History of the Ojibway Nation/Chapter 29
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE PILLAGERS.
Notwithstanding the continual drain made in their ranks by their inveterate and exterminating war with the Dakotas, the large band of the Ojibways who lived on Leech Lake, and had become known by the name of Pillagers, continued gradually to increase in numbers, through accessions from the more eastern villages of their tribe. Their men capable of bearing arms (most of whom have actually seen service) number, at the present time,[1] about three hundred. They have ever borne the reputation of being the bravest and most warlike division of the Ojibways, from the fact of their ever having formed the vanguard of the tribe, and occupied the most dangerous ground in their westward advance and conquests. As a sample of their bravery and hardihood, we shall devote this chapter in giving an account of one of their numerous and bloody rencontres with the Dakotas, wherein they lost many of their bravest warriors.
About fifty-seven years ago, John Baptiste Cadotte (who has already been mentioned in previous chapters) arrived at Red Cedar, or Cass Lake, late in the fall, with a supply of goods, ammunition, and other necessaries, intending to pass the winter in trading with the Pillagers and northern Ojibways. The Pillagers, at their village on Leech Lake, were preparing to go on a grand war party against the Dakotas, but being destitute of ammunition, the men repaired in a body to Cass Lake, to procure a supply from the trader who had so opportunely arrived. It being contrary to his interests as a trader, that the Indians should go to war at this season of the year, Mons. Cadotte endeavored to dissuade them from their purpose. He invited them to council, and after stating to them his wishes, he presented some tobacco, and a small keg of liquor to each head, or representative chief, of the several grand clans, or totems, and promised them, that if they would give up their present warlike intentions, and hunt well during the winter, in the spring he would give them all the ammunition he might have on hand, to use against their enemies.
These rare presents, and promise, in connection with Cadotte's great influence among them as their relative, induced the Pillagers to promise to give up their general war party. With their present of fire-water, they returned to their village at Leech Lake, to hold a grand frolic, which, in those early days, were seldom and far between. When their revel had been ended, and all had once more become sober, one morning at sunrise Uk-ke-waus, an elderly man who had that fall returned to his people after a long residence among the Crees of Red River, walked slowly through the village from lodge to lodge, proclaiming in a loud voice that he was determined on going to war, and calling on all those who considered themselves men to join him, and pay no attention to the words of the trader.
The next day this obstinate old warrior, with his four sons, left the village, and proceeded on the war-path against the Dakotas. He was followed by forty-five warriors, many of whom, it is said, went with great reluctance. To sustain this assertion, an anecdote is told of one, who, that morning, had determined to raise camp, to proceed on his fall hunt for beaver. He requested his wife to pull down their lodge, and gum the canoe, preparatory to leaving, but the wife appeared not to notice his words. He spoke to her a second time, and she still remaining unmindful, the husband got up, and taking down his gun he left the lodge, remarking, "Well, then, if you refuse to do as I wish you, I will join the warriors." He never returned to his disobedient wife, and his bones are bleaching on the sandy shores of Battle Lake.
After four days' travel to the westward, the war party arrived in the vicinity of Leaf Lake, within the country of their enemy, and discovered fresh signs of their hunters. In the evening they heard the report of Dakota guns booming in the distance. Early in the morning of the fifth day, they came across a beaten path, following which led them towards a large lake, which, from the ensuing fight, has borne the name of Lac du Battaile, or Battle Lake. As they neared this lake, they again heard the report of the enemy's guns, gradually receding in the distance, as if they were moving away from them. Uk-ke-waus, the leader of the party, insisted that the Dakotas must have discovered them, and were running away, and he importuned the party to quicken their steps in pursuit. The leading, and more experienced warriors, however, halted, and filling their pipes, gravely consulted amongst themselves the best course to be pursued. From the repeated firing of guns, in almost every direction, it was argued that the enemy must be occupying the country in great force, and probably some of their hunters, having discovered their trail, were preparing to cut off their retreat. A return home was seriously talked of under these circumstances, but Uk-ke-waus, being a passionate and withal a determined man, violently opposed this measure, and upbraided his fellows for their faint-heartedness in unmeasured terms. On this, the determination of their warriors was instantly formed, for none could brook the reproval of cowardice.
The party continued their onward course, and followed up the enemy's trail with quickened steps. Arriving on the lake shore, they beheld the late deserted encampment of their enemies, who had just moved off, and whose lodge fires were still brightly burning. As the Pillagers made their appearance on a rise of ground overlooking the deserted camp, three young men of the Dakotas suddenly jumped up from around a fire, where they had been sitting, and casting their eyes on the group of warriors who were fast approaching, and recognizing them for Ojibways, they fled towards the lake shore. Urged on by the old warrior, the Pillagers increased their speed to a full run. On arriving at the lake shore, they perceived in the distance the moving camp of their enemies, winding along the sandy beach, which stretched for two miles to their right. Some were on horseback, others on foot, and all packing along their leathern lodges, traps, and various camping equipage. It was not long before the moving Dakotas perceiving warrior after warrior collecting in their rear, apparently in full pursuit of them, and seeing the three young men who had been left as a rear guard, running and occasionally throwing up their blankets in warning, became panic-stricken, and dropping their loads, a general flight commenced.
Urged on by the apparent confusion and fear caused by their presence, amongst the ranks of their enemies, the Pillagers rushed on as if to a feast, and "first come was to be best served." About half their number, thinking to head the fleeing enemy, left the sandy beach of the lake, and ran around a swamp which lay between the narrow beach and the main land. This intended short cut, however, only led them astray, as they could not get around the swamp without going a great distance out of the way which the enemy were pursuing. In the mean time the Dakotas disappeared one after another in a deep wood which stood at the extreme end of the sand beach. Three Pillager braves, who, being excellent runners, kept some distance ahead of their fellows, fearlessly followed after them. They ran through the woods and emerged upon an open prairie, where they were struck with surprise, at suddenly perceiving long rows of Dakota lodges. The fleeing camp had joined another, and together they numbered three hundred lodges. Guns were firing to call in the straggling hunters, drums were beating to collect the warriors, many of whom, already prepared for battle, their heads decked with plumes and their bodies painted in red and black, made a terrific appearance as they ran to and fro, marshalling the younger warriors and hurrying their preparations.
One look was sufficient for the three panting Pillagers, and amid a shower of bullets which laid one of them in death, the survivors turned and ran back, and as they met their fellows, they urged on them the necessity of immediate flight, for it was impossible to resist the numbers which their enemies were about to turn against them. Heated, tired, and panting for breath, the Pillagers could not think of flight. Their utmost exertions had been spent in a foolish and fruitless chase, and they could now do no more than die like men. Deliberately they chose their ground, at a place where a small rivulet connected the lake, through the narrow neck of sand beach, with a wide swamp. Here they could not be surrounded, and when half of their number had collected, they hid in the tall grass which grew on either side of the little creek, and here, entirely commanding the narrow pass, they awaited in ambush the coming of the Dakota warriors, who soon appeared from the woods, and marshalled in long lines on the lake shore, dressed and painted for battle. Their advance was imposing. They were led on by a prominent figure who wore a blue military coat, and who carried conspicuous on his breast a large silver medal, denoting his rank as chief. In one hand he brandished only a long spear, while in the other he carried aloft the war ensign of plumes, and as he came on, running from side to side, in front of his warriors, to keep them in line and check, he exhorted them to act like men with a loud voice.
Breathlessly the tired Pillagers crouched in the grass, awaiting the onset. The imposing array of their enemies had already reached within range of their bullets, but still they kept quiet, unseen in their ambush. The remainder of their fellows who had attempted to run around the swamp, finding out their mistake, had returned, and were now running up the sandy beach to the support of their fellows. On these the Dakotas turned their attention, and, unsuspecting, they marched right on their hidden enemies. The first gun fired by the Pillagers brought down the noble form of their leader. A yell of rage issued from the ranks of the Dakotas, and instead of dodging here and there, hiding behind trees, or throwing themselves in the tall grass, as they generally do in battle, they rushed forward in a body, determined to annihilate at one blow their feeble and tired enemy. Their front ranks, however, fell before the united volleys of the Pillagers, and the battle now commenced in earnest.
Retiring behind the shelter of trees, the Pillagers for a time kept up the hopeless contest, being every moment joined by their fellows who had been left behind. Last of the stragglers, when over one half of his comrades had been shot down, came Uk-ke-waus, the old warrior who had urged them on to the foolish chase. He had four sons engaged in the fight, the youngest of whom had been killed before the Dakota lodges. As he came up and took his stand beside his surviving warriors, the death of his favorite son was proclaimed to him, and bitter reproaches were addressed to him, for causing the untimely death of so many brave men. Determined to save some of his fellows, if possible, the old warrior called out in a voice distinctly heard above the din of battle, "Let those who wish to live, escape by retreating, while singly I shall stand in the path of our enemies!" The surviving Pillagers, all but his three brave sons, took him at his word, and leaving them to withstand the pursuit of the Dakotas, they turned and fled. For a long time the yells of those devoted warriors could be heard, as, at each crack of their guns, an enemy bit the dust. Volley after volley were fired on them in vain. They appeared to have a charmed life, but their strength and ammunition failing, the few remaining friends to whom by their self-sacrifice they had given life, heard from a great distance the exultant yells of the Dakotas as they silenced them forever, and tore the reeking scalps from their heads.
Not one-third of that Pillager war party ever returned to their people. Their bones are bleaching, and returning to dust, on the spot where they so bravely fought and fell. We-non-ga (the Vulture), one of the leaders of this ill-fated war party, though sorely wounded, returned home in safety. He was still living a few years since, honored and respected by all his people. It was his boast as he struck the war-pole, to relate his exploits, that on this bloody occasion, he shot down, one after another, seven Dakotas. The slaughter in their ranks must have been very considerable.
The beautiful sheet of water where the above related event took place, has since then been named by the Ojibways, Ish-quon-e-de-win-ing (where but few survived). The French, from the same circumstance, named it Lac du Battaile, interpreted in "Nicollet's map of the Mississippi Valley," into Battle Lake.
Esh-ke-bug-e-coshe, the venerable chief[2] of the Pillagers, from whose lips I have obtained the above account, was a young man when the fight at Battle Lake took place. He was returning to Leech Lake, after a long residence among his Cree relations in the north, and was stopping to hunt with some friends at Red Lake, when, about midwinter, the news of the above battle reached them. There being many relatives of the old man Uk-ke-waus and his sons residing at Red Lake, at the news of their death, a war party was immediately raised, consisting of one hundred and thirty warriors, who marched on snow shoes towards the hunting grounds of the Dakotas. The young Pillager chief joined this party, and proceeded with them to the southern base of O-ge-mah-mi-jew, or Chief's Mountain, where they made a night attack on a large camp of the enemy, consisting of over fifty lodges. Several volleys were fired into the defenceless lodges, and many of the inmates killed and wounded, when, the warriors of the Dakotas briskly firing back, the Ojibways retreated.
The young chief, with two others, remained for some hours in the vicinity of the camp, after their fellows had gone, and he vividly describes the plaintive wailing of those who had lost relatives in the late attack. There was deep mourning in the camp of the Dakotas that bloody night! Stealthily approaching the lodges in the darkness, the young chief, with his two companions, once more discharged their guns at their weeping enemies, then turning homewards, they ran all night to rejoin their fellows.
Esh-ke-bug-e-coshe relates as a curious fact, that this war party left Red Lake on snow shoes, the ground being covered with deep snow. They marched directly westward, and having reached the great western plains, they found bare ground, left their snow shoes, and walked whole days through immense herds of buffalo.