death, Montecuhzoma,[1] having a presentiment ofthe fate that surely awaited him, lit a sacred fire and ordered theirancestors to keep it up, never allowing it to expire until the day whenhe returned to deliver his people from the Spanish yoke.
The guard of this sacred fire was confided to picked warriors; it wasplaced in a vault, in a copper basin, on a species of small altar, whereit constantly smoulders under a dense layer of ashes.
Montecuhzoma announced at the same time that he would return with theSun, his father; hence, at the first hour of day, many Indians mount onthe roof of their callis, in the hope of seeing their well-belovedsovereign reappear, accompanied by the day planet. These poor Indians,who constantly maintain in their hearts the hope of their futureregeneration, are convinced that this event, will be accomplished,unless the fire go out, through some reason impossible to foresee.
Scarce fifty years ago, the persons appointed to maintain the secretfire were relieved every two days, thus passing eight-and-forty hourswithout eating, drinking or sleeping. It frequently happened that thesepoor wretches, asphyxiated by the carbonic gas in the narrow space wherethey stopped, and weakened by the long fast, succumbed to theirreligious devotion. Then, according to the Indians, the bodies werethrown into the den of a monstrous serpent, which devoured them.
At the present day this strange belief is beginning to die out, althoughthe fire of Montecuhzoma may be found in nearly all the pueblos; but theold custom is not kept up so vigorously, and the serpent is obliged toobtain his food in a different fashion.
I knew at the Paso del Norte a rich hacendero of Indian origin, who,though he would not confess it, and asserted a very advanced degree ofbelief, preciously kept up the fire of Montecuhzoma, in a vault he madefor this express purpose, at a considerable expense.
The Comanches are divided into a number of small tribes, all placedunder the orders of a special chief. When this chief is old or infirm,he surrenders the military command to the one of his sons mostdistinguished by his bravery, only retaining the civil jurisdiction; onthe father's death, the son attains the complete sovereignty.
The chief summoned an old Indian who was leaning against the wall of thelodge, and bade him assemble the council. In the Comanche villages theold men incapable for active service, and whom their merits have notraised to the rank of chief, perform the office of crier. They undertaketo announce the news to the population, transmit the orders of thesachem, organise the ceremonies, and convene the council. They are allmen gifted with powerful voices; they mount on the roof of a calli, andfrom this improvised pulpit perform those duties, with an extraordinaryquantity of shouts and gestures.
When the chiefs were assembled, Pethonista humbly led his guests to thecouncil lodge, called the great medicine lodge. It was a large cabin,completely without furniture, in the midst of which an enormous fireburned. Some twenty chiefs were assembled, and gravely crouched in acircle; they maintained the most profound silence.
Ordinarily, no stranger is admitted to the council; but on this occasionthis was departed from, owing to Valentine's quality as an adopted sonof the tribe. The newcomers took their place. A chair of sculpturednopal was placed in a corner for Dona Clara, who, by a privilegeunprecedented in Indian manners, and through her double quality of whitewoman and stranger, was present at the council, which is never permitteda squaw, except in the rare instance when she holds the rank of warrior.
So soon as each was comfortably settled, the pipe bearer entered thecircle, holding the calumet, which he presented ready-lighted toPethonista. The chief pointed it to the four cardinal points, and smokedfor a few seconds; then, holding the bowl in his hand, he offered thestem to all present in turn, who imitated him. When all had smoked, thechief returned the pipe to the bearer, who emptied it into the fire,while pronouncing some mysterious words addressed to the Sun, that greatdispenser of all the good things of this world, and walked backward outof the circle.
"Our ears are open, my brother; the great pale hunter can take the word.We have removed the skin from our heart, and the words his bosombreathes will be carefully received by us. We impatiently await thecommunications which he has to make us," the chief said, bowingcourteously to Valentine.
"What I have to say will not take long," the hunter answered. "Are mybrothers still the faithful allies of the palefaces?"
"Why should we not be so?" the chief sharply interrupted him. "The greatpale hearts have been constantly good to us; they buy of our beaverskins and buffalo robes, giving us in exchange gunpowder, bullets, andscalping knives. When we are ill, our pale friends nurse us, and give usall we need. When the winter is severe--when the buffaloes are gone,and famine is felt in the villages--the whites come to our help. Why,then, shall we no longer be their allies? The Comanches are notungrateful; they have a noble and generous heart; they never forget akindness. We shall be the friend of the whites so long as the sun lightsthe universe."
"Thanks, chief," the hunter answered; "I am glad you have spoken in thatway, for the hour has come to prove your friendship to us."
"What does my brother mean?"
"The Apaches have dug up the hatchet against us: their war parties aremarching to surround our friend, Bloodson. I have come to ask mybrothers if they will help us to repulse and beat back our enemies."
There was a moment's silence, and the Indians seemed to be seriouslyreflecting on the hunter's words. At length, Pethonista said, aftergiving the members of the council a glance--
"The enemies of Bloodson and of my brother are our enemies," he said, ina loud and firm voice. "My young men will go to the help of thepalefaces. The Comanches will not suffer their allies to be insulted. Mybrother may rejoice at the success of his mission. Unicorn, I feelconvinced, would not have answered differently from me, had he beenpresent at the council. Tomorrow, at sunrise, all the warriors o
f mytribe will set out to the assistance of Bloodson. I have spoken. Have Isaid well, powerful chiefs?"
"Our father has spoken well," the chiefs replied, with a bow. "What hedesires shall be done."
"Wah!" Pethonista went on; "my sons will prepare to celebrate worthilythe arrival of our white friends in their village, and prove that we arewarriors without fear. The Old Dogs will dance in the medicine lodge."
Shouts of joy greeted these words. The Indians, who are supposed to beso little civilised, have a number of associations, bearing a stronglikeness to Freemasonry. These associations are distinguished by theirsongs, dances, and certain signs. Before becoming a member, the novicehas certain trials to undergo, and several degrees to pass through. TheComanches have eleven associations for men and three for women, thescalp dance not included.
We will allude here solely to the Band of the Old Dogs, an associationwhich only the most renowned warriors of the nation can join, and whosedance is only performed when an expedition is about to take place, inorder to implore the protection of Natosh.
The strangers mounted on the roof of the medicine lodge with a multitudeof Indians, and when all had taken their places, the ceremony commenced.Before the dancers appeared, the sound of their war whistles,--made ofhuman thigh bones, could be heard; and at length ninety "Old Dogs" cameup, attired in their handsomest dresses.
A portion were clothed in gowns or shirts of bighorn leather; others hadblouses of red cloth, and blue and scarlet uniforms the Americans hadgiven them, on their visits to the frontier forts. Some had the upperpart of the body naked, and their exploits painted in reddish brown ontheir skin; others, and those the most renowned, wore a colossal cap ofraven plumes, to the ends of which small tufts of down were fastened.This cap fell down to the loins, and in the centre of this shapelessmass of feathers were the tail of a wild turkey and that of a royaleagle.
Round their necks the principal Old Dogs wore a long strip of red cloth,descending behind to their legs, and forming a knot in the middle of theback. They had on the right side of the head a thick tuft of screech owlfeathers, the distinctive sign of the band. All had round their necksthe long _ihkochekas_, and on the left arm their fusil, bow, or club,while in their right hand they held the chichikoui.
This is a stick adorned with blue and white glass beads, completelycovered with animals' hoofs, having at the upper end an eagle's feather,and at the lower a piece of leather embroidered with beads and decoratedwith scalps.
The warriors formed a wide circle, in the centre of which was the drum,beaten by five badly dressed men. In addition to these, there were alsotwo others, who played a species of tambourine. When the dance began,the Old Dogs let their robes fall behind them, some dancing in acircle, with the body bent forward, and leaping in the air with bothfeet at once.
The other Dogs danced without any order, their faces turned to thecircle, the majority collected in a dense mass, and bending their headsand the upper part of the body simultaneously. During this period, thewar whistles, the drums, and chichikouis made a fearful row. This sceneoffered a most original and interesting sight--these brown men, theirvaried costumes, their yells, and the sounds of every descriptionproduced by the delighted spectators, who clapped their hands withgrimaces and contortions impossible to describe, in the midst of theIndian village, near a gloomy and mysterious virgin forest, a few pacesfrom the Rio Gila; in this desert where the hand of God is marked inindelible characters--all this affected the mind, and plunged it into amelancholy reverie.
The dance had lasted some time, and would have been probably prolonged,when the fierce and terrible war cry of the Apaches re-echoed throughthe air. Shots were heard, and Indian horsemen rushed like lightning onthe Comanches, brandishing their weapons, and uttering terrible yells.Black Cat, at the head of more than five hundred warriors, had attackedthe Comanches.
There was a frightful disorder and confusion. The women and children ranfrantically in every direction, pursued by their ferocious enemies, whopitilessly scalped and massacred them, while the warriors collected,mostly badly armed, in order to attempt a desperate, but almostimpossible, resistance.
The hunters, stationed, as we have said, on the top of the hut whencethey had witnessed the dance, found themselves in a most criticalposition. Fortunately for them, thanks to their old habit as woodrangers, they had not forgotten their weapons.
Valentine understood the position at the first glance. He saw that,unless a miracle occurred, they were all lost. Placing himself with hiscomrades before the terrified maiden, to make her a rampart of his body,he resolutely cocked his rifle, and said to his friends, in a firmvoice:--
"Lads, the question is not about conquering, but we must all prepare todie here!"
"We will," Don Pablo said haughtily.
And with his clubbed rifle he killed an Apache who was trying toescalade the hut.
[1] And not Montezuma, as ordinarily written. All Mexican names had, andstill have, a meaning. Montecuhzoma means the "severe Lord." It is alsosometimes written in old Mexican MSS. of the time of the conquestMoctecuhzoma, but never Montezuma, which has no meaning.